Well, last night saw the UK Big Brother contestants locked away in what Charlie Brooker has called the modern version of the stocks, a house where all their idiotic traits can be displayed to the world in humiliating detail over the whole length of the summer.

I didn't bother with the first bit, so I don't know whether the apology forced on the producers by the Broadcasting Standards organisation was made by Davina in a sarcastic tone of voice with one eyebrow arched or sincerely to Pakis everywhere. What I do know is that this must be the first series where the contestants were at risk of being lynched on the way in, particularly the black girl who, in a triumph for the new caring, sharing BB, got so many boos I thought she'd stolen all the crowds' Caucasian boyfriends.

Anyway, the entrants this time included twins, identical sisters who only possess one soul between them (and possibly less) and who sadly haven't evolved from the single cell beings they were when the egg first split in two. Expect the first BB suicide if one gets evicted without the other.

Then there was Charley, the instantly loathed ex-lap dancer who is afraid of 'skinny people' and an early candidate for the most likely to stick her nails in another housemate's face, not to mention Tracey, the hippie raver who resembles Tyres from Spaced after a botched sex change operation, and has taken so much Ecstasy in the past twenty years she can only recall two phrases of language ("Get in!" and "'ave it!").

Watch out for Lesley too, a sixty year old friend to the Royals who "doesn't like music" ('don't like music'? Are you Satan?)and is likely to spend a few days looking down her nose at everyone else in the playgroup before asking the producers if she can leave. There's also Emily, an insufferable upper class Pete Doherty groupie who's apparently in there to give indie chicks a bad name and needs to be shot, one mardy Irish-Indian, a noisy Welsh bird, someone who wants to be Victoria Beckham and finally Carole, a one-woman Greenham Common protest who could snap any of the others like a twig. And I hope she

does.

Now that would make for good TV.

Al.

While the latest column in the neverending Pandora's Box of ridiculousness that is the 'E-Suitors' project can be found HERE, it's time now, in true 'It'll Be Alright On The Night' fashion, to go through those magic moments we didn't have time for, introductory messages that were too odd, adult, or random even for Home Defence.

With that in mind, below are a few of those that didn't fit for whatever reason. For the purposes of this blog, I'll be Denis Norden, you'll be disturbed.

His message wasn't particularly memorable, but I'd like to start with Alex, a 40 year old gentleman from London who, on his profile under 'Occupation' put: I Run An Orphanage.

If that doesn't get the chicks, nothing will.

Next up the man whose opening gambit to an unsuspecting girl consisted of:

if a guy you were dating told you he got turned on by women farting how would you react?

To which, I wish she'd responded with: "By letting one go right in your face during dinner when I come to meet your parents, you big eligible hunk you."

Or how about this, which displays the typical e-suitor mastery of the English language and features my favourite spelling of the word 'gorgeous' in a while:

hey what u sayin sexy jus gotta tell u uur gorjus where u from and r u single ?? if u like what u see ad me on msn or gimme a lil reply x x x

It makes anonymous frottage in a provincial club seem like a thoroughly civilized mating ritual by comparison doesn't it?

Next up, a message I got from some guy who lives in Guildford. It's actually more ingratiating than e-suitory, but check out the unproven boast in the first sentence:

Hello there im david and im a right laff, I was looking on myspace and found your profile. I think you're great and you like great music, and I thought you might like my band. Please check us out and let me know what u think? p.s ur great mate

Look up the word 'sycophant' in the dictionary and there's David, sucking up to unsuspecting music lovers online. But I shouldn't be too harsh, I've been to Guildford before, and there's a reason why it's the number one British spot for nightclub assaults by drunken girl-band members.

The following one came via a female acquaintance from a nineteen year old Turkish guy called 'nikpac'. They have a whole different approach to emoticons over there y'know.

H i:) (:Y a

hi! how are you? how is the going life? hey can you say me your messenger address plzzz I am waiting you pls do you answer me ? take care off your self bye kissseesss

note: I only want to make friends pls ::::::::::::::: I am not able to believe in my eyes :) (Are they faulty in some way?) pls :PPPP

becasue:) you are sweet :)

B:) y (: E

I mean, what?

Or how about this, from an unidentified e-suitress who doesn't do herself any favours with first impressions – within seven words we realise she can't really do English and has no idea what's going on:

I don't know what is your name? Do you mind if you able to give ur name otherwise i don't know how to called you? Anyway thank you (For what? Existing? Hey, no problem!) and very appreciate its very much and if sometimes you free online, o u are what i am looking for , contact me at galfunloving on msn messenger …. To be frankly you arehot? (Looks aren't everything you know.) Nice to meet you here. Take Care and keep in touch. (Yes, wouldn't want to lose touch with you.) Bye

Well, I don't know about you but I'm intrigued.

But it's not just the younger generation sending insane messages on My Space. 'Jim' is 76, lives in L.A. and despatched the following missive to a girl (identity concealed) young enough to be his granddaughter:

Hi **** interesting picture! Do you like to read? What kind of things? Do you do any writing too? I do I have a book out with two Oscar winners on the cover. Best Jim

And yet Jim's profile fails to make any mention of said tome. Perhaps it's some kind of scrapbook, onto which he's glued pictures of Halle Berry and Jack Nicholson clipped from the pages of Vanity Fair.

Jim didn't get a response to his email but luckily hope springs eternal. Still, I fail to understand how girls can resist the charms of all these men, particularly 'Daine' a 19 year old UK male:

Hi Baby

werein london u live

Yep, that's the extent of it. And be specific when replying, Daine wants postcodes, flat numbers, times you'll be home, that sort of thing. As you can tell from his brevity, Daine doesn't have a lot of time on his hands, but I'm sure he can spare a couple of hours to pop round your house and check for unexpected entry points.

Finally, words pretty much fail me with this last one, so read on and see for yourselves, but before you do be warned – things get a little 'blue'. Oh, and to preserve anonymity I've altered the name of the sender (a wannabe music industry playa from South London) to 'Wilf' and the luckless lady recipient is now known as 'Margarita':

Hi my name is Wilf, I'm an up and coming rapper from Tottenham, in North London. I'm currently studying music technology, due to my obsession with music. Margarita your beauty is extremely captivating, and you remind me of a flawless diamond located in South Africa. Margarita I want you to be in my hip hop video, for channel u on 360 on sky digital. This is not a prank. Margarita what do you think of my photos on myspace? I want your honest opinion. How do I get to Soho? How much is it for sex? How much is it for a blow job? How much is it for a tug job? Can I possess your mobile number? Do you like black men who resemble me? Can I take you out to lunch and then the cinema? Text me back on myspace so I can read your exquisite words and I want you to be honest. Wilf your new friend and admirer xxxx

P.S.
May God bless you in whatever you do.

There's something almost poetic in the arbitrariness of that message, the way it moves from polite introductions and career advice, through the sex industry and carnal propositioning, on to requests for phone numbers and a traditional date, ending with compliments and religious imagery. In many ways this is the e-suitor equivalent of a Ken Russell film, but that doesn't mean I condone it.

For the more sheltered among you, a 'tug job' is a form of sexual windsurfing where the male is propelled across an expanse of water by a rope or cord tied to his member, the other end of which is attached to some form of sailing vessel such as a dinghy or rowboat. 

But no, Wilf's invitation isn't a prank. It's merely an unsubtle attempt to get into someone's pants. May God bless this man and his ongoing attempts to pay for sex in Central London. Jesus would be proud. I look forward to seeing Wilf up on-stage at this year's MOBO awards, and wish him the best of luck functioning in human society from now on.

Keep forwarding me the messages people, it's not like these individuals are ever going to stop.

Al.

(www.homedefenceuk.com)

Well, it seems that leggings are officially the "UK Spring staple" for fashionable girlies, but those of us based in England's major population centres will have noticed this worrying trend gathering pace over the past few months, ever since the likes of Kate Moss and Sienna Miller (now officially recognised as one of the world's stupidest women) ventured into the Paparazzi's harsh glare with legs clad in black lycra during 2006.

At the risk of pointing out the obvious (i.e. those who base their lives around the clothing fixations of the vaguely famous are a bunch of easily led, irrational sheep) or alienating every female MySpacer under the age of 25, let me state a rather obvious fact which really ought to be self-evident: Leggings never look good. I don't care if you're Jodi Albert, Rose MacGowan or the winner of last year's FHM 'High Street Honeyz' competition. Put on a pair of leggings and, in my mind, you're instantly bracketed with the misshapen single mothers who used to stand at my school gates back in the nineties, tapping ash into their pushchairs and yelling at the white trash kiddies while horribly stretched black polyester 'down below' was put under far more stress than the manufacturers ever envisaged.

Going out this weekend on the pull? Got your best pair of leggings fresh and ready for that very purpose? Think again! Anything is more likely to get you some carnal action than leggings. A skirt, jeans, a flowery muumuu, the kind of soiled smock worn by extreme religious cults… anything. This movement is an even more ridiculous tendency than the recent fad for so-called 'Executive Shorts' in metropolitan areas, a style trend that makes go-getting female executives resemble schoolgirls who've misunderstood their Comprehensive's dress code.

But it's not just the black leggings. Living near Camden as I do,  I've been exposed to gold, yellow, leopardskin and even purple leggings, none of which were at all enticing or flattering. In fact, I couldn't give them a second glance without suffering extreme existential disturbance and having to run into one of the many shops selling 'Nobody Knows I'm A Lesbian' t-shirts, wherein I panicked and ended up buying a novelty ashtray depicting a hydrocephalic Rasta smoking an enormous joint.

I've heard it said that this is all part of a greater movement - the eighties fashion revival. But if your look this summer is going to be partially inspired by Jennifer Beals and the collected works of Bananarama, why not go the whole hog? Combine your new-found love for leggings with fluorescent socks and deely boppers? Why? Because that would be stupid. And you'd look retarded. Am I getting through to anyone?

That said, I've just found the following on Wikipedia:

"At the Marni Men's show during the Fall 2007 Fashion Week outfits with leggings designed solely for men were introduced." 

Hmmm… maybe I should actually give them a try? Are they comfortable?

Ladies?

Al.

More fashion mishaps here.

So Jaroslaw Kaczynski, the rabidly right wing Prime Minister of Poland, has responded to EU officials' complaints that his government is inherently anti-gay by stating that the reason homosexuality isn't shown to be an accepted, alternative lifestyle choice in the nation's schools is down to it not being "in the interests of any society to increase the number of homosexuals, that's obvious."

Quite apart from the deplorable stance on gay rights shown by the Polish P.M., an overall approach that bans parades, sacks any teacher who won't condemn or ignore the existence of this lifestyle choice, and leads to a concomitant rise in prejudice and gay bashing, let's look into the logic of that statement for a moment.

Mr. Kaczynski believes that, were cohabiting same-sex partners portrayed in a similar light to the traditional family unit, schoolchildren across the land would think "I'll have a piece of that!" and turn gay. Were he not to take action to suppress the idea that homosexuality may not be entirely evil (in that ridiculous Roman Catholic manner), within a few generations Poland could achieve 80 or 90% gayness, with the knock-on effect that procreation would only happen artificially, because everyone had 'gone homo'. Eventually the birth rate would then dwindle to nothing, and the Poles would become a race solely comprised of aging queers, unable to do manual labour or heavy lifting. Soon industry and society would break down, and the few remaining inhabitants of Eastern Europe would find themselves ruefully looking back, wishing they hadn't decided to be bent, because now the only children left in the country are entirely unfamiliar with the prospect of living the straight life.

Yes, that's right folks, there are still a huge number of people out there who believe homosexuality isn't a natural (if minority) instinct or a lifelong proclivity, but a choice. Just as a fortysomething guy might suddenly give up the city-based rat race and go to live in Cheshire, so one day a previously heterosexual bloke might take a glance at Rufus Wainwright, the possibilities of KY Jelly and the vibe around Hampstead Heath after dark and think: "I'll have a piece of that!"

Idiots. Idiots everywhere. In America recently, a land which is traditionally home to electro-convulsive therapy meant to "cure" gays, it became apparent that one of the big issues at election time is "civil partnerships". Heterosexuals in some states still care more about whether gays are allowed to get married than proper healthcare, jobs, their sons getting blown up in pointless wars or the economy. Because allowing backdoor types into the church or registry office would, apparently, only encourage gay people to practice gayness.

But like Doug Stanhope says, if you're going to embrace the ridiculous institution of marriage by signing a legal contract maintaining you'll always be in love with someone, we've already wandered well into the realms of weirdness. Who care if the ceremony then features a man and a woman, two men, two women, or Bryan Ferry and a Shetland pony? Homosexuals have been able to get married in the U.K. for a while now and it's had no effect on anything, except for Elton John's return to the tabloids and an increase in the sales of pink confetti.

But this septic isle can't be complacent about our attitudes. As today's resignation of BP chairman Lord Browne shows the media, and specifically the Mail on Sunday, is full of sanctimonious bigots who believe that consensual bumming is somehow immoral. The paper in question wanted to name and shame Mr. Browne, because he's gay. That's right, 'shame'. Because any type of sex that doesn't lead to procreation is just disgusting isn't it? I'm not saying I'm a fan of the BP guy, you don't get to be head of something like that without knowing where the bodies are buried, but he wasn't cheating on a wife, upsetting their children or behaving illegally in his private life at all. Rather than stepping down because of actions that actually harmed somebody, Mr. Browne resigned because he was too embarrassed to say he'd met his male partner of 4 years online, claming they bumped into each other while out jogging.

And why was he too embarrassed? Because of lingering taboos around homosexual interaction and internet dating. So the natural, practiced response, when asked in court how they got together, was to avoid mention of 'seedy' escort websites and 'dingy' online chatrooms, and evoke the healthy, physical lifestyle of the modern, outdoor gay. This white lie, this triviality, this moment of thoughtlessness, has now cost him fifteen million pounds. Financial punishment for his dirty predilections. Still, I'm sure this is small beer compared to the eternity our moral guardians expect him to burn for in hell.

Sometimes I wonder if we aren't evolving as a race but regressing. Give it five years and they'll be burning witches again. Mark my words.

Well, the contemporary phenomenon known as Scooch has risen from the ashes, and will be representing those of us who care about the direction of contemporary popular music at the 2007 Eurovision Song Contest, to be held in the lead singer out of Lordi's Finnish dungeon on Saturday May 12^th (and how peeved must GWAR be that some watered-down impersonators have made such an impact by stealing their schtick? I'd have liked to see GWAR on Eurovision, vomiting fake blood on the assembled dignitaries…)

Personally, I think 'Flying The Flag (For You)' is the greatest Eurovision entry ever (to feature semaphore). But it remains to be seen if the voting nations will continue last year's policy of giving the UK 'nil poix' due to distaste at Tony Blair's support for Dubya's Middle East adventures (wooh! Political statement at Eurovision! Effective…) or whether Europe will put such misguided regime changes behind them, and just not vote for us because they think our song's dreadful.

I find it interesting that worldwide political debate is at such a level anti-warmongering countries have to use the forum of the Eurovision Song Contest to protest the situation in Iraq, when the only noticeable effect of their approach is a few kitsch-lovers in Kettering getting grumpy and an immediate cessation of Daz Sampson's career. Daz, you might remember, was 2006's big UK hope, a thirtysomething who surrounded himself with schoolgirls and responded to ignominious failure by becoming addicted to methadone and living in a tree.

And after last Saturday's live phone vote there's got to be a chance that second-placed 'Cyndi' will join him soon in rehab. You could almost see her little heart break as it was confirmed that an extravagantly tired and emotional 'Old Tel' had got confused, bless him, and mistakenly announced Cyndi as the winner. There was no comforting her after that, despite Fearne Cotton's kindly dismissive words, but it's better she learns now that showbusiness is a harsh mistress, before she gets in too deep and winds up having to turn tricks for John Leslie just to make ends meet.

That said, surely Saturday night's major league cock-up is more evidence it's time the increasingly bemused and drunken Terry Wogan was pensioned off (he'll be seventy next year you know). Tel might be an institution, renowned for his relaxing blarney and gentle mockery of other humans, but the BBC needs to deal with the fact that he won't be around forever. Plus I'm tired of my licence fee paying for him to be turned orange every so often. My ideal replacements would be a 'dream team' of Adam & Joe and Lauren Laverne, youngsters who have exactly the right combination of wit and fondness for the subject. Who would My Space like to see succeed Tel in hosting Eurovision?

Al.

Classic Eurovision craziness HERE.

So Prince Charles' plan to get his youngest son off the booze and the drugs has backfired somewhat. I wonder when the penny dropped that, in a time of war, those working for the armed services might actually have to participate, however blue their blood? Anyway, there's a proud tradition of our royals taking part in a not-very-precarious capacity in pointless conflicts (Prince Andrew flying a helicopter over the Falklands, the Duchess of Kent dropping napalm on Vietnam etc) so us Brits are all very happy about it. I'm sure Harold will reverse the recent bloodshed and devastation, securing us a glorious victory, and meaning history ultimately views Bush and Blair in a favourable light.

Or, he might get his little ginger head blown off by a sniper, which would amuse me no end (and give the Royals a taste of what the 124 families of 'our boys' who've so far sacrificed their lives in this spurious war have suffered). There'd be something ironic about a kid who flirts with the imagery of Nazis losing his life to Islamic fundamentalists, and his violent death (possibly a televised beheading?) would instantly relieve the burden he places on UK taxpayers, so it's a win-win situation for us all.

But come to think of it, ginger's passing might trigger the same national outpouring of misplaced grief which followed his dim mother getting into a vehicle driven by a pissed Frenchman, and being unable to do up her seatbelt without a butler on hand. Due to an accident of birth this 22 year old has always been in the news, which has both good and bad sides, but he's never truly felt the fear of existing without the safety net of birthright until now. Were he to prove the victim of one of those suicide bombers who are no doubt queuing up to welcome the Prince to the Middle East, us serfs and peasants would be expected to line the streets of London, weeping mendaciously and trying to gain catharsis by concocting some vicarious emotion for a little peckerwood we've never met.

I can't handle that. Besides, no harm's going to come to him. Much as I enjoy envisaging his commanding officer making him go first on reconnaissance missions and forcing him to chat to those suspicious looking Shias hanging out by the side of the road, according to some reports he's going to be accompanied by a bevy of SAS men at all times. That'll be inconspicuous won't it? Really foster good feeling amongst the rest of the Cavalry Regiment who have to go out unprotected with the country's number one insurgent target. Every time there's a loud noise, unknown figure approaching, or sudden sandstorm, these Andy McNabs are going to jump on Harry and protect every inch of his freckled skin. Meanwhile the 12 guys he's commanding (and since when did a kid with no combat experience get put in charge of four armoured cars? He'll be playing demolition derby within a week..) watch the safeguards put in place to protect him with disgust. Because his life is worth so much more than theirs.

Apparently Prince Harry was "thrilled" and "over the moon" when told he was going to be sent to the danger zones of Southern Iraq to risk his life in a meaningless conflict. Reassuring to have confirmed, once and for all, that the third in line to the throne is effectively a village idiot.  His title while over there is going to be 'Cornet Wales', but back home I'll be thinking of him as 'The Bell-end Prince'.

Al.

More Harry hijinks here:

http://www.homedefenceuk.com/international_Princeharry.html

On Sunday March the 18^th environmentalist, father of six (estimated), and world renowned bigamist Steven Seagal brings his band and rolling 'Thunderpants' revue to London's legendary Shepherd's Bush Empire. The 56 year old star of such cinematic classics as 'Fire Down Below', 'Half Past Dead' and 'Prince of Pistols' will be testifying through rampant blues licks, unintelligible vocals, and an ability to sort of stand there immobile for two hours without altering his facial expression...

(What is it with the oak-like, woodenness of this man anyway? Most celebrities just have botox on their face, he looks like he's botox-ed his whole body. This must be the first man I've seen who appears to have been cryogenically frozen while he's still alive.)

Performing vibrant cuts from his recent album 'Mojo Priest' (see below) the multi-talented polymath will be playing to a sold out house of gormless idiots who usually spend their Sunday nights drinking strong lager and enjoying his movies 'ironically' on Channel 5. So get in early, tickets are thirty fucking quid (plus booking fee). But they're likely to be worth every penny for any knowing kitsch-heads with more money than sense who want to see a 56 year old black belt in Aikido and former Burger King employee play self-penned opuses such as 'Alligator Ass', 'Talk To The Ass' and 'She Dat Pretty'.

(Doesn't going to watch a film star - however washed up - playing music, put you in the same category as those pre-pubescent girls who buy a boyband album because they fancy one of the singers? Or men who get Wayne Rooney's autobiography because they like watching his goals? Or purchase Jordan's novel because they admire her plastic surgeon?)

So don't miss this once in a month chance to see, in the flesh, a bloke who's built his career on playing invincible martial arts hard men and earned a reputation for unexpectedly kicking stuntmen in the nuts "just to see if they're wearing cups"! However, if you do miss him, there's always the chance to see him again in Croydon or Southend, because the latter is somewhere he's "always dreamed of playing".

It's going to be the biggest thing to hit these shores since Chuck Norris' bluegrass players stormed the Cambridge Folk Festival back in 2003.

Al.

http://arts.guardian.co.uk/filmandmusic/story/0,,2003510,00.html

Controversy equals ratings, and as twice as many people tune into Celebrity Big Brother than this time last week, Endemol and Channel 4 executives must be pleased that their decision to include a Bollywood star and a bunch of female white trash in the BB house has started to pay dividends in terms of publicity and the concomitant increase in viewing figures.

Of course, they can't be sure whether the current furore around interpretations of racist epithets will prove a storm in a teacup, or lead to unfortunate consequences beyond the thousands of complaints currently "flooding in" from well-organised and terribly politically correct sources (although, personally, I've always longed to see Dermot O'Leary assassinated on live television, but that's just me). If this show's well off producers and Davina have to spend the rest of their lives surrounded by a police escort, living under a Rushdie-style fatwa in a safe house outside Carshalton, then maybe that's the price of reality TV success. They'll just have to learn to live with it.

What has become abundantly clear over the past few days, even to someone like me who hasn't watched the show in a while, is the elephant in the living room of our supposedly multicultural, tolerant society. Check out the superb movie 'A Way Of Life' for further insights into the fears of the white, British, lower classes. Because people like the Goodies (sadly not Tim Brooke-Taylor et al, but the significantly less funny Jade and her part-monkey mother) and, to a lesser extent, Sheringham's bimbo and Smegette of S Club, have grown up in a setting where many are ignorant of other racial types, and where nationalities from Turkish to Indian to Lebanese are all bracketed under the slur 'Paki'. 

Ignorance of other cultures leads to defectively imagined assumptions from stupid people, which in turn leads to prejudice and the kind of remarks we've been seeing on CBB. Assumptions like all Indians live in slums, the Chinese eat with their hands, and everyone wants to come over to this country and sponge off the state - despite the physical attacks from violent Chavs - whatever the actual reality of the situation.

When Jade eventually gets evicted expect a tarnished Goody image, a reduction in her monetary assets, and possibly a public lynching. None of which she will expect or understand. But the actions of this trio of female 'bullies' can't merely be rationalised away under the label of racism. As any schoolteacher will tell you, girls are nastier and more pitiless when it comes to bullying their peers than boys (who have a tendency just to beat you up or call out a stupid name, then forget about you and move on – I speak from experience here*). And this group tendency remains in too many supposedly sophisticated individuals when they should have grown up. 

As adults in the workplace, some female friends have had lies spread about them, been hated and ostracised by colleagues, and treated to utterly unjustifiable vehemence. Their only crime was to be different from other girls, whether in terms of class or upbringing, attitude or (and this really pisses some of them off) in terms of their popularity with the guys in the office. If the alpha males pay more attention to their favourites, expect the neglected chicks to bite back with every method at their disposal.

This is more childishness than prejudice, yet it's the same kind of immature behaviour that leads secondary school girls to commit suicide because of how they're treated in the playground every day. Shilpa's only crime on Big Brother was to be more successful, pretty, worshipped, and talented than the Caucasian blondes who spend their whole lives striving for an ideal of beauty they can never attain, not with all the designer clothes and botox injections and hairstylists in the world. Because deep down, as recent events have proved, they're fucking ugly.

Al.

*My favourite was 'cabbage', because someone thought my hair looked like a cauliflower, and cabbage was also a vegetable. You have gotta love that logic. I don't have a favourite beating.

By popular demand (ahem) here is a re-post of the My Space community's favourite of the 30 or so blogs I put up during 2006, for all you latecomers, or those who missed the piece before it dropped off my page….

So Katie Price's new book remains at number one on the hardback bestseller charts, outselling its closest rivals by more than two to one. That's twenty thousand people in this country a week who feel the need to read whatever tidied-up drivel she's splurged during the latest conversations with her ghost writer.

I don't blame Katie for everything that surrounds her, I guess the books are a form of therapy in which she's the one making money. But presumably guys aren't buying these tomes. Even if they find her unnatural/orange look alluring, they'd only be interested in the pictures. Which means girls, thousands of them, pouring over the words of wisdom of that media and plastic surgery created vision of unreality that is 'Jordan'.

Is this what large swathes of the feminine gender aspire to these days? A woman who gave birth live on the internet to a disabled baby so that pay-per-viewers can get their rocks off to the full gynaecological horror of parturition? A 'glamour' model who pops into the clinic to be cut open and have her breasts re-sized as often as the rest of us go for dental check ups?

But the fact that society holds Mrs. Andre up as some role model of sexuality is understandable when you take a look at the way American culture has been going for the last few decades. A country that was always obsessed with the body beautiful can now utilize advances in medical technology to pursue that aim, and MTV is full of shows about attractive young airheads and himbos who think that a surgical procedure will take them that bit closer to perfection, stuff like calf implants or botox or collagen or perkier breasts or a different nose. Then, after that, maybe just one more operation, then one more….

And, as with every other aspect of US society, a few years later the UK catches up, and cosmetic surgery has now become big business over here. Money talks, and the industry can promote itself big-time, particularly with the media idealising the unnaturally big-breasted bimbo as something for women to aspire to, and lad mags running competitions to give away breast implants for readers' girlfriends. So more and more clinics open up featuring amoral surgeons who will give confused and insecure girls exactly what they 'need' to improve the way they look.

But you don't actually need anything. Every aspect of your physicality is an exterior representation of who you are inside. Liposuction won't cure your appetite, and a little nip and tuck won't alter the fact that 99% of women in this country are unhappy with their bodies. No amount of surgery will ever change that belief, because it's all in your head. All women are beautiful in some way, but if they don't fall into society-created categories of attractiveness, tragically more and more look to having their body pointlessly brutalised, scarred and screwed with, as some kind of solution.

The saddest example I ever heard, sadder than a working class girl saving up for enormous implants which then do permanent damage to her back, was a girl who used to work with me. She was intelligent, artistic, amazing and perfect as she was, but her mind was set on popping over to South Africa for implants because she was frustrated at rarely being able to get clothes that fitted her shape.

I mean, whaaatt? You're going under the surgeon's knife, enduring a painful recovery period, losing sensation in the area of physicality, just so it's easier to find outfits???? I often don't fit into size 12 shoes and larger ones are much more expensive (and only available from freak-shops like High And Mighty), but I'm not popping into the clinic to ask them to take a half-inch off my toes am I? Yet this is just the kind of warped logic you have to deal with when trying to talk the deluded out of plastic surgery.

I could never go out with someone who'd had cosmetic 'enhancements', and if that's a prejudice then I'm prejudiced. Quite apart from the fact that, as Charlie Brooker observed, it makes operated-on parts resemble something from Gunther Von Haus' Bodyworld exhibition and that, as you age, you end up looking like a surrealist's nightmare (see Sly Stallone's mother, or rather don't), what do these priorities say about you as a person? That you value people noticing your breasts or lips or lack of wrinkles more than your mind or soul? I can put up with all sorts of bodily flaws if a person is sweet and smart and lovely and interesting, I think most people can. So unless it's going to help you make money from a career in the grot pamphlets, why on earth would a girl do it?

In other news, if you haven't perused the latest E-Suitors column on Home Defence it can be found HERE.

Below is an unedited transcript of a recent My Space conversation between myself ('Big Al') and Independent columnist and all-round charming American Cooper Brown ('Cooper'). This one will, no doubt, run and run....

From: Cooper
Date:Dec 20 2006 9:09 PM

How old are you? I've been Internet bitch slapped......
Wow, the height of satire.

How's your book doing? I checked Amazon, doesn't seem to be any sort of mass movement towards it...ah well you're probably just too intelligent for the "mass media."

Do you have a real job? (i.e one that someone pays you to do) or are you just living off state etc? I can have a guess.

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Dec 19 2006 9:18 PM

Thanks for your interest Coop, my favourite deadbeat dad-to-be!

The new blog reveals you as the obsequious arse-licker you truly are. I thought it was a myth that most Americans fall to their knees ready to fellate when confront by the upper denizens of our ridiculous class system, but apparently not.

You must be the ugliest of Mrs Cameron's current band of sycophantic groupies.

Al.

P.S. Your pregnant girlfriend's subconscious abandonment fears are well-founded aren't they?

From: Cooper
Date: Dec 21 2006 12:53 AM

OOOOhhh...get you...a bit riled I see!!remarkable....and wasn't it you that went on about "knee-jerk cliched anti-americanisms" back when you thought I wasn't real? Or do you still think I'm not real? Sorry, it's difficult to follow dumb thinking. Nothing like a bit of good Republicans values to get an old Commie like you foaming at the mouth. I notice you didn't answer my queries as to the book and the job. Maybe you did by not answering?

Cheers Comrade!! Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Dec 20 2006 01:05

Which is exactly why I was so amused by you proving an American stereotype! Heh, heh...

My creative endeavours are all going very well thanks Coop, if I thought you were doing anything other than trying to gain ammunition for your pathological need to get the last word in I'd tell you more.

I'm treating you as if you're real because it amuses me. 'Commie' indeed - can tell you're a child of 50s bigotry!

Hope one of the baldness cures takes,
Al.

P.S. The title of your blog doesn't match its grovelling contents. Not that anyone else besides me reads it, but it's currently making you look a tad foolish (even more so than usual).

From: Cooper
Date: Dec 23 2006 12:14 AM

It's not a blog, it's a copy of my indie column- titles that don't match get idiots to read them.
Howmany people have actually paid money to buy your book?

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Dec 23 2006 01:31

Hey Coop,

Your indie column, yes. And when you post it on here as a blog, it becomes a blog. If you need anything else explaining do get back to me.

People who have paid money to read my book? More than David Blunkett's but less than Peter Kay's at the last count. Which, considering I'm doing it all myself, with no marketing budget, is eminently satisfying.

You seem to be unable to admit when you've made a mistake, but that's fine. I 'get' you Cooper Brown. Good of you to admit that you have to trick people into reading your drivel though. That said, if you'd actually used an accurate title (like: "My Tongue In David Cameron's poo-chute.") it wouldn't make any difference on here.

Enjoy your final xmas without noisy offspring,
Al

P.S. 'Wheat from the CHAFF'. It's a farming term used by yokels.

From: Cooper
Date: Dec 25 2006 2:14 AM

yeah...wheat from the chuff....it was a joke but glad you're reading, Seriously, you're boring me now.....

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 1 2007 04:03

Cheers Coop, snappy comeback.

There's a word for people who aren't willing to admit they don't know everything. And for those who can't let anyone else have the last word.

In your case "self-aggrandizing", "inadequate" or "douchebag" will do.

Happy New Year.

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 2 2007 5:25 AM

wasn't meant to be a snappy comeback you social inedaquate, it was a statement of fact. It was humour: something that, if you possessed it, might allow you to write for something with a readership. Sorry about Castro no looking too good....

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 1 2007 17:44

Just love being lectured about humour by one so chronically unfunny....

Are you sure you have a readership Coop? Any evidence (apart from me)?

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 3 2007 1:57 AM

Just read your version of my Round Robin, hilarious...really top work. Lucky that you're not that busy isn't it? I guess my taxes pay for you to have the time to this kind of stuff. What really comes across is just how obsessed you are with my columns. Your grasp of detail is superb and I'm almost flattered you read me so closely. Just one thing, The class thing?? Being an American how did I get into the old boy network??? You really think the Indie of all papers is that kind of publication or is all "mass media" (i.e media that people actually read) like that? Wish I could claim to have an equal knowledge of your state-funded "writing" but....I don't, sorry.
All good fun though and adds to the readability of my page, unlike yours sadly.
Oh and Lilly Allen contacted me, you're not miffed at being ousted are you?
Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 2 2007 03:24

Cheers Coop, Thought it was about time there was something funny on your blog.

You got the column due to contacts your other half has - something you keep repeating.

Love the way you think I'm unemployed! I have a career at Transport For London, Congestion Charging, so I hope you're paying to drive that penis replacement vehicle of yours around the streets, otherwise we'll tow it away!

No, not miffed at being ousted, just surprised you managed to work out how to do it. Did you get a young person to help you?

Yours, as always,
Al

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 3 2007 4:34 PM

Oh my God, you MUST be making that up? Transport for London??????? Congestion charging???? Oh my God I haven't laughed more in whole life. A career???? What kind of career? Maybe you'll rise to senior Phone person??? No wonder you're such a bitter tiwsted leftie, there's fuck all future for you. Ha HA HA, oh my God my sides hurt. The fact that you try and write unread books proves that you'd love to leave if you could but you CAN'T. HA Ha HA. Everything explained now. I thought it was a myth that bitter losers work in these sort of places. I might buy a 4x4 just because I could afford to pay the charge every day. Oh my God you've made my year. Bet you think Ken Livingstone is cool? GOD you're a loser

Ha ha

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 2 2007 17:50

Yep, you do that Coop - London's economy can always use the cash profligate idiots have to throw away.

Gotta go, you're boring ME now....

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 3 2007 9:26 PM

Haha got to you huh!! I knew that would rile you. Don't worry someone's got to do these jobs until they replace you with idiot robots. I'm still laughing, it really hurts. Good luck in your...hahahah..."career"
By the way using "big" words doesn't make you intelligent, it makes you a chippy pseudo.

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 2 2007 21:45

No Coop, if I wasn't at ease with every aspect of my life I wouldn't have shared it with you :-)

But it must be strange for you to meet, even virtually, someone who is both creative AND productive. As I relax here at my desk, I tend to wonder why someone without an artistic bone in his body gravitated toward the film industry.

Care to enlighten me?

Hugs,
Al

P.S. Glad you're enjoying the words - like to think you're learning something....

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 3 2007 11:29 PM

God it just gets better and better, "productive and creative"????????? Let's do a "you" and go through those points shall we?

Creative......uuuhhhmm, writes the occasional blog that nobody reads, one step up from talking to yourself, wow, crazeeeee creative, somebody call the BBC.
You wrote a book that you had to publish yourself as no-one else was interested. Isn't that known as vanity publishing? How many crates of the thing have you got sitting in your squat?

Productive....uuuuhhh works for Transport for London collecting fines off people driving around a city...uuuhhmmm...really necessary and crazeeee productive. How come the traffic is still shit and everybody hates Ken Livingstone?
I can cruise around Paris no problem without having to pay any charge as well as get a tube on time and pay an eight of the price (obviously I don't because I'm enormously rich and succesful unlike yourself).
Are you allowed to be on the internet during work hours? Isn't it funded by taxpayers? Isn't that you taking advantage of honest hard working proles?

Just a couple of thoughts, no need for big words...

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 2 2007 23:40

Man, you're really boring me now...

Like the true solipsist you are Coop, you have no insight into anyone else's character, and now YOU'RE the one sounding angry and bitter....

Ignoring my question just makes me believe you do nothing in your job all day even more. I could give you figures of people who read my blog / have bought my novel, but really, what's the point? You're only interested in money, not art.

I couldn't care less about Ken one way or the other, but 'everyone' must really hate him to keep voting him in right? How many elections has your fuckbuddy Dave C won?

You really have a lot of time on your hands, but I can keep this up forever. It amuses me. Particularly the way everyone with a larger vocabulary than you is a "chippy pseud" ;-)

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 3 2007 11:50 PM

you didn't answer my question about wasting tax payer's money??? Presume that's an unfortunate "artistic" slip of the memory bank? You don't have a bigger vocabulary than me, I just don't see the need to go all Will Self when communicating with telephone operators. I've just finshed skiing in Zermatt, (that's in Switzerland) and I'm relaxing in my suite. Tough stuff.

Coop

From: Big Al  

Jan 3 2007 4:01 PM

Thanks for the insight Coop.

My wages are covered by the people who pay the Congestion Charge. People with cars. That's how it works. It also pays for more buses to get in the way of your vehiclethingy.

Good of you to admit you were wrong when you called me a dole-scrounger though :-)

From: Cooper
Date: Jan 4 2007 6:17 PM

not a dole scrounger but a parasite wasting motorist's money on both charges, fines and your "career" which seems to be spent entirely on-line. You didn't answer why the traffic is still shit, and most other major cities don't need a congestion charge?

Coop

From: Big Al
Date: Jan 3 2007 22:27

Yes Coop, I suspect you know a thing or two about parasitical behaviour by now…

Thanks for the bulletin, glad you enjoyed being enlisted to help spread the word (albeit in your typically unfunny way). You seem to be mastering more aspects of this way of communicating you so abhor by the day.

Right then, deep breath (because it's like talking to a child sometimes)…. As anyone who isn't retarded would see within seconds, the reason there is still traffic on the roads is because many vehicles are exempt (buses, taxis etc.), the remaining vehicles you see out will be paying the charge, but the scheme is not in effect in all parts of the city yet (and not evenings and weekends either). However, from next month the zone is expanding to cover your neck of the woods so you might want to apply for a resident's discount. Oh sorry, I forgot. You have an endless supply of money to piss away :-) And because the scheme is so successful, the likes of Stockholm have already adopted it, with many other cities currently setting up trials. Within a decade you'll see it happening all around the world.

Al.

P.S. Is the Ross Kemp worship because you want a column on his wife's paper? The Sun's about the only national paper where your infantile worldview would really fit in. Makes me laugh you write for the same paper as Mark Steel. Now he really IS a lefty…

Jan 5 2007 12:33 PM

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..hhahaha..you actually thought I gave a shit????? hahahahah.......couldn't give a flying fuck........Very happy on the Inde preaching to those who need converting to reality.

Coop