If I ever decide to do drag I will call myself Ella Funt.

A few years ago I flew to Miami with my friend Gary (happily married with kids now, one holiday with me will ‘straighten’ anyone out). We rented a big Harley Davidson Fat Boy for two weeks and drove around South Beach trying to look cool. We decided to drive up to Orlando for a few days to do the theme parks. So there we were, in the queue for Big Thunder Railroad at the Magic Kingdom when Gary tells me he just saw someone in the crowd who looked like my Mum. Before I could locate this looky-likey I heard a very familiar “ yooooo hoooooo!”. It was her. My Mother. With my Dad.
A few days after Gary and I had left the UK my Mum and Dad had packed their suitcases and gone to the travel agent and asked for a last minute deal to "anywhere hot and sunny" leaving that day from Newcastle airport. They ended up with a £99 fly-drive to Orlando. They had never been to the States before so had no idea about the size of the place so it was bizarre to hear my Mum say “we knew we’d bump into you somewhere in Florida”. She meant it too, as if we were in Brighton or Blackpool.
We spent the next few days with them and had a real good time. I won’t mention the time my Mum wet herself in Red Lobster because Gary made her laugh so much with Jokes about Saltines. Oh, I just did.

I got talking to a couple of backpackers while travelling from Panjim to Bombay on the hydrofoil a few years ago. They told me a horrific tale. They were using local buses to criss-cross southern India (you know the type, living on £1 a day then going back home to the £8000 a term private school) and were on a night journey through Kerala. They were dozing at the back of the bus while the driver was dozing at the front when suddenly the bus hits something and comes to a stop at the side of the road. As they looked through the window into the darkness they could make out figures running towards the bus from a village in the distance. Other passengers got off the bus to see what was going on. There was lots of shouting and screaming by now and a ripple of panic passed through those still on the bus. The screaming got louder and then turned into cheering. The two backpackers grabbed their bags and got off the bus. Other traffic had stopped by now and the roadside was filled with light from trucks and cars. There was a large crowd gathered at the front of the bus but the two travellers couldn't see what the crowd were watching. Other travellers from the bus asked the two backpackers if they wanted to continue their journey on a bus that had stopped to witness the commotion. They did and it wasn't until they were seated on that second packed Indian bus that they learned the horrible truth. The driver of the original bus was drunk and he had smashed into a young man from the village who was walking along the side of the road killing him. The villagers who came rushing to the scene saw that the driver was drunk and in their grief and anger beat him to death with rocks and sticks in the headlights of his own bus. True story.

Here is the photographic evidence...
7 miles round the heart of London on Sunday in hot and humid conditions for charity. Me Darren, Rob and Martin raised £1000 for Crusaid and, once again, many thanks to everyone who sponsored us. We did the walk in drag, butch drag. We queued for over an hour at the Royal Festival Hall to register (that's me in the middle), then Laura and Gary from Eastenders fired the starting pistol, we crossed the new Hungerford bridge then made our way along Embankment to St Pauls Cathedral then over the Millenium footbridge to the Tate Modern, past City Hall and onto Tower Bridge then past the new Swiss Re building and into Leadenhall Market (the inspiration for Diagonal Alley in those films), then on to Bank, past Guildhall and into the after-walk-party at the HAC grounds near Liverpool Street (where we only stayed for 10 minutes as there were queues for food, queues for a drink, queues for a piss and by then we'd been on our feet quite enough. We actually had to queue to use the exit!). Good deed for the year done. More pics:
*Martin, Rob and Darren on Tower Bridge
*Martin, Rob and Dave on Tower Bridge
*Two domes
*In the words of Minty "Sunglasses on head, ooooh that's nice!"
*Gridlock on Ludgate Circus
*This one again cos I really like it

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Check out Friday June 20 over at Kill Your Boyfriend. Makes my parents 3 day sulk look a bit underwhelming. Marc, I really think you should be working on a screenplay of your life so far.

Catching up...
Recently I have watched 'London' and 'Robinson In Space', two movies by Patrick Keiller. 'London' is unlike any other film I've seen. There are no actors, nothing much in the way of plot, and the only voice heard is that of the narrator Paul Scofield. The film is a philosophical exploration of the nature of life in this city, and of why London fails its citizens. Visually, it is more like walking through an art gallery than a conventional film; most scenes are single shots held for several minutes each. I fell asleep in the middle but rewound the video when I woke up and watched the remainder. I liked it.

'Robinson In Space' was architect and film-maker Patrick Keiller's second feature and is once again a semi-documentary odyssey concerning the un-named narrator and his friend Robinson. The pair have been commissioned to undertake a series of journeys to investigate 'the problem of England' starting in Reading and ending in Newcastle. The tone and style is a continuation of Keiller's previous film 'London' (with echoes of Daniel Defoe and Nicholas Pevsner). Like the first film the content is never less than totally absorbing and with a very dry, sharp sense of wit and a similar general absence of human activity and camera movement. As a film it is almost hypnotic, its detatched and at times desolate imagery lingering on the screen like unturned pages. I fell asleep in the middle but rewound the video when I woke up and watched the remainder. I liked it.

Can't stop playing 'Statues' by Moloko. I love it. I'd tell you my favorite song, but I honestly can't choose. Oh that voice! Those strings! The disco-ness of it all!
*drifts off dreamin'....Roisin and me dancing to '100%' at Studio 54 in '78 while Andy takes polaroids*

Fast catching 'Statues' up is 'So Much For The City' by The Thrills. Think The Byrds, Mercury Rev, The Beach Boys, think of big open spaces in Wyoming, hairy assed cowboys, grits and pancakes, romantic drives on never ending Texas roads, sex in the back of a pick-up, good-will shopping, Budweiser for breakfast and a thousand other redneck/Grandaddy/Lambchop cliches.
But the best bit is The Thrills are from Dublin.

Went for a long walk yesterday. More about that once my stumps have healed.

I need some comfy slippers after that loooooooooooooooooooong walk. Ouch!

Many thanks to everyone who sponsored me for this weekends Walk For Life. There will be pics to prove I did it. Darren and Rob will be joining me as my support team. Must dash now, need to soak my feet in vinegar to toughen them up.
Must also remember to buy rotten tomatoes as Jemini and One True Voice will be performing at the after walk party.

After reading this article (and agreeing with it) I thought I would table a motion that we raise the age of consent among gay men to 35. Surely everyone knows that gay men don't become attractive until they hit their mid 30's and that 16 year old screaming, squealing poofs are giving us 'real men' a bad name. Of course, I realise that this won't stop the youngsters having sex but it should cut down on that exuberance and confidence that lowering the age of consent gave them. They will be forced back underground, they will become less flamboyant, less 'in your face' (haha) and Jeremy Joseph will be forced into bankruptcy. I shall set about creating a petition right now.

Lying in bed this morning with a coffee watching GMTV when suddenly this bunch of cnuts start singing about McDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut. When they finished I was left feeling very depressed. Was this because they had finished and I wanted more or was it because of what I'd just witnessed?

Ahem!
So far I have raised £0.00 in sponsorship for my 10km hike round London this weekend. Not bad! You've all been so awfully generous. Well done!

COME ON YOU SCABBY BASTARDS, GIZ A QUID IN RETURN FOR HOOFING THE STREETS! *wanders off shaking head and worrying about the world we live in*

If you change your mind you can help here.

I'm doing the Walk For Life soon. Please sponsor me. Any amount will be gratefully received. Go here to donate please. Thanks.

"She's the punk rock Rupaul..."
I was over the moon to discover that Vaginal Davis now has a blog (and this entry about Larry Wachowski is very interesting). Hurrah! If you're a fan of the seedy underbelly of US culture then this will mean something to you. Bruce La Bruce has chronicled his friendship with Vaginal over the years in his diaries and now you can experience her mucky mind for yourself. (Interesting fact: Vaginal was in a band called Black Fag (after Black Flag, Henry Rollins' brilliant punk rock group) with Becks mum).

"I told Billy Ray in his red Chevrolet, I needed time for some thinking...."

I found this great page dedicated to that bit of a song. That bit is the bit that you just can't wait for the song to reach. Like the key changes in McAlmont and Butler songs or the drum bit in the middle of 'In The Air Tonight' (the best 6 seconds Phil ever put onto vinyl). Or the "hup two three four's" in 'The Call Up' by the Clash or the violins in the middle of 'Still Life' by Suede.
What's your favourite that bit?

I've been to Blackpool. That's where I've been. Unusually warm weather with no rain. Weird.
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We saw X-Men 2 today. Is that what it's called? Is it X2-Men? or just X2? It was bloody good fun anyway. Dishy or what? Loved the bit where Magneto escapes from his plastic prison. And what about his guard! (you were right about him!)

Tonight on The Bill the cops raided a rent-boy brothel. The boys and their punters were sitting round listening to Joy Division when the bobbies burst in! How funny is that! Could it have been a master-stroke by the producers as they knew that the Joy Division were a bunch of prostitutes kept at the concentration camps to 'satisfy' the Nazi officers? Or was it just a fluke and they used that particular track as it sounded a bit grim and depressing and they wanted to make the situation as noir as possible? Who can tell with dumb ITV.

While we're on the subject of dumbed down telly (which I love) wasn't Coronation Street brilliant tonight! Deirdre and Tracy fighting and then falling into the swimming pool! Genius! Tracy had stolen her Granny's boyfriend as she thought he was a millionaire. Of course, he wasn't and she ended up looking like a right gold-digging cnut. Priceless!

AND! AND! I've just found out that Amanda Barrie ('Alma' in Coronation Street for years and Carry On films before that) came out today in the Daily Mirror! She's a lezzy! Respect!

I've only just finished sowing up my sides.

I've turned into Thora Hird

I blacked out and fell flat on my face on Saturday morning. I was taking Edward for a walk and had just left our house. I came over all dizzy and fell forward landing on my face and right shoulder. Somehow my left shoulder was dislocated but I was able to 'pop' it back in. The neighbours and Darren heard me yelling and came to my rescue. I was embarrassed. I bust my lip, bruised my cheekbone, took loads of skin off my arms, got grit under the skin of my hands, twisted my ankle and feel like my right arm is broken (though I know it's not).

And now I have a horrendous head cold.