Hello, friends from 'not England'! How are you? Or should I say 'g'day, y'all bonjour danke'? You come to this blog day-in, day-out (don't you?) looking for advice and guidance about new cultural phenomenons sweeping my little nation, made of grass and scarves. Well you're in for a treat today, because I'm going to tell you all about the author of Britain's TOP-SELLING AUTOBIOGRAPHY LAST CHRISTMAS. Having worked in a bookshop over Christmas, I can tell you that the above fact is true. He was massively popular, outstripping other celebs you've never heard of such as Chris Evans (a DJ, not a comic-book loving actor) and Paul O'Grady. The success is even more impressive when you learn that this writer is not human, real, or English.
Alexsandr Orlov is an anthropomothic meerkat, less Timon and more Queen Catherina The Great of Russia. He is the frontman for an advertising campaign by a price-comparison website, Compare The Market, and has appeared in a number of adverts for the company. He also has this tie-in book, and there are reports he will win a record contract in the near future. Alexsandr is a Russian character, and the premise of the adverts is that "market" pronounced in a Russian accent sounds like "meerkat". Britain is not very advanced nowdays.
Alexsandr promotes a website called "comparethemeerkat.com", and in each advert he bigs up this website where customers can go to compare different kinds of meerkat and vote for which they like best. He will typically then get irate because people get his website mixed up with "comparethemarket.com". The advert will end with him naming both sites, in an accent which makes them sound exactly the same, before winking at the camera and making a clicking noise. This is the most popular thing in England right now.
A few things concern us. One is that Alexsandr is meant to have fought through several hardships in the 1970s, before he became the businessman he is today. However, meerkats only live for about 12-14 years. So how has Alexsandr managed to live for so much longer, three times longer than any other meerkat in history. Is this why he can talk? Is the advert suggesting that, were meerkats able to live long enough, they'd eventually learn to speak human dialect and develop fingers flexible enough to manage a computer - is this what the advert is suggesting? Because if so, that seems like tacit support of evolution and all Catholics should protest against the adverts immediately.
Another worry is that Alexsandr's new website is called "Meerkovo". Now, I don't know about you, but that immediately brings to mind "Kosovo", a disputed land in the former Yugoslavian Republic which has for decades now been the centre of horrific war. Why are the advertisers bringing "Meerkovo" into the public eye? What are they going to do. If this ends with Meerkovo getting bombed by angry car insurance salesmen....
Our point, readers, is that we find this whole thing to be very disturbing indeed. While small animals are cute, apart from skunks who are misogynistic, the promotion of these meerkats seems shady and unorthodox. What happens if the adverts cease to be popular? Are we literally going to see civil war followed by acts of mass violence and the whole thing becomes an uncomfortably taut allegory for war-torn Europe? Readers, this whole thing stinks.
Generally Wilftonville stays out of American politics because we don’t approve of living in an America-centric universe. There are other countries, and the majority of them are way better than America is. Or at least, more consistent in their beliefs. Walk from one state to another in America and you’ll find that whereas your Jesus-ignoring, ethnic-approving, gay-marriage supporting self is highly beloved in the one, your beliefs will cause the residents of the other to actually hunt you down with pitchforks. America is an odd country. Racists live next to liberals, and one of the largest states is run by an Austrian. And on top of all this, they drive on the wrong side of the road (what UP, Australia?)
However, seeing as there is only one new president every four years in America unless the current president is a republican, it’s worth looking into this “Obama” feller to see what’s really going on. Barack Obama, in case you were unaware, is not completely white. In fact, there is a whole half of him which could be described as “not white”. This is quite the turn-up for the books, because everyone outside of America assumed that all states were racist. It turns out that the USA happens to be startlingly not prejudiced anymore (nobody would call it liberal, yet, but it does seem to be heading that way, which is pleasing) and ready for “change”. And “hope”. Because that’s what Obama was promising. During the five-year election process he has constantly referred back to these two words as part of his platform, and they’ve worked out for him far better than Hilary Clinton’s “woman” and “sexism” words or John McCain’s use of “POW” and “necktie”. Why he thinks that quoting a form of Batman attack will help him in politics is anyone’s guess, as everyone knows what happens when politicians get involved with the Caped Crusader.
Pictured: A Fool.
It’s clear from his speeches that Barack Obama is an eloquent individual, and as this is unheard of for a politician the media have decided to jump on this and proclaim him to be the resurrected body of Jesus, which will annoy all deluded Christians (Jesus was white! They shout) and force all Rastafarians to smoke more. Well, perhaps the media aren’t that obsessed with him, but they do seem to think that there is nothing about the man which is mockable at all. Previous President George Bush was an international laughing stock (although we all laughed as quietly as possible, in case he tried to bomb us) and of all the other World leaders – Berlusconi, Brown, and so on – only Obama and Nicolas Sarkozy seem to be seen as genuinely decent at their job. Sarkozy, being French, doesn’t have to do much to impress anyone but Obama is in charge of a country which everyone can admit is pretty darned important. And it looks, at this point in time, like he’s going to do a good job.
This is great for America – good luck with everything, and all – but it does mean that it’s damnably hard to think up any good jokes about the man. He’s dignified and clever, but also witty and seems approachable to the average person. Where’s the humour in that? When you add to our woes with the simple truth that Obama is black, it means that it’s going to be seriously tough to say any jokes about him without coming off as a racist. Or ironic. It’s a massive problem which has been mentioned all around the World by many different comedians as something which they struggle with – Jon Stewart, Chris Rock, Marcus Brigstocke, among others have all worried that there are no good Obama jokes around.
There are many solutions to this problem, but because this is a blog we’ll only talk about the least obvious and most convoluted one: we have to start making up stuff about Barack. For example, did you know the following facts about Barack are all absolutely true?
At college he studied drama.
His favourite kind of animal is the llama.
He has no tolerance for a self-harmer.
My Name Is Earl is his favourite show, because it’s all about karma.
With these four facts in our possession, we can start arranging jokes based about Obama which will be hilarious. Let’s try one on, based on those four facts:
“Knock Knock” “Who’s there?” “Barack” “Barack who?” “I’m Barack from watching My Name Is Earl!!!!”
On top of this absolutely stupefying jubilant joke, nobody has yet realised that Obama’s initials are “BO”. Did you know that “BO” is also the abbreviation for ‘body odour’? Because it is! What a superb joke you could make from that, comedians of the world! We don’t stop here either, as Barack Obama was born in Hawaii. That means that any Hawaii 5-O jokes you might have are applicable to him! Yes! Can’t you see? There is so much on offer for you here, and you don’t even realise it yet. This is just the beginning. Do you know any good jokes that could be made up about Barack Obama, America’s forty-somethingth President? Write them in the comments section below, and let’s see if we can’t build up a collection for later use.
And who knows? Perhaps he’ll shatter the American economy and ruin the country. What a great day for jokesters that’ll be!
With Christmas just round the corner now, it’s time for us to think not of ourselves, or of any religious iconography whatsoever, but instead of others. Unless those others are involved in religious iconography, as previously stated. Yes, it’s time for The Annual Wilftonville Christmas Appeal.
Blue Peter does not have a monopoly on these things.
This Christmas, you may be sat round the Christmas tree with your family, opening presents and laughing. But for some children, that laughter never comes, because they are dying of starvation. In countries less well off than our own (Zimbabwe, Bangladesh, Scotland), people are starving right now and it’s something that we feel is no longer acceptable. Not in this big, shining globe of hope which Barack Obama is due to start ruling soon, surely? To think that in some places there are people who will not be able to cut into a Christmas Turkey/Hannukah Goose/Buddhist whateverthehell Buddhists are allowed to eat; because they don’t have one. How horrendous the World can be sometimes.
And you, you’re laughing so much at your Christmas joy. Can’t you spend a moment on spreading it to other people? Would that be so difficult? All we ask at Wilftonville is that you send us the dessicated remains of your pets once they die. Now, it’s never easy to lose a pet, especially one which you are close to – but does that really excuse that fact that around the world, millions of pets are buried once they die? That’s millions of potential meals for starving people, given to the underground creatures instead of the humans who need them.
Have you ever seen the underground creatures? They are hideous. You shouldn’t keep feeding them.
To take part in The Wilftonville Annual Appeal, please wait until your beloved pet dies a natural death and then post the corpse to us so that we can forward it to a starving boy in North Australia (near Cairns, the ‘third world’ of Oz). With your help, we can make a difference to so many people - especially if you keep pet cows.
The castlist for the 2008 ‘I’m A Celebrity: Get Me Out Of Here’ social experiment has been announced today, and the main surprise was that there were many actual stars in the line-up. For those of you who do not live in Britain and thus do not understand, this scientific project has happened once a year in Britain for the past seven or so years. A group of celebrities are taken to the Australian jungles (statistically the second-most likely place to get killed in the World, after Bridlington) and stranded there for a few weeks, and kept under surveillance. This is so that British scientists can study the celebrities, and eventually cure cancer. It’s also televised, so that the costs of hiring such massively famous celebrities can be regained afterwards.
This year the celebrities include:
Esther Rantzen (she stars in legal adverts);
Robert Kilroy-Silk (a notable fascist, I’m informed);
Martina Navratilova (the producers are hoping for hot lez action this year);
George Takei.
That’s right. 'The Tak' is going to take part in the show this year. Interestingly, this announcement comes just days after it was announced that gay marriage was banned in California. Is there a link here? It seems like Takei could be trying to foster a welcome from the British, before he moves over here permanently. If he does move here, this would be quite the feather in the cap for Britain, one which would make us quits with America for the whole ‘Independence’ debacle. But anyway, that's not important.
Because Wilftonville officially endorse George Takei for King Of The Jungle 2008.
That's right: we're coming out for Takei. In a thinly-disguised jab at all the websites and TV shows which slavishly covered the American Election as if it wasn't incredibly obvious who was going to win all along, Wilftonville will now be devoted almost exclusively to keeping track of Takei's actions within the Aussie jungle. This is going to be fun!
It’s quite upsetting to read the papers every morning, because without fail one of the headlines is going to tell us all about how a musician, previously admired, has gone off the rails. There’s a massive problem in Britain, and not many other countries have it quite as bad as we do, where the media can’t stand to see someone succeeding in life. Not just the media, but the general public too. As the uber-wise Emily Haines once put it, “there’s an obsession with seeing how people aren’t their dreams.” It’s quite sad. And now that Amy Winehouse is a daily fixture in the papers, and it’s impossible to turn a corner without hearing people whispering dirty rumours about Duffy (note: lie), there’s a growing feeling that Britain is losing identity. Step in Wilftonville, heroic champion of the underdog, in all the forms that it can take. We don’t like to see this going on; and we know for an almost fact that what you’d like to read about is something positive, instead.
We can help with this. Instead of picking up a newspaper from now on, we suggest that you bookmark this blog entry, and re-read it every time you feel an interest in what the news of the day might be. It’s difficult to go cold-turkey, but if anyone can do it then you can. Here is a list, of singers who have managed to make us feel proud about Britain again, in their own different ways.
1: Alex Turner (Arctic Monkeys, The Last Shadow Puppets) A young lad from Sheffield, our Alex isn’t afraid of a bit of hard graft from time to time, as proven by his strong workrate over the past three years. He released an album a year with his first band, The Arctic Monkeys, and then went on to release another album earlier this year with a side-project called ‘The Last Shadow Puppets’. All three of ‘em take a look at British culture and declare it revived, in a way. A smart fella with a wry sense of self-deprecating humour, Turner is the sort of person you want at your award ceremony. It doesn’t matter what he’s done, just give him an award of some kind, let him go up to the mike, and enjoy.
2: Alison Goldfrapp (Goldfrapp) Her music may have been brash and aimed directly at getting people onto the dance-floor, but Alison Goldfrapp has never been the kind of person who could be called socially active. Quite shy in front of a camera (although not as shy as her musical partner, who refuses to take the stage at their concerts), she shows a level of quirkiness that has been a part of Britishness for decades and decades. From Syd Barrett’s music-making to Churchill’s crazy decision to attack Germany for no reason, the British are known for being an odd sort, and Alison Goldfrapp is a pioneer of oddness. Dancing with giant owls, dressing up as an old woman, and all the while singing about breast implants, she needs to be recognised as the modern-day icon that she is.
3: Paul Heaton (The Housemartins, The Beautiful South) Paul Heaton is from Manchester, a place synonymous with bricklaying, housing estates, and crime. He’s never let this get him down, though, and his songwriting has often tried to make Manchester seem like a much nicer place than it really is (sample lyric: “If rain makes Britain great/then Manchester is greater!”). Heaton is well-known as a collector of anything he can – he collects crisp packets, ‘do not disturb’ signs, and autographs, amongst others. What could be more British than the inbuilt desire to keep as much junk in your house as possible? He’s a funny bloke, too, although his choice to always wear a tracksuit top – even in concert – is baffling.
4: Ricky Wilson (The Kaiser Chiefs) There was an incident a while ago where Ricky was walking through the streets of Leeds at night (oh what a beautiful sight), but was caught up in a hit-and-run incident, which left him with a broken leg. How, then, was he ever going to be able to complete the tour his band were currently partway through? Why, with a cast on his leg, of course! The dirty humour of Wilson is well-liked in Britain, and his reputation as a cheekie chappie is certainly bolstered by the strong, retro-fitted lyrics he’s given to sing by bandmate Nick Hodgson. With a constant grin on his face, and typically battered, Wilson represents the very noble spirit of stamina. The show must go on, after all.
5: Dame Shirley Bassey The Dameship alone should be enough to fill you in on her legendary status, but if you want more: she has sung three different James Bond themes. The brassy Welsh diva – was she the first real diva to emerge from music? She’s certainly one of the most beloved – has an extensive career to date, and miraculously her voice has remained as powerful as ever it was. How does she celebrate this? By turning up seemingly every year for the Royal Variety Performance to sing something for the royals, who love it. When she went to Glastonbury to perform for the first time, she was smart enough to bring along wellies to keep her feet safe. However, she was also glam enough to have said wellies encrusted with diamonds that spelt out “DSB” on each leg. Class doesn’t cover it.
6: Dizzee Rascal This list isn’t a fair representation, as Dizzee Rascal is the only black entrant. But race doesn’t matter – we’re more interested in Dizzee’s personality. As a rapper, you would expect his reputation to be linked with drugs, brawls, and so on. Heck, fighting and drugs were all that kept So Solid Crew in the papers. Yet Dizzee Rascal is not thought of in that sort of way. Instead, he’s seen primarily as a great spokesperson for young Brits, and also as a strong, charismatic performer. These traits, along with his recent barnstorming performance on Newsnight with Jeremy Paxman, make him a Brit to be proud of.
7: Jarvis Cocker (Pulp)
Any list of true British heroes, who should only ever be spoken of in faltering, praise-filled hushed tones, is incomplete without Jarvis Cocker. An incredibly articulate and astute man, Jarvis writes songs which capture a moment in great detail, and in doing so raised points about class and culture which reverberated through Government. Although he has chosen to live his life in France, which is a terrible mistake on his part and will probably end in his brutal sacrifice just as soon as the French harvests fail, Jarvis manages to be filled with everything that symbolises Britain. He’s smart and funny, he was raised in Yorkshire, and he takes the piss out of everyone he sees. On top of this, he’s also a superb dancer.
8: Tom Jones
A true gentleman knows how to wear a suit, and Tom Jones can wear a suit better than anyone else in the World. He can also wear not a suit better than anyone else in the World. Continuing the strange trend of powerful singers from Wales (Shirley, Duffy, Cerys Matthews… The Automatic), Mr Tom Jones throws off class and sophistication everywhere he goes, even though somehow he has never lost his ability to appeal to the working man. With a collection of songs which would be the envy of any singer; Mr Jones has managed to sing tunes which have crossed continents and charmed millions of women, the suave geezer. And has he ever been caught up in drugs scandals? Has he ever been sent to rehab because of drinking? No. Because he’s a legend.
9: Neil Hannon (The Divine Comedy) Speaking of gentlemen, Neil Hannon surely epitomises the look of a modern Irishman. Instead of being dressed in the slave dungarees that are traditional for all who work in Ireland down on the potato fields, Hannon wears a suit and can recognise the idea of having a melody in his music, instead of histrionic shouting. Conducting together superb, baroque pieces of orchestra in order to compliment his deft use of words, he has created music that sounds more English than anything the English themselves could ever hope to make. In the process, he has suffered many hardships, but came through them stronger, and his recent output are arguably his best records to date. A superb musician to admire.
[Earlier this year I put a site tracker onto Wilftonville, just for a week, and I found out that a surprising majority of readers come from the Down Undah’ (is that how you write it?). So… this one’s for you, Australia!]
Australian Rules Football The National Sport Of: Australia
What Is It?
Having previously slighted American Rules Football for being wimpy at best, I’ll have to stand down a little. Aussie Rules Football is based around the rules of rugby, just like American Football is - but in the case of the Australians the sport isn’t toned down (wussified) at all. If anything, they add an extra layer of unpredictable violence into proceedings. Australian Rules football may not be football, but it certainly is a sport only the Australians could ever have invented.
The rules are almost simple. Two teams of eighteen (seriously? Eighteen? That’s insane!) take to the field, and stand essentially wherever they want before kickoff starts. The ball – a rugby ball – is thrown into play, and the madness then begins. The ball can be passed by punching it or kicking it, which adds credence to my belief this game was designed to appeal to the inner convict present in every Australian, but not through throwing. That makes it quite different from rugby, then. Also, if a player decides to run with the ball then they have to bounce it on the ground every fifteen metres. No trouble, except this is an oval rugby ball and they play on terrain which is typically slightly less well maintained than Wembley. On top of all that, the players from the other team (don’t forget; there are eighteen of them gunning for you once you grab the ball) can get it back off you by tackling you. Aussie rules are just like British ones in that the players aren’t given any protective gear – except, lord hopes, a cup – so when a player gets tackled they’re going to feel it.
There are four posts on each side of the pitch, and if a player can kick the ball between the two most middle posts then the team gains six points. If the ball misses and goes between a middle and outer post, or if the kick completely spastics out and hits a post, only one point is scored. In that respect, Aussie rules thus rewards even the sloppiest of players. After eighty minutes of killing each other, spread over four twenty-minute sections, the players are called in and go off for a barbeque and lager. Fosters, mate.
Why Doesn’t Britain Care?
Everything about Aussie rules seems to suggest that Britain would love the sport, if they could only get past that first word of the name. “Australian”. Y’see, that’s the problem for us all. When it comes to sport, the last thing we want to see is a participating Australian. As far as any Brit is concerned, the national hobby of Australia is “beating Britain” (of course, we get the occasional upset – an Ashes win here, maybe a Rugby World Cup on home turf after a last minute drop goal C’MON Jonny Wilkinson or an Olympics Medal Table that surprised even us, but typically we tend to lose to those bastards). If we play cricket, then those dirty Aussies will undermine the entire point of us shipping them abroad in the first place by beating us. Likewise with most other sports – Australia have a naturally tendency to be just that little bit better than us Brits, and that really rubs us up the wrong way sometimes. Grr, and all that.
So the reason why we don’t play any Australian sports like that, nor care about any Australians who do? Because if we give them any attention at all, then they’ll almost certainly change the names for all their teams to stuff like “The Pom-Bashers” and “The Limey-Toppers”. And help us, we find it difficult enough as it is to win at sports we invented against them – how would we ever compete if we played a sport against them that they’ve had years of practise with?
