Whatever Happened To The News?

Whatever Happened To The News?

Who on earth thinks that is a good idea to have "Dancing" Bill Turnbull front the BBC Breakfast News? He is hardly a classic news anchor, though he does rhyme with one. He is so smug, so smarmy, so uninspiring, so un-serious, so un-witty, so un-fashionable, and, so, so boring. His favourite hobbies are bee keeping and ballroom dancing for chrissake!

He lowers the tone with his un-naturally plucked eyebrows that hint at a grooming regime that is far more stringent than that of his glamorous colleagues (especially Louise Minchin who often looks as if she has just made it in after a very harrowing trip into the office). He lowers the tone with his boring suits and offensive ties. He lowers the tone when attempting, unsuccessfully to conjure witty links between the news stories (I use that term loosely), the weather, the sports report, and those humorous (not) articles they put on about such things as Dancing Dogs at Crufts and the like, or the all-to-frequent blatant advertisements for the BBC’s own programming – Celebrity Strictly Come Dancing, the Apprentice and so on.

Increasingly, they seem to forget to report the news or do so only fleetingly. We are fighting two wars, there is genocide in Darfur, and we are inundated by stories of children pretending to be news reporters, how to make a pancake, obese cats, and Chris Mullin (the sports presenter who is frequently linked with rumours of off-camera nookie with Carol Kirkwood, the weather presenter) in a rather unattractive all-in-one body suit used by Olympic swimmers.

The whole programme would be an absolute nightmare and waste of time if it hadn’t been for the constant distraction of his side-kicks. Like Dr Who, Turnbull comes with his own companion, who is usually an intelligent, easy-on-the-eye, foxy if not sexy female presenter.

The list is extensive, but, I will include it here for no other reason than it will dramatically increase the hits I get, especially from those very sad souls that somehow always find my posts on Cheshire Swingers, or Sleeping With Julia Roberts (see my post on Strange Visitors by way of explanation) with their very obscure search terms.

Sophie Raworth, Natasha Kaplinski (far too much make-up), sporty Kate Silverton, Mishal Husain, and, of course, the dynamic duo which get most men of a certain age going in the morning; the epitome of pint-sized foxiness Susanna Reid (often misspelt in search engines) and Sian Williams. And, not forgetting the glamorous weather girls with which our Bill flirts so furiously: Carol Kirkwood, Helen Willetts, and Louise Lear. Boy, this is going to be my best day ever!

Bill’s colleagues are all smart and professional. They fill in the serious bits when Bill isn’t reminding us that he too appeared in Celebrity Strictly Come Dancing. Presumably he was attracted by the make-up and the flouncy dresses.

Please BBC, Kill Bill! Kick him into touch. Put him out to grass. If it were not for Sian and Susanna it would be nigh on impossible to drag myself out of the bed in the morning. Sometimes it is a relief when I am in a hurry and have to dash to my car and the serious news reporting of the Today programme on Radio 4 John Humphrys is a god! At least they seem to take the news seriously and in depth. What a contrast.

Strange Visitors

Does this describe you?

I seem to get some very strange visitors to my blog. These strange visitors find me through some very weird search engine searches. One of the most common seems to be a double whammy on "swingers" and "caravans". For some reason these phrases are often accompanied by the search term "cheshire" or "north wales". Well, for those of you who came via such a route, you may wish to view my entry Cheshire Swingers..........enjoy!

I am not sure why I am so surprised that swinging is so popular in Cheshire or North Wales. But I am. But, will someone please, please tell me why you do it in caravans?!?

There are other popular searches that seem to find me. Typically these would involve a "kat deeley" or a "julia roberts" or a "kylie" or "suzannah reid" and various spelling derivatives thereof. Now these are all fine looking women and I have had close contact with at least two of them (see "Sleeping With Julia Roberts" and "Planes, Trains and Automobiles Part 6" and I am sure we have all been propositioned by Sarah Lancashire!! But, you would be surprised how often these searches are accompanied by the word "porn" or "naked" or "stockings". Shame on you!

Well, I bet you can't wait until I tell you about the steamy weekend I once passed in a trailer-tent in Staffordshire with Anni-Frid and Agnetha, the babes from Abba........."Abba" is by far and away the single most commonly used search term that finds me. And, I can only remember mentioning them the once (here) but I guess I did so in an article which started with the word "porn". Enjoy.

Oh, and Happy Caravaning!

Sleeping With Julia Roberts.

Sleeping with Julia Roberts

As well as my sexual encounter with Sarah Lancashire on a Virgin train ;), I have slept with Julia Roberts. Well, actually I have slept next to Julia Roberts. Well, next door to her to be precise. I was staying at the Sheraton Hotel at Paris Airport on a tedious work thing which lasted three or four days. Julia was making a film in the hotel. She was co-starring with Antonio Banderas. I am not sure that it ever made it to the movies or even to DVD because I have not been able to find any reference to it in either of their filmographies or on the shelves at Blockbuster. Nevertheless, I slept in the room next to Julia.

She was beautiful and surprisingly petite. I got within six feet of her at one point (!) when they were filming on the landing outside of our rooms. She smiled at me. Only me. She was waiting to be filmed while we were watching them filming one of the other female stars being thrown over the balcony.

There was quite some disruption in the hotel during the filming. It was really quite exciting. For example, most of the time, the guest lift was not working and we had to use the service lift and walk through the kitchens and other “secret” areas of the hotel to get to reception. Walking through the kitchen made me feel a little bit like a US president en route to being assassinated – well, in the movies it always seems to happen that way doesn’t it? They go through the kitchen and they get shot by the mafia guy along with some small Mexican waiter that is living the American dream.

Lifts (elevators for our American cousins) seemed to figure heavily in the film as well. For about an hour I watched them try to film some “famous” French actor, that I have never heard of and never seen in any film, enter the hotel The idea seems to have been that he would walk into the hotel, walk to the lifts, enter the lifts, and presumably go upstairs and throw a woman off the balcony. Simple. Except that, in the world of Hollywood, it seems actors are not allowed to press the button to call a lift or to wait for it to arrive. For a whole hour they were trying to time it so that someone would push the lift call button off camera, so that the actor would arrive in front of the lift just as the doors would slide open. They hadn’t managed it after an hour and I got bored and went and did some work. In any case Julia was not there to distract me. My little American Tinkerbell.

Julia sent a bottle of champagne to my room to apologise for the noise and disruption. I thought that that was very nice of her. I waited in my room hoping that she would knock my door and share a glass or two with me. Unfortunately she didn’t. I didn’t hear her in her room that night. And, believe me, I listened. I listened hard. And, it came as a huge disappointment when I found out the following morning that Julia (or at least her staff) had sent a bottle of champagne to everyone on the landing. And, I thought that I had been special. Sigh.

This is the closest that I have come so far to a real “A-list” celebrity. To a real star. There have been many minor celebrities along the way (see earlier posting). And, on one occasion I got a little closer than was comfortable. Julian Cope checked me out in the urinals of the village hall in Portree on the Isle of Skye. C and I went to Skye on our first ever holiday together. We got engaged while we were there. But, imagine our surprise when we discovered that Julian Cope was performing at the local village hall. He was doing a tour of the Inner Hebrides. Clearly the residents of Skye had never heard of him. Well, it was 1992 and the Teardrop Explodes was more of an ‘80s thing. We were joined in the village hall by maybe six or seven other people. Julian was stoned. I am not sure that he had a clue where he was. He was off his head. But he belted them out and the world shut its mouth. I went to the loo at a half-time break. Julian followed. He chose the urinal next to me. I am sure he checked me out. Now, if only Julia Roberts had got so close……