Friday  May11th


Cold winds, driving rain, dipping temperatures and Britain’s Forgot Talent dominating television schedules have induced some sort of hibernation in me over the last week. The weather has been so bad I thought maybe I had overslept and we were in fact in the midst of the Festival as this is weather more typical of that time of year when bad weather arrives at the same time as the highest contingent of visitors. As for Britain’s got Mental Health Issues I have managed to avoid wasting one second of what is left of my life on that garbage which is a throwback to the awful talent shows of the seventies. These shows only served to necessitate the need for punk to shake the establishment to its naff foundations and wake up the coming generations alerting them to the fact this sort of abomination should never happen again.

Obviously this passed Simon Cowell by completely and there he sits at the end of the row of Britain’s Got Botoxed Judges like the ghost of some surgically enhanced Hughie Green. I am half expecting to hear any day now he is the secret half brother of Paula Yates and has her on speed Ouija board seeking advice. I am unsure how Amanda Holden secured a place on the judges panel as an arbiter of talent as her own career trajectory involves little more than appearing as a contestant on Blind Date, shagging-and subsequently marrying- Les Dennis and then cuckolding him with Neil Morrissey. Classy!

Offering to be much more entertaining is today’s Leveson enquiry with former News International CEO, personal friend of David Cameron and all round bitch Rebekah Brooks. Watching these supercilious people-Andy Coulson faced the music yesterday- who reigned supreme in the media stripped of their dignity and exposed as self serving and corrupt may be pleasurable but only raises questions as to who has taken their place and whether anything has fundamentally changed? Their replacements will have just been alerted how to be more careful and will have sought out new- probably just as intrusive- methods of obtaining information. Seeing Brooks exposed will be interesting as she will either have to sacrifice herself or expose both Cameron and Murdoch in an attempt to deflect from her own involvement. No doubt some strategy will have been arrived at which will strive to absolve all parties and this in itself will be interesting, even if not credible.

Had an awful experience this week going into the Hollister store in George Street where I wandered into a dark space, clouded with ‘exotic’ aromas, marauding ferns masquerading as Palm trees, deafening music, piles of branded clothes and vacant but gorgeous flip-flop clad staff who would need an X-ray to find their own pubes. I had to restrain myself from asking the staff to turn the lights up and the music down as the whole experience was nauseating and totally anathema to the concept of shopping. For a brand which pitches itself as California inspired I am at a loss as to why the sunshine state is depicted with such extreme darkness. Perhaps the lighting is a well thought out idea in disguising just how average and uninspiring the clothes on sale actually are. It also prevents you from seeing how much you are being charged as after eventually finding something to wear-whether it suits you or not is irrelevant and impossible to work out in the dimly lit ambience- finding the price tag is nigh on impossible until one of the helium voiced cuties has stripped you of half your monthly income in the name of looking branded.

Not that there are many places to go in Edinburgh which are worth dressing up for anyway. The re-launch of Cabaret Voltaire gets underway this weekend and although I am perhaps being a little cynical first impressions are underwhelming to say the least. No name change was the first disappointment as everyone in Edinburgh knows this is not the Cabaret Voltaire which held a place dear in many of the city’s denizen’s hearts. The second disappointment came when someone handed me a flyer and the lineup could have come from any time in the last twenty –at least- years. Part of the problem of clubbing in Edinburgh over the last few years has arisen from these older DJ’S-some well into their fifties- persistence in their refusal to move over and give the younger generation a break. I am not saying that an older DJ or punter has no relevance but I –and many around me agree- it is all becoming a little tiresome. Saying that, I will probably be seen in the next few weeks flinging my carcass around the dance floor good style raving about what a great time I am having.

Everything on the club circuit is also genre specific and this is something else which is stifling the city’s club scene as it prevents different groups of people mixing and acquiring a broader palette of influences. Perhaps if the youth were able find their way out of the Hollister store they could get off their arses and do something to shift these dinosaurs away from the decks. Personally I am unclear as to why such a hoo-hah was made about the Cab closing then it opens a month later with the same old DJ’S. Perhaps it is just a ruse to steal the ‘Worst Makeover of All Time’ title from the City Café which also underwent major changes to remain pretty much the same.

Actually the Café is cleaner than it has been in years whilst the staff are friendly and reassuringly self obsessed, as after waiting twenty minutes to get served –on a quiet day- recently I was then informed the reason for my wait was because of what a tough day the bar tender had just had as I paid nearly four pounds for a drink. So some things obviously can’t be changed by a sixty minute makeover apparently.

With Britain’s Got Delusions commandeering the schedules this week my attention turned once again to Laid In Chelsea where Spencer has clearly usurped Simon Cowell as the most odious man on TV.  He also seems to have borrowed his totally shit haircut which frames the sort of visage which is just so easy to hate. His eyes seem to be permanently engaged in a race to escape his face- easy to understand why-and he huffs and puffs like Toad of Toad hall after a month locked in a biscuit factory. Setting out to steal your best friend’s girlfriend is a sleazy thing to do in the first place but to do it so openly and in front of cameras belies a sense of vileness, arrogance and rampant egomania which is hard to fathom. The man is just repulsive and the scene where he danced his posh fatboy dance on a yacht as a means of seduction was tempting only in making you want to push him overboard.

The female quotient of vile creatures is well represented by scary, stary eyed uber bitch Rosie and her sidekick Victoria who discuss everything and everyone with tongues dipped in vinegar. The only subject they have never approached seems to be leather handbags and this is perhaps because if they did they would have to address the issue that Victoria’s face resembles one which has been left out in the sun too long. Surely she is the oldest looking twenty something ever –yes even Geri Halliwell glowed with youthful vibrance in comparison. Meanwhile Cheska floats around sticking her nose into everyone else’s relationships whilst resembling the clear winner in a Princess Diana in Drag contest. The whole thing is cringe worthy but frighteningly watchable and highly addictive.

The rain seems to be holding off so far today so it is perhaps to make a bid for the outdoors although by the time I reach the end of the street I will be drenched. Here is to the rest of May heating up and moving towards something resembling at least Spring if Summer is too much to hold out for.

  1. Have a nice day!

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