Prize Lottery

Ha! Although I'm loathe to defend Orange (what with working for them and everything), novelist Tim Lott's description of the loveable communication giant's literary prize - awarded to women writers only - as "discriminatory, sexist and perverse" stinks of sour grapes of wrath.

The Lottster's clearly sore after Private Eye described the prize he chairs - the Prince "nope, me neither" Maurice prize - thus:

"The Prince Maurice prize for literary love stories... allows seeming chairman in perpetuity Tim Lott to invite chums and other clubbable novelists to conduct the judging in a five-star hotel in Mauritius - where the winner can stay for a fortnight. Among Lott's 2008 panel is Irvine Welsh, a connoisseur of luxury hotels and avid log-roller whose influence can perhaps be discerned in the shortlist's inclusion of his pal and Cape stablemate Ewan Morrison (whose 'love story' is about wife-swapping) and the fishy presence of three books - no other publisher has more than one - from the small Scottish indy Canongate, to whose collection Children of Albion Rovers Welsh and shortlistee James Meek were contributors."

Tarred with the same Brush

So, Basil Brush, eh? I always knew he was a Gypsy-hating racist. It just goes to show: you can never trust foxes. I bet he eats swans too.

Fifteen years old and still utterly true

Blobby, Mr Blobby, if only you could make us understand
Blobby, Mr Blobby, your influence will spread throughout the land

His philosophy of life will steer him through
And as far as he can see
He's the same as you and me
There's nothing in the world he cannot do.

No hill too high, no desert too dry
No road too long, no tide too strong
No bridge too far, he's got a car
No slope to steep, no thought too deep
No star too bright, no squeeze too tight
No tale too tall, no cat too cool
No bass too low, he'll give it a go
No end to his talents, no sense of balance

Blobby, Mr Blobby, when disaster strikes you never get depressed
Blobby, Mr Blobby, you'll always prove that Blobby is the best

Although he's unconventional in hue
His philosophy of life will steer him through
And despite the limitation
Of his poor co-ordination
He knows he'll show the world a thing or two

(Blobby, blobby, blobby)

Blobby, Mr Blobby, you're the guy who puts the do in do or die
Blobby, Mr Blobby, your deeds are guaranteed to stupefy

No ride too rough, no test too tough
No act too slick, no race too quick
No shot too hot, he'll hit the spot
No style too chic, no joke too weak
No chance too slim, no fate too grim
No foe too strong, no odds too long
No price too high, he's put some by
No dodge, no doubt, no backing out

Blobby, Mr Blobby, if humanity's a question of degree
Blobby, Mr Blobby, stay loyal to your Blobby pedigree
Blobby, Mr Blobby, you're the one who bears the pink and yellow crest
Blobby, Mr Blobby, you'll always prove that Blobby is the best.

2008 = SFA + BB + JD > LCD x 50

Oh wow. A dancey collaboration between Super Furry Animal Gruff Rhys and serial genre-masher Boom Bip not appetising enough for you? How about if said collaboration turned out to be a concept album based on the life of John DeLorean? And how about if said concept album is already in with a chance of being this year's Sound of Silver?

Say hello to Neon Neon. Now press play.

Nice garage, Kennington

Revelation

Whilst reading Julian Cope's Japrocksampler: How the Post-war Japanese Blew Their Minds on Rock 'n' Roll, it occurs to me that I have never heard the word "archipelago" said aloud.

Lessons learned from... There Will Be Blood

Never go bowling with Daniel Day-Lewis.

The perfect dinner party

Two hours ago I was in a room with Stephen Hawking, Terry Pratchett and Julian Rhind-Tutt. How odd.

Lessons learned from... Juno

Orange Tic Tacs are romantic.

Meeting Perez Hilton

Interviewed US celebrity blogger Perez Hilton the other day. Here's what happened.