As for the content of this stright-to-tissues movie, TMZ says Stodden’s film is in tune with the sex lives of her porno fans, what with it being a “solo effort”. This is post-modern porn. And it’s amay-zing, as Vivid Entertainment founder Steven Hirsch enthuses: “Looks amazing, this is the most unique footage I’ve ever seen.” Unique porn is hard to find – some of the stuff out there is niche. Nothing is safe.
Celebrity news & gossip from the world’s showbiz and glamour magazines (OK!, Hello, National Enquirer and more). We read them so you don’t have to, picking the best bits from the showbiz world’s maw and spitting it back at them. Expect lots of sarcasm.
Owen Wilson likes to say “Wow”. If the script contains enough ‘wow’, Owen Wilson is in. Had William Shakespeare wrote “Wow, to be or not to be” or ‘Wow is that a dagger?”, Wilson would have been a fine stage actor.
As it is, he just comes across as a man playing himself on camera.
Everything you needed to know about how stupid the high-brow newspapers think tabloid readers, everyone on the web and the youth are is encapsulated in an Independent headline.
This interview with Russell Brand could well win Ed Miliband the next General Election
Undaunted by the glaringly obvious conclusion that Russell Brand’s influence over the electorate is on a par with John Snow’s socks, the Indy tells its readers that Ed Miliband’s walk through his home echo chamber really mattered to the more go-head members of society:
Ed Miliband’s attempt to break the log jam by making a late-night dash to Russell Brand’s flat was the one moment which left traditional media flat-footed. His interview on Brand’s Trews YouTube channel has been watched by 1.2 million people, many of whom would never consider watching Newsnight.
How many of those 1.2 million were journalists on the social media news beat is possibly in the high hundreds of thousands. And mention of the BBC’s post-Jeremy Paxman, post- Jimmy Savile Newsnight is apt. That show’s desperation to attract a younger audience also featured the preening, anti-intellectual Brand, this time talking with the show’s Evan Davis.
It was an excruciating verbal dad-dance of BBC-sanctioned rebellion.
Brendan O’Neill saw it all:
Hilariously, the very same people who accuse the Murdoch papers of brainwashing their readers into voting for the Tories – such undiluted snobbery – believed that a celeb with a webcam and a lively Twitter presence could simply click his fingers and get the hordes voting Labour. But he couldn’t. And it isn’t hard to see why. It’s because people aren’t idiots. They want substance, seriousness, not finger-wagging gags about EVIL TORIES and instructions to ‘save Britain’ by giving the nod to Ed.
Forget middle-aged, middle-brow, David Icke-lite Russell Brand. The cool-hunting adults should invite Jake Yapp on instead – he’s cheaper and funnier:
As Star Wars: Episode VII gets ready to hit the silver screen, you can listen to what it was like watching the first film in 1977. Youtuber William Forsche recorded his trip to the movies 18 years ago. He writes:
“You can also hear me making laser beam sounds at the end of this recording, because Star Wars got me all fired up!”
Is anyone as excited about this film?
Russell Brand isn’t registered to vote. But he says you should vote Labour, unless you live in Brighton, where you should vote Green. Also, Scots should only vote for a Scot – “If you’re Scottish, you don’t need an English person telling what do to do…” Brand the revolutionary likes fixeed boaders and nationhood. He’s wary of foreigners. He sounds a bit UKIPy.
Also, he’s made his views known after the closing date for voter registration. So, Brandios, get in your times machines and vote soon and vote often for a UKIP-Green-Labour-SNP coalition.
What do we make of this? Helping us are the newspapers experts.
He has nearly 10 million Twitter followers; his YouTube interview with Ed Miliband received well over a million hits and counting; he is listened to by hundreds of thousands of disillusioned Britons, particularly young people who have been repeatedly kicked over the last few years. Russell Brand matters.
Sure: Russell Brand entertains.
And however much bluff and bluster the Tories now pull – maybe more playground abuse from David Cameron, who called Brand a “joke” – his endorsement of Labour in England and Wales will worry them.
More people have registered to vote than ever before: between the middle of March and the deadline to register, nearly 2.3 million registered, over 700,000 of them 24 years old or younger. In countless marginal seats, disillusioned voters who were either going to plump for a protest party or not vote at all could well decide whether we are ruled by David Cameron, George Osborne and Iain Duncan Smith for another half a decade.
They could. They could not.
Naturally, Brand’s endorsement is being portrayed as a giant U-turn, and sure enough, he has abandoned his “no vote” stance.
Maya PlisetskayaI: ‘I would like to talk about Swan Lake and my handsome partners but it all revolves around Stalin’s terror’
“I would like to talk about ‘Sleeping Beauty’ and ‘Swan Lake,’ about my battements and my handsome partners,” wrote ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, who has died at the age of 89. “But whichever way I look at my childhood, it all revolves around politics and Stalin’s terror.”
Her New York Times’ obituary tells us:
Her father was shot to death in 1938 in Stalin’s purges. (Ms. Plisetskaya learned the date of his death only in 1989.) Her mother was arrested and sent to a labor camp with her infant son, then exiled to Kazakhstan….
Ms. Plisetskaya was… restricted by the Bolshoi’s rigid Soviet guidelines on choreography, which viewed the very movement of dance through the prism of ideology, yet she was able to infuse stultified, literal movements with much deeper meaning….
“I danced all of classical ballet and dreamed of something new,” she said. “In my time, it was impossible.”
But it was a career that was far from plain sailing. She first sparked scandal in 1967 after a meeting in Moscow with Cuban choreographer Alberto Alonso, who, as a citizen of a friendly communist country, was allowed to create for her the Carmen Suite.
“Carmen – where every gesture, every look, every movement had meaning, was different from all other ballets … The Soviet Union was not ready for this sort of choreography,” Plisetskaya said. “It was war, they accused me of betraying classical dance.”
On August 11, 1974, Iggy Pop performed an improvised play called ‘Murder of the Virgin’ at Rodney Bingenheimer’s English Disco on August 11,1974 in Los Angeles, California. Iggy Pop wasn’t always a car insurance salesman…
When Ed Miliband popped over to anti-voting comedian Russell Brand for a televised chat in the kitchen, the papers reacted. What do the tabloids make of Ed’s meeting of minds?
As ever the photos the tabloids chose to use are telling:
The Sun has Ed Miliband on its front page:
Celebrity sex tapes give perps and pervs the chance to see a famous face and body in the throes of passion. The more unlikley the sex tape star, the more seductive the skin flick. So. News that America’s penumatic sweetheart Courtney Stodden is offering her working genitals for public consumption will need considerable marketing.
Stodden is the cartoonish, pumpkin-chested teen who married weathered older actor Doug Hutchison. Together they put on a pretty captivating circus.
Pop Star Takes Drugs! Like you, we too are shocked by the Sun’s front-page news that Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction, has wiled away the time by rolling “what appears to be a joint”. It is a “cannabis storm” – which sounds great it you’re a stoner. The real shock in this story, however, is that Tomlinson should be filmed skinning up mainstream, stupifying drugs in “the four-star Soho Hotel”.
We live in straigthened times, readers. Once upon a time, pop stars did imaginative things with pricey drugs and fish in expansive five-star suites or low-down dens in debauchery. Now we are expected to be excited by a pop star sharing a cab with some mates and billing up in a mid-ranking hotel one review damns are being popular with “media types”.
If he were any more middle-of-the-road and Louis Timlinson would be a dead hedgehog…
So terrible is Kate Hopkins, the Sun’s vile sayer of nasty things to deadline, that the Indepedent called her words on brave, entrepreneurial, tough, resourceful and desperate migrants trying to cross into Europe from North Africa “a column so hateful it might give Hitler pause”.
‘Worse than Hitler’ might be a tagline Hopkins can live with, but, come on on, Hitler was pretty racist, and it’s hard to think of a Katie Hopkins article on immigration altering history, forcing the German leader to recognise just how bad he is. “After alles,” he ponders, “I enjoy mass murder but I’m nein Katie Hopkins.” And Hitler was no fan of borders.
You can read Katie’s ride on the journalisomobile here. But if you can’t be bothered to here are a few highlights:
Rescue boats? I’d use gunships to stop migrants You may as well set up a Libya to Italy P&O ferry
NO, I don’t care. Show me pictures of coffins, show me bodies floating in water, play violins and show me skinny people looking sad…
You want to make a better life for yourself? Then you had better get creative in Northern Africa…
Britain is not El Dorado. We are not Elysium. Some of our towns are festering sores, plagued by swarms of migrants and asylum seekers, shelling out benefits like Monopoly money. Make no mistake, these migrants are like cockroaches. They might look a bit “Bob Geldof’s Ethiopia circa 1984”, but they are built to survive a nuclear bomb. They are survivors…
Bring on the gunships, force migrants back to their shores and burn the boats….
There’s a shrill petition to have Hopkins sacked from the Sun. Sign it and you are on the side of the goodly. You are the good censor, the bright light who saw the limit of free speech and squashed it. Hurray for you.
Best not to bother.
Ed West spots “an interesting piece by James Bartholomew on ‘virtue signalling’, the bane of social media and political debate; that is, people expressing how ruddy good they are by telling the world how much they hate bad things like Ukip and the Daily Mail.” And the Sun’s Katie Hopkins.
“It’s noticeable how often virtue signalling consists of saying you hate things. It is camouflage. The emphasis on hate distracts from the fact you are really saying how good you are. If you were frank and said, ‘I care about the environment more than most people do’ or ‘I care about the poor more than others’, your vanity and self-aggrandisement would be obvious, as it is with Whole Foods. Anger and outrage disguise your boastfulness.
West adds that if he were as hated as Hopkins he’d want to kill himself. But Hopkins is no suicide. Maybe she is tougher than Hitler, after all? Hitler craved love. Hopkins seems to enjoy the notoriety.
And rather than taking Hopkins down, getting her the sack brings to mind this episoide from David Sedaris’ Santaland Diaries. Our hero is working as an elf, going through the soul-detroying, scripted motions, doing what people expect of a cartoon character on public display. And for that, people want him fired:
sTo look like Kylie Jenner t0 and to pass the #KylieJennerChallenge – stick a place a jar or something over your mouth, suck all the air out of it, and feel your lips begin to bulge.
Et voila! You look ridiculous. But all it cost you is the price of a jar of olives and a small shred of dignity.
— SC:QuinnyCassanova (@QTwoFour) April 20, 2015
This is just brilliant. Listeners to the BBC World Service’s World Have Your Say show were introduced to Godfrey Elfwick, a student from Sheffield talking about the lastest Star Wars franchise, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Force Awakens. Godfrey says the character “Dark Raider” is “racial stereotype”.
Godfrey Elfwick is a work of parody. Having said on twitter that he’d never seen Star Wars, the BBC got in touch:
Did Angela do any research? If she did, she must have missed Godfrey’s other tweets, like these:
Godfrey pricked the knowing liberal bubble with a skewer:
Brilliant. Just brilliant…
(PS: is he the only work of parody in that clip?)
Batman v Superman – Retro style:
This week ESPN’s Britt McHenry learnt that these days anyone can be on camera:
A video surfaced Thursday of the ESPN reporter dressing down a parking-lot attendant in brutally ugly fashion.
For those of you in need of a script, McHendy said:
“I’m in the news sweetheart, I will f****g sue this place…. Maybe if I was missing some teeth they would hire me, huh? ‘Cause they look so stunning … ‘Cause I’m on television and you’re in a f*****g trailer, honey.”
‘Music to shiver by’ might be the name of John Carpenter’s album of Lost Themes. The man who thrilled us with his Halloween and these overlooked gems inspired directors Gavin Hignight and Ben Verhulst to put pictures to Carpenter’s tune Night.
Hignight pays tribute to the master of sinister synth:
“Upon hearing NIGHT by John Carpenter my head was instantly filled with these nighttime highway road dreamscapes. Someone or something, haunted, traveling the road alone in the late hours.
“Our goal was to take that feeling and put it into a video that paid tribute to the film work of Carpenter but at the same time gave him a new world to play in… in this case literally through Virtual Reality.”
Budding MPs and actors with political ambitions can rest assured that your past peculiarities need not be barriers to the legislative chamber. In this video future California Governor Arnie Schwarzenegger seductively feeds a woman a carrot.
Simon Cowell has a new format: he wants to adopt a child.
Could being Cowell’s child be a TV talent show?
In 2013, Cowell trailed the idea of an adoption show by asking his twitter followers to suggest names for his news dogs. The dogs were adopted, of course, it being not yet possible to for Cowell to sire his own.
Cowell opted to name his adopted pets Squiddly and Diddly, after characters on an old TV show. So any parents with children of that name, hard cheese. Better news for parents of a child called Ernie, because Simon Cowell has a young son called Eric.
(Has this scoop got anything to do with Cowell having a new series of Britain’s Got Talent to promote? – Ed)
Amanda Holden heralds the start of vaudevillian Britain’s Got Talent season whatever by telling the Sun she wants her nipples are insured for £2m. The Sun works out that each nipple is worth £1m apiece. But we think they’d struggle to branch out on solo careers as holders for wet donkey jackets or Deal or No Deal presenters, being better off together and attached to the adamite Holden superstructure.
“I decided if it was good enough for Kylie Minogue’s bum or Mariah Carey’s legs, it is definely required for my nipples.”
Patsy Kensit is talking about Kate Middleton in Stylist:
Watch out for horses, Kate! And naked women!
Blue Verse, by W.H. Auden:
There was a young poet whose sex
Was aroused by aesthetic effects;
Marvell’s The Garden
Gave him a hard-on
And he came during Oedipus Rex.
Said the Queen to the King: “I don’t frown on
The fact that you choose to go down on
My page on the stairs
But you’ll give the boy airs
If you will do the job with your crown on.”
The Bishop-Elect of Hong Kong
Has a cock which is ten inches long;
He thinks the spectators
Are admiring his gaiters
When he goes to the Gents–he is wrong.
For more retro goodness follow Flashbak…
What gets you fired from Rolling Stone magazine? A story that wrongly branded a frat house violent gang rapists will not get your fired. But a bad review of Hootie and the Blowfish might.
All of the songs overflow with generic jangly guitars that evoke denatured versions of edgier Southern popsters like R.E.M. and the dB’s, whose Peter Holsapple is reduced by the need for health insurance to serving as fifth Hootie on organ, piano, and accordion…
These comfy, cozy sounds–the musical equivalent of Mom’s chocolate chip cookies and a big glass of milk–are paired with lyrics that reek of Hallmark-card sentimentality…
To these ears, Hootie are the blandest extreme of a wave of bands…
His review was spiked, replaced with more favourable review by contributor Elysa Gardner.
DeRogatis told the New York Observer.
The Observer quoted a spokesman for Rolling Stone saying the review swap was a matter of writing quality and not opinion, and DeRogatis saying Rolling Stone Editor and Publisher Jann Wenner is not necessarily a Hootie fan, but “a fan of bands that sell eight and a half million copies” of a record. The day after the piece ran, DeRogatis was fired. (A follow-up piece in the Observer said Rolling Stone would not discuss DeRogatis’s departure for reasons of employer-employee privacy.)
Rolling Stone employment policy might change if the frat house sues…
The Sun has replaced Page 3 and most of Page 2 with the story on Casey Batchelor, a toppless stunna last seen in public frotting a member of middle-aged boyband Blue on Celebrity Big Brother.
Casey – no longer topless – is here to tell us that she’s not had sex for eight months.
“I don’t miss sex, says Casey.” I’ve dated so many guys I thought were nice, but once the deed was done they lost interest…. I refuse to waste another number on a man that doesn’t deserve me.”
The Sun has secured two people to speak up for “hard-working Brits”. Miners, carehome workers, northerners, Jeremy Clarkson’s dry-cleaner and Kim Kardashian’s depilators were vusy, so they found the next best workaholics: Joey Essex and Amy Childs off TV’s The Only Way Is Essex.
Taking time out from their hectic working lives of eating kangaroo anus, being thick to deadline and tanning, Essex and Childs call for a change in politics.
The Sun think the country needs more influence from Essex man and woman. This is Sun politcs where The Only Party is Essex.
The Sunday Times‘ “Relative Values” feature focues on famous relations. This week, the paper looks at TV presenter Ben Fogle and his father, Bruce. It features one of the most wonderful epsisode of passive-aggresive bragging we’ve seen for a long while.
Sasy Ben Fogle:
Mum and Dad never “bragged” about their life. Dad has written more than 50 books and got an MBE [for his work as co-founder of Hearing Dogs for Deaf People], but he always underplays his achievements. In that sense, I am definitely my father’s son. Even though I might be off to Outer Mongolia for a month, I don’t tell him because I don’t want him to think I’m bragging. I didn’t even tell him I got an invite to William and Kate’s wedding; I think he read about it in the newspapers. But what do you say? “I’m mates with William and Harry and I’ve been invited to the wedding.” I want Dad to be proud of me, but I don’t want to come across as arrogant or conceited. In retrospect, there are a few things I ought to have told him, and that was one of them.
Is he really “definitely his father’s son”..?