Friday, 7 December 2012
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
RIP Stephen Gately (?)
Jan Moirs article in the Daily Mail on 17 Oct has created more righteous indignation amongst the literate intelligentsia than has been seen for quite some time. Twitter and Facebook resounded with red-faced declamations of this arrogant harridan. One of my friends posted a comment on the R4 coverage about the complaints piling up on Ofcom's pending tray; 'This isn't orchestrated - we're just tuning up!'. When I replied observing the tendency towards illiberality of those calling themselves liberal (small L, natch) she came back with 'OMG - have you read it though? It's the DM though, so hardly a shock'.
As it happened I hadn't read it so couldn't comment further. Since the torrent of phlegm surrounding the piece has refused to die down I eventually and grudgingly Googled it up.
I was struck by how mild the piece actually is. All it really does is ask a couple of awkward questions regarding the circumstances of the poor sods demise and the response thereafter. Admittedly there is a tinge of discomfort with the whole gay marriage/lifestyle thing, but a lot of us outside this particular 'ouvre' feel much the same. Sorry gays everywhere but it's true, deal with it.
So, to reprise. How and why did he die? Apparently healthy 33yo men do NOT just keel over and crock. The news reports at the time immediately said natural causes, both prematurely and inaccurately. Unfortunately the event happened in Spain, with a police force which would welcome Closeau as a sage and knowledgeable advisor. However it seems he died of fluid in the lungs, according to a court spokeswoman NOT alcohol or vomit. Basically he drowned then. Natural enough, young men drown on the sofa all the time. It seems there was a young Bulgarian (one Georgi Dochev) there too, seemingly as a playmate for Andrew Cowles, Gate's partner. Now the thought that occurred to me, and more than likely to Ms. Moir too is exactly what fluid could be introduced to a gay mans lungs in a quantity sufficient to kill? No, I didn't want to think about it either. There's always the swimming pool option though, now where have we heard that before?
Jan Moir also goes on to criticize the lifestyle of many gay celebs. I assume this is the part which has drawn the bile from Guardian readers everywhere. But from my point of view, and I think many who have no voice in the media, there is a germ of truth in that criticism. And truth as is well known, hurts.
As it happened I hadn't read it so couldn't comment further. Since the torrent of phlegm surrounding the piece has refused to die down I eventually and grudgingly Googled it up.
I was struck by how mild the piece actually is. All it really does is ask a couple of awkward questions regarding the circumstances of the poor sods demise and the response thereafter. Admittedly there is a tinge of discomfort with the whole gay marriage/lifestyle thing, but a lot of us outside this particular 'ouvre' feel much the same. Sorry gays everywhere but it's true, deal with it.
So, to reprise. How and why did he die? Apparently healthy 33yo men do NOT just keel over and crock. The news reports at the time immediately said natural causes, both prematurely and inaccurately. Unfortunately the event happened in Spain, with a police force which would welcome Closeau as a sage and knowledgeable advisor. However it seems he died of fluid in the lungs, according to a court spokeswoman NOT alcohol or vomit. Basically he drowned then. Natural enough, young men drown on the sofa all the time. It seems there was a young Bulgarian (one Georgi Dochev) there too, seemingly as a playmate for Andrew Cowles, Gate's partner. Now the thought that occurred to me, and more than likely to Ms. Moir too is exactly what fluid could be introduced to a gay mans lungs in a quantity sufficient to kill? No, I didn't want to think about it either. There's always the swimming pool option though, now where have we heard that before?
Jan Moir also goes on to criticize the lifestyle of many gay celebs. I assume this is the part which has drawn the bile from Guardian readers everywhere. But from my point of view, and I think many who have no voice in the media, there is a germ of truth in that criticism. And truth as is well known, hurts.
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
What price power?
Once again sodding MP's expenses are proving fodder for phone-in and paxman alike. The massed ranks of the indignant General Public are once more spitting with fury at the 'massive' misuse of public cash by our elcted representatives. Columnists are beside themselves with glee at getting paid for hitting such a supremely easy target. Those actually affected are beside themselves with fury not only at having a retro-active rule thrust upon them, but at being bound and gagged from complaining about it by their party leaders, who have been dangled by the balls in Harmans 'court of public opinion'. Whoopie-bloody-do.
I'd like the dear reader now to consider their stereotypical granny. Not your real granny, but she of the crochet and rocking chair, the wonderful cooking using ingredients long outlawed by those who think that full-fat milk is only slightly less fatal than cyanide. Said granny has two grandchildren. One of these is an MP, the other a binman. Now, when Granny talks to her friends, neighbours and milkman (she will have a milkman) who does she talk to them about, bore them stiff with?
Having progeny who is an MP is a source of pride for any parent. MP's are important people. They are one of only 600-odd people who represent the entire country; you, me, that strange lady down the road with all the cats. They decide the rules by which our society lives, therefore they are US.
Now ok, they don't actually act as anything more than ciphers for their party leaders and they take longer holidays than teachers. Nonetheless, they are expected to uproot themselves and family from their cozy nest and find themselves some halfway decent accomodation in the most expensive city in the world. Having done that, they are now expected to furnish and maintain these digs at Ryanair rates whilst still being available to walk into the right room at Westminster in the middle of the night at their leaders behest. They have some right to feel aggrieved I think.
Who would want to be an MP now? Derided, disillusioned and comparatively low paid, they struggle along. There are no great political divides now, the Personality is now the Party. We vote for our President, never mind the protestations of great local works and committment. Given the choice of something cushy in the local council on twice the money or running the gimlet gaze of every newshound in the ex Fleet Street, what would you do? So the quality of the tiny number of people who make this place what it is is bound to diminish. Great result guys, nice one.
There is a wider issue as well. Retrospective rules have historically been avoided like the plague, although they have found a foothold in transport law already. Penalising someone for not following a rule which wasn't written at the time is tantamount to Newspeak, yet another Orwellian concept which The Other Blair preciently envisioned in a book written in what he would be amazed to discover are considered as Englands happiest days. It's a foot in the doorway to enacting all sorts of crap which could rebound on us all. Will we get tickets for parking somewhere last christmas which has only just received its shiny yellow lines? The pssibilites are endless.
So, amazingly for me, I actually feel some sympathy for these people. I beleive they actually deserve to be treated with some respect and just a little status. Happier MP's make better laws, really.
I'd like the dear reader now to consider their stereotypical granny. Not your real granny, but she of the crochet and rocking chair, the wonderful cooking using ingredients long outlawed by those who think that full-fat milk is only slightly less fatal than cyanide. Said granny has two grandchildren. One of these is an MP, the other a binman. Now, when Granny talks to her friends, neighbours and milkman (she will have a milkman) who does she talk to them about, bore them stiff with?
Having progeny who is an MP is a source of pride for any parent. MP's are important people. They are one of only 600-odd people who represent the entire country; you, me, that strange lady down the road with all the cats. They decide the rules by which our society lives, therefore they are US.
Now ok, they don't actually act as anything more than ciphers for their party leaders and they take longer holidays than teachers. Nonetheless, they are expected to uproot themselves and family from their cozy nest and find themselves some halfway decent accomodation in the most expensive city in the world. Having done that, they are now expected to furnish and maintain these digs at Ryanair rates whilst still being available to walk into the right room at Westminster in the middle of the night at their leaders behest. They have some right to feel aggrieved I think.
Who would want to be an MP now? Derided, disillusioned and comparatively low paid, they struggle along. There are no great political divides now, the Personality is now the Party. We vote for our President, never mind the protestations of great local works and committment. Given the choice of something cushy in the local council on twice the money or running the gimlet gaze of every newshound in the ex Fleet Street, what would you do? So the quality of the tiny number of people who make this place what it is is bound to diminish. Great result guys, nice one.
There is a wider issue as well. Retrospective rules have historically been avoided like the plague, although they have found a foothold in transport law already. Penalising someone for not following a rule which wasn't written at the time is tantamount to Newspeak, yet another Orwellian concept which The Other Blair preciently envisioned in a book written in what he would be amazed to discover are considered as Englands happiest days. It's a foot in the doorway to enacting all sorts of crap which could rebound on us all. Will we get tickets for parking somewhere last christmas which has only just received its shiny yellow lines? The pssibilites are endless.
So, amazingly for me, I actually feel some sympathy for these people. I beleive they actually deserve to be treated with some respect and just a little status. Happier MP's make better laws, really.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Stepping back from femasculinity
After six months of mostly unsuccessful searching I had learned a few lessons, had a few shags and spent many both emotional and financial resources. I decided to call it a day, but as an exercise it was sooooo worthwhile, so I left these thoughts on my profile...
I'm cancelling my sub. Thought I'd like to write a little postscript to say bye to you all.
In my six months on here I've learnt a lot, about myself, women, men even. I'm gonna start off with the men, coz they seem to have most issues. Guys, by and large this is not a site where casual sex is the main aim. There are many, many others for that, and most of them are more expensive. Have a little regard, if you just need a shag don't read signs that aren't there. When someone says she is looking for a relationship she means more than between the covers. Don't wink, no-one cares about winkers. Send an email every time, and do your very best not to mention bodily fluids.
That said, this is one of the most heavily promoted sites and many girls aren't that web savvy. So there is a sprinkling of girls who just openly want some more va va voom in their lives - many thx Diane - and a larger undertow of women who are actually quite content with life and really only want some pleasant company that doesn't needs batteries. A lot of these will tick the 'erotica' box, tho some do that in the mistaken belief that it makes them look more interesting. In reality it makes you a Target for a selection of lolifes that you wouldn't want in your postcode, let alone bedroom. If you really are looking more for Mr Capable than Mr Right you might want to think about lowering your age requirements. I maintain there isn't a man over 21 who would chuck Carol Vorderman out, but women haven't yet grasped this, in the same way that Marilyn Monroe is infinitely - and then some - preferable to Mrs Beckham. If you purely want some passion reignition, put yourself out to blokes 5 years older than your son. You might be surprised...
I'd also like to take a potshot at the dread adjective 'bubbly'. Fer Pete's sake. Just because you like a giggle with the girls in the office doesn't make you a weather girl. Bubbly girls read Heat magazine and do sudoku in the lunch hour. Are you looking for men who read Nuts and play solitaire in the lunch hour? What causes bubbles? Air!!! You're telling the world there's nothing going on in there. Try 'friendly', 'gregarious' even. Same meaning, better connotation.
If you're actually looking for Mr Right, have a long bath while considering carefully what is actually important to you in the long run. Chances are high that 'money' is higher up the list than you'd like to admit. Not only do most men lack a GSOH, so do most women. If you lead an ordinary life where the nearest you'll get to a career is a couple more carpet tiles in your cubicle accept the fact. Telling yourself that you really do have a chance with the guy who drives a Ferrari is Route One to disillusion. We are Men. You won't get any sense out of us till you've seen our etchings, honestly. If you want one, you'll have to deal with this truth.
And finally, myself. I've learnt that almost all of the girls on here are really good people, in stark contrast to the men apparently. My circumstances are to say the least unusual but I've been met almost universally with fun, friendship and compassion. I've realised that if I do manage to get my act together there will be someone out there for me, it's an enormous spur and a massive boost to my self esteem. I can honestly say that this site has made me more rounded, more assured and most importantly happier than I was before.
For that, thank you all x
NB. Just a note about the testimonials from two magic ladies, both of whom I met on Match. I've never heard from, let alone met, a girl who was anything less than completely gorgeous on here. As predicted I wasn't Mr. Right, then again I wasn't totally Mr. Wrong either. Apparently there's a few of those out there :( Cheers girls, my life is a better place for meeting you x
A problem I had writing this was how to label over-40yo females. Women just sounds too, well, workmanlike, whilst 'girls' is a bit Leslie Phillips, but I stuck with it. Don't take offence, a rose by any other name...
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Selling myself to femasculinity
As a single male, I decided that a dating site might be the way to go to find woman who were deranged lonely enough to consider that a night out with me might be preferable to, say, having their pubes removed with sandpaper. These sites always need you to advertise yourself in an attractive yet not overly upfront way. This is my first attempt...
Listen, I don't want to write volumes of lies about myself to impress the girls, I just want to get to the women please. This signup is like trying to get sense out of a call centre. Press 3 if you would like to continue...
... Please hold. Your self-promotion is important to us ...
A lot of women out there seem to looking for Mr. Right. Past experience suggests that he's probably not me. A lot also seem to want a 'nice guy'. Now I'm definitely one of those, but experience also shows that we're at the back of any queue. I've got an idea that a lot of people are lying to themselves more than the outside world.
To sum up: I'd like a woman. Any shape, any size, who smokes enough not to nag me about it, and has an IQ between 110 and 130. It's a small list but set in stone. Anything else, like morbid vegetarianism or tantric crochet, line dancing or organic cycling is down to chemistry, and will be nothing more than a topic for discussion (and/or derision). I myself have a positvely nerdish knowledge of insects, but will inflict that on you as little as possible.
In return you get a bloke who cares, remembers your birthday, pretends to like your cat and can supply infinite succour and support, friendship and shelving. Any takers?
Incidentally, should this post aquire a female readership, or indeed any readers at all, the above still applies.
Listen, I don't want to write volumes of lies about myself to impress the girls, I just want to get to the women please. This signup is like trying to get sense out of a call centre. Press 3 if you would like to continue...
... Please hold. Your self-promotion is important to us ...
A lot of women out there seem to looking for Mr. Right. Past experience suggests that he's probably not me. A lot also seem to want a 'nice guy'. Now I'm definitely one of those, but experience also shows that we're at the back of any queue. I've got an idea that a lot of people are lying to themselves more than the outside world.
To sum up: I'd like a woman. Any shape, any size, who smokes enough not to nag me about it, and has an IQ between 110 and 130. It's a small list but set in stone. Anything else, like morbid vegetarianism or tantric crochet, line dancing or organic cycling is down to chemistry, and will be nothing more than a topic for discussion (and/or derision). I myself have a positvely nerdish knowledge of insects, but will inflict that on you as little as possible.
In return you get a bloke who cares, remembers your birthday, pretends to like your cat and can supply infinite succour and support, friendship and shelving. Any takers?
Incidentally, should this post aquire a female readership, or indeed any readers at all, the above still applies.
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