Why I am the web's leading expert on big ear holes and Madonna's eyebrows

I got a comment this week from a blog post I wrote almost a year ago, but it didn't surprise me because I am the web's leading expert on big ear holes and Madonna's eyebrows. It's official. I have Google Analytics statistics to back it up. Listen, it's not like I'm constantly checking to see if my imaginary readership has increased from 6 people spending 12 seconds deciding they're on the wrong page - to 8 people who have used the search term "La Ciccolina + horse" but...

And yes, I know that by retyping that phrase I'm going to bring even more of them here. Hello horse fans!!! Sorry to disappoint you, but hey, stick around, there's more to life than horses, right?

The thing is, what Google Analytics tells me is that on average, every month for the past 11 months 25% of this blog's random new "readers" have landed on that Big Ear Holes post. Another 11% have come searching for more scientific and sensible information about Madonna's eyebrows. About 7% are concerned to find out if Daniel Corbett is gay, but I'll say no more about that. The owner of a renouned Corbett blog assures that he isn't. So basically, if I want to find a bigger readership I need to concentrate my whiney words on body parts, the sexuality of celebrities, horses, and celebrities body parts. The market rules. Expect forthcoming posts on the beauty of Terry Wogan's comb-over, Lady GaGa's extra bit, Madonna's veiny arms, and then an extra bit of grumpy-old-mannery grouchiness about how young people are wrong in a thousand ways especially with regard to beards and shaving. When did these young liberal types all start growing beards that they're too young to have grown in the first place? When did other men start shaving their bits (and their bobs)? When did that fashion note go out? Weren't they really pleased when puberty happened? Do the young beard wearers of today shave their bits and bobs? How odd would that be? Like they'd been forcibly dipped in Immac from the waist down.

There you go. Watch em roll in, then roll back out again disappointed... Pershaw and fie and a pox on the lot of em. So because I am moving house this coming weekend and shouldn't even be on the web, and because my phone line gets disconnected today or tomorrow, and because of all of the above, I thought I would do my first ever 're-post'. First off, here is what an Anonymous reader commented this week and then the ear hole postage yet again.

Imagine the stats!!! I may as well delete every other post. It's all about the ear holes, baby. Sigh. 

Anonymous said... 

to be honest, i think you have all the right points, especially about the ear lobe flesh things, i object to them. however youths will be youths, we feel the need to be different. hence the dressing up as 'emos' we are merely copying the looks of the members of the bands that we love to listen to. fashion changes, always will. tattoos, well yes they will get slightly mankier, but when your 80, who is going to see your tattoes anyway, most 80 year olds stay in there homes, probably afraid of the next 30 generations of teenagers, be them emos or chavs. 
from a kid, who is friendly.

REPOSTERY of AN OLD POST

Now don't get me wrong, kids. You youthful types are great.

I love you all, in strictly non-touchy no-feely kinda way, of course. All above board. All theoretical this is. Now then, let me start again.

You can come in here (my imaginary house) with your tattoos and your sticky-uppy hair. Fine. I accept that. You can be an Emo if you like. An emo is just an experiment between a Goth and a New Romantic that went wrong and came out extra-skinny (or extra-chunky depending on how badly wrong the wardrobe based experiment went). Skin tight black jeans (Jim Morrison). Dyed hair (New Wave). Miserable as sin (Holden Caulfield). Yeah. I get ya. You can't put anything past me.

That goes for you lot as well in your do-rags, your hoods, your baggy saggy jeans hangin round your ankles cos you're not allowed to have a belt in the pen. Uh? Huh? Ayt? Hood up to prevent identification by CCTV. O yeh. It's Big Brother time out there - on da street. Up your ends. In ya hood wearin a hood.

*It's all good.*

I get it. Every year I get it like I get a persistently dribbly nose and a bit of a head cold every February. I get da youth fashion. It's not for me, of course it isn't. I actually tried on a pair of straight leg jeans in *The Gap*. Yeh, that's right - the shop that shows my age. And a style of jeans that showed the thickness of my Bobby Charlton/Chris Hoy style thighs. Hey - it's all muscle, baby. My body fat is as low as a Tesco's *Be Good To Yourself* chicken thigh. My thighs are just skin, hair and meat. Yummy.

So. To reiterate - the tatts - surely the worst thing you could do to yourself in this day and age, right?

If we don't count stubbing out cigarettes on your eyelids for a bet, random knife-based self-harming, or wearing a Scouting For Girls tour t-shirt.



Tattooing the name of your cat on your wrist has to be something that is going to upset your parents, doesn't it?

That is if your parents didn't go into the parlour with you to have all the names of their grandchildren stabbed n inked all over their lower back. And if they did? Fine. I'm all in favour of random, squiggly ink splots daubed on unimpressive bodies. Gives you something to look at. Especially when they're stood in front of you in a bus queue on a summer's day and you're trying to read the words on their upper arm. Does that say *Man Love Forever* or *Man U Four Everton Nil*. Probably neither and a crap example either way.



Most people get pictures. Of Harry Potter. Of their kids. Of Chairman Mao. Of a fish. A dancing lady - I saw a guy of about 23 with a naked lap-dancer on his forearm - I really did want to question that one - who was that going to impress - but then I realised it was probably a masturbatory aid for if he should ever end up stranded, alone on a desert island. Heaven forbid that he'd have to end up using his dirty imagination...



O, that made me feel superior for many minutes. Me and my unblemished epidermis - unblemished apart from the acne & chicken pox scars, the scars from cuts & operations, the birth marks, moles and random everyday blemishes.

I don't have much deliberate skin damage/decoration. And it almost makes me feel weedy and jealous of their bravery in re-designing their genetically ordained skin coverings. Why should we put up with looking the way *God* has designed us?

So I don't rule out the option of one day tatting up my epidermis. Should I ever find a design that I like, a tattoo artist I could trust & a body part suitable for drawing on.

Note: having a hairy chest kinda rules that area out of the equation right? I could of course shave my chest, have a bald ape tattooed onto my left pectoral, then let the hair grow back and see how the ape looks then. Like Bigfoot the Yeti hiding in a forest of hair... Yeah, and true, that was an image we could have all done with out...

But ear holes have done me in. Brought on an early (?) mid-life crisis.

You got me youts, you really got me. I don't dig em. I am genuinely freaked out by em. I'll be honest as an onion.

See, from a sensible adult point of view - hair you can change - tatts - provided you don't get a spider's web tattooed on your neck - you can cover em up. Should you ever wish to get a job as an accountant or become Prime Minister. But big ear holes - and I should define my point here. Provide a photo - here - or there - depending where the html sends it. That photo, that you can see - there. Forcing the earlobe to accomodate a big ole frisbee shaped object d'art/d'fashion.

What happens when you take em out, kids? These Ear Spacers? Are they gonna seal back up? Or are you gonna look like you've got massive wonky ear lobs hangin down with a big black hole in the space where the skin is pulled apart.

So okay, fine, it's a *flesh tunnel*. How helpful is the internet - you can find stuff even when you don't know what it's called...

That's what freaks me out, to be honest. And that is what proves how oldy fashionedy I am. How square and non-fash I am. You can't be a weekend punk once you've got one of these, like herpes, these babies are yours for life.

What next: ear shaping? Ear cropping/pointing/elfing?

Fine. By the time you're my age you'll have saggy, baggy, holey ear bottoms - and I hope you'll enjoy them. As much as the people of my age with bad Winnie the Poo tattoos on their ankles, or who have ineptly drawn barbed wire round their biceps love their youthful lifetime decisions. Fine. Just fine. Just don't come running to me. Cos I'll be the 80 year old codger with earlobes as big as a garden gnomes - but that'll be the process of ageing, not some crazy youthful design.

But thinking about it - maybe when I'm 80 I'll have nothing to lose. Maybe that's when I'll get a big pair of frisbee sized ear-rings...

Why Roy Keane taught me everything I need to know about Englishness, but thanks for the email anyway

Oh, email forwards, aren't they great? They're usually jokes and pictures of horrible things for you to laugh at. I remember at work some hilarious person was sending round about twenty photos of 'unattractive' naked ladies. And it was Friday afternoon and one chap found it so funny that he immediately had to forward it on to all his mates in the company.

Unfortunately when he went into the 'Choose Address' bit of Microsoft Outlook - he chose 'Harrison, Angela' instead of 'Harrison, Darren' and sent the lovely photos to the HR Director. He realised 10 minutes later and spent the last hour of his employment trying to cancel the mail. There were frantic phonecalls to the IT department. It was a pathetic little tragedy, but it was the most amusing 'Email Forward' based incident I can remember. Usually they provoke a groan or you just want to instantly press delete. Heaven help us if everyone starts replying and you come back to your desk to find 58 RE:RE:RE:RE:FW emails.... Ha ha not very ha ha...

Which brings me to this 'Subject: FW: England' - received a few days back and initially ignored. But thought about while I was wanting to go to sleep so I had to get up and reply. An ex-work colleague sent it & I'm afraid I'm back on my England/Britain High Horse again. This new England thing is going from strength to strength. But in the hope that someone might receive this FW: England thing as an email and want to check a few of the 'facts' included - I'm just going to post the email and my reply, feel free to lose the will to live at any stage ...

From: Pxxx Mxxxxxx 
To: a big open list of people
Subject: FW: England

England my England  
 
Goodbye to my England, So long my old friend 
Your days are numbered, being brought to an end 
To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that's fine 
But don't say you're English, that's way out of line. 
 
The French and the Germans may call themselves such
So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch
You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane
But don't say you're English ever again. 
 
At Broadcasting House the word is taboo
In Brussels it's scrapped, in Parliament too
Even schools are affected. Staff do as they're told 
They must not teach children about England of old.
   
Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw
The pupils don't learn about them anymore
How about Agincourt, Hastings , Arnhem or Mons ?
When England lost hosts of her very brave sons. 
 
We are not Europeans, how can we be? 
Europe is miles away, over the sea 
We're the English from England, let's all be proud 
Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud! 
 
 
Let's tell our Government and Brussels too 
We're proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue 
Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack
Let the world know - WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK !!!!
   
If you are English, pass it on please.

xxxx - And so I climbed on my 'high horse' and replied

Yo Pxxxx
 
(Friendly bantery opening)
 
I have to admit I was going to delete this message after I'd read it cos I thought, hmmm, I'm not sure this is entirely truthful, but then I thought, no, no one else is going to bother to question it. And it disturbed me. It disturbs me that there's a lot of untruth in it and yet the tone of it is to encourage English people to feel oppressed and angry about how they're not allowed to be English. And that's a bit daft on one level - of course we're allowed to be English - but it's also a bit sinister, as it's exactly the kind of thing that the BNP like to encourage. And I get offended that these extremely right-wing people think that they're more patriotic than me. Especially when they don't know a great deal about English history, English Literature - or even life in England today. So just bear with me while I point out a few mistakes in this poem.
 
1. You're not allowed to be English or talk about being English on the BBC? The question is do we even need to say 'we're English'? You turn on the radio in the morning and it doesn't matter what channel you choose and you're going to hear John Humphreys or Chris Moyles - they couldn't be more English. They don't have to wear an England shirt to be any more English. The news today was about the Chief Medical officer of England's views on swine flu (we have a separate body to Wales & Scotland), there was also stuff about the England (and Wales) Cricket team. And the rain. It was all very English. Like Test Match Special - could those public school boys be any more English? They talk all day about rain and cake and cricket - that's England. Or a certain section of it at least. Personally I visit the bbc news website every day - it breaks down from World news, to UK, to England, to Manchester. That works for me. And we do have St Georges' Day, I'd personally prefer to see it celebrated more widely, but whilst Manchester city centre is chock full of shaven headed lads in England shirts - as it was this year - it puts people off. We need to grab that aggressive patriotism off the louts, but that's just my opinion.
 
2. No English authors? Really? Have they looked at the English & History GCSE curriculum recently? Shakespeare's compulsary at English GCSE, whether the students like it or not. I could add a few more English poets - and generally you can throw in George Orwell as well. So really? that's nonsense. Milton doesn't get taught much at that level, I'll admit, but then, Paradise Lost is a little too complex. As for George Bernard Shaw, well, that's just amusing - he's as Irish as Roy Keane. Shaw was born in Dublin, so I'm not quite sure what the point is including him on the list. Perhaps he just rhymed and they forgot to look him up in Wikipedia. That's a bit sad.
 
3. History GCSE - yeah, well it's always difficult to separate English and British history isn't it. Look at the Tudors - they're studied as part of the National Curriculum - James 1st of England (6th of Scotland) was a big supporter of Shakespeare - that's one reason why Shakespeare wrote the 'Scottish play' Macbeth. Elizabeth 1st was less enamoured with Shakespeare - but then she didn't like Catholics, Scots or her cousin, Mary (Queen of Scots) who she had arrested then executed for treason. Pupils learn about that at school - English, Scots, Irish, Welsh - and usually French - history is all intertwined. Look at the first World War - that's another line that takes my breath away. The one about Arnhem & Mons. That's an England vs Germany battle now is it? Is it no longer the British army? Really, that makes you sick to the stomach just a week after 8 soldiers from the Welsh Guards were brought home dead from Afghanistan. I'm guessing they were comfortable in being patriotically Welsh and British soldiers. But it would be disgusting to forget about them or the Canadians or Polish who fought in those battles. That's the line that really made me write this. It's sickeningly stupid, more unforgiveable than not even caring or knowing who George Bernard Shaw was. I can understand that - Shaw rhymes with 'anymore'. Very clever.
 
There's always been a confusion between England and Britain - Americans are the same - we all use one for the other - it's sometimes hard to know - life is easier if you're Welsh cos you know you're Welsh - there's no confusion there - Welsh and British. We shouldn't be ashamed to be English. I'm not. We can be British (and fly the Union Flag) and also English (and fly the St George's Cross). Of course the author of this poem doesn't seem to know the difference, but then, I think we've established that they haven't done their research. It's a nasty, stupid poem - and patriotic English men and women deserve better. Fortunately a great English poet has already done the job: William Blake's Jerusalem. Surely this should be the English National Anthem? The Queen might be the monarch of the Commonwealth but we deserve our own anthem - what better than this paen to England's green and pleasant land?
 
"Jerusalem"
 
  And did those feet in ancient time
  Walk upon England's mountains green?
  And was the holy Lamb of God
  On England's pleasant pastures seen?
  And did the Countenance Divine
  Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
  And was Jerusalem builded here
  Among those dark Satanic mills?
 
  Bring me my bow of burning gold:
  Bring me my arrows of desire:
  Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold!
  Bring me my chariot of fire!
  I will not cease from mental fight,
  Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
  Till we have built Jerusalem
  In England's green and pleasant land.
 
well there you go, I'm not sure if you'll ever reach this far down but I had to have my say. It hurts me that some people might just superficially flick through that nasty piece of trash and feel a sense of anger and bitterness about England. There are good reasons to be angry about this country - genuine problems - and I fear that this sort of tripe will just make things worse.
 
anyway, have a splendid day!
 
Mark

Well that was all very long winded, pious, egotistical and bla bla, but such is life. As I've said before (on St George's Day) my feeling is that a) I won't allow these right-wing horrible people to claim patriotism as their own & b) We just need to chill out about Englishness. We just are. We're not oppressed. All around the world everyone speaks English & listens to British music. We're winning (if you wanna look at that way).

I've just been reading Roy Keane's autobiography and I came across this passage that distills his thoughts about Irishness & I thought, yeah, replace the word Irish with the nationality of your choice and that would sum up my feelings on the matter...

"The story ran that I didn't care about playing for my country. It wasn't true ... I loved Ireland, it was my home, and home to my closest friends and family. I deeply resented this, I'm more Irish than the Irish thing, the patriotic fraud that hung around the Irish team. The bullshitters in the squad were clever about wearing their Irishness like a badge of honour. The super-Irishmen, fucking bluffers and PR men who pandered to the media and the fans as if they'd invented being Irish. Wasn't it obvious I was Irish? From Mayfield in Cork. I didn't need lessons in Irishness. I was Irish."  Keane p.247

Why someone needs to do the young Miss Marple

It's the in thing these days in the film & tv world - origins stories. So we've had Batman Begining, Superman when he lived in a Smallville and now Alien Origins - Ridley Scott has signed up to make a film about how that alien ended up on a space ship in the first place. Smashing. Well he's a good director and it's a decent plot so why not.

The 'industry' loves nothing better than using a pre-existing character in a new film - thus there's so many reinventions of cartoon superhero characters or there's the reinvented, rebooted James Bond. And ages and ages ago there was the young Indiana Jones & the young Sherlock Holmes. The idea is the audience already has some knowledge of the character so they'll empathise & be interested to know more. Although Indiana Jones & Sherlock Holmes are both pretty annoying young chaps - always getting into adventures and being successful in a slightly smug way.

Anyway, I thought I would come up with some ideas to send to the tv companies to reboot & re-invent some existing franchise characters.

Young Miss Marple's Adventures - Ahhh, see, just writing that title makes me think that this has to be a p0rn film. It sounds like some smutty filth from the 1970s, but maybe that's just my sick and twisted mind...

The Miss Marple we know is obviously a highly successful amateur detective, bicycle rider, hat wearer and slightly constipated born-again virgin. But what was the young Miss Marple like? How did she get so buttoned up and disapproving of fun and jollity? Was she always like that or did she have an unfortunate happenstance that changed her forever? 

I like to think so. I like to think that the niave young Miss Marple was already showing her detective skills finding books in the British Library (see highly accurate photos for illustrative purposes only). The show itself would concern a dashing young Belgian chap called Hercule with whom Miss Marple is having an on-off torrid affair. He is a tyro private detective but in the sexist world of 1930s London he is dismissive of young Miss Marple's suggestions of who murdered Lord Archibald in the drawing room. He suggests she sticks to what she knows: finding first edition copies of 'Flyfishing' by J.R. Hartley. Then in episode 3, Hercule announces that he is leaving her for a man called Roger Ackroyd. Hercule has finally come to terms with his incipient gayosity. Miss Marple, like an idiot, blames herself. She wonders why she fell for Hercule in the first place and why he was attracted to her if he liked men. She is heartbroken and utterly confused. After a brief period working as a lap dancer in Soho (*check for period accuracy*) she decides to defy convention and set herself up as a young celibate cycling detective.

I think I can sell that one to Channel 5.

Morph: the plasticine years - Morph the dancing, morphing, lump of plasticine who starred as artist Tony Hart's little sidekick for so many years is a character that really should not be lost to TV. Just because Tony Hart got very old and then died, doesn't mean that Morph should retire as well. He is ripe for re-invention. Here is my proposal:

It's a philosophical conundrum similar to the Big Bang Theory. It's about Morph's pre-existence - his essence exists in a tub of plasticine but he hasn't been fully formed yet. Visually it's a bit dull. It's just a tub of plasticine - but it's a tub of plasticine that asks lots of questions about the nature of reality and potentiality.

Predestination - all of that. A ten minute film of a tub of plasticine. Hmmm. We could lively it up a bit by letting some talentless child play with the plasticine - forming a sort of Neanderthal Morph... (see mock-up photo created by talented young sculptor).

I think I will enter this film into the Turner Prize.

Jeremy Kyle - Schoolboy Twat

Ahhh, the lovely JK. Tormentor of the hopeless plebs, constantly berating them for being jobless, feckless, dribbling twonks with 12 children each before they are old enough to vote. Talk about an unfair contest, Jeremy. Try shouting at Richard Dawkins or a Fox tv host and see how far you get. Anyway...

Jeremy Kyle is a friendless schoolboy in 1980s Britain. Everyone thinks he's a tosser and bullies him mercilessly. I am going to star in this adaptation as his biology teacher.

Biology Teacher: "Has everyone completed their homework? Do you all have your results for the DNA test? Jeremy Kyle, you snivelling little snot bucket, do you have your DNA test results?"

Then we'll have a bully sitting behind little Jeremy flicking him with a ruler and spitting bits of wet paper at the back of his head. Meanwhile in his voiceover Jeremy fulminates about the scruffy kids at the back of the class. He sneers at their young smoking parents. He is sickened by Jenny Snodgrass as she snogs all the boys in the class except for him.

In the showers young Jeremy worries about the size and inadequacy of his penis. As do the rest of his classmates who point and laugh at him.

Jeremy Kyle vows to have his revenge. And like so many serial killers & serial twatheads from history - he will.

I think I can sell this idea to Jeremy Kyle's production company. If he doesn't buy it then I will make it into a low budget feature film.