Doctor Who producer teases death of a central character
Anyone reckon it won’t be Rory?
Sophie The Giraffe
The new gold standard in status teethers for tots. It’s never too early for one-upmanship, right?
The 2011 Virgin London Marathon
First they took over my Telewest internet, then my Holmes Place gym – now Virgin are ‘running’ the marathon. Bring back Laker Airways
Buckingham Palace launches Royal Wedding App
At £1.79 it’s cheaper than a tea towel
Russian spy overkill
It’s us who are starting to feel left out in the cold
Clegg’s intern gaff
We thought he was interning for Cameron
Old rag that hangs round the neck of others
Meg Mathews has launched a scarf collection
Her soft furnishings line is next
Called S&M. Oh, please
Some London hotels now putting on six sittings. And there’s only five hours in the afternoon
Apparently we’re in the throws of a ‘jam jar revolution’. What do you keep in yours?
Unlikely stat of the weekCommuters carry £3,800 of gadgets, ‘including smart-phones, laptops and MP3 players,’ claims eSure insurance. Does a 3-year-old Nokia count?
As the temperature finally begins to rise and we see the first signs of Spring, the change of season seems to cause a great deal of confusion about how to dress each morning.
The other day I set off for a trip into town bright and early when there was still a bite to the wind and the sun was well hidden by a thick layer of cloud. I was dressed accordingly in my jeans, ankle boots and warm jacket, but how I wished I’d caught a later train, or checked the Met weather website like a sensible middle-class girl, before I set off! By lunchtime the sun was out, the temperature had risen, and I was surrounded by a laid-back crowd decked out in their Spring attire. Among this crowd were many people who seemed to think that the combination of a flash of sun peeping from behind a cloud and a morning when you didn’t need to use your de-icer, required the removal of almost all items of clothing while ensuring that any items that do remain are white and/or made from linen.
As I sweltered among this more wafty crowd, it struck me that there was a correlation between the amount of clothing that you choose to remove and the earliest date you consider applying fake tan, and your social class. The higher you rank socially, the less flesh you will choose to expose; the underclass chap will strip down to his shorts as soon as the snow clears, while as the temperature rises the upper classes merely exchange one type of luxury fabric for another, lighter-weight luxury fabric.
And what of those inbetween? Well, why not read this quick handy guide, and see how many of our Springtime middle-class tribes you can spot?
He will put his shorts on at the first opportunity, in order to show off the tattoos on his leg; at the same time, she dons her sandals to show off the tattoo on her foot.
No Sugar Babe
She will drive the change to summerwear, encouraging her White Vain Man hubby to wear his shorts so that she doesn’t “look too summery” in her flowery maxi dress or white linen trousers (with visible thong beneath).
The Hornby Set
He swaps his black jacket for a slightly shorter black jacket, she’ll wear summer clothes, but in layers. Lots and lots of lots of layers.
He will swap his stonewash jeans for a pair of even lighter stonewash jeans. She will swap her coat for a heavy-knit waterfall cardigan.
Won’t remove any layers. She will swap her woollen scarf for a silk one and he will swap his cashmere sweater for a cotton one. Alternatively they both swap their over coats for macs
Jamie Oliver’s Army
He will also put on shorts at first opportunity but will team them up with sporty Merril trainers and a North Face kagoul in case of a chill. She’ll play it safe and be one of the last at work to shed her tights - while stocking up on cardies that are “a bit different” to distract from her conservatism.
There was much uproar a couple of weeks ago about a song called ‘Friday’, the debut single by a 13-year-old American singer called Rebecca Black. The Daily Mail suggested it made her famous ‘for all the wrong reasons’. It was posted on YouTube on March 11 and by March 19 was being called ‘The worst single ever made, ever’. The video has been watched in excess of 42 million times, apparently largely because of further damning praise calling it ‘the most irritating of all time’ and its singer ‘the worst singer in the world’. And to be fair, ‘Friday’ is unlikely to be mistaken for the work of Radiohead. Detailing a teenager getting ready for the weekend, it notes: ‘Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday/ Today is Friday, Friday/ Tomorrow is Saturday/ And Sunday comes afterwards’. Later on it describes a car journey: ‘Kickin in the front seat/ Sittin’ in the back seat/ Gotta make my mind up/ Which seat can I take?’
Black has apparently been targeted by ‘cyberbullies’, some of whom, the newspapers have suggested, said ‘she deserved to die’. Still, Black seems to be having the last laugh. Forbes magazine estimates that her YouTube views could have netted her $20,000 alone, while she’s racing up the iTunes chart and beating the likes of Katy Perry and Britney Spears in the process. And Black’s critics have missed the point. Calling it the worst single of all time is ridiculous. U2's last album was much worse.
What’s more there are certain places where being irritating is the key to success. The boss of the Go Compare website was recently asked why her TV adverts featuring a faux-tenor called Gio Compario bellowing the name of the company were so bad. What were they thinking? Simple, she said. Our brief to the ad agency was to make the adverts “as irritating as possible”. (The success of those adverts has helped make her company worth £400m). You might say the same of their rivals over at Compare The Meerkat. Irritating equals memorable, and memorable equals sales. And advertising and pop aren’t such different beasts. Vince Clarke, who played the keyboard in Yazoo and Erasure, used to flit between the Top 10 and writing advertising jingles with the greatest of ease and no small amount of success in both.
Think of irritating pop and ‘Barbie Girl’ or ‘Mr Blobby’ might come to mind. But I’d also say the same for ‘My Name Is…’ by Eminem or ‘Country House’ by Blur or ‘Space Oddity’ by David Bowie. ‘Eight Days A Week’ by The Beatles is a pretty irritating song. And its lyrics are no less daft than Rebecca Black’s ‘Friday’. Let the haters hate, at 13-years-old Rebecca Black may be better placed than most to have grasped one of the central tenets of pop – and irritating us all, all the way to the bank.