Tough Love

Wednesday, September 07, 2005


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One bubbly yet down-to-earth Northern barmaid. Cunningly replaced (in cartoon TV series manner) by an evil doppelganger with permanent eyebags, agoraphobia and unacceptable taste in nightwear.

Seriously, Les Producers de Corrie, what have you done? As the lot of you are card-carrying homosexuals don’t you love strong women? Don’t you want to see them triumphing against adversity and feckless Northern men in leopardskin? You know the drill, ever with a cocktail in their hands and a cheap son in their hearts?

So what’s up with Shelley? Not so much Elsie Tanner as Lisa from East-“We Hate Women”-Enders. Yes, we like a joke (and more excuses to see Charlie with his manly chest out would be gratefully accepted – can’t Jack’s pigeons steal his collection of tight white t-shirts or something?). But this is beyond one.

We want Old Shelley back. Remember her? She used to say things like this: -

In the back parlour in the Rover’s. Fred, Kieran and Shelley. Fred’s in butcher’s mufti, Kieran in a brickie’s Saturday night shirt, Shelley in some asymmetric top that makes her look like a bag of suet with an elastic band round the middle.

Fred (To Kieran, defending his right to wed a Thai bride): You’ve been around the world, and dallied with ladies from every Continent. Why can’t I have my taste of the Orient?

Shelley: Why can’t you be happy with sweet and sour pork like the rest of us round here?

See, that’s what we want back. Sweet and sour pork Shelley. Not joyless All-bran Shelley with added pain, misery and madwomen in the attic.

So come on, get Bev to fuck Charlie to death in a bizarre accident or something and send the actor over to our house for re-education.

And while you’re at it, enough with turning poor Clur into Deirdre already. Send her to Specsavers. Maybe she’ll see sense and realise Ashley looks more like the tall one from Cannon and Ball with each passing day.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Somewhere over the Rainbow Flag


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Have just been stolen from a Museum in America this week. The police are looking for the thieves.

It's probably safe to say they've narrowed their search to people with a lot of Kylie and Madonna records in their collections.

In fact, if it came to an identity parade, perhaps it would be easiest to throw a ball at the assembled line-up and shout "Catch!"

Have a good weekend.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Even More Slang!

Here are the latest terms making us titter into our vodka and Horlicks over in Tough Love Towers

H&M – No, not the purveyor of cheap tight t-shirts beloved by The Gays. A H&M is a (H)igh (M)aintenance homosexual. You know the type. You go on two dates with them and they’re wedding ring shopping in their lunch hour at Elizabeth Duke. And God forbid you should forget to reply to a text message instantly.

JIN – This isn’t a misspelling of Mother (Mary’s) ruin, gin either. Nor does it refer to an exotic fire spirit of Arabic pre-Islamic mythology. It’s actually a cunning anagram used to describe the pulling criteria of indie-pulling gays like ourselves.

You see, there is such a thing as TOO indie. This, again, is easy to spot. TOO indie types spend a little bit too much of their time thinking about Sleater Kinney B-sides for their own good. They can also look a bit – well – extreme and/or have disappointing stomachs or self-mutilation issues.

Like Goldilocks snaffling the Three Bears’ (snigger) porridge, you need to find a balance. Hence JIN, which stands for


Dougie McFly is, for example, just indie enough, despite really being a pop kid. Yum.

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Right, time to crawl back under that stone where we belong…

From the sublime to the ridiculous

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Kate Bush has announced a new single, King Of The Mountain, and a double album, Aerial, with a release date of 2nd November.

This is Kate’s first album since The Red Shoes which was donkey’s years ago now. How unreasonably excited are we at this? La Bush ranks highly in our mental Top Ten Divas list, and you really don’t want to see the dance/flail we end up doing to Wuthering Heights when it gets played at discos.

We’ve heard a number of unfounded rumours about this album. Apparently: -

1. It’s two separate albums, one of which was recorded ages ago and then shelved.

2. A few years ago Kate asked her record company round to see “what she’d been working on”. They promptly creamed their Diesels (they’re like that in the music biz, dontcha know) and rushed round en-masse for a look. Kate then blithely led them to her kitchen and plonked a tray of cakes down on the table. “This,” she said, “was what she’d been working on”.

3. It’s a double concept album based on the aftermath of an England laid to waste by an alien invasion.

All three rumours point to the enduring aceness of Kate, but they also raise the thorny issue of quality control. Albums that have taken *this* long to produce have a habit of raising expectations only to dash them. We only hope that Kate hasn’t lost the ability to make concept-driven music that works. And let’s face it, who wouldn’t love a cross between the second half of The Hounds Of Love and War Of The Worlds?

We also heard a high-larious rumour about Kate smoking and eating like a trooper when she’s in the studio. Given this album’s lengthy gestation period, it’s only to be hoped she’s not 21 stone and sounding like Barry White.

And now for the ridiculous….

CSI New York the other night (we know, we know) was about amputee fetishists. Ew. Have the writers been reduced to surfing esoteric porn sites for new ways to kill people off?

This is without going into the pee drinking for youthful looks episode we talked about a few weeks back. Some people....