Poetry co-opted by advertising: how do we feel?

 http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/2009/dec/02/rise-poetry-in-advertising

Make up a poem for ads for the following brands here:

Starbucks:

Liptons:

Dixons:

Carte Noire:

Benecol:

The kindness of strangers

After more than 20 years with depression, Zoe Lewis thought she would simply have to put up with her illness. But a friend persuaded her to try group therapy. What happened next changed her life

Madonna syndrome: I should have ditched feminism for love, children and baking

A playwright who embraced the feminism espoused by her mother and flaunted by Madonna now feels betrayed

Times Feb 09

Joanna Lumley for mayor!

Joanna Lumley: a reluctant but measured and sensible leader. With a brilliant sense of humour. An experienced campaigner, consumate people person, intelligent and fabulously wll connected, darling. Don't do it for yourself, Lumley, do it for us.

Joanna Lumley for mayor Facebook Group

Antonia's Blog on British Culture

Hilarious anthropological study of Brits, by a Brit

Pop up theatre this summer

Nursery Rhyme

Get some percussion sorted, something gentle like the sound of the sea, a rainstick would be best, and channel the trials and soul of 1970's western Kingston, Jamaica, through Don Carlos, with Rivers of Babylon.

By the rivers of Babylon
Where we sat down
And there we wept
When we remembered Zion
But the wicked carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha's song
In a strange land?
Words of our mouth
And the meditations of our heart
Be acceptable in thy sight
Oh, farai!
But the wicked carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha's song
In a strange land?

Last Word on Jade

First read Johann Hari's excellent article about Jade here

Tom: Just voted on your blog...like your writing v much and even more loved the fact that you'd linked to the Jade Goody article...

Being a bit 'common' myself and having definitely been one of these terrible people who think shell suits and trainers are cool (when I was young living in Luton) I've found the easy use of the word chav pretty objectionable...

Especially by people who've never been near a state school, council house etc., (other than in an ironic dilettante stylee) i.e. most of the people in the media who really DO convince themselves that they work BLOODY hard an are uniquely skilled at their jobs.

And it is of course, in the main, total bobbins. Most of the media types I meet are reasonably intelligent generalists who know how to sell/present themselves and make the most out of what is a sometimes shockingly low IQ.

And they still assume that I don't know any music theory because I've got a bit of a 'state school' accent! I don't mind being the unwitting effortless genius but in fact I just studied hard and went to the Guildhall.

Ps. What do you think of Burlesque? I think it's rubbish and just a middle class version of Nuts and Zoo magazines.

Lucy: Ah Tom I love you. Thanks for your comments cant say how appreciated they are. Someone read my blog!!! AMAZING!!! And was moved to respond - even more amazing!

It was really odd coz when I was growing up there was no word for people who live on council estates and shout at their kids louder'n my mum and say 'alright?' to each other by way of hallo which my parents and their friends didn't.

It was a bit awkward if like me you didn't want to use terms like 'working class' which felt like bad news because i didn't like being labelled 'middle class'. I am the result of people from a range of different backgrounds, not even all English, and a range of exciting (to me) walks of life, and so of course is everyone else. You can't tell my real background from my accent. Or my clothes. Especially when I was younger. Its superficial. So i thought I'd try and avoid inflicting the same box around other people. Then when my brother and sister moved to Edinburgh I became aware that the Scottish govnt had some up with NEDS - which seemed pretty off-key but the technical definition seemed to give it a specificity which wasn't offensive - but now of course its been adopted to mean the same thing as chav pretty much I am assuming by how it is used.

But still no England version. However i wasn't too fussed because when I needed to refer to people who lived on council estates who were loud and into track suits and gold a lot, I could just say that. I was shocked when 'chavs' came to mean what it has - it seemed offensive that one word could be used as such a cover-all, and also when it was clearly offensive. It's a healthy intellectual challenge not have a general stereotyping word available surely?

Unless you still subscribed to lower middle and upper class which I hated and still do, altho working class seems to be more appealing to me now that chav exists so prevalently, even tho it doesn't mean exactly the same thing. We shouldn't succumb as a society to generalisations like that about anyone. I wouldn't feel comfortable using it and yet LOADS of people are more than comfortable - they seem to almost relish the legitimacy the blanket use gives them to use it. Its revolting how its bandied about - and who by as you say. Bleurgh. Cunts. Now there's another amazingly provocative word...

Ps I love your definition of Burlesque, and would agree wholeheartedly had I not seen a couple of extremely progressive performances, which use the form to explore some uniquely contemporary malaises which have an acid-sharp relevance to our times, all couched in the form of bawdy entertainment, which seems to me a clever way of creating a discourse on those things in a way which people can access...I'm hoping to profile these particular performances in a fuller article, especially with the London Burlesque festival coming up on 1st April. These performance art examples may be the exceptions...For the rest, is it all stripping at the end of the day, with extra neediness attached?

Tom: Specificity is the key. I sent an email to a rather intellectual (and very good) political satire website called The Friday Thing criticising their use of the word chav, when they had written a polemic on Jade Goody and racism and how terrible racism was.

In a show of awful public school status-led mono-cultural idiocy some bloke replied to my letter and called me 'uppity'. He then went on to describe how racism was qualitatively different because it was about "skin" and not attributes; er - the Holocaust anyone (those evil money lenders), the Irish, tribal war in Africa etc., etc.??! He then went on to say that chav was merely a "'convenient label' to describe irresponsible behaviour in drinking, finances and bizarrely what he called 'irresponsible fashion sense'. So awful to start a rebuttal by call the other person 'uppity'; totally based in alhpa'ing/belittling your opponent (on a public forum) and absolutely nothing to do with the substance of the issue.


It's an example of the 'born to greatness' unquestioning nature of that particular beast: 'Of course we can call Goody a chav, she IS AWFUL, and don't be such a weakling. You're like a hysterical WOMAN'. The class system is really really awful for the people of both sides who wish to circumvent it, as all parts of the spectrum suffer.

And this guys use of the term 'convenient label'? Get a sociology GCSE mate! A convenient label is exactly that and is for the lazy mind. So for instance, public schools tend to instil confidence in people, and an expectation of success, but does that mean all public school pupils are arrogant? I've stopped using the word posh as I hate the calls system so much, if I think about it and use 'those' words, I'm just another victim of it all; people must be seen to be in control, instead of just interacting meaningfully and co-operatively. Or for the working class spin, you have to be a 'good bloke' and not 'forget where you came from'. The more I look, the more hopelessly parochial England seems and the more I want to emigrate.

Ps: Burlesque. It will always be crap if people call it 'naughty' or talk about 'glamour instead of sleaze'. By moving to the other end of the Victorian repression spectrum you fail to redefine/describe sexuality sufficiently. A bit like a girl I know who goes to fetish clubs because she thinks it's outrageous and glamorous and calls them 'pervs'. Well I don't think they are pervs, just people.

I really hate the idea of 'naughty' basically because it underpins the idea that sexuality is fun only because it is in some way wrong.

It's like the Times review of Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller, it called the book 'randy'. It's not randy, it's just someone exploring the fact that he is a mammal. Miller is refreshingly free of these judgmental indices in his writing.

But I'm always willing to be proved wrong!

Lucy: Eurgh you're so right where can you go from there if someone is using that approach - reminds me of a friend of mine trying to develop a normal relationship with a mentally ill ex boyfriend; its fruitless and may just hurt her.

My sister has just got funding to start a new enterprise in Swaziland, shall we all emigrate?

I agree about making things 'naughty'. Makes me feel a bit ill. Its already hard enough for me what with being English AND having a catholic dad! Hahaha, only (half) joking.


Your unedited comments contain the irrepressible fluency and force of feeling – let's publish.

Tom: Just to add, that I think that one of the great failures of modern feminism (if you can call Sex and the City's gay male writers and cheap Pinot Grigio feminism) is this idea of being outrageous or rebellious (naughty again - arrrrgghhh). All it seems to be doing is reacting against the proscribed version of femininity, rather than allowing a new one to emerge with to it's own importance or character. It's just a version of the Afro-American self determinism thing; you don't have to be the OPPOSITE of what they think you are OR become like them, cos that means you are still, indirectly defined by them. And men aren't necessarily (all of us anyway) the 'oppressor'. I certainly don't want to act like or be defined by typical (in this case) English male roles; but that doesn't mean I should be ashamed of liking football/beer/naked women for instance.

Ps: yeah go on.. publish me.. anonymously or I'll never get a TV job again!

The last word on Jade

from Johann Hari via Rosie

Liz Neal - Some Product

Life has a way of giving you what you want; just identify a theme and it will emerge - although be prepared to find it where you least expected it. Trogging around Argyle Square with a pram looking for the Sartorial Contemporary Art Gallery lead me to a strikingly contemporary execution of the embroidery that has been obsessing me since I saw that Eddie Stobart truck picked out perfectly in thread exhibited in a rural Norfolk church. This together with the lace-making sampler depicting a Volkswagen Beetle. Not to mention the knitted gollywogs and complete nativity scenes. And of course, Gally's incredible altar cloths and vestments.

Liz Neal, the artist currently exhibiting at the Sartorial, clearly spent some very intense time in the white box-like interior of the gallery working her stuff onto the walls, floor and ceiling of the rough and ready space, which apparently, and appropriately, used to be a porn studio. The scale is huge, the work is blisteringly technicolour lashes of flesh and figurative, decorative, graffitto portraiture.


Her compelling and rather sinister hermaphrodite muse appears in quite a few of the pieces, and the thick textural brush strokes ooze with the generous, capacious fleshy fluidity of blood and breasts and hard cocks and vagina's. This more often than not bound and masked with straps, gags and other porno paraphernalia, the odd bow tie and plenty of money shots, often with text blazing across it all, spinning out contextualizing teasers for its audience.

Once we had battled to fold down the buggy while art lovers squeezed through the narrow stairway we were entirely taking up wrestling the damn thing into the corner, we took in the terrible incendiary glamour pervading everything. Strings of pearls looked so gleamingly perfect but they were multiplying like Sleeping Beauty's brambles around the sphinx-like marble body of the subject; throttling him even as he reclines so calmly. The Horny Boys hold their wares with endearing frankness, the paintings looking as attractive as cheery collectable cards, lending them a benign quality which is arresting considering they are imagined advertising for prostitutes.

The embroidery was tucked in the downstairs room, in which crouched a series of smooth, calm canvases showing close up, langurous, uncluttered landscapes of green-toned flesh which were so intimate compared to the the crashing anonymity of much of the upstairs room. Amongst these hung two large, painterly canvases burgeoning with flora and flowers, with a key figure dwelling amongst it all, one in each, bodies swirling with texture and life - all stitched in perfectly executed embroidery.

The labour and skill were incredible, and the colours luridly and intensely beautiful, the depictions of flowers breathtaking for their classicism. The variety of threads make for a rainbow of colours in each tiny area, and yet the whole impression is as muscular as her other works. Gally and her revered fine embroidery teacher Eva (or was it Mary?) Clover (RIP) would be deeply impressed to see this work.

The whole exhibition makes you want to blast your way aggressively on with your life - to rub raw the sex and seedy side, to assimilate it, because, fuck it, that's us. Its a show about glorious self acceptance mixed with a fear perhaps of what does resonate, also perhaps of sex industry, use and abuse, but with a ballsy been there done that cynicism made beautiful.