The Blog

Lydia Hughes: Cutting Off Adele for Bleugh... I Mean, Blur

2012-02-22T17:03:04Z

There has been uproar since last night. Adele had just been awarded what can be considered the most notable award of the evening: Mastercard British Album of the Year, for her album 21. However, during her gracious acceptance speech, whilst thanking her country and fans and stating the pride she held for being part of the British nation, she was cut off by presenter James Corden, in order to cue headliners of the evening, Blur.

The cut-off in itself caused the country to cringe, and it pained Corden as he uttered the words, "I'm so sorry, and I can't believe I'm about to cut-off, I'm so sorry." Her response, which no one can rebuke, was to stick her middle finger up at the broadcasting "suits," clarifying later that it was not directed towards Blur fans. An awards ceremony held to recognize those making the greatest contributions to music in Britain first and foremost, instead gave the impression that Blur's performance superseded all else. This was of course a huge discredit to Adele.

And had Blur's performance been earth-shatteringly spectacular, it might have made up for interrupting the UK's most loved music artist. But, sadly, it wasn't. It can't be denied that in the 90s Blur were at the top of their game -- which was rewarded last night as they received the Outstanding Contribution to Music award. They have since left a legacy, and have hoards of fans who, two decades later, are still playing their music. But last night's performance, which quite literally stopped the show, was jaw-dropping -- but for being anything but awe-inspiring. Out of tune, worried momentarily that Albarn might topple over and, at times, short of being shambolic it was difficult to watch.

Let's just hope that the finale to the Olympics goes better.

Daniel Rosney: Was Twitter the Real Winner at the Brits?

2012-02-22T13:07:57Z

Winning Best British Single at this year's Brit awards was a win for One Direction, but an even bigger one for Twitter.

There is no denying What Makes You Beautiful is the perfect boy band song, it gives girls of all ages the impression that boys as cheeky as Liam, Harry, Zayn, Niall and Louis could find them attractive because it's what's on the inside that counts, obviously. The song has as much depth and meaning as The Pussycat Dolls' Don't Cha, and so was their win a crime against the internationally acclaimed Someone Like You

For those that follow the five members of '1D' on Twitter you will know that they have been self-promoting their nomination and asking/begging fans to vote. All above board but not when the majority of their fan base is teenage girls who are, according to the Brits rules, unable to vote more than once.

A search of "One Direction Brits" on the social-networking site has excited teenage girls with the ambition of seeing Harry Styles naked tweeting that they voted more than once and created multiple e-mail addresses in order for their vote to count. Not illegal, bending the rules slightly, but also making it more unfair on Adele and making the British music scene look like a joke for the internationals looking in.

Speaking to my 14 year-old sister, who at her own admission voted over 20 times she acknowledges Adele's song is better and agrees with me that the award should have been named "who has the most followers on Twitter?", especially with reports that 89% of the votes in this category were for One Direction.

Adele stole the 2011 show with her faultless performance of Someone Like You, it catapulted her to international fame and although the year brought with it some medical scares this song and this year has in her own words "changed her life forever". She broke records last week at the Grammy's by winning more awards in one night than any other British nominee in history and yet she's beaten in her hometown by five boys, barely out of school who are apparently going to 'make it big' around the world in 2012.

Speaking to Fearne Cotton in 2011 about how unactive she is on Twitter she said "I'm not going to mug off my fans when I've got something to promote" and so the Best British Female did just that and relied on her music to continue her career rather than begging for awards. It seems now, that maybe Twitter and other social networking websites (apart from Bebo and MySpace) are the future for voting.

The thought of Adele not winning an award is unthinkable in the USA. She cleaned up at the Grammy's beating of competition from the likes of Lady Gaga and Katy Perry. Congratulations to One Direction on the most un-deserved BRIT since Liberty X but it was a bigger kick in the teeth than ITV rushing her acceptance speech.

Someone Like You will live on as one of Britain's best musical exports of all time, time will only tell if One Direction can make the same mark in music history.

Mary McGill: Rihanna & Chris Brown: Why Make Music Together?

2012-02-22T01:38:41Z

In the recently leaked remix of Rihanna's Birthday Cake - a song lurid enough to make Prince blush - Chris Brown, her former boyfriend, the man who turned her face into a bloodied mess while threatening to kill her, sings lyrics so explicit they make for deeply uncomfortable listening.

The song is a provocative ode to a delicate part of the female anatomy and yet another in Rihanna's canon that purports to fly the flag of female emancipation in the bedroom but scratch the highly sexualised surface and something far more sinister begins to emerge.

If Rihanna is serious about having a lover respect her body and pleasure it accordingly as Birthday Cake's lyrics suggest, then why is the man who bit and beat her sharing vocal duties? For all the controversy, Birthday Cake sounds just like any other pop song dipped in pornography: built for shock value rather than listening pleasure. How better to get it to stand out from the din then by roping in the one male singer on the planet no right thinking individual would consider appropriate in a million years.

Rihanna has excelled as an agent provocateur and her material has grown ever more hedonistic and hyper-sexualised. She has released a staggering six albums in six years and in the rush to sell, sell, sell, she has thrown taboos about like confetti but recording two tracks with her abuser is beyond anything that has come before.

Despite his crime, Brown has a large, devoted female fan base; he still sells records by the bucket load and was awarded a Grammy last week. Clearly, the music industry is a very forgiving place, providing you keep the cash rolling in as Brown has done. Unfortunately, no award or amount of adulation can erase the horror of his actions, actions he still doesn't seem to grasp as completely abhorrent as his now infamous post Grammy tweet illustrates:

"HATE ALL YOU WANT BECUZ I GOT A GRAMMY Now! That's the ultimate FUCK OFF!"

Humble and chastened, young Mr Brown is most certainly not.

If the public take issue with Brown's continued success, what exactly is Rihanna - one of the biggest pop stars on the planet in her own right - hoping to achieve by making music with him? "Hey folks, I'm over it. Can we all move on please?" or "...with yet another new album on the market in the middle of a recession, I'm going to need to crank up the publicity machine tenfold - now, how can I do that in a jiffy? Sing an inappropriate song with the man who bashed me about? Bingo!"

Since the demise of her relationship with Brown, many of Rihanna's songs and videos have been thinly veiled homages to their time together. What her feelings are toward Brown and whether they will reunite romantically remains to be seen. What is clear is that neither they nor their management are particularly troubled by their turbulent history, in fact, they see fit to exploit it.

For two people who are clearly bad for each other not to have the common sense to leave well enough alone is tragic; using their doomed, abusive relationship as a marketing gimmick is a whole other level of wrong. No project featuring Rihanna and Brown can ever escape the lasting horror of her face in that photograph, battered and broken almost beyond recognition. In choosing to work together, they choose to remind us of it.

Rihanna once said she didn't want to be remembered solely for her disastrous relationship with Brown, which makes their duet all the more sickening and bizarrely misguided. Expecting pop stars to be moral guardians is often wishful thinking but in taking Brown to court and rebuilding her life, Rihanna became a hero to many young women, a fact she seemed to embrace. What would she say to them now? And for her fans that gained strength and took heart from her triumph, what explanation could ever be good enough?

Tom Kambouris: Would Whitney Be Alive If There Was No Bobby?

2012-02-22T00:00:00Z

Look, I do not like the question either. But it has to be asked.

And I am not defending Bobby Brown. He was a disturbed and abominable wife-beating cokehead that wore the conductor's hat for Whitney's train ride to junkie hell. But was her destination inevitable? Was Bobby interchangeable?

Here is what we know.

In the late '80s Whitney had been linked to NFL quarterback, Randall Cunningham, Hollywood megastar, Eddie Murphy, and even her best girlfriend Robyn Crawford.

When Whitney met Bobby in 1989, the term power couple did not exist. If it did, a portmanteau would have been coined the moment they laid eyes on each other: Bitney? Bobnee? Brouston? Ominously, none of it works.

Whitney already had seven consecutive No. 1s, including One Moment in Time, Didn't We Almost Have It All and Where Do Broken Hearts Go. Her trophy case was filling up with Grammys and AMAs, she had sung for Mandela in front of 70,000 people and Forbes listed her as a money printing machine. She was 26 years old and the writing was on the wall. This rocket was heading into the stratosphere.

Twenty-year-old Bobby was also on a run. His second solo album had just gone platinum eight times over. And hit single My Prerogative was on everyone's radio. Little did Whitney or anyone else know that Bobby's rocket came out of a box of fireworks. It was already fizzling out.

So why Bobby? He had been diagnosed with ADHD and bipolar disorder (manic depression). Add a tablespoon of cocaine to that cocktail and the next stop is crazy as a sh*thouse rat. Even compared to Eddie Murphy, a tweaked out Bobby Brown must have been an out-of-body experience.

Whitney's lack of confidence must have been a magnet to Bobby's swagger. Kevin Costner alludes to Whitney's low self-esteem during his eulogy (which, btw, was weirdly out of place before becoming charming, warm and touching).

There are other factors that fed into Whitney's insecurity. The black community was whispering, "too white". And rumours about her sexuality were not going away.

With all of those pressures, Whitney Houston would have welcomed some fun in Bobby Brown's psychedelic bouncy castle. And with posthumous reports that she was dabbling in drugs before they even met, it kind of makes sense.

What happens next is Whitney goes nuclear. She runs the table on the music industry and Hollywood for five straight years. Her debut movie, The Bodyguard, does $410 million worldwide. She sings The Star Spangled Banner at Super Bowl XXV that, 20 years later, is still the standard for all others to be judged by. And the awards cabinets take up a wing of her mansion.

She also becomes a full blown addict. The only difference between Whitney and a corner store crackhead is $100 million and worldwide white glove treatment as an A-list celebrity.

The most important date to remember during this period is 4 March 1993. That was the day Whitney gave birth to her only child, Bobbi Kristina Houston Brown.

During the entire lifetime of Bobbi Kristina, Whitney Houston was a drug addict. This alone speaks to the power of Whitney's demons. The majority of those years were spent with Bobby in a household gone bonkers. Spousal abuse, infidelity, drunk driving, separation, divorce, missed child support payments, child custody lawsuits, you name it. After the divorce in 2007, Whitney is linked to Snoop Dogg's cousin, Ray J, who is a singer, songwriter, record producer and actor. He is also 17 years younger than Whitney. She is now a 45-year-old woman in a young girl's game. Had yet another monkey jumped onto her back?

Whether with Bobby or Ray J, any glimmer of Whitney becoming sober was soon snuffed out by her next relapse. And Bobbi Kristina witnessed it all. The implications are a nightmare. In two weeks Bobbi Kristina will be 19 years old. There are reports that the Houston family is imploring Bobbi Kristina to enter a drug rehab facility.

I do not pray, but if I did, the words Bobbi Kristina would be in my supplications.

Whitney Houston's legacy is more bitter than sweet. She is the most awarded female recording artist of all time with two Emmys, six Grammys, 30 Billboard Music Awards and 22 AMAs. She sold over 200 million albums and singles worldwide. She was also an unstoppable crackhead for 20 years.

There were interventions that led to good weeks and months, but Whitney always chose crack-cocaine over friends, family and Bobbi Kristina.

In the end the hundred million was blown; her voice gone and body destroyed. It pains me to think about the depths Whitney may have sunk to score her next fix when the money ran out.

Bobby Brown. He is back touring with his old crew. The middle-aged men from New Edition have an upcoming casino gig in Thackerville, Oklahoma. And a bunch more like it. I guess when the Houston gravy train dried up, Bobby needed rent money. He walked out of Whitney's funeral last weekend. I hope he is smart enough to know he cannot walk out of what happened to Whitney. Bobby will be to Whitney what OJ is to Nicole. He has started his life sentence of public derision and private guilt.

The question, however, was whether the character played by Bobby Brown could have been filled by any body that fitted the bill in the tragedy that was Whitney Houston's life.

I am just asking.

Mark Cosgrove: Julius Caesar, Angelina Jolie and Me - A Week at the Berlinale

2012-02-22T00:00:00Z

If a week is a long time in politics then a week at a film festival is an eternity where you not only travel across time and space but into the minds of a female victim of war, a confused second generation British-Egyptian teenager and a reluctant revolutionary. Taking in five films a day can leave the imagination bewildered and becalmed, ravaged and enlightened. What follows are some of the highlights and observations from one of the world's most expansive and consequential film festivals.

In his introduction to the catalogue, festival director Dieter Kosslick drew attention to the fact that it was one year since the Arab Spring; something that was addressed by a number of films across the programme. He also observed the urgent need to ensure freedom of expression for artists - another theme close to the festival's heart. These two strands found outstanding manifestation in two documentaries: The Reluctant Revolutionary and Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry. This year it felt like truth was much stranger and more emotionally engaging than fiction: documentaries were getting to the heart of the matter more directly than drama.

Sean McAllister's The Reluctant Revolutionary follows Kais, a tourist guide in Yemen, as the revolution unfolds. His work is already perilous and drying up because of the Taliban and when a protest camp sets up in 'Change Square' in Yemen's capital Sana'a, Kais is non-committal partly feeling this is bad for tourism. Over time he begins to get involved and engaged. Film-maker McAllister is either a fool or brave or possibly both because he is obviously the only foreigner around, wondering in a volatile environment with secret police mingling amongst the crowds of protesters. What he captures is extraordinary with access conventional media flinch from. When the state troops shoot into the crowds the camera follows Kais into the makeshift hospitals. The scenes are devastating. But the mood of change and resilience is evident as it is in the charming reluctant revolutionary Kais.

The art of Chinese artist Ai Weiwei is inextricable from his politics and for a Chinese artist, that can be life - or at least liberty - threatening. Ai Weiwei's work is not confrontation for the sake of it but draws attention to the state's wilful dismissal of its own people. This is most apparent in the 2008 Sichuan earthquake where the state never issued the names or numbers of fatalities, many of whom were children because of ill-built schools. Ai Weiwei and colleagues documented and published the names of nearly 5500. Later he would make an installation in the front of an art gallery with 5500 school bags. In this documentary, you get a real sense of the cat and mouse confrontation between artist and state until finally, he is arrested. Released after 81 days, he is fined $2.5m, banned from meeting people and using the internet. It is moving to see ordinary Chinese people leave money at Ai Weiwei's door - the power of the artist evident.

The artist himself could not be at the screening having restricted movements imposed on him, however he managed to arrange for fortune cookies to be handed out to each audience member, which contained a unique message from Ai Weiwei to share. Mine read "You can delete the words but you cannot delete the facts" and was immediately sent into the Twittersphere.

Where fiction really did matter, was somewhat surprisingly in the hands of the glamorous Hollywood star Angelina Jolie. The red carpet razzmatazz was very much in evidence when the "Brangelina" road show hit town to the extent of preventing me from getting into Angelina's own film as she had the paparazzi captivated. However she does not pull her punches in her film In the Land of Blood and Honey, which attempts to depict the horrors, inflicted on women in the 1990s Bosnian war. Whilst it dramatically slides towards melodrama at the end, the first half of the film brings us face to face with the horrific abuses of Muslim women in the conflict.

Similarly, Philippines director Brillante Mendoza's Captive started off with a bang, throwing Isabelle Huppert as well as the audience into the hands of terrorists in a dramatisation of the 2001 incident when Muslim terrorist group Abu Sayyaf took a number people hostage from a Filipino island resort. The first hour is compelling, disorientating filmmaking giving a glimpse into the ordeal. However, the film flags in the second half. I later discovered that the director had intended the film to be three hours. Longer would have actually been better, allowing the film to more fully explore the relationship between captors and captives, the tedium and terror of over a year in captivity.

Documentary and fiction were satisfyingly brought together in the Taviani Brothers' Caesar Must Die, a compelling testament to the transformative power of art that went on to win the top prize at this year's festival. Prisoners in an Italian jail perform Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and through the process realise and understand more about their own condition. One prisoner observes: "ever since I discovered art this cell has truly become a prison." The 80-year-old veterans Taviani Brothers effortlessly merge drama, fiction, documentary and real life. Through immersion in the drama of Shakespeare, the prisoners discover more about themselves and their world. Similarly we, Berlinale festivalgoers, immerse ourselves in films and discover more about our world and ourselves.

Amy Lamé: For Some People, EVERY Tuesday Is Fat Tuesday

2012-02-21T12:07:18Z

It's FAT TUESDAY today- also known as Mardi Gras, Carnevale, or closer to home, Pancake Day. We are meant to clear out our cupboards, use up any butter, eggs, sugar. Today is a gut buster- we are encouraged to line our bellies with richness and fat in anticipation of 40 Lenten days without booze, chocolate and meat. And just when I'm getting ready to go into dietary lockdown, the menu is looking very interesting.

Condiments at the ready, people, because a Dutch scientist has created a laboratory hamburger - grown from stem cells claimed from a cow. It's the world's first synthetic burger but with a £200,000 research price tag, it won't be putting Mickey D's out of business anytime soon. But will we forsake taste for a futuristic all you can eat carnivorous buffet? The petri-dish protein will be mixed with a marble of fat and flavourings to make it palatable, as well as chemicals and antibiotics to stop it rotting. Deee-licious!

Thankfully there won't be any Dutch Frankenburgers on the menu at Burger Queen, a beauty pageant for fatties infused with the spirit of a camp 1970s gameshow. Over five weeks in March, a dozen contestants will don stretch sequins and compete in rounds of Talent, Taste and Trend. The winner will be chosen by a panel of judges with yours truly at the helm - a sort of chubby Simon Cowell - though I promise to leave my tight t-shirts at home. It's more than just an evening of flabulous fun; Burger Queen 2012 serves as a focal point for an exciting new brand of fat activism that definitely hasn't been cooked up in a laboratory test tube.

The event's creator and host Scottee wants to empower fatties and create an open and honest discussion around body politics. "It's a positive event that embraces health at every size and encourages ownership of the word fat," he explains. There are some pretty radical politics at its heart. "At Burger Queen, to identify as 'fat' is to identify as other, regardless what that might be; so you don't necessarily need to be fat in order to identify as fat. Got it? Good. Every radical political movement needs a supporting cast of multi-sized justice-fighters, after all.

Scottee, founder of Burger Queen

Until now, the issue of obesity has been very much an "us" and "them" dynamic- think Supersize vs Superskinny writ large. Burger Queen is asking everyone - regardless of body size - to step into a pair of wide width stilettos and try our chubby lives on for size.

According to Scottee, the timing has never been better. "2012 is an ideal moment to strike back as we are subjected to the Olympics, which just so happens to be sponsored by some of the worlds most calorific brands." Irony, anyone?

Our awareness of fat - fear of it, fascination with it - is heightened in this era of economic austerity. Fat has become not just an aesthetic issue, but a moral issue as well. Documentaries on obesity and competitive TV programmes disguised as light entertainment tell us fat people are broken, unhappy and a drain on the NHS. The government has been accused of browbeating fatties, actively encouraging a trickle down effect of bullying and discrimination. The murky world of dietary advice is played out on our TV screens, magazines, and radio airwaves.

Last week on Radio 4's Woman's Hour, Dr Susan Jebb, chief advisor to the UK government on obesity, lectured a woman who had failed at every dieting attempt - according to Jebb, she just needs to try harder in order to slim down. Dr Jebb is a member of Scientific Advisory Boards for Coca-Cola, Heinz, PepsiCo, Nestlé and Kellogg's. Interestingly, Heinz produce Weight Watchers foods - overpriced, undernourishing products that contribute to the organisation's paltry 6% sustained weight loss "success" rate. But they won't tell you that; they want your money, and shareholders like a restless, fat mass of people brainwashed into thinking Weight Watchers is the answer to all their chubby troubles. Not until we recognize the dichotomy of the weight loss industry - the fact it NEEDS us to be fat, unhappy and desperate to shed weight in order to make money from us - will we be truly liberated. Burger Queen is exploring this issue in a very real way.

Scottee has been on a different commercially available diet every week and has documented his experiences; a short film exploring the physical and psychological effects of the diets will be screened at each Burger Queen event. So which was the hardest to stick to? "The well known replacement shake was the worst," he claims. "I was so surprised how little I was allowed to eat and the side effects of headaches, vomiting and lack of concentration that are discussed on their official online forums." Despite losing 5lbs he has regained 2lbs in as many days and found himself thinking about hiding food - something Scottee hasn't thought about since he conquered his addiction to eating in secret years ago.

The essential issue at hand is whether fat is a problem to be solved, or just a fact of life. Scientists may be able to make uniform, perfectly balanced burgers in a petri dish, but humans are much more than a collection of cells glued together with protein, fat and vitamins. We are messy, complex, diverse; thin, fat, and everything inbetween. We educate our children that difference is a glory to be embraced, so we need to include BQ - burger queens - in our list of BME, LGBTQ, ad infinitum. And remember... for some people, EVERY Tuesday is Fat Tuesday.

Burger Queen is every Thursday in March at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, London. www.burger-queen.info

Susie Amy: MAC Impassioned Lipstick and Fish Finger Sandwiches

2012-02-21T00:00:00Z

Today has been a good day. I finally got my hands on MAC's Impassioned Lipstick - it is a colour MAC describe as 'Amped up Fuchsia' - a member of their 'Amplified' lipstick range.

I wore this shade of lipstick on the Wright Stuff a few weeks ago - one day mixed with another amplified lipstick 'Morange' - and one day on its own.

'Impassioned' is a strong shade. From reading other opinions of it online, I think it's too vibrant a colour for some people. Looks great when fading off the lips also - just a pink stain left. Other people love it as I do.

Lipstick colours take a bit of playing around with. Obviously, much depends on skin tone and lip shape. It's fun to experiment with colours, and make up styles. For anyone who enjoys wearing make up, it seems a shame to use the same products and colour palettes day after day. All that happens, if you try something new and don't like it, is that you wash it off at the end of the day! I do it constantly - often right before washing my face and going to bed!

When I first started working as an actress, I would always say to make up artists - this suits me, this doesn't suit me, I should always have this, or I can't wear that colour. Absolute rubbish. These days if someone is doing my make up, I don't request anything - apart from pencilling in gaps in eyebrows - because even if it doesn't happen to be my favourite look, or exactly what I would have chosen, I am interested to see what look they have chosen for me, and more often than not they have it absolutely right.

My office today - A sofa in Surrey, intermittently catching up on Gossip Girl.

My recipe today - Fish Finger Sandwiches (this may be the only food suggestion I ever give, as you will see it's not too complex, I am not a gifted cook, but it was too delicious for words).

Four fishfingers grilled
Two rolls
Butter
Salad cream
Spring onion
Mixed salad

MAC Impassioned Lipstick £13.50. Using this link, you then have to use their drop down shade list, to find 'Impassioned'.

Susie's Beauty Blog - www.blusherandblogging.com

Alan McGee: I Don't Trust the BBC and Neither Should You

2012-02-21T00:00:00Z

I seem to have been in Wales for months now and as ever loving it. Serious hibernation mode has set in and because of that, in the last week I've managed to re-read the Book of the Law by Aleister Crowley, then yesterday Liber Kaos by Peter J Carroll and then when I was in Sweden last week, I took my reading travelling with me and finally finished Rebels and Devils which is just an amazing book. Now I am about to begin James Joyce's Finnegans Wake as John Lennon loved it so much. I am told it is a difficult read but the best books always are. Also other than reading during hibernation, my daily routine is currently blasting out the White Album at least once a day without fail!

So what's new? Well I have just started a film company in this last month with Dean Cavanagh called Escalier 39. We'll be making our first proper movie over the summer. Why it has taken me this long to make a film I don't really know but the time definitely feels right for me and Dean to do this now. I've also decided that apart from DJing one-off gigs in places I like such as Italy, Sweden and Japan, I now think me and DJing are coming to an end. The more time I spend on projects like the book Take a Walk on the Wild Side with Harry Mulligan and the Aquarian Conspiracy paintings with Alex Lowe, and now the new film company, I just don't have time like last year to go away for seven weeks to play records.But saying that, I do like my monthly trip abroad to remember I used to be in music and the person I used to be.

Going back to Sweden; I was there last week DJing and have to say I love it there. The most amazing thing I realised this trip was the size of the country! Five hours from coast to coast by train - Malmo to Stockholm. I somehow had it in my head Sweden was small but it's massive!
I'll also be up in that London town next month to shoot my part in Svengali the Movie, I love Jonny Owen so it should be a giggle and I'm really looking forward to it.

It seems that the Hay-on-Wye supermarket bollocks has stalled as a) we already have one and why would we need two supermarkets and b) when did supermarkets build schools? Tesco have been internationally outed with their plan to get kids to work for free for them - it's not communist Russia just yet people, you need to build the gulags first!

Very pleased for the band IC1s as they seem to jump from strength to strength. I met Dan Coburn (the genius behind IC1s) through my own son Dan Devine, who's also in a band called Flats six years ago now. I love IC1s and I am obviously pleased my son's group Flats are doing so well - as they go from strength to strength too.

Final thoughts: Don't let them define your reality... if 80,000 people attacked the Iranian government building it would be called a revolution yet when it happens in Greece it's called a protest. I don't trust anything the BBC tell me and neither should you.

And http://issuu.com/cut-up/docs/cut_up_issue_1 is the link to Dean Cavanagh's new internet magazine - enjoy it!

Paola Bassanese: We Don't Need Another Amy or Whitney, We Need More Clean-Living Celebrities

2012-02-17T18:06:54Z

Celebrities' erratic behaviour and lifestyle attract more media attention than clean-living personalities who also happen to be in the public eye.

What is our fascination with damaged souls? We are fascinated by the controversial deaths of Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson but what about all those healthy, hard-working, highly focused celebrities that don't appear in gossip magazines?

Apart from vegan, media-shy Moby and yoga-loving ageing rockstar Sting, how many clean-living celebrities can we name, recognise and follow on social media?

In the glamorous world of DJing, where late night partying is the norm and alcohol and drug abuse is rife, resisting social pressure to enjoy illegal substances is hard.

Long working hours under constant flash photography and groupies all wanting attention, this is the life of those who chose a profession that require being in the spotlight: DJs, popstars, movie stars. These are exciting albeit highly pressurised careers. DJing for example is a niche market compared to a career as a popstar but the demands are similar.

Keeping cool and staying sharp in front of thousands of adoring fans may require a "helping hand" in the form of various substances and DJing requires enormous amounts of stamina. DJ AM (Adam Goldstein, Nicole Ritchie's former fiancee) was a casualty of the partying lifestyle and although he survived a plane crash and years of substance abuse cleaning up his act in the last 11 years of his life, tragically died at 36.

As more and more papers get sold because they feature paparazzi pictures of drunk celebrities staggering out of nightclubs or paying the ultimate price of their drug and alcohol addiction as body bags are carried into ambulances, can we absolve ourselves thinking that surrendering to modern life's pressures is a necessary evil? How much are we prepared to ignore our own weaknesses and be oblivious about other people's?

Take, for example, exercise. We, "normal" people, often find the most creative excuses to avoid exercising and amongst the most common excuses are lack of time and lack of energy.

Personal training is a profession where stamina is everything: most personal trainers start working with their clients at 6am and rarely finish before 9pm. What is their secret? Discipline. Exercising is their key priority and they all vouch for the amounts of energy and resistance they get from working out and helping others achieve their fitness goals.

Talking about health and fitness: enter DJ Fabrizia, the internationally-acclaimed London DJ boasting a cult following and a bill of good health thanks to clean living. The image of clubs as drug havens may soon need to change as more DJs like Fabrizia blaze the trail for a new generation of clubbers and DJs who make healthy life choices.

DJ Fabrizia credits her strict no alcohol policy during gigs, her no smoking/no drinking/no drugs in her leisure time, her 4-times-a-week-gym-habit, massage and healthy eating regime to the high energy levels and alertness that are required to be a successful DJ.

What differentiates someone's weakness for illegal substances to someone else's healthy lifestyle may be down to genetics, a tendency to addiction or self-imposed discipline through sheer willpower.

The bottom line is that there are options and we can all make informed choices, including which role models we look up to.

Therefore, when you come across someone like DJ Fabrizia who does web chats and conferences with record companies and journalists while running or power-walking on a treadmill, you know that it's motivation (plus a good dose of healthy genes) that gives you the edge.

Noel Gallagher: Tales From the Middle of Nowhere (Vol. 2): Belfast and the Psychedelic Chicken

2012-02-17T15:36:10Z

BELFAST 17/02/12

Yes...

Well, where were we? Aberdeen? Let's start there then, shall we?

A great night, I think. Feeling much more at home now up on the big stage. Think the actual size of the Manchester gig may have freaked me out there for a while!!

Good singers, that lot up in Aberdeen. Not much happening post show though. Legged it sharpish. Had to be up early the next day to travel to Belfast. A day of pure fuckin' mither!

Why is it that you travel the entire surface of the globe... Back and forth and up and down all over the place and everything seems to run like clockwork, yet you get back home and all you encounter is delay after delay after cancellation?? Why is that? It's a fuckin' shithole nightmare, that's why!!!!

Arrived in the great city of Belfast in the dark and the wet. Not much time to do anything other than order what could only be described as a bit of psychedelic room service. Chicken Maryland anyone? No... me neither.

This dish (Chicken Maryland) consisted of some kind of chicken, whether it was fried or not is still not apparent, BUT it came with a banana (which was most definitely fried!). That's right, a fried banana AND a fried pineapple!!!! Now I'm no chef, but fuck me that can't be right, can it? That top Michelin star psycho Gordon Ramsay would have garrotted whoever came up with that masterpiece... Sorry? But what did it taste like, you ask?? Absolutely delicious!! It didn't even touch the sides.

So... To the gig in Belfast. A great, great night. Right up there with the best. They were the kind of crowd you would love to take round the world with you. Loud and proud. Young kids too. Very special. My keyboard player (who shall remain nameless) had the gig of his life. If you were there you'll know what I mean... Think Rick Wakeman mid-stroke!!

You currently find me in Dublin. Say no more. Tonight will be another great, great night. No doubt.

ONWARDS.

GD.

Fran Singh: Whitney, Women, Addiction and the Press

2012-02-17T00:00:00Z

The morning after hearing the news of Whitney Houston's death, I found myself standing in a central London newsagents at 7am audibly swearing next to the front pages of the national newspapers. In the days that have followed my anger has not subsided as the headlines have become more and more ridiculous.

It is perhaps not surprising that what appeared this week was not a dignified tribute to an icon but instead a microscopic autopsy of Houston's last hours, contents of stomach included, and increasingly bizarre backstories. The tabloid press can struggle with journalistic ethics surrounding intrusion into grief at the best of times. With the death of Houston they faced two further tests; writing respectfully about women and responsibly reporting drug addiction. On both counts I think they've failed.

On the surface is hardly out of the ordinary for the gutter press and my upset at the handling of her death can partly be accounted for by bias. I am a mega Whitney fan. You can ask anyone who has heard my 3am rendition of I Have Nothing. But there was more to my dissatisfaction than my own opinions and I kept coming back to those two awkward issues.

Despite the fact that nobody yet knows the cause of death in Houston's case the paper's were quick to decide for themselves. Much like with Amy Winehouse, the reason for her death was considered a given before any official statement was made. "Once an addict, always an addict". It's a lazy and inaccurate portrayal of addiction but one all too often taken up by the popular press.

In "The Media Guide to Drugs" from charity DrugScope, designer, Pearl Lowe detailed how she felt she would always be a "junkie" in the eyes of the media. "I'm a mother of four, I work really hard, I have a successful design business... but the drugs overshadow everything I do, because I'll never be allowed to forget it."

The organisation says that the demonisation of drug users in the media can have a great detrimental effect. While it is important to give true and evidence based accounts of the causes and harms of drug use, sensationalised reporting actually can have a negative impact. You'd think splashing tales of death over the front pages would put people off. Well, according to the research it doesn't and can often have the opposite effect. The UK Drug Policy Commission in its submission to the Leveson Inquiry last month picked up on many of the same points.

They commented: "We are not only concerned with the challenge about the reportage of high-profile public figures... the inaccurate initial press assertions that Amy Winehouse died of a drug overdose, when subsequent toxicology tests showed that alcohol, and not drugs, was implicated in her death. The desire for a sensational headline appeared in her case to outweigh respect for the family and for accuracy about the cause of her death. What also concerns us is the everyday reporting of people who currently have or previously have had drug addiction problems... this stigma makes it even harder for this group to sustain recovery and rebuild their lives as well as making people reluctant to face up to having a problem and seeking help."

Using celebrities and black-and-white reporting of "the downward spiral" of drugs is a bleak tale, that focuses on the immediate harm and pays little attention to treatments, successful rehabilitation and alternative endings. The emphasis on horror stories and forgone conclusion style reporting paints a hopeless picture for anyone who faces addiction. In the case of Houston, one which is no doubt complex with details outsiders will never be fully privy to, do little than give a superficial and simplistic account of the nature of addiction.

What also struck me was how different the tone of the articles were for Houston than other celebrities with similar lifestyles, namely male celebrities. It's unfair to say this kind of extensive and morbid fascination into the intricate details of her death are because she is a woman. Would this have still happened if she was a man? Yes, I imagine it would to a degree. It is not so much the intense scrutiny, though that is part of it, it is the attitude of many of the articles and the elements on which they focus.

There are clearly double standards when it comes to reporting women in relation to drugs. As often is the case with female substance abuse it is seen as much less tolerated both in the press and more widely and this was shown in Houston's case even before her death.

One example is an article in the Sun which fondly remembers the 'legend' and 'macho' actor Oliver Reed. The paper jovially writes: "you can still, almost, hear movie legend Oliver Reed's drunken laughter echoing in the Maltese pub where he died" before listing his last orders like a trophy. A far cry from the zombie, crazy, wasted, wild-eyed (to use some adjectives I've read) Whitney on her "48-hour binge".

Take George Best, John Belushi, Russell Brand and any other boastful male rockstar. Compare and contrast these 'lads' and 'hellraisers' with Courtney Love, Amy Winehouse, Britney Spears and you begin to see a pattern. In their media guide, DrugScope also recognises this in its guide: "Women are often seen as doubly bad if they take drugs." Whitney Houston: Addict, mess, tragic, helpless, doomed. Charlie Sheen: Winning!

Many papers have also rather depressingly begun to ask if Houston was secretly a lesbian. I doubt that if Houston were male so much speculation would have be given to her sexuality being an underlying cause for her problems. Similarly much of the reporting has focused on her daughter, her daughters mental state and the impact of her mother's behaviour. DrugScope again notes this as a another common theme in reporting: "Male drug use is often seen as more acceptable than that of women and mothers, in particular, come in for a lot of criticism if they use drugs. Male drug users who are parents are not usually seen in the same sort of way."

Reading the headlines it is easy to forget the Whitney the public first fell in love with and that voice. Houston was a phenomenally gifted singer, an icon, actress and huge personality. A tribute to the niece, the daugther, the mother may yet grace the front pages when she's buried. Sadly however, I suspect I will be avoiding the newsagents for weeks to come.

Tom Kambouris: Terrence Malick Needs an Intervention

2012-02-17T00:00:00Z

I just watched The Tree of Life, starring Brad Pitt and Sean Penn, with Terrence Malick directing.

The first warning should have been the opening ethereal voiceovers whispering about the mystery of Life; and that you literally cannot count to five without being blitzed with a new camera angle. It's all good, though, because just around the corner we get Brad Pitt and Sean Penn vying for alpha actor, right?

Wrong. What happens next is a 20 minute montage that, in an attempt to explain the beauty of living evolution, is destroying my desire to breathe oxygen.

I suffer through another hour and a half of space shots and Jurassic Park intertwined with preaching from the heavens. In 139 minutes not one word of dialogue passes between Brad Pitt and Sean Penn.

Penn comes off the worst. The only direction he appears to have gotten from Malick was, "Act confused and out of place."

Why the hell is The Tree of Life up for three Oscars? What grip does Malick have on the Academy? I decide to dig into this. My mission: watch Malick's four other movies and piece together an explanation.

Badlands (1973 - 94 minutes)

It's the first minute of Badlands and I'm already sucked in. Young Martin Sheen is a little androgynous stud. He is James Dean's twin - every bit as captivating. And Sissy Spacek; my god was she really that funky looking? Let's just say it, Spacek was the first actress to cash in on albino-alien-cute.

Malick's gift is capturing offbeat moments and interesting dialogue. I get what all of the fuss was about. He wrote, directed and produced Badlands by his 30th birthday. And Hollywood had its next shooting comet.

I am, however, flagging one 30 second nature scene as Malick's first pull on the crack pipe of self-indulgence.

Days of Heaven (1978 - 94 minutes)

Sam Shepard, Brooke Adams and Richard Gere are the leads. Malick's script is a Midwest precursor to Robert Redford, Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson in Indecent Proposal; with more hopelessness and no boob job.

No one in this cast comes close to Sheen and Spacek in Badlands. Without standout acting, we get Badlands-Lite with a six minute montage of fire and locusts.

Days of Heaven receives Academy nominations for Cinematography, Costume Design and Original Score. It wins for Cinematography and Malick takes Best Director at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival. This endorsement is baffling and troublesome. Malick has upgraded his glass pipe of pretentiousness into a three-foot party bong.

The Thin Red Line (1998 - 170 minutes)

The cast is outrageous: Nick Nolte, Woody Harrelson, Sean Penn, John Cusack, John Travolta, John C. Reilly, Jared Leto, Adrian Brody and George Clooney.

In spite of the black holes in the plot, I like The Thin Red Line. It´s a guy film with two kickass war scenes.

But to review, Malick takes one of the best groups of actors ever assembled, abandons the screenplay and films miles of footage. The five hour long first cut is unwatchable. The final version is a narrative mess with gaping continuity problems and more weird voiceovers.

Hollywood continues its destructive fixation by gifting seven Oscar nominations including an unconscionable nod for Best Film Editing. And Malick just dumped a kilo of pure Peruvian self-righteousness onto his coffee table.

The New World (2005 - 135 minutes)
Starring Colin Farrell, Christopher Plummer and Christian Bale.

The same opening music, mishmash of nature shots and stupid elitist voiceovers. What comes to mind is, "I hate this f**king shit."

Because, it is true. Malick makes you want to punch your nose bone into your brain. He is getting worse!

The official time is 41:22 when I say, "F**k it, I'm done." I haven't seen Christian Bale and don't care.

Conclusion

Through two of his four earlier movies, Malick has shown exactly one talent. He draws out subtle emotions and interplay between top actors. In The Tree of Life he pisses on that talent with endless MTV slice and dice cutaways. Once again the industry turns a blind eye and hands Malick three Oscar nominations and countless film critics' awards.

Why is everyone n*thugging on this guy?

Here's my hypothesis: Terrence Malick is living off of the performances he pulled from Sheen and Spacek in Badlands. Some of the best actors on earth desperately want to have a Badlands awards season. They are willing to risk being in a Malick crime scene to get it. He is also receiving shelter from Hollywood snoberatti who don't have the guts to stand up and call bullshit on his chloroform montages.

Terrence Malick needs an intervention. Hollywood, can you please challenge his pretentiousness. Convince him to remove the voiceovers and stock footage from the Discovery Channel. Assure him that his genius comes from working with an amazing cast and a linear script. He is an addict that needs tough love, not more nominations.

Maureen Ryan: Ricky Gervais' New HBO Show Proves He's Lost His Touch

2012-02-16T16:44:58Z

There's something sour and awful about Ricky Gervais' comedy these days. He used to be a sly, cheeky observer of human behavior, but his current status as a smug, self-absorbed blowhard finds its clearest expression in his new HBO show, "Life's Too Short" (premieres Sun., Feb. 19, 10:30 p.m. EST).

In the two episodes I watched, there was exactly one funny scene: If you must sample the show, fast-forward through the first episode to get to the scene of Liam Neeson demanding to do improv with Gervais and his writing partner, Stephen Merchant. Neeson's terrible comedy instincts are not just hilarious but endearing in their innocence; "Life's Too Short's" version of the actor really wants to do comedy but has no idea how.

Gervais used to know how to be funny on a consistent basis, way back when he and Merchant created the original British version of "The Office" more than a decade ago. That much-copied show begat the current craze for the "mockumentary" comedy format, in which vast arenas of awkwardness and cluelessness are mined for laughs. There is awkwardness and idiocy on display in "Life's Too Short," which stars actor Warwick Davis as a hopefully inaccurate version of himself, but almost none of it is funny, much of it is off-putting and all of it is pointless.

In their previous series, "Extras," Merchant and Gervais explored a series of ideas about fame and what people will do to have it or be near it. That's also the theme of "Life's Too Short," but the new show merely makes Davis, a little person who has appeared in "Willow," the "Star Wars" movies and the Harry Potter films, the mouthpiece for Gervais' threadbare, self-serving ideas about celebrity. In "Extras," Gervais played a man so desperate to become an actor that he was willing to spend weeks as a bored background performer; Davis plays an actor past his prime who is willing to trade on his status as a semi-famous actor and his stature to hustle all manner of undignified gigs.

There are a lot of things that are off-putting about "Life's Too Short," starting with the fact that the Davis character does not resemble a real person; he's just a mishmash of traits that haphazardly change based on the needs of the show (i.e., Davis is smart in one scene, stupid in the next; he's secure in one moment and then desperately insecure in the next; he's kind one moment and cruel seconds later, etc). But the most unpleasant thing about the show is that one gets the sense that Gervais and Merchant made Davis the star because it would be easier to garner sympathy for the character based on his size.

In a scene set at a sci-fi convention, for instance, Davis is interviewed by a moronic journalist who has no idea who he is and who asks that Davis stand on a chair to make the interview easier to film. Davis is uncomfortable, understandably; the reporter is so rude that it's impossible not to have sympathy for the actor. Yet moments earlier, Davis spent several minutes berating the mother of a sick kid who wanted a free autograph for her son.

The whole convention sequence was unfunny and predictable (news flash: Nerds can't get girls!), but it was hard not to feel, in the scene with the reporter and elsewhere, that the show was regularly attempting to manipulate the audience into having sympathy for a character who is selfish and petulant most of the time.

David Brent, the spectacularly clueless lead character of the U.K. "Office," was something of an oddity when he first arrived on the TV scene, but by this point, the comedy dynamics of characters who have no self-awareness or social skills are well established. The rhythms of "a nice statement followed by a clueless/mean statement" are every bit as predictable as the setup-punchline rhythms of a traditional, three-camera sitcom. Because these kinds of tin-eared comedy types are everywhere now, execution is everything; the comedy has to be fresh and inventive and the characters have to have a few redeeming traits for the jokes to work.

Nothing about "Life's Too Short" feels fresh; the entire enterprise feels like yet another excuse for Gervais to go through his Rolodex and appear on screen with the famous people he likes to "mock." When Davis and other celebrities appear in Gervais' office for no real reason, it feels forced, and when Davis makes a statement about how his wife had to diet to fit into her wedding dress, you just know it's going to be followed by a crack about how she didn't lose as much weight as he would have liked.

The fact is, Ricky Gervais' TV shows and attempts at stand-up comedy keep repeating the same ideas over and over again, with increasingly unfunny and predictable returns. As was the case with "The Office" and "Extras," "Life's Too Short" features an alternately cruel and clueless character who has a particularly dumb sidekick (Davis has an assistant whose main contributions are blank, vacant looks), and whatever Gervais and Merchant try to do with their characters these days, their tiresome arrogance is all that is really memorable.

You could watch the second episode to see Johnny Depp's guest turn, but it just reinforces a concept that Gervais has promoted in his Golden Globes appearances and self-congratulatory interviews: The idea is that he has the upper hand over celebrities because he dares to ruffle their giant egos. The fact that Gervais' quips are often hacky and cliched apparently never occurs to him, and the idea that his characters have no other purpose than to act as his smarmy mouthpieces must not bother him.

In "Life's Too Short," Depp is made to seem like a thin-skinned crazy person (he humiliates Davis' character by making him dance and having him get into a toilet), and the smirk on Gervais' face when Depp rants about those Golden Globes gibes tells you everything you need to know about Gervais' priorities. He wants the famous people to notice him and to tacitly acknowledge that he's not just "edgy" and "daring" but more powerful than they are, because they're willing to come on his show and act silly for the cameras. If that's what passes for artistic courage, it's weak sauce.

A couple of minutes from the end of the second installment, I turned the episode off. I just could not take the show's sloppy inconsistencies any more. Davis' character had agreed to make an appearance at a fan's wedding (for a price, of course), and as soon as a member of the wedding party made a speech about a much-loved older relative who had died, I was sure Davis would take the microphone and say tasteless things about the dead woman.

He did exactly that, and then, for good measure, Davis added a foul joke about the bride, whom he'd barely met. Not only was the "joke" unfunny, Davis' behavior just made no sense. There's no way a character who is moderately intelligent in other contexts -- and who is, by the way, desperate for money -- would have insulted people he barely knew on their wedding day, before getting paid. But it would seem his characters' humanity, consistency and reality don't matter in the slightest to Gervais. It's both shocking and sad that a man who helped create "The Office's" Tim and Dawn -- characters who became iconic for their depth and humanity -- has essentially created, as Newsweek/The Daily Beast's Jace Lacob accurately wrote, "a little-person minstrel show."

I loved the U.K. "Office" and I think certain episodes of Season 2 of "Extras" are very funny, but this new program goes a long way toward proving that Gervais has turned into David Brent. The writer/comedian/Golden Globes host's bullying tendencies and abrasive self-regard are increasingly off-putting, and he displays none of Brent's skewed naivete or desire to be liked.

Gervais may think he's bold, but at this stage, he's just a bore.

Note: Ryan McGee and I talk about "Life's Too Short," "Parks and Recreation," "The Walking Dead" and "Cougar Town" in this week's Talking TV podcast, which you can find here and and on iTunes. The podcast's RSS feed is here.

Sheila Hageman: Cindy Crawford Retracts Her Support of Kaia's Young Modeling Career

2012-02-16T15:27:42Z

Radar Online reports that Cindy Crawford has changed her mind about her daughter's modeling career.

"At this point, she's too young to pursue a career," the 45-year-old supermodel told The Daily about her "mini me". "There aren't even a handful of jobs for a 10-year-old girl."

Crawford's 10-year-old daughter Kaia Gerber was recently featured in the new Young Versace Campaign. At the time, Crawford gushed about how wonderful it was.

I wondered in a blog post who or what was the impetus to get Kaia involved in modeling. Perhaps growing up surrounded by images of her mother all dolled-up was enough for Kaia to want to be seen as just as beautiful and glamorous.

I think this quote might clue us in on the truth...

Crawford continued about her daughter: "She kind of jokingly said - I'm not even sure if it was jokingly - 'I might model first because you don't have to know how to do anything, but then I want to be a baby nurse.' "

Ah! From the mouths of babes.

Kaia seems to be a pretty intelligent young lady. To recognise the reality of the modeling world at 10-years-old.

I'm kind of proud of Cindy Crawford, too, for sharing her daughter's wisdom with the world.

And while I'm not knocking the hard work that models do sometimes (I remember posing in freezing cold weather with no clothes on all day - not fun!), there is not a high level of skill involved in posing and looking pretty.

It's like playing dress-up for grown-ups. Yes, I mean, how cool is that? And to get paid large sums of money for it? Again, how awesome!

But keep in mind that that is the minority. Most struggling young models face an uphill battle of fighting for jobs, dealing with lecherous individuals, and struggling with body image and self-esteem issues.

And if they have some small success? Models are certainly not out there saving the world by striking a pose and selling products. Of course, one might argue that supermodels are able to do good in the world by using their celebrity to support causes.

Why, yes, that is true. But that is a very small percentage. How much more good could a young woman do by choosing to become "a baby nurse"?

For Kaia's sake, I hope she maintains this mature attitude - that modeling can be a way to make money to further a career that involves more than wearing pretty clothes.

A way to help all young girls to understand this important lesson? Let's start highlighting something other than supermodels and actresses on magazine covers.

Let's feature the latest women newsmakers in science, medicine, literature - and let's not dress them up in Versace gowns - let's show them as themselves, dressed in their every day garb.

Working. Living. Using their skills and brains to change the world. Not their looks.

I don't know about you, but I would buy that magazine.

Anna Hart: Lipgoss: Adele, Petra Ecclestone and Christina Aguilera Have Much Nicer Homes Than You

2012-02-16T11:18:44Z

Wasting our life on pop culture blogs and gossip sites, so you don't have to.

Poor old February is famous for being the most depressing month of the year. I always back an underdog, so this simply makes me warm to this chilly series of weeks. With such low expectations of a month, it invariably overdelivers on the pleasure and satisfaction front. Plus, February is hands-down the best month of the year for daydreaming about a nicer life. If you were planning on fantasising about chucking in your job to become a dive instructor in Indonesia, or run a cookery school in Tuscany, Fantasy February is the month to do it.

To get your hopes and delusions off to a rip-roaring start, I'm pleased to bring you some Grade A real estate porn. First up, 3am.com has all the goss on Adele's 10-bedroom, grade II-listed Home Counties mansion, complete with two swimming pools and 25 acres of greenery. And it's got all mod cons: tennis courts, helicopter landing pad, helicopter hangar and 'media centre'. Valued at £7 million, with a monthly rent of £15,000, it's nonetheless a rustic cottage compared to Petra Ecclestone's LA mansion. Formerly home to the Spelling dynasty, the 23-year-old daughter of Formula One mogul Bernie drafted in 500 workers over three weeks to do a snazzy refurbishment job. We like what she's done, we really do.

Most fun of all, of course, are the newly-released pics of Christina Aguilera's insanely chintzy Beverley Hills pad. If you mix the Disney Store with the Brighton Pavilion and throw in a load of furniture discarded by the Malmaison Newcastle for being too garish, you've got a pretty decent vision of the Xtina-box.

Paul McCartney Pulls His Socks Up

In an interview with Rolling Stone magazine, Paul McCartney has pledged to give up smoking "wacky baccy" for the sake of his eight-year-old daughter Beatrice. "I smoked my share. When you're bringing up a youngster, your sense of responsibility does kick in, if you're lucky, at some point," says the former Beatle. "Enough's enough - you just don't seem to think it's necessary." During divorce proceedings, Heather Mills, Beatrice's mum claimed the former Beatle smoked cannabis as regularly as most people drink tea. We'll totally get behind anyone's efforts to better themselves, but Sir Paul's been doing okay, in our book. He hasn't shagged and toured his way into old age. He hasn't turned into a bit of a racist. And he hasn't been shot.

The Good, The Bad And The Ugly Houston Coverage

This week, after hearing about my busy day trying to find a suitable journalist to write about Whitney Houston for a certain women's glossy mag, a relative asked "Isn't there a case for leaving well alone? She's dead, after all." It's a sensible question, but the answer is "no".

Houston is a major pop culture figure for my generation, and a bona fide legend in soul circles. Whether or not you liked her music, Whitney Houston mattered to a lot of people, and it would be wrong not to mark her death because of the circumstances of it.

That said, there's plenty of reading material around right now which will leave a nasty taste in your mouth, lurking just a few clicks away from the more palatable coverage. We've got heartfelt praise and gratitude from longstanding friends in the music industry. We've got sycophantic tributes from people who never met her. We've got the grim, unnecessary photos of the bathroom she died in, with absurd labels pointing out the "gravy boat" and "tragic star's hair ties," flimsily and dishonestly presented as some sort of anti-drugs campaign. We've also got some original and valuable accounts of addiction. I've only included links to the stuff that I found worthwhile. It's all out there on the net, of course, but remember that you've got a choice what you read about Whitney Houston this week.