“EAST End gangster Ronnie Kray confessed to being bisexual in secret recordings,” reports The Sun. The story is not Kray’s bisexuality but the recording itself - the property of writer Robin McGibbon whose book The Krays: Their Life Behind Bars was released last month.
The report ends with:
“[Kray] shot dead fellow gangster George Cornell in an East End pub after being called a ‘fat poof’.” Not according to McGibbon’s taped interview with the psycho which you can listen to here. After McGibbon prompts the subject with: ”A lot of lies have been told about the Cornell thing…”
ONE of the joys of being me is that I can change my mind without shame. So while it is true I rarely ever had a good word to say about the late News of the World, I now say this: bring it back! I don’t make this plea because I think it was especially brilliant: its absence simply draws attention to the sheer awfulness of the survivors.
The Sunday Mirror is a thin soup of nothing-in-particular and lame commentary – who cares what the pompous teeth-bearing TV newsreader Mark Austin thinks about anything? Its TV supplement Celebs is printed on nasty cheap bog roll paper and makes theScrews‘ Fabulous look like Vogue. The People may still interest a few pre-internet thugs who use ITV Teletext to find last minute holiday bargains. TheSunday Express at least has a short story – amazing. The Mail on Sunday is no substitute: its market is quite different and lacks the essential celebrity smut the Screws served up with a side dish of moral nosegay.
SOMEONE called Johann Hari, a columnist on the UK Independent and a gadabout for various other up-there publications, has confessed to lifting quotes to beef up his celebrity interviews. If his star subject is not making much sense, Hari will pinch a better quote on the point-in-hand, truffled from the written work of the interviewee (uncredited), and pass it off as part of his own splendid cross-exam. Naughty!
Blogger scorn and fainting have greeted this confession: why, it’s even trending on Twitter as I write.
LIZ Brewer is a living legend – and you’re just very sad if you’ve never heard of her. For decades she has graced many cities of the world with the glitteriest parties and media-friendly stunts on behalf of her royal, high society, celebrity and corporate clientele.
In recent times TV broadened her fame with Ladette to Lady on which, as ‘Etiquette and Social Protocol Teacher’, she sought to turn ’innit’-spewing chavs into presentable princesses who held their table knives not as pens. Liz now has a new book out (details below), a trove of wisdom and instruction on good manners and social form. Madame Arcati caught up with her….
Liz Brewer! Party planner extraordinaire! Someone once described you as Krug on legs. You party-plan for Ivana Trump, Dame Shirley Bassey, London mayor Boris Johnson and many others, don’t you? And who else? (Is it just party planning?)
Actually it was the front cover of one of the Sunday mags that described me as ‘Fizzy Liz Krug on legs’!*You have an amazing memory! At the time I was Ambassador for Krug and Remy Krug was a good friend. Now I am the Roving Ambassador of Laurent-Perrier who have flown me a number of times to their impressive Chateau Levois. On one occasion to be presented with the honour of being made a Dame Chevalier de Champagne for L’Ordre des Coteaux de Champagne. (And Dame Shirley Bassey received the title of Dame d’Honneur de Champagne at Champagne de Castellane for the ceremony of the ordre de Coteaux de Champagne).
*Ahem, it was actually Woman’s Journal, phrase coined by one Victor Olliver
Which is the best party you’ve ever planned for a client?
IS GAY Girl in Damscus real or not? Is Amina Abdulla Arf a lie designed to bring shame on the Syrian regime – the regime that killed Hamza al-Khateeb and pays famers to be shot at by Israelis – and sell movie rights? Madame Arcati investigates:
AS the world (ie a few cock-cunting or cunting-cock journalists) wonder about the identity and whereabouts of the A Gay Girl In Damascus blogger – apparently disappeared while the actual proud owner of Gay Girl’s faked face came to life boo-hooing on BBC2′s Newsnight about internet stolen identities (the perils of) - let us not forget A Gay Guy In Damascus.
POOR Kim Howells! Who is he? Oh yes, he’s the former culture minister turned TV presenter. It fell to him to interview Molly Parkin for the Great Lives series show on BBC Wales broadcast on May 30. But the experience has left him a shadow of his former self – ‘[It] has shredded my nerves,’ he reports on his BBC blog. He writes further:”
“She may be in her 80th year but being close to her when she’s recounting details of her turbulent life or expounding upon her philosophy is like trying to live with a machine-gun emplacement in the heat of battle.”
He didn’t look too comfortable during filming it must be said. As I gazed on his slightly pained on-camera countenance I wondered momentarily whether he had perchance sat on an unlubricated dildo (not to be recommended, people) and was too polite to complain.
Still, he is impressed by her Performance Art (ie, usual behaviour), especially at an exhibition of her sexually explicit paintings - ’Being used only to the phoney, manufactured outrageousness of artists like Tracey Emin and her showbiz ilk’ he is dazzled by her authenticity. Tracey Emin phoney? Whatever next.
To read Mr Howells’ dispatch click here.
EVER smiling pop particle physicist Prof Brian Cox writes a crisp piece in The Sun about baseless doomsday prophecies. He sweetly masks his guesswork with a certainty that the world won’t end this weekend despite the claims of an idiotic American ‘Christian’ radio broadcaster. He then moves onto rubbish the silly Mayan doomsday ‘prediction’ that the world is to expire in December 2012. No such prophecy exists in the source material but it suits him to use this to pursue his atheistic agenda by dwelling on obvious absurdities.
He quotes an unnamed “leading authority” that the 2012 myth is a “complete fabrication and a chance for a lot of people to cash in.” Foxy Coxy then asks: “I wonder where we’ve seen that before?”
HOW did Jedward not win Eurovsion? They referenced Gilbert & George: high concept pop or what, you Euro-cunts? The gayest duo currently warbling. I wonder if they are practising. Yet. Dare they? Long live Ireland!
US Vogue has removed its shameful interview with Syrian first lady Asma al-Assad from its website after my April 26 post drawing attention to its continued online presence. Since the indentured guttersnipes of the press had forgotten all about this I thought I should say something.
WHILE the Syrian government massacres its revolting peasants, I see that US Vogue has still yet to take down its recent ghastly and fawning interview with Asma al-Assad, Syria’s “dynamic first lady” who is on a “mission to create a beacon of culture and secularism.” She should import the BBC’s resident proselytising atheist Prof Brian Cox to help her out. Read the rest of this entry »
Read the rest of this entry »
Tribune – the leftie mag I thought had expired yonks ago – has importuned another (not quite) socialite-socialist (ret’d) to take over where the marketing budget left off. Step forward Farah Damji whose work occupies the centre pages of the latest issue – an interview with the outgoing National Chairman of the Prison Officers’ Association (POA), Colin Moses; described as the ‘only the second black UK Trade Union leader.’
Moses is a vitriolic critic of the government’s plan to turn our jails into privately run cash cows. But it is New Labour that comes in for his most caustic criticism, blaming the party for birthing the ‘punishment for profit’ policy. And in opposition, Labour still shows no interest in listening to the little people of the prison service, he claims.
EVEN the ancient legend that is Madame Arcati finds herself astonished. I thought I’d heard and seen it all. Hugh Grant – yes, the man who is the current incarnation of British movie upper class cock-cunter – has saved the New Statesman. His naughty article on how he stitched up a former News of the World hack (see previous post) on illegal phone hacking in the Murdoch empire is now trending on Twitter. This is thanks to the feature going online (not from purchase!) - drawing in tens of thousands of new readers and reinventing the magazine in the process.
The mag now understands that celebrity power is its future, particularly since it is Stephen Fry who’s leading the battle tweet (with a link to the mag that doesn’t work). I tweeted first, natch. Also, countless people now know of the skulduggery at the Screws even though much of Hugh’s nuggets are not new. Read the rest of this entry »
Read the rest of this entry »
When I first happened on it last year I had no idea what it was supposed to be. I decided it was some kind of nature documentary. Red in tooth and acrylic claw, it features talking-walking humanoid cosmetics in their unscripted habitat of Essex beauty salons and nightclubs.
“What’s the longest pier in Essex?” the lipsticks and blushers are asked at a quiz night. “Isle of Wight?” a vajazzled L’Oréal skin care product wonders.
THE divine newspaper columnist Suzanne Moore has made her thoughts known on the topic of Jemima Khan guest editing the current issue of the New Statesman. As a former writer on the little-read publication, who departed amid some acrimony, she’s entitled. Suzanne has no personal beef with the fragrant Jemima but does wonder on a social network site, slyly, whether the magazine may ‘walk the walk on social mobility.’
THE media plutonium lovers are out in force as the Fukushima nuclear plant sizzles on – plainly an awful lot of people have skipped the brain-enriching spinach diet. The Sun’s Jeremy Clarkson would be happy to have a nuke built in his underpants (plenty of space available for it, then) while the Guardian columnist and secular goddess (in a personal capacity) Suzanne Moore dismisses concerns about the nuclear option by lamenting the number of deaths in mines.
To this point I would just say: one is local, the other potentially global, in its effects. We all know this. And I for one am not prepared to take that risk just so I can bung oven chips in the microwave. Read the rest of this entry »
Read the rest of this entry »
LIBYA - billed on the BBC TV news as a cosy “Conflict” and not a proper war, is a pathetic escapade based on emotion and greed. The anti-Gaddafi forces are called the “rebels“. But the real rebel looks more like Gaddafi. Madame Arcati takes a look:
WHILE Britain, America, France and other mighty nations play space invader games over the Libyan Desert, nudge-winkingly plotting the overthrow of the unloved Gaddafi, my mind keeps turning back to Private Eye‘s late and celebrated investigative reporter Paul Foot and his well-argued alternative view of the Lockerbie atrocity.
In 2004 he wrote in The Guardian: ‘The Lockerbie bombing was carried out not by Libyans at all but by terrorists based in Syria and hired by Iran to avenge the shooting down in the summer of 1988 of an Iranian civil airliner by a US warship.’
The first was remote. When I worked for the late old IPC cunties’ monthly Woman’s Journal I had to ‘nogotiate’ an interview with her. She didn’t want a one-to-one it emerged but she agreed to a fax chat. The result wasn’t that interesting. The Dame rarely spoke the truth about anything, but like her pal Michael Jackson, adopted a breathless, semi-cosmic pose suggestive of a deity bothered by mundane inquiries. Her most admirable feature was a merciless contempt for the media and a shrewd wariness of the public. In one TV interview she gave a few years ago she teased a journalist with personal allusions: when asked the direct question she said with a smiling scorn you couldn’t fake: ’Wouldn’t you like to know.’ Perfect old Hollywood.
SHEER bliss that Andy Coulson, lately of 10 Downing St’s spin dept (and ongoing cynosure of phone hacking claims [denied] arising from his tenure as editor of the never-boring News of the World) has been recruited by the One Young World organisation as a media consultant. No, I’d never heard of it either.
Apparently it encourages young people to think they are world leaders and arranges conferences where they can meet actual world leaders, like Desmond Tutu, to talk about whatever. Provided you were born in or after 1985 and have €3,000 to spare, you, too, could attend its Zurich summit in September if lucky to talk about whatever.
WHILE I couldn’t care less about the fate of togaed Gaddafi and his open-necked colleagues, I am intrigued by the new language of the UN’s war against Libya. ‘Military assets’, ‘naval assets’, ‘intelligence assets’: I don’t recall any ‘assets’ during the Iraq invasion when the the lingo of the fairground for mass destruction gained common currency (‘shock and awe’ etc).
My assumption is that someone in PR dreamt up ‘assets’ for the ongoing purpose of sanitising and propagandising instruments of war. ‘Asset’ is a word that customarily belongs to business and investment: it connotes something of economic value. In the general sense, an asset is a valuable item. Rather than focus on the purpose of a tank, rocket, submarine, what have you, someone has decided instead to emphasise value; and to have something of value one must own it. So, all these killer assets are first and foremost property – it is this euphemistic line of thinking that our leaders would have us follow when we listen to the news. Think assets, think house, car, garden… Tomahawk Rocket? Almost cosy.
THE News of the World launches men’s supplement Jam – what a very sad and tired retread of masculine fetishes it is. The title alone is a pre-Loaded memento mori – y’know, bedroom air guitars. Nasty lank hair.Wanking.
Cover boy Liam Gallagher is a ’21st Century Boy’ when the b/w pic harks back to the mid-90s. Yellow-toothed David Bailey snaps the portrait, sooo 60s, darling.
I MEANT to say sooner but one small detail of the Lord Chamberlain’s invitation to the wedding of William and Kate interested me. The grammar. Guests are invited to the marriage of the prince with Kate. The traditional wording would normally employ the preposition to, although ‘with’ is not incorrect and is now customary in more fashionable circles: ‘with’ does enhance the suggestion of a meeting of equals.
A FAINT sneery rustle of controversy over US Vogue‘s embarrassingly timed profile of Syria’s first lady, Asma al-Assad, 35. As Middle Eastern and north African regimes topple all about its borders and beyond, and Syria itself beats down rioters and restricts internet access, here comes a piece of scented puffery which lauds the wife of President Bashar al-Assad, who won 97% of the vote in the 2000 election.
You can’t buy that kind of charisma. Or may be you can.
Apparently, the first lady is the nation’s Mother Theresa. Wisely, she leaves the jewels at home while ministering to the dirt poor. She’s a strange kind of saintly figure, however. The Vogue piece recounts how she cruelly tells a bunch of children that their school is to be closed down. As infantile blubs start up she reveals she’s only joking - ‘I just wanted to see how much you care about Massar,’ she says of her charity.
63 is still a bit too young to die but not young enough to elicit self-worried scorn (as in: “That’s no age!”). Had Gerry Rafferty died at 61 or perhaps 59, reports would have used the word “untimely” or “premature”. But 63 is just inside the Anytime Now zone. And considering his prodigious boozing, 63 was not a bad age at all to pass away. That’s what we think without saying.
Another thought that goes unsaid is that Rafferty’s Baker Street helped kill off the Smashie and Nicey-type DJs that infected Radio One years ago. Once upon a time any random switch-on to the station risked yet more exposure to Baker Street’s “unforgettable sax line” whine.
THE problem is that the moment Julian lands in Sweden, Obama’s loyal drones will apply for his extradition to face a 500-year spell in a Texan penitentiary for upsetting Hillary Clinton over her illegal UN spying directives.
So I think we should follow daytime TV Jeremy Kyle’s example and subject Julian to a lie detector test on these rape allegations – perhaps on the show itself, surrounded by hair-gelled oafs and their screaming chav tarts with their hoop earrings.
ONE way to promote your website right now is to post a Justin Bieber item, albeit a spurious one - perhaps the sad, neglected, undiscussed, unread, utterly redundant and hypocritical New Statesman might take note. Justin is among the most searched global topics on the internet, apparently.
Into my second paragraph and I’ve already lost about 95% of the beliebers: bye. But let’s plough on. Much of the obsession with the heterosexually advertised Christian teen sensation, with the bossy mum, is focused on his cock: Nanny Google has about 1.36m links to Bieber cock stories. So if I link this story to my Daniel Radcliffe PhotoShopped cock pics I’ll have created a perfect storm of interest to take Madame Arcati well into the Winterval season.