Well, well, so Inspector Knacker of the Yard finally paid a visit to No 10 for "a chat" lasting two hours with Tony Blair over the "cash for honours" scandal.
And what a day to choose. Lord Stephens presented his report into the death of Diana, Princess of Wales. Meanwhile, in Suffolk police are investigating the murders of five prostitutes, found naked apart from their jewellery. If ever there was a day to bury bad news, this was it.
The PM's official spokesman denied that there was a link and some lickspittle Labour MP went on television to claim that "people cannot choose when they are interviewed by the police". Maybe "people" can't but the Prime Minister certainly can. Imagine the uproar if Knacker had turned up unannounced and Mr Blair was otherwise engaged. "Sorry, the PM can't see you today - he is off to Washington."
Mr Blair explained, "The particular issues concerned were not for honours given by me as a prime minister for public service. On the contrary, they were nominated by me as a party leader for party service. That's the basic distinction that lies at the heart of this."
Hang on a second. Many of the donors were not Labour supporters so there is no way that they would have been working Labour peers. Many had given money to the Tories. And why were the donations kept secret? Does Mr Blair really expect us to believe him?
No 10 is a formidable spinning machine. They knew exactly what was going on and how much news coverage could be expected.
Now they are saying that it is all over and the police won't be interviewing Mr Blair again. Hmm, maybe, maybe not.
Friday, 15 December 2006
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Festive Cheer 2
Well, that's 1 hour and 45 minutes of my life I won't get back.
Did I enjoy it? In a word no. Although I was told I was the best-dressed bloke there - by a bloke!
I finished work at one place at 9.10pm and got the Tube to Morgate and walked to the venue. TOOMOA (The object of my office affection) was there - looking very nice indeed in a silver dress. Then she left about 15 minutes after I arrived............aaagggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh
Did I enjoy it? In a word no. Although I was told I was the best-dressed bloke there - by a bloke!
I finished work at one place at 9.10pm and got the Tube to Morgate and walked to the venue. TOOMOA (The object of my office affection) was there - looking very nice indeed in a silver dress. Then she left about 15 minutes after I arrived............aaagggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh
Friday, 8 December 2006
Interviews and the aftermath
From time to time in the course of my job I get to interview celebrities. The question I am most often asked by non-media people when they learn about the interviews is "What is xxxxx like?" It's quite often a difficult question to answer because the celeb wants positive coverage so is unlikely to behave like an idiot knowing full well that their bad behavior will get known either via the published feature or through swapping war stories with other hacks.
One celebrity I interviewed several years ago was a then famous singer. We chatted for some time before her PR asked if I had any more questions because the NME was waiting outside. I said that I only had one more. The singer then suggested that she do the next interview, I wait outside and come back afterwards.
I demurred, saying that I only had one more. Question duly asked, I thanked her and began packing away my tape recorder and notes. She again asked if I needed to come back after the NME. Again I said no and asked if she enjoyed doing interviews or whether she saw them as a necessary evil.
"I enjoyed this one. It's probably the best one I ever did."
Again, alarm bells did not ring. I bade her farewell and walked out onto Baker Street. The interview was published in a magazine, the Daily Mirror used it as a lead in their gossip column and I had another cut for the book.
Fast forward some years and said singer gives several interviews in which she says she had a sex addiction and had to have sex every day. This addiction was at its height during the time of my interview with her.
Was her constant suggestion that I come back later a guarded invitation for other more carnal and less vocal probing? I like to think so...
Who was this sexy singer?
My lips are sealed. A gentleman never not kisses and tells.
One celebrity I interviewed several years ago was a then famous singer. We chatted for some time before her PR asked if I had any more questions because the NME was waiting outside. I said that I only had one more. The singer then suggested that she do the next interview, I wait outside and come back afterwards.
I demurred, saying that I only had one more. Question duly asked, I thanked her and began packing away my tape recorder and notes. She again asked if I needed to come back after the NME. Again I said no and asked if she enjoyed doing interviews or whether she saw them as a necessary evil.
"I enjoyed this one. It's probably the best one I ever did."
Again, alarm bells did not ring. I bade her farewell and walked out onto Baker Street. The interview was published in a magazine, the Daily Mirror used it as a lead in their gossip column and I had another cut for the book.
Fast forward some years and said singer gives several interviews in which she says she had a sex addiction and had to have sex every day. This addiction was at its height during the time of my interview with her.
Was her constant suggestion that I come back later a guarded invitation for other more carnal and less vocal probing? I like to think so...
Who was this sexy singer?
My lips are sealed. A gentleman never not kisses and tells.
Festive cheer
Tonight's the night of the office Christmas party. Well, it's the night of the one office party I have been invited to - the other place I work is not having a bash so I will try to make the most of tonight.
The venue is a bar in Hoxton (or Old Street as most unpretentious people call it). The dress code is smart/casual but I thought "What the hell...I'll put on the brand new shirt, the expensive cufflinks, and the one bespoke suit I own." I look, as Jodie Marsh, would say "The nuts".
Will it impress KG? She is the current object of my office (well, in that office at least) affections, who I worship from afar ("She said, 'The farther the better!'" quipped Tony, one of my colleagues). My affection for her is well-known although I have never found an excuse to actually talk to her... perhaps tonight will be the night.
The venue is a bar in Hoxton (or Old Street as most unpretentious people call it). The dress code is smart/casual but I thought "What the hell...I'll put on the brand new shirt, the expensive cufflinks, and the one bespoke suit I own." I look, as Jodie Marsh, would say "The nuts".
Will it impress KG? She is the current object of my office (well, in that office at least) affections, who I worship from afar ("She said, 'The farther the better!'" quipped Tony, one of my colleagues). My affection for her is well-known although I have never found an excuse to actually talk to her... perhaps tonight will be the night.
Tuesday, 5 December 2006
Cheer up, love
Why does Victoria Beckham always look so miserable? She has a handsome, if not terribly bright nor faithful husband, two healthy sons and more money than she can shake a stick at.
Yet is she happy? It appears not.
Okay, her music career is in the toilet because she can't sing for toffee and, let's face it, she was never the strongest dancer in the Spice Girls.
She has just launched a fashion book but seems to ignore her own advice (or, since she didn't actually write the book, is it her advice?).
Admittedly, when she smiles she does look like a simpleton and if her nostrils continue to grow at the present alarming rate she will look like Kenneth Williams when she is about 50.
And she is far too skinny but, hey, think of all the money... and for God's sake,woman, look a bit more happy.
Yet is she happy? It appears not.
Okay, her music career is in the toilet because she can't sing for toffee and, let's face it, she was never the strongest dancer in the Spice Girls.
She has just launched a fashion book but seems to ignore her own advice (or, since she didn't actually write the book, is it her advice?).
Admittedly, when she smiles she does look like a simpleton and if her nostrils continue to grow at the present alarming rate she will look like Kenneth Williams when she is about 50.
And she is far too skinny but, hey, think of all the money... and for God's sake,woman, look a bit more happy.
Saturday, 2 December 2006
Labour - the Party of the People
Former BA boss Sir Rod Eddington has delivered his report on road pricing. His solution is for motorists to pay for driving on main routes at peak times. He believes that this could cut jams in half.
So the answer once again is to make the motorist pay. We already pay (well, most of us do) for insurance, MOT, road fund licence and the heaviest petrol duties in the civilised world. If you want to drive in central London between 7am and 6.30pm you have to fork out another eight quid. Pay up or don't drive. What alternative is there? Public transport, despite the millions pumped into it, is often dirty, unsafe and unreliable. Further, if you don't live near a bus stop or train station, it isn't much use to you. And thanks to the Beeching Report in the 1960s numerous train lines were shut.
The car liberated the working classes. It allowed movement of people. It allowed people to thrive and explore areas that their great-grandparents could only have dreamed about.
I drive to work most days and, yes, I do get caught up in a jam. It takes me approximately an hour to get to work. It also takes me approximately an hour to get to work via public transport. In my car, I am warm (or cold if I want to be). I don't have to sit next to someone with BO or who has a personal stereo blaring out or someone jabbering nonsense on their mobile. I can drive in silence or I can listen to my iPod or the radio. I know I am going to get caught in a jam and yet still I drive. Why? See sentences five onwards in this paragraph.
I drive because I want to. I already pay for the privilege.
If Sir Rod Eddington's plans are adopted, it won't stop the middle classes driving. It won't stop those with company cars. It will hit the working class and people for whom driving is not a luxury. It is, thanks to appalling public transport, a necessity.
Why does Labour keep piling on tax after tax after tax? It was founded to help poor people not to tax them into an early grave. The biggest joke is the Cabinet are all driven about by their chauffeurs in cars financed by the taxpayer. They will not be affected. The oafish Deputy Prime Minister, Two Jags, will tootle on his merry way whatever Sir Rod Eddington says.
Vote Labour!
So the answer once again is to make the motorist pay. We already pay (well, most of us do) for insurance, MOT, road fund licence and the heaviest petrol duties in the civilised world. If you want to drive in central London between 7am and 6.30pm you have to fork out another eight quid. Pay up or don't drive. What alternative is there? Public transport, despite the millions pumped into it, is often dirty, unsafe and unreliable. Further, if you don't live near a bus stop or train station, it isn't much use to you. And thanks to the Beeching Report in the 1960s numerous train lines were shut.
The car liberated the working classes. It allowed movement of people. It allowed people to thrive and explore areas that their great-grandparents could only have dreamed about.
I drive to work most days and, yes, I do get caught up in a jam. It takes me approximately an hour to get to work. It also takes me approximately an hour to get to work via public transport. In my car, I am warm (or cold if I want to be). I don't have to sit next to someone with BO or who has a personal stereo blaring out or someone jabbering nonsense on their mobile. I can drive in silence or I can listen to my iPod or the radio. I know I am going to get caught in a jam and yet still I drive. Why? See sentences five onwards in this paragraph.
I drive because I want to. I already pay for the privilege.
If Sir Rod Eddington's plans are adopted, it won't stop the middle classes driving. It won't stop those with company cars. It will hit the working class and people for whom driving is not a luxury. It is, thanks to appalling public transport, a necessity.
Why does Labour keep piling on tax after tax after tax? It was founded to help poor people not to tax them into an early grave. The biggest joke is the Cabinet are all driven about by their chauffeurs in cars financed by the taxpayer. They will not be affected. The oafish Deputy Prime Minister, Two Jags, will tootle on his merry way whatever Sir Rod Eddington says.
Vote Labour!
People power
It has been revealed that almost 200 speed cameras have been vandalised in Britain in the last two years.
Good.
Good.
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