2013 in Review

Perking the Pansies recovered from a difficult birth at the murderous hands of the Turkish censors, thrived through the terrible twos and survived the transitional threes, ending the year with 60,000 hits for the last twelve months. Thank you to everyone and anyone who’s passed by and glanced at my random witterings. Most blogs burn out after two years so I must be living on borrowed time.

As the sun sets on 2013, in the best Hogmanay tradition, I give you the year’s top ten – a pick ‘n’mix treat of bum cleavage, Turks at the barricades, a shot in the arm, a tender coming out story, a sexy rugger bugger, a book to send you to sleep, an old-time boozer, an olive tree planted in a foreign field and a scratched itch.

Plumber’s Bum

It was the picture wot won it.

Turkey Troubles

A revolution in the making?

Tom Daley: Something I Want to Say

Saying it before someone said it for him.

Gareth Thomas, Dancing on Ice Drama

Who said ice-prancing rugger buggers can’t read?

Life in the Old Blog Yet

With thanks to the nice people at WordPress who featured me on one of their big hitting sites.

Turkey, Surviving the Expats – Out Now!

Keeping me out the workhouse.

God Save the Queen’s Head

A Chelsea classic and old watering hole of mine.

From Little Acorns...

A small corner of Turkey that is forever John.

Seven Year Itch

A soppy tale from Liam.

Turkey, Who Will Blink First?

And we all know who did in the end, don’t we?

For some inexplicable reason, this was the most popular image of 2013, featured in Let’s Hear it for the Brides.

Nine Elms
The Thames at Nine Elms

And I shouldn’t forget the perennial favourites from previous years that keep coming back again and again like a bad case of thrush.

Gran Canaria Sex Emporium

Proving that ‘sex’ really is the most searched for word on Google.

Now That’s What I Call Old

A humble little post about a spectacular discovery in eastern Turkey that just keeps on giving while the archaeologists keep on digging  – 8,000 hits and climbing. Who would have thought?

Expat Glossary

Oft quoted and oft plagiarised (and not always with a credit, tut tut)

Goodbye to the Turkish Living Forum

The few spoiling it for the many. A real shame.

Turkey Street RecliningAnd what of 2014? All I know is that Turkey Street, Jack and Liam move to Bodrum will be out early in the year. Will it be as successful as the first one? Who knows? Not me. Whatever happens, come rain or shine, a happy and prosperous year to all my pansy fans. Thank you for staying the course and for your remarkable support. I’m touched but then, I have been for years.

Behind the Candelabra – Venereal Warts and All

Behind the Candelabra – Venereal Warts and All

Behind the CandelabraI’m old enough to have caught the tail-end of Liberace’s long and very successful career as pianist to ladies of a certain age. Despite being the most outrageous old queen in the business and the rampant tittle-tattle about his bawdy private life, Liberace got away it by suing the arse off anyone who told tales out of school and playing the I-just-haven’t-found-the-right-girl tune to his myopic fans. Back in the day, it was easier to maintain the lie. If he was still alive and tinkling, the Twitter generation and the red tops would have a field day, particularly as Walt loved to play fast and loose with his reputation by buggering the boys in back rooms. So, with a sparkling set of reviews, we anticipated the Liberace biopic ‘Behind the Candelabra‘ with some relish. Was the film worth the hype? Well, yes and no. Michael Douglas as the rhinestone peacock was superb. He deserves an Oscar but won’t get one as the film was made-for-TV by HBO in the States (though he will qualify for a BAFTA here in old Blighty). Matt Damon as the young lover sported a suitably rabbit-in-headlights look and Rob Lowe almost stole the show as a deliciously wicked pill-pushing plastic surgeon who’d been under the knife once too often himself. The film caught the gas-guzzling Seventies’ mood brilliantly and there were some good lines. By the end of the performance though, too many things were left unsaid. When Liberace’s elderly mother died (an unrecognisable Debbie Reynolds) his response was, “Now I am free.” Why? We’re not told. I found myself getting a little bored as the glitter-sprinkled film camped along to its inevitable conclusion and became irritated when the Middle England audience giggled in embarrassment at some of the mildly raunchy scenes and ripe language. Ladies, it wasn’t that graphic. You really need to get out more.