Now, I'm going to jump around a bit here but fluidity has never been my strong point. Do you remember when those pandas arrived from China into Edinburgh and they broadcast the whole thing live on TV as if it was the Moon Landings or a Royal Wedding? They had that BBC News reporter asking all the important questions such as 'do the Pandas understand English?' as we waited for what seemed like an age for the Pandas to get their luggage together, dig around the back of the seat to find their phone and pick up 200 Marlboros in duty free. Well, the 30 minutes or so it takes for them to close the roof at Wimbledon is a bit like that. We get the peculiar sound of John McEnroe trying to commentate on what is, essentially a giant gazebo going up over a rainy bank holiday barbecue. The crowd 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' at the sight as if it were the pandas themselves parachuting into Centre Court. After the roof is actually shut we then get around 20 minutes during which time someone flicks on the air con switch and we all wait around for some magic to happen so the tennis players feel like they are still playing outside. This is when the BBC cameramen and women on Centre Court have a field day, and personally this is probably my favourite part of Wimbledon. They zoom in on every canoodling couple, children eating scotch eggs, people looking bored and flicking through their Twitter feed. They do a quick round up of who's who in the Royal Box whilst McEnroe or that one of GMTV (may she rest in peace) tries to out-do each other in the 'who reads 'Hello!' the most' stakes. Ace to you BBC, for providing me with a people watching service without having to leave the house. BBC, I implore you to add 'BBC Centre Court Roof' to your extensive red button Wimbledon channels. This will give me something else to get addicted to, like when I spent nearly 5 hours straight watching the 'Chimney Cam' when the new Pope was elected. PLEASE BBC?
Friday, 28 June 2013
Today at Wimbledon: Day 4. I HEART THE CENTRE COURT ROOF AND WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW IT.
Today the roof was used for the first time-hurrah! Unlike most who watch Wimbledon I relish the chance that the roof may come on. Even though it has only been there a few years 'the Roof' to give it it's proper, Sue Barker approved name has already become a peculiar tradition.
Today at Wimbledon: Day 3 "WimbledonTF?"
I know my day 3 update is horrifically late and for that I am sorry. It wasn't posted on actual day 3 due to events of a tonic and indeed gin nature. So anyway. Better late than never. Here is Today at Wimbledon: Day 3.
Day 3 was an absolute corker for someone who loves a bit of drama. It seemed that more players dropped out on Tuesday Wednesday than were actually in the initial draw. Azarenka, Cilic, Isner, that bloke that knocked Nadal out. There has been no let up in the injuries. Outside of dropouts we also had two major casulaties. Sharapova was knocked out, ending her Wimbledon dreams on the third day. So too was Federer, unbelievably. That means that even before the second week only two of the big 4 remain. Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray. All this of course means that the pressure on Murray is now even heavier. I think the most used phrase by Sue Barker on Wednesday was 'I don't want to increase speculation BUT could Andy do it now?' To be honest I hope that things get a little tougher for Andy. I don't want his getting to the final to be put down to an easy draw. That's if he even gets there. Given the shocks over the past few days nothing should come as a surprise. God this is stressful, I need a gin, sorry day 4.
Day 3 was an absolute corker for someone who loves a bit of drama. It seemed that more players dropped out on Tuesday Wednesday than were actually in the initial draw. Azarenka, Cilic, Isner, that bloke that knocked Nadal out. There has been no let up in the injuries. Outside of dropouts we also had two major casulaties. Sharapova was knocked out, ending her Wimbledon dreams on the third day. So too was Federer, unbelievably. That means that even before the second week only two of the big 4 remain. Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray. All this of course means that the pressure on Murray is now even heavier. I think the most used phrase by Sue Barker on Wednesday was 'I don't want to increase speculation BUT could Andy do it now?' To be honest I hope that things get a little tougher for Andy. I don't want his getting to the final to be put down to an easy draw. That's if he even gets there. Given the shocks over the past few days nothing should come as a surprise. God this is stressful, I need a gin, sorry day 4.
Tuesday, 25 June 2013
Today at Wimbledon: Day 2. Wimbo-Chic
Today I would like to talk to you about what people wear to Wimbledon. There are definitely two distinct styles. On one side we have those who have probably been given the tickets from work, freebies from the All England Club or go because they love to tell everyone they know that they have 'Centre tickets dahhhling' before rushing off in their Land Rover to pick up Tarquin and Jemima from school. These are the Wimbledon-ers who wear pashminas and blazers, straw hats with purple and green on and pearls. On the other side of the fashion net we have the die-hards, the tennis fans and the Henman-hillers. This group consists of a bunch of red, white and blue-wearing, union jack clutching, deely bopper-wearing nutters and they are what makes Wimbledon amazing. It's this group who the average Wimbledon watcher at home can identify with. We love the people who have gone to the effort of painting their faces, writing 'GO MURRAY!' on their best white shirt and get jolly pissed on Pimms. These are the people who queue for days to get a coveted ticket for Centre Court to shout 'COME ON TIM' at Andy Murray.
In other news and as an addition to yesterday's 'Today at Wimbledon' feature 'The World's Greatest Name' I would like to introduce you to Kaia Kanepi. A name that makes her sound like a mini smoked salmon bagel served with a glass of bubbly. Amazing. Stay tuned for more tennis player's amazing names.
In other news and as an addition to yesterday's 'Today at Wimbledon' feature 'The World's Greatest Name' I would like to introduce you to Kaia Kanepi. A name that makes her sound like a mini smoked salmon bagel served with a glass of bubbly. Amazing. Stay tuned for more tennis player's amazing names.
Monday, 24 June 2013
Today at Wimbledon: Day 1. The World's Greatest Name, NEW BALLS PLEASE and Sue Barker's Set.
So, as established in today's earlier post, I love Wimbledon fortnight and not just because of the brilliant tennis. Wimbledon is a brilliant chance for a right laugh too. Over the next two weeks I will be showcasing the lighter side of Wimbledon, (I feel it is best if you read the rest of this like Tony Blackburn reading the chart rundown).
*Wimbledon theme tune plays*
In at number 5 on today's Wimbledon countdown is Sue Barker's hair in Game, brilliant set Mr Hairdresser and match. For me Sue Barker has the most iconic haircut of the 20th and 21st centuries. Thatcher schmatcher, 'The Rachel'...please. Sue has found a style that works and for a woman of her ripening age that is hard. Well done Sue and a commendation to the person who follows you round SW19 with a can of Elnett.
At number 4 it is the greatest name I have ever heard. Coco Candeweghe.
Today dear old Candeweghe was pitted against Petra Kvitova, unfortunately she lost so I will have to wait another while to hear a BBC commentator struggling with the complexities of an (unbelievably) American name. Maybe she's like Lisa Vanderpump from the Real Housewives, with less sass (obviously). Nobody serves, albeit a glass of wine in someone's face, quite like Vanderpump.
Serving for the match at number 3 is the lack of cream for my strawberries tonight.
We had the strawberries but no cream. Somewhere along the line someone forgot to buy some and I didn't feel to keen about using the stuff that went off last week. I couldn't even find any proper sugar, only cubes, so ended up having to grind them up in a makeshift pestle and mortar. Not the classiest start to the Championships.
At number 2 is the re-introduction of the phrase 'New balls please' into my life.
It's always funny, but I see these two weeks as a chance to use 'new balls please' as a response for anything, regardless of situation. Someone drops a plate: NEW BALLS PLEASE! I holler. My Dad says something silly: NEW BALLS PLEASE. It's so versatile.
And finally at number 1 is Murray winning and a shock for Rafa. In an unprecedented move this countdown actually features something to do with tennis. Murray won, hurrah for Britain! And Nadal lost, so again, hurrah for Britain. It's got to that point after the first day where people start to murmur, 'could he do it, really?'
*Wimbledon theme tune plays*
In at number 5 on today's Wimbledon countdown is Sue Barker's hair in Game, brilliant set Mr Hairdresser and match. For me Sue Barker has the most iconic haircut of the 20th and 21st centuries. Thatcher schmatcher, 'The Rachel'...please. Sue has found a style that works and for a woman of her ripening age that is hard. Well done Sue and a commendation to the person who follows you round SW19 with a can of Elnett.
At number 4 it is the greatest name I have ever heard. Coco Candeweghe.
Today dear old Candeweghe was pitted against Petra Kvitova, unfortunately she lost so I will have to wait another while to hear a BBC commentator struggling with the complexities of an (unbelievably) American name. Maybe she's like Lisa Vanderpump from the Real Housewives, with less sass (obviously). Nobody serves, albeit a glass of wine in someone's face, quite like Vanderpump.
Serving for the match at number 3 is the lack of cream for my strawberries tonight.
We had the strawberries but no cream. Somewhere along the line someone forgot to buy some and I didn't feel to keen about using the stuff that went off last week. I couldn't even find any proper sugar, only cubes, so ended up having to grind them up in a makeshift pestle and mortar. Not the classiest start to the Championships.
At number 2 is the re-introduction of the phrase 'New balls please' into my life.
It's always funny, but I see these two weeks as a chance to use 'new balls please' as a response for anything, regardless of situation. Someone drops a plate: NEW BALLS PLEASE! I holler. My Dad says something silly: NEW BALLS PLEASE. It's so versatile.
And finally at number 1 is Murray winning and a shock for Rafa. In an unprecedented move this countdown actually features something to do with tennis. Murray won, hurrah for Britain! And Nadal lost, so again, hurrah for Britain. It's got to that point after the first day where people start to murmur, 'could he do it, really?'
Wimbledon, Weather and Come on Tim.
We all secretly love the British Summer. Moaning about the weather is so ingrained into our national psyche I am pretty sure it is written up as a law somewhere, along with the ones about being able to drive sheep over London Bridge if you are a Lord. As Brits we also love an underdog. You just have to look at Strictly each year. Admittedly it is either our love of an underdog or rather a sadistic part of us that enjoys Anne Widdecome being dragged round a dancefloor, in front of millions, every Saturday night. Let's say underdog. It sounds much more, well, British.
Naturally then the last week in June and the first in July fill this country with something it only gets once a year (because not many of us worry about the weather forecast for Strictly), the chance to root for the underdog and two blissful weeks when we can moan about the weather to our hearts content. Wimbledon. Yes, that great staple of the British Summer. It's two weeks where each and every one of us realises that we are the next Maria Sharapova, Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal and takes to our local tennis court with such gusto that it requires an ice bath, a glass of Pimms and the rest of the fortnight spent camped out on the sofa. These are the best two weeks of the whole Summer. I'm just going to say it.
Even if you hate sport you can love Wimbledon. We can eat strawberries and cream, get afternoon drunk on Pimms, moan that it is too rainy or too hot, cheer Andy Murray and then collectively sigh with relief when he doesn't quite make it because we have already forgotten how to treat a winner, even after last Summer. This next fortnight brings with it the best of the British Summer in one handy two week-sized package so that by the end of it we can pack up the bunting and the Pimms and look forward to a Winter being able to moan, naturally, about the weather. So go forth and enjoy the next two weeks of sitting down, watching other people exercise and remember....COME ON TIM.
Thursday, 20 June 2013
'How To Be A Woman' (Even if you are a Man)
I have been meaning to read Caitlin Moran's 'How To Be A Woman' since it came out. Exams, and general life 'stuff' however put my reading of it on hold but now, after emerging out of the other end of my first year University exams I decided to pick it up.
Now. Let's get one thing clear. I am a Man, so naturally I approached reading a book titled 'How To Be A Woman' with some trepidation. When I told one of my male friends what I was reading post-exams he laughed and said 'don't turn in to one'. This book, however, does not exclude men from it's own branch of feminism. At one point Moran encourages women to stand on a chair and say 'I am a strident Feminist', adding that the men should do this too. And why not, I say? As Moran points out anyone who thinks it was ridiculous that women didn't have the vote, and lets face it that is anyone in their right mind, is a feminist. The word 'feminism' has for far too long been something that has been dirty. Men seemed to have this weird unwillingness to use the word, even if they believed in the movement behind it.
'Opening my cervix opened my 'doors of perception' more than drugs ever did - to be frank, all I learned from Ecstasy was that, if you're caned enough, you can dance on a podium to someone saying 'Time to go home now, ladies and gentlemen' over and over again on a PA.' This embodies the brilliance of Moran's writing. She is, essentially, trying to make feminism (and I use the next word begrudgingly), 'cool'. For too long feminism has been perceived as something that is reserved for a certain group of women. This is obviously not true and Moran is bringing this to the forefront of people's minds with an incredibly witty, truthful and correct book. I urge you all, male or female, to read it.
Caitlin Moran is also well worth following on Twitter, if you aren't already because she does have followers by the KFC bargain bucket load.
Now. Let's get one thing clear. I am a Man, so naturally I approached reading a book titled 'How To Be A Woman' with some trepidation. When I told one of my male friends what I was reading post-exams he laughed and said 'don't turn in to one'. This book, however, does not exclude men from it's own branch of feminism. At one point Moran encourages women to stand on a chair and say 'I am a strident Feminist', adding that the men should do this too. And why not, I say? As Moran points out anyone who thinks it was ridiculous that women didn't have the vote, and lets face it that is anyone in their right mind, is a feminist. The word 'feminism' has for far too long been something that has been dirty. Men seemed to have this weird unwillingness to use the word, even if they believed in the movement behind it.
'Opening my cervix opened my 'doors of perception' more than drugs ever did - to be frank, all I learned from Ecstasy was that, if you're caned enough, you can dance on a podium to someone saying 'Time to go home now, ladies and gentlemen' over and over again on a PA.' This embodies the brilliance of Moran's writing. She is, essentially, trying to make feminism (and I use the next word begrudgingly), 'cool'. For too long feminism has been perceived as something that is reserved for a certain group of women. This is obviously not true and Moran is bringing this to the forefront of people's minds with an incredibly witty, truthful and correct book. I urge you all, male or female, to read it.
Caitlin Moran is also well worth following on Twitter, if you aren't already because she does have followers by the KFC bargain bucket load.
Monday, 20 May 2013
Eurovision 2013. "There was a lot of crotch rubbing and synchronised 'hurry up and get out of the toilet' jiggling"
The white wine haze of Saturday night has now dissipated, so too has the smoke spilling out from the wings in what seemed like every song, the orange glow left behind by the fake tanners has gone and only the annoyingly catchy songs remain in our heads. Eurovision 2013 was the normal gathering of pop-princesses, has-been rock stars and reality show queens.
This year's contest was held in Malmo, Sweden (I'd never heard of it either). From the looks of the advertising and idents during the show the town seems to be overrun with a plague of butterflies. They said that this was all part of the theming and that they represented Europe being united as one but personally I don't believe them.
The show opened with a choir singing this year's Eurovision anthem written by Benny and Bjorn from Abba and Avicii from those dance songs that all sound the same. Benny and Bjorn seemed to write a nice melody which Avicii then added some electro stuff to and there you have it, a Eurovision anthem. As this was unfolding on stage a bridge was lowered from the ceiling. The Swedes seem to be very proud of this bridge. If it was ever to be hosted in the UK would we have the 'wobbly bridge'. I can just picture 27 countries trying to get across it. Whoever does, wins. The acts of the countries participating then processed across the bridge (unfortunately quite a stable one) with their flags. At this point I was having horrific flashbacks of the Olympic Opening Ceremony and being bored by the time the 'B' section started filing in. I quickly reached for my bottle of wine.
At this point we were introduced to our host for the evening Petra Mede. An amazing woman who managed to pull off a couple of stunning outfits throughout the week. In the first semi-final it was silver tin foil. The second, gold tin-foil and finally at the Grand Final we had this beautiful creation. Pink velour with matching high-heeled boots. Amazing.
Finally we moved on to the songs and the actual point of the evening about half an hour in to the show. You always get that feeling from Eurovision, that it is about 2 hours longer than it needs to be.
Here are a few of my highlights:
UKRAINE
Any country that includes a giant in their staging of their song wins in my book. The Ukraine actually hired a man who was well over 7ft to carry their contestant on stage, she was then placed on a rock (don't ask) in the middle of the stage meaning that good old Zlata was the same height as said giant. I'm not entirely sure why this was done, as it was Eurovision it was probably meant to signify peace and unity to all or something but all in all it just provided another opportunity to laugh.
ROMANIA
This will probably be one of the performances from this year's Eurovision that will stick in the minds of all for a long time to come. It was certainly one that will haunt my nightmares for weeks. Cezar is a male opera singer who has the range of a female opera singer. Team that with an outfit not too dissimilar from Dracula's, ballet dancers crawling under red fabric and a dubstep breakdown and you have the perfect Eurovision formula.
FINLAND
I'm not entirely sure what this song was trying to achieve. The singer Krista has been with her boyfriend for 7 years. I think that the lyric of 'WHERE IS MY PROPOSAL?' was probably the biggest hint he will ever get. Another stroke of lyrical genius by the writer of this song was getting someone who speaks English with a think Finnish accent to shout 'For you' over and over again, resulting in many giggles from my group watching Eurovision, believing she was shouting 'Fuck you'. Maybe that's why she got no votes? We did, however, vote for Finland, turns out we were, indeed, the only ones.
BELGIUM
Belgium wins the award for dance routine of the night. If you've ever wondered what two people, forced on to stage and made to dance whilst really needing a wee looked like, look no further than the Belgain performance. There was a lot of crotch rubbing and synchronised 'hurry up and get out of the toilet' jiggling. In fact, I sort of wish I had voted for them too now.
BELARUS
Belarus never fail to disappoint when it comes to Eurovision. This year's offering involved a scantily clad woman jumping out of a revolving disco ball in a neon blue flapper dress. I can't really remember the actual song. Just a lot of jumping. There she is Alyona from Belarus, showing us the best and, really, only way to exit a giant disco ball the next time we find ourselves in that position.
GERMANY
Germany won the award for 'shit is that [insert has-been pop star name here]' moment of the night. By rights that should have belonged to us with dear old Bonnie Tyler but, hey, they got Cascada to scream at us all and stumble around the stage in what looked like a drag outfit. Essentially this year Germany got one member of Cascada (yes there is more than one), to sing what sounded a lot like last year's winning song. Cheeky move Germany.
GREECE
For the past 3 years I have been desperate for Greece to win Eurovision. Not because they have really good music or anything like that, just because I think it would be hilarious for a country to go bankrupt because they won the Eurovision Song Contest. This year's entry was insanely brilliant though. Men in kilts, drummers, fireworks and a lyric most people can really get behind. 'ALCOHOL IS FREE'. Amen to that Greece.
It is unfortunate that the best act of the night was one that we couldn't vote for. I'm sure if we could, however, Petra Mede, the host would have won hands down. 'Mamma Mia, Ikea has gone worldwide, good luck assembling all of those parts' the lyrics went. In one song Petra managed to eclipse the Swedish jokes any commentator could have made throughout the night. There were blondes with plaits, Vikings, the singer was dressed as Cruella De Vil if she worked at Ikea. IT WAS INCREDIBLE. Petra Mede is my new favourite person, I'm moving to Sweden.
So there we have it. Rorie's Eurovision party 2013. See you next year for more wind machine, velour outfits and listening to Graham Norton get progressively more drunk.
This year's contest was held in Malmo, Sweden (I'd never heard of it either). From the looks of the advertising and idents during the show the town seems to be overrun with a plague of butterflies. They said that this was all part of the theming and that they represented Europe being united as one but personally I don't believe them.
At this point we were introduced to our host for the evening Petra Mede. An amazing woman who managed to pull off a couple of stunning outfits throughout the week. In the first semi-final it was silver tin foil. The second, gold tin-foil and finally at the Grand Final we had this beautiful creation. Pink velour with matching high-heeled boots. Amazing.Finally we moved on to the songs and the actual point of the evening about half an hour in to the show. You always get that feeling from Eurovision, that it is about 2 hours longer than it needs to be.
Here are a few of my highlights:
UKRAINE
Any country that includes a giant in their staging of their song wins in my book. The Ukraine actually hired a man who was well over 7ft to carry their contestant on stage, she was then placed on a rock (don't ask) in the middle of the stage meaning that good old Zlata was the same height as said giant. I'm not entirely sure why this was done, as it was Eurovision it was probably meant to signify peace and unity to all or something but all in all it just provided another opportunity to laugh.
ROMANIA
This will probably be one of the performances from this year's Eurovision that will stick in the minds of all for a long time to come. It was certainly one that will haunt my nightmares for weeks. Cezar is a male opera singer who has the range of a female opera singer. Team that with an outfit not too dissimilar from Dracula's, ballet dancers crawling under red fabric and a dubstep breakdown and you have the perfect Eurovision formula.
FINLAND
I'm not entirely sure what this song was trying to achieve. The singer Krista has been with her boyfriend for 7 years. I think that the lyric of 'WHERE IS MY PROPOSAL?' was probably the biggest hint he will ever get. Another stroke of lyrical genius by the writer of this song was getting someone who speaks English with a think Finnish accent to shout 'For you' over and over again, resulting in many giggles from my group watching Eurovision, believing she was shouting 'Fuck you'. Maybe that's why she got no votes? We did, however, vote for Finland, turns out we were, indeed, the only ones.BELGIUM
Belgium wins the award for dance routine of the night. If you've ever wondered what two people, forced on to stage and made to dance whilst really needing a wee looked like, look no further than the Belgain performance. There was a lot of crotch rubbing and synchronised 'hurry up and get out of the toilet' jiggling. In fact, I sort of wish I had voted for them too now.
BELARUS
GERMANY
Germany won the award for 'shit is that [insert has-been pop star name here]' moment of the night. By rights that should have belonged to us with dear old Bonnie Tyler but, hey, they got Cascada to scream at us all and stumble around the stage in what looked like a drag outfit. Essentially this year Germany got one member of Cascada (yes there is more than one), to sing what sounded a lot like last year's winning song. Cheeky move Germany.
GREECE
For the past 3 years I have been desperate for Greece to win Eurovision. Not because they have really good music or anything like that, just because I think it would be hilarious for a country to go bankrupt because they won the Eurovision Song Contest. This year's entry was insanely brilliant though. Men in kilts, drummers, fireworks and a lyric most people can really get behind. 'ALCOHOL IS FREE'. Amen to that Greece.
It is unfortunate that the best act of the night was one that we couldn't vote for. I'm sure if we could, however, Petra Mede, the host would have won hands down. 'Mamma Mia, Ikea has gone worldwide, good luck assembling all of those parts' the lyrics went. In one song Petra managed to eclipse the Swedish jokes any commentator could have made throughout the night. There were blondes with plaits, Vikings, the singer was dressed as Cruella De Vil if she worked at Ikea. IT WAS INCREDIBLE. Petra Mede is my new favourite person, I'm moving to Sweden.
So there we have it. Rorie's Eurovision party 2013. See you next year for more wind machine, velour outfits and listening to Graham Norton get progressively more drunk.
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