If Philadelphia cheese spread is so good for you, how come all the people in Philadelphia adverts are dead?
Category: Fish In A Barrel Page 12 of 23
… seriously, I wasn’t overkeen on providing yet more coverage of a topic which is already very much covered elsewhere, and yet another post which just makes a cheap joke about something I’ve spotted, but I felt I had to comment on the latest issue of OK! magazine.
It is, as you can see, a tribute to Jade Goody, with the dates of her life and death given on the cover. This strikes me as rather questionable for two related reasons:
1. As of this writing, Jade Goody is still alive (very ill, granted, but alive), so they could have waited.
2. If they had waited a week, it would have meant that their Jade Goody Official Tribute Issue would not have been issue number 666.
I mean, come on…
Free (well, you have to collect tokens) with the News Of The World last weekend: a pair of hair straighteners, as demonstrated by Nikki Sanderson, ex of Coronation Street, in the picture here.
Well, they’re saying that they’re hair straighteners, but on the basis of the picture, you’ll be getting something more like a stapler.
I can only hope Nikki doesn’t have to be anywhere in any kind of hurry, as with hair that long, and a pair of ‘straighteners’ that small, I think it’ll be a while yet before she’s ready to go out.
The item’s called The Who Sell Out and it’s being re-released in an expanded ‘deluxe edition’ ?
Oh, okay, there’s no irony or paradox there at all.
… is this really a good idea?
It has the feel of a wrong turn to me, in all honesty. I would have thought a one-line display (even built into the headphone cord, as the new controls are) would have been more advisable.
We’ll see if people go for it, I guess, but it’s certainly not a feature I’d want. Perhaps because, to my not-well mind, it all appears rather reminiscent of MC Hawking.
Then again, maybe it’s just an April Fool’s Day gag that was accidentally released three weeks early…
Opening in UK cinemas today, the film Young Victoria, about the life of Queen Victoria.
Interestingly, one of the producers of this film is Sarah Ferguson, along with Martin Scorcese, and the film’s written by Julian Fellowes, who wrote Gosford Park. And as you can see if you click the picture here, there’s quite an impressive cast too.
But I know what you’re thinking: you’re wondering if the fact that the film has the word Young in the title bodes well or ill, in a manner akin to the numbering of Star Trek films. Well, m’loves, you’re in luck – to assist in knowing whether Young Victoria‘s title formulation makes it likely to be what we film buffs call ‘good’ or ‘bad’, I present a selection of other films beginning with this word…
…hmm, looks like about a 33.3% chance of succeeding, on the basis of my very scientific approach.
I left out Young Guns II, because I felt that would have skewed the numbers. Somehow, I think you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.
The accused:
The fashion phrase “double denim disaster”, used to describe someone wearing both jeans and a denim jacket.
The refutation:
Mr S. Stevens of Wales.
Further evidence to be taken into consideration:
Mr E Presley of Memphis (to be confirmed).
Hot – well, all right, more like lukewarm – on the heels of my post about a delightful item you can buy comes this one, with news of another replica. A choice one, and not one that you might have to be slightly bonkers to buy, oh no.
So then, the Friday the 13th Movie 2009 Jason Voorhees Machete Prop Replica. Three feet long, but don’t worry, the edge is dull, so even though people may involuntarily void their bowels when they see it hung proudly over your fireplace, with its bloodstains a-glistening, you can reassure them that they’re not going to get cut by it.
Mind you, they might wonder why you’d spend $189.99 on a replica machete when you could probably buy a real one for less, but that rather leads into the issue of why you might want a machete (unless it’s the chap from Spy Kids and that Grindhouse trailer) in your home anyway… and that’s probably a question best left unanswered, isn’t it?
Presented for your bewilderment, a display table I saw in Waterstones on Piccadilly the other night.
Normally, I mock similarly-designed items, but having a go at these near-identical covers feels a bit like stealing sweets from a baby (though of course that’s far more civilised behaviour than the subject matter of these books).
For those of you who aren’t familiar with these books, which are often racked under ‘Tragic Lives’ or similar in bookshops, they tend to be memoirs of terrible suffering which the authors suffered in their childhood, but which are presented as being ultimately uplifting. Often they’re the tales of horrific levels of abuse (verbal, physical, sexual and psychological), and thus the covers invariably feature an upset-looking child.
If I sound vague about the contents or dismissive about the marketing, that’s because I haven’t read any of them (though I’m told the initial books of this nature by Dave Pelzer are quite readable), and the packaging of them often ends up being unintentionally amusing to my obviously sick mind (the best example being Ma, He Sold Me For A Few Cigarettes – seriously, that’s a real book; click the link and see).
As I understand it, these books are known as ‘Misery-Lit’ or even ‘Bleakbusters’, and they sell very well indeed. They’re not the sort of book that I think Iād care to read, really, and there’s a large part of me that worries about the fine line that one has to tread between concern about an issue such as mistreatment of others, and a slightly unhealthy and voyeuristic interest in the specifics of the mistreatment; see Apt Pupil by Stephen King for an example of an obsession with ‘the gooshy stuff’ taken to an extreme level (he said, loading his argument)
One thing I recently read about these books, though, is that they’re ‘publishing’s dirty little secret’ (the irony of this is, I hope, not lost on the industry); whilst the various publishers wouldn’t make any claim that these were literary classics or necessarily even of great social merit, the books do sell in vast quantities, and of course this helps the publishers keep afloat during these difficult financial times – books such as those pictured effectively help subsidise the other tomes which don’t speed off the shelves so quickly, but whose authors might pick up both acclaim and awards further down the line. It’s the equivalent of a record label having both Seasick Steve and Coldplay on, I guess.
As I say, I’m vaguely uncomfortable about these books, and the picture of child + hand-written title + typed strapline hinting at the horrors within formula of the covers makes me prone to mock them, but I recently read something (embarrassingly, I can’t remember where, but if anyone can point me towards the origin, I’ll gladly link to it) which suggested that within the world of publishing itself, these books aren’t exactly taken too seriously.
A number of people within publishing firms, the story goes, held a competition to make up the most archetypal and yet repellent example of a Misery-lit book title, voting for the winner. There were, I gather, a large number of entries, but the winner was, by a substantial margin, the title No, Grandad, Not On My Face.