Tyra Banks


A word we automatically associate with Tigers or Tyra Banks. What a lady. Not only is she a powerful young woman who wears heels bigger than your d***, she is also intelligent, sharp and fabulously silly - and I would BFF her ass any day! The thing I think I love most about her, and I’m sure many of her fans would agree, is that she doesn’t take herself too seriously. She may be a multi-millionaire Empress Regnant with assinating looks and hypnotising charm, yet she still manages to comfortaby convince us that she’s just one of our oldest, goof-ball friends having a gossip over wine with us in our livingroom. She swings from being our sister, to our mother, to our scary teacher then right back to our friendly, in-house comedian again! Not only does she engage a huge proportion of prime-time television, but so too our hearts. Being a serious ambassador for both silliness and world domination, its no surprise that this lady officially ticks my box.

In this generation I think it is extremely important for people who’s genetic heritage still ruffles some inflexible old vulture’s feathers the wrong way - be it a question of race, gender or culture - to stand up and be unignorable, not for their ASL but for the light they shed on a world still teeming with shadows. My spirit is lifted watching that girl strut her stuff, dishing out hugs and spilling out on highly sensitives issues. She is a fantastic role model for young girls and to the celebrity culture in general, which still struggles to balance its incompatible view of existentialism with authenticity. I am so proud of you tiger and can’t wait to be on your show! X

Celebrity Con

I have recently revised my plan for world-domination. Until now I have felt my two dreams were in direct opposition to each other, however, this is not the case! Part of me is a massive performer and the other a global reformer. I felt in order to make the kind of impact that matters to me I had to box my theatrical core and use it to fuel my political agenda. But imagine my elation when I realised i was following the template of history instead of accepting that my purpose fits me purrrfectly. No compremise, no curtailment and NO boxing! I don’t want to play by the corporate rules; they bore me grey, my objective is to empower the people and what better way than to take up the stage as a politial podium? In other words, I intend to become a star over night so that i can put my agenda into operation. I believe it is disgustingly easy to become famous these day, that mixed with my uncanny willpower: anything is possible! Look at the charts, and I say look specifically because what you see seems to be far more emphatic than what you hear. It’s all teenge noise with the usual 5 rhyming words about sex, betrayal and unimaginative partying being rearranged to outwit their adoring fanatic following. Have you heard Rhianna’s new “song” we found love? I feel I can confidently say: it is shite on every level. Yet all these brainwashed fans love it, yet the fact remains that it *is* AWFUL. I have liked other songs of her but sweet Jesus this is something else. I am frankly horrified by what surrounds me in the media and I intend to sort it out, first hand. So here I go.. Watch the space people, you’re dealing with a monster! X

Today I wasted my life..

Happy is he who sneezes and the whole day wobbles off, offended. I stayed at Imi’s last night.. Watched an Amy Winehouse tribute, a spot of Kardashians and then riffled on to 50 First Dates. Nothing moved me much. Although I love Amy and cried earlier in the day at some ‘life of’ material. Woke up and took hundreds of ghastly photo booth pictures of ourselves and eventually pulled out our precious reserves to claw our way Tescowards. I am currently in a limbo-rhumba with smoking. I quit years ago, it’s silly. Yet a pointless beam of my persona clings on to any degenerate opportunity that presents itself to revisit the dead. That ol’ familiar banana skin. To hell with bedbugs, no self-respecting 21st centuarian would speak of these yesteryear creatures in the same temporal valve as theyself. Nursery rhyme all you like but take it home and we splutter in discredulance. It’s a fact. A filthy, rotten old fact that these fellas are still live and well, kickin about the rustiest sheets in town. That’s all I know on the matter. Now it’s simply a choice between Tunisa (too expensive) or Italy, variously. I lag behind the obvious, looking for fag butts to tick off my list. I know I’m here but I can see my mind clearer than the smoking buildings and gridlock. My chat bobs on above the sirens.. we’re locked in trance. Me and my gab have beef, chicken and prawns to sift through, and I’m usually a veggie. That’s all I need: a space to paste my drawl.