Nat Fair?

Just read an old newspaper. Two weeks ago, convicted wife-killer Nat Fraser lost an appeal against his 25-year prison sentence.

Arlene Fraser disappeared from their Elgin home ten years ago. A body has never been found, thus the evidence against Nat Fraser was entirely circumstantial.

Unsurprisingly, Mrs Fraser was painted as Snow White by the press, her husband as a brute.

I have a HUGE problem with murder convictions in the absence of a corpse. Far as I know, a judge must instruct a jury as to the parameters of the law, warn them against being influenced by news articles, public opinion, etc.

So Nat Fraser isn't very nice, his friend gave inconsistent answers to police, and his AWOL wife has been pedestalled as an angel. Therefore he must've killed her.

Unbelieveable. Still, the appeal was unlikely to be successful, because police and prosecutors don't like to concede any corner-cutting. And because people are clowns, there's unlikely to be any outcry in support of Nat Fraser.

No-one kills their spouse for no reason at all. So was Arlene so very nice? Probably not, I'd say.

The Scottish Sun's reporting of all this was typically sanctimonious and presumptuous. Evil Fraser... slayed mum-of-two... Arlene's dad... judges threw out his appeal... hopes of freedom were dashed...

Entirely sympathetic to the supposed victim's family, and condemning Nat Fraser, because that's what their readership likes.

The report included the phrase ... whose body was never found. Which presumes that there is indeed a body to find. That hasn't been proven.

Who knows, maybe Nat Fraser is a bad guy, maybe his wife was a victim. The point is it cannot be shown that he killed her, or that anyone did.

Yet look where he is. Think about that. It could happen to anyone.


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Sex and the Wrong City

After months of tiresome hype, Sex and the City: The Movie has finally premiered - not in New York, but in Leicester Square, London.

Hardly surprising. The producers, including Sarah Jessica 'Nosey' Parker, probably thought that staging its opening night in London was a masterstroke, the ultimate in chic.

That was the whole theme of the show itself. Sophistication. Four liberated career women, Nineties go-getters unabashedly discussing their hectic lives and their sexual adventures.

While wearing cute funky outfits. How empowering!

Bollocks. Women watched this stuff because it purported to be cutting-edge cool, men watched it because it had women talking about blow jobs. And because their empowered wives insisted.

Let's not pretend it was anything special. Hype is just hype.

As for the London chic thing, surely they know that a stone's throw from Leicester Square, one is more likely to be mugged for their sneakers, than be complimented on their dress sense by a gay friend and his chihuahua.

I keep hearing people refer to SJP's incredible sense of style. More hype. She has an incredible sense of style because that's what mags like Cosmo tell the show's viewers that she has.

No-one seems to want to talk about her equally-incredible hooter, or her incredibly veiny hands and feet. Maybe she wouldn't look that way if she allowed herself to eat more than a small orange once a year at Christmas.

Style. Pah! Have you seen some of the get-ups she sported in that series? Looks like a retarded child got dressed in the dark. But instead she's the last word in originality.

She and the other three ageing bimbettes will ride their luck for another short while, before hopefully disappearing down Fifth Avenue never to return.

Bye then.


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Brotherly Love

This week, Scots incest couple Nick Cameron and Danielle Heaney appeared on US television to talk about their forbidden love.

The half-brother-and-sister act spoke of falling in love after meeting in their twenties, the probation handed down to them by a Fife court, prohibiting a continued sexual relationship, and of their hope to go live in France, where apparently their particular incestuous relationship will be lawful.

Hardly surprising that these two jumped into bed soon after meeting. Who else would have them? His head is the size of a space hopper, she looks as though maybe her parents were related, and each has the intellect of a burnt pizza.

It was somewhat difficult to find information on these two, perhaps a sign that no-one anywhere really wants to discuss this topic, i.e. banging one's relatives.

That's all from me for now - got a hot date with my two kid sisters!

Woohooo!

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Let Us Pray

It's now a whole year since British tot Madeleine McCann disappeared from her parents' holiday apartment at Praia da Luz, in Portugal's Algarve.

Clergymen have joined the McCanns in imploring us all to pray for the child's safe return.

I'm praying that we hear no more about it. And that if we do continue to hear about Madeleine, perhaps it will wise up other parents who might let the holiday mood take their eye off the ball.

EDIT: It seems that some people never learn. The day after this post, I learned that another British couple holidaying this week in the Algarve drank so much that they passed out. They were treated in hospital for alcohol poisoning, while their kids, a six-year-old and two tots, were in the care of authorities.

Great.

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You Fat Bastard!

I just watched an E4 documentary entitled Roy Chubby Brown: Britain's Rudest Comedian.

When I spotted the prog in the TV guide, I was both delighted and surprised. I don't recall ever having seen Chubby on network television before.

Dated 2007, the 50-minute film focussed on the life of the controversial comic, his Teeside childhood, his early decision to become a blue comic as distinct from a clean one, his cancer scare, his family and friends, and his unlikely appearance on The Frank Skinner Show. I was surprised and annoyed at Frank Skinner's chickenshit approach to the interview, saying that the racial element of Chubby's act upset him. That's great Frank, way to please the suits. Skinner's shitfaced comment dropped him in my estimation.

Before too long, it was clear that Will Yapp, the documentary's writer/producer/interviewer/narrator, set out knowing what his conclusion would be; then went on to dress up his film as an open-minded look at a controversial cult figure - Yapp gradually realising with dismay that Chubby Brown and Royston Vasey are virtually one and the same, personality-wise.

Well duh, Will. Stands to reason that comics are just regular guys with the volume cranked up. Your piece-of-shit propaganda film didn't fool me.

At no point did Chubby Brown claim that his personality/views are so very different from those of his onstage persona.

One last look at Will Yapp. I didn't find much about him online, other than that he makes films, which clearly I knew already. He looks caucasian in the pic I found, but judging by his name, I'm pretty sure he ain't purest Anglo-Saxon. So no-one had to pick me off the floor when he claimed to have been left 'cold' by the race stuff.

Right at the end, Yapp drew a decency distinction between sexual/sexist humour, and the race-based stuff, a distinction that was flimsy at best. He then implied that Chubby Brown is somehow political, and that he seeks to justify his act because it makes him a good living.

It's not in these obsessives' interest to accept that maybe people poke fun at the the things they do, simply because it's funny. So they try to blow smoke up everyone's ass. Gimme an honest racist over an evasive tight-ass any day of the week.

Are the do-gooders right? Look at the world since the PC wave began swamping us all. Has racial tension decreased? Has it bollocks.


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