Category: Music & Dance

Eurovision Helps the Aged

After the epic drama of yesterday’s post, I give you something light and frothy. Eurovision fever has come early this year. Armenia has withdrawn from the competition because of a problem with the Azeris (all about the frozen dispute of Nagorno-Karabakh), the Russians will be represented by a group of grannies called, er, The Grannies and Blighty has chosen our very home-grown wrinkly in the form of Engelbert Humperdinck, 75 years young. And why not? It gets camper every year and we love it.

The Turkish entry was selected last month. No doubt it was an instant hit right across the smoky salons of this wintry land. Zimmerless Can Bonomo (that’s Jan Bonomo to non-Turkish speaking pansy fans – C is a hard J in Turkish) will be bouncing about the stage in Baku, the Azeri capital, to the beat of his energetic ditty, Love Me Back. It’s in English (well, Globalish) and features a gypsy riff. The jury’s out on whether jumping Jan will make it through the semis. What do you think?

Eurovision trivia – In the history of its involvement, Turkey has awarded the most points to the UK and received the most points from Germany. I didn’t think anyone voted for Blighty these days.

Adele Cut Down at the Brits

We watched the Brits. Naturally, Adele won best female artist and best album. She’s the most successful singer to emerge from Blighty in years. It’s a pity the show’s producers saw fit to interrupt her acceptance speech which was cut down to just a few hasty words. Now, I’m not into the Hollywood gush but a few rushed ‘thank yous’? Presumably the programme was over-running. So what? Let it overrun.

It Gets Better

I’m back on my soap box again. Think of me as resident ranter at Speaker’s Corner on a Sunday afternoon. I’m rapidly becoming a single issue bar-room bore. The mast I’ve nailed my colours to is homophobic bullying in schools. It’s not clever, it’s not on, it must stop. I’ve banged on about this tishoo ishoo a couple of times now – the tragic death of Jamey Roddemeyer and the inspirational Stand Up and be Counted video. Now I give you It Does Get Better by the L Project. The It Gets Better campaign began across the pond and has now invaded Blighty’s shores. The L Project (that’s L for Lesbian by the way) is a group of lovely lasses who’ve come together (forgive the pun) to highlight the plight of the young through the medium of music. They’re fabulous and so is their song. It’s become a hit. There aren’t many countries in the world where a track with such an overt message would catch the popular imagination. Watch it here and watch it right ‘til the end. You might even cry. And If you like it why not buy it?

Whitney Houston, RIP

RIP

Another prodigious talent wrecked by addiction. No doubt the internet is awash with tasteless jokes and serves-her-right statements. Whitney Houston’s slow descent into hell was a media circus that picked over the bones of her catastrophic life. Some people seem to take pleasure in it. According to Guinness World Records she was the most awarded female artist of all time.

Ms Houston once said:

“I finally faced the fact that it isn’t a crime not having friends. Being alone means you have fewer problems.”

I wasn’t a great fan though I really liked the ‘My Love is Your Love’ album and this is my favourite track.

Review of the Year, 2011

Happy New Year to pansy fans one and all from a stormy, rain-sodden Bodrum. In the best tradition of the New Year and all those cheap-to-make review and top ten TV compilations I give you:

Perking the Pansies Top Ten 2011

An eclectic mix of the mad, the glad, the sad and the bad, the old, the bold, the sold and the gold. It’s interesting how few of these posts are actually related to expats directly. The list represents around 20% of all hits to Perking the Pansies (out of about 500 posts). Fancy that.

  1. Amy Winehouse, RIP
  2. Now, That’s What I Call Old
  3. Are We Mad?
  4. Pussy Galore
  5. Gay Marriage in New York
  6. Expat Glossary
  7. Publish and Be Damned
  8. There’s Hope for Us All
  9. Happy Birthday Perking the Pansies
  10. Sisters Are Doing it for Themselves

I wonder what 2012 has in store?

This is in store right now.

All I Want for Christmas

I’m taking a festive break from this blogging lark. I’m knackered. Normal services will be resumed in the New Year (unless there’s a book crisis). Peace and goodwill to all pansy fans whoever and wherever you are. Revel in your drunken parties, one night stands, quality time with lovers, partners, family and friends or just have fun shutting the wicked world out to curl up on a sofa with a good book, a good bottle or a good DVD. Whatever Christmas means to you, enjoy.

Meanwhile, somewhere on the high seas, the crew of the HMS Ocean found out they would all be home for Christmas after 214 days at sea. They just had to celebrate, sometimes shirtless.

Cue the festive video from our brave jolly Jack Tars. There’s a couple of jolly Jackies too (though not topless, obviously).

Check out my book

Miracle Child

At the virginal age of 18, Liam moved from the Smoke to South Wales to study for his music degree at Cardiff University. He stayed in Wales for 15 years. Having paid £5 to get in across the Severn Bridge, he wanted his money’s worth. The Principality has a rich history of musical excellence and this rubbed off on the young Liam. During his long exile in the Valleys, he lost his virtue and used his mouth and hands to creative effect on oboe and ivory. He sought satisfaction for his creative juices and found it with the Mountain Ash and District Choral Society who commissioned him to compose Christmas carols. Eventually, he hitched up his skirt and waded across Offa’s Dyke to return like the Prodigal Son to the bosom of his family. Liam’s never quite forgotten those halcyon days of quavers and choirs. Even today, his long-past association with these talented people brings a tear to his eye and joy to his heart. Imagine his pleasure and surprise when, two decades on, he discovered that they are once again performing one of his 20th Century pieces at a 2011 Christmas service. It’s made his year.

As it’s that Christmas time of year again, I give you Miracle Child for your festive entertainment. It’s a bit ropey as it was recorded on an old cassette recorder at the back of the hall. Hey, it beats the hell out of Slade on a continuous loop.

Miracle Child

The book

X Factor Final

We watched the X Factor final from Wembley Arena. Polished production, big numbers, slick performances (but too many advert breaks). Commercial, manufactured bubble gum pop? Certainly. Fun and entertaining? Absolutely. Liam’s a huge fan. My first visit to the arena was way back in 1974 (I think) to watch Alice Cooper perform his Welcome to My Nightmare show. It was fabulous. I’m a huge fan.

Out and Proud

Little Mix won. I’m sure they’ll do well. Personally, I was rooting for Marcus Collins. I’m not saying this because he’s a member of the brethren. I’m saying this because he’s a charming young man and a great entertainer who I suspect will outlive the usual fifteen minutes of fame. Marcus makes no secret of his sexuality. He’s out and proud. He has a boyfriend and is a fantastic role model for young gay men. It’s no big deal to anyone except, perhaps, to the producers of the show as it was never mentioned. X Factor exploits the back stories of the contestants. It’s part of the formula. They interviewed his loving family, his best friend, even the Lord Mayor of Liverpool got a look in. Where was the boyfriend? Maybe he didn’t want be exposed. If so, that’s fine. If not, that’s not fine.

Check out my book

Will the Real Jack Scott Please Stand Up?

Google sits astride the internet like a leviathan. Forget Yahoo or Bing or a host of smaller search engines, only Google counts. Their search algorithms can make or break an online presence. If you don’t show up in the first few pages of Google, you may as well not be on the internet at all. It’s all about search engine optimisation (SEO) and ways to make it better. There’s an entire industry dedicated to improving it (or trying to cheat the clever geeks at Google). How’s a humble little jobbing blogger in a faraway country most people couldn’t place on a map ever going to make his mark? Well, Perking the Pansies does well. Google favours fresh, frequently renewed content and my content is frequently renewed, if not fresh. Sorted.

1923 -2008

Little Jack Scott, though, struggles. The name is a curse. It’s eclipsed by other more illustrious Jacks plastered all over the web. Who are these pretenders to my rightful throne? Well, there’s Jack Scott, (AKA Giovanni Dominico Scafone Jr) the Canadian singer ‘undeniably the greatest Canadian rock and roll singer of all time,’ apparently. I’d never heard of him. Sorry. Then there’s the late Jack Scott, buck-teethed weather man who died in 2008. He was everyone’s favourite weather guru and brought magnetic weather symbols to live broadcasts on the BBC. Unfortunately, they often slipped down the board or dropped off altogether. My final Jack is the now infamous Mayor of the little town of Cordova in Alabama which was flattened by killer tornadoes earlier this year. Mayor Scott refused to allow trailers into the town to house the newly homeless because he didn’t want to encourage trailer trash. Sounds like a fine and upstanding pillar of the community.

So, what’s a diminutive, washed-up ex pretty boy with his best years behind him to do? Change his name to Dick Stillhard (no wait, that’s already taken).

Thanks to Spainstruck for the inspiration for this one.

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The Demon Drink

We’ve finally managed to collate all the incriminating photographic evidence of our wicked trip to Bordeaux back in September to celebrate the half century of Blighty life friend, Ian. Liam has produced a timely public heath broadcast about the evils of alcohol. A sorry collection of over-the-hill so-called fine and upstanding members of society (well, except for the birthday boy who runs a sex shop in Soho), strutting their drunken stuff in an isolated French farm house is a pathetic spectacle. It’s enough to put you off your pink gin. Listen up kids, in Nancy Reagan’s immortal words, ‘Just say no.’

We had a ball.

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