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Dear Blanche... Part One

2011-09-13T23:48:00.000+01:00

Dear Blanche...

If you have a problem that needs sorting, our straight talking, ever so slightly bitter; Mikie, has the solution. What's your dilema?

Introducing our fabulous new agony aunt column

Whether you’re having trouble taming your incestuous love child or your addiction to Primark, Mikie (Dear Blanche) is here for you, probably with a lethal injection of pre-loaded venom, it’s your last chance for help before you end up on the Jeremy Kyle show.

Bitching with Blanche - A CORONATION STREET SPECIAL

Dear Blanche...

I’m truly at the end of my tether; I’m convinced that my daughter is Satan’s child.
It all started back in 1995 when she started taking Ecstasy in nightclubs, so much so that she had kidney disease as a farfetched result.

I knew things weren’t right from an early age; I could never use the normal forms of punishment like sending her to bed with no tea. The four times I did this she came back down even worse and looking almost like a completely different person, some would even argue she was.

I’m afraid that this is just the tip of the iceberg, more recently she’s tried to sell her own baby to a desperate transsexual, that was before she got imprisoned for killing her husband. I don’t believe that she is all-bad and I believe her when she said it was self-defense. She even got acquitted of the murder on New Years Eve to make a perfectly timed entrance to a memorial service to the late victims of a computer generated tram crash.

Just last month she brought more trouble to the doorstep, she had been black mailing her ex husband’s new wife, Becky, who eventually couldn’t take anymore. I can’t really blame my daughter, Tracey, for doing so as between you and me Becky is a bad egg and has been accommodated at her majesties pleasure more times than me and my daughter put together. Becky even knocked down our front door with a sledge-hammer and destroyed some very precious pottery I’d made myself at my evening class.

Just what can I do to calm my daughter down and get her back on the straight and narrow once and for all. My neck is beginning to look like a turkey’s, it can’t take the strain of any more tears and neither can I.

Forever desperate,

Deirdre, Weatherfield.

Dear ~~Dreary~~ Deirdre,

What a life you must have led, I’m positively drained just by reading your letter, it’s shocked me to the very routes of my bunions, so much so I’ve had to bypass my afternoon G’n’T and reach straight for my bottle of Johnnie Walker – Blue Label, King George V Edition. I don’t mean to brag about such a purchase, I did intend to acquire a conventional bottle but like a slightly overweight bee to honey I found myself drawn to the shiny curves of the delicious bottle.

I couldn’t help but think you weren’t telling me everything so I did a quick Google search of your signature and was most appalled that you have not told me a full story, although as you seem to be from a family that could be rightly burnt at the stake I was not surprised by your lies, in fact one can only be grateful that you weren’t as the amount of Estaee Lauder Youth Dew and cheap nylon you wear you’d certainly take the town up with you.

To be quite honest it sounds to me like your daughter has been dragged up by a pack of wolves with you being the leading Vixen. You can hardly consider yourself a role model when you were about to abandon your daughter for a Moroccan Pimp and flee the country. It really is a shame that you didn’t plan on taking your daughter, it would have saved us all the pain of watching her trying to act for all these years. One can’t help but think her time would have been better spent if she’d been imprisoned at Sylvia Young School of Theatre and not at Her Majesties Pleasure. You should count your lucky stars she’s not been tried for crimes against drama, though one can only pray there’s still time; she’d certainly get life.

My advice to you would be to destroy your daughter like you would a stray mongrel – have her put down. I’m sure your old cellmate Jackie Dobbs could provide you with an untraceable poison to prematurely end her life, although I’m sure I’m not the only one who would have been thankful had she’d been burnt alive in the great Rovers fire of ’86. One can only dream of the day we hear you screech ‘Oh Tracy Love,’ for the very last time. Until then I suggest you send her back up to her room and keep her heavily sedated until she comes back down many years later as a much nicer person and far better actress.

Now where did I put that gin…

Your ever listening

Blanche.

Dear Blanche...

I am friends with this girl (purely just friends, as she is not single)
We chat and text, I text and just say stuff like "Hey what you up to" but her boyfriend will send messages over facebook saying how I am trying to get with her and that I giver her certain looks. I wouldn’t have a problem with him if he would just chill out and realize I am just being friendly by sending a text and that yes maybe I do say some stuff like ‘hey your looking pretty sexy today’ and just play around but she never minds and she like to have a little innocent fun now and again.

Just today i have had a message saying back the **** off and stop looking at her as if you want to get with her. I never give those looks and have never thought about getting with her because yeah she is a great person but I wouldn’t want a relationship with her.

Is there any thing i can do to make him realise this is just the case because it has come to the point I am getting as bad as him by sending messages back to provock him and annoy him and I dont want to make it sound or look as if ther is something going on because there really isnt and I am finding it extremely annoying!

Dean, Bolton.

Firstly Dean please go back to school and learn how to punctuate, trying to piece together your message has given me a headache, or maybe that was the gin; I knew I should have put tonic in it.

Secondly Dean, whilst you’re at school you could take a visit to the playground and discuss the problem with this other man as it sounds to me this is where you both belong. I do find it deluding of you to think that calling another mans’ Juliet sexy is appropriate, mind you a man who more than likely still wears Super Ted pajamas is clearly socially inept.

I think the best thing you could do to solve the situation is to have a good old-fashioned schoolyard altercation, that’s a punch up, just incase you didn’t know, like the snotty nosed little schoolboy shit you are. You could sell tickets, advertise it as a dual; a melee to win the heart of a fair maiden, I’d certainly buy a ticket just to watch someone knock seven shades of shit out of you.

Love forever,

Blanche

Julie E Gordon

2011-09-13T23:45:00.002+01:00

Julie E Gordon Interview

There’s not many successful independent vocalist around these days and even fewer who don’t mind you interviewing them in bed...

We caught up with the melody that is Julie E Gordon,
a positive whirlwind with a chocolatey smooth voice

Julie, afternoon, how are you? welcome to ManchesterGossip.

I’m good thank you. I hear you’ve been very busy today.

I’ve just landed off a flight; if I’m honest I’m in bed with my laptop and mobile trying to be professional.

As long as you’ve not got Jeremy Kylie on I’ll let you off.

Oh no, I could never do such a thing; I’m scared of Graham.

(laughs)

Firstly Julie can you tell us what the E stands for?

When I was in high school I was bullied and spent a lot of time in the hall singing and playing on the piano. The only cord I knew how to find was the E minus so I spent a lot of time singing with just a few notes, always coming back to the little black E minus as it was the easiest one to find. (laughs) I do now sing in more than just one key. With the help of all the new computer software it kinda allows me to cheat a little with the keyboard. Don’t tell anyone though as they’ll put me in a box. It did help me develop though and find my self taught unique sound.

You’re originally from Dudley and moved to Manchester in 1992 to study Performance and Media at Salford Uni, do you think that having a degree makes you more respectful as a musician?

Yes and no in a way. There is no doubt that education is an invaluable passport and teaches you discipline and how to manage the tools of your trade along with the theory. However, I don’t think it’s the be all and end all. Artists have educated themselves from the street, almost like a life ethos. It’s allowed them to be creative; at the end of the day I certainly believe that the creativity is the key and drawing from your own experiences feeds this. The university of life is just as important.

Open-mic nights are a perfect opportunity to network

You used to attend open-mic nights and through this met a collaboration of artists called speak easy. Is this where you gained your true education in music?

Absolutely, jamming was new to me, the experiences of the individuals I met was nourishment to my hunger to grow as an artist. Life is a hustle and you have to take certain risk. Open-mic nights are a perfect opportunity to network with people who are in your circuit and to watch other artist to enable you to grow musically yourself. It was very much about me showing what I could do too, wanting people to think "that’s a girl who is confident".

During this time was there any individuals who really influenced you?

I was surrounded by talent and through them met some many amazing people and gained opportunities, the McCloud brother at Moolah Rouge Studios, Darren was a mentor for me and really helped me progress, Sunny Levene and of course the Happy Mondays. Shirley Mae from Speakeasy was also an inspirational poet with an incredible spirit. Not forgetting my long-term partner Ian Valentine who has been incredibly supportive and led me to live my dream.

Did they open your eyes to a new genre of music that you hadn’t necessarily been interested in before?

"I think it’s very easy to be stereotyped, if you’re black then you must be a soul or RnB performer"

I myself was brought up with gospel music as my main influence. As a session singer for other bands I suppose it was easier for me to explore other types of music as I was singing their songs. I never thought as a girl from Dudley who was a gospel singer that I would ever listen to rock n roll or indie music, ironically Happy Mondays found me and I become more than just RnB. I discovered rock n roll and Indie music. Soul of course remains important, other singers have said that British Soul has started to die, I don’t think that’s the case at all. There are so many different types of genres now, grime, punk, indie, pop, funk but I believe that they are a collective and that soul has never gone away.

"On stage in front of 70,000 screaming fans,
I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves."

You’ve travelled vastly on tour with the Happy Mondays, including Japan. How does a Japanese audience compare to us crazy Mancunians?

(laughs excitedly) Mikie you can’t ask me that. I’ve got to say (and she does so with pure passion and with the excitement of a school girl) Japan is where its at. That’s no disrespect to Manchester, I am after all after 20 years an honorary Manc and it’s my home but my experience in Japan will on with me forever. I’d gone from playing to a crowd of 20 people to suddenly be flown half way around the world to the Fuji Rock Festival and found myself on stage in front of 70,000 screaming fans. I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves. As I looked out at all the lighters in the air and as the first few notes began to engage the audience my breath was completely taken away. I was in ore of the crowd and genuinely didn’t think I was going to be able to do it. It was at that moment I thought I have conquered my dreams. Music unites people and the tears of happiness could get to you no matter where you come from. I thought then that if I woke up tomorrow and I had to go and work in TESCO it wouldn’t bother me; I’d always have that moment. It was a great lesson to embrace who you are, believe in yourself and change if you want to.

Manchester is different in the way that you really have to work for your status; I don’t mean that as a bad thing, as it’s you’re home you want to give so much more. It’s like putting your heart on a plate.

You’ve collaborated as a vocalist with a spectrum of artist. In a fantasy world if you could choose someone dead or alive to release one track with who would it be?

(without any hesitation) Just give me Grace, fierce bond girl. I know she’s a handsome woman but she exudes power, she’s a strong lady, I like to think of myself the same way, I just like to surround myself with flowers. She’s so disciplined in her presence.

(Laughs) I like that, I’m going to start telling people I’m a strong man, I just like to surround myself in flowers. You’re track Be Again is almost quite an eerie sound. It instantly reminded me of the amazing Siobhan Donaghy’s album Ghost, haunting and ethereal. I almost felt it was a statement that you can reinvent yourself as many times as you like. Was that your intent?Thank you that’s an amazing compliment, you’ve hit a nerve. It’s quite a deep song. It was written when I was at a low point. I suffer from sickle-cell anemia; it’s a disease more common in black people. The song was a release; almost message like to friends who have died of the disease. The eerie sound is a reflection of those that have passed over so I’m really happy you picked up on it. When you have sickle-cell the red blood cells develop an abnormal characteristic and eventually cease to be. However the body continually makes more, it’s a reinvention as is hopefully the spirits of people who have died from this disease; this is, as I hoped, reflected in the LP.

It truly is an amazing track the lyrics are very poignant. It’s defiantly a song I’d play if I were feeling down. It’s almost like a pat on the back to say everything will be ok and if it’s not you have the power to change.

With the rise of talent shows it’s becoming harder for solo vocalists to get their tracks out there to the masses. These record companies now expect mega bucks returns on a single album, they certainly don’t give time for talent to nurture itself anymore. Have you been a victim to this or have you even considered doing The X Factor in the past?.

I actually did The X Factor the year Rowetta did it, which is quite ironic as I then got Rowetta’s job with the Mondays. The X Factor is just a show; they are not too concerned about individuals, they know what they are looking for before the series starts.

Simon Cowell said to me
"this show isn’t for you"

Rumor has it that the producers have actually chosen the winner before the series hits the screen and that us as viewer are guided on who to vote for through manipulation of screen time etc. it’s something I actually believe in.

Exactly, I remember Simon saying to me ‘this show isn’t for you.’ I actually made it into the final 16. The first year they did X Factor it was a mess, the way they almost hung the contestants out to dry after the series. How can you give someone so much media hype and press attention then whip it away from them with no back up? There were a few girls who needed more than just a doctor after that spin machine.

You can certainly tell in the charts who is an ex X Factor contestant can’t you?

There’s not much individuality about them, they have a pool of writers with hits waiting for them.

I suppose it’s like the producer Red One, he’s worked with all the biggest stars from Lady Gaga to the Sugababes, you can tell one of his tracks a mile off. The bands or artist are just vessels for the producer.

It’s almost like a conveyor belt. They manufacture pop groups, if they’re lucky they have a good three years of working constantly before they get burnt out then before you know it there’s another group in taking their place and the thing goes on and on.

What advice would you give to artists who are just starting out in the business?

"Know your own sound, keep your signature, don’t let others try and steer you in a direction you don’t want to go"

I’m lucky that I am me, a solo project, from the writing to the producing; it’s essentially my LP.

It’s even more essential to consult a music layer to make sure you are the owner of your own craft. It’s more important to do this than spend money on hiring studio time. This is some advice what I was given and would tell others to do the same. Also protect your music; register it for free with PPL. And don’t forget be very wary if you enter a competition, make sure you check the contract, essentially when you sign you’re signing your life away for two years. If you don’t do your groundwork then you’re in trouble. But never give up. And get yourself to an open-mic night.

Finally what’s next for Julie E Gordon?

Keep an eye out for my new record 100 Pennies out soon. Lots more writing to come, and a few surprises. I’ve currently got 4 dance tracks signed to Time Warp records, which are going global.

Julie it’s been our pleasure having you at Manchester Gossip, I trust I’ll see you in Manchester soon for a few Sherries?

You certainly will.

Don’t miss Julie E Gordon’s album Deep Inside, available to download from iTunes now, as is the brand new single 100 Pennies.

Happy Flyting

2011-09-13T23:43:00.002+01:00

Happy Flyting

After the success of "Come Fly With Me" I thought I’d give you a few more real confessions of a long haul low cost airline...

These tales are all based on true events
that happened at just one airline.

After the success of Come Fly With Me by the geniuses’ that are Matt Lucas and David Walliams I thought I’d give you a few more real confessions to what goes on at a long haul low cost airline. You might then see that Matt and David’s new creation isn’t as far fetched, as it seems.

Two infants running up and down the aisle whilst trying to pour tea and coffee. Their mother refuses to tell them to sit down so we phone the captain and ask him to put the fasten seat belt sign on. We announce that we are expecting some light turbulence, this obviously doesn’t materialize and the seatbelt sign goes off as soon as the meal service is finished.

‘Ladies and gentleman due to a technical fault there will be no in-flight entertainment on todays 13 hour trip from Manchester to Cape Town, we apologize for the inconvenience and we assure you it will be fixed for your return journey.’ What we really wanted to say was ‘Sorry guys but the TVs aren’t working again. They haven’t done for the last few months as the aircraft isn’t on the ground long enough to get fixed and the owner is a tight arse which is also the reason that 3 of the ovens aren’t working and two of the toilets, the call bells, reading lights and your individual air vents, but please be rest assured that the aircraft is structurally sound and that the engineer himself assured me that the wing is completely safe after they used two rolls of sellotape and a full packet of HubbaBuba to secure it.’

‘I’m very sorry madam but unfortunately they didn’t put Vodka on our duty free carts today.’ Previous to this the crew emptied some large water bottles and filled them using the vodka miniatures onboard the aircraft then put them in their crew bags ready for a party in Toronto.

Ladies and gentleman we hope you’ve enjoyed
your flight with us today as much as we
have enjoyed taking you for a ride.’

‘Ladies and gentleman unfortunately we do have a little problem with our inflight catering today as we have no knives and folks onboard. Todays meal is sausage, peas and mash which we invite you to indulge in using your drinks stirrer. Your inflight meal was freshly prepared for you last month and has been cooked to perfection after being stored in the deep freeze in the cockroach infested aircraft hanger. Bon ape tie ’

‘Once again we’d like to apologize that our toilets are out of service, however if you are desperate to go before we touch down in Manchester in just under 9 hours time we do invite you to piss in the sink.’

‘Ladies and gentleman welcome aboard our direct flight from London Stanstead to Toronto Hamilton International airport calling at Newcastle and Edinburgh. We’d like to apologize for the slight 5 hour delay but we do aim to make up at least 10 minutes when we’ve closed the aircraft doors and get on our way in approximately 3 hours time.’

‘Ladies and gentleman welcome to Orlando Stanford International airport where we have some good and bad news for you. The bad news is whilst we have been in the air the airline has gone bust and therefore you’ll have to find your own way home. The good news however is that the crew have left the duty free carts open in the galley for you to help yourself. Happy holidays.’

Until next time, Happy Flyting!

2011-09-13T23:42:00.001+01:00

Coronation Streets 'Becky' aka Katherine Kelly tells us why she’s pationate about being a H.A.W.C.S. patron.

HAWCS | Habitat and Wildlife Conservation Society

It’s all too easy to see something that we don’t like and turn a blind eye, either pretending that it didn’t happen or to conclude that someone else will fix the problem, or possibly because the task ahead seems so enormous that it’s easier to do nothing. One lady who isn’t daunted by such an undertaking is local businesswoman Sharen McBride.

After visiting Indonesia, Sharen, so moved by the animal cruelty she witnessed there, that on her return she enrolled at Salford University studying a degree in Animal Conservation and Zoo Biology. Degree completed Sharen then took on the mammoth task of setting up HAWCS (Habitat and Wildlife Conservation Society), a charity whose aim seems so enormous that it’s hard to believe that one lady started it all. Earlier this week Coronation Street’s Katherine Kelly, HAWCS patron, told us why she’s behind Sharen every step of the way.

Katherine kelly Interview

Can you tell us a little about HAWKS?
Yes, it’s a small charity in its infancy. And I am delighted to have been involved from the start. Its mission statement is huge and ambitious, but we are taking things one-step at a time. It’s about habitat preservation and literally, trying to save our beautiful earth. I’m particularly interested in the educational focus, both here and overseas.

Of course education is the key to all change. HAWCS aims to educate people in Sumatra about the rich qualities the endangered species have that are currently threatened, including the Sumatran Sun Bear which are hunted in belief that their gall bladders contain medicinal qualities and The Hairy Nosed Otter, which until 1998 was though to be extinct.

What made you want to get involved?
Sharen is one of the most selfless, inspiring people I have ever met. She is passionate about this brand new charity. And I love that she gets her hands dirty. My time is very limited at the moment due to work commitments but when she told me about her goals I felt moved to support her plight in whatever way I can.

It’s a cruel world and don’t we just know it

I was actually at the HAWCS launch event last year; some of the images of animal cruelty were shocking to say the least, what was your personal reaction to them? Sickened, of course. It’s a cruel world and don’t we just know it. Who wouldn’t want to do their bit to stop it?

Having seen these images were they a catalyst for your continued support of HAWCS?
Sadly, as shocking as these images are, they come as no surprise to anyone. We know this goes on. It just reminds us that we have to do something if we possibly can. Even if that just means reading the website or donating a fiver. Sharen is the catalyst for me - I call her a “Jungle Warrior!”

On the 9th July you’ll be hosting a fund raising event at Samuel Plats in Manchester, what can we expect at the event?
A fun, informal fundraiser. Come along. You will be welcome with open arms, dig deep and feel good about yourself!! They’ll be live music so bring your dancing shoes; it’s a perfect excuse for a fabulous night out.

Can we expect to see any fellow Corrie residents there?
I can’t speak for anyone else but I will be there with bells on.

How can people get involved and how can I get my hands on some tickets?
You can become a member of HAWCS via their website; HAWCS.co.uk , you can also make a one off donation there and join their facebook group for updates to all their future events (http://on.fb.me/miP0dS) . You can buy tickets directly from Samuel Platts.

We obviously couldn’t speak to you without asking about the force of nature that is Becky McDonald. You are responsible for my favorite line ever in a soap; ‘talk to the sledge hammer.’ I am of course referring to your recent attack on the Barlow’s house, although a very dramatic scene it looked like a lot of fun to do?
Who wouldn’t enjoy smashing Tracy Barlow’s front room!

How many front doors did you have to smash or was in done in one take?
I think we went through about 8!

You’ve had just a few scrapes on Corrie, have any of them ever gone wrong and you’ve ended up with a black eye for our entertainment?
I’m always black and blue from them. I bruise like a peach!

Have you got your eye on anything to take as a souvenir?
My Becky necklace of course!

And finally... as we are Manchester Gossip can you leave us with a juicy piece of gossip fresh from the set of Weatherfield?
We also shot a scene when I said “Here’s Becky” instead of ‘Talk to the sledgehammer” so the producer could decide in the edit. So I watched along with the nation to see which they decided worked best! I agree with the choice! Sounds like you do too Mike!

The HAWCS Red Carpet Fundraiser

Queer As TV Folk

2011-09-13T23:40:00.000+01:00

It’s been a long time since Colin Russell and Barry Clark had the first on screen kiss in a TV soap back in a 1987 episode of EastEnders prompting thousands of complaints from viewers and the soap labeled as ‘EastBenders.’ Fast-forward 24 years and there isn’t now a single soap without a gay character, a sure sign of the changed times and acceptance in society.

Here we look back at your favourites

Waylon Smithers Jr
The Simpsons

After years of rumors that he was in unrequited love with Mr. Burns, Smithers finally came out by staying in. In Springfield’s 2002 Gay Pride parade Smithers was seen riding a float called ‘Stayin’ In The Closet.’

Tom Farrel
Gimme Gimme Gimme

‘Vomit inducingly vile’ Tom was the flat mate of socially inept Linda La Hughes. Based at 69 Paradise Passage Tom was a failing actor who often bragged about his 15 seconds as an extra on Eastenders to anyone who would listen, including Beryl his landlady who use to run a brothel. His love/hate relationship with Linda seen them spend three years sending putrid but hilariously sarcastic one-liners back and forth.

Tom was last seen in a taxi heading north after landing a part as the Bell Boy in Crossroads. Created by Jonathan Harvey who is also responsible for the amazing film Beautiful Thing.

Mickey McGuire | Shameless

Violent drug dealing Mickey with just a hint of behavioral problems is son of Paddy and Mimi; the Chatsworth estates drug dealing hard nuts. Despite his aggressive exterior Mickey tries several times to better himself, including enrolling at college to study film. However he soon discovers his passion is in writing erotic literature, which leads to having an affair with his tutor.

Just don’t mention his beloved dog Nelson who was put down after his family discovered Mickey had put some Pedigree Chum in some very dodgy places.

Tony Hills & Simon Raymond
Eastenders

Tony turned up in 1995 and it wasn’t long before he was causing trouble on the square. The ladies man started selling ecstasy and shortly after started dating Tiffany Raymond, however it was Tiffany’s brother Simon that Tony was falling for. After a long will they wont they build up Tony and Simon finally kissed in Blackpool. Like all good dramas, Tiffany later caught them in the act back in Walford.

Turbulent months lay ahead for Tony including finding out his baby with Tiffany was actually Grants’. Tony later went on to have relationships with several other women before finally accepting he was bisexual. Simon on the other hand had a mental breakdown after his sister was killed in a car crash. Accidently setting fire to his mums flat shortly followed, as did a kidnap attempt of his niece.

Eventually Simon and Tony reconciled and walked off together into the sunset to travel Europe in 1999. Watch the classic clip below:

Mr. Humphries
Are You Being Served

Who could forget this fabulous camp sales assistant of the menswear apartment in Grace Brother’s famous department store? Although there was a never a time his sexuality was discussed it was the innuendo of many jokes.

His mincing walk and camp catchphrase ‘I’m free’ accompanied by his willingness to be ever ready to take the measurement of an inside leg. In one episode Mrs. Slocomb asks Mr. Humphries if he is relieved or disappointed to which he replies ‘I’m neither one way or another.’

Frank Pickle | Vicar Of Dibley

Lonely eccentric Frank is the secretary for Dibley Parish Council. Extremely boring he is the frustration of many of the villagers’ lives, full of useless information and stories such as ‘the time I heard a cuckoo in March that later turned out to be a pigeon.’ Frank plucks up the courage to finally come out live on his radio show. The next day he is thrilled to discover that all the villagers treat him indifferently, unbeknown to him, with the exception of the vicar, not one of them tuned in.

Quentin Crisp
Naked Civil Servant

‘Sexual Intercourse is a Poor Substitute for Masturbation’ is just one of the eccentric and shocking subtitles in this 1975 TV movie. The film is a portrayal of obstacles, prejudice and courage. The film simply speaks for itself so instead of me saying more all I’ll do is encourage you to watch the full movie here on YouTube.

What I will say is that the film came in 4th position in a poll to find the 100 Greatest British Films of the 20th Century. John Hurt also won the award for Best Actor in 1976 for his portrayal of Quentin at the BAFTA Awards.

Kurt Hummel | Glee

Camp bullied schoolboy Kurt first appeared on our TV screens in 2010 struggling not to come to terms with his sexuality but with the fear of losing his loved ones if he dares to live a life true to himself.

Many gays around the world have cried as they identify themselves with this beautifully portrayed and written character. Kurt has come out to his loving father who stood by him solidly and found romance in a relationship that every gay boy who ever went to school wanted - in the arms of Blaine.

Nathan Maloney
Queer As Folk

In 1998 Queer as Folk exploded onto Channel 4 screens. Centre of that was Nathan Maloney, a 15 year old school boy who in his own words ‘like cock, I like sucking cock and I’m good at it too.’ There is no doubt that this program was a stamp to say we’re here we’re queer and get the fuck over it.

Nathan went on to acquire and obsessive schoolboy crush with Stuart Allen Jones. His nerves of first entering the ‘gay scene’ soon turned to excitement as he discovered a hedonistic world of being exactly who you want to be. Something I’m sure any gay teenager who was brought up in Manchester could relate to when they strolled down Canal Street’s famous cobbles for the first time.

Nathan was proud of whom he is and if we believe what went on in the U.S version went on to become a very successful artist and eventually tamed Stuart Allen Jones. Best quote of the series ‘I’m doing it, I’m really doing it.’

Rickie | My So Called Life

In this very short-lived drama spanning just one series in 1994 Rickie made a big impact. Brought up and physically abused by his uncle. In a bid to express himself he wore bright clothes and eye makeup and felt most at home ‘in the girls bathroom.’ He is eventually kicked out by his uncle and fostered by his gay English teacher who becomes a mentor for Rickie.

Will O’Brien | Mile High

Quite possibly the most stereotypical gay trolley dolly to every hit our screens. For 3 years Will was the original cart tart and arch nemesis to Janice Steel calling her ‘mutton dressed as shite.’ Not only did he love to cause as many problems as he could, one time by wanking into a passengers chicken and mayo sandwich, he also loved straight boy Marco Bailey. In an end to the storyline Marco left leaving Will going off the rails on a drink and drug binge.

In the final ever episode we see Will and Janice have put their past behind them and have left Fresh Air to set up a bar in Marbella.

My Big Fat Royal Gypsy Wedding On Ice

2011-05-05T13:59:00.000+01:00

What a lovely week it’s been for national pride, it certainly is a week of feel good Britain. Who could ever forget the wedding of the century; who would of thought that so many Gypies, sorry I have just realized that’s not very politically correct anymore, who would have thought that so many thieving bastards that’ll strip your lead off your roof before you’ve had chance to blow your nose could fit into such a small space?

I was very impressed with Channel 4’s ability to link up Gypsy Wedding to the ceremony of our future King and Queen by inserting the word ‘Royal’ into the title; they had us all fooled. I for one was certain that the nomadic Romanian decent people had their own monarchy. I was even more convinced that Princess Beatrice was their current monarch.

The one connection that the two weddings had was the appalling outfits. Poor Beatrice had no idea that morning, as she got dressed in the dark, that by the afternoon she’d be the subject of mockery around the world. One can only hope at the next royal event she’s thrown in the tower of London to prevent her making any more appalling crimes against fashion.

Of course who could forget Pipa Middleton’s very public example of how to upstage the bride on her wedding day. All one needs is enough money to buy an Alexandra McQueen dress and a cheeky admiring glimpse from the 3^rd inline to the thrown, easily done. I for one am still trying to figure out how the Middleton’s managed to afford the wedding, after all, let’s not forget that Kate is a ‘commoner.’ She can often be found going through the drive through of her local McDonalds wearing her finest Primark in her 1996 Ford Fiesta.

It was nice to see the family out in force; even the queen had made a special effort in her canary yellow outfit, designed eloquently by TenaLady. There were many queens pissing themselves up and down Canal St when our Liz stepped out of her bungalow. One can only hope that her outfit had a built in toilet duck.

It would appear that on the day Toni&Guy were already fully booked and just couldn’t fit any more people into their London salon, leaving poor Harry to run to Superdrug for some wet-look gel. Rumor has it he got a bulk buy, well 2 for 75p. He was going to give one to William but thought better of it, instead Harry gave Will a bic razor. Will obviously confused about how to use it, and not being able to find instructions just shaved a circle hole on the back of his head. Palace officials have now confirmed he is considering a comb-over.

A Weight Issue

2011-03-02T14:26:00.000Z

Anyone who was around twitter on Sunday night could not have failed to notice all the derogatory comments aimed at the beautiful Coleen Nolan. They were coming quicker and faster than last week’s star of embarrassing bodies. Rather than being comments about Coleen’s ability to present, which she is clearly very good at, they were once again about her weight.

We all know the story of the celeb style magazines, such a celeb has put on weight, another celeb has lost weight oh and surprise surprise, there is Jordan in the back ground of a celeb party trying desperately to hang onto her little bit of fame she has. She’s stood next to a guest from channel 4’s embarrassing bodies (completely obsessed with this car crash program) who’s just showed the nation her vagina, which is in desperate need of a glade plugin. Have we become that use to these magazines that we ourselves have become just as judgmental or have we been seduced by TV to be that way inclined.

Is it that we now over look people’s talent because of the size of their waistline? I myself was on the receiving end of such feedback when I was just 16. I was massively over weight; in fact I was creeping up to 19 stone. I looked like an UmpaLumpa, albeit a camp one. At that time I was at drama school, had an agent and had filmed bit parts in Cold Feet and The Grimley’s. However my agent didn’t agree with my look and I was told that if I wanted to be successful I would have to be slim, well that’s the polite version of events. Just five months later, through a ridiculous diet, I had slimmed down to 12 stone. Shortly after that I told my agent to shove it. I never appeared on TV again.

There is no doubt that the TV stations themselves are portraying this same type of discrimination. After asking my followers on twitter to name a celebrity on TV who was a size 16 and over I received many responses but with only the following names repeated, Jo Brand, Katy Brand, Miranda Heart and Dawn French. Someone did also mention Vanessa Fletz, Vanessa herself insists she’s a size 14. Someone should inform her that just because she squeezes into one it doesn’t mean she is one. Should we also be concerned that these women that are larger sizes generally portray figures to be laughed at. This type of behavior is crossed over onto soaps too; EastEnder’s Heather and Coronation Street’s Eileen are both larger ladies and portray characters that are pathetically hopeless.

If we take the wonderful and amazing Allison Hammond as an example, she is a fantastic presenter, full of energy and a pleasure to watch, was she overlooked for the presenting job on This Morning because of her weight? We’ll never know. I personally think she was by far a better option to have taken over from Fern Britten than Holly Willoughby, not that Holly is bad at the job but Alison certainly has that added sparkle. With Holly soon going on maternity leave there will once again be an empty space on that sofa, will ITV finally make the right decision and give it to Alison? Only time will tell.

I guess what I’m trying to say is shouldn’t we be embracing the larger women that are on our TV screens. When the average dress size in the UK is now a size 16 why do we find it difficult to think of women on TV who are this size and larger? I think it’s time to embrace the curves; after all, what’s a wide screen for.

Let me know what you think, tweet me @handbagsnbotox.

2011-01-26T05:44:00.000Z

Happy Flyting.

· Two infants running up and down the aisle whilst trying to pour tea and coffee. Their mother refuses to tell them to sit down so we phone the captain and ask him to put the fasten seat belt sign on. We announce that we are expecting some light turbulence, this obviously doesn’t materialize and the seatbelt sign goes off as soon as the meal service is finished.
· ‘Ladies and gentleman due to a technical fault there will be no in-flight entertainment on todays 13 hour trip from Manchester to Cape Town, we apologize for the inconvenience and we assure you it will be fixed for your return journey.’ What we really wanted to say was ‘Sorry guys but the TVs aren’t working again. They haven’t done for the last few months as the aircraft isn’t on the ground long enough to get fixed and the owner is a tight arse which is also the reason that 3 of the ovens aren’t working and two of the toilets, the call bells, reading lights and your individual air vents, but please be rest assured that the aircraft is structurally sound and that the engineer himself assured me that the wing is completely safe after they used two rolls of sellotape and a full packet of HubbaBuba to secure it.’
· ‘I’m very sorry madam but unfortunately they didn’t put Vodka on our duty free carts today.’ Previous to this the crew emptied some large water bottles and filled them using the vodka miniatures onboard the aircraft then put them in their crew bags ready for a party in Toronto.
· ‘Ladies and gentleman we hope you’ve enjoyed your flight with us today as much as we have enjoyed taking you for a ride.’
· ‘Ladies and gentleman unfortunately we do have a little problem with our inflight catering today as we have no knives and folks onboard. Todays meal is sausage, peas and mash which we invite you to indulge in using your drinks stirrer. Your inflight meal was freshly prepared for you last month and has been cooked to perfection after being stored in the deep freeze in the cockroach infested aircraft hanger. Bon ape tie ’
· ‘Once again we’d like to apologize that our toilets are out of service, however if you are desperate to go before we touch down in Manchester in just under 9 hours time we do invite you to piss in the sink.’
· ‘Ladies and gentleman welcome aboard our direct flight from London Stanstead to Toronto Hamilton International airport calling at Newcastle and Edinburgh. We’d like to apologize for the slight 5 hour delay but we do aim to make up at least 10 minutes when we’ve closed the aircraft doors and get on our way in approximately 3 hours time.’
· ‘Ladies and gentleman welcome to Orlando Stanford International airport where we have some good and bad news for you. The bad news is whilst we have been in the air the airline has gone bust and therefore you’ll have to find your own way home. The good news however is that the crew have left the duty free carts open in the galley for you to help yourself. Happy holidays.’

Until next time, Happy Flyting!

Married Mondays

2011-01-26T05:41:00.000Z

I was introduced to this term not so long ago. If like me you don’t have a clue what it means I’ll tell you. It is the day of the week that the cattle market for cock, otherwise known as Gaydar, is full of married men who are desperate for little man on man ass play after being stuck with their wives all weekend.

The friend who informed me of this was shell shocked that I wasn’t interested in having any hands near me that had been knuckle deep in lady bits the day before. For him bagging a straight man was the pinnacle of his sexual fantasies, to me it would make my cock go limper quicker than a straight man flicking through a wank mag to find Vanessa Feltz was the center spread.

However, he is obviously not the only one who finds sex with a straight man a turn on. It is no secret to you, my lovely readers, that I’ve been stuck down on an army base for the last 4 months surrounded by some very hot squaddies in the Falkland and Ascension Islands. To me they are just objects that are very nice to look at, but to some of my fellow gay crewmembers they are the forbidden fruit, the object of all their desire.

Maybe I am the odd one out, you see I always knew I was gay from an early age and I never experimented with a woman. I had no need to, besides I’m hardly straight acting and I’m yet to find a woman who thinks my knowledge of STEPS dance routines are alluring. Although for the record I do a lovely rendition of ‘One For Sorrow.’ In fact I didn’t see a ladies’ ‘starfish’ until I was 22; I was down in Cape Town with work playing a game of truth or dare. I can honestly say the experience scared me for life. I had no idea that women had to pack a full hanging basket into their nickers.

I also found it disgusting after having that conversation with my ex boyfriends, all 29 of them, to find out they have slept with a women. It just makes me feel physically sick, I fail to see them in the same light as myself as a thoroughbred gay. This my friends is why I just can’t find a straight man alluring, knowing they have……*vomits at the thought*

It also can’t just be me who thinks that a man can’t call himself ‘straight’ if they are sleeping with another man. I think the terms liar, cheater and bastard would suit them more, I’m sure their wives would agree with me on that one. I’m sorry to ruin your fantasy boys but one of my good gay male friends was married and has two kids. He too cheated on his wife with a man. I wonder if that man thought it was a turn on to sleep with a ‘straight man.’ If only he could see my friend now who has swapped his lager for gin and tonic, his career as a landlord for a career as a trolley dolly and love for his wife into the love of cock.

Ladies and gays, I rest my case.

Straight Acting

2011-01-26T05:39:00.000Z

Straight Acting.

Is it just me or is the term ‘straight acting’ taking over the gay community? Having a little nosy on Gaydar, just to pass some time whilst I’m down here in the obis, otherwise known as the Falklands, I couldn’t help but notice every other profile stated that the person’s perfect partner would be ‘straight acting.’

I understand that we all have our own likes and dislikes including the types of men we find attractive, but this particular phrase really gets on my moobs. It infuriates me more than the talentless tit Holly Wiloughby presenting This Morning. She has ruined that show for me.

My reason is this: if it weren’t for the camp and slightly eccentric men of days gone by who marched for our rites as gay men, we would all still be visiting under ground bars and leading double lives (just like they still do in the Middle East). In my opinion these brave souls were real men, they were arrested for simply falling in love, harassed every day by the police, ‘outed’ in the press and segregated from the rest of society who deemed them sinful sodomisers.

Without discrimination laws to protect our previous friends of Dorothy, they lost their jobs with no union to protect or defend them as soon as their employers had a hint of their sexuality. If you’d like to know exactly what I am talking about, and why I would never buy a copy of the Daily Mail, I recommend you watch the very moving and informative movie Milk and the Channel 4 docudrama A Very British Sex Scandal, which you can watch either on YouTube or 4OD.

So next time you write on your profile that you’re looking for straight acting males, ask yourself if you have the balls to stand up and look diversity in the face and challenge it head on. And remember this, Gaydar, GayTimes, Attitude, HandbagsnBotox.com and all the other gay blogs and publications out there would not exist if it weren’t for our very camp and very brave predecessors. Nor would you be able to be so open as to post on a website that your perfect man is a straight acting bear who is into glory holes, fisting and anal bleaching.

Now excuse me whilst I go and iron my white vest top and sequin pants whilst I dance around to Girls Aloud and sip a gin and tonic before I mince into town embracing my inner campness and dance atrociously on a podium at a club of my choice.

Canal St - Boom or Bust

2011-01-26T05:35:00.000Z

Canal Street: Boom or Bust

It would be fair to say that our lovely Gay village has gone a bit stale of late. In fact its demise started a few years. The venues started to get stale; the drink prices went down and started to attract undesirables, mentioning no names, Manto. I mean really what were they thinking letting people go through the door in tracksuit bottoms, Rockport and genuine Elizabeth Duke? Don’t get me wrong I recognize that scallies need a place to socialize but why can’t they stick to Jeremy Kylie or Strangeways?

Perhaps my biggest hate at the moment in the Gay Village has to be AXM. I remember the nice days when it use to be on Canal St, it had a very strict gay door policy and attracted rather nice clientele. Unfortunately they took over Hollywood Showbar, which use to be one of my favorite camp pastimes. In order to fill the venue they opened up the door to everyone and ruined it as a nice and safe gay venue, turning it into Jeremy Kylies after show party.

Just this week Parlor Bar has closed it’s door as has my old favorite Spirit, both falling victim to the recession (are we still in one?) and declared ‘last orders’ for the final time. I can’t imagine Spirit being greatly missed, it was once my favorite bar but like the other bars on that side of the street fell victim to its own greed of opening up the venue to everyone.

It’s not all doom and gloom however: the fabulously camp and fun Churchills is undergoing a makeover this February and promises to be more fabulous than one of Miss Kitty Lashes’ frocks. Perhaps the most fabulous turn around has been for Essential, this place will always hold a special place in my heart. It was my first gay club I visited when I was just 16. Dancing whilst wearing sunglasses and sipping an Archer’s alcho-pop I thought I was so cool. I’m happy to say they would no longer let people like my old self through the door.

Essential was the place to be: the queues to get in use to snake around the street, the pop lounge alive with electric sweaty bodies. But somewhere along the line it lost its way, just like Kylie’s Impossible Princess phase. In a bid to resurrect itself it changed names to the appalling Mancunia, whoever thought of that was obviously gurning at the time. Sadly the queues disappeared and before long it closed down.

It seemed like there was no hope left for the once world-class venue. However a fabulous Geordie DJ named Nicksy, better known for Galaxy 102’s morning show Nicksy, Lindsey and Irish Alan, suddenly did for Essential what a little pair of gold sequined hot pants did for Kylie’s career. Dragging Essential back into its prime, the dance floors were packed once again and the entry queue was back snaking along the street bigger than it had ever been. The music choice was again fabulous, the entrance fees were right for the venue (it had previously rocketed), the pop lounge was now the main arena and perhaps the biggest pull for Essential The Next Generation was to have all the X Factor finalist perform the following week after they left the show.

Essential has certainly once again, 10 years after it first opened, set the standard in the village. It remains to be seen if the other venues will play catch up or if they will continue their sad demise. But one thing is for sure, as us gays start to socialize in venues we perhaps didn’t once frequent such as Castlefield’s Dukes and the Northern Quarter’s LeMarrs, the venues in the gay village need to play catch up or they too will find themselves saying ‘last orders’ for the final time.

Not Like They Use To Be

2010-10-25T07:54:00.000+01:00

We’ve all heard the phrase ‘they don’t make them like they use to,’ and it was just this week I heard myself repeating this phrase, thus rendering me official past it. I thought I was past it anyway, no longer can I go out four nights on a row and not suffer a hangover. I still go out, but by god does my head feel like I’ve just been battered with an angry trannie’s stiletto.

I was referring to the corn-flavored snack, Monster Munch, when I said the above phrase. The beef ones are my flavour of choice, but then you all knew that. My obsession with beef monster munch is like Jordan’s obsession with fame, desperate and cheap. You see they just don’t seem as big as they use to, either the monsters have got smaller or my hands have got bigger.

I then started thinking just what other things aren’t what they use to be like? Top of my list was good old British Television. What ever happened to the days when you could pop you tele on and Cilla Black would come on your box? I use to love Surprise Surprise. I’ll let you into a little secret; I use to dress up in my mum’s dresses when I was 7 and totter around the house in high heels singing the Surprise Surprise theme tune in a scouse accent.

Before I move onto my next topic I would also like to state for the record that I would like to see the following programs brought back to our screens; Challenge Anika, Brookside, Soldier Soldier, London’s Burning, Fat Friends, Smack The Pony, and my channel 5 favorite, Naked Elvis.

Next on my agenda to bring back would be the old cartoons. Quite frankly Pepa Pig gets on my tits and Dora the Explorer is nothing more than a common tart. How else would you explain her waking up in different countries at 7 in the morning? Quite frankly I think it’s disgusting. It should be called Dora’s Walk of Shame and screened post watershed.

Whatever happened to the innocence of Button Moon? And where have the Moomins gone too? I blame the Teletubbies for cheapening kids tv, it’s never fully recovered after Tinky Winkie’s sex tape scandal. My all time favorite kid’s show was Sooty. I think he may have been a great inspiration for me as a child as many men have made me feel like Sooty in my later years.

Next on my hit list has to be pop music. Since Steps vanished all those years ago there hasn’t really been any decent pop music about. Kylie has tried and just about managed to scrape a half decent album together, but let’s face it, she doesn’t give us dance routines we can all copy and perform on a Saturday night after sniffing a bottle of poppers and downing 5 Sambuccas. Where did B*witched disappear to? What happened to all the pop bands that use to grace Smash Hits magazine and Top Of The Pops magazine? What happened to those magazines? The only real decent pop music that has been released in the past 5 years is the amazing Disco Defenders album by Alcazar, and that didn’t even get a proper release.

Last on my list of things that aren’t what they use to be are Prisons and the UK justice system. I know I have ranted about this before but this really gets my back up. I would love to track down the person responsible for making the justice system completely unjustifiable. I would rip his head off, in a public place to gain mass media attention, and then shit in his neck. I have no doubt I would only serve two weeks in a prison that could easily be mistaken for a holiday camp and be made to attend an evening course in papier-mâché. I would then quite possibly be given a new identity and have my mortgage paid for and given enough money to travel to the Costa Del Sol twice a year.

Whilst I remember there is one salvation in the world of television entertainment in days gone by and that is the release of all Victoria Woods work on DVD this month. To celebrate have a browse through her back catalogue on the amazon link box below.

Now before I go if you have anything to add, anything at all that you feel isn’t what it use to be please email your thoughts to mikie@handbagsnbotox.com The best ones will be added very soon.

Now in the words of my here Sooty, ‘Bye Bye Everybody, Bye Bye.’

The Sweet Tune of Memories

2010-10-25T07:37:00.000+01:00

It’s surprising how a song can take you right back to a point in time when you least expect it. Sitting in a bar down in the Falklands I suddenly found myself transported back to 2001; sitting on the number 4 bus in York with my first love and his sister. Some clever spark had put Shakira, Whenever Wherever, on the jukebox. It wasn’t for them to know that this song choice would suddenly give me flash backs like out of a horror movie but I did have the sudden urge to scold them with a hot tea or coffee the next time they’re unfortunate to be on one of my flights. You see the bus driver had put this song on full blast just as I was in the middle of a blazing row with my ex.

It’s not just Shakira that haunts me, although she is the only recording artist that I would happily burn at the stake for crimes against music, Natasha Bedingfield also holds memories for me. Any track of hers from the Unwritten album takes me back to 2005 and over to Cyprus. This is my summer of obsession with a man named Craig, another one who turned out to be an absolute twat. It wasn’t just his persistent playing Natasha Bedingfield that got on my tits but his firm belief he was worth more than anyone else. Also the fact he’d openly said I was much fatter than anyone he’d normally go for didn’t really do much for my opinion of him, especially as I was only 11 stone.

Don’t get me wrong, there are also many happy memories hidden in music; just one beat of anything by Booty Luv brings a smile to my face. It also makes me long for a bottle of rose wine and makes me want to mince around my forgotten friend’s apartment laughing at jokes that only we would get.

Play Alcazar and you’ll soon see the real me. Anything by Alcazar makes me want to party. Alcazar is my obsession and holds no hidden meaning apart from a good time. One particular song of theirs called Shopping has quite possibly the best lyrics of any pop song; ‘you broke my heart and I go shopping shopping, you broke my heart, I put your name on a credit card and I go shopping shopping.’ Obviously written by someone fresh from the Paul McCartney school of music.

Any funky house track reminds me of my one true love. I can see his dance and his beaming jokers smile. I can smell his Star aftershave; it takes me back to a time when I was in complete ethereal love. It brings mixed emotions of comfort and love, but it also reminds me I no longer have that love anymore.

Perhaps the most embarrassing track I can ever listen to is the song Naked by Louise, formally of Eternal. The very thought of the song sends shudders up my spine and transports me back to the world of an awkward fat teenager. To be precise it takes me back to a drama lesson in 1999. As part of my drama project I thought it would be perfectly acceptable by my peers to perform an extremely camp dance routine to it, a routine that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Steps appearance on Top Of The Pops. After this, in my opinion BAFTA award-winning performance, there was no denying I was gay. This song outed me and scarred me for life.

Perhaps the most special album I own is the supreme Ghosts by Siobhan Donaghy. If ever I feel down and need music to be melancholy to this is my album of choice. What makes the album even more special to me is the fact that so few people own it. It makes me feel lucky to know I’m one of few who have ever had the joy of Miss Donaghy’s velvety vocals caressing my ears. The song So You Say holds a deep meaning to me. And although I like to think the album was wrote specially for me, I would like to share it with you. You can purchase it from amazon by clicking on Ms Donaghy's photo below or via this link Ghosts

Feel free to share what songs take you back. Email mikie@handbagsnbotox.com for your choice to be featured in a follow up article.

Would Like To Meet

2010-10-20T17:34:00.002+01:00

WLTM . . .

No one could say I don’t lead the life of riley. Working one day a week for a fantastic wage is more than acceptable one thinks. Especially when the other six are spent either on the beach in a remote tropical island or groping over sexed solders in the Falklands. I even find time to write these little witty columns for your amusement.

However, just recently one has been feeling like something is missing, like having a Jack Daniels without coke and ice, or Geri Helliwell without the smell of desperation. I’ve been looking for what has been missing; my Jean Paul Gautier make-up, a Victoria Wood DVD from my collection, a pair of Aussiebums, my designer stubble and charm? All there present and correct.

I did however have a Eureka moment; I actually had it whilst I was surrounded by a platoon of extremely hot army boys with more muscle than a seafood casserole. You see I was sat down in the NAAFI bar with my gorgeous MacBook, I think it makes me look like Carrie Bradshaw, when I was looking at old photos and suddenly I came face to face with my ex boyfriend for the first time in 18 months.

I have been single since I found myself climbing through his window; it’s a common enough situation to find your self in after ten Sambuccas. I have enjoyed being single, it’s nice to not have to answer to anyone. But, just recently I have found myself missing having that special someone to come home too. Maybe I’m an old romantic, I do like sending flowers or coming home to find that a bath has been run for me, with lit candles and a nice bottle of red wine.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m down here in the Falkland Islands so far away from home and being with someone here would make it that little bit more comforting. Either way I think it’s about time I found myself a nice gentleman friend to settle down with in Manchesterford.

Now I’m not desperate at all, I’m quite happy to wait for ‘the one’ to come along and sweep me off my feet, but in the mean time if you have a single friend, feel free to give them my number. I don’t mind too much about a little bad breath, and I’m not to bothered about a sense of humour or a little body odor. The use of all limbs is also not essential; neither is having all of your own teeth. I also will not hold a history of mental health problems against them. One thing that is essential however is a pulse, but like I say, I’m not desperate. . . .

I've never been in the army but the army has been in me, part four.

2010-10-19T19:39:00.000+01:00

I’ve Never Been In The Army But The Army Has Been In Me, Part 4.

As you all know I like a drink but I am in fact now in fear that my liver is going to give up any minute. This is of course due to the price of the vodka down here in the Falklands. With vodkas at 22p in the Nafi bar you can get pissed on two pound. Although, I think that 22p is taking the piss a little bit, two weeks ago it was only 19p. I blame new labour.

Now I truly believed that there would be no way of me outdoing myself in the humiliation stakes, especially after that unfortunate experience with the sea urgent, however it turned out as I was wrong. My friends will tell you I never drink vodka, it does something funny to me that sends me more psychopathic than a Z list celebrity on a reality tv show, mentioning no names, Vanessa Feltz.

Now I’m not sure if it was all the testosterone in the air from the suqaddies that made me go a little loopy, or the fact that despite me waiting patiently in the showers for six hours for an unsuspecting squaddie to turn up I’d left disappointed and more shrivelled up than Geri Halliwell’s showbiz career. So, I decided to take things into my own hands, literally.

Downing half a bottle of Malibu I thought the appropriate course of action was to pull my senior’s pants down before rubbing his cock. I wouldn’t call this a particular satisfying sexual experience, would you? This took place just shortly before I had vodka spat in my face and just after I’d vomited from smoking too many fags. The conclusion meant I was still moist but not perhaps in the way I would have liked. It also left me with the niggling feeling that my p46 could be shoved under my cell door at any moment.

Fortunately this happened two days ago and I’m still without my p46, actually, I have just received my roster telling me that I will be down here in the Falklands until way into January and I’ll be spending Christmas and New Year down here. Hopefully they’ll be lots of festive activities, such as the emptying of squaddies’ sacks, full of presents of course, and some festive games such as soggy biscuit (please google for the rules).

I would like to say that I learnt from my intoxicated experience, however this morning I woke up with vomit in my sink and a very scared looking penguin in my room, again.

Little Miss Gaydio

2010-07-26T15:44:00.001+01:00

Handbagsnbotox went live on air last week on the fabulous Nicksy show for Gaydio. You can now listen to the clip of the show below. Smashed flaps & dinks n snax were the subjects of the day.

Last week I had my first little taste of a life in the media (my stint on ITV show The Grimleys is not included, even Amanda Holden leaves that off her C.V) with a little interview on Gaydio. I was there to promote handbagsnbotox.com and discuss my smashed flaps & a case of mistaken identity. I really did have a fantastic time in the studio with Nicksy, although I was flabbergasted at just how gay I sound. I think Nicksy used some sort of voice alteration software as I’m sure I normally sound quite *ahem* butch.

I left the station feeling like my celebrity status had slightly increased and I admit after a few bottles of TriBecca wine after the interview I acted like any Z list celeb. Now the evening is surrounded by a haze of alcohol but I do remember karaoke being mentioned at some point. Now I’m not sure at what point I lost my jacket on the evening; before or after I lost my dignity, regardless of which if you find it down Canal St please return it to handbagsnbotox Towers.

I once again feel like I must apologise to anyone who saw me in such a state, I would also like to apologise to the lady stood at the bar buying a Sambuca, you’re right; you don’t look anything like Michelle McManus. I must also apologise to the taxi driver who took me home, he was Muslim and he got a full rundown of how I worked for Ethiopian Airways during the Hajj last year so therefor I was practically his brother.

I must further extend my apology to the taxi driver for realising I’d got no money on the way home and so I asked him to drop me off at the bottom of my road, presumably so I could run off from him. Stupidly I’d forgotten that in such a state I couldn’t run further than the kerb. He actually followed me up the road to my house, fortunately I did have a twenty pound note I’d left on the side for such eventualities. As you can imagine things like this actually happen quite allot to myself.

So there you have it, my short lived life in the media. I’ll now go and throw myself on the scrap heap along with Vanessa Feltz and Michael Barrymoore.

Mind you I could always be a wag…….

The Smell of Desperation

2010-07-26T14:11:00.000+01:00

You know that smell I mean, the lingering smell of cat piss when the neighbourhood moggy sneaks into your porch and decides to piss on your welcome matt. No matter how much shake and vac you put down the smell just doesn’t shift, lingering in the air like a curdled shite. Actually it’s not the aromatic scent of cat piss that has been lingering around my house recently but the pathetic smell of desperation.
About a month ago one of my friends convinced me that I had been single longer than what was acceptable (only 14 months) and that I should do something about it immediately. Well I’m not one for online dating after hearing all about Jason who is tall, dark, 25, lives in Castlefield and is hung like a donkey actually turned out to be Bernard who’s 63 and lives is Grimsby.

Basically I just don’t think online dating is safe, well not for my victims anyway. Regardless of this I decided to sign up to Gaydar, which can hardly be described as a dating site; more like a cattle market for cocks. I also downloaded Grindr on my iPhone which is the equivalent to a Sat Nav for sex.

I’ve not been on the dating game for so long that I just have no idea how to play it cool. As soon as I’m asked what I’m looking for I can almost hear my victims UGG boots running for their lives down Canal St as I reply ‘a husband, a Labrador and a house in the country.’ By my own admission I am one of those desperate fools that jump in feet first, that’s why I’ve found myself in more disastrous relationships than the annoying bitch that is Geri Halliwell. It’s also why I’d never do speed dating, my ego couldn’t take being rejected by 30 men in 30 minutes.

My most recent pathetic outing was with the boy who was the subject of my Dating Disaster blog. Only this time I didn’t even go on a date. Last week as I was preparing to leave work when I received a phone call from an unknown number, cautiously answering the call I was greeted by Lee on the other end who was obviously a little intoxicated. Now considering I hadn’t heard from him in six weeks the call did catch me a little off guard. He asked me if I wanted to meet up for a drink on my way home from work; part of me wanted to tell him to fuck off but the other part of me was desperately hoping that the physic I went to see the week before was right and that I was going to find the man of my dreams any minute and it would be someone from my past. I decided that 6 weeks was a sufficient enough time frame for him to be considered from my past.

Against my better judgement I rushed myself into town, however , as I was sat on the tram on my way to meet my long lost dream man I received a text from him telling me he couldn’t be bothered waiting and he was off home. Now I don’t mind admitting that I actually laughed out loud at myself. Never have I been so desperate or pathetic, except for the time I climbed through my ex-boyfriend’s window. So once again I’m giving up on the dating game and deleting my Gaydar profile immediately. No more dates for me at all, absolutely not; well not unless you can set me up?

Who Is She?

2010-07-08T21:19:00.003+01:00

Now it’s not unusual, as you all know, for me to make a complete and utter twat out of myself when under the influence of drinksnsnax; if there was an Oscar for the ‘Biggest Tit in the World’ I would win it year after year with no exceptions. I’m sure that if I tried to sue Jack Daniels for my bad judgement after two glasses of their delicious liquor that no judge in the land would find them not guilty.

It was a lovely recent little Saturday evening that I found myself once again acting disgraceful. As some of you may know the lovely Nicksy of Gaydio has been a wave of support for Handbagsnbotox, and the delicious Northern DJ has mentioned my blogs on air a few times whilst succumbing to my demands to play Angie Brown at regular intervals.

You can imagine my sheer delight when as intoxicated as I was I spotted Nicksy in Cruz101. Marching straight over to him I introduced myself, only he said he had no idea who I was. Obviously I knew he was lying, so after a few ‘fuck of Nicksy I know it’s you stop being a cunt’ later, my new gentleman friend took out his ID to show me his real name.

This is the moment that most normal people would have taken a step back and realised that this man called Andy was telling the truth, he wasn’t my favourite DJ, however, it only spurred me on. You see I was convinced that I was now in the presence of a real diva; that Andy was his real name and Nicksy was his showbiz name. Well all the greats have them, Lily Savage, Cilla Black.

After pleading for an autograph and continually telling him I used to love waking up with him in the mornings, on the radio that is, he realised the only way to shut me up was to ply me with Sambucca. Several dances to some old gay tunes later and my Nicksy doppelganger kissed me. I was flabbergasted and disgusted knowing that the real Nicksy was married, fearing a front page scandal on the Anglers Times I quickly pulled away. Asking my Nicksy about his marriage he said he was now divorced but had three kids; I couldn’t tell you who was more shocked, me for hearing about the kids or him as I knew he was married.

It wasn’t to matter for long anyway as he soon disappeared. The following day I received a few text messages from a guy called Andy and I wont lie, it did take me a while to realise it wasn't the real Nicksy, the real Nicksy was in fact 2000 miles away oblivious to the previous nights fuck up. However me and Andy did carry on chatting and he seems like a lovely bloke. In fact we've been chatting for a few weeks now and are off on our first date on Saturday, so as chat up lines go I don't think mistaking someone for a radio personality is a bad idea.

Just for the record I’d like to apologise to Nicksy’s husband Danny for nearly causing an online domestic via Twitter. I promise I will never try to make a move on anyone I think may be your husband ever again. As for Nicksy, we will ever meet………

Confessions of a Dating Dilemma, Part Three

2010-06-20T13:23:00.002+01:00

So I stayed over that night leaving first thing in the morning in a mad panic to get to work on time. Several texts were sent throughout the day, just the normal kind of thing, followed by a phone call that evening with an arrangement to go out the following night.

The next day, as I’m so poor till I get my first wage from my new job, my phone was cut off. I know, how council, so I had no way of texting him. I still assumed that we’d be going out that evening though. As the time passed by I thought I’d pop home for a shower after work instead of going to meet him straight away. I used a brillo pad and some wire wool to try and scrape of the scent of desperation. Anyway, time passed by and he didn’t get in touch so I phoned him to see what was going on; he’d decided to have a night in with one of his friends but hadn’t let me know. Even though I’d only met the lad once my blood boiled, I wasn’t to impressed and had the smallest of bitch fits, so small in fact I’m sure it wouldn’t even make it onto the bitch fit metre.

So a few days passed and heard nothing so I deleted his number, you know that thing you do to stop yourself from sending any drunken messages only to find yourself going through your inbox to hopefully find a message from them that you've missed. Just then he popped up online and I found myself apologising for slightly over reacting on the Wednesday to which he said he hadn’t even given it a thought he’d just been to busy with work. Call me an old fashioned type of girl but I think if you like someone you’ll always find time to send a text. Anyway he said we’d speak later that night, but yes you guessed it, we didn’t.

The next time I heard off him was three days later when he phoned me from Spain whilst he was on holiday to ask me where the gay bars were as I’d been to the resort a few times before. I’m sure the neighbours heard my jaw hit the floor. I honestly couldn’t believe his cheek. Not even a polite ‘how are you?’

Fast forward a few days and once again we were chatting on line and he said he’d like to meet again but was so distant you’d need a telescope to see him to, I told him bluntly to delete my number and that I couldn’t be arsed with game playing.

So you see, I am a complete disaster when it comes to dating. I am a self confessed compulsive over thinker; I analyse every little meaning and word. I will never get my head around why people feel the need to play games or lead each other on. Maybe it’s a downfall of mine that I tell people exactly what I’m thinking, maybe I come across to strong sometimes or rude at others.

That’s the second lad in two weeks I’ve met and told to delete my number, I don’t know what it is with gays these days, I wish they’d try and be a little more straight. And before you say I’m high maintenance I beg to differ, I’m just very expressive.

Now who’d like to take me out?

Confessions of a Dating Dilemma, Part Two

2010-06-13T22:59:00.001+01:00

Jean Paul Gautier make up applied I hoisted myself into a little yellow t shirt, even though I know I’m no longer slim enough to wear such articles of clothing. After carefully placing a bulldog clip just above my arse to pull back my love handles I decided I was ready to go. I didn’t plan on taking my t shirt off anyway, I was positive this was just a date and there’d be no funny business, well that and the fact I’ve have stretch marks all over my stomach which looks like I’ve had a tattoo of the A-Z.

Climbing aboard the tram to the other side of town I felt the nerves starting to get me. It didn’t really bother me though as I knew that after a large glass, who am I kidding, after a bottle of Blossom Hill the nerves would subside. Well I wasn’t disappointed when I met this lad; let’s call him Lee, because that’s his name. He was tall and handsome and had an amazing arse; you the not the type I mean, could crack Brazil nuts between perfectly formed cheeks.

Relaxing back at his place he revealed his hot tub in his garden where he’d made plans for us to have a quick dip, I quickly suffered a mild panic attack after realising I didn’t have my tankini to hand. I could also hear the police helicopter over head and was certain I’d make the 6 o clock news after being mistaken for a beached whale. Two hours of small talk later we went for a cig at the back door where he then pounced on the back of my neck, kissing me with such a force that made my knees buckle. It was a lovely time. As you know it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone and this was well worth the wait. It was gentle but passionate, his delicate plumped lips slowly moving from my lips to my neck.

As the steam was rising from my sling backs I took another glug of wine before he suggested going up stairs. Well I didn’t need to be asked twice. I felt an awkward moment as it was revealed we were both wearing the same pair of Aussiebums; his arsed filled his out perfectly, I could only pray that he couldn’t see the scaffolding that was holding mine in place.

You don’t need a running commentary of what happened next, but if you would like one feel free to phone my 0901 number where calls are charged at £1.50 a minute. Well after the bedroom frolics we went back downstairs where I polished off another bottle of wine before getting in the hub tub. Just then he dropped a bombshell ‘I’m not a big drinker.’ It was like a dagger through my heart. I knew immediately it would never work......

Part Three coming tomorrow.

Confessions of a dating dilemma, part one

2010-06-11T21:41:00.002+01:00

Confessions of a dating dilemma
I can’t bare it. It’s true; I’m completely hopeless with anything slightly related to dates or relationships. In fact the slight suggestion that I could possibly meet a suitable suitor sends me into anaphylactic shock. This could quite possibly explain why I haven’t been kissed where I wee in the last 11 months, or anywhere else for that matter.

After a little persuasion from my best friend Nikkie, well I find it hard to say no when I’ve been head locked and there’s a distant smell of petrol wafting over from the shed, I found myself signing up to a dating website. Now I use the term ‘dating’ loosely, it was Gaydar; it’s actually more like a cattle market for cock. Anyway I signed up, using photos that I could actually get sued over due to the trade descriptions act and this is what happened…..

After typing in the Manchester chat room ‘anyone looking for more than just shag?’ I was literally overwhelmed by the one response. As it turned out I actually quite liked this lads profile and personality, before you know it we were chatting on cam on msn and no you dirty bastards, it wasn’t cam sex. We arranged to meet the following day even though I obviously had no intensions of meeting him at all. Anyway, the next morning I got a text asking if I was still up for meeting, surprisingly I found myself biting the gusset and saying ‘yes.'

Now surely it’s not just me who then goes into panic overdrive, just how the fuck was I going to make myself look presentable for my date? Immediate body grooming commenced. Now it would be fair to say I’d somewhat let myself go, in fact the cast of Robin Hood had currently set up residence in my own Sherwood Forrest. Even though I had no intentions with sleeping with him on the first date I thought it would be for the best that I got my lawn morrow out, avec weed killer.

This problem solved, I then turned my attention to my slightly hairy back & bum, now I normally get this waxed but under time restrictions I decided to Veet. Now it is with this experience that I encourage anyone else thinking of doing the same to seriously rethink. After smelling my hair burning I then jumped into the shower to realise that my arse was also burning; a lesson to everyone out there to read the instructions on the label first. Out the shower I caught the site of my now patchy and hairy back in the mirror, however, undeterred I decided to carry on and get ready for the date; my burnt flaps in tow.

More to follow tomorrow……

About Mikie

2010-05-27T15:38:00.000+01:00

As some of you know, handbagsnbotox.com is about to get a make over. Here is a little sneak preview of the about mikie section of the site. I also want your sugesstions as to what you'd like to see on the new site so please leave your comments below. Just incase you're wondering who is in the photo with me, it's my sister.

In 1985 a child was born with bigger lungs than Dame Shirley Bassey and with equal horrendous dress sense. Struggling to grow up as a queen – drama queen that is – Mikie needed a creative outlet. Attending the same drama class as the 90’s Coronation Street kids, Mikie was sure he’d become a star. However, after a brief stint appearing in appalling ITV show The Grimleys and then Cold Feet, Mikie realised that he had enough drama in his own life without creating more on screen.

Turning his back on the theatre Mikie went on to become a sales assistant in Manchester’s very own gay beauty salon. After a few skin peels and a bit of Botox himself, he soon realised his skin was too good to be kept confined in Manchester so took to the skies as a Trolley Dolly. With more mince than Sainsbury’s, Mikie worked his magic up and down the aisle serving tea and coffee for British Airways, FlyGlobespan and AirAtlanta. Whilst travelling to glamorous destinations such as New York, Toronto, Cape Town and *ahem* Chad, he made a quick 9 month stop over in Cyprus where he earned his keep as a distinctly average hotel singer.

After studying English, Drama and Performance at Salford University he now works as a freelance writer and alternative agony aunt for moanaboutmen.com whilst also writing his first novel ‘Growing up a Queen.’ Now settled back into Manchester, after several restraining orders that prevent him from going south of Birmingham, Mikie spends his spare time watching Victoria Wood repeats, avoiding the gym and boasting about his praise from Sara Cox, Boy George, Eamonn Holmes, Pam Ann and his all time favourite, Dr Christian from Channel4’s Embarrassing Bodies.

handbagsnbotox

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Ladies and gentleman we hope you’ve enjoyedyour flight with us today as much as wehave enjoyed taking you for a ride.’

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Confessions of a Dating Dilemma, Part Two

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About Mikie

We caught up with the melody that is Julie E Gordon,
a positive whirlwind with a chocolatey smooth voice

"On stage in front of 70,000 screaming fans,
I felt like I’d been thrown to the wolves."

Simon Cowell said to me
"this show isn’t for you"

These tales are all based on true events
that happened at just one airline.

Ladies and gentleman we hope you’ve enjoyed
your flight with us today as much as we
have enjoyed taking you for a ride.’

Waylon Smithers Jr
The Simpsons

Tom Farrel
Gimme Gimme Gimme

Tony Hills & Simon Raymond
Eastenders

Mr. Humphries
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Quentin Crisp
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