Double entendre

Courtesy of Ms Tots, here are 12 of the finest (unintentional) Double-entendres ever aired on British TV and radio.

1. Pat Glenn, weightlifting commentator - "And this is Gregoriava from Bulgaria. I saw her snatch this morning and it was amazing!"
2. New Zealand Rugby Commentator - "Andrew Mehrtens loves it when Daryl Gibson comes inside of him."
3. Ted Walsh - Horse Racing Commentator - "This is really a lovely horse. I once rode her mother."
4. Harry Carpenter at the Oxford-Cambridge boat race 1977 - "Ah, isn't that nice. The wife of the Cambridge President is kissing the Cox of the Oxford crew."
5. US PGA Commentator - "One of the reasons Arnie (Arnold Palmer) is playing so well is that, before each tee shot, his wife takes out his balls and kisses them ..... Oh my god!! What have I just said??"
6. Carenza Lewis about finding food in the Middle Ages on 'Time Team Live' said: "You'd eat beaver if you could get it."
7. A female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman and asked, "So Bob, where's that eight inches you promised me last night?" Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too, because they were laughing so hard!
8. Steve Ryder covering the US Masters: "Ballesteros felt much better today after a 69 yesterday."
9. Clair Frisby talking about a jumbo hot dog on Look North said: "There's nothing like a big hot sausage inside you on a cold night like this."
10. Mike Hallett discussing missed snooker shots on Sky Sports: "Stephen Hendry jumps on Steve Davis's misses every chance he gets."
11. Michael Buerk on watching Phillipa Forrester cuddle up to a male astronomer for warmth during BBC1's UK eclipse coverage remarked: "They seem cold out there, they're rubbing each other and he's only come in his shorts."
12. Ken Brown commentating on golfer Nick Faldo and his caddie Fanny Sunneson lining-up shots at the Scottish Open: "Some weeks Nick likes to use Fanny, other weeks he prefers to do it by himself."

Cumberland Fudge

A.: So. Cumberland Lodge is a retreat owned by the Queen of England, where her ancestors came to shag their stable boys and occasional female mistress (stable girl). Occasionally sheep too.There are over 1,000 dears allegedly, frolicking amongst the trees, coresponding to the amount of local girls also frolicking amongst the trees.

This is where I have been condemned to spend the weekend with a buch of fellow travellers. The place oozes artisto-decadence, which should make me feel at home, but somehow it doesn't. On a brighter note, there are several fit boys from other courses (actually one) so I am happy.

The evening wa spent listening to a man who had 4 passports and no idea what he was talking about. Apparently he was supposed to enlighten us about multicuturalism. He only managed to irritated me and send about 80% of the public to sleep. Thankfully, the bar was well stocked with cheap Bulgarian wine so we managed to drown our pain.

J.: so, unlike alberto, i had only one major problem with the speaker which was that he didn't answer my question; kevin kept whispering his criticisms in my ear. it made me nervous to ask a question, but yet i asked the longest question that ever existed because that's how i roll. if i had my earphones on an was listening to REO speedwagon, it would have been perfect. as it is, REO speedwagon is playing a concert that costs like 40 pounds and those guys, honestly, suck. so - i had kevin on one side and alberto on the other - he was trying to fall asleep but was strangely compelled by out israeli/palestinian speaker. it was imperative that we hit the bar as soon as possible; which we did in fine style.

so it is that we find ourselves at 2am about to embark on a secret mission to some distant lake at the bottom of the moor, a few bottles deep in bulgarian wine that alberto refuses to drink. after my stellar snooker victory over emily, i feel very energized for the hike; it will involve jumping several fences and, potentially, swimming. i am working on what can only be described as a diabolical plan to encourage a swimming mission. i'll keep the rsest of the world, which is obviously interested, in the rest of our exploits to this end. catherine - your black nails have nothing on my irresitable argument FOR feminism.


E.: so.....i thought the lecture was fine because i was inspired by someone that would speak their mind about something that they love. An academic that is honest is a refreshing situation. Alberto is not very good at snooker, but he has been a pleasure to be around. Tomorrow: when I am more on it I will slate these boys x

We, the zoo

After seeing this, I felt the irresistible urge to scratch all over my body.

tic... toc... tic... toc...

I have now spent 153 consecutive hours writing this piece 'o' crap. In what I fathom being a Frap/Lady V-inspired writing strategy, I squirted out some 7000 random words which had to be then reduced to 4000. At 5400 I lost my patience with hunting down innocent adjectives and hacked off the entire first chapter. Who cares what the Washington Consensus is anyway. I am now down to 4200 and still have to compile the entire bibliography. Deadline tomorrow. Clock is ticking. Eyelid is flapping. Lip is twitching.

The Lives of Others

I have just returned from seeing The Lives of Others with my dear friend Le Duc. What a beautiful, beautiful film. There's no other way to descibe it. Lyrical, profound, moving. Every image was shot with refined attention, evey detail masterfully taken care of. Ulrich Mühe's central performance as a Stasi agent, whose faith in the system begins to crumble beneath the weight of the regime's schemings, is absolutely flawless.


For the whole duration of the film, I was plunged in the suffocating greyness of East Germany, 1984. As the images unfolded, childhood memories about life on the other side of the Curtain kept coming back to me. I left the theatre with that sense of elacted sadness that follows an emotional experience. Don't miss it.

You remember my name

Life

From up there, it's just a small ball...
Why so much fuss?

If only we could keep this sense of perspective all the time... just a small, insignificant ball floating in an indifferent Universe...

V for...

This has long been a favourite subject of totty debate - what the V in Lady V might stand for - so it was only natural that, in the loneliness of my room, pondering about the meaning of life and the reason why I left Tuscany after all, I should rent V for Vendetta and devour together with a pizza and a beer.

Verdict?

It's watchable. Natalie Portman is as hot as a steaming geyser...


Stephen Fry's cameo, on the other hand, is frankly ridiculous. In sum, it tries to be too actual and misses the point of its genre: rather than resembling its original cartoon, it looks more like a History Channel documentary set in a bleak near future.

300 on the other hand...

'Tis a Pity She's a Whore...

Ravishing and beautiful Charlotte Rampling.
Breathtakingly handsome Fabio Testi and Olivier Tobias.
And two unknown but mesmerizing secondary actors for this glorious Renaissance romp set in a foggy Northern Italy that recalls Ferrara and its diamond-shaped noble palaces.

They just don't make them like this any more...

Back (sigh) in London

More red wine
More blossoming fields
More Turdette
More films
More G&Ts
More wood-cutting
More sausage
More lemons
More friends

Please...!

YES! YES! YES!

7.00 - Alarm clock goes off.
7.02 - Lady V is wooed out of bed with soft 'totty' whispers. She groans. I get into the shower.
7.17 - I slip out of the shower, fully cleansed and ready to conquer
7.23 - Lady V stumbles down the stairs, hangover and moaning about her life.
7.24 - Lady V gets a good talking to.
7.25 - Lady V and myself, fully reconciled, set off towards PDF & M's house.
7.38 - We arrive at PDF & M's house and discover M's been puking all night due - allegedly - to evil shrimp in her dinner. Slight panic at the idea of 2 crucial pairs of hands now unavailable, but we recover soon remembering we have the master of double-fisting with us, so surely he must be good at double-typing...
7.47 - Coffee. Mmmmmm...
8.01 - Lady V, PDF and I set off towards G's office.
8.15 - First wake-up call for Bogart, who is incapable of emitting any sound except for a sinister gurgle.
8.23 - We arrive at G's office.
8.37 - We are now fully positioned, 1 laptop and 1 phone each, ready to fight.
8.42 - We start checking the Glastonbury Festivals' website, which has already crashed. Slight panic, easily kept under control.
8.45 - Second wake-up call for Bogart, who is now able to curse back. Good sign.
8.55 - We are now in full-swing clicking mode, trying to get passed the www.seetickets.com frontpage, which won't even load. Phone in the other hand redialling the ticket office number.
9.10 - We are still quite chirpy, but no luck.
9.32 - Still quite chirpy, but still no luck. Beginning to hate the BT woman's voice telling us she won't charge us for the phone call.
9.46 - Bogart calls to inform that she's read blogs that say people have got hold of tickets. Slight panic, which does not however demoralise the troops, but actually makes them focus better on the task.
10.12 - Not much chirpyness left. In fact, panic is now spreading rapidly. I start checking random sites for possible clues about how to get passed the www.seetickets.com page, which still refuses to load. I get to the Glastonburyfestivals MySpace profile, and read some exchanges between people who have managed to buy the tickets. One of them reveals the crucial secure connection web-address, which allows us to move bypass the Seetickets frontpage and move onto the second tier.
10.28 - After relentlessly refreshing the webpage, I eventually crack it exactly at the same time as Bogart.
10.34 - 8 tickets + 1 car park pass have been purchased. A further one is snapped up by M, who has heroically dragged herself out of bed and to the sofa. By 10.44 all of us have tickets to Glastonbury.

The joy is immense. The expectation overwhelming.

GLASTONBURY 2007!!!! WE'RE COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!