The UO made fish & chips for dinner and we watched ‘Dynasty’. Alexis Carrington went to a very dramatic fortune teller who started shouting like a madwoman.
More or less a perfect evening.
Showing posts with label Dynasty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dynasty. Show all posts
Friday, 28 August 2009
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Monday 17 August 2009
Sometimes – from the fastness of the secret government bunker within which I work – are issued questionnaires, designed to plumb the very core of the minds of residents of our fair city. They are ostensibly composed of deceptively simple questions, in this case about disabled bays, but are cunningly constructed to bring forth deep psychological responses.
Today we received one back, anonymous, with a neatly typed rectangle of paper pritt-sticked to it.
‘Disabled people are a waste of space,’ it read. ‘They blather on about being equal to everyone else, and yet they have to have their own bays. What they need is euthanasia, and they can then serve the community by becoming lampshades, soap and fertiliser.’
I’m not usually one who is easily shocked, but I must confess to being a little alarmed by this.
There are people out there who have thought long enough about this issue to have come up with the idea of turning people into lampshades.
Later, I was wandering around Marks & Spencer, as you do, crumbling the crusts on the crusty rolls, just for the hell of it. I had my headphones on, listening to (although this is hardly relevant) The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, when an odd-looking old lady began tapping at my arm. I removed one headphone, guardedly, as women in Marks & Spencer have been proven to be – in a nationwide study – far more predisposed to violence than female shoppers in other stores.
‘Are you a musical person?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry?’ I responded, for the moment a little confused by the question.
‘Musical. Are you musical, luv?’
‘I imagine so,’ I replied. It is of course a historic euphemism for men like myself, who exist in the twilight lavender world of Dynasty fans.
‘I thought so. Good for you, son!’ she said, and gave me a hearty slap on the back before tottering off to tut at the state of the crusty rolls.
Back in the lavender world of Twilight, I cooked scampi and chips for the Ugly One and we caught up with some more Dynasty.
Alexis is putting it about that Fallon’s father is not Blake but Jeff’s oily uncle Cecil (pronounced Sea-sill). I can’t see that at all. He looks more musical than Liberace. Meanwhile, a new Italian Doctor is on the scene, Doctor Angus Canelloni, or some such name. He is up to no good, and is prone to making mysterious calls to an unknown recipient.
Before I went to bed I checked my e-mail and discovered that the editor of the marvellous magazine Monkey Kettle wishes to publish more of my work. Hoorah!
Today we received one back, anonymous, with a neatly typed rectangle of paper pritt-sticked to it.
‘Disabled people are a waste of space,’ it read. ‘They blather on about being equal to everyone else, and yet they have to have their own bays. What they need is euthanasia, and they can then serve the community by becoming lampshades, soap and fertiliser.’
I’m not usually one who is easily shocked, but I must confess to being a little alarmed by this.
There are people out there who have thought long enough about this issue to have come up with the idea of turning people into lampshades.
Later, I was wandering around Marks & Spencer, as you do, crumbling the crusts on the crusty rolls, just for the hell of it. I had my headphones on, listening to (although this is hardly relevant) The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, when an odd-looking old lady began tapping at my arm. I removed one headphone, guardedly, as women in Marks & Spencer have been proven to be – in a nationwide study – far more predisposed to violence than female shoppers in other stores.
‘Are you a musical person?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry?’ I responded, for the moment a little confused by the question.
‘Musical. Are you musical, luv?’
‘I imagine so,’ I replied. It is of course a historic euphemism for men like myself, who exist in the twilight lavender world of Dynasty fans.
‘I thought so. Good for you, son!’ she said, and gave me a hearty slap on the back before tottering off to tut at the state of the crusty rolls.
Back in the lavender world of Twilight, I cooked scampi and chips for the Ugly One and we caught up with some more Dynasty.
Alexis is putting it about that Fallon’s father is not Blake but Jeff’s oily uncle Cecil (pronounced Sea-sill). I can’t see that at all. He looks more musical than Liberace. Meanwhile, a new Italian Doctor is on the scene, Doctor Angus Canelloni, or some such name. He is up to no good, and is prone to making mysterious calls to an unknown recipient.
Before I went to bed I checked my e-mail and discovered that the editor of the marvellous magazine Monkey Kettle wishes to publish more of my work. Hoorah!
Monday, 17 August 2009
Saturday 15 August 2009
I went on a pilgrimage to Westbourne Grove on a hunt for Kaffir limes. I’ve been searching for them for some time, and have been unsuccessful, but a colleague recommended a Thai supermarket here. They did indeed have Kaffir limes, which I bought, along with some coriander and dried shrimps. I passed on the instant jellyfish (to which one just adds water to reconstitute what I am sure is a delightful repast). I also saw a bottle of ‘SQUID’ (in very large letters) Fish Sauce, along with a big picture of a happy squid on the label.
‘Oooh!’ I thought, ‘Squid fish sauce!’ and picked up the bottle, only to discover the ingredients to be anchovies and a smattering of additional spices and preservatives.
The Ugly One made a consummate curry and we settle down to watch Dynasty in which Joan Collins returned as the wonderful Alexis in a hat large enough to have carried the rest of her wardrobe back from Madagascar, or wherever she has been staying.
She arrived just in time to testify against Blake and confirm his violent urges, as when he attacked Alexis’ lover when he caught them in bed together.
Alexis claims she is an artist. She brought Stephen a portrait of himself when he was seven; a ghastly multi-coloured thing which lacks only a tear rolling down the boy’s cheek. Stephen gazed at it in horror, desperately trying to hide his shock. Being a gay man he knows what is good art and what isn’t.
‘Oooh!’ I thought, ‘Squid fish sauce!’ and picked up the bottle, only to discover the ingredients to be anchovies and a smattering of additional spices and preservatives.
The Ugly One made a consummate curry and we settle down to watch Dynasty in which Joan Collins returned as the wonderful Alexis in a hat large enough to have carried the rest of her wardrobe back from Madagascar, or wherever she has been staying.
She arrived just in time to testify against Blake and confirm his violent urges, as when he attacked Alexis’ lover when he caught them in bed together.
Alexis claims she is an artist. She brought Stephen a portrait of himself when he was seven; a ghastly multi-coloured thing which lacks only a tear rolling down the boy’s cheek. Stephen gazed at it in horror, desperately trying to hide his shock. Being a gay man he knows what is good art and what isn’t.
Friday, 14 August 2009
Thursday 13 August 2009
I have been given a new appointment by the hospital for them to examine me further. I have been referred to a dermatological specialist in the Chelsea and Westminster hospital who will no doubt ask me all the same questions and demand a tribute of blood and urine.
On a lighter note, the next season of ‘Dynasty’ has arrived and I am glad to say that Joan Collins has at long last appeared as Blake Carrington’s scheming ex-wife Alexis. Hoorah!
On a lighter note, the next season of ‘Dynasty’ has arrived and I am glad to say that Joan Collins has at long last appeared as Blake Carrington’s scheming ex-wife Alexis. Hoorah!
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Raging toothache drove me to the dentist today where he confirmed that I have a hole in my wisdom tooth and an infection. He gave me more antibiotics.
On the way home I was on the platform of Hammersmith tube station when my spectacles fell to pieces for no reason I could see.
I had to stumble home blind where I could not find my spare glasses and have had to make do with my Roy Orbison prescription sunglasses.
I look like a battered husband.
Meanwhile, on ‘Dynasty’, Blake, having previously got drunk and raped Kristal (I’m not sure how she could have allowed it. He was a drunken pensioner. She could have broken his brittle leg bones with a swish of her lacquered locks.) now returns home to discover that Ted has returned to Denver with his curious New York ways, and is upstairs in The Carrington mansion being curious with his son.
Blake rampages upstairs and finds the two in an embrace. ‘Get your curious hands off my curious son!’ he shouts, and a tussle ensues, following which Ted flies backwards and hits his head on the fire fender, which kills him instantly.
The moral of this story of course, is that women and gay men are no match for a feisty senior citizen.
On the way home I was on the platform of Hammersmith tube station when my spectacles fell to pieces for no reason I could see.
I had to stumble home blind where I could not find my spare glasses and have had to make do with my Roy Orbison prescription sunglasses.
I look like a battered husband.
Meanwhile, on ‘Dynasty’, Blake, having previously got drunk and raped Kristal (I’m not sure how she could have allowed it. He was a drunken pensioner. She could have broken his brittle leg bones with a swish of her lacquered locks.) now returns home to discover that Ted has returned to Denver with his curious New York ways, and is upstairs in The Carrington mansion being curious with his son.
Blake rampages upstairs and finds the two in an embrace. ‘Get your curious hands off my curious son!’ he shouts, and a tussle ensues, following which Ted flies backwards and hits his head on the fire fender, which kills him instantly.
The moral of this story of course, is that women and gay men are no match for a feisty senior citizen.
Tuesday 28 July 2009
After many years we are watching ‘Dynasty’ again. It looks so dated now, and Blake Carrington’s butler, Joseph (whom I always assumed to be a butler, but is in fact a Major Domo) has odd luminous blue hair at the sides of his head.
Back in the day, Dynasty was a racy show, featuring a gay character (Steven Carrington). Steven’s father, Blake. isn’t at all happy about this ‘gay’ business, and can only describe as it as Steven’s ‘curious New York ways’ which have no place in Denver, Colorado.
As it happened, Steven could only last four episodes before his heterosexuality broke through and he launched into an affair with his boss’s wife, Claudia. Claudia’s husband, Matthew, had previously had an affair with Blake’s wife Kristal, while Claudia was locked up in a nuthouse mainly, I suspect, because her twenty-seven year old daughter is at school believing she is fourteen while at the same time dressing like a colourblind grandmother.
Back in the day, Dynasty was a racy show, featuring a gay character (Steven Carrington). Steven’s father, Blake. isn’t at all happy about this ‘gay’ business, and can only describe as it as Steven’s ‘curious New York ways’ which have no place in Denver, Colorado.
As it happened, Steven could only last four episodes before his heterosexuality broke through and he launched into an affair with his boss’s wife, Claudia. Claudia’s husband, Matthew, had previously had an affair with Blake’s wife Kristal, while Claudia was locked up in a nuthouse mainly, I suspect, because her twenty-seven year old daughter is at school believing she is fourteen while at the same time dressing like a colourblind grandmother.
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