Hilarious easyJet tube ad

The Art of Long Copy - The London Long Copy Challenge 2010
In association with CBS Outdoor and my former workplace, Campaign magazine.

Read this hilarious entry from Publicis London, for easyJet:

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Britain's shot one less "Talent"

Do my eyes and ears deceive me, can it really be true,
Finally, eight weeks in, the Wagner did not get through?

Well praise the lord is all I can say, I thought the haters would go for broke,
But come on, if he’d been in the final it would have been an almighty joke.

And pop goes the Waissel, how convenient for Mr Cowell,
His most talked-about acts booted just before the semi-round.

They’ve done their job putting bums in seats and getting headlines filled every day,
But with two weeks to go till the final showdown he has sent them both on their way.

Although Mary Byrne has lost the edge, I’m not so enamoured any more,
Feel she would benefit the West End stage, over selling out platinum world tours.

And OMG Rebecca came on stage in a totally different dress,
I believe it was a sign that the tides had turned (or maybe she’s just trying to impress).

‘Cause rumour has it that she and Matt are embroiled in a mutual crush,
Delaying their romance till the show’s end, it’s all about looks and don’t touch!

Cher’s ego grows with each strand of fake hair as she beams like a delighted child,
You ain’t won just yet love so please try to curb yourself from acting a little too wild.

Am loving One Direction though Zain he can’t count speaking for the very first time,
Said it’s great to come out with five of your friends each and every Saturday night.

Actually dear you’re one of those five, just had to set you straight,
Maybe just let your looks do the talking so we can still think that you’re great…

Rebecca needs to move just to show that she can, it’s starting to bug me now,
How she stands very still to deliver her songs, barely moving to take a bow.

Meanwhile last night a US teen sensation, the one who flirted with Ms Cole,
Mimed all through his act and elaborate dance routine (as if we wouldn’t know!)

Love The Wanted but wasn’t so keen on their performance at last night’s show,
Forwarded through Nicole’s debut, found it lacked the heart and soul,

That is ‘needed’ on X Factor to make people believe that you are connecting with the words,
Just saying perhaps Ms Scherzinger could make use of the lessons our contestants have learned.

Dermot and Konnie did their thing and Dannii’s hair beat out Cheryl in the charts,
The charity single went to number one but where are we next aiming our darts?

Who will be dropped in the semis next week and who will be our final four?
Whoever goes out, not to worry, they’ll be joining the X Factor tour.

It's Not Over till the Fat Lady Spins...

It is my general feeling that reality TV is a bust,
As those that defy its (true) purposes have become the public must.

Keeping in the likes, of Widdecombe, Wagner and McKeith,
To evoke salacious headlines, that are truly beyond belief.

Fainting fits and ridiculous claims that the old bat is (cough) ‘with child’,
Have the viewers agog and the press tuned in and her fellow jungle folk riled.

Sheryl Gascoigne has been booted out as McKeith goes slowly mad,
Raving like a loony behind jungle bars, things ain’t never looked so bad.

Meanwhile hopping back across, to this cold dark side of the world,
It’s the voters who’ve lost their marbles, perhaps you haven’t heard.

Seems us Brits have a penchant, for uncoordinated former PMs,
And loonies that lie and Brazilians that try, to send us to our wits’ end.

Yes poor Anton’s back must be in want of a rub, after weeks of dragging around,
His less than svelte partner whose misshapen routines, just worsen with every round.

There’s no room for talent, it seems, any more – no instead we’re just after some laughs,
As Strictly and X cater to an audience intent on garnering a farce.

The real X Factor favourite, he of the decorator’s hat,
Concerned about W’s voting power, last week cornered his foe in a spat.

Brawling at show rehearsals Matt accused the Brazilian of being rude,
Bad-mouthing their fellow contestants, with comments upsetting and lewd.

Convinced that Wagner will win, when it comes to the show finale,
He branded W a “joke” and said he had a “terrible feeling”,

That the TV terrorists who are keeping him in will be out in force on that day,
Condemning the real stars and their fans to a television parody.

Week after week he sails on through smug written all over his face,
Well I urge you people of Britain to knock him out before it’s too late.

The Naked Dress

As headlines turn to the all-important question of who will be chosen to design Kate Middleton’s wedding gown; the barely-there frock that caught the Prince’s eye back in 2002 is rumoured to be worth £100,000.

Worn by our future Queen at a charity fashion show while at St Andrews University, the designer Charlotte Todd said it cost her only £30 to put the dress together back in 2000. However, Ms Todd has also said she will never sell it despite bookies predicting it will rise in value to a possible £100,000 if Kate becomes Queen. The last time a “naked” dress sparked so much interest was back in the mid-1990s with season one (episode 6: Secret Sex) of Sex and the City which saw Big fall for Carrie, in a big way!

So what of the latest “naked” dress? Returned to Ms Todd’s mother’s closet following the fashion show, the 31 year-old received an offer for £1,000 to sell the dress but refused. A fashion one-hit-wonder, she did not go on to pursue a design career opting instead for a job in an aquarium. But she can hold onto her claim to fame with her role in the royal love story after William really noticed Kate when she strutted down the catwalk in Ms Todd’s design. She said, ‘It’s part of fashion history – the moment William could first have fallen in love with Kate – and that makes me really proud.’

With the date set and the venue booked, Britain prepares for the royal wedding and a new bank holiday weekend (which as luck would have it, coincides with my own wedding anniversary on May 2nd). So who will be the lucky fashionista who gets to join Ms Todd in continuing the tapestry of this royal love story? Bets are on Philippa Lepley as the designer of choice with those in the style-know predicting Ms Middleton will want to choose someone well-established but without a celebrity that will overpower her own on her special day.

Previous designers who have dressed those brides entering into the British monarchy include Sassi Holford (http://www.sassiholford.com), Jasper Conran (http://www.jasperconran.com) and Lindka Cierach (http://www.lindkacierach.co.uk). Despite cementing their love with Princess Diana’s sapphire and diamond engagement ring, it is unlikely that William’s fiancée will opt to be dressed by Elizabeth Emanuel, who famously designed Diana’s bridal gown for her wedding to Prince Charles in 1981.

So we can but wait. Only five months to go… can our patience hold out?!

Please Sir, I want some more...

Little orphan Waissel went from blonde to brown,
Avoiding the bottom two for once, can she now visualise her crown?

They say a change is as good as a rest, and it seems to have done the trick,
As Katie was first to make it through, but can she make it stick?

An internet leak of the voting results revealed an interesting fact,
Katie and Cher came in at equal footing …methinks I smell a rat…!

Journalist Samantha Wood spoke to Xtra Factor’s Konnie Huq,
Asking where does Katie’s performance end (umm… what about her luck?)

A sobbing Cher went head-to-head with Dannii’s little soul man,
And Louis ended Paije’s dream (despite saying he was his biggest fan).

Dermot popped a little kiss on top of Cher’s fake hair,
(Yes Lloyd’s Mum revealed her secret stash in a slight TV overshare).

The headlines detailing Katie’s death threats had to share the limelight,
With the Pope approving of condom use, yes you heard that right.

And it seems someone will benefit, with reports Waissel’s nan charges by the hour,
But ITV insisted it wouldn’t mark Katie’s departure from X Factor Towers.

Rebecca wore the same damn dress for the third (or fourth week) in a row,
It must be lucky for the Liverpool lass (or else she’s run out of clothes!)

The joke of this year’s line up was MIA from the group performance,
It would have been a mockery for him to “sing” in the name of a worthwhile cause.

Mr Matt paraded out in a wife-beater for Beatles night,
Simon wasn’t keen on it …perhaps he found it too tight?!

Although we know that Mr Cowell is a fan of the clingy white shirt,
Maybe he wasn’t aware of the fact that imitation is a flattery of sorts.

One Direction is everyone’s faves, even Olly Murs is in their corner,
One look, one sound, one height it’s true is equal to five performers.

Last year’s runner-up took to the stage and put everyone else to shame,
Cheeky chappy Olly won us over again as he touted his rise to fame.

With just four weeks left in this year’s comp, the pressure is on the rise,
But who in the end will walk away with 2010’s X Factor prize…?

Will and Kate

Going to the A-a-abbey, gonna get ma-a-arried, getting to the abbey on time,
Yes Prince Wills and future Queen Kate’s engagement has inspired a rhyme.

Hiding the £28,000 ring in his backpack on a trip to the South African wild,
Wills took days to work up the nerve to propose to his belle with a smile.

Attending yesterday’s photo-call dressed in royal blue,
Miss Middleton’s certainly getting in gear by opting for that hue.

The sapphire and diamond heirloom that once graced the hand of Princess Di,
Has found its place on Kate’s fair hand, only a measly nine years shy.

Waiting for Wills to pop the question, with drama and break-ups in between,
Kate must have thought all her chances were up of becoming England’s future Queen.

Now the rumour-mill is abuzz with who will design the bridal gown,
Will it be Daniella Issa, whose designs share the spotlight with the crown?

Camilla declared the impending nuptials “wicked”, at least that’s how it sounded,
I’m sure she’ll be able to tutor Wills’ ‘commoner bride’ on how best to stay grounded.

Prince Harry is thrilled to welcome Kate into the fold, after big bro popped the question,
He’s “delighted” to be gaining the sister he wanted [he’s lining up pranks to get her attention].

Reports state that the young royal couple will marry in the summer of next year,
So all other brides had better take note and make sure their venues are clear.

‘Cause you don’t want to find out the caterer’s double booked or the florist can’t do your bouquet,
Or your dressmaker’s tied up and they’re out of confetti to sprinkle on your own special day.

The Queen released an official statement joining the ranks of twitterverse,
To wish one's grandson and his beautiful girl all the love in the world.

Harking back to glorious memories of royal weddings gone by,
All the royalists will be lining the streets to watch the son of Princess Di,

As he rides in the Palatial carriage to Westminster Abbey to wed,
His blushing bride, Catherine Middleton, the future of our UK homestead.

Because news just in, the PMs requested a bank holiday off for all,
So rather than work we’ll all be glued to our TVs in utter thrall.

Commemoration mugs and five pound coins will surely be going on sale,
So get yours quick to celebrate in style this imperial fairytale…

Dior Illustrated: In Words

“To be inspired by Dior is to be inspired by René Gruau.”
John Galliano

Ploughing through the crowds streaming along London’s Strand, she clasped his hand tightly so as not to be plied apart. They bowed their heads against the burning winds, faces frozen with cold. With the weekend train lines operating a partial service, the journey had involved a multitude of different transport options. From overground rail to London’s red buses to overcrowded tubes they had battled their way into the capital. Passing an ongoing protest outside Zimbabwe House they observed a diverse mix of people flanked by white boards with varying slogans plastered across them. People stood to one side taking an assortment of photographs and video footage, but the couple continued forward. Tailored doormen ushered fur-covered guests of the Savoy Hotel into black taxis and groups of barely dressed teenage girls flowed out of the doors of Topshop and Pizza Hut.

Pausing to run into Tesco Express on the corner to grab some lunch, the couple spied a deluge of official cars and police horses fanning out around the juncture they were intending to go down. Exiting Tesco, complete with a £2 meal deal-a-piece, they crossed the road and headed toward their destination, watching as the police vans, cars and horses attended to maintaining a vehicle-free thoroughfare.

Seeing the entrance to Somerset House up ahead, they dove inside the arched passageway and made their way slowly into the courtyard. Standing to one side, they ate their sandwiches, watching as a group of workmen milled around the ice rink that was in the process of being assembled. Pieces of wood were being sawn and lights attached to the towering Christmas tree at the entrance to the rink. The word ‘SKATE’ had been applied in large lettering to the front of Somerset House and lunch eaten they continued down the right-hand side of the rink to the main entrance.


A gaggle of art students huddled together on the steps and the couple navigated past them, coming out into the warmth of the reception. A sign for the exhibition stood centrally, directing them towards the Stamp staircase where they were to follow the imprint of René Gruau’s trademark signature. Like fashion breadcrumbs the black star and symbol led them further and further down into the heart of the building, through a set of glass doors and into the atrium where a line of people was queuing to purchase tickets to the exhibit. She brandished their pre-printed tickets at the woman behind the till and they were ushered through. An introduction to the exhibition provided their first port of call within the empty space of black and cream. It spoke of the instantly recognisable and enduring fashion and beauty images created by Gruau throughout the 20th century and of the artist’s illustrious relationship with his great friend, Christian Dior. The couple read the full text and then turned to ascend the spiral staircase that would take them to the display proper.

On first impression, she was awed by the designs spread out before them along the narrow mezzanine of works on show. He pulled her attention back to the start, directing her to work her way round slowly, absorbing each element individually.


Starting with a collection of works entitled: ‘Flower Woman’, they marvelled at Gruau’s first advertising illustrations for Diorissimo, Dior’s perfume created in 1956. The image revealed the posterior of a woman clothed in a backless elegant black sheath dress, holding a bouquet of flowers. Text accompanying the group revealed Dior explaining his floral theme: “I was drawing flower women, soft, sloping shoulders, generous busts, a slim waist and wide skirts like flower petals.” The images were beautiful, she marvelled, and he too expressed his admiration of the diversity in presentation, from simple monochrome to sinuous floral compositions.

He enjoyed the playful and down-to-earth series for L’Homme Gruau, depicting a man’s hairy legs in a variety of poses and settings in advertisements for Dior’s Eau Savage aftershave. Gruau combined humour and near-nudity to transpose the age-old ideal of the femme fatale.


From the starkly modern illustrations featured in the series for line and silhouette, to the Pop Art-style impressions within gesture and attitude; Gruau’s designs revealed a sharp eye and intuition for coming trends and a wider awareness of the changing cultural landscape.

“I always seek to reproduce what I have come across in life. I record a pose, a look or a smile. It is almost photographic.”
René Gruau

The couple wondered along taking in the extent of works on display, coming to a selection of compositions at the far end of the exhibition that showed pieces created by a handful of modern artists in the guise of Dior’s central themes. Casting their critique on each of the works, they each agreed on one which certainly paid tribute to the exquisite genius of Gruau. She was drawn to a silhouetted sculpted work of black, yellow and white plastic, which revealed the outline of a woman holding an umbrella, while he recognised Gruau’s humour from the Eau Savage adverts, in an illustration by Richard Kilroy which featured a man attempting to extricate himself from his clothes leaving him faceless with just his torso on display.

They made their way along the opposite wall, stopping to admire a set of mannequins, behind glass, encased in various designs by Dior. Listening to the thoughts of other visitors to the works, the general consensus was one of praise and inspiration for Gruau’s flair and insight. The couple made their way out of the exhibition, deeply inspired by René Gruau’s line of beauty so intrinsically captured in the motifs and designs of Christian Dior.

Get Wagner Out!!!

It is now officially the world’s biggest farce,
As ‘Vagner’ rolls through again and Aiden’s out on his arse.

Paije was convinced he was a goner, it was written all over his face,
As Dermot revealed he’d made it through, escaping his fall from grace.

In the bottom two since the start of the show,
We were all convinced that Katie would go.

But no, the shock as Dannii’s crooner took the hit,
In favour of Louis’, tuneless Brazilian twit.

Simon is really starting to get on my wick,
Booting Rachel last year for not being the public pick.

But ‘cause Waissel makes headlines week in week out,
Cowell just sits back and lets the others fight it out.

So long as his boyband continue sailing through,
He honestly doesn’t care who else we hiss and boo.

Touted by their boyband peers to win this years’ contest,
The boys are moving higher towards their fame conquest.

Harry is the stud and Zain the token harmony,
Liam and Louis look the same, while Niall’s the lil blondie.

With over 150,000 facebook fans on the social networking site,
The other acts better watch themselves, they’re in for an almighty fight.

Rocking an Elton John anthem, fresh from a trip to Leicester Square,
They love Emma Watson and the spotlight, they’re literally floating on air.

And did anyone notice in this week’s results, Rebecca wore the same dress as before,
Am thinking her style crown may take a tumble post her Sunday night fashion faux pas.

While Cheryl rocked the Minnie Mouse look, with a hint of Princess Lea,
Cher stepped closer to her transformation to become Cole’s mini replica.

Mary for me has lost her appeal, think she’s tired and should cut her losses,
She truly belongs on the West End stage, could someone have a word with the ITV bosses?

Matt’s still gorgeous though wasn’t keen on this week’s song,
But it ain’t his fault that the theme was Elton John.

Feel sorry for Louis Walsh, Simon’s rudeness is beginning to get old.
But his acts JLS and Westlife last night proved their weight in gold.

The women squealed as then onto the stage came their girlhood fantasy,
The reformed Take That performed their song, complete with Mr Robbie.

Seal revealed he’s backing Rebecca as this year’s star,
But the way that things are going, it could be (gulp) Wagner!!!

Morning Catastrophe!

OMG!! I had the biggest catastrophe this morning,
As I was getting dressed I experienced a fatal dawning,

That my treasured ring bought by my Dad to celebrate my wedding,
Was lost, gone, vanished, I searched everywhere including my bedding.

I vaguely recalled I may have left it in the fourth floor toilet at work,
So panicking I raced to get out of the house, berating myself for being a jerk.

Then the damn train was packed to the hilt with people refusing to budge,
So I heaved and cajoled till they shifted aside with a deft little push and a nudge.

Some horrible man was loudly chewing literally right into my ear,
So with one finger rammed in my eardrum, the other had to hold on in fear.

As the train jolted and bucked from Harrow to town, my distress became gradually more,
I could feel the sweat building, my fear reflected in the fogged up windows of the door.

Swapping over at Finchley Road I raced from the Met to the Jubilee,
Thankfully chewing man didn't follow as I willed for the train to hurry.

Arrived at Green Park and did something unusual, well what I don't usually do,
I strode up the escalators at warped speed anxious to get to that loo.

Face full of panic I got to reception hoping someone handed it in to them,
No came the answer but we'll put out a message and let you know if it comes in.

Meeting a colleague waiting for the lift I recounted my tragic tale,
Together we rode up to the fateful loo as I rushed in face haggard and pale.

My heart stopped, as OMG sitting on the white windowsill I saw,
My ring, where I'd left it, sparkling in the sunlight, I exhaled and sank to the floor.

Gathering myself and my treasured ring I returned to my desk panic-free,
And sat down to write of all I've gone through with my morning catastrophe!

Exercising my right to stay in bed...

The cold weather is staging its yearly vendetta,
Convincing me that abandoning the gym for a lie-in is better.

Far better to stay where it’s warm and treadmill free,
Than emerge at dawn into conditions that are dark and icy.

The effort before bed of packing a bag, remembering trainers, knickers and shampoo,
When it’s so much easier to just stay at home where those things are all in plain view.

I’ll just walk up the five flights of stairs that take me from ground floor to work,
That’ll get the blood pumping and legs a burning, and without costing the earth.

Though of course that monthly membership fee with trickle on out of my account,
But I do go on Saturdays and train extra hard, I’m doing something to make it count.

It’s easier to plan to get out of bed when the light’s streaming in through your window,
When you don’t have to pile on a million layers just to take leave of your bed throw.

‘Cause the heating ain’t on at 5am so the house resembles an igloo,
And at this time of year I’m battling, all the yucky symptoms of flu.

No, my weekday gym visits may well be postponed, at least till the looming new year,
When I’ll reboot my resolve before the cold came, and force myself to persevere.

I’ll convince myself, that the violent shivering, that comes with these cold weather days,
Will shed many pounds of unwanted weight, leaving me trim for parties.

So my Saturday work-outs will just have to do, as I weight out the ice, rain and snow,
And then I’ll return, fighting fit, to reclaim that svelte figure I used to know.

Borne in the USA!!!

In the final four left standing before Dermot announced the last two,
I finally thought Wagner’s time was up, but shock horror D announced he got through!

So Little Miss Treyc was booted after last night’s drama show,
As Cheryl didn’t do a Meryl, refusing to let either girl go.

The Madness of Waissel continued as she publicly suffered a breakdown,
Slumping onto the stage mid-performance convinced she ain’t getting the crown.

Throwing her toys from her high-maintenance pram she looked to throw in the towel,
But lived to see another round saved by a Walsh and a Cowell.

Beautiful Matt and Rebecca, thankfully sailed into next week,
Followed by Aiden and the Bieber boys, who finally served up a treat.

Breaking formation from one straight line, they danced and grooved like Wild Cats,
Channelling High School Musical spirit and fun, they showed Efron who’s really the man!

Mary lost her will to sing, claiming she’s missing her daughter,
Surprisingly though instead of her, two other lambs were sent to the slaughter.

I guess one bad week ain’t enough to discourage fans of the Irish bird,
With Louis fighting her corner each week, adamant she be seen and heard.

Paije went all retro… oh yes, yet again, with his country club look on show,
Likened to comic Len Henry, with his yellow cardi in tow.

Cher glowered at Simon’s comments, “accepting” his view of her skill,
Though I worry for Mr X Factor, just saying, ‘if looks could kill…’

Dannii’s big sis came out sparkling complete with very high heels,
Bringing her level with Dermot, when he joined her to make his spiel.

JT lookalike Mr Shane Ward flaunted his bod and new song,
With a Matrix-style backdrop he stood up high well away from the screaming throng.

From Viva Las Vegas to Keyes’ New York, American Anthems reigned,
But who will the British public chop next as the hopefuls get nearer to fame.

A Fashion Night Out

Suave, sexy waiters bearing glassy black trays,
Of tubes of Prosecco and assorted canapés.

Furs and velvets, chiffons and silks, all crying out to be touched,
The spectrum of jewel tones in emerald, amethyst and ruby are this season’s fashionable must.

Complimented by soft greys and blacks, something shimmering catches my eye,
The black sequinned sleeve of a body-tight dress winks from the rail on my right.

Wellington boots with embellishments looking like equestrian overlays,
Ranging from leopard-print to sequins, makes light of rain-sodden days.

Perched on a black marble shelf I spy footwear that makes me exhale,
Shoe-boots emblazoned with buckles and studs call me over to check their details.

Too heavy to hold, let alone wear, I replace them and move onto the next,
Lace overlaid pumps in yellow and mauve, I consider bouncing a cheque.

Beautiful bags in leather and suede, buttery soft to the feel,
In browns and deep purples, camel and grey, I sense myself starting to reel.

The InStyle editor beckons us close to pay tribute to this incredible brand,
An assistant comes over and gives me history-in-brief of the polka dot shirt in my hand.

The shop-floor seems endless and I circulate further, roaming from one end to the other,
I step into the men’s side, forgetting myself, yet greeted by a hot Dolce lover.

But the one piece that repeatedly beckons me forth is protected by clear solid glass,
The most exquisite necklace I’ve ever seen, outstanding in look and in class.

Evocative of Tom Binns’ charm-laden creations, its amethyst stones twinkle bright,
Set in a chunky pearl and gold chain I imagine with which outfit it would look right.

A pear-shaped stone at the end of the chain, perfectly accenting the clasp,
My eye is suddenly drawn to a ruby version and unthinkingly I let out a gasp.

I stand and reflect if my desire is warranted to free these most beautiful things,
From their glass-cased enclosure of visual display, it’s a crime to keep them within.

Reluctantly though, I turn on my heel, taking one final look back,
At this wondrous trove of treasures and more, and assistants in top-to-toe black.

A black and gold bag is placed in my hands as I depart this most stylish soiree,
Filled with cosmetics and a magazine, unbeknownst to those glaring my way.

Sporting a bag bearing one of the most iconic of all fashion names,
I float home on a dream cloud of fabric and colour, now sure of my long-term aim!

Twitter and Tweet

I used to think it was a waste of space, chaps spouting out thoughts willy nilly,
But then I considered, after losing my job, I should really stop being so silly.

It really is a fabulous portal to network and spread it about,
That I’m kinda looking and if they …you know, then maybe they’d give me a shout.

From PRs to lawyers, and admen to eds, the creatives are tweeting in force,
And drivers and popstars, businessmen and women are also joining in of course.

A worldwide phenomenon, genius, inspired, it’s swept the globe far and wide,
As tweets flow fast all day and all night, people frantically keeping their stride.

Demi and Ashton like to post naughty pics, showing they really are real,
Girls follow Chace and other hot bods convinced this’ll clinch them the deal.

Copycats make bids for awesome book deals pretending to be random stars,
From Cole to Fry, Waissel and more, they fire off ‘witty-some’ bars.

Competitions and discounts, headlines and news all make it onto the feed,
As thousands sign on each and every day, hungry for the titbits they’ll read.

Collecting followers is the new biggest fad, replacing stickers and stamps,
As people revel in virtual fanbases, competing to be the tweet champ.

Addicted to knowing what’s just been posted, checking computer and iPhone,
Boring your colleagues, parents, lovers and friends, ignoring their long-suffering groans.

Jeopardising work and relationships to dedicate much of your time,
To refreshing the page just once more, to see if that person you mentioned replied.

Jumping with unconcealed excitement when a text alert vibrates through,
That you’ve just got a direct message from that person you think’s really cool.

Yes, Twitter is the online place to see, be seen and stay tuned,
To the ways of the world in this fast-moving era, where only our fingers get pruned.

Tapping away till our digits go numb, and the time fades into the past,
Perhaps in our future we’ll hazily recall what we said in our first Twitter blast?

Strike Three...

They claim they’ve no power, financial or real, as we daily clamber aboard,
Fighting for space, a metro or seat, just to be told to get off!!

Windows get fogged in the cold winter months as viruses make use of the space,
Reluctantly people crack open the windows, though not before coughing in your face.

Silence typically settles as people choose not to converse,
Rather to sleep with headphones on ears or get lost in their favourite book.

Only when stuck in tunnels for hours on end do Londoners engage with their peers,
Sharing in common dislikes for the tube and discussing frustrations and fears.

You’d think for £169 a month they could deliver a service to boot,
I certainly don’t expect to complete, my morning commute on foot.

Millions of Oyster cards swiping us through as we head straight into rush hour,
Faces are dark, expecting the worst, turning ever so slowly more sour.

Delays, signal failures, people falling on tracks, the problems just seem to get worse,
At this rate, any hope of arriving on time will more likely come thanks to a hearse.

Huffing and cursing, in-fighting abounds as priority seats become sparse,
Forcing earlybirds up from their comfortable perches to make room for those old and knocked up!

As the third of three strikes takes effect on this eve, the buses will be crammed to the hilt,
I stop for a moment and consider just how TFL staff can sleep with the guilt,
Of causing such ‘mares for us London folk who rely on the carriages and wheels,
To transport us to work and meetings and such, where we’ll bash out our deadlines and deals.

Facing epic treks to locales far and wide most would prefer to stay home,
But bosses alike will hear none of that, ignoring our pleas and our groans.

With tube staff loitering outside the closed stations directing angry mobs away,
Bus drivers revel in the unadulterated need that commuters have for them this day.

Pushing and shoving to get on at their stop, getting thrown every time the bus halts,
We’ll all stand together, clinging on for dear life, bitching of all the tube’s faults.

Genius Comes in many forms...

They tried to revive the five-piece boyband, with a little F, Y and D,
But they were soon stripped of their dancing shoes live on Sunday TV.
The Brazilian joker of Walsh’s pack survived to the shock of the nation,
While a certain blonde cried her heart out, singing in desperation.
The headlines were full of spite, accusing Cheryl of not bringing her A-Gamu,
While an Italian diva and has-been rock leader were ousted by the public shoe!
Mad and brooding, creating a craze, Aiden let us into his world,
Evoking eerie presence and pin-up looks, his performance won over the girls.
A certain painter in a certain hat finally opened his eyes,
Melting the heart of every female with his lyrical, soulful surprise.
Camp and colourful, Simon’s duo painted the X Factor stage green, pink and blue,
An Irish songstress belted power ballads, but we’re now after something new.
On the cover of every weekly rag, a ‘breakdown’ saw Waissel cry,
Seems Topshop were out of the Kate Moss dress she’d been saving her pennies to buy.
The face of JLo and a voice in a million, a shy scouser flaunted her chops,
While a wonderful wildcard proved his worth, despite being styled by shmocks.
Will.i.am may have found a replacement for the rapstar girl in his band,
With a snarl of the lip and a hand on her hip, Cher Lloyd is cementing her brand.
Walsh’s novelty act is still going strong, as facebook fans keep him on air,
While a voice known as John took his final bow on account of a right naughty pair.
One and the same in look and style, Cowell’s boys maintain their direction,
Headed straight for the bathroom mirror, to admire their united reflection.
Cheryl’s fourth girl ain’t doing so well even though her talent is grrreeaaaat,
Her act don’t stand out in the current comp, it’s kinda three years too late.
Simon looked bored, Louie looked meek, the girls shot daggers at JK,
Bon Jovi wowed with a huge ensemble, while a food-fight broke out for RiRi.
SiCo’s makeshift girlie band went one copy-act too far as they met the end of the line,
Halloween saw them fright for their lives, but the dong bell of deadlock called time.
Pacing the stage barefoot and wild, eyes rimmed red with distress,
A drama queen wept as she went to great lengths to prove she was a top songstress.
Weeks have passed and the numbers gone down, now only nine remain,
Who will be next to face the aXe in this rigged but addictive game?

The Act of Stardom

In the bottom two again on last night's X Factor, Katie Waissel 'broke down' almost before her performance of Etta James' 'Trust in Me' was over.

This girl has mastered the act of over-acting; from breakdowns in Topshop to spider-leg eyelashes, Waissel (fondly referred to by some as 'Weasel') is going above and beyond to cement her presence in the public consciousness.

Although her husky warblings are sensually appealing, and her kooky on-stage persona memorable; there is something of a mad desperation about her, which clearly came across on Sunday night. Walking around barefoot (uh, hello - been there done that, Diana Vickers) in a gold playsuit, her black root-powdery hairstyle up at all ends - she seemed to me nothing more than a lunatic woman stalking her bathroom shouting things out in frustration...

I feel no good can come from this madcap manner - calm down Miss Katie... that's a warning!