The northlondonhippy

Archive for the ‘tabloids’ Category

Nearly 5 years ago to this very day, I wrote a little something here on the hippy that is one of my favourite posts ever. Back when I had a top-ten favourite list, this particular post was featured prominently.

Its called ASS BOMBS

Don’t worry if you can’t be bothered to re-read it right now, I’ll summarise it for you: I speculated on the lengths future terrorists would have to go through to sneak explosive devices on to planes and the additional security measures that would have to be put in place to maintain safety. This wasn’t long Richard Reid tried to blow up his shoes.

I theorised that a terrorists’ rectum would become a compartment for hiding plastique and airport security screeners would have to play proctologist to make sure all air travellers were not carrying anything up their bottoms. Instead of “take off your shoes and remove all metal objects”, their instruction would be to “bend over and spread those cheeks.”

It would certainly put flying into a brand new perspective. Making sure you wear clean socks without any holes wouldn’t seem so important any more.

It turns out, I was partially right. An alleged Al Qaeda fanatic tried to blow up officials at a meeting in Saudi Arabia with some TNT shoved up his ass, only the idiot left it stuck up there when it detonated and it only killed the bomber. You’re supposed to take it out of your bottom before it goes off.

You can read the report here in The Sun newspaper, under their clever headline; “Suicide Bummer”. Did you see what they did there?

Its unlikely as fuck that Al Qaeda visit my website, so they probably worked this one out on their own. Now that this frightening and icky technique is out there, how long before airports implement new security procedures? Not long is my guess.

Still, there’s an upside. If you’re going to have to display your ringpiece in airports for all to see, anal bleaching is set to be the next big growth industry. They’ll even have a new slogan: “Anal Bleaching…its not just for porn stars any more!”

As many of you who follow my blog know, I usually hate other people’s blogs, but recently I’ve discovered one I quite like.

You all should check out trannyfattyacid.blogspot.com

I’ve been reading this blog for a few weeks now and I’m very impressed with the standard and quality of the material posted there. The author spends a lot of time researching his subjects and checking his facts; more so than most of the newspapers I read daily and you know I read nearly all of ‘em!

What drew me into the TFA blog were his posts about the disappearance of Madeleine McCann.

I expect there aren’t many people left on the planet who haven’t heard the tale of the little British girl who went missing in Portugal last May. And that’s just about the only fact surrounding this case that anyone can agree on…that this little girl disappeared.

The circumstances of Madeleine’s disappearance, however are entirely another matter and opinions and recollections differ on this wildly.

The Portuguese police believe that little Maddy died in her parents’ holiday apartment that night, while her parents would like us to believe she was kidnapped by a stranger.

I didn’t like the parents from the get-go. I thought their explanations for leaving three very young children alone in their room every night, while they dined were lame and self-serving. I don’t have kids, but if I did, I would never, ever think of leaving them unattended, especially in a hotel room, in a strange country! Back in June, this was my opinion and I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been charged with willful neglect of their children.

As the summer went on, and they were paraded daily for photo-ops in front of the world’s media, visiting the pope and touring the globe, their holier than thou attitude really started to piss me off. Also, I had been considering the possibility of their involvement, prior to them being named as official suspects in their daughter disappearance.

I debated writing about the case here and had to restrain myself from doing so on several occasions. Its not really appropriate material for my blog and I doubt any of you would disagree.

Instead, I channelled my interest in the case to other online outlets, specifically the Mirror newspaper forums, where up until recently, views and information on the case were freely shared and expressed. They’ve since cracked down on what people post and it is far less free than it was a week ago.

One of my discoveries on the Mirror Forums was the TFA blog. He writes extensively on the McCann case and is far more informative, factually accurate and balanced on the subject than the national newspapers. I’ve recommended his blog to a few people I know and they’ve also liked it, so I decided to big TFA up here on my site.

It’s not often I recommend blogs, I think this is only the 2nd one I’ve endorsed since I started blogging, the first being the rather excellent Post Secret blog. I know your surfing time is valuable, but check out TFA’s blog. If you’re interested in Madeleine McCann, it’s an excellent place to get the real story that the mainstream media is ignoring.

The question we should all be asking is: “why is the MSM so unbalanced when it comes to the McCanns?” I wish I had the answer for you, but I’m in the dark on this one too.

I get confused, sometimes, by all the different, conflicting bits of information offered to me on any given day.

I try to disregard as much of it as I can, but when it comes to the battle over cannabis, my ears prick up, which is markedly better than a prick up your ear.

The current lies being peddled about weed must be confusing to a lot of folks out there. The powers that be are not-so-subtly working hard to shift public perception. They want you to think marijuana is the devil’s weed; that it will turn your children in psychotic killers who are only concerned with where their next fix of dope is coming from.

This portrayal couldn’t be any further from the truth if they tried. Oh wait, they are trying and they are not in remote proximity of even a reflection in a puddle of piss of truth.

Yet, the newspaper headlines scream with outrageous anger and hyperbole over the dangers of cannabis.

Headlines can be wrong. Frequently, they are. It’s easier to parrot some make believe fact, if that fictitious fact creates fear and moral indignation.

Here’s something you won’t be reading in any respectable newspaper, any time soon. A recent study carried out by a respected Dutch university, compared the teenage brains via MRI scans of two groups of teenagers; group A were regular weed smokers, group B never touched the stuff.

Guess what? There was no discernible difference in the results, between the two groups. Or as it says in the headline of the article I’m quoting, “Cannabis not dangerous for young people”.

Could you imagine the front page of the Daily Mail or the Independent on Sunday splashing the same headline across their front page? Neither can I, but a hippy can dream and this hippy does. Far too much.

This is the first year in the history of Big Brother that I’m not feeling withdrawal after the series ended. I wasn’t as attached to the housemates as I have been in previous years. I wasn’t as attached to the entire programme. I’m not really sure why.

Sorry I haven’t been quite as prolific as I could have been on the topic of BB. I did continue to watch faithfully though and now that it’s finished, I thought I would share my final thoughts.

For me, Big Brother 8 was the most manufactured, self-aware series so far. The format has been around too long for it to be any other way. We all know what to expect, from the viewers to the contestants, which means the program makers have to work that much harder to confound our collective expectations.

This year, there were a lot of confounded expectations.

“Fake Week” was a prime example of this as the producers twisted everything up into all sorts of pointless frivolity.

Except it wasn’t pointless, was it? It amused us. Ok, it amused me.

A lot this year amused me, it seems like the theme of “fun” really did weave itself through the series. Some of the fun was cruel and if I was on the receiving end of the cruelty, I would have a different view of it.

Showing the Halfway-Housemates the entirety of nominations was a masterstroke of nastiness. Revealing nominations in general inside the house is cruel, but there was a level of evil in this particular move that surprised even me.

The quiz in the final week was also quite mean, as BB showed each housemate something both embarrassing and private as part of the task.

All of this self-referential stuff is sending everyone a message: Nothing is off limits, inside the house. Anything you say or do could potentially be used to upset your standing in the house. In future, contestants might be more careful and guarded about what the say in their private chats or even the diary room!

As much as I don’t want to admit it, Charley was the star of the show this year and it was less entertaining after her departure. Or rather, there was far less conflict in the house which I equate with entertainment. Charley’s problem will be converting this into some sort of media career. Good luck to her, but I think she’s a bit of one-trick-pony and they will struggle to find suitable vehicles for her.

Chanelle’s departure also left a gap in my viewing. Aside from being nice to look at, her tantrums were pure comedy gold. They say she’s made £750,000 already, which is astounding. Now that Ziggy’s out too, I expect they will both clean up even more. I sure hope they got a lot of money for their rather embarrassing photo-shoot in the Star on Monday. If you didn’t see it, they were both posing together, in their undies, in a hotel bed. Cringe!

Poor Ziggy. I liked him. He isn’t a bad guy; he’s just very neurotic. He genuinely fancied Chanelle, it wasn’t just for the cameras. He easily had the roughest ride of anyone in the house this year and doesn’t deserve our scorn. We should all chip in a fiver each, so we can pay for his long-term Jungian analysis, which after a couple of decades might get to the root of his neurosis. Until then, he’ll just have to make do with shagging Chanelle and making money off their celeb-value.

I was glad to see Brian Belo win. He’s the Essex version of Forrest Gump and people always go for the thick-o. Except I don’t think Brian is that thick, he’s just not educated well. He’s your typical English lad and probably the world’s biggest BB fan! I think its great that a proper fan won the show, instead of someone who claimed not to really watch it much. Well done, Brian.

I was actually expecting a twinny-win, as Sam and Amanda are just so likeable. They didn’t put a foot wrong in the house which explains why they didn’t have a single nomination throughout the series.

I was glad to see Tracey go a week before the final and I’m even happier I’ll never have to hear her inane catchphrases ever again. She was like a character from a bad novel written about reality tv; a poorly sketched caricature consisting of one shallow dimension. Yawn.

As for the rest, well they’re all pretty inconsequential really. The one I liked the most that I thought should have had more time in the house is Amy. Aside from being a tasty bit of eye candy, Amy seemed bright and genuine. She should never have become such a figure of hate within the house and if she had better taste in men and ignored Liam, she might have gone further.

The one thing I noticed this year was the number of people who I’ve spoken with who have taken great pride in proclaiming that they haven’t watched BB this year and that BB was a failing, dying format. It was as if people decided they were too good for it this year. How wrong they are!

BB continues to be annual event television, filling Channel 4’s coffers with loads of dosh. The ratings were down this year, but the programme continues to deliver the right demographic that advertisers love and in the younger age groups, interest remains very high. Maybe I just only talk to aging media-types. I need to get some cooler, younger new friends!

And if there were any doubts over the future of the next series of BB, Davina promptly put them to rest last Friday night, when she opened the audition call for BB9. If you want to spend next Summer inside the BB house, be ready to dazzle the BB producers, starting in November. Good Luck!

I do want to thank all 23 housemates who spent time in the house this year. One way or another, each of you entertained me in your own special ways and for this I am grateful. And thank you to my hippyfans, who have put up with my sporadic output and stuck with me for my thoughts on BB.

This will be my last formal BB column, I’m not going to do it again next year. I won’t say I’m never going to comment on BB again, but I won’t be doing it in such an organised way. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it all as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

But fear not, this hippy still has plenty of other interesting things to bring you, so don’t be a stranger, OK?

Yes. Yes, I am.

I haven’t stopped watching it. I just haven’t written about it in a while. I’m a bad hippy and deserve a spanking, but don’t get any funny ideas about sending Jonty ‘round to do the honours. This hippy don’t play that way.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a little bit of light spanking, I would just prefer that it were Channelle administering my much deserved punishment. As if she would even look in my general direction while having one of her infamous strops, let alone smack my ass for all she was worth!

Ah-hem.

The residents of the house have certainly changed since last I commented on it. We’ve had a fake housemate, we’ve seen Channelle walk and Charley evicted, twice! We’ve also got five new best-friends, though after tonight, there will be possibly two less of them.

It seems to this more than casual observer of BB, that the producers have had some clever gimmick up their sleeves every week of this run. A lot of it has been entertaining and amusing, but all of it is feeling somewhat manufactured. I guess that’s what the format has become, after so many years of it. It’s had to change and evolve, to keep us all watching.

I’d watch anyway, but then I’d watch paint dry, if it was smeared all over a dozen complete strangers!

It’s been a weird series for me, I haven’t really warmed to any of them, but then I don’t really hate any of them either. My reaction to them is as bland as a conversation with the twins.

I find Gerry nice, but too whiny and moany. I like Carole, but she doesn’t really shine either. The twins are cute, in a very immature way. I could go on, but you get the idea.

I bought the Ziggy and Channelle relationship completely. No one would put themselves through that much angst and bullshit, if they didn’t really have feelings for each other.

I disagree with all of you who think Ziggy was using her. No, I don’t think she was the love of his life, but I think his intentions were genuine. He liked her; he would have dated her properly outside the house if he could have. He couldn’t, instead he had to live with her for 2 intensive months.

Chanelle liked Ziggy too, but I go back to what I said before. She’s the sort of girl who always has a boyfriend, and to her it’s like a cast change in a play. A lot of the shit she was taking out on Ziggy was more than likely baggage from previous relationships, redirected at him.

In real terms, a two-month relationship in the house is probably equivalent to a full year in the real world. It would be more intense then you could ever imagine. I don’t envy either one of them, not even the sex. I can’t see a self-conscious shag under a duvet and the gaze of a dozen cameras can be very satisfying. I’ll never, ever know.

I was glad to see Charley go, I think she outlasted her usefulness. She was amusing to watch at first, but her shtick grew old and tired, fast. How can someone be like that, with everyone, all the time? It’s just so unpleasant. Would you spend time with someone who behaved like Charley? I wouldn’t, unless I was empowered with the right to deliver a well placed backhand to the chops, when it all got too much.

Bye, bye, Charley. It’s back to obscurity for you. Channelle’s well-timed walk has stolen your week and your thunder, at least if the tabloids are any measure. Oh wait, they are.

I enjoyed fake week, which I realise must seem like ages ago now. Thalia/Pauline was hot, the tasks were amusing and I loved how wound up they all got by the misinformation. The plane with the banner about the other house was great!

I was impressed that Carole seemed to see right through each and every one of BB”s tricks that week. She’s a sharp one, sometimes.

I can’t say I’m blown away by the halfway housemates and the twists that followed, especially since it’s ended up with three of them back where they started, ready to be booted out the door. I think mainly, it was the apparent randomness of the final twist, sending Ziggy, Liam, Amy and Jonty into the main house that ruined it for me. There was no drama, no sense of the unexpected, it was just down to a whim of the producers.

Maybe this whim was pre-planned, but it had the feeling of damage control. “Oh, shit, we can’t lose Ziggy or Liam, and the Jonty guy would be a waste if he left without a spanking. And if we’re going to keep Liam, we might as well keep Amy too, so he can have a sexy, buxom, canny lass to play with…”

You get the idea.

They’re willing to risk Tracey, but she doesn’t really bring that much to the show anyway, so it’s a calculated risk. Near as I can tell, as it’s a double eviction tonight, she’s vulnerable, so we could still see some drama and real tears.

David is a gonner tonight, people have taken an instant dislike to him and his giant, overconfident ego. Only Gerry will be disappointed to see him leave, but he didn’t have a hope in pulling him, so its probably for the best.

The other evictee will be either Shanessa or Tracey. I’d rather see Shanessa stay, as she is real comedy gold and car-crash TV at it’s finest. I’ve never been a Tracey fan, though I should be because we both like to get off our faces. I find her dull and her repetition of those innane catch phrases just doesn’t float this hippy’s boat. I might even feel the need to cast a few votes myself.

The real question is, what happens to the two people left in the halfway house? Do they move into the main house? Do the two leaving tonight get to choose a 3rd to come with them, live with Davina?

How the hell should I know? I’m sitting here on my sofa, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, watching it myself, just like the rest of you!

There’s only a month left, so I guess we’re around two-thirds of the way gone. Anything can happen and it’s not 100% that Brian is going to win. It would be cool if he did, because he always makes me laugh.

Hands up if you’ve ever thought about being a housemate on Big Brother…

Go on, admit it, you’ve wondered what it would be like to be a contestant on BB. You’ve considered how you would deal with the situations. You’ve started a sentence with “Well, if I was in the house…”

I have too. Only, there is no way in hell I would actually contemplate auditioning for the programme. No way. I don’t want that sort of attention; I don’t want the press on my ass. I don’t want to ever be famous.

Except, of course, here on the internet.

As much as we may all imagine living in that little multicoloured house in Elstree, in reality we don’t have a clue what its like to be trapped in that camera-coated pressure cooker, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for a potential 13 weeks.

It all sounds beyond horrible to me.

Yet, I sit here, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, watching the highlights show, not believing what I’m seeing and thinking, “well, if I was in the house, I would never say/do/touch/eat…”; to whatever I was reacting to at the moment.

Talk about bullshit!

The truth is most of us would come apart at the seams under that sort of pressure and scrutiny. I also think a great number of us wouldn’t get beyond the psychological screening and I’d put myself in that group too. I’d crumble like a rag doll in days; or worse, snap, in a big, bad scary way by snapping a few annoying necks with a swift, deft, unexpected jerk of my arm.

I’m not fucking joking!

You wouldn’t want to see me in the house, anyway. Limited cigarettes, no dope, potentially naked and/or erect plus homicidal? Let’s leave all that to your furtive imaginations and not mine, because it is all far too foul for me to contemplate.

Please try to remember, we’re not in there. They are. We don’t know what it’s like for them, because we’ve never been in an environment like that.

But then, again, we don’t know any of them that well either.

We’ve got to be around day 21 now, which means we’ve really only had 19 days of highlights programmes (day 20 should be tonight – Tuesday).

If you’re like me, you watch the prime time, Channel 4 daily highlights programme. Its where I get most of my BB info because it is the official record of that day as put together by the producers.

To date, I’ve seen 19 evening highlights programmes, less 3 Friday night evictions shows and the Weds – £100,000 special. That means I’ve actually seen 16 normal highlight shows, 3 Friday night ½ hour/ one hour combos, and the one hour Weds big-money extravaganza.

Here comes the science:

16 highlights x 45 mins = 720
3 Fridays x 45 mins = 135
1 x Weds x 23 mins = 23
Total = 878 minutes

(all times are less commercials, Friday and Weds timings also allow for live interviews and Davina links, as well as adverts)

I can’t be bothered to work out the average number of people in the house over the course of those days, so I am going to pull a number out of my ass: 13.5 housemates on average per day over 19 days. If someone wants to be more accurate, I welcome your correction.

If we divide the number of minutes of actual house coverage by the number of average housemates, we come up with the average number of minutes we’ve seen of each housemate since the series started.

65 minutes.

That’s how much time, on average we have seen each housemate featured.

If you really think about it, the Ziggy/Chanelle romance tips the scales heavily in their favour, thus reducing the average for other housemates.

And if you then add Charley to the mix with the amount of screen time her tirades take up, you discover just how little you really know most of them.

Don’t worry, I’ll return to Charley shortly, but first I want to mention a couple of the nearly invisible people.

Wangers.

I just like the word. It makes me laugh. Say it out loud; it will make you laugh too.

Wangers.

Unfortunately for all of us, the person who owns that nickname isn’t as amusing. I can’t be the only one who finds her a complete misery guts? She never has anything nice to say about anything or anyone. She’s one big, blimp-chested bummer, man.

Maybe that’s just the bits they’re showing, maybe the footage of her turning cartwheels and telling funny stories is strewn across the (virtual) cutting room floor? Maybe, she’s the real entertainer of the house and they are hiding it away with the editing?

Nah!

And speaking of non-entities, how about Tracey?

Tracey features in the highlights so infrequently that one night I actually started to wonder if she quietly went out the backdoor and I somehow missed it. I’m not joking!

“Bring it on”.

“Well up for it”.

“Deal with it”

“’ave it”.

I’ve just saved you the trouble of watching her best bits, because they are her only bits!

For fuck’s sake woman! Do something!

I don’t think Tracey is stupid, I actually think she’s trying to be clever. She’s put a lot of thought into her behaviour in the house and arrived with a very simple game plan.

Tracey’s aim is to stay off everyone’s radar and coast as close to the final as she get, possibly even reaching it. And then, once that final hurdle is in sight, we’ll finally get to see a more life-like version of the real Tracey, though again filtered through her long-term game plan.

If Tracey can pull this off, it will be impressive, but I think there’s a good chance the rest of them are going to get sick of the catchphrases and she’ll be nominated again soon.

I think one of the weirdest aspects of this year’s series is the total lack of groups. In this house, it’s every man and woman for himself!

They all have allies and enemies, but it is far from tribal. Each and every one of them has a different friends and enemies list, with overlaps happening all over the place.

Zak and Chanelle are the closest to any sort of real allegiance at the moment, even if only based upon lust and yet they typify this weird dynamic. They both have different people they like and different people they hate and neither one of them really blinks any eye at the other over this.

Ok, Ziggy’s reaction to the Billi/Chanelle rumours not withstanding, but I think we’d all agree that romantic jealousy should be an exception to the hypothesis. The green-eyed monster can only fuck you up!

The best example of this “every man for yourself” phenomenon is Charley. See, I told you I’d come back to her.

Charley will claim to love each and every one of them, while telling them that that, “she’s not being funny, right, but…” insert insulting, profanity-laden shrieks at anyone else.

Charley is nice to people when it suits her and horrible to them when it amuses her. Just look at how she enjoyed humiliating poor Brian when he showed her his erection, which she knew she inspired. Then, commenting on his maybe-wank, with gleeful spite, while knowing the guy is 18 years old and her dirty, suggestive talk got his hopes up. Urghhh!

Or worse, taking the piss out of him because he pissed the bed. Not nice!

And by the way, can Brian really be that stupid? I can’t imagine anyone over the age of, oh I don’t know, birth…not knowing who Romeo, Juliette or Shakespeare is!

Was he putting it on? Was it an act, meant to make him popular?

If it was an act, it didn’t work.

If it was genuine, then oh my god, the future is fucked! Thankfully, climate change and global warming will mean that it won’t matter how stupid tomorrow’s generation is, because they’ll all be too busy killing each other over the last few drops of drinking water.

Ah, happy days.

The reason I’ve titled this abortion of a BB column “The Charlie Show” is simple, that’s what I’ve been watching.

You’ve been watching it too, only I bet you’re reluctant to admit it.

I was the same, but then I thought about how little we actually see and how much she dominates everything. I don’t like her, but I like watching her.

Think about it.

Really, take a moment, and ponder what I am submitting for your consideration.

Charley has been the star of the show. She’s the wannabe it-girl, you love to hate!

Check out my friends, the tabloid newspapers. She features prominently almost every damn day. The red tops are usually a good barometer for public opinion and on that basis, we are all enjoying watching Charley. We just wouldn’t want to invite her ‘round for a cup of tea.

That’s so cool with me.

The kind of people I’d invite over for a cuppa (wink – you know what *I* really – an exotic ciggy), are not the kind of people I’d want to watch on BB. My mates are all fairly well adjusted, sorted, normal types.

You know, like me!

Ha!

I think there’s a very good chance our girl, Charley, is going to be up for eviction this week and dammit all to hell, its too soon for her to go!

It’s week three and there are ten more weeks remaining. It is way too early for Charley to go. I’m not saying she has to win; I’m not even saying she has to make the final, but for the love of god, can we please not be stupid and vote her out too early?

Please?

PLEASE?

We’ve made this mistake in previous series, getting rid of the mad, crazy, (un)likeable ones first, only to complain it’s become boring a week or two later. Let’s just avoid this scenario, ok?

There will be other chances to get rid of Charley, I promise you.

Let’s all agree to leave Charley alone this week.

I will, if you will?

I inadvertently hit upon something in my last BB piece, which is indicative of the casting of the entire series. The more I’ve watched, the more this fact has stood out:

Everyone in there is very media savvy; they are very aware of the process and the part they are playing in it.

My first clue to this was when Emily Parr mentioned several corporate brand names, right after her racist slip of the tongue. She was hoping that they would dip the sound and spare her further embarrassment – well, we all know how that turned out!

The point is, Emily was very hip to the game, even if she was too pig ignorant to apply her knowledge with any great effect. Emily’s not the only one.

Let’s take everyone’s favourite housemate…to hate, young Charley Uchea. She’s apparently worked a pole dancer, that’s a form of entertainer; she had to deal with pubic, er public attention. I’m sure she knows what pole dancing audience wants to see. She’s also got a cousin who plays Premiership football, hangs out in all the “hot clubs” and has had sex with other “celebs”, at least that’s what the papers say. She’s more clued up than you might realise at first and she knows how to use it all to her advantage. If it wasn’t for her sour face and ugly personality, she might be a threat!

First evictee, Shabnam Paryani is another great example of this media awareness. On day 3, when she was considering a walk out the back door, did she ask about how quickly she could see her family? Did she ask if there would be mental health support? Did she even ask if she could have a hot meal once she got outside? Nope, all she was interested in was her “package”. No, that is not some vague reference to the rumour that Shabs is a pre-op transsexual. Shabnam wanted to know if she could still sell her story to a tabloid or glossy magazine. She wanted to know if she would get to appear on BBLB and BBBM. She wanted to know if her bra and knickers pics would be in a Sunday tabloid newspaper, with revelations of her secret love sessions with men AND women.

Shabnam didn’t walk, but her desire to disclose her sexual history while posing in her undies did appear in yesterday’s News of the World. So you see girls, being stupid and doing nothing doesn’t mean you can’t have your dreams come true! Who needs an education or skills?

And while I’m on the scary subject of Shabs, how about that ass-crack of an eviction routine! If that didn’t confirm how subnormally intelligent she is, what else would? How about the shrink on Sunday’s BBLB telling Dermot that her IQ was under 70? Yikes!

Yes, I know I’m being harsh, but that’s my point. Those who live by the media, die by the media and I should know, because I’m the media whore you all love to adore! But you won’t see me skulking around Boujis hoping to get papped!

This is by far the most self-aware group of housemates ever. They know the fourth wall is there and they are playing to it with reckless abandon, because they know if they can paint the right picture of themselves to the outside world, great riches await.

I’ll just throw some random observations out there, haphazardly drawn together from my own personal media monitoring:

- Seány O’Kane – travelled to the states to follow the Michael Jackson trial, was interviewed repeatedly by British TV crews, as the lone, crazy from back home, Reportedly auditioned for Bad Lad’s Army, was rejected for not being “mentally stable” enough.

- Shabnam Paryani – Appeared on Britain’s Got (no) Talent and some programme about embarrassing illnesses.

- Billi Bhatti – one of the new guys, a model who has done print work and, if what I read on forums is true, snogged a transsexual in a music video. Does anyone know if it was Shabnam?

- Jonathan Durden – millionaire, media company-owner and former commentator for the Guardian on advertising. Sound like a real media insider to me. What’s he doing in the house? Ladies and gentlemen, start your conspiracy theories!

- Chanelle Hayes – a posh spice look-a-like, making personal appearances as Victoria Beckham.

- Zak “Ziggy” Lichman – former boyband member, model and music producer.

I could go on, and on and frequently do, but you get the idea. This year, it is an open secret that fame and fortune is what they all crave. They all think that just on their looks and personality alone, we should love them and give them lots of money and adoration, but we know better.

I like the fact that they are all unashamed, wannabes. It brings an element of honesty to BB this year that we’ve not seen before. It’s a knowing wink from the producers, that they know that we know that the housemates know just what is awaiting them after a stay in that house.

In the first series, winner Craig Phillips wanted to win the seventy grand so he could pay for an operation for a young woman with Down’s Syndrome, which at the time, moved most of us to tears. Craig’s generosity was touching and genuine.

In this series, they all want to win so bad they can taste it. Then they’ll have the money to shop for clothing and sunglasses, so they can look nice on holiday in the Maldives where they get snapped, sunbathing topless “in the secret photos they didn’t want you to see”, which paid for the trip, plus a little extra for a pair or two of Manolo Blahniks.

Isn’t that what we all dream of?

I was really expecting not to like this year’s BB. I’d already set myself up for bitter disappointment at what was going to be a dull series. So far, it’s been anything but dull and I’m loving it, already!

It doesn’t take much to draw me in; just a bunch of fit, but stupid young girlies and other assorted human oddities, a small, enclosed space and lots of cameras. I’m a sucker, what can I say?

There were rumours of an all-female house, but I didn’t buy into them. I thought it was a risk the production team wouldn’t be willing to take. How wrong was I?

As I watched the housemates entering the shiny new house, for the first time, I felt pity for many of them. They all just seemed so small, so limited and so myopic with their simple goals of fame and fortune, for doing sweet FA. The best example of this is 19 year old Chanelle Hayes, the Posh Spice wannabe.

Chanelle comes from a small village outside Leeds and literally aspires to be Victoria Beckman. I find that very sad, for as role models go, VB certainly shouldn’t be one, unless you value stupidity, vanity and under-eating to nearly starvation as something to be celebrated. Apparently, the newspapers do, for this if the woman some much as farts (as if!), it is splattered on the front pages.

Chanelle is much better looking than ol’ Posh Pishface and can probably sing better too.

The first thing I thought when I saw the initial 11 women in the house is that there wouldn’t be enough Page 3’s to go around. Most of them are going to want to don a thong, fold their arms artistically across their as-of-yet un-surgically enhanced bosoms and smile pretty for the cameras, with an accompanying interview detailing their Big Brother hell! Ok, maybe not Carole, but then again you never know.

Carole Vincent was an early favourite of mine, with her left leaning politics and bisexuality, what was not to love? But has she put any creepy moves on any of the other women? Has she done anything other than clean the house and act as a servant to the rest of them? Big disappointment so far, but it is early days.

And speaking of crotchety old broads, how about that Lesley Brain, appropriately named because of her enormous intellect. She really fancied herself as so much better than the rest of her housemates. She’s used to get her own way, and walking all over anyone who impeded her. I can’t say I was disappointed when she walked out on Saturday. Small loss, she didn’t contribute much more than snarky comments and disapproving looks. Yawn.

The twins, Sam and Amanda Archant, fall into the pity category. They’re ever so cute and ever so dim, but their Page 3 photoshoot will be a double-spread. Everyone will buy a copy of whatever redtop is lucky enough to print the pics that day!

And staying with the pity party, may I draw your attention to the deluded Shabnam Paryani, who won’t be appearing on Page 3 anytime soon, though in her mind she is worthy of that, and more. She’s weird looking, obnoxious and thick, which makes her a triple threat in BB terms. If the eviction hadn’t been cancelled, she’d be making a public appearance right now at the opening of a Pound Shop on my High Street.

And speaking of cancelled evictions, I couldn’t believe the bloody stupidity of that ultra-dim Emily Parr. She was destined for Page 3, but not anymore, unless the BNP newsletter has such a feature. I wouldn’t know, I don’t subscribe and neither do you, if you’re a proper hippyfan!

What was Emily thinking? Was she even thinking? Did she really know what the word meant as it passed through her lips?

I bet she sure as shit does now! This is girl who thinks indy music is brand new and sweeping the nation! She has the mental age of 7.

But Emily wasn’t completely stupid, as right after she uttered the offending word, she quickly mentioned several corporate brand names. Why? So they would dip the sound on the live feed? Clever, eh? She might not know anything about race relations, but damn, if she ain’t media savvy! Shame it wasn’t enough to keep it out of the prime time highlight show or keep her in the house, but you can’t blame a gal for trying!

Were they right to boot her out? After Shilpa-gate, they didn’t really have a choice. They had to be seen to be doing something, and swiftly. If they acted this quickly last January with Shilpa and the witches’ coven, they wouldn’t be apologising so much right now!

And who are the 900 people who complained that it was unfair to eject Emily? She can’t have that many friends and family members!

Emily was an aspiring actress and I said “was” intentionally. With that one word uttered foolishlyy, she’s pretty much kissed her glittering showbiz career goodbye. I don’t see how she can rehabilitate herself back from this one.

Sorry, Emily, I’m sure you’ll Google your way to this page eventually. That’s my considered opinion, but remember it’s never too late to learn IT and computer networking skills! You’ll never go hungry!

I know I mentioned Chanelle earlier, but I want to come back to her. Along with Nicky Maxwell, Chanelle has a good backstory; they both do. Nicky was raised in Mother Theresa’s orphanage in India, before being adopted by a family here in the UK. Chanelle’s mother was a prostitute who was murdered and has also been adopted. I’m a sucker for a sob story, so are the tabloids. Only, and trust me on this, the tabloids provide a lot in the way of lurid details than I will.

Charley Uchea is a nasty piece of work. She’s the sort of girl your mother would have warned you about, if your mother could have ever imagined that such a woman even existed! My mother could never have pictured Charley!

Hot body, ugly face, even uglier personality! Another BB triple threat. Buy her a drink? She’d want the bottle, and trust me mate, it wouldn’t be cheap! Her cousin plays football, that’s why she’s special. Page 3 chances: High, high, high!

Wangers.

Wangers?

When I was a kid, “wang” was another word for your dinkle, so wangers is a new one on me. I’m old, I don’t always keep up with the lingo you kids are using these days.

Whatever happened to tits?

Laura Williams, AKA “Wangers” has ginormus breasts and a Welsh accent. She wants to be a funeral director, which is code for undertaker, which is further code for people who prepare the dead. Yuck. I don’t even like to touch raw beef or pork!

I don’t really get Laura, but apparently you all do, as up until the 2 new guys went in, she was the bookies’ favourite to win!

Tracey Barnard scares me. She’s the sort of intense person who would corner you at a party, get really in your face and spout her passionate opinions on one subject or an other for an hour or more and at the end of it, you still wouldn’t know what she was talking about. Tracey is a type we’ve not seen before in BB (unless you count Bez from the celeb version), but a type none the less. Go on any demo, attend any illegal rave, or visit your nearest squat and you’ll find a Tracey-type, boring he shite out of someone.

You’d think an old hippy like me would like Tracey; you’d be wrong. I did like the rumour they were testing her rolling papers for drugs, but that’s stupid. If she were going to smuggle in some blotter acid, she wouldn’t do it on the cigarette papers, but on the packet – probably the flap – you know the bit you tear to make a roach! It’s made of cardboard and far more absorbent. I just hope she does something fun with it, like put it in the stew, so they can all trip their nuts off.

If only Tracey brought in some dull, rusty knives, then my BB dreams would really come true. Click HERE and/or HERE to see what I mean!

That’s the girls all well and truly slagged off, now what about the guys?

Former boyband member and male model, Zak “Ziggy” Lichman seems nice enough, in an innocuous, inoffensive way. He’s dull, but the chicks dig him and isn’t that what really matters. They deserve some eye-candy too. And I don’t blame him for zeroing in on Chanelle, she is the hottest little hotty in the house!

Big Brother’s big twist when they put in the next two men was to send him a pair of gay guys. Whoa! What a turn! Gay men on BB, who’d have thunk it?

I haven’t really seen much of either one of them, so I will save my initial impressions until my next post.

I don’t hate everything about this series, there are things I do like, they just don’t happen to be the housemates, that’s all.

I like the new house, I think the design is fantastic. I love the colours, the layout, especially the little entranceway to the diary room, with the colour-changing light strips. I like the new graphics and the eye as well.

Mainly, I still love the format, even with the twists and changes. Locking people up in a small, confined space and filming their every move is still pure, unadulterated genius.

I only wish it was my idea; then I would be filthy, stinking rich! I bet that’s a good thing to be. I’ll probably never know.

I’m pissed off today.

I’m pissed off most days, if I’m really honest, so to be more precise I’m particularly pissed off at a certain newspaper for their embarrassing and pointless policy shift against cannabis.

Yes, “The Independent on Sunday” newspaper, I’m talking about you!

For two successive Sundays, the IoS ran scare-mongering, anti-cannabis stories on their front page, which were filled with mindless hysteria rather than actual, factual reporting. I expected so much more from this newspaper and I am so disappointed by the collective weak will of their senior editorial staff that I could cry 96 tears. Cry, cry, cry, cry, 96 tears!

Ten years ago, the Indy called for the legalisation of weed, which is a wise and informed position to take but that all changed when they apologised for doing this, a couple of weeks ago on the front page. They say that they have revised their policy following all the recent “evidence” surrounding the dangers of dope.

The Indy then goes on to recount the story of a young man who killed himself, according to his grieving mother, as a result of his abuse of the demon weed.

I won’t be providing a link here, as I do not want to promote this newspaper in any shape, manner or form, but I am sure with a little clever surfing you could find it yourself.

It is quite a harrowing read and while I am sympathetic to the woman for her loss, I can’t help thinking that they left quite a few important details out of the story.

The mother says her son had suffered from mental problems, which would imply that more than likely that he received psychiatric care and treatment. In reality, treatment would be a big, fat prescription for anti-depressants.

Anti-depressants have a documented history of causing teenage suicides. Was her son taking them? Did he suddenly stop taking them, cold turkey? It would be good to know!

Perhaps he had emotional troubles before he started puffing on spliffs and he only sought out cannabis as a means to self-medicate and lessen his mental anguish. He wouldn’t be the first.

Maybe his psychological woes were so bad, that no amount of treatment could have prevented him from taking his own life. It happens.

And, gasp, you’re not supposed to say this, but what if his mother was just a lousy parent?

I’m not saying she was and by all indications, it doesn’t seem like it, but we’ll never, ever know. I’m sure her son would have had an interesting take on the question and it is a fair one to pose.

It’s so much easier to blame the weed, rather than anything else! It’s the lazy, coward’s excuse.

Let’s go back in time, to my own troubled teenage years. My parents were ill equipped to deal with me, they were older than most, by a generation and out of touch with modern life. My family was dysfunction, especially my extended family, on both sides. I was way too smart for my own good and probably too sensitive as well. I suffered from deep, teenage depression of the fairly normal, morose variety.

My parents did what any self-respecting, slightly affluent, upper-middle-class family with health insurance was expected to do; they packed me off to a shrink.

I didn’t need a shrink, but I thought, what the fuck! Maybe someone would listen to me for a change! I went, every week, for a couple of years.

Around half way through my stint with the Dr. Headshrinker, my parents discovered I was smoking weed in my bedroom. It was as if they found out I was secretly a member of the Manson family and had been out butchering newborns with a rusty knife. Their son was “on drugs”! Oh, the horror, the shock, the shame!

In reality, I was just like most people my age, in the late 70s or early 80s; I simply liked “to party”.

The benefit to my parents for all of this was simple, they had an excuse for my moods and behaviour; they had something external to blame for anything and everything they thought was wrong with me.

And even better than that, it meant they could dismiss and lingering doubts they had about their parenting skills, because it couldn’t be their fault if I was messed up on drugs!

I should add that during this time period, I was a full time student and worked a full time job. That’s a 40-hour workweek, plus a full course load and associated homework. Go me!

My parents were absolved of any guilt for how I turned out. If I talked back to my mother, it was because I was “on drugs”. If I stayed in my room when relatives visited, it was because I was “on drugs”. If I came home too late and ate all the chocolate cookies, it was because I was “on drugs”.

Alright, I will give in to that last one, but the others are total bullshit!

I’ve smoked weed every day since I was 18, including and especially skunk. And speaking of bullshit, skunk is not new and calling it a brand new type of super-weed is patently false.

I had been smoking for around a year when I was first introduced to what we all now call “skunk”. I was 19 and the year was 1982, which if my drug-addled brain can still do math is 25 years ago!

The guy I was purchasing from had what everyone had back then, normal Colombian which was brown and tasted of dirt. Bleuch!

Then, one day I called ‘round to see him and he asked me if I ever had “Indica” before. It was a new one on me.

He brought out three large bags, each graded according to strength and explained that the strongest was the top bud, and the other two grades were lower down on the plant. The buds were just that, proper buds, and the first I had ever seen. It looked like green cauliflower the size of infant’s fists. And the smell, wow, it was overpowering!

It smoked like a dream, with a full rich flavour and potency beyond anything I had before. It was love at first puff and that love affair continues to this day!

Was it 20 times stronger than “normal weed”? Of course not! It was noticeably stronger, though and I bought as much as I could afford. I still do, though it remains fairly scarce here in London.

The strains, which are known collectively as “skunk” were actually pioneered in the Netherlands in the 60s, so there is around 40 years of collective knowledge and experience to draw from on the subject, right here in Europe. I would love to see some data from the Dutch mental health system on their rates of teenage madness as a result of dope! I would venture a guess that they do not see any link.

In Holland, where weed is openly tolerated, and sold under controlled rules, it’s harder for underage kiddies to score. Also, because responsible adults openly consume it, teenagers are less likely to chase after it for it’s illicit nature. In the Netherlands, reported rates of cannabis use among teens are much lower than it is in the UK. Why can’t we follow the Dutch example?

The reason why skunk is more prevalent in the UK now is simple; because more weed is grown domestically. It’s grow domestically because it is cheaper and easier to do that than to risk importing it into the country in quantity from countries where it grows well outside. If you want weaker weed on the streets, then let the smugglers bring some in! THC levels would be lower, and people could choose what they wanted to smoke.

Think of normal weed as beer and skunk as the equivalent of spirits. People don’t drink pints of whiskey, do they? Ok, some people do, but most are able to exercise a degree of moderation. If weed were legal, the strength could be printed on the pack, the same way alcohol content is with booze. I’ll stop now, I’m making way too much sense!

In the second anti-cannabis hysteria front-page article of the IoS, they had a very funny and unchallenged quote from Sir Richard Branson, which should not have been printed. In his apology for endorsing the Independent’s legalise-weed campaign, Branson said that he would never had supported the cause if he knew about these “new, genetically modified” types of dope. What the fuck?

Does he really think that there are scientists in laboratories re-sequencing cannabis DNA to yield increased potency? Look, if it is true, I really want to meet these intrepid geneticists, who’ve given up on curing cancer or the common cold in favour of getting me higher! Bring on the Nobel Prize!

Seriously, does he really believe that research grants are backing GM marijuana? I thought Branson was a bright guy, but this is really dumb.

Cannabis, like any plant, is bred for certain qualities, naturally, by using one plant to pollinate another, the same way they figured out how to get rid of potato blight. Say you find a plant that yields well, or tastes especially nice and another that flowers quicker than others. By cross breeding the two plants, you should eventually end up with a sibling plant that has a combination of the positive elements of both parents. That does NOT qualify as genetically modified in my book. Making tomatoes glow in the dark by adding jellyfish genes, now that’s GM!

Rather than continue to debunk the factually and emotionally inaccurate reporting in the IoS, I would prefer to let my favourite newspaper, do it for me, with the following very interesting article that you can read RIGHT HERE. The Guardian is the voice of sense and reason! Rock on!

Don’t let the ever-increasing media hysteria get to you. They are 100% wrong. Stick with this hippy for the truth about dope, first hand and without a negative bias!

(NB: In the interest of full disclosure, the northlondonhippy was under the influence of “skunk cannabis” during the writing of this blog entry and he is still a sane, well-balanced, tax-paying member of society.)

As much as I love Big Brother, I hate it when the series finishes.

I know I’ve joked about it going on forever; but in truth a little part of me really wishes it could.

When a series is current, it takes up quite a bit of your time.

No, more than that, it becomes part of your life and the housemates become part of your life too.

Whether you love them or loathe them or something in between; if you’re a committed BB viewer then everyone in the house means something to you, in some weird, twisted, post-modernist way.

What does it say about me that every year I let a dozen or more total strangers become my friends, in what is very much a one-sided relationship?

What does it say about all of us?

Our bleak and dreary lives are full of despair, with bitter disappointment and untold, immeasurable injustices lurking around every corner.

If it weren’t for soft drugs and consumer purchases, my life would be meaningless. I shop; I smoke; therefore I am.

Oh cheer up you miserable hippy!

Big Brother is a way to escape our own lives by involving ourselves in the lives of others; many of whom we see as less than ourselves. By judging them negatively, we can feel better about who we are.

I don’t have a problem with that.

My problem is that I still become attached to them. I miss them. Something doesn’t feel right when they are all finally out of the house.

I go to E4 and press that red button and goddammit, nothing happens! I can’t see them. I don’t know what they’re doing. They’re not there.

I’ve spent the entire series being highly critical of all of them, with my wry observations and insulting barbs and now I’m pining for them like a loyal dog misses his master.

Sound familiar?

Isn’t that what families are like?

The people you are closest to are the ones that drive you the craziest. The housemates become part of all of our families during the entire run of the series.

Like your real life relatives, I’m sure there are some you like more than others and others you positively detest.

Perhaps the beauty of our annual, disposable friendships with BB HMs benefit from being one-sided. They don’t hate us. They can’t. They don’t know us.

Do you feel like you know this year’s HMs well? If you watched the entire series, I bet you do. Me too. I think it is fair to say that we all feel we have a sense of most of them.

The reverse is not true at all. They don’t know anything about us, and what they do think they know is probably a mix of misjudgement and misunderstanding.

We’re just the general public to them, as long we keep purchasing Heat Magazine when one of them is on the cover, they’re happy.

Take my beloved Princess Nikki, please. When she stepped out of the house on the night of the final, her reaction demonstrated how little she really understands about the audience. The boo’ing and catcalling left her dumbstruck and her interview had to be scrapped. They didn’t even bother cutting her “best bits” because we’d seen them already, which only perplexed her even more.

Yet, we as viewers think we know Nikki, as we think we know all of them. But in reality, we don’t know them that well; we only know what we’ve been shown.

Here’s the thing about editing… As much as everyone likes to think that Endemol manipulate things in the edit suite, they don’t. They can’t. They can only use footage acquired by filming the HMs as they do whatever they do. They don’t use some superduper computer to generate fake scenes. That’s just silly.

What they do is take 24 hours of material and distil it down to around 45 minutes of tight, fast paced for the MTV generation, entertainment. They want to tell the most compelling stories from the house in the most entertaining, emotive way possible.

What I don’t think they do is edit for or against any housemate. I don’t think they are ever really out to get anyone, but they do let people bring their own “rope” sometimes. You know what happens when they give someone enough rope, don’t you?

Editing, in it’s very nature is the selective inclusion and omission of elements that tell a story. It’s meant to focus the story and make it easier and more rewarding to follow.

For what possible purpose would Endemol want to manipulate the editing any more than they try to hide things when they go wrong?

Actually, I think the opposite is true; when things go wrong, they make it part of the programme, as it adds controversy and elements of surprise and spontaneity.

This year, all the scandal and alleged scamming brought in the punters much more than it turned them away. The tabloid feeding frenzy was just as big as it is every year, but then the ratings were just as high too.

None of this changes the fact that everything we see is filtered by Endemol, including what we are allowed to know about the contestants. So we don’t really know them at all, we only see certain aspects of them.

I’m sure there are sides to every housemate that remain unseen by us. No, I don’t mean them squatting on the bog!

What we’ve seen is just a glimpse into their lives, a mere peek at who they really are. We don’t really know them, can’t really know them, as we are not given the access we think we are.

Yes, it’s all an illusion, but then isn’t everything we see on television just the representation of reality, but not reality itself? Is looking out the window at people passing by any different from watching live streaming from the house?

If you look out your window long enough, you will begin to see the same faces passing by. If you did it for months, you would begin to form opinions about these people through your simple observations of such things as clothing, hairstyle, facial expression and a million other things. If you sat there for years, you would probably feel as if you knew some of these passing strangers, but would you?

BB is like that window, only with the years of observing crammed into a relatively short span of time. And it’s the same illusion that makes you believe that you know the housemates well.

The same goes for me, I don’t really know them either.

So tell me this, if I don’t really know them, why do I miss them so much?

If they are still only strangers to me, why do I feel so attached to them?

We love BB because it’s like holding a mirror up to society, but it’s a one-way mirror, like they have in changing rooms at department stores. The housemates only see a reflection, but BB’s cameras can see everything.

We’re all voyeurs at heart; we all like to gawk, even if we’d never admit it.

Tell me you can make yourself look away when you drive past a car crash. You can’t, can you?

That’s why it’s sometimes referred to as “car crash television”, because you just can’t look away.

I can’t just look away either which makes it even harder when the series ends, because its not my choice! I’m forced to go without my BB fix and no one even asked me how I felt about it!

The swine!

Yes, I’ll miss Russell Brand and BBBM, it was a real highlight to my viewing this year and I think he was the real star of the whole damn thing. He has a new series on E4 starting next month, but without the BB aspect, I don’t know if it will be any good. I’ll certainly give it a go with an open mind.

I’ll even miss Dermot and Davina, though as previously mentioned, he’s been sleepwalking through BBLB and her interview technique and mugging for the camera a bit too much to take sometimes.

And as for the housemates, I really will miss them all. Some of them I’ll probably never see again, others all too often, but as BB contestants, each one will always hold a special place in my memories.

Shabaz – may you find sanity, or may sanity find you.

Dawn – who?

George – enjoy obscurity

Bonnie – next time order a Chinese takeaway!

Sezer – no comment

Sam – best of luck (what else can I say?)

Grace – may the sugar cubes and carrots always be plentiful!

Lisa – mint? more like morning breath

Jonathan – we hardly knew ya!

Lea – one day, your breasts will have their own postcode

Jayne – have you ever thought of trying antacids?

Michael – she’s not amused

Spiral – No means no, matey!

Mikey – no one mumbles quite like you

Susie – I liked you better with your tits out

Imogen – nice, pretty, smiles a lot (it’s what she wanted)

Jennie – you’ll be alright when you grow up

Nikki – we haven’t seen the last of you

Richard – I hope your mum is ok

Aisleyne – you go girl! I think you’ll go far

Glyn – Keep learning, keep experiencing, keep living

Pete – eeezamana!

Perfect Pete; the perfect winner. He was the bookie’s favourite right from the start and stayed that way for the entire run. I’m not disappointed he won, he’s a winner we can all live with, but it still would have been nice to see a shock Aisleyne win if for no more reason than I now can spell her name properly!

There’s one more group of people I need to thank and that’s all of you who’ve been dropping by to read my BB drivel. I’ve really enjoyed writing about Big Brother this year and it’s added an extra level of fun for me.

But the northlondonhippy doesn’t end just because BB does.

Here at the hippy, we have fun all year long! Now that you’ve discovered me and joined the vanguard of the internet elite, why not continue feeling superior to other mortals by continuing your visits to this very website.

It’s not that I’m unknown; I prefer to see myself as underground. Only the really cool, hip, happening people come to my site and now you can count yourself amongst this select group of fantastic people.

How lucky are you?

And I make it easy for you to keep up with all things hippy and I personally invite you to bookmark my page for future reference.

Even better, if you dig your RSS reader, why not grab one of my many syndication feeds, that way, you don’t have to come to the hippy, you can make the hippy come to you!

And with that, the northlondonhippy BB column finishes for this series, but the northlondonhippy blog lives on!

Catch ya later, masturbator!