An Undignified Manor

According to the Daily Mail, the model Caprice had a night out in London on Wednesday, and when getting into a car on her way home she briefly exposed her stocking tops and suspenders to the waiting paparazzi.

Now, I read the interwebs and I know that celebrities often 'accidentally' show their underwear (or lack of) to the waiting world, especially when climbing in and out of cars. I assume it's some kind of publicity thing.

You know, "Hey, ChelseeaChevrolaye, your public profile has dipped six points. We need to get your gusset into The Sun and fast!"

However, Caprice is not noted for doing this kind of thing, so I will give her a pass on this one and say it was a brief moment of inelegance. The Daily Mail has this to say:

Caprice's fishnet stockings looked perfect before she flashed the undergarments as she sat down in an undignified manor.

At a guess, an undignified manor is where the gangs wear mis-matched clothing and frequently fall over into puddles of muddy water while belching loudly and wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands. Yes, spelling still matters. At any rate, it gives me the opportunity to post what may well be the nicest illustration on this blog for many a month.

Here you go. Click and it gets bigger (fnarr).



Credit: Smartpictures.co.uk

Jimmy $avi£e, top man

I am very sorry, although not surprised, to hear that Jimmy Savile has died. To be honest, he has looked like an elderly groover for so long that, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you he died long ago.

Now then now then.

I was brought up in the same part of Leeds that Jimmy lived in, and my Mum lived there until she passed away a few years ago, so I have a strong connection with the area. And yet I couldn't tell you where he lived - his private life was kept very quiet. We knew he lived with his Mum, posibly in a caravan and possibly a mansion, and favoured tight trousers and a lot of jewellery, so as kids we all assumed he was gay. Not that it made any difference, although I think we shall see a lot of skirting-round of the issue in the obits. But however cheesy his public persona was, everyone knew that he was also a tireless and committed fund-raiser for charities - proper ones - and put in a great deal of his own time as a volunteer hospital porter.

Guys and gals.

My first paid job was as a hospital porter, and that is how I came to hear of his work. I was working at St James's, whereas Savile volunteered at Leeds General Infirmary. But there was a fair amount of cross-pollination between the two, and several times I was pushing an elderly patient down the corridor only to have to swerve violently to avoid a silver-haired tornado pushing a wheelchair at high speed in the opposite direction, exchanging banter with the patient and nurses and anyone else within earshot.

As it 'appens.

One thing I can tell you from that experience is that, although he lent his considerable fame to supporting various causes, his actual physical work helping hospital patients was entirely genuine. He put the hours in, he talked to ther terminally-ill and the terminally-confused, the young and the very old, the patient and the relative, the doctor and the nurse. His energy was phenomenal, and his commitment was total. No-one who worked there and saw him in operation was cynical about a 'celebrity' doing a bit of 'good work' - his contribution was respected by the people who did the same work, day in and day out. That says a lot.

Goodness gracious.

I was back home one weekend helping my Dad plan for Mum's 70th birthday. We had decided to get her a special cake with a picture of the arch at Guisborough Priory which featured in all their wedding photographs, painted into the icing. A local cake shop did the work, and one Saturday morning we went to collect it. We were in the middle of paying when the shop door burst open, and a man and woman rushed in - Jimmy Savile and a very pretty, leggy blonde dressed in not very much. "Now then now then," he said. "Whose 70th birthday is it?" We said it was my Mum, and he asked, no, ordered the girl to pop down the road and get a card. When she returned, he asked my Mum's name and then wrote a message in the card and signed it. I can't remember the message (something like 'who's the birthday girl then?') but the signature was unmistakeable, with the dollar sign for the 'S' and a pound sign for the 'L' in 'Savile'. Before we could say thank you, he was off, with the girl trying to stay in his slipstream.

*Strange ululating stunt with the vocal cords*

He was weird, he was a bit cheesy, and his hairstyles were a crime. But he also gave us 'Top Of The Pops' for good or ill, and he made the idea of celebrity charity work more than just writing a few cheques and opening garden parties. Those who worked alongside him respected him, and that is all you need to know. Every time I see that photograph of the People's Princess's smokey eyes peeping out soulfully over the theatre mask, I think of Jimmy Savile, sleeves rolled up and puffing away at a large cigar, having a natter with an old biddy on the Geri ward.

That wouldn't be allowed nowadays.

How's about that, then?

The People's Tony

Iain Martin (Wall Street Journal blog) nails it on Tony Blair's memoirs:

But what about the book’s unintentionally hilarious title? “The Journey.” It’s very “X-Factor” / CelebrityDanceathon / GetMeOutofHere.

“Simon, Cheryl, Louis, Danni, I’ve been on an incredible journey. Guys, I’ve loved being on the show. You’ve been amazing.” Repeated references to a journey is now standard on celebrity and reality television. It began, I think, as a term used by people who had survived dreadful illness or overcome obstacles. But it has spread well beyond television and can apply to just about anything in contemporary life. There are now people in Britain who can’t go out to the shops to buy a loaf of bread and 20 B&H without saying on their return that it’s been an amazing journey.

How very, very Blair, that he should choose a title that is a bit New Agey with connotations of both therapy and “X-factor”-style celebrity.

There's more:

Incidentally, on the subject of people emoting on demand about their journey, imagine what World War II would have been like if it had been conducted in the post-modern television age? Roll footage of troops returning by boat from the evacuation of Dunkirk. They are all crying and hugging each other. Interviewer, Fern Britton, asks: “Guys, how do you feel.” Tommy Atkins: “Well, Fern, bit emotional. It’s been an amazin’ journey but in the end it was just all too much for us. But y’know, we’ve learnt big lessons along the way. Guys, you have to hold on to your dreams. If you want somefing badly enough you can do anyfing you want.” Fern Britton: “Apart from preventing the Wehrmacht sweeping through the low countries and deep into France?” Tommy: “Yeah, true. But it’s been an amazin’ journey.”

Spot on. The man is an arse.