Friday, 18 August 2017

Nice to see you; to see you...



...Nice!





And so, farewell to Sir Bruce Forsyth; yet another mainstay of British light entertainment, a man beloved of generations - his career spanned more than 75 years, a rival to Betty White! - not least for his remarkably successful turns in shows such as Sunday Night at the London Palladium, The Generation Game, Play Your Cards Right and Strictly Come Dancing.

A former strong-man and teenage Music Hall star, a trained dancer, singer, comedian and genial host, Bruce Forsyth epitomised that (unfortunately fading) genre known as "variety". He was - or so it seemed - always "there"; always a pivotal persona on our television screens, always prime-time, never off-beat or in the sidelines.

He was indeed "Mister Entertainment" [and it is no surprise, really, that the other bearer of that title Sammy Davis Junior was a very close friend}. Here he is, performing with another of the all-time great all-rounders, Miss Cilla Black...


RIP Sir Bruce Joseph Forsyth-Johnson CBE (22nd February 1928 – 18th August 2017)

Tijd voor een feestje



It may be the continuation of our holiday, albeit in London - getting the place ready for guests, and shopping for our grand Summer Picnic in Regent's Park tomorrow - but it is still the end of another week, so we need something a bit special to get us in the party mood.

I always like to annoy entertain you, dear reader, with a little "something" from our travels - so let's enjoy the "talents" of Den Haag's finest, a band [somewhat confusingly, given the success of a certain similarly-titled US funk band] called Earth & Fire...

They're celebrating the Weekend, and so are we - Thank Disco(?) It's Friday!


Have a good one, mijn vrienden!

Thursday, 17 August 2017

Thin ice






Once upon a time I could get my legs that high, too

Lordy. Olympic gold-medal-winning ice skater Robin Cousins is sixty years old today!

Why the interest, I hear you ask?

In my youthful heyday, many people thought I looked like Mr Cousins (no bad thing, I must admit) - even to the point where I signed a little girl's autograph book "Best Wishes, Robin Cousins"..!

Nowadays, I look more like Bea Arthur.

Hey ho - let's have a bit of ice skating madness to celebrate!

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

While you were away...



And so, we're back, from outer space Amsterdam - and suffice to say, we had a marvellous time! From night-time sleaze-pits to daytime botanical gardens, from promenades along the grachten to schlager sing-a-longs, from FEBO to "happy hour" drinkies and back again...



But what did we miss while we were whooping it up, Netherlands-style?

We waved a sad goodbye to the marvellous Glen Campbell (who I blogged about, in a roundabout way, nine years ago), and also to the divine Miss Barbara Cook (who we saw in her one-woman show Mostly Sondheim way back in 2002):


In the news it was mainly "business as usual", with the continuing battle about the terms for Britain leaving the EU, and the to-be-expected "willy-waving" threats and counter-threats between North Korea and the US. Meanwhile, anarchic race-hate thuggery re-emerged in the USA (and Trump, as ever, couldn't bring himself to take sides); neither Usain Bolt nor Sir Mo Farah retired on a high in the World Athletics Championships; rumours abounded (well, in the Daily Star, anyway) about a possible engagement announcement for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle; and controversy raged over Health Minister Jeremy Hunt's £44,000 toilet.



We missed the centenary of the cartoonist Dik Browne, creator of Hagar the Horrible, and what would have been the 65th of iconic photographer Herb Ritts...



...we missed the 70th birthday of glamour-pulp novelist Danielle Steel (and the 105th of her predecessor in the multi-million-selling romantic novel stakes, Georgette Heyer), and that of Steeleye Span singer Maddy Prior. And, of course, today is Our Glorious Leader Madonna's birthday - and we daren't forget that - so here's a classic of hers that still remains on the playlist at many a bar in the 'Dam [but probably not in Charlottesville, Virginia at the moment]:


Is it good to be back? No.

Friday, 11 August 2017

Mijn Mokums paradijs



By the time you read this, dear reader, we should already be in the most beautiful city of them all - and singing along with Johnny Jordaan, no doubt...


"Normal" service will resume next Tuesday...

Thursday, 10 August 2017

This is me



On this day in..
1678 – France and the Dutch Republic signed the first Treaty of Nijmegen, ending war between the two countries - and in celebration, Marc-Antoine Charpentier wrote his Te Deum, the prelude of which is better known as the Eurovision Song Contest theme:


1787 - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart completed his chamber piece Eine kleine Nachtmusik:


1897 - Jack Haley, the "Tin Man" in The Wizard of Oz was born:


1923 - The birth of Rhonda Fleming:


1950 - The premiere of Sunset Boulevard starring William Holden and Gloria Swanson took place in New York:


1963 - I was born.

Oh, and...

1970 - Jim Morrison went on trial for “lewd & lascivious behaviour” in public by exposing his private parts and by simulating masturbation and oral copulation.

How appropriate.

As is this, dear reader!


Funny how a lonely day can make a person say:
What good is my life?
Funny how a breaking heart can make me start to say:
What good is my life?
Funny how I often seem, to think I'll never find a dream
In my life
Till I look around and see, this great big world is part of me
And my life

This is my life
Today, tomorrow, love will come and find me
But that's the way that I was born to be
This is me
This is me

This is my life
And I don't give a damn for lost emotions
I've such a lot of love I've got to give
Let me live
Let me live

Sometime when I feel afraid, I think of what a mess I've made
Of my life
Crying over my mistakes, forgetting all the breaks I've had
In my life
I was put on earth to be, a part of this great world is me
And my life
Guess I'll just add up the score, and count the things I'm grateful for
In my life

This is my life
Today, tomorrow, love will come and find me
But that's the way that I was born to be
This is me
This is me

This is my life
And I don't give a damn for lost emotions
I've such a lot of love I've got to give
Let me live
Let me live

This is my life
This is my life
This is my life


Roll on Amsterdam!

Wednesday, 9 August 2017

Niet in mijn oren prikke*



I know I only kicked off the countdown this morning, but here's something that's not merely in the true spirit of our favourite city, but also has the added benefit of a "totty of the day" as well!

It's doubtful many people would pay much attention to a song about pigeons - but with its singer Waldemar Torenstra, this is a sight for sore eyes...


I do hope we encounter something like that on our travels.

["Do not peck my ears" in Dutch. Apparently.]

You're the Top(per)!



The countdown to Amsterdam this weekend may have started somewhat late, dear reader - but who else would we ever choose to begin the party than...

...de Toppers?!!

Definitely the campest thing since gesneden brood, they have sold out the massive Amsterdam Arena twenty-eight times since 2005 - and their sequin-clad tickets are many times over-subscribed every year. It is still our ambition to get to one of their spectacular shows one day, however. And it's not difficult to see why we desperately want to be there...

...all together, now!


De Toppers on Wikipedia

Tuesday, 8 August 2017

European Blues? Not likely!



Having a very slow day here at Dolores Delargo Towers, in the company of more impossibly glamorous people in beautiful clothing and in exotic climes - again...

Thank heavens for Soft Tempo Lounge, I say.


Music: Honey Moon by Rovi (aka Piero Umiliani)

Of course, we don't have "European Blues" at all - we're off to Amsterdam on Friday!

Monday, 7 August 2017

Walk in the sunshine of your heart



Darlings! We're back from Essex and the Hyde Hall RHS show - without a surfeit of new plants, I might add; how very restrained of us - and just in time to close proceedings on another Tacky Music Monday. (Joy of joys - without the prospect of work to cloud the usual Monday mood!)

What better to lead the way in our mission to provide the world with a little song-n-dance-sunshine than a new discovery - today's birthday celebrant [and recently, after all the rumours that apparently surrounded her for years, self-declared lady lesbian] Miss Lana Cantrell?

A complete mystery to those of us in the UK, Australian Lana nevertheless carved herself a career as a light entertainment TV stalwart and chanteuse in America in the 1960s, and latterly has become a top lawyer in Noo Yawk. Quite the career gal - and she knows how to work those dancers..!


Lena Cantrell (born 7th August 1943)

Saturday, 5 August 2017

That's the way...



We're off on our travels - only as far as Essex, admittedly; no passports needed - for the RHS Hyde Hall Flower Show with Baby Steve and Houseboy Alex. The weather looks like it will be fine and dry, and all's well with the world.

It would also have been the birthday today of that most amazing "triumph of art over nature", Mr Pete Burns of Dead or Alive - so let's have an appropriate send-off with their very first hit! Lord knows what KC made of this...


When you take me by the hand
Tell me I'm your loving man
When you give me all your love
And do it the very best you can


Mummy, I'm scared.

Friday, 4 August 2017

Party down



Wheee! It's not just a weekend - it's my last day on the office for two weeks!

We have my birthday visit to Amsterdam to look forward to next weekend, and this weekend we are escaping the athletics-dominated environs of London for the RHS flower show at Hyde Hall, staying with the boys in Essex...

Speaking of "athletic" - a tenuous link if ever there was one - to usher in the celebrations, here's Players Association (with the estimable assistance of Legs & Co) and Turn The Music Up - Thank Disco It's Friday!


Turn the music up
Turn the music up
Turn it up
Party down
C'mon!


We will - will you?

Thursday, 3 August 2017

Oh, the good life, full of fun seems to be the ideal


Me and Hils at Gay Pride 2017

Happy birthday to my dear sister! [It hardly seems a year since we were all at her 50th birthday bash...]

Let's let fellow birthday boy Mr Tony Bennett take it from here:

Wednesday, 2 August 2017

The lot of you!


Prince Philip has completed his last public engagement, locked the gates of Buckingham Palace and told crowds to ‘fuck off out of it’ for the last time.

The 96-year-old’s final engagement concluded outside the palace, after which the Queen’s consort glanced around at the assembled crowds and prepared to unleash his obscene finale.

Philip shuffled through the palace gates, locking them behind him and adding a new chain and lock purchased at his own expense from a nearby hardware store, before adding: “I don’t know what you think you’re all looking at.”

He then made a shooing motion and said “Go on, fuck off out of it, the lot of you” which sent cheers echoing down the Mall as gentlemen threw their bowler hats in the air and ladies waved their lace handkerchiefs.

The band of the Grenadier Guards then played a specially commissioned piece entitled I Hate Every Last Fucking One of You.

A Palace spokesman said: “The Duke of Edinburgh has retired from public life and requests Britain to leave him alone, especially those cheeky little bastards who keep kicking their ball against the wall and calling him a ‘nonce’.

“He hopes to now finally do something worthwhile.”
The Daily Mash

Of course.

The "real" story

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

Monday, 31 July 2017

Monday drain



Oh, Mondays...

Today, not only do I have to get up for work but I also have to come back and sit all afternoon waiting for a contractor to come and unblock our drain outside the back door.

It's a glamorous life.

Hey ho, on this Tacky Music Monday, let's venture over to Bollywoodland for an appropriately diverting number!


Fingers crossed a) the workman's gorgeous; and b) he clears it all up successfully and quickly.

I feel like going out for a curry...

Sunday, 30 July 2017

Distraction, Italian style



As the grey ominous skies continue to loom, and thundery storms batter the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers, our thoughts are somewhat distracted by dreams of warmer climes.

Let's drop in on the sumptuous lives of impossibly glamorous people, cavorting in exotic locations, once again - courtesy of the fabulous Soft Tempo Lounge!


Ah, that's better.

[Music: Niña No Divagues by Agustin Pereyra Lucena; clip from the film Io la conoscevo bene]

Saturday, 29 July 2017

Totty of the Day



Fancy being a "regular Royal Queen"?

Well, young Arthur Chatto (above) is 23rd in line for the throne, so one could be in in with a chance...

I'm measuring up for my tiara (and several other "Crown Jewels") as we speak!

Friday, 28 July 2017

A weekend Love Affair


Dance, Dance, Dance (Yowsah, Yowsah, Yowsah)

All this week on Radio 2, the utterly wonderful Scissor Sister Ana Matronic has been covering the flagship evening music show for its regular host Jo Wiley - and, given the celebratory tone of the Beeb's "Gay Britannia" season, she has given centre stage to LGBT artists and "gay icons" on every show.

Last night, she played an old favourite from 2008 - a song that I freaked over at the time - and I whooped to hear it again! Heaven knows, we need something classy to get our weekend party celebrations started...

...so, raise your glasses to Hercules and Love Affair - and Thank Disco It's Friday!



As a child, I knew
That the stars could only get brighter
That we would get closer
Get closer
Leaving this darkness
Behind


Indeed.

Have a great weekend, dear reader!

Thursday, 27 July 2017

Who was more influential - Wolfenden or his son who wore make-up?



The media has gone mad for gays lately!

Of course, it's all because of a small matter that happened fifty years ago - the (partial) decriminalisation of homosexuality in England and Wales. As we are all to well aware, "celebration" is perhaps not necessarily the right way to approach the subject, given the fact that there were many decades of strife to follow that one momentous Act of Parliament, and the fact that this ground-breaking piece of legislation had such a long and drawn-out birth that began a decade earlier...

From a Guardian article by Geraldine Bedell in 2007:
In the mid-1950s, there was an atmosphere of a witch-hunt (probably not unrelated to what was happening in America with McCarthy), with consequent opportunities for blackmail. Leo Abse, who eventually piloted the Sexual Law Reform Act through Parliament, recalls that, as a lawyer in Cardiff, his fees from criminals suddenly all started coming from the account of one man. He investigated and found he was "a poor vicar. The bastards were bleeding him. I sent for one of the criminals and told him if I had another cheque from this man, I'd get him sent down for 10 years. I sent for the vicar and told him to come to me if they approached him again."

MPs on both sides of the House began to demand action. One or two newspapers ran leaders. And then there was another high-profile case in which the police were called on one matter and ended up prosecuting another. Edward Montagu, later Lord Beaulieu, contacted the police over a stolen camera and ended up in prison for a year for gross indecency. Two of his friends, Michael Pitt-Rivers and Peter Wildeblood, got 18 months. Their trial in 1954 probably played into the decision of the Home Secretary, David Maxwell-Fyfe, to establish the Wolfenden Committee to consider whether a change in the law was necessary.

As Lord Kilmuir, Maxwell-Fyfe led the opposition to law reform in the Lords, so it was ironic that he started the process. Perhaps he thought, by handing over to a committee, to shelve the issue. Perhaps he assumed Wolfenden would find against, in which case, he chose a curious chairman, because Wolfenden had a gay son, Jeremy. [Pioneering gay rights activist] Antony Grey told me that when Wolfenden accepted the job, he wrote to Jeremy saying "it would be better if he weren't seen around him too often in lipstick and make-up".

[Fellow pioneer and "founding father" of the Campaign for Homosexual Equality] Allan Horsfall believes homosexuality was tacked on very late in the day to the business of a committee that had already been set up to look into the legal status of prostitution. (Certainly, its remit covered both; its findings were popularly referred to as The Vice Report.) That would make sense of the choice of chairman, although it is also possible that, given the secretive atmosphere of the time, Maxwell-Fyfe didn't know Wolfenden had a son who wore make-up.

The Wolfenden Committee sat for three years and recommended that homosexual acts between consenting adults in private should no longer be illegal. Setting the tone for the discussion about law reform that would follow, it made no attempt to argue that homosexuality wasn't immoral, only that the law was impractical. The age of consent should, in the committee's view, be set at 21 (it was 16 for heterosexuals). The weedy reasoning behind this was that young men left the control of their parents for university or national service. In fact, it seems to have reflected a general prejudice that homosexuals were even more simple-minded than girls.
It took ten years before the findings of the Wolfenden Report were finally passed into law with the Sexual Offences Act of 1967.

In today's Guardian, our esteemed pal and "gay rights spokesman", Polari host Paul Burston takes up the baton - from the perspective of someone who, like me, came out in the mid-80s when things were still far from "reformed":
There was a lot to be angry about in the mid-80s. The age of consent for gay men was 21, which meant the law was being broken on a regular basis. Section 28, with which the Thatcher government outlawed the promotion of homosexuality in schools, was just around the corner. And soon a big disease with a little name would claim the lives of many of my closest friends.

Around this time I had a friend called Tom, who was in his 60s and who would often tell me tales of life before the 1967 act. He and his partner had been together for many years but slept in two separate single beds. As he told me, “You could be put in prison just for loving someone.” The day the act was passed he and his partner went out and bought a double bed. Every time he told me this story, my eyes would fill with tears.

It’s a commonly held misconception that the 1967 act legalised male homosexuality. It didn’t. It partially decriminalised it under certain conditions. In the years that followed, gay sexuality was policed more aggressively than before and the number of men arrested for breaching those conditions actually rose considerably. As research conducted by Peter Tatchell recently found, in 1966 some 420 men were convicted of the gay crime of gross indecency. By 1974, that number had soared by more than 300% to over 1,700 convictions.

Policing in the 80s and early 90s was virulently homophobic, whipped up by hysteria around AIDS and gay-baiting newspapers such as the Sun, Daily Mail and News of the World. Manchester’s police chief, James Anderton, penned a tabloid column about AIDS in which he described gay men as “swirling in a human cesspit of their own making”. Gay saunas were raided. “Disorderly house” charges were pressed against gay bars and nightclubs. At the Royal Vauxhall Tavern one night there was a raid by police wearing rubber gloves. The drag queen Lily Savage – also known as Paul O’Grady – encouraged everyone to resist arrest.

I’m not saying that the 1967 Act wasn’t revolutionary. In many ways it was. For men such as my old friend Tom, it meant a change of life. Finally he got to sleep with his partner in a double bed!

But it was also very limited. It allowed the law to go on punishing us for things heterosexuals took for granted – the freedom to have sex at 16, the freedom to express our love in public, the freedom to be ourselves.
Regardless of hindsight, July 1967 was a momentous moment in time for our gay forefathers in the UK half a century ago, and to that I raise a toast!

But what else was in the news at the time? The Vietnam War (of course) continued to occupy the headlines, as did the Cold War (with worsening relations between Russia and China); the first UK colour television broadcasts begin on BBC2; the Nigerian civil war led to dreadful famine in its formerly secessionist state of Biafra; British Steel was nationalised; and race riots swept across the USA, leaving hundreds dead or wounded.

This was (apparently) "The Summer of Love", and the music scene was dominated by the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper, The Doors and myriad "hippie" tunes. In the UK charts this very week in 1967, All You Need is Love was at #1, and Scott MacKenzie, Pink Floyd, Procol Harum, The Turtles and Small Faces were all present and correct; also in the running were more "mainstream" artists such as Lulu, Engelbert Humperdinck, Sandie Shaw and the Johnny Mann Singers.

But, held off the top only by the Fab Four was this unabashedly camp number (which I imagine loads of gay boys were singing as they toasted the Sexual Offences Act with several large glasses of Blue Nun) - it's house fave here at Dolores Delargo Towers, Miss Vikki Carr!


I tell myself what's done is done
I tell myself don't be a fool
Play the field have a lot of fun
It's easy when you play it cool

I tell myself don't be a chump
Who cares, let him stay away
That's when the phone rings and I jump
And as I grab the phone I pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God
It must be him or I shall die
Or I shall die
Oh hello, hello my dear God
It must be him but it's not him
And then I die
That's when I die

After a while, I'm myself again
I take the pieces off the floor
Put my heart on the shelf again
You'll never hurt me any more

I'm not a puppet on a string
I'll find somebody else someday
That's when the phone rings, and once again
I start to pray

Let it please be him, oh dear God
It must be him , it must be him
or I shall die, Or I shall die
Oh hello, hello my dear God
It must be him but it's not him
And then I die
That's when I die

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Class


It’s not a takeaway when we do it, say middle class people
The middle classes have confirmed that they do not eat takeaways, even when buying food at an establishment and removing it to consume elsewhere.

Responding to concerns that the increase in fast food shops is fuelling an obesity epidemic, middle class people have explained that the Thai, Korean and street food outlets near them are different because they are fancier.

Museum curator Helen Archer said: “The news about these awful diets is so sad. I’m just glad it’s something that I’m able to avoid.

“I’m super busy so I’m always on Deliveroo – usually Szechuan, pan-Indian, or Five Guys – but it’s not really comparable, because when it arrives I put it on plates.

“It’s a simple matter of making healthy choices. Why let your children go to Pizza Hut when Pizza Express is available, and their pizzas have Italian names?

“I suppose there are surface similarities, but it’s like saying our summer travels around Moorish Andalusia are like a package holiday in Spain. Not the same thing at all.”


Archer also confirmed she has banned unhealthy crisps and fizzy pop from her home in favour of vegetable chips and smoothies which contain the exact same amount of salt and sugar but incur considerably less judgement.
The Daily Mash

Of course.

Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Defects of spermatic humidity



New discoveries from a Medieval treatise The Trotula on the subject of infertility have been discovered:
“Defect of spermatic humidity”, or men with “excessively cold and dry testicles” could be the problem, and the Trotula included a test, reproduced by many later writers, to check whether the difficulty lay with the man or the woman. Both should urinate into separate pots of bran, which were then left for up to 10 days: the one in which the worms appeared indicated the infertile partner. If worms appeared in neither pot, neither was infertile and the couple could be helped by medicine.

Gilbert the Englishman, in his Compendium of Medicine complied in the the 1250s, considered “a defect in the operation of the generative members for the natural operation of the generative organs is lacking when the penis does not become erect or the seed is not emitted.” Three virtues were needed for the man’s organs to work properly, Gilbert explained: heat from the liver, spirit from the heart and moisture from the brain. “We have found others who have desire in the liver. These neither erect the penis nor emit seed.”
So now you know: don't eat liver, and watch out if you have a spirited heart, a wet brain or cold and dry testicles...

It could seriously affect your sex life!

The final word goes to Bernard of Gordon, who suggested an alarming remedy for a man with a short penis: “it should be beaten gently with rods, and plastered with pitch”.

Read the full article in The Guardian

Monday, 24 July 2017

Crooners, Turks and a swinging pirate



Today happens to be the 101st anniversary [I managed to completely miss his centenary!] of the birth of one Bob Eberly, Big Band crooner and dilettante performer of such romantic classics as Amapola, Green Eyes and Tangerine - mainly with the orchestras of the Dorsey Brothers, principally that of Jimmy Dorsey.

To ease our way out of bed and into work, here's his classic performance of the latter song (alongside the faboo Helen O'Connell):


However, while we're on the subject of Jimmy Dorsey, and it being a Tacky Music Monday and all...

...here's Jimmy and the boys incongruously dressed in cod-"Turkish" get-up [it's from an Abbot & Costello movie Lost In A Harem, apparently] playing a swing number about a pirate! Most odd.


If that doesn't wake you, nothing will!

Bob Eberly (24th July 1916 – 17th November 1981)

Sunday, 23 July 2017

Golden boy


Our new garden ornament





Congratulations to the ever-gorgeous Tom Daley on winning gold for Britain at the World Aquatics Championships!

[Any excuse, really for more "Tom shots".]

Saturday, 22 July 2017

Dench!



Who Do You Think You Are? Barbara Brownskirt - the debut solo appearance by our favourite "manifestation of bitterness, anger and lesbian cliché, railing against her lot through poetry" - was a marvellous evening out. But what of the question raised by the title itself?

Let's let the "poet laureate of Penge" do the introductions...
I am poet-in-residence at the 197 bus stop on Croydon Road, Penge, which is the epicentre between Peckham and Croydon. I have written 21 volumes of poetry mostly at and around the bus stop or on the bus. So far all the publishers have been ignoring my work, but not for long.

Every day is inspiring and thought-provoking in Penge, usually there's a row in the street outside the Conservative Club or some kind of casual racism down the Wetherspoons, but mostly it's just like any small hamlet of London, there's art being made and discount shopping taking place. Usually someone makes an installation piece outside the Travelodge from found objects which I like to look at when going home to my lodgings.


Is this art? Photo by Barbara Brownskirt.

People say Penge is on the up, but they've been saying this to my mother, Mrs Brownskirt, who was an unfulfilled actress cum lollipop lady, since the famous gold rush in the 1980s. We like it as it is: multi-lingual, multi-sexual, working class and real.

I have noticed people with money want to live here, but I'd rather they just stay up the hill in Crystal Palace, because if they move here where will all us poets of the people go next?

Vive la poetry!
The indefatigable Barbara is, of course, the comic creation of the multi-talented Ms Karen McLeod, former air stewardess, former female drag queen(!), stand-up comedienne, author and Polari stalwart. Through her be-cagouled, uptight, Judi Dench-obsessed eyes, however, a whole new world of pithy (and extremely funny) angst is channelled, to perfect effect, complete with her "Womb Words" and in her "safe spaces".

The audience at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern was (as were Paul, John-John, Madam Arcati and I) in stitches, as she mercilessly sent-up po-faced feminists and talentless "performance poets" alike. Many of her familiar (unpublished) poems were present and correct, including Fabergé Eggs (Between Your Legs), The Publishers Are All Bent (But Not In A Good Way) and her excoriation of "her ex Susan" Cruelty-Free Shoes, plus [after a slideshow paean to her icon] the half-chanted Judi ["from volume 3, Furry Purses"]:

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!
10 hours I stood there
You walked past me (on the red carpet)
I was on the pavement not red but grey
I watched you go by with yet another sigh

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!
Your smile and crinkly twinkly eyes
Your little hairstyle, high on your head
Sexy Grandma
To me you are wife material

Denchy Denchy Denchy Denchy Denchy Jud-ie
How you make me want to clenchy
And I would like to travel my hand
Over your wobbly belly
To cup the young Denchy, Thirsty Drenchy
A cup full of Dench quenched. Time all spent.

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!


Here she is at Polari back in 2013 [with at least one familiar face in the audience...]:


This was a superb show - and it seems that from Penge the world is now Barbara Brownskirt's oyster...

Friday, 21 July 2017

Is it Sex? Or is it Love?



It's been a loooonnnng week!

Now we're here, with a party weekend in prospect - we're off to the Royal Vauxhall Tavern for an evening of low culture, courtesy of the lovely Polari regular Karen McLeod's comic creation "Barbara Brownskirt", and the weekend may be a bit stormy but (for London) is looks likely to stay dry and warm.

So what we need right now is something funky to get us in the mood. A few weeks ago, we celebrated the 40th anniversary of the Donna Summer/Giorgio Moroder behemoth I Feel Love. Today, we have a more recent similarly-titled creation by a certain DJ Pierre to start our shimmying off in an appropriate manner - complete with an amusing [likely more so than watching the actual film, or indeed any film with Will Ferrell in it] clip from A Night At The Roxbury...

Thank Disco It's Friday!


Have a good weekend, dear reader.

Thursday, 20 July 2017

Meanwhile, in Michigan...



From the BBC:
A woman has been found guilty of shooting her husband five times in a Michigan murder case apparently witnessed by a parrot.

Glenna Duram shot her husband, Martin, in front of the couple's pet in 2015, before turning the gun on herself in a failed suicide attempt.

The parrot later repeated the words "Don't shoot!" in the victim's voice, according to Mr Duram's ex-wife.

The parrot, an African Grey named Bud, was not used in the court proceedings.
Not revealed in the article is when Bud will get his own television show as the world's first psittacine detective.

"Hercule Parrot", perhaps?

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

The man who pixelates the breasts



After revelations by the BBC about how much its "top" presenters earn, including Chris Evans (pay bracket: £2,200,000 - £2,249,999 - though what the hell he does to justify that is questionable!), Gary Lineker (£1,750,000 - £1,799,999), Graham Norton (£850,000 - £899,999), Jeremy Vine (£700,000 - £749,999), John Humphrys (£600,000 - £649,000), Steve Wright (£500,000 - £549,999) and Fiona Bruce (£350,000 - £399,999), this:
Channel Five has revealed the salaries of the woman who chooses the programmes and the man who pixelates the breasts.

The broadcaster said it was revealing the salaries of both its staff members because it wanted to demonstrate transparency and prove that the BBC is a total waste of time and money.

Programme chooser Emma Bradshaw, who is on £53,000 a year, said: “Half the greedy bastards at the BBC are on more than the prime minister of the UK. I get paid slightly more than the prime minister of one of the countries where the documentaries about stag parties are filmed.

“And more people want to watch shows about stuff getting repossessed than yet another costume drama about a bunch of ponces.”


Breast pixelater Wayne Hayes, who is on £39,000 a year, added: “I’m doing the job of 10 men. We like to show as many breasts as possible during the day, but because of the ‘rules’ I have to make them a bit blurry. It’s an awful lot of work.

“We used to have a guy who pixelated fannies, but now if a programme’s got fannies we just wait until after five o’clock to show it.”
The Daily Mash

Of course.

Tuesday, 18 July 2017

Gilding the Lily



“To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.”

- William Shakespeare, King John

Oh, the Lilies here at Dolores Delargo Towers (in pots, just outside the back door) have been such a joy of late...

I think these majestic purveyors of the most heavenly scent deserve a beautiful piece of music to accompany them.

How fitting that today would have been the 90th birthday of the great conductor Kurt Masur - and here he is conducting a sublime piece from Antonin Dvořák to soothe our troubled minds:


Kurt Masur (18th July 1927 – 19th December 2015)

Monday, 17 July 2017

Feel like running and dancing for joy



It's another Monday - and the weather, as is its wont, is the best we have had for a few days. Just in time to sit behind acres of glass under strip lighting in the office. Groan...

...but we do have a centenary to celebrate!

On this Tacky Music Monday, let's wallow in the "zany" talents of the wonderful Miss Phyllis Diller, and take our minds off things. She's Feeling Pretty:


Loved her.

Phyllis Ada Driver (17th July 1917 – 20th August 2012)

Sunday, 16 July 2017

Who's that Girl?



"I've reversed the polarity of the Neutron flow." - Third Doctor

So...

...the new Doctor Who is a woman!!

Controversial decision, some might say - but nevertheless, welcome to the TARDIS, Ms Jodie Whittaker...


The announcement on the BBC

Saturday, 15 July 2017

Daylight robbery and Go-Go girls



Oh dear. Corporate greed abounds again.

Yesterday, Madam Arcati discovered that every photo he had ever posted to his rather lovely blog diary of our gardens had been replaced by a threatening graphic by our chosen host site for photo albums, Photobucket. It seems that, without any warning at all, from now on users cannot link from that site to Blogger or anywhere else - until or unless one pays them the princely sum of $399 (over £300) per year!!!!!

Needless to say, we will never fork out that kind of money - ransom threats or no ransom threats - just to see our own photos on a blog. So now I have an unenviable task ahead - to "repair" six years' worth of The Madam's blogs by painstakingly replacing Photobucket links with directly uploaded photos (thankfully Blogger lets users do that for free - at the moment). Thank heavens he's not such a prolific blogger as I.

Bigger, yet, however, is the task I have to do here - to go back over TEN YEARS of my own blogs (both here and over at the Museum of Camp - there are thousands!) and check to which ones I have embedded photos from our albums, then replace them. Then close my Photobucket account for good, and tell them where they can shove their blackmail.

I foresee much cursing and drinking. ["No change there", I hear you cry!]

To calm the jangling nerves somewhat, here's an old fave and a "Go-Go" classic from The Eliminators:


Keep shimmying!

Friday, 14 July 2017

How do I look?



As we hurtle (well, crawl slowly) towards another weekend - with the afterglow of Saturday's Gay Pride [our photos are still popping up all over the interwebs], and the good news that I got the job for which I was interviewed last week to lighten the mood even more - let us pop over the water (virtually; unfortunately) to join our leetle French chums, whose own party is in full swing for their Quatorze Juillet celebrations.

And with house fave Dimitri From Paris to lead the way, it'll be one helluva party!


Merci Disco il ç'est Vendredi! [Thank Disco it's Friday!]

Thursday, 13 July 2017

Tools



Just because it happens to be Benny Benassi's birthday - here's an old fave, for your delectation...


Wobble it!

Marco "Benny" Benassi (born 13th July 1967)

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

Soon found out had a heart of (Philip) Glass



Oh, my dears.

Thanks to our lovely reader Julius Maloney, I was pointed in the direction of this work of genius - a most unexpected "mash-up" of two of our favourites here at Dolores Delargo Towers, Blondie's eternal Heart of Glass and Philip Glass's sublime Violin Concerto II:


Simply divine...

[And before you ask, no, I have never watched The Handmaid's Tale, in which this was featured.]