September 5th - September 11th 2005
Sunday Istanbul 1992
Saturday Obituary watch update
Friday Eyelashed
Thursday Pogo-partei
Wednesday Obituary watch
Tuesday Pope2
Monday Phelpsed
Sunday 11th September 2005
Istanbul, Christmas 1992
Saturday 10th September 2005
You may have noticed by now that Obituary Watch is, largely, less about venerating the dead than it is about exposing the exquisite periphrases of those who write about them, especially when the deceased turns out to have been a Big Old Queer.
Hopefully, then, you will enjoy comparing what the Telegraph and the Independent had to say about Bertie Hope-Davies.
The Independent's obit, now sadly tucked away behind its pay-to-view firewall, hedged its bets only slightly:
Bertie Hope-Davies died, as obituarists say, "unmarried" and never disguised, or obtruded, his inclinations but bubbled rather than seethed with indignation at the expression "gay".
The Telegraph, on the other hand, draws several moth-eaten veils:
Bertie Hope-Davies, who died on August 23 aged 77, was the most gregarious bachelor and welcome house guest of his age; his capacity for friendship, his absurd contradictions (he was known to change his mind in mid-sentence) and his boundless enthusiasm appealed to and delighted every generation he encountered.
A man of old-fashioned style and taste, wit without malice and gossip without betrayal, Hope-Davies was a welcome presence at parties in London and at weekends in the country... Successive generations of the landed and literate described [him] as "simply the best house guest and the ultimate 'spare man'."
Hope-Davies shared the flat with his friend Gregory Dolak and a mongrel called Ben [and] is survived by his mother who, aged 103, still lives in west London.
(You might consider that that last sentence contains adequate justification for such a sledge-load of euphemism; thankfully, the odds on Mrs Hope-Davies being a Blogadoon reader remain low.)
Friday 9th September 2005
It's a difficult admission for someone who cultivates such a hard-nosed public profile, but the very thought of Joseph Fiennes makes me go weak at the knees. Can those really be his own eye-lashes?
Perhaps Nigel Farndale, writing in the Telegraph, can answer these, and other pertinent questions?
Perhaps not. Nigel's piece begins with references to Fiennes' gentle, earnest voice... limpid, bearish-brown eyes and extravagantly long eyelashes before passing on to laud his brooding sensitivity and his full, handsomely scarred lower lip.
Pausing only to wipe the drool from his jowls, Nigel asks Fiennes about Killing Me Softly:
"That was in the vein of an erotic thriller," replies Fiennes, "a very difficult genre because if you don't get it right it becomes too giggly. Bodies aren't always beautiful and sometimes what is beautiful is not necessarily a bottom going up and down."
Nigel, Nigel, stop before you embarass yourself, you cry. But no! Blinded by the thought of that bottom going up and down, up and down, Nigel forges on, swooning like a star-struck teen:
Does he ever get, um, visibly aroused during sex scenes? "Quite the opposite, in fact. I would love to show my prowess and say 'absolutely' but, with 20 hairy-arsed sparks standing around, I never do..."
Has he ever had his heart broken? "Yes, I have had my heart broken. Of course. Where does that come from? Why do you say that?"
I think we know where that comes from. And I think we can sympathise. Which is why, Nigel, I offer you this prophylactic screen-shot, Joseph Fiennes in Enemy at the Gates:
Thursday 8th September 2005
Who said German politics is boring?
All officially registered political parties have the right to air a party political broadcast, up to and including the Hamburg-based Anarchistische Pogo-Partei Deutschlands whose manifesto lists, as one of its goals, "humankind's complete and ultimate return to stupidity".
Couldn't happen here. Sadly.
Wednesday 7th September 2005
Most unforgivably in the producer's view, Aylward, who was reputedly well endowed, kept a plaster cast of his penis in his dressing room, where it elicited more than a few chuckles from visitors.
Beaumont confiscated this, telling Aylward, "I gather the cleaners were deeply shocked." Aylward discovered later that Beaumont kept the plaster cast at his country retreat and had turned it into a table lamp.
Tuesday 6th September 2005
Considerable controversy has followed the Pope's reiterated support for President Mubarak in the Egyptian elections.
How so? The Pope is Egyptian after all.
You thought he was German? Think again.
Monday 5th September 2005
When no less an internet celebrity than Fred Phelps loudly declares that Sweden is a land of sodomy, bestiality, and incest one's immediate inclination is to pause to consider the several Swedes of whom one has first-hand knowledge, as it were, and pass on.
But there's more to it than that, for this is the swivel-eyed frothy-mouthed Fred Phelps of God Hates Fags fame, whose Westboro Baptist Church notoriously picketed the funeral of gay-hate victim Matthew Shepard.
So when he tells Swedes that they are "drippings from the Devil's own penis - a veritable sperm bank for Satan's queers" how seriously should we take him?
One option is simply to assume the obvious - that Phelps is stark staring mad (as witness his statement that George Bush worships Mr. Peanut, whose name is the great God Goober) - and move on.
But there's also the interesting possibility of regarding Phelps as a benign influence, one who usefully unites all factions against him, a theory spelt out by Steve Ouellette of the PressRepublican.
Or, to go further in that direction, why not follow the suggestion mentioned in Phelp's superlative Wikipedia entry: "Some on the internet... believe that Phelps is actually a brilliant performance artist crafting the greatest piece of art ever made, citing as evidence the large number of headline-grabbing press releases announcing upcoming pickets that the family makes no effort - or lacks the resources - to actually show for."
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