Thursday 31 May 2012

Right Proper Kylie



I love it when stuff is stranger than I was going to make up.
                          The BBC showed the 2004 film version of The Merchant Of Venice yesterday, at 1.45 in the afternoon. It's news (well, the Daily Mail at any stretch) because there have been four complaints received due to the fifteen shots of bare breasts within it. Presumably because it will have shocked minors in such a pre-watershed slot. Equally presumably those minors that having bunked off school did so to watch Jeremy Irons in a cinematic presentation of Shakespeare. We’re of course talking partial nudity from actresses. The minors in question having doubtless watched the film on the off-chance, Bluto from Animal House style, on a ladder outside the window.
                          I only know about it all because down the post office Michael Praed was outraged this morning, mostly because he missed it. I’m sorry to bring Michael up of course because reading this you’re almost certainly now pregnant. In truth it wasn’t this that offended him so much as that in the same day the Telegraph brought up once again Sophie Dahl’s nude advert ten odd years ago. You probably don’t remember it, I certainly didn’t. It was for Yves Saint-Laurent and showed Miss Dahl admittedly nude, basically artfully, but without the photographic eye of anything that would normally be considered fine-art. Even seeing it today I don’t remember seeing it then.
                          But I do remember (if one has to recall such things) Kylie’s advert for Agent Provocateur. It’s bound to be on the net somewhere.
                          So if we’re going to see anything reported for being mucky, let’s make sure it’s proper mucky.
                          Proper Kylie mucky.

7 comments:

  1. I wanted to complain today but I was too busy. I would have complained and been called names by good Christians because it was a church that pissed me off.
    There is a church somewhere in Britain - a thousand years old apparently- which is infested with bats. They fill the church with poo and pee and sometimes the parishioners have to hold their services under a garden awning outside because the inside is a health risk. Bats being endangered and protected they can't stop them using the church. There has been a concerted effort over many years now to persuade the bats to go elsewhere by, for instance, insulating the lych gate and putting in heating, but the bats still keep coming. Much money has been spent. A reporter interviewed a bat expert and a miserable old bat from the church. Not a real bat a very grumpy middle aged church goer. The expert explained yet again how bats were protected because the numbers were in decline. The grumpy woman said it was a place of worship not a bat nursery and toilet. It had been twelve years since they had been able to hold a wedding there.
    So I wanted to say to her, where is your god in this? Either you believe that your god is omnipotent and omniscient, in which case either accept that he has a purpose in putting the bats - his creation- in the church and ask him to move them. Or stop pretending you have any sort of faith and admit your religion is simply a lifestyle choice which doesn't allow for dirty, big-eared, flying rodents shitting on you while you play hypocrite singing "All things bright and beautiful"..

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    1. The proof of god can be seen in the Kylie advert suggested. He is clearly a loving god with an appreciation for good quality lingerie.

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    2. Ah! That God is obviously a woman:}

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  2. Poor old Praed, he doesn't have much luck. I was at school with two brothers, dramatically inclined chaps, they both ended up working in the West End, backstage, and I'd often join them for a drink after my work and before theirs . Imagine their joy when they discovered that Robin of Moldavia himself was joining the cast. On several occasions they'd come into the pub parading an eye-watering selection of pornography which they'd then secrete around the stage where only Praed could glimpse it (in a desk draw that he had to open was popular). I don't think they ever broke him, he never got over Judi Trott, but it's scarred him to this day. Behind the outrage, it's there, a yearning hunger for something he can never have again.

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    1. As you tell the wife, "Honestly, it's for Michael Praed!"

      "A likely story Xavier, as all good women know Michael Praed does not need pornography. He is pornography."

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    2. I can't tell the wife it's for Praed, the mere mention of his name would probably get her pregnant.

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