A Lorra Lorra Sour Grapes – Or Simple Truth

I was never a fan of Cilla Black, not even before she absolutely murdered Dinonne Warwick’s song ‘Anyone Who Had A Heart’ and certainly not when she was making a lorra lorrya money by overplayng the Scouse accent and common little slapper from Scottie Road persona while fronting some of the crappiest shows on television.

My wife hated her with a passion however. One night in the 1960s Teri had a ticket to a Dustry Springfield show but on taking her place in the audience learned that Dusty had a sore throat and would be replaced by Cilla.

But though Teri has never forgiven the scouse songcrusher I had nothing against the woman. I did not quite buy into all the eulogies following her death. And it seems I was not alone in the heresy of denying the divinity of St. Cilla

These lovely anecdotes are from Popbitch:

Cilla, The Tough Boss

You may have wondered – what with all the glowing tributes to her immediately after her death – how it could be that someone apparently so cherished and loved could get so little telly work in her later years.

Ageism? Possibly. Changing tastes in light entertainment? Quite probably. But the main reason was that one of the top bods at ITV very determinedly blackballed each and every attempt that Cilla made to get on screen.

Why the personal vendetta? Because the exec in question started out as a runner. On Blind Date.

One early task was to fetch Cilla some salmon sandwiches for her and some guests. The runner got the nicest smoked salmon sarnies they could find. But all they got for their efforts was a bollocking from Cilla in front of her guests as she only liked tinned salmon, not smoked.

Cilla, The Kleptomaniac

As far as celebrity riders go, Cilla Black had one of the most consistent. Wherever she went, she demanded champagne and two glasses. She never left the glasses behind though, she always took them home. A thrifty move, as when she hosted a big party at home she didn’t need to hire glasses because she had a collection of around 300 Granada flutes.

Cilla, The Shopper

Cilla would do most of her weekly shopping at a small grocery store called Fishers in Gerrards Cross. Despite there only being three check-out counters in the tiny store, when Cilla had finished her weekly shop she would, without fail, refuse to line up at an open counter even if there was only one person in front of her.

Instead, she would go and stand in front of one of the unmanned counters until someone opened it up especially for her. True to form, she would never speak to the staff to request it, just stand there staring daggers until someone did so.

Cilla, The Intercity Commuter

When ITV’s flagship daytime programme This Morning was based out of Liverpool, Cilla would make appearances on the show to plug Blind Date or Surprise Surprise.

And why not? It would be easy to get a local girl on, wouldn’t it? Erm, not quite… She would always demand a chauffeur-driven car to bring her up from London on the morning of the show as she didn’t want to be in Liverpool the night before.

Which is fine for a one-off – but a very similar thing happened when she did a panto season in Liverpool.

Cilla, Showbiz Royalty

First off, in the interests of balance, we should say that Cilla did have a couple of friends from the world of old-school showbusiness. (She referred to Christopher Biggins and Paul O’Grady as her ‘good fairy’ and ‘bad fairy’, respectively. Lionel Blair also had a metric ton of eulogy to deliver on the Sunday that news broke.)

However:

You may not know the Patton Brothers, but they are the real-life brothers of the Chuckle Brothers. They have a reputation in the business for being consummate professionals. Unanimously described as being hard-working, mild-mannered and excellently disciplined, they are never anything less than gentlemen and they famously refuse to tell tales on anyone or say anything snide about any of the people they’ve ever worked with.

Except for Cilla Black, that is – for whom they make a special exception. They described her, simply, as being “a cunt”.

BBC and Savile: Phrases like ‘Tip of the iceberg’ come to mind

Boggart Blog has not done a lot on the Jimmy Savile scandal, it seemed everybody else (except the mainstream media and the government’s propaganda ministry national broadcaster, The BBC of course.

It seems we were remiss in bypassing this story and leaving it to others. Two years after first breaking the Savile /BBC paedophile scandal is still making news and still producing new shocks. And I will never forgive myself for commenting to my family, on hearing Rolf Harris was being question, “Not dear old Rolf, he might have had dubious reasons for tying his Kangaroo down but kiddie fiddling, surely not.”

Well its time to play catch up on this aspect of a much bigger scandal that now looks set to have a major influence on the outcome of the General Election in May as ongoing revelations of malfeasance, corruption and cover – up expose how thoroughly rotten and corrupt the establishment is.

We have reported the Westminster Paedophile Ring allegations quite fully so to get readers up to speed on the Jimmy Savile affair, there’s a comprehensive summary to be in The Coleman Report. Here’s a taster:

from The Coleman Experience:

(scroll past a gallery of newspaper front pages to get to the story – and please don’t assume I agree with the writers’ conclusions or political positions, the idea is you look at the information and make up your own mind about how valid it is. I find this works well for most people except those silly scienceheads and university lecturers who have a binary mindset and are incapable of filtering information, thus only being able to believe a thing totally or dismiss it completely)

The BBC And The Paedophile Ring

If you thought for one minute that the BBC is, in anyway, as it appears to be, you’re very sadly mistaken.

Behind the comforting British TV façade, lies a paedophile network ,so vast and sordid it literally beggars belief.

Don’t be fooled into thinking that Jimmy Savile was a lone pervert stalking the broadcast centre.

He wasn’t.

Savile was, in fact, working as a VIP pimp, procuring children to be abused and often murdered, by Royalty, Government and showbiz entertainers.

He managed to hoodwink the British public for over 50 years due to his close links to Prince Philip, the Secret Services and Margaret Thatcher, who were themselves up to their necks in filth of the highest order.

In 2013, reports emerged of a paedophile ring on the set of Eastenders:

Police are investigating allegations of a paedophile ring operating around the set of the popular BBC soap EastEnders.

Police say that former members of the show’s staff may have abused their jobs to groom vulnerable underage youngsters, who flock to the set hoping to catch a glimpse of its stars.

Arrests are said to be imminent, according to the Sun.

“Police are shocked at what they have unearthed,” a source told the tabloid. “Arrests are very likely. This is bigger than anyone imagined. (h/t Ben Pursglove)

RELATED POSTS:

The Public Interest to Protect Powerful Paedophiles
The Director of Public Prosecutions has decided that it would not be in the public interest to prosecute serial paedophile Greville Janner, for many years the leader of the Zionist lobby in the UK. I presume that his convenient senility is the reason for non-prosecution …

The Public Interest to Protect Powerful Paedophiles
The Director of Public Prosecutions has decided that it would not be in the public interest to prosecute serial paedophile Greville Janner, for many years the leader of the Zionist lobby in the UK. I presume that his convenient senility is the reason for non-prosecution …

BBC Democracy Day: Europe ‘faces political earthquakes’
We can’t prove sex with children does them harm’ says Labour-linked NCCL

Schadenfreudefest: Vindicated Again

Having recently take some stick, and even been tagged as a Tory, for my attacks on the hypocrisy and double standards of rich lefties I am wallowing in schadenfreude one more today as news of the involvement in some very dodgy tax avoidance schemes of certain showbiz people who have made a big thing of their left wing, politically correct views.(And it’s not just that smug twat Jimmy Carr so let’s not put up with the whining lefties making him a scapegoat, loads of them have been at it.)

As I blogged in a post a couple of days ago (Confiscate the right’s wealth but not mine says millionaire lefty) those who wring their hands over the plight of the poor or wail and gnash their teeth about the greed of the rich and unfairness of society are not quite so bothered about unfairness or greed when it comes protecting their own rather easy earned cash. In fact they are the first to get their snouts in the trough.

The stink of hypocrisy is often repulsive but when caused by self – righteous leftys wallowing in their own mire it can be remarkably satisfying to the nostrils.

RELATED POSTS:
Stub out that demon ciggy and enjoy a politically correct spliff

Intellectuals Despise The Masses

Old Dogs and New Tricks

A lot of people in the media are expressing puzzlement at the success of creaky copper TV series New Tricks. Why, they ask, when many shiny, glossy new trendy television series with galaxies of up and coming showbiz celebrities, huge budgets and lots of split screens, CGI, SFX, bells and whistles are being cancelled because of poor ratings and negative feedback from viewers does this unpretentious, low budget, lightweight show go from strength to strength?

Could it be that without a big budget for all the geeky shit the producers have to rely on quality scripts, uncomplicated linear plots, strong characters and excellent performances from a cast of vastly experienced and supremely talented actors and Dennis Waterman?

Or could it simply be that as well as acting Dennis “wote de feem toon and things de feem toon?

Who said catchphrases belonged in the twentieth century.

More humour every day from Boggart Blog

Danny Boyle: A Song For Oscar

Let’s celebrate the victory of the British film Slumdog Millionaire by revamping an old song. You all know the tune so these words can be sung as you watch the showbiz extravaganza on television tonight…

Oh Danny Boyle you won the effing Oscar
with your low – budget Slumdog Millionaire.
You beat Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie
You beat them all and never brushed your hair.

Now come ye back and make a British movie
and show the world just how well we can do
with top class scripts and high quality actors.
Big budget blockbusters are just a pile of poo.

More humour every day from Boggart Blog

If Obama goes to Hollywood. Is this the dawning of the cinematic age of Obama asks Pajamas Media. It seems not as the current blockbusters are non PC action movies starring Clint Eastwood and Liam Neeson.

Boggart Blog Awards – Incompetent Bureaucrats, Annoying People and The Dive Of Death

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! 😀

The Boggart Blog Personality of the Year Awards for 2008.

The Incompetent Bureaucrats Of The Year award goes to the Birmingham (West Midlands) City Council environmental awareness squad who sent out a leaflet thanking council tax payers for their support of the rubbish recycling programme (that’s not the programme was rubbish of course, it was about recycling rubbish.) Unfortunately nobody involved in the preparation of the leaflet noticed it showed a picture not of Birmingham (a.k.a. Brummagem,) West Midlands but Birming – Ham, Alabama. Good work there guys, keep it up.

The Crappest Showbiz Stunt Of The Year for 2008 is David Blaine’s Dive Of Death in which the illusionist hung upside down for several minutes at a time in between brew breaks, wee breaks and photo-opportunity breaks in New York’s Central Park. A far more impressive Dive Of Death though it was not unfortunately nominated for the award was the occasion on which Guy Ritchie went down on Madonna and failed to satisfy her. It killed their marriage.

Finally our top award, most pointless celebrity of the year was a closely fought contest between Heather Mills McCartney, Britney Spears, Barack Obama, Joe Swash, Amy Winehouse and Peter Mandleson.

In the end though we gave the award to Paul Burrell simply because we all hate the smug, unctuous, self satisfied git.

That’s all ’til 2009 folks….;D

DON’T FORGET the excellent reading available on our main site Greenteth Multi Media

Hallelujah for Shane McGowan.

I try to avoid switching on the radio these days, if my ears are not assaulted by a rapper repeating the same line over and over while in some forgotten corner of Cambridge University reserved for undead poets Seamus Heaney raves about the poetry of the streets they will be assailed by some screeching soul diva of the Whitney / Mariah genre.

Today however I was pleasantly surprised when I plugged in the blender and the radio came on instead to cheer me up with Fairy Tale Of New York. Now that’s what I call Christmas Music.

I only mention all this because of the continuing kerfuffle over the version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah recorded by XS Factor winner Alexandra Burke, the newest member of the screecherarchy. Alex’s version of H… what, sorry? How could I plug in the blender and hear Fairy Tale Of New York?

Well I suppose I should explain lest you think we live like pikeys.

Some years ago as our children started to make noises about flying the parental nest we decided to downsize. Our old place was like a cross between Hogwarts and a Tardis. A bungalow we though, that’s the thing for a disabled person whose wife hates hoovering stairs. By the time we were sorted child two, Cleo Hart, had gone. Child one, Brother Bastion, went soon after. Bliss. Child two returned bringing an apartment full of stuff.

“You’ll have to put all that in storage” we said. “Don’t be silly,” said child one,” I’m only going to be here for a couple of weeks until I get something sorted out. “I’ll get the furniture in my bedroom and put the kitchen stuff in your kitchen. You can use it then.”

That was nearly three years ago. His stuff has slowly spread out of the bedroom into the rest of the house, his kitchen equipment is still in our kitchen. We have never used it.

Two years ago child two, Cleo Hart, announced she was going to live and work in France.”

“Will you need any help getting all the stuff from your flat over there?” we asked helpfully.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, “my stuff is English, it will never be happy in France. It’s going to live at your house and I’ll get new French stuff. The furniture etc can go in my bedroom (note: not the spare bedroom but ‘my bedroom’) and my cooking things can go in the kitchen.”

We have a lovely kitchen, plenty big enough for a couple and with lots of modern fittings and equipment. We can’t remember the last time we saw it.

And this is how I came to connect a plug near the blender and have an unseen radio start playing.

I digress however, this post was about the X Factor winner’s lousy version of Hallelujah!

The original, is a multi – layered poem, its title is of course an exclamation of religious or orgiastic ecstasy but on another level with lines like “you tied me to a chair” it could be a song about Max Mosely’s sex life.

Squeaky clean Alexandra was not required to sing the song’s dirty – sexy bits, lines like :

There was a time you let me know
what was really going on below
but now you never show it to me
do yah?

Obviously not the right image for one of Simon Cowell’s acts. Another of his proteges was Mr. Blobby you know. Perhaps the song’s bitterness, despairing self pity and sexual innuendo were diluted because they feared another contestant Rachel Hilton might win. Rachel has five children all with different men. Obviously she showed it to far too many people.

More humour every day from Boggart Blog

Iceland Queen’s Meltdown On Television

We intellectuals at Boggart Blog do not normally take much notice of daytime television but my wife drew my attention to This Morning this morning. Snatching the paper from my grasp she said urgently,

“Look at this, look at this, she’s drunk. half past ten in the morning and she’s drunk.”

When Teri gets excited enough to remove my morning paper whatever she is telling me to look at is worth looking at.

What we were seeing was former Atomic Kitten and Queen of the Jungle and a hundred Iceland ads Kerry Katona in a celebrity meltdown to rival that of Heather Mills (on the same show – perhaps I should watch more often)

Presenters Phil Schofield and Fern Britton were valiantly trying to interview the obviously intoxicated z-lister who was slurring her speech, giving rambling, incoherent answers and swooping from telling the presenters she loved them to being threatening and aggressive in the space of one sentence. This would not be difficult for verbose types like fatsally and me but for Kerry who normally converses in sentences of less than one syllable it’s quite an achievement.
Katona was on the show promoting her showbiz comeback after addiction problems and her new book “Whole Again.”

The performance gave me an idea for a regular Boggart Blog feature, or maybe a new realty TV show, Celebrity Train Wreck. Obviously the like of Kerry, Pete Doherty and Amy Winehouse cannot take part, their celebrity vehicles are already derailed and lying at the trackside with their wheels in the air, but there must be plenty of others coming down the track, the needy and talentless who “want it” so much but cannot cope with the demands of fame.

The names Geldof and Peaches spring to mind.

More humour every day from Boggart Blog

An X – Factor secret Revealed

Caught a bit of the X – Factor on television last night (purely for research purposes you understand) and found it was the Michael Jackson special, all the contestants had to sing the music of Michael Jackson. It made for a lousy show of course, Jackson only ever recorded one good song and he ruined that (Billie – Jean; you should hear my son do it Tom Waites style)

So why do a Michael Jackson night? Well we hear from our showbiz correspondent that next week is the Gary Glitter special followed by the Jonathan King extravaganza.

Now we understand why they started letting fourteen year olds enter.

Other thouhghts on child labour

energy crisis