Boyz II Hen

The times they’re a-changing – and here’s why: on Saturday night, I went to a hen night. The thing is, I wasn’t the only bloke there. And the interesting part: the hen was male, as was his maid of honour (see picture).



Anyway, the recent introduction of civil ceremonies means everyone can marry everyone and so next weekend my old housemate Mike is tying the knot with his boyfriend Nick. This is why on Saturday I found myself drinking red wine through a penis-shaped straw, and making raucous jokes about the groom’s, er, equipment. Although how I ended up at a house party in Marylebone dancing to Smooth Criminal at 5am is less clear.

This being very much an "occasion", as opposed to your average night out, there was emotion all round, and much clinking of glasses. I for one was particularly moved by the speed at which Mike saw off his enormous triple gin and tonic. Good times.

More pics here

Boom Shaka Lak

Yesterday I interviewed West Ham goalkeeper Shaka Hislop. We mainly talked about his work for Show Racism the Red Card, an organisation which sends footballers into schools to educate kids about racism and asylum seekers. Hislop says he hasn't experienced much racism, which somehow seems to make his involvement in the campaigns more admirable for its altruism.

Later he mentions that he has been on the receiving end of racial abuse: one was being called "distasteful names" by visiting fans outside the ground at Reading, one was "just some kids out in the street" yelling abuse. Hislop shrugs them both off ("nothing too dramatic"), but won't look me in the eye while he's talking about them.

Also asked about his ex-teammate Paolo Di Canio, who used to be "a very good friend". When Di Canio used the Nazi salute during a match, Hislop condemned him publicly. Di Canio's ridiculous excuse was, "I'm a fascist, not a racist," while Italian prime minister Silvio de Berlusconi defended him, saying, "Di Canio is an exhibitionist. His salute didn't have any significance. He's a good lad." Having previously gotten on well with Di Canio, Hislop says he was both surprised and disappointed by his actions, describing the act as "diabolical." They haven't spoken since.

This year's World Cup tournament will feature Hislop's goalkeeping, as he puts on the gloves for Trinidad and Tobago's first World Cup appearance. They're in the same first round group as England, so there'll be no avoiding them. Hislop's description of what will surely be one of the biggest football events of his life was wonderfully understated: he said it would be "good fun".

Pandora: there is hope

Loathe as I am to put external links on this blog that don't feature myself, this time I just can't avoid it. Pandora is the best site I've seen in ages. A lethal combination of predictability and unpredictability and a great way to find songs you'll like but haven't heard before, wrapped up in an interface that can only be described as "sweet as a nut".

The Notorious VEG

The five fruit a day theorem causes me no end of pain. It’s a daily challenge of Herculean proportions. Or: it totally does my head in.

Sarah manages to reach the target constantly; she has the advantage of being vegetarian, but I still don’t understand how she does it. I mean, be serious, when are you supposed to eat these five fruit and veg? Here are some things which I think should count as one portion:

• A glass of vodka and orange
• Five minutes of apple juggling
• A packet of Fruit Pastilles
• Meat

Scribbling on Scarlett

You probably didn't know that I camped out at the Golden Globes with my easel and paintbrushes. But I did.

Scarlett Johansson at the Golden Globes

Messed with in Artrage

A letter of complaint

Some readers have suggested that this blog is getting too highbrow, and that perhaps it's time to return to the days when I wrote about crisps and other more mundane matters. Well kids, this is your lucky day, because I just started eating a packet of crisps so hideous that it made me put pen to paper in disgust. By the way, it feels really strange to sellotape up a half-eaten packet of Roysters and then put it in a big envelope.


Dear Sir / Madam,

I'm writing to complain about a packet of your Royster's T-Bone Steak crisps I purchased from Oxford News, 78 Oxford Street, London today. Most of the crisps tasted stale, with none of the crunch I'd expect from the usually reliable Roysters brand. I was disappointed, but not devastated. That was until I reached the middle of the pack, where I came across a lump of uncooked crisp material welded together, looking like a mutant life form originating from a galaxy far from our own.

The fact that Roysters now seem to be available in only one flavour should surely improve quality, but the enclosed evidence disproves this theory dramatically, and tragically.

Anyways, the half-eaten packet is enclosed. Hope you have more fun with it than I did.

Yours sincerely,
Will Parkhouse

enc

All the places I haven't been to

Pretty cool, this. Saw it on Mimi in NY's blog (she's a Brit journo-writer in Noo Yoik, who does some stripping on the side. Good blog). You tick the places you've been and it turns it into a world map, so you can weep at how ill-travelled you are. I sneakily included Morocco, because I'm going there in March, and Africa was looking a bit grey.

Click here to create your own visited countries map

Blue Strawberries

Apocalypse Bau(er)

Watched the first couple of episodes of 24 series 2 last night. One of Tony Almeida's first lines was "Jack Bauer? He's inactive." I'm watching this and thinking, Almeida, you're so full of shit, Bauer's blatantly not inactive, he couldn't be inactive even if he was six feet under. But then cut to Bauer and he's wearing a lumberjack jacket and sporting a thick ginger beard. I'm like, Tony, you were right, this guy's, like, totally washed up. Then Jack goes home and curls up on the sofa clutching a photo of his dead wife.

It's a testament to both the plot development speed of 24 and Jack Bauer's tendencies to go totally mental that 15 minutes later (this is real-time, remember), Jack has not only returned to CTU and shot a suspect in the chest with no provocation, but has also sawn the head off the corpse with a hacksaw. (Brilliantly, when boss George Mason protests, Jack accuses Mason of "never getting his hands dirty".) About half an hour later, he's managed to break some guy's ankle with his bare hands, and can barely disguise the "I haven't done that in ages"-style glee on his face. "Jack's back," says one of the terrorist goons. Indeed.

Artist impression

Hey look, I’ve become a watercolour painter without any formal training! Hurrah!

The Stockwell Flats, watercolour

Remixed in Artrage