Monday, July 04, 2005

Live 8 Background Waffle.

"It's two o'clock and welcome to the greatest rock and roll show in history" announced Jonathan Ross on BBC2. Actually it was more like 5 minutes past, but it hardly mattered. The British TV audience was going to have to ready itself for about eight hours with the floppy-haired yellow-suited Ross who apparently had: ' Asked them (the BBC) for a suit in a colour in keeping with the African theme.' Which put into context the hypocrisy of all the later sniffiness about Mariah Carey's diva-ness with her pampered puppies, water-tipple demands and twitterings for mike stands for the kiddies. Put together with Elton John's answer to a question about traffic delays to which he replied: 'I arrived by helicopter,' an answer that showed the disdain of someone who has long forgotten about how normal people live their lives let alone the starving, and was delivered as if it was a wise choice rather than a highly privileged one; made it obvious that most of these buggers are bit dotty.

And here's the BBC's presenter - soon to be as rich as another JR, being furnished with his clothes for his non singing all expenses paid gig, with absolutely no expense spared. None indeed. Ross was said to have bagged £50.000 for this stint which, though a long gig, didn't really amount to much more than sitting on his arse for a duration rather similar to an average days work for most of us. And he brought his kids with him, who were indulged with VIP tickets, booty bags and, no doubt, champagne flavoured lollies. The delightful little wossies were there being happy-snapped on Ross' lap with the 'wock and woll' stage in the background. And his theatrically painted and baby-doll frilled pneumatic wife was there too - *whistle* no wonder Ross was able to declare on his chat show after blagging a feel of one Susannah Constantine's luscious orbs that his wife's were bigger. Though I'm being cruel here because as far as I know she stayed off camera. For once.

We were quickly introduced to his two female assistants, the first one was initially announced as just 'Fern' during a kind of "where are you?" camera searching piece as it swirled into the crowded celeb and media tent and caravan set up, and for a moment, I was looking for an even more comely figure than Mrs Ross in the shape of the hugely assetted Fern Brittain. Surely not - she's a game bird this Fern but Rock cakes are her thing, not Rock Chickery. I was right, it wasn't, it was little, cotton-thread-thin Fearne Cotton who at one point, during her pre-concert rolling rovings (the other Fern would have rolled better) was shamelessly chatted up whilst on air by the cheekiest chappie to have held a microphone since Norman Wisdom ... Robbie Williams. As part of his charm-fest with impish face and Smart Alec delivery he declaimed that the two aims of the day - of roughly equal weight - were "to make poverty history" and "to get Robbie laid." Another nutter who's been allowed to lose touch with reality - though I'm beginning to wonder what reality actually is these days. If Robbie had been a passing laddo he'd have been given short shrift I have no doubt. Being a celeb though he was left optimistic that he and Fearne would be getting it together before he returned to his luxurious pad in Los Angeles leaving Fearne a blurred memory melded with another milked audience. A broken heart in-waiting to match the broken colourings of her skunky hair.

More on-the-move 'meetwhospassingcelebs.' This time it's Jo Wiley the other roving dolly settling for Johnny Vaughan. "Who he?" I hear you say. Time was this John might have vied with Ross and Chris Evans for the top presenting jobs. As it was I think Vaughan was there reporting for the Reading Chronicle and as such couldn't really get away with snatching the mic from Jo and going into mock-interview mode as if to say: " We're the same, you and me, were both here celebrities interviewing celebrities, ain't it coool?" Erm not quite Johnny, you had your chance and blew it big time. Jo fairly smile-hissed as she retook the mic and looked longingly around for somebody famous to talk to. "Beat-it-buster-has-been" she nearly said. "If you'd have been half good at this malarky you'd be up there with John-boy, or carousing with the ginger-binger over at Radio 2, talking to crowds big enough to fill a continent instead of running a blog and chittering to an audience the size of a continental quilt.

Fearne spotted Peaches, round about the time Peter Kay was riffing drunkenly with Ross in the pod. Kay's a tea-total except for the odd baileys, "As a deserrrt!" protests Kay when challenged as to his TT status by Wossy. Ross struggling to handle Kay, seeks to break off the interview and concentrate on the interview with Sir Bob's middle daughter and send the unruly Kay packing - Ross' panicky face seemed to have 'I'm the comedy god of this pod get him out of here' etched all over it. "Hope you're taping this mum!" Kay shouts at the camera, hoping his mother will take heed. It was classic fill-in for Kay who, if not pissed was certainly pissed off sitting there being ignored. It was hardly surprising he was peevishly acting up as John boy had dragged his little girlies into camera shot - no, not Jo and Fearne - for photographs of himself and the Live 8 backdrop. Men who can't forget about being daddy for five minutes are always a bit of a trial for everyone else within groaning distance.

Oh and there was a concert. And some pretty good music. And a Hell of a good cause.

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