Turkey trouble

Blogging is easiest when you've something to rant against. But generally I'm quite jolly at the moment and nothing's really got my goat, apart from Bernard fucking Matthews and his dubious turkey-farming practices. For Matthews its a few weeks bad publicity and a minor dip in sales - he survived relatively unscathed from the fondly remembered 'turkey twizzlers' fiasco, and I expect he'll do the same again. What the public doesn't realise is that its the birder in the field who is stuck in the firing line; thanks to this poultry-rearing prick I now have a statistically higher risk of death by goose shit than I do of winning the lottery, and I never thought I'd have to say that.





Matthews in happier times: They're flu-tiful.


Talking of which, I was having a browse on The Sun's website the other day (as you do) and found myself drifting onto Mystic Meg's page. I was interested to see what the old hag is up to now the lottery work's dried up. Astrology - the revered art of star-gazing - may have a long and ancient history, harking back to the systems of celestial omens championed in Ancient Greece and Persia, but that doesn't necessarily make it anything other than bunkum. Having said that, I couldn't help having a look for, er, research purposes:


You have the brilliant ideas and the staying power to see plans through this time. Your ruling planet Pluto will also help you see the difference between being reckless and chasing opportunities. Single? A different kind of love could be on offer when a pal plays matchmaker.


Meg - who in a less enlightened age would have been burnt at the stake - then helpfully offers to tell me more on what the future holds if I ring her exclusive hotline (at only 75p a minute). Thank goodness for Pluto anyway. Luckily I'm rarely accused of being reckless when chasing opportunities, and I have this insignificant planetoid - so pointless its actually been demoted from planetary status - to thank for that. More disturbing is the 'different kind of love' on offer. Answers on a postcard on what that might be. Whatever it is, I suspect its going to chafe a bit.




Mystic Meg: studies Uranus.


Delving deeper into the hatstand world of the tabloid horoscope, it turned out that The Mirror's effort (author unnamed) was far more pleasing, and they even find it in their hearts to mention their greatest rivals. Hard to find anything too controversial here:

THE Sun's journey through the watery sign of Pisces makes this a gentle, inward time. Creative expression is important for you during this period, as otherwise there's a tendency to let your energy be expressed in a negative way. You know what's good for you, so make sure you devote time to this.


Meanwhile, The Express's Justin Toper (who 'trained at the renowned Faculty of Astrological Studies') goes with:

You may decide to delve deep into your pocket. But this is a day when losers sulk and love and loss go hand in hand. In truth, you couldn't possibly have predicted how lucky you would be.

I couldn't predict how lucky I'd be. Presumably this oaf Toper could have, though, if I'd rung his premium-rate number (75p per minute). Cheeky bastard.

So in conclusion, the same set of stars and planets, in the same position for all, yet three different predictions, one involving inner calm, one requiring me to flash the cash, and the other offering the tantalising prospect of no-holds-barred anal love. Is it any wonder astrology is treated with contempt? They could at least have a ten-minute huddle before going to press to compare visions, cross-reference star charts and get their sodding story straight. I say ditch this twaddle from the tabloids - the papers that made Britain great. Stick a P45 in the post and see if Mystic Meg manages to predict that.



This week's celebrity spots
A good one last week. Some chums and I were enjoying a classic publishing lunch in a Soho restaurant when we realised that comedienne Catherine Tate was feasting quietly at the next table. We spotted her, started earwigging the conversation between Tate and her agent, were spotted ourselves, and were then summarily glared at. Tate has impressive thruppenies in real life.


Recommendations
A hatful of recommendations this week.

With the French soaring (like a magnificent coquerel) at the top of the Six Nations championship table and the Welsh struggling for form at the bottom, last week's bets are looking good for a healthy return. Still suspect it might all go wrong with Wales v Italy. Never mind. This week I'm turning my attention to the ICC Cricket World Cup. The first round is pretty hopeless, with clashes such as Australia v Scotland, India v Bermuda and England v Canada hardly stirring the soul. My pick instead is West Indies to win the tournament (each way) - they've drifted out to 18/2 (Mansion), will enjoy fervent support in the first World Cup to be held on the islands, and have a straightforward qualifying group; only the combustible Pakistanis will offer any sort of challenge, and they've just been annihilated in South Africa.

Switching from the pantomime of sport to some genuine theatre, its Oscars season again. But who gives two shits about that rigged, corporate-sponsored, back-slapping, American-biased nonsense; much more fun are the Golden Raspberry's, alternative Oscars celebrating the very worst that Hollywood has to offer, which brings us full-circle back to turkeys. In the Worst Film category there can only be one winner - Little Man. Basic premise: midget jewel thief pretends to be a baby to steal a diamond from a childless couple. All manner of hilarity ensues. One of the politer reviews from the BBC sums up this new low in cinematic history neatly:

"Taken on its own terms, Little Man isn't bad. In the same way that, as diseases go, cholera is pretty darned successful."

6/4 favourite (VCbet) to scoop the least-wanted award in showbusiness - says it all.

Those Danes can rock! With an electro-twist. Check out Kiona here.

Join Commander Swift's much-needed campaign against textspeak (or is it txtspk? Who knows with these semi-literate twats) here.