Whoositsmith?

I read that Joe Perry and the rest of Aerosmith are looking for a new lead singer and frontman, due to Steve Tyler's temporary unavailability.

Well, I'm not a huge fan of Aerosmith, but, I like the hits and the big songs like many do. I know who Joe Perry is of course, because he never fails to mention his band.

But I wonder, isn't someone in Aerosmith-land missing the point a bit here? Or is it me.

Eat more chocolate - save Britain!

I don't care who you are and where you're from. Leave Cadbury's alone and concentrate on improving your own chocolate-based products instead of ruining ours, just to make yours seem better.

That'll be Hershey, Kraft and Ferrero then.

First Rowntree, then Terry - now this. Not on my watch, sunshine. We're not dumb, chum.

The Sun Will Shine...At First...

The Master at Work



Check out the "heh-heh-heh" at the end. Top class Hammer-style hamming.

Almost as good as this:


If you can find it on an Anchor Bay DVD for less than a fortune it's well worth it. Peter Cushing at the top of his game, not distracted by having to share the scenes with a special effects Snowman, who is in fact rarely seen. Menacing and crisp - and unspoilt by the breathless hoop-la of later, lamer 'unseen menace' films such as Blair Witch.

One of the best B&W transfers to digital that I've ever seen, and the soundtrack's a honey too.

Leave i /t/ aht.

Irritating Advert Award of 2010 already awarded to Thomas Cook for their "IT" advert.

Not content with overusing the word 'it', they then employ sweetheart Louise Redknapp to glottally stop every 'it' she's go/t/ to say. Seductively languid, it ain'/t/, if that's what you were thinking, advert people. Her husband does a little better, by the way. But not much.

Anyway, besides the suspension of disbelief that normally accompanies any holiday advert, this time we're meant to believe that the Redknapps, several grand lighter, pitch up at Ga/t/wick Sarth, and are then, along with all customers of this most celebrated of service industries, treated like potential mass murdering, smuggling, fanatical pant bombers - to be corralled, pushed, poked, frisked, x-rayed, scanned, examined and caged with hundreds of others, like the villainous animals we all secretly are, before setting off to their fortnight in the sun, jammed into seats little wider than the width of the meal tray, with the back of the seat in front wedged into their throats, courtesy of the Cook Book. They Thomas Cooked I/T/.

And they are deliriously happy abaht it. Maybe grateful as well.

Well, stone me, do wot, who knew, eh?

My knees are aching just thinking abaht it.

If you haven't seen the advert, or even if you have and you want to punish yourself some more, here it is:



God, I'm in a bad mood this decade. Already!