Stand Up and Speak Out!!

Today is International Women’s Day, a day for marking the achievements of the so-called fairer-sex.  How ironic, then, that on this day – when the theme of this year’s event is “Empower Women: End Hunger and Poverty” – I read on the Independent’s website that President Karzai of Afghanistan has taken a major step backwards for his country and endorsed the recommendation by the religious council that women go back to second-class citizen status.

It’s believed the recommendation that “men are fundamental and women are secondary” came about as a means of placating the Taliban and bringing them to the table in an attempt to bring the war in Afghanistan to an end, although the fact that President Karzai endorsed the motion on the very same day six British soldiers were killed has raised questions in some quarters as to whether we should still be sending our service personnel to die in a country which appears to be reneging on the issue.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for bringing this war to an end as quickly as is humanly possible, and I’m not so naïve as to think this is something we in the West can achieve with our Afghan counterparts without including the Taliban, but am I prepared to countenance this at the loss of the progress which has been made to the issue of women’s rights in the country?  No sir, I am not.  Under the Taliban girls were barred from school and women from employment, and that’s without invoking the ridiculous laws about wearing make-up or the brutal public stonings they carried out (if you haven’t seen Sairah Shah’s powerful and moving documentary ‘Beneath the Veil’, which focuses on this issue, I strongly suggest you try and track a copy down); on the day which aims to bring the issue of women’s poverty – which lack of education is a huge contributor to – to the attention of the wider world, how anyone can sit by and allow such a thing to pass without comment is beyond me. 

But it’s not just in Afghanistan that women’s issues need to be shouted from the rooftops as proof of how far we haven’t come; in the UK, too, we’re not exempt from gender inequality.  The most obvious issue, of course, and the one which everyone seems aware of, is the pay gap between men and women and that infamous ‘glass ceiling’, but it’s not just economics.  The past week has seen scathing comments directed at the Government over the funding cuts to organisations which support women fleeing domestic violence; the closing of at least two women’s refuges; and the proposed changes to the Legal Aid Bill, all of which are, for the most part, going to affect women rather than men.  Now obviously men are victims of domestic abuse, but the vast majority of those enduring the abuse are women, and this is yet another example of the gender inequality which exists in our green and pleasant land.  If a victim approaching the courts for help in getting away from her violent partner or ex-partner cannot say she has a non-molestation order against them, and if there has not been a criminal conviction, then legal aid will not be granted.  Given that the vast majority of domestic abuse victims don’t go through the criminal justice system, this puts yet another obstacle in the path of anyone wanting to get out of a situation which no one should ever have to find themselves in.

Then there are our teenage daughters, sisters, cousins.  Oh ladies, we’ve let them down as well.  According to a new report by the NSPCC, more than a third of teenage girls have experienced some form of sexual violence; one in five believe that if a boy spends money on them, he has the right to receive sex in return, regardless of the girl’s own feelings; and some even believe that if they have sex with one boy, his friends have the right to have sex with her as well.  They don’t recognise that what’s happening to them is sexual violence, sexual assault, even rape.  How did we let this happen?  How did we as a society make it acceptable for the next generation not to believe they are entitled to keep their bodies sacred; that no means no; that achieving social status doesn’t have to mean having sex with as many people as possible?  How did we let them think that rape is only what happens when a stranger grabs you off the street and bundles you into an alleyway or a deserted park when it’s dark, and not tell them that rape can also be about giving into pressure from the boy you sit next to in maths class every day?  Are we raising a generation that won’t be empowered enough to say no; who think that the battles for feminism – that dirty word – have all been won and so they have to go along with these things?

It’s not just sex, either – what of the pressure on women to be ‘thin’?  There was a report on the Independent’s website this week about modelling agencies once again standing accused of putting pressure on their models to maintain ridiculous and unobtainable weights, contributing to yet another rise in the eating disorders anorexia and bulimia.  These models, and myriad celebrities along with them, are everywhere; their thinness is constantly being pushed into the consciousness of our society and so no one whatsoever should be remotely surprised that girls as young as eight are being admitted to treatment centres with anorexia.  Enough already.

When the original Suffragettes chained themselves to railings, threw themselves under horses, endured hunger strikes and the barbaric consequences of the Cat and Mouse Act – and, yes, used violence – to get their message across, they envisioned a better word for their daughters; a world where men and women would be treated fairly and equally.  They would have been horrified that we have ‘settled’ for a bland version of equality; where ‘flexible’ working hours often means less pay and where we are still taught to be ‘the little woman’, although with a focus on being the right weight, staying off our own streets after dark because of the danger and accepting the still deeply misogynistic culture which constantly pervades our society.  The women who fought for abortion and contraceptive rights would be outraged that these things were still under attack, that women in Virginia could be subjected to a new law which would force them to have a vaginal ultrasound when seeking an abortion, no matter what their reason.  The women who bravely stood up for the rights of all men and all women to be equal would shake their heads in confusion at the fate of the women in Egypt, who were physically and sexually assaulted on International Women’s Day last year by the same men who had stood side-by-side with them months earlier to bring about the downfall of President Mubarak.  And the ghosts of those women who starved themselves to death in the name of women’s suffrage would quiver with rage at the discovery that women are still having to take such extreme measures to get their voices heard, that two members of the Russian punk band Pussy Riot are on hunger strike in a Moscow jail after their arrest for singing less-than-complimentary songs about Vladimir Putin and his not-at-all-rigged election victory.

Our foremothers fought and died for our right to vote, to be treated as equal citizens.  Even in the US, that great bastion of supposed tolerance and equality, had to amend its great Constitution from “all Men are created equal under God” to include women and the black population.  In the Sixties our mothers fought for the right to the contraceptive pill; in the Seventies our older sisters marched for all sorts of issues.  How horrified would they be at the way things have turned out, I wonder…?

I know it isn’t all doom and gloom.  I know that in the Western World, at least, things have come a long way.  But the battles haven’t all been won and it’s up to us to stand up and speak out; to rally together as all those women who went before us once did; and to shake ourselves out of our complacency and polite acceptance of the status quo.  I want you to be furious at the plight of women in Afghanistan if this new ‘recommendation’ becomes enforceable.  I want you to be sickened by the illegal weddings of young girls in India – some as young as 7 or 8 – to men old enough to be their fathers or grandfathers, which are all done under the cover of night to prevent not the police being informed (for they turn a blind eye in many regions) but to stop the NGO’s coming and taking the girls away to safety.  But I also want you to be furious that Bob across the office from you, who does exactly the same job you do, still gets paid more than you do.  I want you to be sickened that your 8 year old daughter worries she might be too fat to be considered worthwhile, or that your 15 year old niece thinks the only way to get anywhere in life is to let some boy have sex with her even though she’s not really sure she’s ready for it.  I want you to stand up and scream from the rooftops that domestic abuse is an aberration which needs to be destroyed once and for all; that you have the right to choose an abortion if you so wish it, without being made to feel like a criminal; that you are more – so very much more – than that fabulous haircut and superb bikini body you so pride yourself on. 

Deeds, not words, was the motto of the original Suffragettes.  Enough is enough.  It’s time to stop talking about how “something needs to be done” and time to actually do it.  We need to educate ourselves as well as the next generation, and we need to make sure we fight as hard for our rights as Sylvia Pankhurst and the rest did.  We know things aren’t right, girls, but unless we take that first step to trying to change it, they aren’t going to get any better…

Fight the Fascists...

Now here's a terrifying prospect...I read in The Independent today that the English Defence League, that bastion of all things far-right and extremist, are uniting with their counterparts from other EU countries including host nation Denmark, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Italy and Poland - as well as the Ronseal-named groups Stop Islamisation of Europe and Stop Islamisation of the world and the more intriguingly-titled European Freedom Initiative - to take part in the first ever European Counter-Jihad Meeting.  In the words of the Almighty Eddie Izzard - quod the actual fuck?

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to suddenly reveal myself as a leading cheerleader for the Al Quaida group or anything - as far as I'm concerned, any form of militant extremism and fundamentalism, be it religious or nationalistic, is an abhorrent thing that needs wiping out, particularly when the tactics these groups choose to implement result in the murders of innocent people (yes, AQ, I'm looking at you...)  However, the idea of the EDL and their little friends having some form of tea party in Denmark in order to consolidate and politicise their hate-fuelled, bigoted and ignorant agenda makes me want to go rushing to the nearest mosque to beg their faiths collective forgiveness on behalf of everyone in England with even half a brain cell.  The point of the meeting in Aarhus, according to the EDL leader Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, is to "discuss tactics.  Each country's delegates will get time to describe the problems they have.  We will try to pool resources.  For example, if another defence league wants to run a demonstration in their own country they are unlikely to get as much media interest as if we were involved, so we would go over there and lend our support".  Ah, the EDL, doing their bit to ensure that historical depictions of the English as "thugs for hire" remains resolutely and charmingly intact...

Seriously, though, surely there has to be some sort of law against a meeting of this type?  There's a difference between allowing freedom of speech and allowing incitement of racial/religious hatred, which is what this little shindig is coming down to.  At the moment the EDL resemble nothing more than a bunch of hooligans out to cause trouble and stir up hatred; bad enough in itself, but can you imagine them getting together with the likes of the Norwegian Defence League (who spawned Anders Brevik, the man who went on a murderous rampage in the country late last year) or some of the other groups who have political wings and are elected to local, and in some instances national, government?  What a terrifying prospect...and this meeting is expected to be only the first; the various defence leagues intend to make their little get-together a regular thing, eventually forming a European Defence League which will model itself on the EU and both politicise and unify these disparate groups.

In the 1930's the right-wing Fascist movement gained popularity not just here in the UK (Oswald Mosley and his 'Black Shirts' for example) but across Europe - and we all know what happened next.  Now I'm not suggesting for one second that this gathering in Denmark is going to lead to a full-scale persecution of Muslims and the outbreak of World War Three, but I think it should make us wary.  Very wary.  And when I say 'us' I mean all of us; every sensible, right-thinking human being in Europe needs to be aware of this and put pressure on those in power to ensure that history doesn't end up repeating itself and these mindless idiots don't get the chance to do something the rest of us will regret.  It is completely unacceptable for Al Quaida and their ilk to go around deliberately misinterpreting and twisting the Q'uran for their own ends and murdering innocent people.  It is equally unacceptable for the EDL and their European counterparts to go around tarring all Muslims with the same brush and advocating the brutal disrespect of their faith.  Some of our European neighbours already have far-right politicians making threats at coming into power, even in some small and seemingly insignificant way, but any advance the far-right makes is something which should send a small shiver of warning down the spines of anyone with the aforementioned half a braincell and a conscience.

So let the 50 members of the EDL go to Denmark, if that's what they want, and let them have their little chinwag with their mates.  Perhaps the UK border agency could do the rest of us a favour, however, and have another one of their 'glitches'.  Lost passports, mislaid documentation, closing the borders to anyone inciting racial hatred...given the reaction of most Daily Mail readers to the news this was happening to that exotic and dangerous foreign 'other', I'm sure they'd quite understand if the Government announced it was having to really tighten up and clamp down on its border checks and so on...

Be afraid, Europe.  Be very, very afraid...and also vigilant.  If one side goes off you just know the extremist wings of the other side will feel the need to jump up and down as well, and frankly the last thing any of us normal citizens need is to be caught in the cross fire.

Beat the Bullies...

I hate the fact we live in a world where someone can be judged on something trivial - the colour of their skin, their sexuality, how they dress - and bullied because of it.  I hate the fact that, as I type this, there are entire legions of young (and not-so-young) people who are suffering at the hands of bullies.  I hate the fact that between 15 and 25 teenagers a year kill themselves because they are being bullied, and I hate the fact that, thanks to the wonders of the World Wide Web and mobile phones, this bullying can continue even in the sanctity of their own bedrooms. 

Now I was lucky.  Although I had my 'differences' with one of the girls I was at secondary school with it never really degenerated into out-and-out bullying, although there were days when she made my life utterly miserable, and we certainly never had the technology for her to be able to continue tormenting me outside the school gates.  These days thanks to Facebook, Twitter and the rest, some kids are being bullied even when they're in the so-called safety of their own homes.  I just cannot get my head around the fact that some people clearly have such pointless and pathetic lives they feel they have some god-given right to inflict such suffering on others.

It is never ok to pick on someone, to mentally and emotionally torture them, to beat them up or drive them to complete and utter misery because they happen to look/act/think differently to you.  It doesn't make you cool.  Calling someone fat or queer, beating someone up because they dress 'Goth', driving another human being into taking their own life because they can't put up with the relentless torture - because that, my friends, is what it is - is NEVER ACCEPTABLE.

If you're being bullied, the first thing I want to tell you is it isn't your fault.  The second thing I want to tell you is you aren't alone.  The third and most important thing I want to tell you is that there are people out there who can help you.  I know it's hard, but you need to talk to someone about it and, if you don't feel confident enough to tell a friend, parent, teacher or colleague then there are other agencies out there who will be able to help you.  You can contact Kidscape who also have a phone line for parents of children who are being bullied.  You can call Childline on 0800 1111.  You can call the Samaritans on 08457 909090 - they also have a website detailing the other ways you can contact them.  

What you are going through is NOT ok.  Don't let the bullies win.  Talk to someone.  Please.  It does get better and you don't have to end up a statistic.  You can beat the bullies and go on to live a full and happy life; you just need to realise that you aren't fighting on your own...

It Can't Rain All The Time...

...Or why "The Crow" is, in fact, the perfect movie for Valentine's Day.

No, this is not going to be some bitter and twisted singleton's post about how much I hate Valentine's Day, how it reeks of commercialism and how you don't need one day to show someone how much you love them (although all of the above is, in fact, true - seventy five quid for a bunch of flowers in Tesco; I ask you!)  Instead it's my attempt to prove to people - well, mainly to the GBF, since he maintains watching a film this violent on the day of Love is tantamount to needing a quick side-trip to a padded cell - that actually my annual ritual for V-Day is entirely appropriate...

For those of you who haven't seen the film, what's wrong with you?  Hang your heads in shame and go immediately to your nearest DVD outlet to rent/purchase it immediately.  Ok, ok, I'll help you out.  The film starts in an apartment in Detroit on Devils Night, the night before Halloween.  A young woman is severely injured and later dies in hospital; her fiance, a musician, lies dead outside having taken a swan dive through the window.  No one is caught and the murders remain unsolved.  A year later the musician, Eric Draven, is brought back from the Land of the Dead by a crow and sets about systematically targeting everyone responsible for the death of his beloved Shelly and his own murder, being helped along the way by a friendly cop and Sarah, a young girl befriended by Eric and Shelly when they were still alive.  The film ends with Eric returning to his grave, where he is reunited with Shelly.

Yes, The Crow is violent. There's no getting away from that - a variety of people get beaten up and killed in various nasty ways throughout the film, and of course the wonderful Brandon Lee died as the result of a tragic accident during the making of the movie.  The Bad Guys get got in this one, and its violence - while justified in the context of the story - can at times seem a little disturbing. The film is absolutely about violence and vengeance, but at the core of the film - at the core of the story - is love.  And what could be more appropriate on this day of Love than that?  The love between Eric Draven and Shelly Webster is the beating heart of this movie; love that goes beyond the grave; the kind of love you read about in sappy chick-lit books or see in the 'great' love stories of classic film history - and no amount of violence can ever take that away from it...

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone...

Snow Patrol!

Ok, so there was no Lust List last night because yours truly was at the O2 Arena, freezing my sexy little arse off (why do I never remember how cold it is in that place?) to go and see the absolutely wonderful Snow Patrol, and of course the lead singer of the Belfast band, Gary Lightbody, has already had the dubious honour of making the list.  Well.  Just...well.  It.  Was.  Incredible.  I know people go on an on about how boring they are (yes, Mother, I'm looking at you) but it was one hell of a show - easily in the top five gigs I've ever been to, and that's saying something.  Gary and the boys put on one hell of a show - I literally ran the entire gamut of emotions from hysterical laughter (oh, Mr Lightbody, you are such a funny guy!) to hysterical sobbing to dancing like a crazy thing and then shrieking like a demented harpy when old old songs got pulled out of the bag.  It was completely amazing and Gary has just rocketed up into my Top 10 Live Frontman/woman list - not only is he very sweet and charming, he's also very humble and witty.  The rest of the guys were also astonishingly good; they're all awesome musicians anyway, and live they are just something else.  I really, really recommend going to see them if you ever get the chance (and can get a ticket, because the Gods alone know how lucky I was to get mine!)

So, a treasured memory of the night...

I LOVE this photo - I managed to catch Gary just as he turned to the band and started to laugh; I think they were all a bit staggered by just how many people were rammed inside the (not exactly tiny) arena, and I've rarely been to a gig with such a good atmosphere.  It was staggering.  It was magic.  I got goosebumps, I cried, I laughed...I want to go again.  Now.  Looks like I'll just have to play my videos instead...which apparently I can't upload, so you'll have to ask me to email them to you if want to see them...

Dysmorphic Despair...

I've just sat and watched Gok Wan's new show, "Gok's Teens: The Naked Truth".  Now everyone who knows me will know that I hold Auntie Gok in the highest of esteem - indeed, not only do I think he's the nation's Fairy Gokmother, I think he ought to be listed as some sort of national treasure - and so if there's anyone out there who could work miracles on the self-confidence of the UK's teenagers, it's Gok.  That said, I've rarely felt so sad watching a TV programme (the finale of Being Human series 3 and David Tennant's last scenes as Doctor Who don't count - everyone knows how traumatic they were...)

One of the things that really saddened me about the show was the story of the two girls.  One of them developed anorexia at 14 and was now a year into her recovery, still battling the negative thoughts and the guilt her illness brought with it.  The other was 15 and obsessed with the fact she didn't look 'perfect' like the models in magazines and on the websites; she also looked at the so-called 'pro-ana/thinspiration' websites and airbrushed all the photos she took of herself to make herself look thinner.  It absolutely broke my heart - they were both incredibly pretty young girls and yet one was struggling with the guilt her anorexia caused while the other, who was perfectly slim and healthy looking, fretted because she didn't have a gap between her thighs when she stood up straight.  Now I've seen those so-called 'thinspiration' pro-anorexia websites because I did some research on them while at college and they made me feel physically sick.  How anyone could accept that these images are anyone's ideal is beyond me, but it just goes to show both how overpowering anorexia can be and how much pressure these young girls feel under.  It's why I greatly admire Isabelle Caro, the young French model who died in November last year from anorexia; she was very open about her batle with the disease and used the shocking photos of herself to both promote discussion and to warn women and girls about the dangers of the disease.  She was 28 when she died as a result of 'complications' of the illness, which is just a shocking and tragic waste of a life.  When Gok took both of these girls under his wing and made them feel better about themselves, I just wanted to cry and give them both a big hug, to tell them that they are beautiful, just as they are.

That said, however, I've fought my own battles with body dysmorphia, although luckily - and thankfully - it was never as bad as some of the cases I've heard about and was never serious enough to develop into an eating disorder.  That didn't make it any less traumatic to deal with.  I've never completely opened up about it before but having seen Gok's programme - and then watching the documentary about the remarkable, courageous and inspiring Katie Piper - I feel like now's the time to get to grips with it and put a few ghosts to rest...of course this is only dealing with the external side of things - I long ago gave up on the bizarre inner workings of human bodies in general and mine in particular, but the external stuff is what caused me the problems back then and it's those which need to be addressed...

So...The Body.  There was a time, even a few years ago, when I barely looked in the mirror.  Couldn't stand it.  I wasn't pretty, I wasn't thin - although conversely I also managed to simultaneously hate my lack of curves - and frankly the mere sight of myself depressed me beyond belief.  I hated my stomach because it wasn't totally flat, and I hated my boobs because they weren't big enough.  It got to the point where I started limiting what I ate and weighing myself every chance I got, not seriously enough to develop into a full-blown obsession with food that could tip over into anorexia, but enough that I'm sure some people, especially my mum, noticed the weight start creeping off.  At 17 I went on the pill for health reasons and was overjoyed when I put weight on and developed curves of some sort, then I had to stop taking it and the curves vanished again.  I'd look at images of Kate Winslet, Liv Tyler and other 'celebrity' women I admired and wish I looked like them; I used to write lengthy notebook entries about how I wished I was taller/thinner/prettier/curvier/more toned/had bigger boobs; that's when it got to the point where I stopped looking in the mirror.  It wasn't worth it.  I hated what stared back at me.  I was constantly comparing myself to other girls who were pretty/curvy/whatever and always came up short.  Solution: ignore the mirror, pretend you don't exist and, in your head, think Veronica Lake.  When in doubt, make believe; that was why I went through so many different 'incarnations' of myself as a teenager - for example, wearing low slung combat trousers which showed my underwear and piling on the lipliner so I could look like Lita from WWE wrestling; because I wasn't happy with myself I tried to be other people, or at least take parts of them to try and make them my own.

That was then.  Thankfully, my external body and my brain have come to a sort of uneasy truce and we tend to get along much better these days.  Oh don't get me wrong, I'd still kill to look like Kate Winslet did when she was in Titanic, but my brain has slowly come around to the idea that - short of some sort of black magic to transplant me into her body - it ain't ever gonna happen.  And I'm ok with that.  My body is what it is and I look the way I do and that's that.  We've reached a sort of peaceful resolution with each other which, while surprising and sometimes needing a bit of reinforcement, seems to be holding firm the older I get.

Obviously I didn't undergo this sort of Damascene Conversion overnight, nor did I reach such conclusions of my own accord.  It's been a faltering road, with many a muttered "oh, don't be so ridiculous" along the way.  My mum, bless her, has always tried to boost me up but, as a grotty teenager and then a marginally less grotty young adult, my default position was, "well, you're my mother; of course you're going to tell me I'm cute/pretty/beautiful/whatever".  But slowly, slowly the seeds were planted.  I always had a bit of a soft spot for my eyes; when one of the guys I used to work with told me they reminded him of the 'Heroes' titles, we nick-named them my "end of the world" eyes and they became my favourite feature.  He also had a habit of complimenting me on a regular basis, determined to make me accept that I was more than I thought I was; it took a while, but eventually I was able to accept the odd compliment without resorting to "oh, don't be so ridiculous!"  Thanks, Frankie - I must have been a pain in the arse and a huge work in progress, but you put me back on the right track.  It meant that by the time my ex-boyfriend told me he thought I was gorgeous, I started to believe it.

The rest of my body and I came to our ceasefire over time as well.  I fully accept I could stop eating chocolate and do 100 sit-ups a night in order to get myself a totally flat stomach, but frankly I tried this once and lasted two days.  Life's too short for sit-ups, and sometimes a girl needs chocolate.  I may never have the dead-flat abs of an Angelina Jolie-type, but I guess it's not that bad all things considered.  Where my lack of curves is concerned...well, I'll never be Dita von Teese or Veronica Varlow (more's the pity) but if I cheat a bit a la Auntie Gok and cinch myself in at the waist with my trusty waspy belt, I can pass for having curves.  As to my boobs...well, this one's a bit of an ongoing battle, to be honest.  There are still days - even in the face of this god-awful PIP scandal - when I maintain that the first thing I'll do if I win the lottery (besides paying off my debts) is book myself in for a boob job; not to go crazy and end up like Jordan (now there's a body dysmorphic disorder case if I ever saw one) but just to go a bit bigger and more even.  There are other days when I look at them and think, "well, small is beautiful, they're all mine and it means I can get into really small tops without looking like a slag".  These are the days when I give thanks to the man who invented the Wonderbra and carry blithely on.  We may come to a suitable solution one day but, for the time being, we carry on see-sawing along and seem to be coping quite well.  My body, externally at least, is no longer my enemy; I can look in the mirror these days without hating myself and, thanks to a few hints and tricks I picked up along the way, I can find ways to make myself look and feel halfway decent.  I still have a tendency to be a bit of a magpie where my dress sense is concerned, but I tend to know what looks good on me now and dress accordingly.  And as for Auntie Gok's eternal question, asked at the end of every emotional 'journey' he goes on with the show's participants - "do you look good naked" - well, thanks to my wonderful mother I have a visual reminder that, actually, I look bloody amazing...

I never in a million years thought I would ever, ever have the balls to do something like this, but I'm so proud of myself for doing it and am seriously considering doing it again when my friend and I go for a similar photo shoot next month.  And the great thing is, every time I have a bit of a wobble about how I look, I can look at these photos and say, "actually, girlie, you do look pretty good".  It's a confidence booster for sure.

Watching this programme I was struck by the number of young girls who were constantly comparing themselves to models in magazines or celebrities.  The rise and rise of the celebrity magazine, which seems to constantly monitor the weight of various famous women (never men, I notice, even though anorexia and bulimia are on the rise among teenage boys and young men) has only added to the pressure on young girls, and I don't know whether it makes me sad or angry or both.  I know how hard it can be accepting how you look in your own skin, and my problems were nowhere near as bad as other people's, but that was tough enough.  When you're bombarded by images of 'perfection' it must be nigh on impossible to look in the mirror and accept that you, Miss Average and Normal, are never going to look like the immaculately made-up and airbrushed women you see in adverts or on magazine covers.

I don't know what the answer is.  I wish I did, because I've seen what eating disorders do to people - when I was 14 one of my friends died as a result of complications of anorexia - and it saddens me to think there are so many young girls out there who should be having the time of their lives yet can only focus on fitting in and looking 'perfect'.  The contrast between that show and the one which followed it, about the former model and presenter Katie Piper who was scarred horrendously in an acid attack orchestrated by her ex-boyfriend and who has courageously and publicly gone about rebuilding her life, was poignant.  I know who I'd want any putative daughter of mine looking up to, that's for sure...

So I'll keep facing my own body demons when they rear their ugly little heads, and I want to do my own bit as well.  So I will say this, and it goes out to any girl or woman reading this blog.  Actually, it goes out to ANYONE reading this blog, because I know full well how body dysmorphia can affect men as well as women.  And what I say is this: I know you have days when you can't stand to look in the mirror because you hate what you see, and I know you feel you will never, ever look like this celebrity or that model in the magazines.  That's because they spend 3 hours in make-up and are then airbrushed to within an inch of their lives.  They don't look like that normally because such things are impossible.  But you are the only person in the world who looks, thinks and acts like YOU; you are an individual, a one-off, a remarkable creation full of magic and mystery and you DESERVE to be happy.  And I think you're gorgeous.  Find one thing, just one thing, about yourself that you know makes you feel good - I, for example, will always fall back on my 'end of the world' eyes if the going gets tough - and hold onto it for dear life.  Never let anyone tell you you're not beautiful because you ARE.  You are beautiful in your uniqueness and for that I salute each and every single one of you.

Lust List Update...

Ok, so I know I've neglected the blog this week, but it's been a bit of an odd week.  Since it's been so blah, there could be only one entrant for today's lust list...well, technically there are two, but as Richard Madden graced the blog last week there is only one other...ladies and gentlemen, Mr Kit Harington...

Suddenly my week looks a whole lot better...

In Which I Fangirl. A Lot.

Ok, so the new Game of Thrones season 2 trailer is out...

...which basically means that my brain is now completely mush.  Well, more than usual, anyway.  Aside from the teeny-weeny complaint that it needs more Richard Madden (Robb Stark) and Kit Harington (Jon Snow) in it, it is actually amazing.  Conleth Hill as Varys has just turned one of my most uncertain characters into a total favourite; Carice van Houten looks amazing as Melisandre (and ohmigod, was that a birthing of a shadow-baby thing I saw?!!) and Emilia Clarke (Daenerys) and Peter Dinklage (Tyrion) are just amazing.  I cannot get over how beautifully-shot the whole thing is, how brilliantly-acted the whole thing is and goddamit I want it to be April 2nd right NOW!

I'm off to do some re-reading and some major fangirling...

Lest They Forget...

Yesterday was International Holocaust Memorial Day, marking 67 years since the Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp in Poland was liberated, and when the Norwegian Prime Minister publicly apologised for the role his country had played in the arrest and deportation of Jews after the Nazis invaded.  Of course it wasn't just the Jews who were imprisoned and murdered during the Holocaust - political dissenters, Communists, intellectuals, homosexuals, Gypsies and many others were also systematically targeted and murdered by the Nazi regime - but due to the sheer numbers of Jews who were exterminated in the camps and the liquidization of the ghettos the two have become almost synonymous.

And yet while the vast majority of the civilised world stood and remembered the atrocities inflicted upon the Jewish population all those years ago, it seems the Powers-that-Be in Israel seem to be suffering from a prolonged and ongoing attack of collective short-term memory loss.  Now this isn't intended in any way to diminish what happened in the Holocaust or anything - I've never understood those idiots who claim the Holocaust never happened and when I visited Dachau last year the sheer futility of the loss of life was utterly overwhelming - but the attitude of the Israelis as a nation has always struck me as being faintly hypocritical and yet very few people ever stand up and point out the double standards.  Those self-same Western leaders who wring their hands in public and apologise for events which happened seventy-odd years ago have not once ever called the Israelis out on their policy of land grabbing; have never once publicly compared the wall they have built around Bethlehem and the rest to the walls which sprung up around the ghettos of Lodz, of Krakow.  The ghettoisation of the Jews stands out as a black mark in the history of the twentieth century while the ghettoisation of the Palestinian people remains un-discussed.

When the UN Partition of 1947 was drawn up, it allowed for a Jewish state and an Arab one; Israel and Palestine were destined to sit side by side on the map.  There was always contention - the holy city of Jerusalem, for example, has been fought over by the Jews, Muslims and Christians since time immemorial - but nevertheless there were to be two states, two nations, sanctified and enshrined in law.  The very same nations which interfered to bring about the state of Israel now stand by and do nothing as they continue to encroach and build on land that doesn't belong to them and which legally they do not own.  Britain, America and the rest say nothing when Netanyahu and his cronies decide they're going to build another 2000 homes on occupied land, or that they're going to extend their ridiculous wall another few hundred yards into Palestinian people; they say nothing when hundred of thousands of men, women and children are denied access to health care and are living in the bleakest poverty, except to condemn those who take the only course of action they feel is open to them.  I don't condone what the bombers and the shooters do, but I think perhaps I understand their motives: Israel refuses to negotiate with them and they are denied any recognition by the rest of the political world and so desperate men resort to desperate measures.

On the 27th December 2008 the Israelis bombarded Gaza and murdered 1,300 Palestinian people.  Approximately 6,537 have been killed since the year 2000; since 1948 over 1.5 million Palestinian men, women and children have died.  While this may pale against the approximately 6 million Jewish men, women and children murdered during the years of the Holocaust, nevertheless it begs the question: where is the sense of outrage and anger?  In 1945 the world looked at the ghettos and concentration camps, the forced marches and the mass graves and said "never again": how many more times must we say "never again"?  How long will it be before the rest of the world rises up and puts its collective foot down over Israel's policy of murder and containment, when they of all people - with their long memories and their shared history - should look at what they're doing and realise that they are perpetuating almost the very same deprivations and misery which they and their ancestors were subjected to during the war?

The answer, clearly, is never.  America fears the backlash of its large number of Jewish voters and, anyway, don't they and the rest of the Western world sneakily suspect the Palestinians of being nothing more than Arab terrorists, what with their bombs and their guns and shiz?  There was a hugely interesting article in the Independent today (here) about how the present (and perhaps the future) stands no chance when the past has such a sway over the state of Israel - thousands more Palestinians look as if they'll be moved from their land so Israel can build a park to glorify some conquest of King David's three thousand years ago that may or may not have happened.  Even the Palestinians themselves believe the Israeli leftist Miko Peled (whose father was a legendary Israeli general) when he says the state of Israel wants to "eliminate the existence of people who live on their land to solidify the myth of a glorious past".  It's not really surprising given that the self-same President of the USA who told them they they deserve their own state subsequently vetoed their demand for statehood when they approached the United Nations; wouldn't you feel a little confused and a little hacked off about the state of affairs (or the lack of a state to have affairs about?)

But Israel will keep building, the Palestinians will keep dying (as will the Israelis, when the bombings start again) and the rest of the world will keep looking away, ignoring the similarities between what's going on in Gaza and the West Bank and the events they come together to collectively flagellate themselves over once a year.  What happened in the Holocaust was more than despicable; there aren't enough words to describe the horrors of that catastrophic event or how, even now, you can stand in what used to be a concentration camp and weep at the pointlessness and the horror of it all.  But what's happening in Israel right now is equally despicable and horrific, and it's about time the Western politicians stood up and brought the Israelis to heel before yet another systematic extermination of a people is complete.  We went charging into the Balkans when the Serbs were being slaughtered; how can we stand by and do nothing as thousands of Palestinians are turned out of their homes and treated as less than human?

Friday Fix

Ok, so it's Friday which means only one thing.  Yep, my Little Black Book is being dusted off so I can present another very sexy extremely talented young man for my your pervy fantasies viewing pleasure.  Today has been a little bit flat for a variety of reasons so for that reason (not that I exactly need a reason, but humour me), today's Lust List entry is the very lovely and very Scottish Mr Richard Madden...

Best known for playing Robb Stark in the acclaimed HBO drama series 'Game of Thrones', Richard Madden's first acting experience came as a child when he joined a local drama group at the age of 11 in an attempt to overcome his shyness.  His first breakthrough role came in the children's TV show "Barmy Aunt Boomerang", followed by a critically acclaimed part in an adaptation of Iain Bank's "Complicity", which involved his character being raped by Jonny Lee Miller.  Interesting start to his career aside, he then decided that all the hassle he got from his schoolmates wasn't worth it and gave up the acting lark.  As he got older, however, he realised he still wanted to act and graduated from the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in 2007.  He has won critical acclaim for his roles in theatre (most notably Romeo in Romeo and Juliet in 2007, just before he graduated, and as Callum in the 2008 stage production of Malorie Blackman's phenomenal book Noughts and Crosses - if you haven't read it you really should because it's brilliant).  Richard has also been in various film and TV roles including Sirens on Channel 4, Hope Springs on the BBC and the utterly brilliant "Worried About The Boy", an utterly brilliant BBC drama about the life of Boy George in which he played Kirk Brandon, singer of Theatre of Hate and, more recently, Spear of Destiny.

As well as all the critical acclaim for his acting, Richard was also named one of Esquire magazine's "Hottest Stars of 2010" and one of Screen International's "Stars of Tomorrow 2011" (where the hell have they been for the past few years?  Keep up, Screen International!)  More importantly, given that he's a bit of a dedicated follower of fashion, the not-at-all-hideous Mr Madden was also named "Most Stylish Male" at the Scottish Style Awards 2010, thus proving once and for all there really is something worth investigating among all those tartan kilts...I'm sorry, I'll switch my perv-switch off again now...

Actually, screw it.  I've had a bad day and he makes me feel better.  So until next Friday, I shall be perving over studying the remarkable talents of Richard Madden...

THE Most Amazing Video You Will Ever See...

One of the few benefits of having a cold and not being able to breathe properly at stupid-o-clock in the morning is occasionally discovering a complete gem of a thing in the unlikeliest places.  Last night was one of those nights...sick of coughing up my spleen and was fed up with staring at the ceiling I started channel-hopping and caught the end of an episode of Rude Tube.  Oh. My. Actual. Life.  This video...this guy is AMAZING.  You all need to watch this.  Right now...

In November 2010 Scottish street trials cyclist Danny MacAskill decided to cycle from his new base in Edinburgh back to his home village, Dunvegin on the Isle of Skye.  Now I've made the trip from Edinburgh to Dunvegin and it's absolutely gorgeous, although I was on a minibus when I did it, but Danny decided that merely cycling from A to B was dull and not for the likes of him.  So he decided to do the whole journey as one long stunt ride, using his bike to jump on and off pretty much everything he came across.  It. Is. Ridiculous, and yet completely brilliant all at the same time.  You really have to see it to believe it...

Get Your Frocks Off, Baby!!

It's January, which means several things.  First, I will get a cold.  Check.  Second, the weather will be mardy and arsy. Check.  And thirdly, movie awards season swings into full-on fashionista hysteria.  Oh, and gives out some awards, or something.  But seriously, who focuses on the awards when there's fashion going on?!!

This year's Oscar nominations were announced today and, as always, I have high hopes for not only the awards themselves but for the red carpet catwalk beforehand.  I think The Artist will do incredibly well in all its nominated spots and, although I suspect Meryl Streep might be sashaying off with the little bald man for Best Actress, I personally am willing Michelle Williams to nab it for her role as Marilyn Monroe in "My Week With Marilyn".  Not only was the film sensational but she herself was phenomenal - I think she's a hugely underrated actress at the best of times but I am crossing everything I have that come the big day she will triumph.  I'll do whatever kind of voodoo I need to ensure this happens...

Come Oscar time, however, I hope Michelle has a suitably Marilyn-esque dress.  Her choice for the Golden Globes was simple, chic and understated, but she needs to pull out the big guns if she's going to compete on the carpet at the Academy Awards.  What I love about Michelle Williams is she dressed in whatever she seems comfortable in, yet she always looks so gorgeous when you see her...

 *sigh*  Just fabulous...

So since the Golden Globes have already happened, lets take a quick fly-by-night glance of some of my favourite front-line frocks.  These ladies dressed to impress at the Golden Globes; with Bafta and Oscar on the horizon, it's going to be time to pull out the really big guns...

Shailene Woodley looked absolutely stunning in her Marchesa frock.  I might steal this...

Kate Winslet could, of course, wear a bin bag and still look like a total glamour-puss. With curves, thank you very much...I swear this woman can do no wrong in my eyes; even if you were to tell me she murdered a thousand kittens a week to make her knickers I could probably find some way to excuse her.  She stole my heart in Titanic (sorry, Leo, although you were cute too), and it's been girl-crush central ever since...

Emma Stone's Lanvin dress is another one I'm thinking of 'borrowing'...

Tilda Swinton was as quirky and gorgeous as always...

...while the always-adorable Zooey Deschanel went from girl next door to green goddess in a flash.

The one outfit I am looking forward to come Oscar night is Bérénice Bejo's.  Not only is she impossibly French (and therefore impossibly chic) but her dress at the Golden Globes was stunning...

Can't wait to see how she tops that on February 26th!!

But of course no awards ceremony frock post is complete without a mention of "The Dress That Everyone Remembers Even If They Never Actually Saw It At The Time"...

Bjork, I salute you.  I don't care what anyone says, I thought you looked incredible in the swan dress.  You and I should meet up - you wear the swan, I'll wear Ducky Dress™ and we'll all have a fabulous time...

P...P...Pick Up A Penguin!

Actually, scratch that.  Put the penguin down and step away, keeping your hands where I can see them...do not make me use force...and other cop show cliches.

But seriously, what's not to love about penguins?  I mean, apart from the cold and the having to live on fish (regurgitated fish if you're a baby), and the cold and the risk of death-by-leopard-seal-or-killer-whale and the cold...did I mention the cold?  OK, so actually being a penguin pretty much sucks.  But do they care?  Nooooo, they have hours and hours of fun being all penguin-y and adorable and shiz, and besides that they make me laugh.  I can't explain what it is...well actually, part of it is the way they walk, because let's face it that is just genuinely hilarious:

Tell me you're not smiling after watching that?  Little penguin, waddling too and fro without a care in the world...it's Penguin Prozac.  Not convinced?  Try this one...

Then there's this, which I know is seriously old but makes me cackle nonetheless...

Emperor Penguins in particular have the cutest babies in the world...

ZOMG, LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!!!!!  Seriously, anyone who doesn't go "aww..." at those pictures is probably dead.  If not, they should be, because frankly that's the only excuse I'll tolerate...

And the thing I love most about penguins, besides the fact they make me laugh and therefore always cheer me up, is that they come in all different shapes and sizes, from the tall and stately Emperors to the small-but-perfect Little Penguins; from the beautifully made-up Gentoos to the mad-hair-days of the Rock Hoppers (seriously, Rock Hoppers, there's a reason you don't stick your flippers in an electric socket, you know...?)  There's a penguin to suit everyone and so if ever you feel a bit down, think of them and I guarantee you you'll be smiling before you know it.

Oh!  And I almost forgot...my favourite penguins of all are the ones who fly north for the winter, as discovered by Mr Terry Jones.  And a Python is NEVER wrong...

See?  They really are the most amazing creatures on earth...  :P

Turns Out Sometimes I AM Wrong...

Ok, so it's kind of a huge joke that I'm 'Serial Killer Girl' and if anyone wants to know anything about a particular case they should come to me cos I'm bound to know something about it, but it turns out that even I have my limits.  I am going to state, here and now, that I am admitting there is something morbidly gruesome about my fascination with the inner workings of these people's brains, and that devouring books and documentaries on the subject is in fact not normal.  I still maintain it's an academic interest but I'll confess to it being strange and perhaps a little scary to most people.

Now I've read and seen some fairly horrific things throughout the course of my studies - both at university and in my personal reading - but I draw the line at having a blog dedicated to serial killers and which not only posts crime scene photographs (including some frankly sickening ones of victims bodies in situ) but which also gives you the prison address of a well-known serial murderer so you can write to him and say hello.  Just...no.  It turns out there are lines even I won't cross...

One of the things people need to know about any serial murderer is the fact that they get off on the power and control.  If they can terrorise an entire area, or do as Ian Brady has done and remain schtum about the location of his last remaining victim's body, it's a huge power trip for them and only feeds their ego and their narcissistic personalities.  Even well known authors such as my own personal hero John Douglas, who helped develop the FBI's criminal profiling department and is a real life 'Criminal Minds' superhero, has admitted sometimes he worried that writing the books he has might contribute to the grandiose and overblown sense of self-worth these guys have; they love the fact that people are still talking about them years after they were caught and sent to prison, and any way they can insinuate themselves into investigations or perpetuate their own personal glory myth is exactly what gets their rocks off.  In an ideal world, once these people were convicted and sentenced there'd be no books, no television programmes, no 'nicknames' bestowed on them by the media - just a simple case of prison cell --> anonymity --> death behind bars, but that would also have implications for the forensic psychology field which studies serial murderers and tries to understand them, with the aim of both preventing further incidents and being able to catch them quickly before they kill again and again and again.  Finding the balance between informative study and gratuitous publicity isn't always easy, and the majority of these men (for it is mainly men) have the sociopathic and psychopathic abilities to ingratiate themselves into things long after they should have been locked down and forgotten about.  Ted Bundy, for example, offered to 'help' the Green River Task Force identify the "sort of guy" who was killing women and dumping their bodies in and around the Green River in Washington State; others have contributed to books or sold their own works of art since being behind bars.  Manipulating people is second nature to them; being in control and in charge of things is what makes their little worlds go round.  Providing the address of one of these scumbags to the whole of the fucking Internet is irresponsible and frankly deplorable; these men can smell weakness like a shark smells blood and if someone vulnerable was to write to this particular individual, he'd suss it out straight away and start playing with them.  The consequences could be catastrophic... 

Some of the posts I saw on this particular blog (which has since been reported, although I highly doubt it'll get taken down, and which I won't post the name/URL of because frankly I don't want to give it the publicity) were disgusting.  And this is me saying this, which probably gives you some idea how absolutely fucking awful this thing was to read.  Now I'm all for trying to understand how these people tick, because it makes me sleep better at night knowing there are people out there who can catch these scumbags, and I freely admit I find a lot of the cases interesting from a psychological point of view - it's so abnormal for the vast majority of people to think the way serial killers do that I'm curious to know what they were thinking when they carried out there acts, and why on earth they thought it was a good idea to do it in the first place - but I draw the bloody line at making them into folklore heroes and misunderstood, glamorous outlaws; they are sick individuals who for whatever reason - nature, nurture, whatever the hell it is - have committed unthinkable, unforgivable crimes and enjoyed doing it; even suggesting that these people are anything other than total bastards is morally bankrupt and reprehensible, if you ask me.  I'm actually not sure who concerns me most - the people asking questions like "which one is your favourite serial killer?" and "if you had to be killed by a famous serial killer which one would it be?", or the owner of the website who actually posted the questions and then answered them, as if it was some trite question like "do you prefer Edward Cullen or Jacob Whatever-His-Name-Is?"  Probably her, actually, since she's apparently studying criminology but sees nothing wrong with posting graphic images of dead victims all over the fucking Internet.

Oh, and the Football League Show has just compared someone to the Boston Strangler!  FFS, STOP IT!!  Stop making these people out to be some sort of folkloric legend worthy of continual everyday reference!!  No one goes around comparing people to "Tony the burglar doing six years for robbing me Granny"; why the hell would you use a psychopathic serial murderer on a power-trip as a cultural reference point?!!  Am I missing something here?

I realise I may come across as hypocritical because I, after all, possess books on the subject and have seen a few documentaries, but I don't go around singing their praises to the skies as if they were heroes.  And if I ever do start doing that, you have my permission to either get me sectioned or put a bullet through my brain because I will have passed the point of no return to normal humanity.  And the one thing I keep coming back to, probably because the first books I ever read on the subject were by John Douglas and he takes great pains to keep the victims in the readers mind at all times, is that every single one of these monsters is only 'famous' because they killed a number of innocent people for no reason (curiosity or because it's how they get their rocks off is not and never will be a valid reason to my mind).  It may be freaky that I can name several victims of serial murderers the way some people can reel off the 1966 World Cup winners, but at least I'm actually sparing a thought for the innocent men, women and children who were murdered, which is more than the likes of these bastards ever did (again, reliving what they did to their victims for sexual/other gratification is not remembering the victims).  It's not the serial killers that need their names bandied around, it's the innocents whose lives they took who ought to be remembered...

Ugh, I wanted to do a nice happy post about penguins and then I started trawling the Internet and now look what I've done...ranted.  Penguins tomorrow, I think.  Definitely.  This needs a cheery-uppy end ideally, but posting random penguin pictures seems disrespectful in light of the end of the previous paragraph.  Definitely happy thoughts tomorrow...

You Win...Or You Die...

This is going to be a very, very short post because I can't actually contain my stupid fangirly squealing long enough to type anything deep and meaningful today.  Basically, Game of Thrones series 2 will air in the UK on Sky Atlantic very, very soon - April 2nd, to be exact, the day after it airs in the USA.  So hopefully we can expect more of this:

More of this:



A good dose of this:



And LOTS of this:

Actually, I could literally watch a whole 10 hour series of Tyrion kicking Joffrey's arse without feeling too unhappy about it...in fact so long as they sneak in the odd moment like these (photos below) alongside all the slapping, I'm happy...

In fact the only thing I will DEFINITELY miss about series 2 is Jason Momoa sending shivers down my spine by doing THIS:

Oh. My. Actual. Gods.  I don't care that this wasn't in the books.  I don't care that Dothraki wouldn't know a haka if it jumped up and bit them in the arse.  Oh. My. Actual. GODS.  It's enough to make a girl want to be sold to a horselord...

Friday Lust List...

It's getting more and more difficult to decide who to put on the Lust List post each week, you know, and we're only in week three!!  Mainly because my Little Black Book - from whence the LL originates - is bulging at the seams.  What can I say; I'm shallow.  But frankly when the world is grim and grey and full of depressing words like 'recession' and 'unemployment' and 'US Republican Presidential Nominees'...well, sometimes a twinkly pair of eyes, a mysterious smile and a not-unattractive face/body/combination thereof is all we have to get us through the day.  This is my excuse, anyway...

Now the GBF has already expressed complete and utter shock that I haven't literally plastered the entire blog in Richard Madden and Kit Harington pictures.  It's early days.  Today, however, I bring you the talented, twinkly-eyed and not-at-all-unattractive Mr Michael Fassbender...

The very first film I ever saw Michael in was 'Hunger', a visceral, violent and ultimately disturbingly brilliant debut film of Steve McQueen, which is about the 1981 hunger strikes in the Maze Prison in Northern Ireland.  Michael Fassbender played Bobby Sands, hero and martyr of the Republican movement, and it was one of the most captivating performances I've ever seen.  Well, actually, the very very first time I saw him was in 300, but I had no idea it was the same guy.  As Stelios he was one in a cast of, um, three hundred, but in Hunger he was the heart and soul of the film and it was an award-winning performance.  If you haven't seen the film I really recommend it - it isn't easy viewing in any way, shape or form, but it's worth every single second of it.  After Hunger his movie career took off and he's been in everything from Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds to the X-Men reboot (X-Men: First Class).  He's currently starring in McQueen's second film, Shame, in which he plays a sex addict.  Three guesses what my next trip to the movies is going to involve...

Michael Fassbender: for services to weak knees, twinkly eyes and incredible film roles, I salute you.  Congratulations.  You have made the Lust List...

Sirens...

So for those of you unfortunate enough to know me well, you may have realised that my once-great (though terribly one-sided) love affair with the Finnish band Nightwish is coming to an end.  I have to reiterate this has absolutely nothing to do with the arrival of Anette Olzon, who replaced former front-woman Tarja Turunen in 2005; I think Anette has a beautiful voice and could do great things in music.  There are three songs on the new album – Turn Loose the Mermaids, Slow Love Slow and The Crow, the Owl and the Dove – where Anette simply shines; if she was given the opportunity to do this more often, I wouldn’t be screaming obscenities in their general direction.  It’s not Anette.  No, the problem I have with Nightwish is the ridiculous, overblown, ‘chuck-the-kitchen-sink-at-it’ mentality Tuomas Holopainen seems to have been working towards since about, oh I don’t know, the ‘Once’ album, maybe?  There were times listening to the new album ‘Imaginaerum’ when I struggled to hear Anette above the massive orchestral and choir noise, never mind hear the bass or guitars.  Occasionally Tuomas seems to remember he’s, y’know, in a band not an orchestra and chucked us a bone with a mini-guitar-solo here and there, but frankly Emppu could have stayed home watching the Moomins and I don’t think Tuomas would have noticed.  Not.  Good.

Coupled with the end of this once-beautiful friendship is the terribly sad news that Nicole Bogner, who was once the singer with the Austrian band Visions of Atlantis, passed away earlier this month at the ridiculously-young age of 27 after a long illness.  I got into VoA because of Nightwish – discovering I liked this whole ‘symphonic metal with female vocals’ genre I ate up as many bands of this type as I possibly could – and although I’d never class them as my favourites I do own the first two albums, which Nicole sang on and which I occasionally still listen to.  They might be cheesy, but Nicole had a great voice and when she sings ‘Winternight’ (from the second album) I get goosebumps even now.  And of course Amy Winehouse, another of my favourite singers, also passed away at the age of 27 last year.  Amy’s death was perhaps not as shocking as Nicole’s but it was tragic nonetheless, and listening to her albums now only reminds me what a shocking waste of talent her death meant.

It was while I was adding Amy’s posthumous album ‘Lioness: Hidden Treasures’ to my trusty mp3 player that I realised how many of the albums on there feature female singers.  This isn’t some intentionally-feministic statement (“I won’t listen to bloody men singing about things!” etc) – I love Motley Crue, ffs; no self-respecting ‘Feminazi’ would be caught dead listening to ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ whereas I know all the words and sing it proudly – but it did get me thinking about the female singers I love, the ones I’ve recently discovered, and the huge difference in musical genres they come from.  Quite how I go from the death-growls of Angela Gossow to the pop-princess vocals of Christina Perri via a bewildering array of symphonic-metal-sopranos and the likes of Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday and Aretha Franklin, with a quick detour to the frankly unclassifiable voice of Katie-Jane Garside, is beyond me; I fully appreciate that my musical taste can best be classified as “weird”, but jumping from one to the other is definitely strange.  That said, however, I refuse to hear a word said against any of them.  I’m all for everyone having disparate tastes, but just try rubbishing Sarah Jezebel Deva to me – I’ll turn into a vicious harpy before your very eyes.  (Actually, now that I think about it…I’m quite even-tempered about most of my favourite singers, even if people mock me for liking them, but no one slags off Sarah in my hearing and gets away with it).

So here are some of the female singers currently making me dance like a lunatic around my bedroom/on the way to work: Alicia Keys; Amanda Palmer (Dresden Dolls); Amy Studt; Amy Winehouse; Anette Olzon (Nightwish); Angela Gossow; Annie Lennox (solo and Eurythmics); Annlouice Loegdlund (Diablo Swing Orchestra); Aretha Franklin; Beth Ditto (Gossip); Beth Rowley; Billie Holiday; Birdy; Candia (Inkubus Sukkubus); Carly Simon; Caro Emerald; Cerys Matthews (Catatonia/solo career); Charlene Soraia; Christina Aguilera; Christina Perri; Claire Maguire; Debbie Harry (Blondie); Emily Ovenden (Celtic Legend/Pythia); Etta James; Floor Jansen (After Forever/ReVamp); Florence Welch (Florence and the Machine); Imelda May; Isobel Campbell; Janis Joplin; Jessie J; Joan Baez; Joni Mitchell; Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeah's); Kate Bush; Katie-Jane Garside (Queen Adreena/Ruby Throat); Keedie; KT Tunstall; Kylie (shuddup - Kylie's bloody brilliant!); Lady Ellen (Abney Park); Lisa Johansson (Draconian); Liv Kristine Krull (Leaves Eyes); Lykke Li; Natasha Khan (Bat For Lashes); Nicola Roberts; Nina Hagen; Paloma Faith; PJ Harvey; Plumb; Regina Spektor; Rumer; Ruslana; Sarah Jezebel Deva (Angtoria as well as her solo stuff); Sharon den Adel (Within Temptation); Shirley Manson (Garbage); Simone Simons (Epica); Stevie Nicks; Tarja Turunen (Nightish/solo, although her NW stuff is better); Tori Amos; and Vibeke Stene (ex-Tristania).

Phew!  Ladies, I salute you for your talent, your longevity (in several cases) and your, erm, 'oddness' (in several others).  Some of you I salute for being so inspiring, others for creating bloody good pop songs for dancing round handbags to.  Mostly I salute you for making music which inspires and moves me; music which will live on long after you yourselves have passed away.  Some of you already have, some of you are still with us and, I hope, have a good few years rocking still left to do.  But whatever happens, as the tragic death of Nicole Bogner has proved, the music will always live on...