Indecision 2011

If the Lib-Dem section of the collation government were serious about the forthcoming referendum on electoral reform, then instead of our usual little kiss in the box of our choice, they would insist on using the Alternate Vote (AV) system on the ballot paper and allow us to choose what method we desire to have to elect them. That, of course, would be the actions of people with some semblance of a backbone. To divert us from making this ironic observation however, they have been rather sly. Cunningly, they appear to have chosen the same date as the local elections, so that all of us poor saps who believed the Lib-Dems and voted for them, and who are intending to stomp to the polling stations to register our disgust, will also find ourselves presented with a watered-down version of one of the reasons we voted for a selection of those expenses-tainted buggers we call politicians in the first place. I predict indecision – and more stomping from the Polling Station.

And Double Summertime may be on its way, as the coalition considers putting our clocks forward one hour ahead of GMT and keeping BST. Luckily, this experiment will coincide with a drastic reduction of lollypop men and women as the cuts the coalition insisted on rushing in takes effect. Still, it will attract the tourists. Who wouldn’t want to watch texting kids negotiate heavy traffic? I mean, adults seem to find it difficult enough in a car-free zone as it is (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPpzj4PjNjU), so self-centred teenbots should provide far greater sport.

Best film seen this week: The Men Who Stare At Goats

Best guess celebratory death: Katie Price – silicon poisoning, caused when she attempts one dance manoeuvre too many.

A rose by any other name ...

So, all that glistens is not gold, apparently. It would appear that, for some time now, the advertising industry has been ‘air-brushing’ photos of model’s faces to make us like/envy them more. At a guess, I’d say this practice has been going on since, oh, I don’t really know, but let’s say from 1839 onwards – after the first daguerreotype photograph of a person was taken in France. Whether attempts to have a sort of kite-mark system to indicate the degree of digital manipulation will succeed (rather like the Footage Shown Does Not Represent Actual Game Play from adverts for consol games), I doubt much progress will be made until after the tabloids are forced to stop printing pictures of young women with their ‘tits out for the lads.’ That campaign never seems to gain much traction (you’d think it was male-dominated world and equality an illusion, wouldn’t you?), so persuading women to vote with their purses and say, have a temporary, week-long, embargo on buying magazines until such publications stop/reduce displaying idealised versions of femininity, seems a bit of a pipe dream on my part. With young women killing themselves by shoving silicon into their bottoms in an effort to ‘look good’ (Claudia Seye Aderotimi); with anecdotal evidence that some believe they have to replicate on-line porn to ‘fit in’; and with the safety net of Botox for when they get over twenty-three, I suspect the rose-coloured tint of advertising aimed at them will be here for some time. Unfortunately.

Oh, there’s also been a revolution in Egypt, this week …

Sing-a-song of something

You know how it is: you sell 50 million albums*, you get a Golden Globe for Best Original Song*, Rolling Stone rank you 58 in their 100 Greatest Singers of all Time*, then you get chosen to sing your national anthem just before your country’s most prestigious sporting event. You select a natty black number, which has no possibility of a ‘wardrobe malfunction’, there’s only an expected 100 million people or more going to watch, and the big screen has just shown President (ex) George Dub settling down to enjoy the game.

Now, what could you possibly do that might, initially, be missed by those not totally familiar with the traditions of your country? Flip the bird as you clasp the microphone? Pass wind in tune to the music? Fondle yourself? No, instead Christina Aguilera had brain-fade and sung (well, belted out actually) the wrong words of The Star Spangled Banner before this years Superbowl. I did notice a bit of hesitation at the time, but America’s national anthem is not top of my list of lyrics I must memorise (neither, it appears, is it for Christina), and the incident passed me by.

What she should have done – instead of pushing on regardless as any professional does – is have a Hollie Steel moment. You may remember the ten-year old got into a bit of a tears-before-bedtime episode (without the tears) on Britain’s Got Talent, and seeing a grown-up do likewise would have been that much more entertaining and probably would have earned her less flak. It could set a trend.

* Data from Wikipedia and any resemblance to the facts is entirely co-incidental.