The 'Power Pose'

I love a song in which there are many chances to stand in the 'power pose' you know the one, Beyonce does it all the time, generally just after being shot out of a cannon or through a trapdoor in the floor, that kind of thing that happens to everyone all the time. 

Here is Beyonce demonstrating the 'Power Pose',
gold leggings and leotard are optional. 

You can imagine my joy then when last night at 1.01am I found this incredible, extended, orchestral version of 'The Look of Love' by ABC. I bloody love this song, and I have now found my new favourite version. Everything is great about it. The bongo solo, the string accompaniement, there is a point where they make about 30 seconds out of that woman saying 'goodbye' in her deadpan and a door slamming. Anyway here is the song, I urge you to stick in a power pose where you feel appropriate. 

Going Underground.

This week I was watching a report on the BBC website in which the Tube was described as 'old and dirty'. I suddenly found myself quite offended. I didn't realise that I would get quite so protective over something I simply use to get around town. It wasn't until I started to think about it that I realised how much I love the Tube. The smell you get when that rush of warm air hits you just before the train shoots past you on the platform, the announcer who always sounds so happy to be going to Willesden Green on the Jubilee Line, the battle to get on the single escalator that takes you down to the Jubilee Line at Canada Water. I love that it is always too hot, always too crowded and that you always seem to be the one that never gets a seat and always falls over. Don't ask me why because I really don't know. I think many Londoners don't appreciate just how lucky we are to have it. Some of the weirdest and funniest moments of my life have happened on the Tube. There was the time I sat down (yes I got a seat) on the Piccadilly Line, looked up and saw a girl I had met at a Birmingham University open day the week earlier, that same day I saw a boy who had left my school a year previously on an escalator somewhere beneath Oxford Circus. Just before Christmas there was the brilliant announcer who sang all of his messages into his loudhailer, bringing festive cheer to the Waterloo Tube crush.

I love it when you catch someone's eye when there is the crazy in the carriage spouting off about how crowded it is or that they can't get a seat, that smirk you share means more as communication on the tube is almost strictly off limits. The one time this rule was consistently broken was during the Olympics. People actually talked to each other, they shared their joy at Britain's success and were amazed when Olympians traveled on the Tube with us mere mortals.
Even after a band of terrorist brought darkness to the city I call my home and the Tube that I love so much we still use it, Londoners are hardier than they seem.
So in this year when the Tube turns 150 years old I think we should all realise how lucky we are to have it. It may not always run on time, we may get frustrated with just how busy it is but think what we would do without it. I wouldn't get to dance on deserted Tube platforms at 5 in the morning to start.

Why Celebrity Meltdowns Are The New Greek Tragedy.

I love a good celebrity meltdown. From Katona to Lindsay, Sheen to Gibson I have watched them all with a strange kind of sympathy whilst lapping up every single Daily Mail Online 'article' about them with glee. There is something very cathartic about it. One of my favourites came courtesy of Mariah Carey just before her autobiographical film 'Glitter' was released in 2001. Mariah turned up at an MTV party unannounced, started giving a strip-tease to the fans outside and handed out ice lollies. Amazing. 

You can imagine my reaction this week then when little Justin Bieber had one of the meltdowns to end all meltdowns on our very own shores. I still find it hard to accept that I am the same age as Bieber. I still see him as a 14 year old singing 'Baby' in a bowling alley but this week Bieber has finally come of age in my eyes. It is the same old sorry story that for a child star to grow up they need to have a crash in their late teens. Bieber's has been spectacular. Arriving 2 and half hours late to a concert where the majority of his fans are under 16 was amazing. Bieber is so rock and roll, shame his audience don't have a clue what that is. I think the Biebs is struggling to come to terms with the fact that his main audience is getting younger before his eyes when all he wants to do is get shirtless and smash a guitar. Bless. 


Then there was the birthday, his friends were turned away from a club where Bieber was meant to be celebrating turning the ripe old age of 19. Unfortunately because they weren't on the guest list they weren't coming in (just like that Carolina Herrera perfume ad, you know the one). Obviously Bieber wasn't very happy about this and thought the best thing to do would be to get half naked, storm back to his hotel and then tweet angry things. Good work Justin. 
Finally we have the paparazzi incident. Apparently a pap told him to 'go back to America' when he was getting into a car, naturally Bieber in his meltdown state wanted to 'hit you dude', thankfully his bodyguards defused the situation by creating this hilarious image that will forever look like Bieber is being put into his car seat (maybe that's his thing?) 

I know it is bad to get this much joy out of a celebrity meltdown but this is my Soap Opera whilst I don't have a TV at University. When I can watch Justin Bieber go crazy why would I watch Kat deal with Alfie and Roxy's relationship. (I lied, there will always be a place in my heart for Eastenders). 
I justify my love for a meltdown by equating it with Greek Tragedy (bear with me). In the same way that people would watch Oedipus kill his father, marry his mother and gauge his own eyes out for a sense of catharsis I view these meltdowns as pointers that my own life isn't actually that bad.
It is true that I also just like googling the crazy pictures so to finish I will leave you with a picture of my favourite crazy celebrity Li-Lo. I just want her to be my best friend. 

Why Kim Wilde Should Rule The World

I think I will never tire of watching that video of Kim Wilde completely drunk, rolling around a train with a guitarist and singing her hits to a bemused and probably equally drunk Christmas party train home. It was upon watching this again that I realised. This is who should be singing our song this year at Eurovision. In fact she shouldn't just represent us there, she should be an ambassador for Britain across the world. What says 'Best Of British' more than Kim Wilde, slurring her way through her songs, in a pair of reindeer antlers and jumping around in a train carriage? That has Eurovision written all over it. It has G20 Summit written all over it, it has Olympic Opening Ceremony written all over
it (albeit a year late).
So here is my proposal: let's all club together, buy Kim Wilde and get her to sing at everything. It's a simple idea but I believe it would make the world a better place.
You know it's a good idea. Donate 50p to the Kim Wilde for British Ambassador Fund and you can make the world a better place. (We may need more money to get her drunk before every performance).

Thank you for your time.

Bonnie Tyler. I Need A Zero.

When I opened my laptop this morning and was greeted with the words "Bonnie Tyler to represent UK at Eurovision Song Contest" my heart jumped. For the first time I had high hopes as I clicked on the YouTube link. Total Eclipse of the Heart and Holding Out for a Hero played on my mind, finally an 80s pop star who could deliver a big up-tempo song and beat Estonia and all the other Eastern block countries into submission. This is what Eurovision had been waiting for, I thought. A singer who sounds like they are one coughing fit away from a total eclipse of the heart. Someone with hair so big the wind machines will fail to move it. You can imagine my disappointment then when I started listening to the song. It's a ballad. And not only a ballad but the slowest one I have ever heard. Couple that with the video of Bonnie looking like she is desperate for the loo in a completely white lounge and then on the beach and it makes for a sorry state. 

Is there still time to add some synth drums? A few explosion sound effects. I did like that she was doing her bit for physical music sales and HMV by wearing a CD around her neck for half of the video though. 

Of course this morning's announcement prompted a Twitter storm. With Bonnie's hits providing puns galore such as "I Need A Zero" and 'Picking Bonnie Tyler for Eurovision was a mistake. Every now and then she falls apart". 

Surprisingly the video on You Tube has surprisingly good comments from all of the die hard Eurovision supporters from countries like Greece and the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (me neither). But we won't win. We're the United Kingdom. If we won there would be national outcry. We love losing at Eurovision, it gives us something to complain about, and lets face it we don't have the run up to the Olympics or the Jubilee to moan about so we need something.
All that said I still love you Bonnie, you and your massive hair. 

My Love Letter To: Jennifer Lawrence

Jennifer Lawrence, I am in love with you. Not only are you just 22 and have won your first Oscar but you are beautiful, the pride of Hollywood and most importantly, absolutely hilarious. When I was watching the Oscars red carpet on Sunday I knew I wanted to be your best friend when you responded with "I don't know this is the top and this is the bottom" when asked about the different pieces you were wearing. 

Don't worry about the fall, you styled it out. I think I love you even more for it, especially when you were asked in the press conference afterwards what went through your mind when you fell. "A word beginning with F" was your response. It may have been "fall" but you are far too bad ass for that to be your "F" word.

I think we could have a beautiful friendship J-Law, you and I, I can see it now. Knocking and running at Meryl Streep's house. Flour-bombing Kristen Stewart, Bop a Kardashian on the head with your Oscar day, is this sounding good to you? I can see us rolling around Beverly Hills, bottles of cider (because LaLa Land hasn't gone to your head) in hand, shouting at the movie stars. Making our own Hollywood walk of fame. Poking Anne Hathaway's nipples. It all sounds so perfect. 

I also appreciate the way you ran with Seth Macfarlane's boob song. I think the single handed power fist with "oh yeah" face was the perfect way to respond. So much so that I have spent far too long watching the hour long video of that very moment. Isn't the Internet magical? 

I love that you don't take any shit. If you think a question is silly then you say so. If you want to trip up the stairs, then you trip. If you want to wear a dress that looks like the middle is ripped, you wear it. 

Also, although your fall won "moment of the night" for me at the Oscars, your middle finger antics in the press room have to come a close second. If I was allowed to vote for the new Pope I would vote for you. I can see you up on the balcony in the Vatican City, smoking a cigarette, making jokes about how you fell over your robes on the way to the balcony. In fact I'd vote you for anything, Supreme Governer, President, McDonalds employee of the month, MP for Eastleigh. Anything.

So there we have it J-Law. My love letter to you and application for best friend. Please consider me. I love you ever so much and just think about it. J-Law and R-Ol. It has a certain ring to it. I think we are Hollywood's new power couple, or at least the new Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries. 

Cressida Bonas- What You Need To Know.

Cressida, she's obviously bought the
wedding dress already.
Go on Harry, put a crown on it

To sighs of dismay and probably some screams by the Sloane Rangers last week, Prince Harry was seen with girl about town Cressida Bonas on a skiing trip on the slopes of Verbier.

Harry and Cressida (I know it sounds like a sitcom or a bad version of a Shakespeare play) met through Princess Eugenie, she has been part of Harry's circle for a while so knows the ropes. 

Bonas has all the credentials to become Harry's Princess. Her Mother is, wait for this one if you thought Cressida Bonas was funny: "Lady Mary-Gaye Georgiana Lorna Curzon" who was a bit of an it girl back in London's swinging 60s and her father is the blue-blooded Jeffrey Bonas. Ticking all the boxes so far Cress. 
Apparently Prince William had a bit of a thing for Bonas before K-Middy came on the scene, something I am sure will make for a brilliant best man's speech at a wedding one day. 

Here's Chelsey, also dressed in white.
I call this shade "desperation"

Anyway, as much as I would love another Royal Wedding I wouldn't rush out and buy a hat anytime soon. This isn't the first time Harry has been romantically linked since splitting with Chelsey Davy but you never know, Harry is partial to a bit of Vegas. Shot-gun wedding anyone? I just hope that we get a Princess Cress. 



As a side-note I would also like to point out that after spending about half an hour looking at photos of Cressida and Chelsey I conclude that they look the same. Is it just me? I think Hazza has a type.