I see Tamara Ecclestone is complaining that her privacy has been invaded. Something to do with blackmail.
She's the heiress who calls a press conference every time she buys a pair of shoes and has a reality TV crew following her 24/7.
Blackmail's a nasty business. What I don't understand is this. How much privacy does she have left to invade?
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You'd think I'd blow off about The Guardian telling lies which led to the News of the World closing down. Quite honestly, I can't be bothered. They will wheel out Charlie Brooker and His Holiness Pope Greenslime III to explain how they might have got it wrong over Millie Dowler's voicemail but that all tabloid journalists are scum anyway and the paper should close down for interviewing Steve Coogan and not giving him copy approval.
Brooker will make a joke out of it and Greenslade will simply say 'I told you so.'
That's if they do anything at all. They buried the story about them getting it wrong - it wasn't even the lead item in their media page. You can still see their original story, where they got it wrong, which led to the NotW closing. It remains intact with, somewhat unintentionally hilariously, an 'editor's note' beneath it that, in a very roundabout way, explains what a bunch of lying tosspots they've been.
Still, some of them probably have books to sell so perhaps we shouldn't be too harsh!
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Channel 4 is pushing a series This Is England 88 which is a gritty drama about that period, involving lots of northern folk suffering a lot. And it is brightly accompanied by a snatch of What Difference Does It Make? by The Smiths. Except that song was released in 1984.
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I haven't watched any of the X Factor but can't avoid it of course. I tuned in for the last five minutes of the very last show.
At the risk of sounding like a High Court judge, I don't get it. You spend six months watching hundreds of acts, you narrow them down to a few who, I take it, are supposed to be the most talented, and spend lots of money texting or phoning a vote in to that effect.
So why, at the end of this long and laborious process, did they pick four orange slappers with bad dress sense, bad skin and who can't even sing anyway?
I can't quite work out who comes out of this worse. All those other acts who, by definition are worse that this lot? All the people who wasted money on voting for them? The judges who have picked, as stars, a group without either an image or talent? Or all of us for letting them get away with it.
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Today was my birthday. I had to get up at the crack of sparrow's and drive to Rainham (it's out in the marshes somewhere) and watch an under-13s football match - it involved my son, I'm not trawling round Essex to find young boys playing sport.
Then I went to a carol concert involving my daughter and fell in love with some classical music celebrating a God I don't believe in. Joseph Lieber Joseph Mein for instance.
Meanwhile I've done my back in and Spurs lost (so making a wish when I blew out the candles didn't work).
It's the most interesting birthday I've had for ages. Cheers...Solly
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