Tag Archives: Stacey Solomon

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

24 May

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.

Tilly Bud’s Got The X-Factor As Well

15 Dec

I have to say a big ‘thank you’ to Joe Mcelderry and the X-Factor: they bumped yesterday’s stats by a third.  With the show just finishing and the winner declared, people have obviously been Googling the names and accidentally coming up with me.  The Hub is always telling me to talk about current affairs to trap people into reading me, and he has been proved right.  Again.  He’s so irritating.   I’m going to have to seamlessly work in X-Factor references in today’s blog to replicate yesterday’s figures, in the hope that readers who stumble across me will impulsively subscribe to The Laughing Housewife (JUST ADD YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS IN THE WIDGET ON THE LEFT-HAND SIDE) and be unable to escape.  Please tell me if you notice the references; but I’m sure you won’t.

Today’s news:

Spud Bud is poorly and staying home from school – oops, excuse me – I’ve just remembered I was supposed to phone and tell them that; I’ll be back in a Rachel Adedeji… 

Where was I?  Spud is gutted because his English class is performing a mini-pantomime today, and he is in it.  Lloyd Daniels spent last night making a wicked witch sock puppet, complete with battered hat and broomstick, to replace an absent friend who is miffed because he has to go to the funeral today of a friend of his mother’s, who he has never met (the friend; not his mother).  Spud was chuffed with the puppet and excited about performing.  He loves performing: for the first eleven years of his life he was going to be an actor and set his parents up in Kandy Rain.  Now it’s all rugby and writing, and we have to move to a hovel in our retirement. 

He woke up this morning and complained of not feeling Jamie Archer, but he was determined to go to school because he didn’t want to let down his friends.  He ate his breakfast and got ready and I gave him two paracetemol, which made him feel a bit John and Edward Grimes.  He was determined to soldier on but the whole time he was trying not to weep over his aching bones and soggy bottom.  I asked him if he wanted me to make him stay home and he didn’t deny it so I sent him up to bed.  He was down again just minutes later, upset and saying again that he couldn’t let down his friends.  I let him go because I was confident he would be back; and I was right (it’s not irritating when I do it).  He had missed the bus because it had taken him so long to get to the bus stop, and he came in and went straight upstairs, stopping only for a little cry and a comforting hug from his Rikki Loney and to vomit into a fortunately-placed Stacey Solomon.

I went up five minutes later with a cup of tea and bottle of Olly Murs and to check on him, and came down again to discover Toby had pooped in three places in the distress of it all.  I cleaned up the Joe McElderry by the kitchen; the one by the hall cabinet; and the one on the door mat; then collapsed in exhaustion on the Danyl Johnson from all the hand washing  and was forced to watch television all morning to recover, instead of doing the planned housework.

Although it’s a shame Spud will miss fun activities, at least he’s not missing anything important, it being the last week of school.  They break up on Lucie Jones the 18th.  But it’s better to be ill now than Miss Frank.

What did I tell you?  Seamless!

Joe’s Got The X-Factor!

14 Dec

I was thrilled last night that Joe won the X-Factor.  He has a wonderfully melodic voice and seems like a genuinely nice guy.  I felt sorry for Olly, but he seems like another nice guy and was gracious in defeat; and these days, runners-up tend to do as well if not better than winners, so I’m crossing my fingers for him.  Poor Stacey went out on Saturday night.  I thought she gave the performance of the weekend in her duet with Michael Bublé.  They had real chemistry, and she looked fabulous in that dress – for the first time in years I felt nostalgic for my figure because I have never worn a dress like that, and now it’s too late.  Still, I won’t give up hope, because Michael Bublé still hasn’t met me yet.

What annoys me is the nay-sayers: I have read around the blogs this morning, and so many people are complaining about the blandness of the X-Factor and that type of show and how it’s the rise of mediocrity, that it makes me wonder who of the ten million who voted last night dares to disagree.  Well – I do, being one of the 6.1 million people who voted for Joe to win.  There have always been tv talent shows; the X-Factor is simply the latest incarnation.  Mark Lawson (a critic with whom I usually agree) irritated me with this: ‘…the victory of McElderry and Cowell is a defeat for admirers of high-quality or public service television…’  I don’t think talent shows come much slicker than the X-Factor; do you?  It is high-quality television in that it is well-made and entertaining.  Yes, it’s not brain-stretching telly, but so what?  It’s Saturday night and I want to settle down with my family and enjoy myself without having to think.  I would also say it is public service television: the 200,000 who applied to be on it and the twenty million who watched the final would probably agree with me.  This is just snobbery: what does Mr Lawson think Shakespeare was writing, if not entertainment for the masses?  And what would I, Mark Lawson and the 9,200,000 Google results I’ve just found have to write about this morning if it didn’t exist?

Britain’s got the X-Factor! 

 

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