Why only little birds should twitter freely

My current musical hero is James Arthur. I love the passion he brings to his music. He's a talented singer/songwriter who bought much needed kudos to the jaded XFactor and his eponymous debut album  consolidated these talents and proved he is definitely not from the Cowell bland hit factory. 

Unfortunately his Twitter talents have let him down. 

So many have fallen at the Twitter hurdle, most recently Peaches Geldof, who tweeted the names of women involved in the infamous Ian Watkins case. 

Tweet in haste, repent at leisure, as many tweeters have learnt to their cost when presented with court writs.  

It's only a max of 125 characters, but even this small amount can land the writer in more hot water than a Turkish bath.  

When writing anything on social media, the writer should then become the most thorough proofreader that ever existed. After all, their words are going to be recorded for posterity, for all to see. Anything that could be construed as offensive to an individual or group of people will almost certainly come back to bite them in the bum. And if the writer is famous, the more followers they will have and therefore the more potential for offending someone. And the more potential for alienating fans. 

James Arthur got into a rap battle with a rapper on Twitter.  He ended up calling this rapper an "effing queer".  He has since apologised, saying the word 'queer' was used loosely as part of a rhyme and that he didn't mean it as an homophobic slur.  However, it has been reported that he has lost fans through this and many gay groups are up in arms.  There is even a Facebook campaign trying to get ITV to stop him appearing on the XFactor this Sunday. 

The result of this is that his management have banned him from Twitter, handing his social media communication to the capable but corporately bland hands of his record label's PR team.  Which is sad, as James was one of the few stars who used social media to engage with his fans - hell, he even re tweeted one of my tweets, and I also noticed that if fans asked him to follow them, he would do, seemingly without hesitation.  Twitter will be a dull place without him but misplaced words can unwittingly hurt so many. 

Social media may have brought the world together, but it also has the power to tear us apart.  Think before you tweet!  

Are you chick lit or high brow?

Have you ever thought you might be like a literary character?

For you it might be Jane Austen's Emma or the tragic Cathy from Bronte's Wuthering Heights or even Ibsen's Hedda Gabler? 

For me, it's Bridget Jones.

Ok ok there are loads of differences: for a start I'm happily married and have been for 10 years now (to the same man) but like our Bridget, I had to kiss a lot of frogs first. 

And I don't have any children (re: Mad About the Boy) but have a house full of dogs (unlike Bridget whose first real encounter with a dog ended up with her nearly drowning it in friend's swimming pool). 

And I love fashion and can put an outfit together a darn sight better. 

So why am I like her?

Well firstly I'm very easily distracted: am writing this whilst cooking and have just realised I've forgotten to put the chops under the Georgie Foreman and everything else is now ready!!! Now that is very Bridget!

Also, Yahoo always gets me - I log onto the computer with every intention of doing some work but am instantly ambushed with Yahoo's front page and lots of pics and enticing stories to read. Two hours later am still reading the soap spoilers but now also have encyclopedic knowledge of boy bands and how to cook the perfect shepherd's Pie. But pages of work done: 0. 

We also share the same handbag. Well not literally - that would be weird! But whenever her phone goes off, usually during important meetings, she can never locate it as it's fallen to the bottom of her bag and she has to wade through bits of cheese and Sylvanian bunnies to retrieve it.

Well that always happens to me, minus the cheese and bunnies - I usually have to plough through bits of chocolate, old train tickets and dog poo bags! And like Bridge, usually the most embarrassing contents of bag i.e the dog poo bags (empty and unused hasten to add) always end up flying out and to my mortification have bits of melted choc stuck to them which looks really, really bad!

But going back to the fashion thing, I have a wardrobe full of clothes thanks to my ahem, *whispers guiltily* shopping habit, and whilst this makes me nothing like Bridget Jones, it does make me resemble another chick-lit chick - one Rebecca Bloomwood of the Shopaholic series.

It's not looking good for me is it?

Gaga goes goo-goo again!

Was really worried last night.

Was it the impending 'hurricane' that was due to 'decimate' the entire southern half of the UK overnight?

No, it was whist watching the XFactor I had to run upstairs and check my prize 1970s Barbie was still sitting on a shelf in my office as I could have sworn I saw her running around on the XFactor stage in Bridget Jones-style  knickers and an M&S bra.

And then on second look I realised it was dear old Lady Gaga.

Cringe-worthy didn't even begin to describe the spectacle that took place.  From sitting on a chair, strumming a guitar she then leapt forth, shouting something about Venus, whilst fully revealing her lack of clothing and some odd shells hanging precariously from each bra cup which eventually fell off.

To be honest, I can't remember much about the music and I think that's because, where Gaga is concerned, we're not really supposed to - her image and desire to shock are what's most important to her.

Yet I didn't feel shocked, just deeply uncomfortable at the seediness of it all.  From jumping about in her underwear and Barbie wig, she then proceeded to rip off said wig to reveal a mess of dark brown hair and got down on all fours whilst singing a different song proclaiming 'Do what you want with my body' with a manic look in her eyes.

I don't know a lot about Gaga but something tells me there's a tortured soul desperate for attention in each one of her performances which I find kind of sad and certainly not entertaining.

And funnily enough, during the ad break,they just happened to advertise her new song, 'Do what you want with my body', and it sounded so much better without the distraction of seeing her deranged and off-putting performance.  In fact so much so that it sounded practically indistinguishable from the shouty weirdness we'd just been party to on the XFactor.

Perhaps she should go back to meat dresses instead #justsaying!

At last the XFactor gets glam!

For me, the most exciting part of the XFactor began on Saturday: the live shows.

Forget the auditions which can be littered with crazy, delusional people who think they can sing but can no more hold a tune than I can surf on one foot - or two even!  These poor people are clearly put in front of the cameras to get cheap laughs, but to me it makes a mockery of the programme and I much prefer rival talent show The Voice's method of cutting to the chase and only showing those hopefuls who have got through to the final auditions.

And I say no, too to the new look Boot Camp round where each judge had six chairs and about 10 hopefuls vying for their place like a sick kind of musical chairs, the end prize being the chance to fly to a judge's 'home' somewhere exotic for yet another audition for the chance to appear on the live shows - phew am now suffering from audition exhaustion - the cure for which is of course, the live shows!

So, what is it about the live shows?

Well, it's the glamour really.  I bet you'd never have guessed that from me!  The stage sets can be magnificent, glittering, over-the-top affairs, sometimes involving fire or tickertape or both!!

The contestants are now no longer 'Average Joe Auditionees' and more potential superstars in the making.  So the whole process of getting glam is taken out of their sweaty paws and handed over to a crack team of make-up artists, hairdressers and stylists who have the best tools for the job (sometimes).  Previous series have seen some rather strange concoctions, however, this year, so far, so good!  I was particularly blown away by Sam Bailey who looked amazing - her rather limp, lifeless looking locks were transformed into glossy, cascading curls and some obviously extremely persuasive stylist had managed to extract her from her habitual leggings and t-shirt and into a black, floor-length stunner! Suddenly everyone had forgotten she was ever a prison warden as she morphed effortlessly into an A list-type-diva!

And then there's the judges.  This year there's not really the same sartorial rivalry as there has been in recent years when the two female judges were of similar ages and musical genres: think Kelly and Tulisa, Nicole and Tulisa and Danni and Cheryl.  It was clear that as the live shows progressed, so the tensions grew ever bigger as did the dresses which became so hugely brash in each woman's attempt to outdo the other.

This year of course, there's Nicole and dear old Mrs O.  Mrs O may be a lot of things but a fashion icon she isn't, and that's no disrespect to her age.  Mrs O is a rockstar wife/manager and her outfits are reflective of this, her LA lifestyle and highly exuberant personality  i.e. they are gloriously over the top and shriek "dahling" more loudly than she does herself.  Contrast this to the equally crazy but sartorially more sophisticated Ms Scherzinger and it's probable that each one feels they can relax, dress the way they want to and not worry what the other is going to wear each week.  I say it's probable....

So week one of the live shows and if there was a contest between the two female judges, then Nicole would have won it hands down.  Regular readers will know that I love, love, love floor-length evening dresses, and nothing is more glamorous than one in black and guess what: Nicole wore an amazing floor length black number which laced up at the back and had a gravity defying split that managed to be  neither tacky nor obvious - to me that was a winner and the sort of dress which would look amazing, elegant and sophisticated on any figure - so there!

Which was more than could be said for guest Ellie Goulding's frightful frock.  Designer Julien MacDonald obviously got carried away with the thought of being on Strictly when he designed this.  It was the sort of dress an  over-made-up, grimacing ballroom dancer would wear: basically a flesh-coloured body stocking with a load of sequins running from neckline to floorline on its front and back thus revealing a see-through panel down the sides which kind of hardly left anything to the imagination as she writhed around the stage.  And Twitter users showed no mercy in tweeting their exact thoughts on said dress, the overall consensus being that the over-the-top frock was a ruse to cover-up the fact she can't sing. Hmmmm.

The XFactor is back and kicking and I love it.

R.I.P Mark Darcy

Helen Fielding has played a blinder. 

In a brilliant PR move, not only has she 'leaked' a pre-publication teaser for the next instalment of the Bridget Jones saga but this 'teaser' has let slip that the much-loved Mark Darcy has shuffled off this mortal coil. 

In response to this there's been a social media mutiny and his death has even been reported on the national news! 

My first response was utter shock, followed by an immediate need to read the book!  

And it seems most of the female population will do the same, even those who swear they're not going to in some sort of misguided protest at Fielding daring to kill off such a national treasure. 

Therein lies the masterstroke by the author! Such controversy has got a nation nattering and a nail biting wait for the publication date of 10 October! 

Personally I think it would have been nicer if Darcy was still around and perhaps the story centred around him having an affair.  But nice doesn't sell millions of books.  A Bridget without her Darcy seems inconceivable but the good news is that the devillish Daniel Cleaver is still around to no doubt cause his usual sexy mischief.  

Can't wait for the 10th! 

Anyone for an arty party?

Here's the problem: it's a Thursday night and I'm fed up with the TV but pubs/bars/clubs aren't having the same intoxicating allure either.  

So what do I do?  The sum total of my sporting prowess was a hole in one at crazy golf in 1995.  So joining a sports club is an option I don't particularly want to consider - ever. 

But when a friend invited me to a private view in an art gallery in London, I was pleasantly intrigued.  Especially when coupled with the magic phrase: free drink! 

Because that's what it essentially is: a kind of party in a gallery where people can mingle over a drinkie (or 2) surrounded by beautiful pieces of art.  

So obviously my first thought was not about the logistics of how I was going to get there but the more pressing detail of what to wear (of course). 

The only private views I'd ever been to were for end-of-term shows we put on when I was an art student.  I'd never been to a proper one before; by that I mean one where the art on show was for sale and the asking price upwards of £3500 - gulp! 

A cursory look at the blurb on the invite told me that the works of art on display were sculptures. The gallery was just off Oxford St in London's West End.

So armed with this info I tried to work out the type of people who would be there, and more crucially, what they'd be wearing. 

Would such an event attract the hip, arty types of Hoxton and Shoreditch? Or would its more mainstream location draw in the conservative connoisseurs who view art more as a business investment than for its aesthetic qualies? 

Well, of course I had to wear black; it's derigeur for any art enthusiast don't you know!  And this gorgeous dress from Boohoo.com ticks all the boxes: obviously it's black, the PVC panel adds an edgy touch but the contour-hugging tailoring is both sexy and sophisticated: perfect for an evening soirée.  

But what to wear with it: it's September and the weather has turned a bit chilly so I'll need a jacket.  I don't want to wear all black; It's too obvious.  But this longline jacket from River Island adds a splash of colour yet is still cool enough to rub shoulders with the arty elite.

And these boots, also from River Island, are amazing too.  Cool, sexy and bang on trend. 

So fast forward to the evening of the do, and we're standing in a long, white room lined with beautiful sculptures - fragmented female faces with doleful expressions hinting at personal sadness and inner traumas.  

And we were the only ones there, apart from a couple of others, a man and woman both dressed almost identically in denim jackets and cargo shorts. 

Did I feel overdressed? Hell yes! 

Was I bothered?  Definitely not! I'm always overdressed - in fact I reckon my epitaph should read "Never knowingly under-dressed".   I really don't do casual, it's not a word in my vocabulary.  

However, fast forward an hour and the room was buzzing, the drinks flowing and the fashions a heady eclectic mix of Chelsea designer chic and punky art school cool.  

And then there was me dressed head-to-toe in my high st finery but of course - always with glamour! 

For a different social experience get on the mailing list for your local gallery and get invites mailed to you for private views and exhibition opening nights.  

I went to Lionel Smit's Fragmented at the Rook and Raven Gallery in Central London. For more information visit their website at www.rookandraven.co.uk 

Great Pleasures in Life #2: Owning a Dog (or 3)

This is a photo of my latest new arrival: a 6-week-old Jack Russell/Yorkie cross named Biscuit and every time I look at him he fills my heart with utter joy! 

I'm Mummy to 2 more dogs though: Sammy, a Jack Russell, who is 15 (who I've owned since he was a mere 10 weeks) and Susie, yet another Jack Russell who is a two-year-old rescue dog.  Here they are dressed up for a wintry walk back in January: 

I'd like to say they are decked in Gucci's finest but to be honest it's Pets at Home!  But don't they look lovely! 

Dogs:  the greatest friends I've ever known.  Their love is unconditional and the greeting you get when you come home is always awesome!