SIR CLIFF... MACHO OAP

The Peter Pan of pop, Cliff Richard reaches the ripe old age of 70 this year. To commenarate he has just released his calendar showing that despite reaching his eighth decade, he still has a body that retains his youthful image. 
Sir Cliff says that the secret of his eternal youth and owning a great body is playing tennis 3 times a week, having 2 glasses of red wine a day and a daily dose of lecithin - that's a supplement derived from soya beans, meat and eggs which apparently prevents the body from forming fat. 


Now I'm no great Cliff fan. His music and performances leave me colder than an Eskimo's testicles during a skinny dip, but even I have to salute Cliff on his longevity and for keeping himself so fit and healthy Ok, I daresay he adds a little L'Oreal to his roots every few weeks. Probably because he thinks he's worth it. I daresay he also has a little nip and tuck he and there and the odd botox has been tried along the way.  


But I think I have the real secret to his great body, good looks and youthful image... Stacks of money and no children. 

YORKIE WEEKEND

Phew.. just got back from a weekend of museums,  history and shopping in York. It's a few years since I last went to York and it never fails to live up to expectations. The B&B was a last minute booking and although oxygen was needed to climb the stairs to the bedroom, it was lovely. First stop was hitting one of York's sightseeing buses. I love the city open top sightseeing buses, not for the fact that you get your blown about and your face sticks in that Amanda Holden botox look, but because they give you a whistle stop tour of the city's prime locations and historical nuances. I also love being able to jump off and on and leisure. Not literally of course.. more's the pity. First stop was the Castle Museum. I remembered the Victorian Street from a school trip about 140 years ago and it's still there in all its glory. Fab-u-lous. Also great was the old York gaol and the cell holding highwayman Dick Turpin before he was executed. Then it was a quick look round York Dungeon which was very macabre but perversely very interesting. After an hour or two of looking at exhibits of torture and maiming, it was time to grab something to eat in a small eatery which supplied great food and a very cool live jazz band. Nighttime activities were finished off by going on the very wonderful Ghost tour. You are taken on a twilight tour round York's streets by an actor luvvie who tells very creepy stories whilst other actors jump out on you at opportune moments. Cue screaming and much laughing, it's really great fun. 

Today the Railway Museum was given the once over simply because it was free which made a pleasant change as you get used to dipping your hand in your pocket on numerous occasions in York. The railway museum was good, but made even better by people watching. Sit back and watch old men, young men and young boys mesmerized by steam trains. Occasionally, an older man would wax lyrically to his eyes-glazed-over wife about 'big ends' or the 'Scotsman V1-453 engine shaft'. And you watch in wonder at how a man lovingly caresses a steam engine's axle and then imagine when he last did that to his wife's thigh. 1974 probably. The same date British Rail first started selling shite sandwiches. After seeing many, many steam engines and after sitting in the carriage of a Japanese Bullet train, it was back to the all together more pleasurable and girlie pursuit of shopping in the Shambles. York has some great shops and many are independent, classy outlets which tempt you inside at alarming regularity. After a few miles walking on York's castle walls and taking photos of the Minster from every angle, it was regrettably time to leave York as a month's salary had already gone on one of York's car parks. 

Heading home and a quick stop at Saltaire in Bradford. It's a place I'd read about and always fancied a look at. Salt's Mill dates back 150 years or so, back to the days when Titus Salt owned a woollens mill employing over 4000 of Bradford's weavers and spinners. Old Titus was a bit of a philanthropist and rather like the Cadbury's dynasty in Birmingham, he built Saltaire around his factory containing decent housing, school, infirmaries and playing fields for his staff. Being part of the 'do as I say, and not as I do' school of philanthropy, old Titus feels the need to own his employees completely by ensuring total abstinence from alcohol for all his staff. Of course, old Titus had a few drams of whisky on the side, but heaven forbid his employees should have a glass or two of beer after working a 60 hour week in the mill... 

Anyway, interesting place all the same. It now contains a David Hockney art exhibition and many floors of art, books and a very good restaurant to boot. There was also a contemporary home section with funky furniture and funky prices to match. You could seriously spend some dosh in here, the goods are THAT good. It was with much regret that I left Saltaire. I like the place very much. And I suppose despite his stance of alcohol, old Titus Salt did improve his workers lives considerably. It was also with a heavy heart as you drive away that you remember despite all the social problems of our Northern industrial heritage, there still remains these reminders (albeit these days in different forms) of how great we once were as nation. The railway museum at York containing supreme examples of our engineering prowess, and Salt's Mill which employed 4000 and made Worsted wool which was exported across the world. Legacies indeed of a once great manufacturing nation. Sadly, as you drive through Bradford, there are constant reminders of past greatness replaced by call centres and boarded up and tatty buildings. Still, that's history folks, as sad as it is. Back to the present and back to remembering how great it is to escape for a weekend away. Can't wait 'til next month...

   

I GOT A C IN MATHS YIPPEEEEE...

GMTV and BBC Breakfast are covering the GCSE results this morning. As with the coverage they give A level results, it's painful viewing. Painful in that like death and taxes, it's so predictable. Remember the days they were called 'O' Levels and CSE's? Remember the days you walked or cycled down to school for your results and were underwhelmed by their crapness? Straight down to the local cafe with 28 of your mates and 3 cups of coffee to chat about Top of Pops, boys and what we were doing that weekend. Not very high of the agenda was exam results, university or career choices. And where were our parents? At home shrugging their shoulders saying 'oh well'. How different it is today. 
Here's what happens today when our little prince and princesses go for their results (NB. GMTV and BBC will also report the same scene next year, and the year after...)


1. Reporter sets the scene from 7am at the school. Only the caretaker grumbling in the background is present. 


2. 07:20. After 14 separate items about GCSE results, the reporter is now joined by lots of spotty teenagers holding their envelopes without actually opening them. Reporter asks a few of them usual questions on the lines of 'are you excited?' 'are you nervous?'


3. 07.30. Reporter gives permission for envelopes to be opened by selected few and cameraman hones in on one of the group. The anticipation is high whilst Chloe or Jack scans their results then screams out 'I got 17 A's, 3 A stars and a B in woodwork'. 


4. 07.32. Reporter congratulates Chloe or Jack and says 'well done' a few times. Meanwhile in the background, other 16 years olds are opening their envelopes. 


5. 07.33. Cue screams, jumping up and down, hugging, crying, texting on mobiles, more crying. And that's just the boys. This lasts for approximately 20 mins. 'Oh my God, I can now do media studies at 6th form...wicked'.


6. 07.35 - 09.15. Reports of the GCSE results continue every 10 minutes with the same repetition of screams, hugging, crying. 


7. Crying and excitable teenagers get collected from school by stretch limo.  

TAKE MY MOTHER-IN-LAW... PLEASE

It's that time of year again which heralds the staging of the Edinburgh fringe festival. Comic Tim Vine has just been crowned as king of the one liners after one of his gags was named the best joke at the fringe. Tim, pleased with his award said 'I'm going to celebrate by going to Sooty's barbeque and having a sweepsteak'. Corny, but great. I like Tim Vine very much. He's a clever comic who delivers one-liners quickly and with much humour. His jokes are never smutty or crude but are just really funny. His jokes are similar to those written for Tommy Cooper, Eric Morecambe or Les Dawson, but he has no gimmicks or 'image'. He looks like any bloke you might see in the pub and he's just very likeable. He's also the brother of Radio 2 and Panorama presenter Jeremy Vine, so he'll do ok in my book. If you ever get chance to see him live, go and you'll have a great night and laugh a lot. 

Anyway, here's what the critics deemed the best lines from the fringe, and the worst. Enjoy...

The best...

Tim Vine: I've just been on a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. I'll tell you what, never again.

David Gibson (as Ray Green): I'm currently dating a couple of anorexics. Two birds, one stone.

Emo Philips: I picked up a hitchhiker. You gotta when you hit them.

Jack Whitehall: I bought one of those anti-bullying wristbands when they first came out. I say 'bought' - I actually stole it off a short, fat ginger kid.

Gary Delaney: As a kid I was made to walk the plank. We couldn't afford a dog.

John Bishop: Being an England supporter is like being the over-optimistic parents of the fat kid on sports day.

Bo Burnham: What do you call a kid with no arms and an eyepatch? Names.

Gary Delaney: Dave drowned. So at the funeral we got him a wreath in the shape of a lifebelt. Well, it's what he would have wanted.

Robert White: For Vanessa Feltz, life is like a box of chocolates - empty.

Gareth Richards: Wooden spoons are great. You can either use them to prepare food, or if you can't be bothered with that, just write a number on one and walk into a pub.

....and the worst 

Sara Pascoe: Why did the chicken commit suicide? To get to the other side.

Sean Hughes: You know city-centre beat officers... Well are they police who rap?

Gyles Brandreth: I've got nothing against lesbians. I mean, that's the point isn't it?

Doc Brown: I was born into the music industry. My dad worked in Our Price.

John Luke Roberts: I made a Battenberg where the two colours ran alongside each other. I called it apartheid sponge.

Sarah Millican: I bought a cross-trainer to keep fit. I suppose that it's not enough to just buy it.

Bec Hill: Some of my best friends are vegan. They were going to come today but they didn't have the energy to climb up the stairs.

Dan Antopolski: How many Spaniards does it take to change a lightbulb? Juan.

Andi Osho: Floella Benjamin is in the House of Lords. How did she get in, through the round window?

Gareth Richards: My mother is always taking photographs of me - she said if you disappear tomorrow I want you to look good on the news.

Emo Phillips: I like to play chess with bald men in the park although it's hard to find 32 of them.

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE...

Peter Andre was in Blackpool today unveiling his new waxwork at Louis Tussaud's museum. Rumour has it that Katie Price is considering marriage to the waxwork effigy as it scored 14 points higher on the MENSA IQ test than her current squeeze Alex Reid. 
I can't put my finger on it, but there's something very endearing about Peter Andre. He has not a great deal of discernible talent and was all but forgotten after his dreary one hit wonder 'Mysterious Girl'. And then how fickle fame and celebrity is in this country when he goes in the jungle, hooks up with the lascivious Jordan, and the rest they say, is history. I think his endearing qualities lie in his humbleness and amazement that he is one lucky bastard to lead an incredible lifestyle from doing nothing more than looking longingly into Katie's eyes and producing two children under the relentless coverage of ITV2. Anyway, he seems a nice enough bloke and good luck to him for making a few bob and having a nice life. I'd rather he had it than some of our illustrious premier league loutish footballers. 


Which brings me on nicely to Louis Tussaud's in Blackpool. As a kid, visiting the Tussaud's used to thrill me and scare the beejeepers out of me in equal measures. The Royal Family waxwork section didn't seem to change in years. They all gazed out with their dead eyes and resplendent in their British Home Stores clothing and Claires Accessories tiaras. Plenty of waxworks were also on display from the worlds of showbiz and sport. But the best sections and the ones causing the most anticipation were the Chamber of Horrors in the basement and the Medical / Disease Section on the top floor. Both had massive warnings about the the awfulness of the displays and how they may affect people of a sensitive nature. You had to be accompanied by an adult in both sections, but to be honest, we just used to sneak through and whoever worked there turned a blind eye anyway. The medical section contained exhibits of diseased bodies, Siamese twins and one memorable waxwork of a foetus that was found to be growing in a man's body. Typical me with my nose up to the glass ooohing and aaaghing at the sight of the effects of syphilis on the face of an adult. Blimey, I was so macabre.. it's no wonder I became a nurse! 
And then came the Chamber of Horrors. I remember it starting off with the usual suspects.. Frankensteins monster, Boris Karloff's vampire. And then it got worse. You were taken through a dark corridor containing famous murderers  from the past and scenes from cutting up bodies in the bath. The one scene that gave me absolute nightmares was the motorway car crash. It was an old scrapped mini with the windscreen smashed through and the driver and occupants sprawled out over the bonnet. I also remember lots of fake blood and sirens playing loudly on loudspeakers. It was utterly gruesome and it must have made a big impression on me because I can still vividly recall it many years later. I'll probably return to Louis Tussaud's this summer and see it evokes the same memories from my childhood. I'll probably not sleep for weeks....

THE WORST ALBUM COVERS EVER...

Ok, I've written plenty of blogs about my take on good music and gone all dewy eyed with nostalgia over the greatest albums in my collection. How do you fancy seeing some truly awful album covers? You do? Oh good. Feast your eyes on these little beauties and if you have any of them in your collection, I'd be surprised if you owned up to it....

Great title for an album I think you would agree. Call it a hunch, but I wouldn't trust this quartet with a bunch of choirboys.  

Yeah, baby! I think Gary perhaps needs a little more self-confidence and maybe some help with his body language in order to appeal to the pretty laaadies.  

I'm sure the Castle Family were appearing live on Fleetwood Pier the night it got burned down. Unfortunately, all survived but sustained 1st degree burns to the legs when their lycra trousers caught alight. The arsonist was caught later and was heard to say 'I don't regret a thing, that bunch of permed hair, trombone-playing bastards had it coming'. 

Dave Boyer's music wasn't so bad, but as a bloke... my God, he was two-faced. 

It's just wrong on every level isn't it? Amen

Do gay dogs exist? If they do, Paddy Roberts has obviously spotted a niche market for the type of music they might like. I'm guessing there's some George Michael and Pet Shop Boys tracks on there. 

I don't know about Jesus using you..Released prisoners on parole having been locked up for years and with 15 pints of Stella inside them would wince at the prospect... And forget hairdressers... car sprayers have set those barnets. 

You have to wonder how many requests the red-headed, ginger eyelashed, handlebar-moustached, safari suit wearing Ken actually got? 

More like Priscilla Presley and a shrink-wrapped Elvis. Or maybe it was Tattoo before starring in Fantasy Island. I always thought his acting was a bit wooden...

I've Got Confidence? Somehow I doubt it. What you do have is greasy hair pinned back with horrendous hair slides and no tits to speak of. I call that bad judgement and bad genes. 

BLACKPOOL ROCK...

If Blackpool FC had taken notice of any of the pre-match talk and media speculation, they wouldn't have bothered to get on the coach bound for Wigan. Instead, they turned up, kicked the arses of Wigan and in true smash and grab daylight robbery tradition, walked away wit ha 4-0 win. Sensational start by Ollie's lads and a big warning goes out not to underestimate the mighty 'Pool. Of course, it's a long season and it's a uphill battle to keep up with the big hitters of the Prem, but who knows? A couple of certainties are that Blackpool have a fighting spirit matching with some of the best and most vocal fans in the Prem. And secondly, Ollie is always good value for money in the post-match interview. He was unusually subdued on MoTD yesterday, but expect more from him as the season progresses.  
As for Wigan. It doesn't bode well for their season or for the manager Roberto Martinez. As good as Blackpool were yesterday, Wigan were woeful. But for now... The future's bright....the future's tangerine.