The Dailies Show Preview

At the venerable old age of 78, Oscar should be collecting his pension and going to movies rather than having a film show named after him. But he, as with the rest of us, will be putting on his Sunday best in preparation for the ceremony.

Youth will be represented again in the form of the host. Last year, Chris Rock bombed but perhaps Dave Chappelle would have been the better choice all along? Let’s keep our fingers crossed that Jon Stewart and his six strong team of writers from The Daily Show hit the right notes. A solid start would be the style of humour that a New York Times article achieved this week: it depicted God giving Stewart some seemingly terrible advice (God is actually Billy Crystal wearing a mask). I would imagine that less would be more and if he can walk the line (ahem) between being snarky towards the movies but not the actors then his notices – and subsequent contract negotiations with Comedy Central – will be on the up. The ultimate irony would be if Stewart eventually lands the coveted Late Night slot on CBS currently held by David Letterman – arguably the worst Oscar host in living memory. In short Jon: if Uma and Oprah are in the room, don’t even bother introducing them…

And I shan’t bother to tell you what should win, just what will win. I haven’t seen all the nominated films – who could? - but did go 6 for 6 last year, winning 20 pounds worth of film tokens into the bargain. See you on Sunday for the live blog if the adverts take their toll on us.

BEST ACTOR

Philip Seymour Hoffman: CAPOTE 1/7
Terrence Howard: HUSTLE & FLOW 33/1
Heath Ledger: BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 7/1
Joaquin Phoenix: WALK THE LINE 7/1
David Strathairn: GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK. 25/1



Probably the strongest category, Best Actor actually features three portrayals of celebrities from the 1950s. Before we return to those, the Heath Ledger campaign seems to have run out of gas and in any other year, Howard would have a great chance for his brilliant performance in the underrated ‘Hustle & Flow’. Still, just to be nominated is a big deal and Howard’s time will come. Joaquin Phoenix is excellent as Johnny Cash but was outshone by Reese Witherspoon’s June, which will do for him. David Strathain seems doomed to be the forgotten man this time around, which leaves us with Philip Seymour Hoffman. For a big star, Hoffman is relatively little known; even people who have seen many of his movies can't quite place the name. He has made 38 films, one for every year of his life, some of them too obscure even for the video store but many of them have a level of intensity that stays with you long afterwards: ‘Boogie Nights’, ‘The Big Lebowski’, ‘Happiness’, ‘Magnolia’, ‘State and Main’ and ‘Almost Famous’. Even his walk-ons tended to be scene-stealers. But now something else is happening: leading roles. And he’s never been better than in ‘Capote’. Someone recently noted that he was more adept at being Truman Capote than Capote himself. What’s more, he's apparently said that if he won the Oscar he would bark during his acceptance speech. PSH – get ready to woof.

WILL WIN: PHILIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

George Clooney: SYRIANA 7/4
Matt Dillon: CRASH 9/1
Paul Giamatti: CINDERELLA MAN 5/6
Jake Gyllenhaal: BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 6/1
William Hurt: A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE 25/1



As ever, it’s all about momentum. I believe that the gay cowboys – and their wives – will be going home empty handed whereas the wonderful Paul Giamatti won’t be giving any speeches due to association with telephone thrower Russell Crowe. William Hurt is barely in ‘A History Of Violence’ and despite it being the best English language film of last year, he shouldn’t and won't win the Oscar. As with Ledger, I feel that Dillon’s time has passed: had the awards been last month, the award might have been his. Time for George Clooney to win his first statue then: he’s a darling of the Academy and despite his performance and ‘Syriana’ itself being a messy, confused and over long film with only one decent storyline (Matt Damon and Amanda Peet dealing with the tragic loss of their son), Clooney put on much weight for the role and got badly injured during the filming – two factors which count far more than you can possibly imagine.

WILL WIN: GEORGE CLOONEY

BEST ACTRESS

Judi Dench: MRS. HENDERSON PRESENTS 20/1
Felicity Huffman: TRANSAMERICA 5/2
Keira Knightley: PRIDE & PREJUDICE 33/1
Charlize Theron: NORTH COUNTRY 16/1
Reese Witherspoon: WALK THE LINE 2/7



Yet another average year for female actresses. I’m still staggered that Rachel Weisz’s performance only makes the grade in the supporting category. She’s obviously the white Samuel L Jackson circa ‘Pulp Fiction’. We can safely discount the two Brits who did get the nod (though Judi Dench won Supporting Actress for a 7 minute cameo in ‘Shakespeare In Love’ a few years ago so I guess you never really know) and Charlize Theron was surely nominated to add some glamour to the night as ‘North Country’ was supposedly horrible. That leaves Golden Globe winner and Mrs. William H. Macy, Felicity Huffman, up against the radiant Reese Witherspoon. I’m 99% confident that Witherspoon will be victorious: the academy loves a biopic more than a cross dresser and her June Carter is absolutely sensational.

WILL WIN: REESE WITHERSPOON

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Amy Adams: JUNEBUG 7/1
Catherine Keener: CAPOTE 12/1
Frances McDormand: NORTH COUNTRY 14/1
Rachel Weisz: THE CONSTANT GARDENER 4/9
Michelle Williams: BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 3/1



This should be a rare moment of British triumph on the night along with Wallace & Gromit. I expect Weisz to win for Gardener though am slightly worried that a lack of awards for the film from last week’s Baftas might have a knock on effect. I hear great things about Amy Adams for Junebug; McDormand gets nominated for pretty much everything she appears in and Williams couldn’t get left out for Brokeback. I personally thought Catherine Keener was just as impressive – if not more so - than Weisz but can’t see her Harper Lee winning. And so Weisz it is then. Just.

WILL WIN: RACHEL WEISZ

BEST DIRECTOR

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 1/10
CAPOTE 25/1
CRASH 16/1
GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK. 7/1
MUNICH 14/1



Quite simply, the easiest award of the night to get right. Ang Lee was awarded the Directors Guild of America for ‘Brokeback Mountain’ and in 51 of the past 57 years, the guild has honoured directors who have gone on to win the Oscar. You might fancy Paul Haggis to do the Best Picture/Director double but you just can’t look past Lee (and as we all remember from 2004’s ‘Hulk’, you won’t like him when he’s Ang Lee…). Usual suspect Steven Spielberg hasn’t got a prayer with the rather pedestrian ‘Munich’, George Clooney can’t expect to win twice in a night and ‘Capote’ can only win for, er, Capote.

WILL WIN: ANG LEE

BEST PICTURE

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN 1/5
CAPOTE 20/1
CRASH 9/2
GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK. 12/1
MUNICH 14/1



Surprise surprise, the same five films are nominated for Best Picture. We can discount ‘Capote’, ‘Good Night…’ and ‘Munich’ for similar reasons to above which means we have a good old-fashioned fight on our hands between ‘Crash’ and ‘Brokeback Mountain’. Shocks are often in evidence at the Oscars and you’ll find one here: the buzz in Hollywood has been mounting for ‘Crash’ these past few months and I can see it knocking off the favoured ‘Brokeback Mountain’. It’s the perfect Best Picture winner for the academy as it raised “important” issues, had an ensemble cast and was set entirely in LA. The fact that it wasn’t the best picture of the year matters little and you’ll be able to add ‘Crash’ to the likes of ‘Rocky’, ‘Ordinary People’, ‘Driving Miss Daisy’, ‘Dances With Wolves’ and ‘Chicago’ as an unworthy winner.

WILL WIN: CRASH

http://www.glidemagazine.com/events66.html

Lend Me Your Ears

A quick observation from last night's Cesars, the French version of the Oscars. Isn't it refreshing that in our pop culture world, currently dominated by the nominated (nice) Brokeback Mountain that France doesn't even recognise it? At least, not yet. You see, due to release dates, our French friends are typically perverse in being behind the times. And so Million Dollar Baby won Best Foreign Film and Hugh Grant of all people snagged an honorary Cesar for his body of work. Hugh Grant?!? Even he was shocked, admitting that he doesn't win much. I guess this means that Four Weddings And A Funeral, Notting Hill and, er, Two Weeks Notice must have had more impact than we'd all previously thought. It's a far cry from Sunset Boulevard (not the Billy Wilder version) and Divine Brown...

I'm sure that everyone enjoyed the evening but we shouldn't lose sight of this truly being a French event and that usually means a protest of some sort...and right on cue, a dozen activists lobbying for greater rights for temporary contract workers ran onto the stage, delaying the opening of the ceremony by 20 minutes. If every film awards show around the world had a prize for Best Protest then the French would walk away with it each year before sitting down in anger, opening a bottle of wine, breaking some bread and smoking copious amounts of cigarettes. Tomorrow in cliche corner: those Italians don't like waiting in line, do they?

Rangers On The Rise

QPR complete an unlikely double over Sheffield United. Despite playing at the second best team in the league, we seem to have a great record up at Bramall Lane and so it proved again today. A crazy see-saw of a match saw the Hoops take an early lead only to go in behind 2-1 at half time. Sheffield could have sealed victory but missed a second half penalty before scoring our equalizing goal thanks to Captain Morgan (boom boom). Rugged veteran Paul Furlong crashed home a late winner to seal a famous victory and the first away win of 2006.

All this just 48 hours after the annoucement that next year's kit will be reverting to the early 1980s design. And this could prove to be a good omen as that side won this league to enter the top flight of English football. This might be an instant flush of (misplaced?) optimism as I bask in today's victory but if the off the field problems come to an end and we stay relatively clear of injuries then I think we can realistically expect to be in the promotion hunt come May 2007.


Believe it or not, I'm pretty sure I work with the player you can't make out in this picture!


Lee Cook strikes a pose in next season's kit.

Brokeback Mountain Dew?

I don't know about you but I thought it awfully decent of Ang Lee to make these shopping lists public knowledge...

WEEK ONE
* Beans
* Bacon
* Coffee
* Whisky

WEEK TWO
* Beans
* Ham
* Coffee
* Southern Comfort

WEEK THREE
* Beans en salade
* Pancetta
* Coffee (espresso grind)
* 6 bottles best Sauvignon
* 2 tubes K-Y gel

WEEK FOUR
* Pink Fir Apple potatoes
* Thick whipping cream
* Organic Eggs
* Spanish Lemons
* Gruyere cheese (well aged)
* Crushed Walnuts
* Clarified Butter
* Extra Virgin Olive oil
* Pure Balsamic vinegar
* 6 yards white silk organdie
* 6 yards pale ivory taffeta
* 3 Cases of Dom Perignon Masters Reserve
* Large tin Crisco

Offside Explained

Warning: patronizing post alert.

The below is a fun and easy way for any female readers to understand the - ahem - complexities of the offside law. I can't claim credit for this explanation but it certainly made me smile...

You're in a shoe shop, second in the queue for the till. Behind the shop assistant on the till is a pair of shoes which you have seen and which you must have.

The shopper in front of you has seen them also and is eyeing them with desire.

Both of you have forgotten your purses.

It would be totally rude to push in front of the first woman if you had no money to pay for the shoes.

The shop assistant remains at the till waiting.

Your friend is trying on another pair of shoes at the back of the shop and sees your dilemma.

She prepares to throw her purse to you.

If she does so, you can catch the purse, then walk round the other shopper and buy the shoes.

At a pinch she could throw the purse ahead of the other shopper and, *whilst it is in flight* you could nip around the other shopper, catch the purse and buy the shoes.

Always remembering that until the purse has *actually been thrown* it would be plain wrong to be forward of the other shopper.

Lost...In Translation

From the 'art imitating art' category (which, by the way, has nothing to do with 'Jeopardy' though you can check out a new blog all about said show via my profile), we find this interesting item. Producers of hit ABC show 'Lost' have admitted that eagle eyed viewers who spotted a copy of obscure Irish novel 'The Third Policeman' did so on purpose - indeed, it was chosen "very specifically for a reason". Flann O'Brien's book has seen an unprecedented spike in sales since the sighting: 10,000 copies were sold in two days and in three weeks, more books were bought than over the previous six years! Those rather "intense" (that's the word Matthew Fox used last night on 'The Daily Show', before you write in to complain) fans are pouring over its pages and pouring seems the apt word: if an Irishman is responsible for the crucial plot twist, then my guess is that alcohol is also involved and the last episode of 'Lost' will show the entire run to have been the product of a pub landlord's dream, following a particularly severe drinking session.

I've actually studied the text as part of a course I took on Irish literature at university (it's the tale of a tender but brief unrequited love affair between a man and his bicycle) and if you're planning to delve into the world of Irish fiction, I would suggest you start with 'The Dubliners', 'John Bull's Other Island' or a night out with my friend Aileen who will provide you with enough source material to write your own novel. That said, don't you think the makers of the show missed a trick here? Wouldn't it have been far more satisfying to send all those 'Lost' aficionados into a spin over James Joyce's 'Ulysses'- a piece of work notable for not originally containing any punctuation whatsoever but plenty of printing errors?!?forasyouknowalackofcommasorfullstopscanmakeforextremelydifficultreading whichisattheveryleastwhatthesepeopledeserve

Yellen Degenerates

Yuck yuck and thrice yuck. The normally erudite, savvy and downright tasteful Ellen DeGeneres just blotted her copybook by inviting the Devil's spawn James Blunt onto her show. Apparently, 'You're Beautiful' is Ellen's favourite new song (precisely what did you listen to in 2005, Ellen?) and there he was, performing with those stalker eyes, delivering his heartfelt ode to a girl who sensibly rejected him. Not only is the song sickly sweet and thus vomit inducing but he writes his languid lyrics to fit in with his American audience. And so where 'underground' should be, we now found ourselves in a 'subway'. I mean, I'll all for fitting in to your surroundings but have some pride man! Do you walk on sidewalks or pavements? Open the boot or trunk? And, crucially, use or omit the letter 'u' when spelling certain words? Don't know about you, but I feel he's found "favor" over here precisely because of the lack of "color" in his life. Well, we all know one universal four letter word that contains a 'u' in it James and you can add "off" to that my friend. Almost as bad, however, was the mainly female crowd who shrieked and shrilled throughout his performance. Ellen made their year by informing said rabble that they'd be leaving with a copy of his album. Cue mass pandemonium but, in this world of complimentary CD's, you get what you don't pay for. Unhappy listening...

Franklin My Dear...

To the Bobst library for the Benjamin Franklin exhibition at New York University. This seemed a particularly relevant use of our afternoon for three reasons.

1. It's Presidents Day and everyone thinks Franklin was one. Not quite but he hung out with them.

2. I voiced a documentary on NYU last year and had to pronounce the name Ernst Bobst more times than I would care to mention (158 for the record. Probably).

3. We watched 'National Treasure' over the weekend and Franklin plays a crucial part (NB: He doesn't technically play any part but his achievements are an integral part of the plot. The film is predictably dire but is enjoyable hokum nonetheless. I see it as a dry run for 'The Da Vinci Code' - which I'm sure will be far worse - and think Anthony Lane's New Yorker review of the movie is still spot on: "it's at its best when it's at its worst").

The exhibition illustrates what an incredible guy Franklin was (I'm certain Norman Mailer summed him up just like that in a single sentence a few decades ago...) and as it runs until New Year's Eve (is that meaningful Franklin fans?) you won't have any excuses to miss out. What struck me about the good doctor was that he wrote about absolutely anything and everything on his mind: he was equally comfortable telling us about electricity but also how to get the best out of your chimney. I think we can safely say that Franklin inspired bloggers everywhere as they work along similar lines. And - ahem - as you know, there's no smoke without fire for I learnt how one of America's greatest ever citizens was not immediately loved by his own people; indeed, it was your French friends who took to him far quicker. In my mind, this makes Franklin an early forerunner to Woody Allen - he too has never received much love over here whereas in France they go crazy for him. I always wondered if this was an urban myth but lived there when 'Deconstructing Harry' was released and the people treated it like the rest of the world greets a new Spielberg picture. Well, apart from 'Always', 'Hook' and 'Amistad' but you get the point.

Back to Ben and his career was full of blockbuster hits too: he was a Founding Father who signed the Declaration of Independence, shaped the American Revolution despite never holding elective office, was an early proponent of colonial unity and historians hail him as the "First American". Oh, and in his spare time convinced Parliament to repeal the hated Stamp Act and invented the (Franklin) stove, medical catheter, lightning rod, swimfins, glass harmonica and bifocals. Phew, as we used to say. He must have come up with more famous quotes than anyone bar Shakespeare ("Time is money" and "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes" are just two of his greatest hits) but, above all, he wanted to be known as a printer so let's just throw in newspapers and magazines to his list of achievements for good measure. Speaking of reading, it's said that his autobiography is the most entertaining one ever written so I'm planning to check that out, like, ASAP. I'm almost certain it will cost far less than $100...the monetary value his face continues to adorn. All about the Benjamins? You’d better believe it.

PS My third posting in a week which has proved to be ahead of the curve. The day after I wrote this, the New York Times's Metro section published an article on the Franklin exhibition on its front page. If you see a bump in attendance, well, I'm happy to share the increase in popularity with the Times...

Great Britons

A day of undoubted triumph for my beloved Britain. Our version of the Oscars - the Baftas - took centre stage in Leicester Square and whilst your Hollywood movies scooped up the majority of the awards, you can't deny we know how to host a good show. The MC was the world's cleverest man, Steven Fry, and his terrific tone received respect from the impressively A List crowd. His theme of British schooling was majestically weaved throughout the broadcast and Jon Stewart would do well to study the tape and act more like him in two weeks time and less like last year's Oscar host Chris Rock. Though I fully expect him to take the rise out of Jude Law and, hopefully, make him Obscure (sorry to get all Thomas Hardy on you but it is late).






And as Fry took centre stage, 18 year old British tennis sensation Andy Murray took centre court over in San Jose to win his first ATP tour title. Talk about impeccable timing: not only does the championship put Murray into the World's Top 50 for the first time but he did so at the expense of an Aussie in Leyton Hewitt! You've got a bright future, son, and I'll even have to forget your keeping me waiting for an interview that never did take place at last year's US Open (pesky teenagers). His 2-6 6-1 7-6 victory was a mini classic of a match, culminating in a thrilling tie-break that Murray ultimately took with his now trademark backhand. The fact that he partially put the win down to his girlfriend watching for the first time will not be lost on potential sponsors though someone needs to do some media work on the boy and quick - he might have claimed this was "the best week of my life" (he had beaten Andy Roddick only the night before) but his face and voice suggested otherwise. My tip for you (that's you the reader, not you Andy Murray) is to slap a cheeky tenner on Murray winning the Sports Personality Of The Year award because if England fail to bring home the World Cup then a solid showing from Murray at Wimbledon might nab him the prize and you a very flush end of year. Fry and Murray then: an unlikely doubles team if ever you saw one but you couldn't have hoped for better service or return on your day's television viewing.

PS This just in from the BBC Sport website. Hope you've already made your Murray bet...

The bookmakers have also installed Murray as 8-1 to win BBC Sports Personality of Year, in from 40-1 on Friday.

Seriously Thin Ice

Memo: To Dick Ebersol, Chairman, NBC Sports

Dear Dick

So sorry to read you're getting trounced in the ratings. Personally, I can't understand why viewers are shying away from the world's finest Olympians sliding around a track on a tea tray. I'm sure Jesse Owens isn't turning in his grave - some slight shifting perhaps but nothing more. And let's be honest: there's no shame in losing out to American Idol. You've got uncomfortable outbursts (but enough about Bob Costas), a panel of judges (isn't it a bitch that the scoring system got changed?) and seemingly a plethora of long haired winners who hope to finally attract attention from the public (thanks, Flying Tomato).

But help might be at hand. Last night, I witnessed a development so stunning that it could revolutionize the rest of these XX Winter Olympics. You'd love it - for starters, it features that all important demographic, the 18-34 heterosexual male. I can almost smell your excitement from here. So there I was, enjoying a drink at a sports bar when the ice skating came on. I know what you're thinking, I got the check and the hell out of dodge. But no. And whilst the activities onscreen were of no interest whatsoever, I couldn't help but notice how all the men at the bar - don't forget, single men who were drinking away their disposable incomes to pick up women - suddenly started to take bets amongst each other as to whether the current competitor would finish his routine without falling on his behind. The business of Gold, Silver, Bronze, I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same, because my 19th placed finish doesn't make four years of training look that clever, was not their concern but, rather, if these fine gentlemen of the ice could maintain their dignity. And these weren't mere dollar bills being exchanged but sums as high as $20 and even $50. So get your skates on and rush - or at least gracefully glide - down to this bar with a camera, like, tout suite (as they don't say in Torino) and bring the hilarious betting tales of Alpha Male vs Ubersexual Jock to the nation's living rooms. My $20 says Fox, CBS and ABC don't have a prayer. Hell, Dick, these are the real American Idols.

Seacrest Out.

The Perfect Pop Song

I'm being irrational but that's what music is supposed to do to/for you, isn't it? I've been listening to 4ever by The Veronicas and consider it to be the greatest pop song ever released. Well, by next month, I know that I won't be thinking this but for the here and now we can add it to the past 10 years worth of perfect pop. And I feel it comfortably slots in with the likes of this hastily put together top 10...

Spice Girls: Wannabe (best debut single by a pop act?)
All Saints: Never Ever (possibly the only song on the list written by the band. Well, Shaznay Lewis, in any case)
Christina Aguilera: Genie In A Bottle (effortlessly better than ANYTHING Britney Spears has or ever will release. Check out the mash up 'A Stroke Of Genious')
A-Ha: Summer Moved On (still my favourite track of the decade)
Avril Lavigne: Sk8er Boi (will someone please use it in a Winter Olympics montage right now?!?)
Beyonce: Crazy In Love (Chuck Klosterman recently wrote this was so good it nearly made his head explode. He was right)
Kelly Clarkson: Since U Been Gone (nearly justifies American Idol)
Jamelia: Superstar (soooo catchy)
Madonna: Beautiful Stranger (I honestly didn't think it was her when I first heard this. That's good, right?)

The Veronicas are twins hailing from Australia. They were born on Christmas Day, which seems to make some sort of strange sense to me. Their names are Lisa and Jessica, which is but one letter away from those of my wife and her sister, which doesn't seem to make as much sense to me. If you know your pop, you won't be surprised to learn that 4ever was produced by Max Martin. He's basically this 35 year old Swedish guy whose slick production and lyrics have sold shedloads for the likes of Britney, Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC, among others. I still think there's a great documentary to be done on Martin and it would definitely involve hanging out in Sweden with him and the acts before traveling with the singers around the world to see what kind of reception Martin's work gets. Now that would be a tough gig.

What else? Admittedly, this tune does sound like the Kelly Clarkson smash hit from last year (Martin produced it too so that's hardly a surprise) in that the exact same guitar and intro seem to have been duplicated. But the reason 4Ever is the superior song is all about the lyrics. I can't actually believe I'm giving some semi-serious thought to this but Clarkson is talking about finally being able to move on from heartbreak whereas this is far more pro-active. 4ever is telling every single boy that The Veronicas couldn't care less what girl you might be seeing but no one can possibly compare to spending time with one of them. It links one night of passion to a lifetime of enjoyment and how the young (they've just turned 21) feel immortal and give scant regard to the future. You could take that theory one stage further by suggesting that nobody will even remember 4ever in a couple of years and you might be right. But it doesn't detract from its brilliance and I hope it sells millions of copies across the planet because we would do well to remember that the word pop is simply short for popular.

PS This just in: the Popbitch newsletter has the following item but I would like to point out that my posting beat them to it!


It's Max Martin baby, one more time
The return of the Max is good for pop music

Thank god for Max Martin. Back in the late 90s
his songs like Baby One More Time and Everybody
(Backstreet's Back) ruled the world. Now it's
happening again. His song for Kelly Clarkson,
Since You Been Gone, was many people's pick for
top pop track of 2005; he wrote Analogue for
a-ha, sending them back into the UK top five
for the first time since the 80s; and has
given Pink You and Your Hand, the only good
track she's done since splitting from Linda
Perry. But there's even better to come. The
Veronicas are 20 year-old identical twins from
Brisbane, Jess and Lisa Origliasso. Signed
by Madonna's former mentor, Seymour Stein, in
the States, their first single is a majestic
Max Martin pop-rock anthem, 4Ever. Listen:
http://www.myspace.com/theveronicas

Here we are so what you gonna do?
Do I gotta spell it out for you?
I can see that you got other plans for tonight
But I don’t really care

Size me up you know I beat the best
Tick tock no time to rest
Let them say what their gonna say
But tonight I just don’t really care

Come on baby we ain’t gonna live 4ever
Let me show you all the things that we could do
You know you wanna be together
And I wanna spend the night with you
Yeah, yeah with you, yeah, yeah
Come with me tonight
We could make the night last 4ever

I’ve seen it all I’ve got nothing to prove
Come on baby just make your move
Follow me lets leave it all behind tonight
Like we just don’t care

Let me take you on the ride of your life
That’s what I said alright
They can say what they wanna say
Cause tonight I just don’t even care

Come on baby we ain’t gonna live 4ever
Let me show you all the things that we could do
You know you wanna be together
And I wanna spend the night with you
Yeah, yeah with you yeah, yeah
Come with me tonight
We could make the night last 4ever

Lets pretend you’re mine
We could just pretend, we could just pretend, yeah yeah
You got what I like
You got what I like, I got what you like
Oh come on
Just one taste and you’ll want more

So tell me what your waiting for

Come on baby we ain’t gonna live 4ever
Let me show you all the things that we could do
You know you wanna be together
And I wanna spend the night with you
Yeah, yeah, with you, yeah, yeah
So come with me tonight
We could make the night last 4ever

Cheney Of Command

Nearly five days on - or in Republican terms, 48 hours - and the whole 'American Vice President shoots a 78 year old man many many times' is rightly still front page and lead item news. I present the below as sort of time capsule evidence for our future generations to read and say, "wow, they really did keep those guys in power". For any people in the future then, and the British folks reading this, hi, how's it going? Ever figure out how to get around on jet packs? Anyhoo, the below transcript is taken from the world's funniest late night fake news satire show which airs between 11 - 11.30pm Eastern Time (fact!). For those of you that have splashed out on more than five channels (aren't we such quaint people?), The Daily Show is on More4 and I believe is on a nightly delay between here and, er, there. The programme is so good it hurts and everyone who works on it has an IQ of just under 200. Probably.


Jon Stewart: “I’m joined now by our own vice-presidential firearms mishap analyst, Rob Corddry. Rob, obviously a very unfortunate situation. How is the vice president handling it?

Rob Corddry: “Jon, tonight the vice president is standing by his decision to shoot Harry Wittington. According to the best intelligence available, there were quail hidden in the brush. Everyone believed at the time there were quail in the brush. And while the quail turned out to be a 78-year-old man, even knowing that today, Mr. Cheney insists he still would have shot Mr. Whittington in the face. He believes the world is a better place for his spreading buckshot throughout the entire region of Mr. Whittington’s face.”

Jon Stewart: “But why, Rob? If he had known Mr. Whittington was not a bird, why would he still have shot him?”

Rob Corddry: “Jon, in a post-9-11 world, the American people expect their leaders to be decisive. To not have shot his friend in the face would have sent a message to the quail that America is weak.”

Jon Stewart: “That’s horrible.”

Rob Corddry: “Look, the mere fact that we’re even talking about how the vice president drives up with his rich friends in cars to shoot farm-raised wingless quail-tards is letting the quail know ‘how’ we’re hunting them. I’m sure right now those birds are laughing at us in that little ‘covey’ of theirs.

Jon Stewart: “I’m not sure birds can laugh, Rob.”

Rob Corddry: “Well, whatever it is they do … coo .. they’re cooing at us right now, Jon, because here we are talking openly about our plans to hunt them. Jig is up. Quails one, America zero.

Jon Stewart: “Okay, well, on a purely human level, is the vice president at least sorry?”

Rob Corddry: “Jon, what difference does it make? The bullets are already in this man’s face. Let’s move forward across party lines as a people … to get him some sort of mask.”

Radio Ga(g) Ga(g)

American radio really is rubbish. I caught some of "92.3 Free FM" this morning and the Roth Radio show. The call-in debate was - I kid you not - what would you rather be: dead or blind? And the responses came flooding in. Roth was going on about how he wouldn't care what he wore, or how his hair looked or what kind of women he was seen next to. The listeners were treating this with the kind of seriousness usually reserved with should we go to war?

It brought to mind the seminal scene from 'I'm Alan Partridge' where, in a typical moment of desperation, Alan mentioned several ideas for a new programme on the BBC as alternatives to the Knowing Me, Knowing You chat show. The BBC executive had to listen to these classics: "Lady Parts with Alan Partridge", "Alan Attack", "Arm Wrestling with Chas and Dave", "Knowing M.E, Knowing You with Alan Partridge", "Inner City Sumo", and "Monkey Tennis". The fact that Roth would happily use any of those is an irony not lost on me.

Brit Of Alright

After the stunning successes of my Grammy Picks (2 for 6), I'm chancing my arm once again with this evening's Brit Awards in London. The show itself has had many ups and downs over its 26 year history. Mainly downs. Who could ever forget Mick Fleetwood and Samantha Fox bumbling and stumbling their way through the 1989 show? I was 11 years old at the time, had little or no knowledge of what an autocue was, but realised that something was indeed rotten in the state of Denmark. Or, more likely, Alexandra Palace.

I don't think anyone will be claiming that 2005 was a vintage year for British music: for every KT Tunstall and Arctic Monkeys, there's a James Blunt or latest X Factor winner. And they sell far more records. But why the (ongoing) dismissive attitude towards Coldplay? They may not be the most vital or coolest band out there but I remain convinced that they've made two and a half great albums and if you want to be the new U2, your statements and sentiments need to be grandiose, have a healthy nod towards cliché and, in all probability, rhyme wherever possible. Though I still think had they written Aqualung's 'Brighter Than Sunshine' instead of 'What If', we'd be dealing with some serious talent.

Your host for the night is Chris Evans - he with the red hair, continuing career revival and 2nd best April 1st birthday in Britain - and we're promised performances from Kaiser Chiefs, Gorillaz (bet it won't be anywhere as good as their Grammy opener with Madonna), Kanye West and, most impressively, Prince. The Brits might be the Baftas to Hollywood's Oscars (though I grant you - the Baftas already are the Baftas to Hollywood's Oscars) but they're ours so let's celebrate that. And I hear Fleetwood and Fox haven't been let anywhere near an autocue or guest list...

BEST GROUP

Coldplay

Franz Ferdinand

Gorillaz

Hard-Fi

Kaiser Chiefs

Actually, I'm nearly swelling up with pride at these nominees. Franz Ferdinand had arguably the weakest year from these five and I've really rated Hard Fi's singles thus far. The ubiquitous Coldplay clearly deserve inclusion whereas the Kaisers are the nearest thing we have in Blur's continuing absence. And the reason for this hiatus? Why because Damon Albarn is concentrating on his side project as a cartoon character. Their 'Demon Days' has grown on me no end and I'm curious to check them out live. I'm hoping they win something just for the acceptance speech but can't see past Yorkshire for the winner.

WILL WIN: KAISER CHIEFS
SHOULD WIN: GORILLAZ

BRITISH SINGLE

Shayne Ward - That's My Goal

Coldplay - Speed of Sound

James Blunt - You're Beautiful

Tony Christie - Amarillo

Sugababes - Push The Button

The antithesis to Best British Group comes in the form of Best Single. Let's make this as painless as possible: this list has one ace track, one average song and three turkeys. We can at least excuse Tony Christie as it was for charity (mate) but can't go as easy on Shayne Ward. Don't worry, he'll be serving you over priced beers within two years. Sugababes are more interesting away from music if their most recent line-up change is anything to go by (they switch singers as often as Real Madrid bring in managers) and the "Best" song here - 'Speed Of Sound' - hasn't got a hope against the might of Blunt. What's the point in being pithy? He's gonna walk it.

WILL WIN: JAMES BLUNT
SHOULD WIN: COLDPLAY

BRITISH ALBUM

Coldplay - X&Y

Gorillaz - Demon Days

James Blunt - Back To Bedlam

Kaiser Chiefs - Employment

Kate Bush - Aerial

The Indie world is well represented with only Blunt being massively mainstream. Neither of the other four records is truly exceptional and I see a theme of doubles on the night (Blunt, Tunstall) with the Kaisers scoring themselves a debut brace by also nabbing Best British Album. It's packed with singles naggingly addictive enough to hum out loud and your postman probably knows the one that goes "na na na na na na". That's incisive analysis, isn't it? And he'll be whistling it on Thursday.

WILL WIN: KAISER CHIEFS
SHOULD WIN: KAISER CHIEFS

BRITISH MALE

Antony & the Johnsons

Ian Brown

James Blunt

Robbie Williams

Will Young

If you know me, you'll expect me to go for Ian Brown on obvious grounds (i.e. anyone involved with the first Stone Roses album can walk on water) but I'll try not to be so predictable. I've yet to fall for Brown's solo material as it became blatantly clear that his distinctly average vocals were carried by John Squire's incendiary (like, cheers, Lester Bangs) guitar playing. I never "got" Antony either: I know he was born in Chichester but he is in every sense a product of the drag scene here in New York. But if he won a Mercury, I suppose you have to nominate him for a Brit. Amazingly, I find myself hoping that either Will Young or Robbie Williams win this; I realise that Young is a product of the reality system that I despise but his albums have shown signs of maturity. Robbie works along similar lines: the once boy band member with Take That (anyone else remember the NME screaming 'Take Fat And Porky!' a decade ago?) has produced a body of work that is frankly startling (if we keep this in perspective...he had little talent to start with) and I had no problem putting his Greatest Hits on my ipod (though I must point out that the record company sent me them in the first place). And attaching himself to Steven "Tin Tin" Duffy for his most recent release illustrates that he'll be remembered far longer than this year's winner.

WILL WIN: JAMES BLUNT
SHOULD WIN: ROBBIE WILLIAMS

BRITISH FEMALE

Charlotte Church

Kate Bush

KT Tunstall

Katie Melua

Natasha Bedingfield

Regardless of the winner, I remain surprised that Annie Lennox wasn't nominated. I couldn't even say for sure whether she released anything in 2005 but isn't it a no brainer that she appears here? Her peer Kate Bush does turn up though of course she finally did make a new contribution to her canon of work with the confused Ariel. Naturally, it polarized the critics and I think she scares me more than anything else - I can still recall hearing 'Running Up That Hill' as a child and how her voice gave me nightmares. Speaking of which, let's hope neither Katie Melua and Charlotte Church win nor sing on the night, which leaves us with two contenders. Natasha is by far the more talented of the Bedingfields and anyone capable of the lyric, "Read some Byron, Shelley and Keats/Recited it over a hip-hop beat" would usually walk away with any award. But this is KT's night and rightly so. Other postings of mine have raved about her ability and it's pleasing that the early signs suggest the Americans have taken to her so readily.

WILL WIN: KT TUNSTALL
SHOULD WIN: KT TUNSTALL

INTERNATIONAL GROUP/ALBUM

Arcade Fire

Black Eyed Peas (just group)

Green Day

U2

White Stripes

Kanye West (just album)

Madonna (just album)

Allow me to be ever so slightly cynical. As Kanye West is showing up and performing, I'll take that to mean he's going to win Best International Album? I won't overlook U2 all together and imagine they'll take home Best International Group. Personally, I would have dispensed with Black Eyed Peas, Green Day and White Stripes (what, no Rilo Kiley?) but am pleased that Madge gets a nomination for her wonderful album: it's just like having a nightclub in your head. Arcade Fire, meanwhile, look likely to miss out again but I boldly predict that come December 31st 2009, more than one publication will declare 'Funeral' the album of the decade.

WILL WIN: U2/KANYE WEST
SHOULD WIN: ARCADE FIRE/KANYE WEST

Crazy Crazy Nights

Of course, it was thought up by the greeting card companies but I know it's on your mind today: just what is the address of that Texas hospital so you can send Dick Cheney's helpless victim Harry Whittington a get well card? And in other news, Happy Valentines Day.

I wasn't sure if it was a New York Times wind-up piece or not but a good half page op-ed is devoted to the history of the kiss in today's Feb 14th edition. I provide the link below (it's the question mark...answers on a postcard) but smiled at the final paragraph (I guess this should be a spoiler alert) which reveals the stunning result of a 1980's study. It suggests that men who kiss their wives (gasp...you're allowed more than one?!?) before leaving for work live longer, get into fewer car accidents and have a higher income. If any article could take the joy right out of a simple kiss then this is the one. And, obviously, the writer includes the obligatory 'what Freud had to say on kissing' paragraph. I'm pretty sure it was along these lines...

For Freud, kissing was a subconscious return to suckling at the mother's breast. His diary - 'Ahead of my time: Freudian Slips and other Dick Cheney PR disasters' - revealed the following entries.

"Feb 14th. Tried to kiss Mrs. Freud before leaving for my work on the uncanny similarities between Mrs. F and my mother. La Freud didn't want anything to do with Sigmund's saliva so I stormed out and promised to only refer to myself in the third person from now on and how if she rejected me again, well, there are plenty of ladies who wouldn't turn down my clever, clever lips. Ha, that showed her".

"Feb 15th. Regretting pissing off the wife. Got into a car crash mere minutes after my outburst, my employers have halved my salary for reasons I cannot fathom (I think they said something along the lines of 'frankly, even we're getting freaked out with all the sex stuff') and Mrs. F has withheld all sexual favours until further notice. Not sure what to make of her last words on the matter: Analyze This!"

Proving Popular Then

So how are your Winter Olympics going? And more importantly, hasn't this been a good week for our old friend, the Roman Numeral? Last Sunday's Super Bowl was XL and now we're confronted with XX. Ever found yourself asking 'what have the Romans ever done for us'? (thought not). Well, there's your answer.

The results of the above poll suggest that Olympic Fever hasn't exactly taken off yet. I thought that 22.8 million people tuning into the Opening Ceremony was decent business for NBC but apparently not (it's 50% down on Salt Lake City back in 2002). Still, they've already sold $900 million worth of ads. Let's pray they're of the Geico quality and not Pepsi's 'Brown And Bubbly' (a tagline that, I think, has been removed after less than a week). Back in Blighty and BBC Sport bosses were rightly pleased with their opening weekend: a peak of 4 million for the Opening shindig and 4.2 million punters - that was 21% of the entire TV watching audience - tuning in for last night's ski jumping.

As for the sport (yeah, that takes place too), it's probably been more entertaining than I thought it would be. Britain's reigning Gold medal curlers - or housewives on acid as I like to think of them - won their opening match this morning and I'll be delighted if any of our athletes finish on the winning podium at all. Mr. Hype himself, Bode Miller, failed to win a medal yesterday but was seen in Torino's local nightclubs before his event which will please his paymasters over at Nike no end and 'The Flying Tomato' Shaun White won snowboarding Gold. You can debate the merits all night long as to whether it should even be an Olympic event but any outfit which has room for an ipod must surely be applauded. Did you see his interview with Bob Costas? When asked what the Gold medal might do for him, the Tomato expressed hope that it would make him more attractive to women. He's certainly got plenty of time to ketchup (boom boom). And isn't it good to see the original Olympic ethos hard at work: you know, it's not the winning that counts but the banging of babes? God Bless America.

Snow Joke

I was planning to write something about the snow over the weekend but my caring colleagues have - once again - beaten me to the punch (line)...

-----Original Message-----
From: Paul Foster
Sent: Mon 2/13/2006 3:39 PM
To: Glen Levy; Sunil Patel-Sport; Phil Sibson; Ian Finch-INTERNET
Subject:

The passage below, on the weekend's storms, is from the New York Times.

"For many indoors, it was a day to relax by a window, perhaps with a glass of wine and soft jazz on the radio, and take in the unreal loveliness of winter - the panes frosted like glass from Murano, the sills drifted with flourishes of lacework, and, out in the storm, dreamscapes of snow blowing down a street, curtains of snow falling in great sweeps, snow settling like peace in the parks and skeletal woodlands."

Delighted that Glen has managed to find some high profile work across the pond!

Dinner In Pinner

As I sit here, looking out the window at probably more snow than I've ever seen in a city not known for skiing, it all seems a far cry from my recent trip to London. Before I move on to the main course - clever, huh? - of this posting, a quick observation from JFK airport. Perusing the DVD's in the terminal, I couldn't help but notice that the number 1 and 2 best sellers right now are Red Eye and Flight Plan. Does this mean that a high proportion of people who might be persuaded to abduct children or threaten passengers are currently in our skies or that the sheer thrill of flying has been superseded by a need to terrify oneself even more in the air? Either way, I'll take my chances with the in-flight entertainment and meal options...surely not getting sick after choosing the chicken or pasta is more satisfying than watching Jodie Foster looking for her child or debating whether Cillian is even a real name?

The highlight of the brief trip - a dry run, if you will - was a trip to the pub and a meal at the local curry house, Pinner Tandoori. This fine establishment has been a constant of my curry eating experiences. A few years back, some of us even got invited to inspect the kitchens at PT. To this day, I'm still unsure why but if you haven't seen naan bread prepared in front of you, well, you just haven't lived. No kitchen tour this time around but we did get a 10% discount for no real reason: maybe these photos will offer some clues...


Ali, Louise, Josh and Jo express their delight at being at the pub with me!



James and Ali do the traditional post curry wipe of the face...



...and Greg does his traditional wipe!



PT regular Andy enjoys his millionth meal



The legends who keep PT ticking over

Life Begins at 40...

...Super Bowls and dollars that is (on which, more later) and not in any way a reference to The Rolling Stones or their performance yesterday. To wit: a classic, a new one off the recent album no one bought and another classic. Mick and the "boys" played in a giant tongue, threw some shapes and one can only hope they take Jerome Bettis's lead and retire forthwith.

To Westchester, then, for the biggest day of the American year: Super Bowl. And biggest in the sense of most food consumed in a single seating by all this fine country's residents. According to research by the US Calorie Control Council, gridiron fans ate their way through 11 million pounds of crisps, 8m lbs of tortilla chips, 4m lbs of pretzels and 2.5m lbs of nuts. The average armchair quarterback consumed 1,200 calories, and 50 grams of fat, in a three-hour scoffing binge. This, people, is about more than sport.

So no wonder it was Super Bowl XL: finally, Extra Large could live up to the name. The game itself was a let down (a shame seeing as I was excited for my first Super Bowl in the USA, having regularly been given special permission to stay up late in the UK as a child due to the 5-8 hour time difference). The Steelers beat the Seahawks 21-10 but please pay special attention to the final digit in each team: we had the 1 and the 0 on our box pool (any Brit reading this should ask or email me to explain further) resulting in our taking a juicy $40 pot all the way back to the East Village. As fate would deliciously have it, that will pay for tonight's cab fare to JFK so, once again (I seemingly am in their debt every week), a huge thanks to Helen and Gary for the invite. I gave the above slightly more thought on the car ride home (a car ride, it should be pointed out, which resonated to exclusively British bands on Susan's Sirius Satellite 'First Wave' radio station...The Cure, Joy Division etc. etc. all selected by a DJ with the single greatest name in radio history - Frankie Snakeskin) and worked out this crazy stat: added to my poker winnings in Westchester, I'm rather ashamed to say that this fine house, after the BBC and Craig's List, has been my third highest source of income this year! One thing's for sure: when Helen and Gary visit London, we'll be showing them one hell of a good time. The aim will be that they CAN'T say they got no satisfaction...

Let's Have Coffee...

Five years into the job - a veritable lifetime in the unstable world that is football management - QPR manager Ian Holloway has left the club on "gardening leave" because of speculation linking him with the vacant manager's job at Leicester City.

"QPR has not sacked Ian," chairman Gianni Paladini told the club website. "But we are concerned about recent performances and the effect speculation about Ian joining Leicester City might have on the players."

Make no mistake: Holloway will not be managing the club again, that's just some strange spin from the club, who have been in a slump all season long. I can't help but feel there is more to come from this story, as Holloway has hinted at unrest behind the scenes (financial woes, Paladini allegedly held at gunpoint before a match) and will surely speak out soon enough. For my part, he probably has taken the club has far as he could. We live in a results world and the senior players seemed to lose their belief in him a while back. Whether caretaker Gary Waddock (who has already promised a new style of play from his first press conference this morning) is the man to return us to the Premier League is highly debatable but expect a win on Saturday against Millwall and then your guess is as good as mine.

His five years were quite a whirlwind. Holloway took over in exactly the same position the club now finds itself in: languishing towards the bottom of (the old) Division 1. His first programme notes welcomed us to "this Division 2 fixture" which wasn't the most auspicious of starts. Soon enough, we were relegated and made an extremely average start to life in our lowest league in three decades. And then something stirred: Holloway nearly lost his job after exiting the FA Cup to non league side Vauxhall Motors (yes, the car company!) but re-signed former hero Kevin Gallen and the team started to find its feet. And Holloway started to find his voice. After each game, he came out with a series of increasingly mad soundbites, which brought the club to the attention of the nation once again. The 2002/03 season ended in the Play Off final after a thrilling victory against Oldham, which is still the loudest I can ever remember Loftus Road but fate wasn't on our side. We lost 1-0 to Cardiff City in extra time and cried all the way home. The game was played in Cardiff and their Chairman's ex-bodyguard set off the fire alarm in the players' hotel at 4am on the day of the final. Still, Holloway had restored some much needed pride to the football club.

The 2003/04 season was, however, the best in years. I remember how the first of forty-six games was played in 100 degree heat as we swept Blackpool aside 5-0. From there on in, we remained in contention at the top of the table. Plymouth ended up winning the league - beating us 2-0 to clinch the division - and so it came down to the final game of the season. Bristol City (whose fans hate Holloway as he used to manage their rivals Bristol Rovers) had to win and hope we didn't beat Sheffield Wednesday at their stadium. The games started at the same time and City had already gone 2-0 up whilst we were still at 0-0. Gallen then opened the scoring for QPR before Paul Furlong doubled the lead. Sheffield pulled one back and nearly made it 2-2...instead, QPR made a goal line clearance, raced down the pitch and a cross saw a Sheffield player put the ball into his own net to secure a 3-1 win and promotion. The sight of 12,000 fans celebrating will stay with me forever and that's why any real QPR fan will always have a place in his heart for Holloway.

Last season again saw Holloway threatened with the sack - the rumor was he would be replaced by an Argentinian who didn't speak a word of English! - before the team won seven in a row and briefly flirted with a second successive promotion. This campaign has been far more unsatisfactory and it's somewhat ironic that the final straw probably came in last week's home defeat to Leicester - the side Holloway may well manage next. His last match in charge (many are now saying that he already knew then that he was going) was a 2-0 loss at Leeds United. We created little and Holloway handed a staggering five players their debuts. He typically said afterwards that it was more like "Queens Park Strangers". And that Ian, is what you will now be to us. In honour of your five years, I put up your most (in)famous post match quote. All the best...

"To put it in gentleman's terms, if you've been out for a night and you're looking for a young lady and you pull one, you've done what you set out to do. We didn't look our best today but we've pulled.

Some weeks the lady is good looking and some weeks they're not. Our performance today would have been not the best looking bird but at least we got her in the taxi.

She may not have been the best looking lady we ended up taking home but it was still very pleasant and very nice, so thanks very much and let's have coffee."

This Never Happened To The Other Fella

I'm not entirely sure how the situation came to this but I finally saw the one James Bond film I'd yet to catch this afternoon. Perhaps because everyone at school mocked it - or maybe because I'd read in various quarters that it was the worst in the series - but On Her Majesty's Secret Service had eluded me.

The truth is that OHMSS is nowhere near the worst Bond movie but it's certainly the strangest. It starts with a suicide attempt and ends with a tragic death. In between, we're treated to surreal set pieces, the most ludicrous puffy shirts in history and Bond quite seriously instructing a dog to fetch him some brandy. Here are a few bullet points - without the bullets, sorry 007 - of what went down.

James Bond can be quite clearly seen reading Playboy. To the extent that he's holding the centerfold the correct way.

A harem of women wolf down cake for no apparent reason.

One of the reasons Draco wants Bond to marry his daughter is so that someone will, "make love to her". Is that how prospective father-in-laws acted in 1969? Allow me to quote: "What she needs is a man...to dominate her. A man to make love to her enough to make her love him."

The theme tune isn't Louis Armstrong’s We Have All The Time In The World. Despite you probably thinking it is.

Now, I don't know anything about director Peter R. Hunt (there's a name to nearly have fun with) but I'm quite certain he was on drugs during the filming of OHMSS. The camera blurs throughout and the whip pans and cuts would probably be heralded today as "Tarantino esque". Not for nothing is the tag line "Far up! Far out! Far more!" But in 1969, films didn't act like that. Don't believe me? Rent Bullitt - made in 1968 - and check out the opening scene: it's a single shot of a car slowly snaking around the street. It must take a good three minutes and it will make you feel awkward. Let's not forget that Bullitt is reliably called one of the most exciting movies of all time.

I've just finished watching it and I still don't know what to make out of this movie. Telly Savalas makes for a confusing Blofeld and the rival crime boss persuading Bond to marry his daughter (Diana Rigg) must put 007 (bearing in mind the ending) into therapy for life. The skiing scenes are accomplished but that ending is arguably the most downbeat in the history of mainstream cinema. No wonder this was a one-time deal for debut Bond George Lazenby (he actually turned down a multi picture offer). And is it me but aren't we expected to believe that there's only one 007? By saying as the pay off to the pre-credits opening that, "this never happened to the other fella", 007 is surely referring to Sean Connery's Bond?!? And that's just too self-aware for my liking. In fact, you could say that OHMSS put the Bond franchise back a good 25 years (though I defy you to dismiss The Spy Who Loved Me, possibly the best Bond ever with the loveliest Bond girl in Barbara Bach and some stunning action sequences) until Pierce Brosnan shook it out of its Shakespearean (well, Timothy Dalton) slump. Back to 1969 and you were left to reflect on Savalas telling us, "I've taught you to love chickens, to love their flesh, their voice." OHMSS: it's hard to love ya, baby.

Smash Hits The Fan

The feeling is comparable to your once favourite band finally announcing that they're splitting up. You couldn't be too upset but that sentimental attachment will always be there. And Smash Hits magazine is to close after 28 years, publishing company Emap said, causing a generation to cry into their Marti Pillows...

Smash Hits was first published in September 1978 with Belgian one-hit-wonder Plastic Bertrand - real name Roger Jouret - on the cover. Of course, I haven't read/bought it since 1989. And that's where the problem clearly lay with "our" age group - who didn't give up after the Kylie and Jason cover (it sold a record million copies)? Was it me but I always enjoyed the printed lyrics far more than the posters? Especially when they made them up. I once visited the offices as part of my work experience on The O Zone for a Spice Girls special. I expected the writers to be discussing the hot pop acts of the day but, alas, nothing. I really think I lost my media innocence that day: from witnessing Michael Winner's demands to be shot upwards to hide his chins to the sheer cynicism of publicist Max Clifford (profiled in last weekend's New York Times, no less), it was quite the introduction. But it did result in my first ever TV credit (BBC2, August 1998 on a Friday, if you're wondering).

I must give SH credit for formally introducing me to punning (well, it went hand in hand with James Bond, Carry On and Marx Brothers movies) and anything launched by Mark Ellen and David Hepworth is always worth reading. And I trust their legacy carries on with Q (20 years strong this year) and The Word magazine. This is an actual memo Hepworth sent to the music industry way back in 1981 and says more than I can...

"It is my intention to reverse the entire direction of popular music publishing in favour of entirely doing trivia....We want to know the colour of your artists' socks."

I guess today, the colour is black...

Grammy Hall

The forty-eighth Grammy awards are but a week away. The music industry will descend upon Los Angeles any moment now and will have to deal with Woody Allen's assertion that he didn't "want to move to a city where the only cultural advantage is being able to make a right turn on a red light". For my own part, I shall be even further away on the night enjoying the pub and a curry with my friends back in London so I thought I would go through some of the main categories and attempt to make some predictions. Here's one off the bat: I fear that I'll never make it to the ceremony. A few years ago, I was this (puts thumb and forefinger together) close to going as I was in town to conduct interviews for a documentary series I was making on directors of music videos. U2 had agreed on principal to grant me 10 minutes at the event but sadly pulled the plug as more pressing commitments took over. It's fine, really, I didn't blame them and still listen to their music. Moby, on the other hand, who cancelled our Chateau Marmont interview a few days before the show is (in a Stephen Colbert tone) dead to me... make sure you take care on those red lights ; )

Record Of The Year

We Belong Together, Mariah Carey

Feel Good Inc., Gorillaz

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams, Green Day

Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani

Gold Digger, Kanye West

The buzz is that this is Mariah Carey's year. So let's just state that she'll win in the "important" categories like this one. Three monster tunes here with Kanye West's Gold Digger eclipsing Gorillaz and Gwen (in that order). I believe Gold Digger is up there with Hey Ya and Crazy In Love in the sense that it plays well across pretty much every demographic (between the ages of 5 and 50 in any case) which possibly proves that hip hop and R & B have become more accessible than rock.

WILL WIN: MARIAH CAREY
SHOULD WIN: KANYE WEST

Album Of The Year

The Emancipation Of Mimi, Mariah Carey

Chaos And Creation In The Backyard, Paul McCartney

Love. Angel. Music. Baby. Gwen Stefani

How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, U2

Late Registration, Kanye West

Inexplicably, Mariah Carey is favoured to pull off the double and take home Album Of The Year. I read one (unintentionally) hilarious prediction stating that Paul McCartney will nab this because the other heavyweights will cancel each other out. Not a chance. I can't see Stefani winning because I view her as a singles act; and correct me if I'm wrong but didn't the U2 record come out in November 2004? Does this mean that because Bono is politically active and a very good person to boot that their release date got overlooked?!? Of course, the standout effort was by Kanye but a win here could subliminally be read as Grammy voters agreeing with his comments about Bush. I fear that come the end of the night, you might argue that Grammy voters don't care about Kanye West...

WILL WIN: MARIAH CAREY
SHOULD WIN: KANYE WEST

Best Rock Song

Speed Of Sound, Coldplay

Best Of You, Foo Fighters

Beverly Hills, Weezer

City Of Blinding Lights, U2

Devils & Dust, Bruce Springsteen

An extremely solid selection with only Springsteen's inclusion smacking of the old boy network clearly being at work. Only the Foo Fighters truly "rock" out of these five choices but I think this will go to Coldplay. Weezer's Beverly Hills might be viewed as too novelty (the video was shot at the Playboy mansion, fact fans) and U2 have bigger awards to win. And so Chris Martin will get his chance to make trade fair. Or at least do the decent thing and update us on Gwyneth's pregnancy ("she seems to put gherkins in her ice cream").

WILL WIN: COLDPLAY
SHOULD WIN: FOO FIGHTERS

Best Rock Album

X&Y, Coldplay

In Your Honor, Foo Fighters

A Bigger Bang, The Rolling Stones

How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, U2

Prairie Wind, Neil Young

Never mind who actually wins here just think about the nominees combined age! Not exactly the raison d'etre of rock, is it? And wouldn't it be wonderful if either the Stones or Neil Young won just to see if they could walk up to the stage? A Bigger Bang was viewed as the Stones best album in twenty years but does that make it a worthy contender? Young's Prairie Wind was far more accomplished and is my sneaky tip to "do" a Steely Dan and pull off a shock win. That said, I can't look beyond U2. Again, should they be nominated but, seeing as they are, that must mean something. In Your Honor was slightly on the long side and X & Y is (in my opinion) a truly epic side X and very average side Y. Go back down the alphabet and there's your winner...

WILL WIN: U2
SHOULD WIN: U2

Best Alternative Music Album

Funeral, The Arcade Fire

Guero, Beck

Plans, Death Cab For Cutie

You Could Have It So Much Better, Franz Ferdinand

Get Behind Me Satan, The White Stripes

It must be me then. The clear winner - Arcade Fire's Funeral - is another 2004 release but as ver Fire are U2's act of choice to enter the stage to, maybe Bono had a word with Mr. and Mrs. Grammy and paved the way for them. Putting my snarky comments to one side, Funeral is an incredible record, unlike anything else nominated. If you haven't got it, well, you're missing out so do the decent thing and be nice to your Canadian cousins! Otherwise, there was more interesting work from Beck and The White Stripes but they've both seen better days. Franz Ferdinand released an arguably weaker sophomore album whereas Death Cab are probably included because the current dictionary definition of 'alternative' has a portrait of the band looking pensive. No, really.

WILL WIN: ARCADE FIRE
SHOULD WIN: ARCADE FIRE

Best Rap Album

Be, Common

The Cookbook, Missy Elliott

Encore, Eminem

The Massacre, 50 Cent

Late Registration, Kanye West

At least he'll walk away with this one. I can't really imagine what Kanye would have to say to not win here (though his Rolling Stone Jesus cover might potentially upset a few undecided voters). Missy Elliott continues her token 'woman who it's acceptable to listen to in the male dominated world that is rap' (rolls right off the tongue, yeah?) role but I feel that her and Eminem's time has gone in the eyes and ears of the voters. Common has a shot with his finest album but even that would be a virtual victory for Mr. West as he produced it. 50 Cent - or 31p as we like to call him in England - has the credibility factor (will we ever tire of learning how many times he's been shot?) but I'll eat my foam Grammy hat if Late Registration comes anywhere but first.

WILL WIN: KANYE WEST
SHOULD WIN: KANYE WEST