Friday, 26 February 2010

The Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.

I'm sure you're well aware that Friday means one thing and one thing only, and that is the Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup. Time for the five biggest celebrity stories of the week as re-told by the biggest raging bitch in the entire of the North East:

1. Unremarkable popstar supports fantastic woman on tour. (4Music)


While I have been known to make fun of a celebrity or two in my time, there aren't very many that I actually dislike. I must admit that Pixie Lott is one of these celebrities. I find her completely uninteresting, her songs are standard post-Winehouse crooning and she herself is far too hypersexualised in my honest opinion (Oh but Daniel you're a Britney fan, how hypocritical; liberated woman; blah blah blah)-- no, to be honest with you I just think she's one of these jailbait teases that record companies throw out every few years (yes like Britney was but at least Britney had a fantastic song to go alongside it and perhaps ...Baby One More Time was not exactly groundbreaking but put it alongside Mama Do or Boys and Girls and you'll see what I mean).

Imagine my horrror, then, when it was revealed this week that- contrary to rumours of Cheryl Cole and Ke$ha- Pixie Lott would be supporting Rihanna on her 2010 tour. I'm all for Pixie Lott having a little spot opening for The Saturdays or Chipmunk or N-Dubz or one of those acts who can have all the Number Ones under the sun but they'll never quite be there, but Rihanna is Rihanna! Her stage is going to be all dark and steampunk and futuristic, and there Pixie Lott will be howling Cry Me Out in that way she's become famous for. Raging I am!

2. The Vengabus is coming. Again. (Twitter)

Really, any band with a sailor and a cowboy is alright by me...

We might as well be honest with ourselves, the Vengaboys had some tunes. Boom Boom Boom Boom. Kiss (When The Sun Don't Shine). We're Going To Ibiza. We Like To Party. It's all good. You can say otherwise, but why lie? Why deprive yourself of the joy that is brought around by the music of Vengaboys??

Anyone, it was revealed on the official Vengaboys Twitter this week that they were in London shooting the video for their new single!! New material from the Vengas! Are you ready for that? I don't think you are! Let's just hope it's more successful than the undeservedly unsuccessful Aqua re-union last year...

3. Kylie Minogue: "I really need to get out more". (Digital Spy)

Kylie Minogue trying in vain to be as interesting as Ophelia. FAIL.

Kylie Minogue has a new album coming soon. I'm sure it will blow your mind, she always has her finger on the pulse of British pop music and always knows what's coming up next. That's why she's chosen to work with the same producers as her last Number 4 album, X. Remember it? Of course you don't.

The poor lamb, though, insists that she has no life at the moment because all of her time is spent working! "It's work work work at the minute," she told Absolute News. Exactly what work she's doing is lost on me, I'm quite sure she has the same studio input on her music as Paris Hilton had on her album, except Paris Hilton would usually bring a man with her and have sex with him during the boring mastering process, before she'd have to go back and coo into the microphone. Obviously no chance of that with Kylie...

4. Robbie Williams thanks his fans by putting on a hideous pink thing. (Perez Hilton)

What the actual fuck?

I'm sure you remember watching the Brits and turning off Robbie Williams's snooze-fest of a performance half-way through (of course I had the pleasure of watching it drunk so I also heckled him a little bit. He was a professional about it though and just ignored me), but the reason the performance existed was because beforehand he won the Outstanding Contribution to Music award, previously won by the actually groundbreaking David Bowie and Pet Shop Boys.

As a way of thanking his fans, Robbie posted the above picture of himself onto his official blog, saying "what better way to celebrate than with an £8 Primark all-in-one". Personally I think he's working it. Only question is who in the real world would wear something as vile as that? Who indeed...? (I expect I'll be reading something about onesies on Messy Carla at some point in the near future, now that celebrities are wearing them and everything :p)

5. Cheryl and Ashley are no more. (Holy Moly)

Get yourself back to Newcastle, love. I'll get you good and pissed and you'll forget all about that twat.

"Cheryl Cole is separating from her husband Ashley Cole. Cheryl asks the media to respect her privacy during this difficult time.

We have no further comment to make."


Was I the only one who actually thought Cheryl and Ashley would go the distance? I know they had their problems and everything, but I honestly thought he could change. Obviously he could not and obviously he is a dick. There is only so many times you can turn a blind eye and I really respect Cheryl for giving it another try. I think while she's leaving people she should just leave Girls Aloud and put out a second solo album asap with all kinds of "I'm single and I love it" numbers on.


And so concludes another Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.
Yee-haw!

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Life According To Twitter.


Cheryl and Ashley Cole are no more. It's a big deal. Here's what people on Twitter are saying about it:


How lovely. She gave Ashley a second chance all those months ago, which can't have been easy for her, and he blew it. It's easy to point the finger and say "she should have left him the first time he cheated on her" but at the end of the day we do not know what goes on in other people's marriages, and it's not for us to judge.


Eeeeh! Fly your Cheryl flag high, I say.


I see what you did there. The song is called Fight For This Love and it goes "We gotta fight fight fight fight fight for this love". Thing is though, you had one "fight" too few in your tweet. Also, she did fight pretty hard for "this love" to the extent where her first solo single was all about fighting for love rather than going out and having a good time or similar. Overall, a C+ Tweet.


You're pleased to say that you have no idea who the most famous woman in Britain is? Really?


You're right, love. Cheryl Cole fans are gonna be shouting their love of her from the rooftops. I predict you're not going to be able to move for Team Cheryl tops for a brief period (me obviously having my finger on the pulse and all that) and it's generally going to be a brilliant time to be a Cheryl fan. I'm quite excited for the upcoming weeks when I see tweets like this.


Facebook humour. I love it.


Correct, Antony75. Rhyming is fun. Rhyming about Cheryl Cole is the most fun of all. Brilliant stuff. Top notch.


This is all well and good, andyecfc. But I will fight you to the death for her. And I will win. We have got to fight. Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight for this Cole. Do you get it? Because that is the song.


If you'd like to read any more inspired tweets from atticvs then here are a few about some of this favourite topics: fluffy kittens, sunshine and rainbows (if there's one kind of racism homophobia I love it's ultra-subtle racism and homophobia. Lovely.)


You could argue that the above comment was worth tweeting, I suppose. But you would be wrong.


You're right. There just aren't enough stories about expenses scandals and Gordon Brown beating up his staff, if you ask me.


Here's hoping, love. If truth be told, vikkistone, I'm hoping that your naps are somewhat powerful for celebrity gossip, and next time you wake up Cheryl will be beating a car up with an umbrella. Or she'll reveal that she's pregnant. Go, go! Sleep, sleep!


You can say what you want about Geordies but we bloody well stick together! nomii90, I do not know you but if ever you see me in Powerhouse remind me to get you a drink.


I must say angeloys, that was both big and clever. Well done, you.


Dannii Minogue gets it wrong again.


The only tweet on the subject really worth reading.


And finally, because they always say to leave 'em laughing...

Monday, 22 February 2010

Big Gay Monday: Rihanna.

Alright folks, I'm starting something new. It is called Big Gay Monday. I'm reluctant to share this information with you in case it does not stick but so far I've stayed faithful to the Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup even though realistically unless your name is Cheryl or something unpronounceable that you've had to replace with an adapted Queen lyric so you can appear commercial enough to be the biggest pop star in the world the mundane goings on in your life barely qualify as celebrity gossip.

So I'm trying out Big Gay Monday. And every Monday I'm gonna have a chat on about someone or something which, as a bum bandit, is of interest to me. Moreover, I'm gonna chat on about things that I believe that you, as the reader of a blog written by a bum bandit, should be interested in also. You with me? Big Gay Monday? Let's rock.

Being a gay icon is not necessarily about surrounding yourself with topless men and rambling on about how shite AIDS is all the time. We all know that AIDS is shit, Annie Lennox has already driven the point home for us. If you ask me, being a gay icon is about showing strength, retaining dignity and making lemonade when the world has replaced your lemons with handfuls of shite. It was Rihanna's birthday this week, and I'm sure you'll agree that in the past 12 months she has made more lemonade from pure shite than anyone else in the public eye, and thus is the focus of the first ever Big Gay Monday.

There's so much power in my name.

Chris Brown did something really shit to Rihanna. It was brutal and it was heartless and it was humiliating. Before it all kicked off, Rihanna had just had Take A Bow and Disturbia in the charts. Following the attack she could have chosen to backchannel on all of that, become a recluse and come back a year and a half later with a ballad about being wronged and vulnerable. She could have but she didn't. Instead she showed the world she had balls (not literally, of course) and had the sides of her hair shaved off. A subtle gesture, perhaps, but it was her way of showing everyone who was in charge. It was her way of showing who was making the decisions from thereon in. It was her way of showing the world that she wasn't taking any more shite.

They can say whatever, no pain is forever.

Consider the dignified silence Rihanna has kept ever since the attack. Admittedly she's started opening up more recently (she told Jonathan Ross she was hoping she could help young girls who were also victims of abuse) but has still never spoken distastefully, or actually shown any hostility towards Chris Brown. Who is obviously a dickhead. Let's suppose for a minute though that it wasn't Rihanna who was abused. Let's pretend it was Katie Price. Imagine the media circus, the interviews, the endless photoshoots of her looking moodily out at you from an OK! magazine cover, cradling her children and giving her usual cliché soundbytes to the journalists. There was none of that from Rihanna. She channelled it all into her work.

There's so much power in my name.

Moving away from all that bullshit, Rihanna is generally just mint. For starters, she's pretty much the only successful artist in pop music at the moment who isn't copying Lady GaGa move for move, and dancing to her own beat which is quite refreshing. Her fashion choices are always controversial (I must confess I do not always agree with what she wears) and her unique hairstyle is constantly being mimicked by popstars and bloggers alike.

No one was expecting a song like Russian Roulette when Rihanna announced her comeback in 2009. She burst back into the spotlight with newly bleached hair, clad in barbed wire. Considering her last album featured songs like Don't Stop The Music and Umbrella, it was something of a shock for Rihanna's new lead single to be such a serious ballad. Rihanna is one of those people who get people's attention no matter what she's doing, and that's what makes her such a star. She may not be the best singer, the best dancer, the best performer. But she has got that something that makes her a real star.

Those who doubt Rihanna's potential as a gay icon need merely to watch this:



Four albums, two number one singles, three Grammy awards, three MTV awards. All this, and let's not forget that Rihanna is only 22 years old.

WHAT! A! LEGEND!



MY TOP 3 RIHANNA

Sunday, 21 February 2010

A heavy blog (ironically).

As a gay man I am discriminated against and that is just how it is. People in the street shout things at me, groups of youths sit obviously whispering about me on the metro, old people look down their noses at me for seemingly no reason. All of this makes me laugh, because what else can I do? At the end of the day, I'm comfortable enough in my own homosexuality to know people are wrong to do this, so I sit back and laugh at it without really paying much attention to it (a healthy dose of general arrogance cannot hurt with shrugging all this off, if truth be told).

Having said that, if I'm honest, I feel much more marginalised and judged by society because of the fact I'm an underweight person than anything else. In my last blog I mentioned Victoria Beckham springing to the defence of naturally thin models who always get a rough ride for "promoting an unhealthy body image" and "pushing people into eating disorders". I ended up typing out quite a rant, but decided that it could all wait for another blog. This is that blog.

Now, I'm not going to be naive and say that every underweight model eats three meals a day and just "happens" to end up skinny because that is how their metabolism works. I'm perfectly aware that what is probably a vast majority of these girls are having a line of cocaine for breakfast and a helping of their own finger for dinner. And I agree, these girls are a bad influence. These girls do indeed promote unrealistic views of women and body image, and shouldn't be allowed to continue promoting eating disorders as a way of being successful. It actually knocks me sick that young girls would see these models and starve themselves to be like them. I'm with everyone else in that respect, and really do wish that this was not the case because anorexia and bulimia and body dysmorphia and all that really are a lot more serious than everyone gives them credit for.

However, let's take a look at Nicole Richie. Nicole Richie took a hammering from the media because of her weight. People were saying she needed help, people were saying she made them sick, even paparazzi photographers were shouting at her that she was disgusting and needed to "gain some fucking weight". Now, I don't claim to be a fan of Nicole Richie but this is because, unlike Paris Hilton and Kelly Osbourne who really gave it a good go at being famous for something, Nicole Richie is celebrity offspring who actually is famous for nothing. As I'm sure you know I'm a big fan of the celebrity world in general, and don't really like it when people manage to wriggle their way into it without really achieving anything. I do have to stand up for Nicole Richie, though, she was just getting on with her life and having abuse literally shouted at her on the street because of the way she looked. LET'S HEAR WHAT SHE HAD TO SAY ABOUT IT ALL:

"You don't scream at people that they are overweight, so what makes people think that they have the right to scream at me that I am underweight? It's upsetting and mean. I am not anorexic."

And I do know exactly what she's talking about. There have been times when I will have been in a club, dancing away my troubles when someone will come up to me and say things like "You're so skinny. Ergh. C'mere, get a look at how skinny he is" etc. etc. Now I'm not going to sit here and say that overweight people get nothing but positive feedback from the general public with people always commenting on how jolly they seem and rubbing their cute bellies for good luck. But I'm also pretty sure that you would not go up to a stranger in a club and randomly comment on how fat they are looking, giving noises of repulsion and telling them "oh my god you need to lose some weight!" as much as I have heard "oh my god you need to gain some weight".

To be clear, I am not on any diet. I do not do any exercise whatsoever. Generally I will go to McDonalds three or four times a week. Usually I will order a medium meal and a burger and a milkshake and occasionally a donut, and devour the entire thing. I do not eat healthily, I just eat when I'm hungry and that is it. I do not look the way I do because that I aspired to be skinny, it just happened that way. More importantly, I do not have an eating disorder, and absolutely hate when people suggest otherwise because it is a really serious thing to be accused of. I don't like to talk about how much I weigh because it is embarrassing. If there was a quick-fix way of gaining weight then I'd be all for it, but I'm still proud to be a thin person because that's just who I am.

And, of course, it works both ways. This is not a blog where I go on and on about how great it is being skinny and think we might as well exterminate the overweight community. People in the media being picked on and laughed at for being overweight pisses me off just as much as the Nicole Richies and Victoria Beckhams of the world getting a hard time. Long-time readers will remember me raging last year when NW magazine put pictures of Mary-Kate Olsen on their front page looking slightly slightly larger than normal with the headline "What's happened to Mary-Kate?" A headline like this is disgusting in any circumstances but, a) Mary-Kate looked fine, if at something of an unflattering angle and b) Mary-Kate is a sufferer of anorexia nervosa, and really should have some sort of Get Out Of Jail Free Card when it comes to media speculation about weight gain.

My absolute idol Britney Spears performed Gimme More at the VMAs in 2007. I'm sure you remember it, it was an absolute train wreck. Her miming was out of time, her hair extensions looked like lamp-shade tassles and her tan was as fake as her smile. It was, in short, a disaster. And I loved every minute of it. The next day, however, the press only seemed to want to talk about one thing, and that is how chubby Britney was looking. The New York Post led with the headline "Lard and Clear", while E! online talked of her "bulging belly". Shall we look at the photos of her again?

Anyone who would use the word "fat" to describe this woman has something wrong with them.

OK, let's get real, she's not exactly wearing a flattering outfit. But even with my Britney-loving rose-tinted glasses off, I can see that this is not a large woman. This is barely even a woman who could be described as "curvy". It seems that people like Britney and Mary-Kate are so much in the public eye that journalists (shamefully) want any opportunity to bring them down and that is usually by playing off people's insecurities, which usually stem from their weight. (There was also an awful review of Britney's Circus Tour which I had a rant about on my old blog, which claimed Britney was looking like a porker when she looked lush. I really do hate the media talking about weight, it really is unhealthy).

Let's go back to Victoria Beckham's original comment: "I don't think we should be discriminating against people because they're too thin or too large or whatever it is". And there it is, she has hit the nail right on the head. Being underweight and being overweight completely go hand in hand. We're all big enough now to know that making fun of people being too big is not cool it is not big and it is not clever. And so let's remember the flip-side of the coin, and not go to the skinny place either.

I'm all for saying that Beth Ditto is an inspiration and a good role model, but if we're going to do that then we have to say that Victoria Beckham is as well.

END. OF. RANT.

Friday, 19 February 2010

The Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.


Note: The blog you are about to enjoy contains an abnormal amount of hyperlinks. Apols for that.

It is that time of the week where we pause and reflect on the past seven days of celebrity news and gossip in what is to be forever known as the Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup. Here goes...

1. The straw has broken Cheryl Cole's back at long last. (Twitter)

It has been a pretty busy week for Cheryl Cole and I take my hat off to her for not going out and making an arse of herself, which is how some people deal with things like this.

First off, early in the week her stupid husband "gave his phone away with naked photos still on it" which were then sent to some glamour model. It must be nice being a glamour model and constantly having famous men sending obscene things to your mobile, the best I get is occasional closeups of rectums sent to my Gaydar profile, and none of them are particularly desirable rectums.

Despite being known for shooting her mouth off occasionally, Cheryl has stayed completely tight-lipped about the whole thing. Good for her. Later in the week, though, reports emerged that she wanted her friends to start calling her Cheryl Tweedy, reverting to her maiden name.

Cheryl then mimed her way through a performance of Fight For This Love at The Brit Awards which can't have been easy for her, with everyone talking about her failing marriage. Personally I think it was the best performance of the night, though I believe I am in the minority there. Although she wasn't singing live, the choreography and general performance were incredible.

It seems, though, that Cheryl has had enough. She has flown off to LA on her own without her wedding ring on, though that generally means nothing as she's forever taking that ring off claiming it doesn't go with her outfits. However, a post on her Twitter today read...


...so, really, it's not looking good for Ashley Cole who could soon be lost in a media storm without his PR life jacket, Cheryl Cole. I have a feeling this one will run and run...

2. The Lady shows her GaGa at The Brits (Holy Moly)

As well as winning all three of the awards she was up for (and rightly so!), Lady GaGa performed Telephone and Dance In The Dark at The Brits on Tuesday night, and everyone seems to think it was incredible. I can't help but feel that it's a bit of an "Emperor's New Clothes" affair where, in reality, her performance was shite but everyone is too afraid to say otherwise. She looked brilliant, obviously, but the whole thing was a bit too self-indulgent for my liking.

If nothing else, though, the performance helped put to rest certain rumours surrounding Lady GaGa's private life. You see, for some reason, people think Lady GaGa is a man. I have no idea why, but people are obsessed with this idea to the extent that if you type "Lady GaGa" into Google, the first suggested item is "Lady GaGa hermaphrodite":
The revealing outfit she wore to the Brits, however, provided evidence to the contrary with a hint of gash accidentally hanging out during her performance, reminiscent of Britney's I'm A Slave 4U wardrobe malfunction on The Circus Tour last year. How embarrassing for the poor dear, who just wanted to have a nice tribute to Alexander McQueen, but instead just flashed the world her vagina. If that were me I'd just want to find a big hole and curl up in it. Luckily for me, Lady GaGa has already shown me one...

3. Denise is Van Outen of the BBC (Heatworld)

If there's a company out there that everyone should get together and sue for unfair dismissal it's the BBC. First they shafted Arlene Philips off of Strictly Come Dancing in favour of Alesha Dixon, leading everyone to believe it was all age-related prejudice, and now a very pregnant Denise Van Outen has been left to stand behind Kerry Katona in the Jobcentre queue.

The new series Over The Rainbow, which is following on from How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?, Any Dream Will Do and Any Dream Will Do in the search for the next West End Star, will see ex-opera star Charlotte Church in Denise's seat on the judging panel. Frankly, I think they should get Charlotte Church in to judge on Popstar To Operastar but that's mainly just because I'd love to watch her and Katherine Jenkins fight each other. Either way, it's all caused a big hoohah with people saying the BBC have got rid of Denise just because she is pregnant.

Denise Van Outen, understandably, is not happy. She's done the usual pregnant lady "it's not an illness, I'm perfectly healthy" speech which I would normally roll my eyes at, but in this case I am right behind her. Ever since I saw Denise in the awful, awful, so awful I almost went on a theatre massacre Rent Remixed I have been a fan of her and I think she really knows what she's talking about whereas Charlotte Church does not, (furthermore if The Charlotte Church Show proved anything it's that Charlotte Church has all the TV presence of a potted plant).

The public reaction to this will probably help Simon Cowell decide exactly what to do when it comes to the decision of whether or not to hang onto Dannii Minogue for the next series of The X Factor, who is getting pregnanter and pregnanter by the day. Thing is though, unlike Dannii, Denise is actually a success in her field and I say shame on whoever's decision it was to bump her off in the first place (and, no, I did not mean Lee Meade who merely knocked her up).

4. Cyndi Lauper fancies a Lady GaGa collaboration. (Monsters and Critics)

Do you remember back in 2004 when it looked like Madonna's career was over and she started following Britney Spears around all over the place leading to hilarious parodies such as this? It looks like 2010 is seeing the sequel to that starring Cyndi Lauper as Madonna and Lady GaGa as Britney Spears.

Cyndi Lauper reckons she'd love to do a collaboration with Lady GaGa, but says that "everyone is on her right now" and would wait until the buzz around her calms down. Cyndi's buzzing around GaGa like flies to shite at the minute, 'cos Cyndi Lauper is one of them people who won't shut up about how much she loves the gays because they're the only ones who buy her records anymore (this is officially known as The Dannii Minogue Effect), and with all the gays raving about Lady GaGa (the gays and everyone else in the world) Cyndi knows exactly who to stick to.

The two of them are even promoting a new MAC lipstick together to help raise money for AIDS awareness because as well as loving the gays, Cyndi Lauper is one of them who proper hates AIDS. Obviously, no one is becoming a fan of AIDS on Facebook in a hurry or anything like that, but Cyndi won't shut up about it, though she's not quite on the Annie Lennox level of AIDS-hating yet (good grief that woman hates AIDS. I've never known AIDS-hatred quite like it in all my days as a gay).

When asked about it herself, GaGa is quoted as saying: "Who knows?" What a slap in the face. She might as well have said "I've accomplished more in the last year and a half than that daft bitch has in her entire twenty year career" which she would be completely within her rights to do.

Note to Cyndi Lauper: You are completely irrelevant. Please give up and go home. Thank you.

5. Victoria Beckham flies the flag for thin people (Coco Perez)

Victoria Beckham has got her fashionista hat on at the minute, and has sprung to the defence of the thinner models of the world.

Fair enough it would be pretty hypocritical for her to get on her high-horse and claim they're all too thin. One thing she does know though, like myself, is how it feels to be discriminated against due to her weight.

"Most of these girls are naturally thin and I don't think we should be discriminating against people because they're too thin or too large or whatever it is," she said while guest hosting The View earlier in the week (I love how The View get Victoria and we get stuck with Mel B over here...)

All the way through her career Victoria has been accused by people of being a bad influence and promoting anorexia and being disgusting and a poor role model and all that shite, but she's stuck to her guns and standing up for herself and acknowledging that it's discrimination and not saying "oh it's better being too thin than too fat (which actually it's not)" by mentioning discrimination against people who are too big within her little speech.

Hoorah for Victoria Beckham, I say! Though I am obviously in the minority.

And so ends another Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.
Yee-haw!

Vlog again

Five bottles of Lucozade will make you talk shite on the interweb:


THERE IS YOUR PROOF, LADS.

Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Either I'm maturing or I'm becoming incredibly dull.


Good evening, bitches. My parents have been away since Sunday so I have had the house to myself for the past few days which has been a strange state of affairs. Naturally I am the world's most untidy person so the place is an absolute state:

I know this doesn't actually appear to be that bad but if you bear in mind that this is only three days' worth of shite and that I am not exactly a large eater and that puts things into perspective. You might say I'm letting the side down somewhat with my resistance of having any wild parties where my budgie is ritually sacrificed and acid is passed around guests like After Eight mints, but it is important to remember that I am a good boy, and more crucially I couldn't be arsed to tidy up after a party like that, it would be easier for me to just torch the house and start from scratch thusly.

My parents being away has actually given me an epiphany with regards to nights out. For the first time in my life I am beginning to realise that you can have a good night out without:

1. Getting absolutely off your face.
2. Pulling a random stranger and then sulking when they're getting off with someone else 20 minutes later.
3. Chucking up all over Powerhouse toilets/the street/my bathroom floor (delete as applicable)

These are the sorts of lessons that boring frigid people always try and bore into you as a way of justifying their own truly more-boring-than-an-Ann-Summers-party-at-Jordin-Sparks'-house nights out. Or so I thought. Perhaps one actually must experience these things for yourself to really appreciate them. I have been out twice this week, and pulled 0 men and been sick through alcohol (or other means for that matter) 0 times. And I had hella good fun both times. Either I'm maturing or I'm becoming incredibly dull. I fear it may be leaning towards the latter as I have spent tonight watching my Friends box-set and listening to Taylor Swift.

I had an ace, ace night at Powerhouse with Catherine on Monday. I did not drink to excess and I ignored all the pretty boys (and, more importantly, I ignored all the mediocre boys) and managed to have a lovely time. Here is the proof via an image:

Brenda The Gay Elephant makes her Silly Old Daniel return.

I saw my friend Iain in The Bank. He said nice things about my blog. Here is a picture of us. Nice.

BIG SMILES FOR ACTUAL FUN

I spent last night out in Sunderland for another lovely gay night this time with Carla whose blog you should read because there is a BUZZZZZ about it, innit. We took lots of lovely photos also but they will wait for another blog, won't they?

Goodbye, loves!

Monday, 15 February 2010

Vlog

I'm trying out the whole vlog thing. We'll see if it sticks, shall we?



I fell in love on Valentine's Day. With Brenda. The lesbian elephant.

Saturday, 13 February 2010

Anti-Anti-Valentines Day.

A teddy bear massacre is not the answer.

Evening all. I'm here to have a chat about being single and how I think that this Valentines Day single people need to chill out. I'm having another one of those days where I sit around the house watching Lady GaGa being a royal bitch to journalists on YouTube (I love her but part of me just wants her to climb up her own rancid vagina and die), making myself slices of toast and refreshing Facebook every few seconds in case I'm missing something fascinating. And all over the place are statuses about how depressed everyone is being single, or the anti-Valentines Day plans people have.

What the actual fuck?

Now I am not saying it is easy not having a "someone special" when there are hearts popping up in shop windows all over the place and rom-coms taking up half of the screens in the cinema and people sending each other boastfully slushy messages all over the place on Facebook (these people, admittedly, should be exterminated slowly and painfully). There are worse things in the world, though. For example, tomorrow I am spending Valentines Day with my University friends, Karen and Nikki. I will throw my hands up and say this is not an ideal situation, not least because the chances of sex with Karen and/or Nikki are pretty slim (admittedly this is mostly due to my homosexuality and not any character flaw on the part of Karen and/or Nikki), but it is a situation nonetheless and I intend to make the most of it.

Valentines Day is just 1 day out of 365, the next day is just like any other where people get back to their jobs and problems and lives, but Valentines Day is about showing people you care about that you care about them. Does this mean that single people do not get to share in the Valentines fun?

Personally, I'd say that as single people we have two options (three if you count just ignoring the day which, obviously, is a perfectly acceptable- if not somewhat cold- way of dealing with things). Either we can bitch about the tackiness and the ridiculousness of the day, and be bitter and negative towards the whole thing. We can…but what is actually the point? Exactly what are all the people having anti-Valentines Day events tomorrow achieving? As far as I can see single people should take the high road and follow the other option, just spending the day with other people they care about and, rather than having anti-Valentines Day fun, should just have an alternative Valentines Day. For me this does involve getting drunk and watching The Shining, because that is just how I roll.

I realise I'm known these days for being quite bitter and cynical towards the whole "relationships" thing, but I do believe that it's love that spurs us on to get on with things. I'm not even talking about the great love of life we all should have or whatever. But I love writing and I love celebrities, and that's what gets me out of bed on a morning to get to University and sit through lectures about Journalism (there I said it, and if any of my lectures are reading this I'm afraid that's the sad truth). I love going to McDonalds and that's the thought that gets me through particularly strenuous shifts at work. I love pretending that people actually take notice of what I'm saying, and that's what brought me to start writing this in the first place. Most of the time, it will be love that has driven us to do anything (admittedly most of those other times will have been driven by hate but that can wait for another blog).

So all of you who are getting together for anti-Valentines Day fun tomorrow need to ask yourself: is one day a year that's all about love really that terrible?

Friday, 12 February 2010

The Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.

Welcome to another Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup where you can remind yourself of the week's biggest celebrity stories as seen through the bitchiest eyes in the North East. In case you don't spot the hilariousness for yourself, the lyrics are all Lady GaGa lyrics. I AM A BLOODY LAUGH RIOT.


Our survey says...

Continuing in a long line of famous men who cannot just go home and do their wives and have a good old time being monogamous, it was revealed this week that Vernon Kay has been sending obscene texts to glamour models.

The actual contents of the messages, which he has apparently sent to four or five different Page 3 models, are unknown because The Sun newspaper refused to print them, claiming they were too filthy. Too filthy. This is the same newspaper that greets you with a pair of bare breasts as soon as you open it, I can only imagine they included lines like "Can I trouble you for a soapy tit-wank" and "I want you to smear me with your shite and whack my ball-sack with a pillowcase full of doorknobs". The dirty perv that he is.

I just feel bad for Tess Daley. I mean it's bad enough she's completely uninteresting, but now even her ridiculous husband has lost interest. I'll never watch Family Fortunes again. Not because of moral outrage or anything, just because it's a load of shite. (Daily Mail)


Leona "Loose Cannon" Lewis

If I say the name Leona Lewis to you, the chances are you'll take a little nap. I once was like you, until I learned how hardcore she was about her vegetarianism and the defence of animal rights. She once turned down £1million to open The Harrods Sale because they sell fur.

This week she's been kicking up a fuss because The Brit Awards were planning on selling Foie-Gras to those who attended. This rubbed Leona up the wrong way, apparently vegetarians don't like the idea of Pixie Lott and Taoi Cruz chowing down on a bloated duck's liver, so she kicked up a stink and it's since been removed from the menu. However, even though the foie-gras is no more, Leona claims that the menu is "still not cruelty-free".

Good for you, Leona, fighting for your cause. Give us a smile though, eh? (Twitter)


Back on, is it?

Despite certain reports that they had split up (*ahem*), Madonna is in Brazil with Jesus Luz her supposed ex, but then again you don't go jetting off with ex-boyfriends do you? IT'S JUST NOT THE WAY TO GO ON. So we can pretty much assume that they're back on again. If ever they were split up.

The loved up/split up pair were seen partying at a Brazillian club on Wednesday night, apparently regretting their decision to give gay night in Sunderland the night before a miss. It all got a bit steamy as they got dancing, what with her being the best dancer in the universe and everything, and Jesus decided to take his top off. This was a wise decision, because he is absolutely gorgeous. Yes. Indeed. (Perez Hilton)

4. Rihanna has a new video. If you like it you can watch it on your video phone.

Oh, to be that zebra.

Rihanna's new video for Rude Boy was released this week, and it is a lush 'urn which sees her onto of a zebra and doing reverse cow-girl on top of a lion.

I could sit here and describe it to you till the cows come home, but that is boring as sin when you can see it for yourself right here.



You can say you don't like it if you want but that would mean you are full of shite. You need to sort your life out if this is the case. Alright? (Popjustice)

5. Britney Spears-- could we fix you if you broke?

I love Britney Spears way more than I love you.

It was all looking a bit suspicious for Britney Spears the other day as she was spotted at an LA hospital (on a side note, her hair is back to that manky brown colour again. Apparently, the whole thing was for a "routine checkup" but Britney was accompanied by her two boys (you know, the career ruiners) and a police escort.

Fair enough, when you're Britney Spears you cannot be nipping out to the doctor's without some form of security or you'll have all kinds of mad fans pestering you, demanding autographs from you and pissing up your leg. However, a police escort seems a little severe especially if it was only for a "routine" checkup.

The plot thickened this week when she headed back out to the doctor's with Jayden James (or Career Ruiner #1 as he is affectionately known within the Britney fan community), though this time without the police. The question on everyone's lips: What is going on at Camp Spears. The answer: I do not know.

This does not qualify as news. It has not been a good week in the world of celebrities. I apologise. (Monsters and Critics)

And so concludes another Silly Old Daniel Celebrity Roundup.
Yee-haw!

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Gaytiquette.

Before last night I must admit I hadn't been a fan of 'Gay Night' in Sunderland. I'd always found it sort of insulting, giving the gays of Sunderland one night a week to go out and get down with their bad, gay selves before exiling them for another seven days. It reminded me somewhat of 'Negro Day' on Hairspray, though obviously less racially intolerant. I expect I'll have to patrol down the streets of Sunderland alongside Queen Latifah singing I Know Where I've Been before the gays are allowed to roam free among the normals on a night out that isn't a Tuesday.

However, my mind was changed last night as a lovely time was had. Before I get back to ranting and raving about gay men sending each other mixed messages, here are some photos to prove I am capable of enjoying myself. I'm wearing my denim shirt with that stripy gay thing again. Please don't judge me, denim shirts could go back out of fashion at any given minute I need to get my wear out of mine before it's too late:

I am queen of the pool table. Well...I potted two balls.

Myself and the lovely Miss Karen.

Lauren and Ryan who I met last night.

Now, then. I have been going out on the gay scene for a year now, and so I'm starting to get to grips with how things work. Just because someone grabs your arse does not mean that they want your phone number. Just because someone sticks their tongue down your throat does not mean they ever want to see you again. Just because you let a stranger ejaculate on your face does not mean they'll be around for Sunday lunch the following weekend. I have accepted these as sad truths of the gay scene, but I can't help but feel that it would be a lot easier for all concerned if people laid off the bullshit and actually said what they meant.

I'm going to be honest now. There have been times in the past when I may have pulled random strangers simply because I was too drunk not to, or because it was my birthday, or simply because Bad Romance is on. Had any of these men asked me for my number, I would have declined because it is no good making promises one can not keep.

I say this because last night I went out with the explicit intention of not pulling anyone. I know I've been doing the whole "flying the flag for all who are single" thing for the past 12 months but if we're calling a spade a spade here I am beginning to grow a little tired of it and can't help but feel that if this is going to change then I am going to have to change my attitude somewhat and behave respectably and like someone who would actually be interested in some form of relationship. Annoyingly, I was distracted (as always) by a fit lad who I'd been doing that stupid eye-flirting half-smiling suggestively thing with in every bar I'd been to. And I thought to myself that somewhere underneath the hairspray and skinny jeans there is this boy here with his crooked teeth and Russell Brand hair, who didn't kiss a boy until he was 17, and I thought that I owed it to him to kiss the beautiful boy. And so, because the DJ was on a winning streak playing Telephone/Revolver/Bad Romance/Like A Prayer, I decided it was a sign and kissed the handsome stranger.

Mega oops all round, really.

The thing is though, I am a big boy, I can handle the truth. I may not exactly be street-smart or wise in the ways of the world, but I do know what not to expect from men. Once you have removed me from your face you are more than welcome to wander off and dance with your friends, get yourself a drink or do whatever takes your fancy. I would happily never speak to you again, otherwise I would have chased after you. Which is something I would never, ever do anyway. This cynical attitude towards the romantic side of life explains why I was genuinely caught off guard when the handsome stranger pulled away from me and said

"I think you should definitely give me your number".

In my entire life I have never once had a guy ask for my number. I do not see why they would, if we're being honest, unless we'd had some sort of killer conversation beforehand which we had not. This did not seem right, somehow. I could see this even through my alcohol and post-pulling haze.

"Are you actually going to text me or not?" I asked. I hoped this sounded scrappy and confident but playing the episode back in my head, I just sounded like a dick.
"Of course I am," he smiled back at me. I gave him my number. He was very, very attractive. And he said very nice things to me, which really were quite unnecessary and would be the sort of thing that would, in normal circumstances, turn my stomach. Blame the alcohol, blame the kissing, blame the looming Valentine's Day festivities but I ate it all up.

More dancing more kissing more alcohol. I danced with Karen for a while, and she and her friends went upstairs for a smoke. And there was the lad, with his tongue down some other drunken idiot's throat. "OK then," I thought to myself. "He is obviously a dick. Not bothered." I wasn't really. It was the number exchanging and the compliments that through me off. I wasn't used to them. I was even more thrown off when later in the night he came back over to me and put his arm around me. I decided to spare myself some integrity and ignore him. This lasted roughly six seconds.

"You seem angry," he said to me.
"I am," he said.
"Why?" he asked.
"Oh, its nothing," I said. I frequently go about chatting that people can do what they want when they are single, and had I not been on here three weeks earlier talking about drunkenly encountering three gentlemen in Powerhouse, and I am many things but I try not to be a hypocrite so I decided to say nothing.
"Did you see me with that guy?" he asked. I said nothing. "Because, well, I am single." As far as I'm concerned this was a perfectly valid excuse. I, however, was not playing.
"Yeah well, so am I," I said, turning away. I had actually won an argument in a bar. However, I am a dick and decided to continue to kiss the pretty boy. He was, after all, very, very pretty. And I was rather drunk.

Kiss kiss kiss.
Drink drink drink.
Dance dance dance.
Gosh, all I could think all the way through this was "Oooh I can't wait to write a blog about it" and what a tedious blog it's been and it's not even finished yet. Bloody 'ell.

"I need a cigarette, will you come with me?" asked the pretty boy. "You don't mind that I smoke do you?" I was beginning to get mixed signals here. If I was on a third date with someone and they asked if I minded if they smoked I would tell them they could do whatever they wanted and I was not arsed. This was someone who I had got off with, then watched getting off with someone else. It wasn't really the smoking that was bothering me.
"I don't really know you, to be honest," I said, "Why would I mind you smoking?"
"Well...I like you," he said, "And I'm definitely going to text you tomorrow, so I wouldn't want you to not like my smoking". Then he reached for my hand. I'm sure we've all seen the Sex And The City where Smith tries to hold Samantha's hand and this happens...

The next day, and without direction, Smith tried the most intimate hand position of all.

...and I must admit that my reaction was quite similar. Welcome to "How To Scare Off A Man Despite Your Constant Chatting That You Quite Fancy Being In A Relationship Again".

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, tactfully.
"I'm holding your hand, what's wrong?" he asked. He seemed confused, but not as confused as me. You cannot just go holding strangers' hands. It's not the way to go on. I think that perhaps he could tell I was a desperado in need of a date before Valentine's Day, much like every other year of my life (although admittedly this time last year I was the only person in the world aware that I would be on my own for Valentine's Day), and thought that this was the right way to go about wooing me back to his flat. He was incorrect. Further chatter ensued.

"You should come back with me," he said. I declined. I chatted to his friends, and then I went downstairs. I turned around later and counted him getting off with three more people in the space of one song. I'm still waiting on that text.

I would like to stress that I am not naive enough to be bothered by the actions of this person, more his confusing behaviour. I'm always slagging off people who live their lives by THE RULES, no sex before a third date, wait a certain number of hours afterwards before calling someone, playing hard to get and all that shite. I do think a line must be drawn somewhere though, especially in the more-or-less anything goes world of gay clubbing. In my book, when you give someone your number you go out of your way to stop this person seeing you getting off with anyone else, usually by not getting off with anyone else. Conversely, it is perfectly acceptable to get off with, let's say three or more, guys in one night provided one doesn't include any intimate acts, such as hand-holding. Also, the golden rule, do not tell someone you will text them if you are not going to. If you don't want to text me then do not ask for my number. Don't feel obligated to do anything because, at the end of the day, I am just one, tiny person. What am I going to do? That is just good manners. Good gay etiquette or gaytiquette, if you will. Perhaps it is time to spread the good word of gaytiquette to stop people behaving like arses.