En Petit Comité

Tócate los pies

Tócatelos con la lista, que aqui el M.C. nos trae desde la isla esa que esta enfrente de Francia. En principio iba a responderle con un comment. Pero es que hay tela pa cortar....

Como dijo Jack el Destripador: Vamos por partes

Super en contra de Jamie Oliver!!! Propongo a Karlos Arguiñano. Rico Rico y con fundamento.

Qué es eso de Moazzam Begg??? Aqui si los presidiarios son héroes, está claro que el heroe es El Lute.

Richard Branson???? Por Favor!!! Richard Branson???? ¿¿¿pero es que los ingleses no viajan en los trenes de Virgin???? Richard Branson es un HIJO DE PUTA con las 10 letras una detras de otra.

Bono - Rock-star activist. Sí, claro. Y Ana Belén y Victor Manuel y la Pilar Bardem y el Juan Echanove. Y yo me abro las venas a lo largo.

Elizabeth II - Queen. En esto estoy de acuerdo. Tiene los genes mas recesivos del mundo. Porque con lo fea que es ella, mira que guapos le han salido los nietos. Sobre todo el Harry (¿será que no es nieto suyo?)

Bill Clinton. De estuco. Me quedo de estuco. Joder, que mal andan las cosas en America, que te hacen una mamada y eres un heroe...

Anna Politkovskaya. Que no es Anna Kurnikova.

Jimmy Carter. Será porque es el unico presidente de los EEUU que sale en casi todos los capitulos de los Simpson?

Prince Charles. Si, si, es el que presta los cuernos al ciervo de Glennfidich.

Hugo Chávez. Si es por subir a los sinverguenzas a la categoria de heroes, me quedo con El Dioni.

David Attenborough..... Amigo Felix....

En resumen: Rule, Brittania. Y se les ha olvidado el mayor heroe de la historia de la humanidad. Papuchi, El Padre de Julio Iglesias. (no-te-jode!)

50 Heroes of our time

La revista The New Statesman tiene una lista de los 50 heroes de nuestro tiempo, personas que trabajan para un mundo mas libre, democratico y igual, sin usar violencia.

Es una lista muy interesante (incluye a Bob Geldof y Elizabeth II), y el numero 6 es un persona muy importante para los derechos de los gays en Inglaterra: Peter Tatchell

Cada vez que escucho a Wagner

me entran ganas de invadir Polonia.

Para una vez que conozco a un tio interesante (y guapo) resulta que esta locamente enamorado de un Polaco de Polonia que reside allí mismo.

Me da igual. Los Polacos de Polonia no tienen derechos adquiridos sobre el producto nacional. Estoy super a favor de la politica de Evo Morales de nacionalizar lo que merezca la pena. Así que le van a ir dando por Varsovia.

Voy a ser malo. Más que malo, mala. Estoy por hacerme un abrigo con la piel de 101 cachorritos. Que es que una cosa es que nos quiten los fondos de cohesion y otra es que nos quiten la mismisima cohesion. Con la falta que a mi me hace. Que se empieza asín y se acaba dándole Perejil al vecino.

Hasta aquí podiamos llegar. Esto ya pasa de...

...en la imagen: Ral 8017 "Castaño Oscuro"

Sunday in the park with George

I thought Stephen Sondheim was dead.
I mean, you talk to me about the guy who wrote the lyrics of West Side Story, and I assume that he was in his fifties when he did it, and so that now he is long gone.
Well, no, Sondheim is not dead! That is quite a good news really.
One of his musicals has actually just opened at the Wyndham's theatre in central London, after being revived last year at the Chocolate Menier Factory: Sunday in the park with George.
It tells the story of French pointillist painter George Seurat, and the creation of his painting Un dimanche apres midi sur l'ile de la Grande Jatte.
The new production is very inventive, with a big white room and a projection of the painting without its characters working as the background, as George is painting his lover Dot ("dont move your lips!"), or his mother, or random people.
The music is, I guess, pure Sondheim, though I have no idea what it means.
All I know is that the first act went like that, the second even faster, that the tunes (and there were many!) were well carried by the cast, that I laughed a lot and I suddenly had a rush of "frisson" (as we say in french) at the end, as the whole cast sung "on an ordinary sundaaaaay"...
If any of you come to London this summer, let me know, I would quite enjoy to see it again with you.

Queen of Fado?

Fui a ver a la cantante portuguesa Misia en concierto en el Queen Elizabeth Hall en Abril, pero no hable del concierto por alguna razon.
It may be time to mention it.
The fados were obviously good, but what I really enjoyed where the tangos and boleros she sprinkled here and there, and that are included in her most recent album, Drama Box.
There is nothing like a song going "Cada atardecer, miro la puerta, ese espacio donde vas a aparecer, ese momento, te considero tan egoistamente mio" is there??
The moment for me was when she sung the rather well known "los Mareados". My favourite singer, the Argentinian Mercedes Sosa, sang it quite powerfully and I was quite moved on hearing it live like that, unexpectedly. "Esta noche beberemos, porque ya no volveremos a vernos mas. Hoy vas a entrar en mi pasado... en el pasado de mi vida"
And after that, a tango full of passion and verve and pride: "yo soy Maria, de Buenos Aires, si en este barrio la gente pregunta quien soy, pronto lo sabran!"
It is funny, it reminded me of a guy en mi pasado.

The elephant...

the centre of London lived to the quiet rythm of a gigantic mechanic elephant this WE. Despite the rain (but the sun came out too!), thousands of us followed him and his friend (a giant puppet girl) around the streets of St James (near Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, St James Park).

It proved a very popular event, except with drivers, as roads were closed as the elephant went along.

It was slow, yes, but how magical! I was quite moved by the crowd around me, a sparkle in their eyes. I certainly hadnt been surprised by a mysterious, magical thing like that for a while. Since childhood perharps? The show was criticised as "infantilist", but if infantilism means not being jaded, and looking at something speechless because it is magical and beautiful, then be it.

de una pagina de contactos

el tio escribe:

"Tread gently on anyone who looks at you sideways.Wear sturdy socks, learn to grow out of medium underwear and, if you must lie about your age, do it in the other direction: tell people you`re ninety-seven and they`ll think you look really great.Never eat food that comes in a bucket. Boo joggers. Don`t work-out, work-in. Play the banjo. Sleep with somebody you like. Eat plenty of Liquorice Allsorts. Try to do a job you like. Never turn down an opportunity to shout, ?FUCl< them all!? at the top of your voice. Avoid bigots of all descriptions. Don`t wear tight underwear on aeroplanes. Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes, After that, who cares? ... He`s a mile away and you`ve got his shoes. Avoid people who say they know the answer, keep the company of people who are trying to understand the question. Don`t pat animals with sneaky eyes.Avoid giving LSD to guide dogs.Campaign against blue Smarties.
Go to Glasgow at least once

lookin for a tall partially sighted man, with little or no sense of humour. Personal hygene is no issue - I have a halitosis fetish. I have always found men with ingrowing toe nails a turn on. Hunchbacks or those with a Goitre are a definite +++

Disclaimer
"The owner of this page accepts no responsibility for fits, siezures, vomiting, mental torture, insomnia, or any other detrimental factor related to the viewing of this profile."

STOP PRESS. I have been asked to endorse the "Visit England Campaign", which I am more than glad to do; for England is a beautiful country full of little streams, fragrant hedgerows, water meadows, thatched houses, Curry Houses and tastefully decorated Kebab vans. I would like to point out that there are many wonderful things to do and experience in England- I am one of them- please Private for details, opening hours and information on group discount.

En resumen. Es mi tipo. Esgraciadamente vive en Aylesbury, Inglaterra

££ viva Gordon Brown ££

Este fin de semana, fui a mi viejo piso y habia una carta del Inland Revenue (le Tresor Public en francais... y en espanol... los Impuestos??), y me devolvian 1500 euros porque habia pagado demasiado impuestos cuando llegue a Inglaterra hace un ano y medio.
Era casi como si hubiera ganado el Gordo, pero esta vez me lo merecia, porque este dinero me lo habian robado (aunque yo no lo sabia).
Life can be pretty amazing, cant it?