Big Brother Is Watching You…Eat

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I download a lot of free books from BookBub.  I strongly recommend it: many – but not all – of the books are self-published and if I’m honest, there’s a lot of dross; but I have discovered some real gems, including the Talented Saga by Sophie Davis, which I absolutely loved.  The first book was free but I bought the next three because I enjoyed it so much.  The whole collection cost me less than £6.50 and I will definitely re-read them; and more than once.

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13466202-talented

Last night I started reading another free download, Gone by Christine Kersey. It’s a YA novel about a teenage girl who runs away from home on a whim; realises her mistake; struggles to get back; and finds herself in a parallel universe, where it is illegal to be fat.  The government sends anyone over the weight limit to F.A.T. camp, forcing them to sell their house to pay for their mandatory treatment.

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It’s an okay book but I thought the premise was a little preposterous.  And then I read Sky News this morning: it appears that fat is now a government issue.  The current incumbents, if re-elected in May, propose to strip benefits from anyone deemed obese who refuses to go on a diet.  

You couldn’t make it up.

Or you could; but the real thing is much more frightening.

Please, take a read of the whole Sky News story and tell me what you think.

I Heart Johnny Deppinger

 

I’ve always liked Johnny Depp as an actor but I never got the whole Johnny-Depp-is-sexy-gorgeous thing until now, despite knowing a vicar who goes weak at the knees at the mere mention of his name.  I’ve just watched Public Enemies and I have to say, Johnny Depp as John Dillinger is a sexy-gorgeous thing.  I had a revelation like Winston Smith’s in 1984 when he suddenly realised he loved Big Brother.   I had the same revelation when watching Daniel Day Lewis – who is far too lanky for my liking normally – in The Last of the Mohicans.  I wonder if it’s a coincidence that both films are directed by Michael Mann.   Does anyone know what he looks like?

Don’t Read This If You Recorded The Last Episode Of ‘Over the Rainbow’ And You Haven’t Watched It Yet

This weekend was all about the tv: first we had the last-ever episode of Ashes to Ashes, a show which never lived up to its predecessor, the joint-first-best programme ever made (as decided by me in my poll of me): Life on Mars (its co-winner being The West Wing) – and I mean the original Brit version, not the Harvey Keitel abomination.  All the more surprising, then, that it was one of the most satisfying conclusions to any tv series I have ever watched.  

Over the Rainbow ended with an okay winner who was the only one of the eleven finalists to hit a bum note when singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow at the end of a show – watch her face when she realises her last note is flat:

I liked Danielle but I’m still sulking because Steph wasn’t in the final.

Britain’s Got Talent threw up this gem:

Thinking about reality tv and the transience of fame – and seeing Stacey Solomon hiding in a corner of Michael Bublé’s Audience With – reminded me of this poem I wrote last year:

Stars In Their Eyes 

After the door shuts,
the footsteps die:
no wife to swap;
no champagne pop;
adulation stops:
you’re a flop. 
Paparazzi don’t pap;
you fall through the gaps in the schedule. 
X-Factor marks the spot,
vacant for the next big thing, brother.
It won’t be you:
don’t bother. 
Fame – long wait;
short sell-by date
(fifteen minutes, tops). 
Don’t open that door.
Walk away; don’t try. 
You’re not a celebrity,
get out of there. 
Notoriety:
the great TV lie.

Talking of Michael  Bublé (as if I ever needed an excuse), here he is being fabulous on ITV last night:

Of course, the big tv event of the weekend was the last-ever episode of Lost being simulcast around the world; it was on at five this morning in the UK.  I watched the very first episode and it lost me at the sunbathing plane crash victim, so if you want an informed opinion, I’ll have to tell you to get lost.

Big Day

Big.  That’s the theme for National Blog Posting Month.  In April, like NaPoWriMo, and to which I have also signed up.  Problem is, I have no big announcements and all I can think of is Tom Hanks in the movie Big.  And that’s all I have to say about that.  I thought I would for once avoid the obvious self-deprecating fat jokes so I Googled ‘Big’ to see what came up.

I should have realised that there would be more than one movie with the word ‘big’ in the title: The Big Lebowski and The Big Chill, for starters: the former is famous for having a dude Jeff Bridges and the latter for having a dead Kevin Costner, preternaturally foreshadowing his career after Waterworld (which I rather liked, incidentally).  He played the corpse in TBC and his scenes ended up on the cutting floor. 

Google also reminded me that there is Big Ben (a time machine), Big Brother (a time waster) and The Big Issue (time to do your bit for homeless people).   Did you know that Big Ben is actually the name of the bell and not the tower?  According to Wikipedia, ‘Big Ben is the largest four-faced chiming clock and the third-tallest free-standing clock tower in the world.’  Hmm.  This post is so dull it’s practically a horology story.

But I was surprised by the number of companies using the initials B.I.G.  – two.  I thought there’d be loads more.  I did like the home page of the Bjarke Ingels Group.  Check it out for yourself and try not to snigger if you’re English and reading this: http://www.big.dk/

I also liked the name of a little tourist attraction in Devon: http://www.thebigsheep.co.uk/  The blurb invites us to ‘Take yourself on a tour of our website and you will find out how our unique North Devon attraction is devoted to sheep.’  You’ve got to love a place devoted to sweaters and Sunday dinner and offering ‘9 live sheepy shows every day.’

Going off topic now, it is time for Day 2 of NaPoWriMo, but before that, I have hidden the word ‘BIG’ twice in the above paragraphs; see if you can find them.  What else do you have to do?  All of the shops are shut and there’s nothing on the telly. 

I’m afraid I’m going to be a day behind as far as the writing prompts are concerned; I hope you don’t mind.  Yesterday’s prompt was to take five song titles and work them into a poem.  I will give you the titles after the poem; see if you can spot them.

 

Frances Farmer Wanted A Life

 

Picture this:

her mama tried. 

Her mama tried;

her mama tried. 

Her mama failed. 

.

She was

just another nervous

wreck on a bleak life ride,

always moments away

from crazy jail.

. 

Poor Frances. 

They called it ‘madness’ –

those who, safe in their

sanity, electrocuted her

soul; they called her mad.

.

.

The songs are:

Picture This – Blondie (or Wet Wet Wet)

Mama Tried – Merle Haggard (my Dad was a massive country & western fan)

Just Another Nervous Wreck – Supertramp

Moments Away – Mango Groove

Madness  –  Madness

.

The Blogging Business

The blogging business is a curious one, I have learned: I write scurrilously about my family and they applaud me when my stats rise – Four people today read the horrible things you wrote about us; hooray!  Well done, Mum.  I gossip about their and my doings and hope strangers from across the world will read and comment on it.  In effect, I am inviting Big Brother into my home.  Yes, me, who is the first to scorn that sad bunch of desperate freaks and wannabes appearing each year on our screens: 

They are themselves for public entertainment:

 as am I.

They hope to do something funny or interesting to endear them to the public:

 as do I.

They deliberately make fools of themselves:

I’m in the clear on this one: making a fool of myself comes so naturally, I don’t have to try.

They expose their innermost desires in the full glare of publicity:

well, you know I have pretensions of being a poet.  Oh, and I want my kids to love me; but I’m somewhat lacking in the publicity department at the mo’.

They hope to earn lots of dosh from their exposure:

 sadly for me, based on my current following, I think I owe WordPress money.

They don’t care what people think of them:

this one is most true of me < makes rude gestures to computer screen>   No, just kidding!  I wasn’t.  PLEASE come back, dear reader.  You’re my only friend.

I am afraid that, like Winston Smith, it will be said of me, She loved Big Brother. 

 There is no greater shame.