You know things are bad when Joe the Plumber doesn’t show

Joe the Plumber: a staunch Republican? You might have thought so after he voiced his anger recently at Democrat Barack Obama’s proposed tax hit on those who earn over $250,000 a year.

However, it now seems Joe – who has become a leaning post for John McCain over recent weeks – has jumped ship…or missed the boat. I can't decide which.

Rallying today in Ohio, John McCain planned to bring out Joe for his supporters. The only problem was Joe wasn’t anywhere to be found. As the election draws nearer, what does that say about McCain’s presidential hopes?

Why boys are allowed to enjoy Gossip Girl

Published on the Guardian's TV and Radio Blog - September 10th 2008

I'm a man – and I like Gossip Girl. It's taken weeks for me to admit to this, a watershed comparable to coming out as gay. Well, maybe it wasn't that traumatic - but there was certainly a considerable element of doubt about making my disclosure.

But why? To my knowledge, there is no disclaimer that precedes the programme – which began its second series in America last week – stating that only women are allowed to watch. Nor are there any obvious injunctions, subliminal or otherwise, that crop up during the show itself. Yet, as each episode of the first series rolled by, I couldn't help but wonder whether I was the only man watching.

Gossip Girl, for those who aren't aware, tells the story of a group of American teenagers who reside in New York's posh upper east side. They spend their summers in the Hamptons, their weekends (and, if I'm honest, week nights as well) taking drugs in night clubs and, when the programme makers feel like it, they attend school. They do all this dressed in clothes that make Sex and the City look like an extended TV advert for Primark.

As one might naturally expect from that synopsis, there isn't a person on the show who isn't a hottie. Each character, from Serena van der Woodsen to Chuck Bass, boasts a savage sexual appeal. Thankfully, however, it's all tempered by the only person the viewer never sees: Gossip Girl. The ruthless narrator documents every last detail about the lives of "Manhattan's elite" via blogs and text messages like a sordid fusion of Perez Hilton and Robin Hood – only she steals from the rich to give to the even richer.

If you followed the first series, then you'll know it all made for rather impeccable viewing. So why then have I found it so hard to admit being a fan?

It could be that shows like the aforementioned Sex and the City, and other recent examples such as Ugly Betty and The OC (whose creator, Josh Schwartz, helped bring Gossip Girl to life) are still being packaged with a female audience in mind. After all, the name, Gossip Girl, doesn't exactly read like a call to arms for the male population. But there's no doubt that all of these shows appeal to both sexes. You only have to look at the number of males who crawled out of the woodwork because the movie adaptation of Sex and the City couldn't arrive via home delivery.

While I have no doubt that as the second (third, fourth and no doubt fifth… ) series of Gossip Girl hits the screens, more males will admit to being a fan of the show. I just wish we could do it earlier – at least then I'd have someone to talk to about Serena's infuriating relationship with Dan Humphrey. After all, they're meant to be together. Aren't they?

School's In: Why it's never been so good to be young at heart

They say your school days are the best days of your life. A period in time that you can never relive, just remember fondly (in some cases). They lied. In 2008, we're all cool enough for school again – or, at least, that's what the BBC think.

On Tuesday, the broadcaster unveiled Coming of Age - another programme to add to the growing list of school-based dramas that have graced our screens in recent years. But before we all go and dig out our yearbooks again, isn't it time someone asked just why we're subject to all this pre-adolescent TV? And more to the point, does anyone actually want to see what life is like from a teenager's perspective?

"Well actually, Yes sir, I do."

I have to admit, I was intrigued when it was revealed that Coming of Age had been commissioned for BBC3's autumn schedule. Not because the seal on the envelope containing Grange Hill's letter of expulsion had barely stuck, but because this is a school drama written by a teenager for teenagers, and, if its 10.30pm time slot suggests anything, the rest of us as well.

In the first episode we were introduced to our hapless and horrendously horny bunch as they prepared to embark on their final year of sixth form. Although a little rough around the edges – I'm not sure if the word "shagnificant" will make it into the dictionary anytime soon - 19-year-old Tim Dawson's writing provided a frivolous look at adolescence. At all times you could have cut the testosterone with a knife. Romances were kindled, re-kindled, consummated and debated – all of which left little time for actual learning. But isn't that the point?

You only need to take a look at the alternatives to see that the last thing we want our school dramas to do is actually teach us something. Waterloo Road, which has given Neil Morrissey's career a sort of rebirth, is really a study of teachers' relationships with their co-workers, as was Channel 4's Teachers. The Inbetweeners, meanwhile, like Coming of Age, is another show about teenagers' schoolyard hijinks. And a fabulous one, I might add. Just about every example from America – from Saved By The Bell to Boy Meets The World – also plays by the same textbook: a second wasted in the classroom is a potential chance of love spurned.

And that's exciting to watch. We all love TV when it exaggerates experiences we've all been through, especially memories from our childhood. Although it's the time when we form most of the foundations of our future, it's also when we live without inhibition. These programmes all magnify that.

Whether or not Coming of Age proves to be a winner for the BBC remains unclear. While it could turn out to be a shining star for the broadcaster, it could just as easily find itself sitting in the Headmasters office come the end of term. One thing is certain though; there will be another school drama waiting to take its place. Every year has one.

Paul Newman: The legacy will always be ours for the watching

22 years of my life had past before I watched ‘Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’, arguably the late Paul Newman’s greatest film. Despite a ringing endorsement from my father, who won’t mind me saying that he’s not exactly the biggest movie buff, my mother, and just about everyone else I know, the 1969 film always eluded me. That changed on Sunday.

As I’m sure was the case for many, Saturday’s news that Newman had died following a lengthy battle with cancer came as a shock. Not only was the actor one of the few remaining Hollywood icons; he was a devout family man and self-effacing charity worker whose legacy off the screen will probably last as long, if not longer, than his work on it.

My first introduction to Newman came in the movie adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. While the novel is a masterpiece in itself, I found Newman’s portrayal of Brick Pollitt nothing short of spellbinding - those blue eyes piercing through the tense narrative like a knife through butter. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a waterfall of Newman films followed. Cool Hand Luke, The Colour of Money, Road to Petition – but never Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

I finally decided to change that after listening to Robert Redford’s tribute to Newman on Saturday. Redford, Newman’s co-star in Butch Cassidy and also the 1973 film The Sting, told Entertainment Tonight he had “lost a real friend” on Friday. "My life - and this country - is better for his being in it,” he added. If there was ever a moment to watch the film then this was it. I’m not sure who was more excited to be watching the film as I put it in the DVD player on Sunday afternoon.

Both my parents - now extremely thankful that I visited them for the weekend – appeared during the opening credits. “Oh, I’ll just watch the first 15 minutes,” my Mum said. She never moved for the next 105.

Now I can understand why they were two of the people who recommended it so highly. Butch Cassidy is unlike any other Western I’ve ever seen – a genuine one off. The sinuous plot, based loosely on the true tales of the Hole in the Wall gang, feels secondary to the on screen relationship between Newman (Butch Cassidy) and Redford (The Sundance Kid). Both actors share the kind of chemistry that’s as rare as their individual talents. The shared glances, intrepid smiles and delicious one-liners are overwhelmingly refreshing and unnervingly natural. My only disappointment was that it took me so long to discover it.

Hollywood may have just lost one of its true greats, but Newman’s legacy will always be with us; it will always be ours for the watching, no matter how long it takes.

Are we ready for our Heroes to become Villains?

“In every hero there could be a villain.”

Fans of Heroes beware. As the above eight words suggest, our favourite gang of ordinary people with extraordinary abilities are about to turn nasty.

After a chapter of the good, Genesis (which saw them save the world), and a chapter of the bad, Generations (where they again scrambled to save the planet, this time from a highly contagious virus), things are about to turn ugly - our Heroes are set to become villains. But the question is: are we ready?

Like its two predecessors, the next chapter in the Heroes series, Villains, which begins on Wednesday (October 1st), arrives not without a hint of expectation. Like thousands of other fans who have followed the adventures of the Petrelli brothers and co since the show first began in America in 2006, I have spent much of the summer scouring the Internet for spoilers.

Our first clue about Villains came during the finale of Generations. In a dark alley, Sylar (Zachary Quinto), after a series of relative superhero impotence, regained his ability to absorb the powers of others. And soon after the chapter’s conclusion, the aforementioned strap line – “In every hero there could be a villain” – appeared in a short teaser for Chapter three which also projected the words “Hero” and “Villain” over various characters’ faces. Ever since, the Internet has been awash with rumours – aided largely by programme creator Tim Kring, who seems incapable of keeping stum – as to what Villains will have in store.

Some fans, for whom speculating about the show seems almost as invigorating as actually watching it, believe Villains will the making of the show, while for others it’s all become a bit too much already. “This is confusing,” wrote one anxious person of some leaked pictures apparently taken on the Heroes set. “I need to start staying away from the spoilers.”

Throughout this period, I’ve tended to maintain a degree of caution as well. I like my heroes - so why should I have to watch them turn against each other?

Well, as many of comic books that Heroes so skilfully re-imagines show, those blessed with special abilities more often than not develop an urge to experiment with them. Everyone from Batman to other, more merciless anti-heroes such as Marvel Comic’s Namor the Sub-Mariner possessed an irrefutable dark side. And the reality is that Villains has been bubbling under the surface since the beginning.

After experimenting with evil of Sylar in Genesis, Kring and his team of writers explored the notion that superheroes weren’t just a force for good in more detail in Generations. Although cut short due to the WGA Writer’s strike, the chapter focussed on the links between the Company - a secret organisation which tracks down and then studies those blessed with extra ordinary powers - and our heroes, many of whom grew restless with their abilities as the series progressed.

If the teaser is to be believed, in Chapter Three this agitation will see a number of the show’s main characters step over to the dark side. While that’s a tantalising thought for some, spare a thought for those who still believe that sparing the life of a cheerleader will save the world. Or is that just me?

This message is "totally hot"...

Paris Hilton responds to John McCain’s negative campaigning. Yes, PARIS HILTON.

Can't you just leave the jacket at Number 10, Gordon?

As we all know, there is something quite irritating about Gordon Brown at the best (and worst) of times. He’s a Prime Minister in charge of a country at a time when the cost of living is soaring, house prices are falling and global relations are, to say the least, tepid.

Yet, last week, at a press call during his family holiday, Mr Brown took his level of irritation and ratified it to new levels. He wore a blazer.

Now, I’m not saying that Mr Brown should have posed for the press in his Speedos (that’s presuming he owns a pair), but anything a little less formal than a cream blazer, unbuttoned white shirt and blue chinos would have done. He wouldn’t have to look far for inspiration either.

Let’s take a look at some examples:

His predecessor, Tony Blair, spent many of his summer holidays in pair of jeans.











Mr Brown’s current rival, David Cameron, could probably have lent him some of his shorts.










Barack Obama, the American president elect who Mr Brown just loves to (secretly) loath, can unbutton his shirt without, gasp, having to hide his neck with the lapels of an M&S jacket.












And that’s just a few.

The reality is, of course, that a person’s wardrobe, and what clothes they choose to take from it, is dependent heavily on their current state of mind. And, as we have established, Mr Brown’s is not in a good place.

With his position becoming more and more untenable, we have to face the fact that Gordon is going to want to keep that jacket on. After all, it’s a symbolic image of a man in control. But, and this is a BIG but, when Mr Brown adopted that image best, he was standing in the shadows of a Prime Minister who, from every now and again, knew when it was time to let his neck breathe more easily.

Feist Makes Debut On Sesame Street

She might have claimed every major music prize of the last twelve months but the major accolade for Feist arrives this month in the shape of a guest appearance on Sesame Street.

Proving herself to be a consummate professional in the presence of furry animals being manhandled by human beings, she puts in a brave showing while performing a special rendition of ‘1,2,3,4’.

This could be bigger than her Apple advert.



And if it’s possible to fair better than most when making a guest appearance on Sesame Street, then Feist certainly has in comparison to James Blunt.

Here he is reminiscing about a beautiful triangle as opposed to a beautiful, er, girl.

The Satirical Portrait Of Barack Obama

One imagines that Barack Obama probably choked on his Wheaties when he unwrapped his copy of the New Yorker this week. On the cover of the magazine, the democratic presidential hopeful is depicted giving his wife, Michelle, a fist bump in the Oval Office while dressed in traditional Muslim garb. As if it couldn’t get any worse for the couple, Mrs Obama is dressed as a terrorist and an American flag can be seen burning in the fireplace beneath a painting of Osama Bin Laden.

It’s a poignant, not to mention controversial, cover. Why? Well, it’s arrived at a time when the race to become the next US president had, as one writer recently put it, entered post-post 9/11 territory. Considering the events of that day in September 2001 have shaped the America’s foreign policy in the seven years that have followed, the subject of 9/11 has rarely surfaced during election year. It seems that Americans are content with burying, but not forgetting, the bad memories.

This will bring them flooding back, however, along with Obama’s unfortunate ‘ties’ to the attacks on New York and Washington – from his middle name – Hussein – and the unfortunate similarity his surname has with Osama to his former religious relationship with Pastor Jeremiah Wright.

But one thing we won’t see is John McCain jumping on the New Yorker’s bandwagon. The republicans have already criticised the magazine, while Obama’s camp has called it "tasteless and offensive".

The magazine's response?

It says the cover "combines a number of fantastical images about the Obamas and shows them for the obvious distortions they are."

It remains to be seen as to whether the rest of America sees it that way.

The coolest pair of shoes in the world?

It’s no surprise that Converse have decided to use Julian Casablancas to celebrate its 100th birthday. After all, his band did single handedly bring the shoe back into fashion seven years ago.



The Strokes - 'Last Nite' (TOTP Live)

Zoo8 – A Shambles, But An Honest One At That

There must have been a moment last weekend when the organisers of the Zoo8 festival thought their safest bet was to lock themselves in the Tiger enclosure at Port Lympne Wild Animal Park in Kent. With artists including Dizzee Rascal and Athlete dropping out over contractual obligations, music tents falling down and drinking water more scarce, if some fan reports are true, than the most sweltering parts of rural Africa, it would have seemed like the easy way out.

Yet on Monday, Danny Blanche and Matt Dice, the festival’s co-directors, who promised in the build-up to the event that it would mix live music with “ferocious, fearsome and friendly animals”, spoke out. They did, after all, have a lot to answer to.

Not least the complaints from festivalgoers - many of whom had already aired their grievances while the festival was still taking place on rapidly constructed Facebook groups. “HOURS OF QUEUEING, CAMPSITE DREADFUL,” wrote one mother, on behalf of her “tired” daughter. Others complained about bands dropping out with no notice; that staff had little idea about arrangements; that the toilets were “grim” and that Ben Fogle was seen jiving with a monkey in the Dance tent. Ok, so the last complaint isn’t real (I don’t think).

In response to the tidal wave of critics and, I imagine, with a large intake of breath, Mr Blanche said on Monday: "Obviously, none of this was ideal or planned - and not the quality of experience that we had aimed to deliver - and for that we unreservedly apologise to all those affected by the situation.”

It was the perfect, polished apology. Yet, what I found so interesting reading their full statement was not so much the humbleness of the apologies but their openness in admitting as to what the real cause of the problem had been - “cash-flow”.

"Our biggest problem was one of miscalculation over cash-flow," Mr Blanche stated, possibly in the company of his bank manager, we may never know.

Under that admission, I believe, bubbles the biggest single problem to hit the British festival calendar in recent years: over-saturation. Festivals, no matter how big or small, are everywhere. If you’re counting, there are about 500 in the UK. A good thing you may argue. Well try telling that to the promoters who have pulled their events because of similar “cash-flow” miscalculations. Or the festivalgoers who have found themselves lost in fields of frustration, not love, this summer.

Aside from Zoo8, one of the biggest casualties on this summer’s festival calendar so far was Wild in the Country. The festival, which was also meant to happen last weekend, was cancelled late last week, not because headliner Bjork had dropped out over production concerns, but because it had become the latest victim of a “unique and well-documented set of market forces.” Another festival due to take place this summer, this time in Belfast, made a similar announcement last month. One of the organisers of Tennent’s Vital, which in the past has welcomed the Killers and Kings of Leon, said it had been cancelled because the festival had struggled to secure "top acts within a climate of apparent over-saturated scheduling of talent at this level.” In other words, there are too many competitors.

It seems ironic that in a summer that has seen the re-birth of Glastonbury, Britain’s most iconic festival, the season may well go down as one of the most unsuccessful in recent memory for those simply hoping to establish their name. Yet, who is to blame here? Should the organisers of new festivals check their diary before booking the nearest animal park? Or should the industry look at sharing out the pool of talent? You never know, it might be quite fun watching Oasis headline Longleat in 2009.

Jay-Z at Glastonbury – Wait Till He Gets His Little Black Book Out

I’m confused. Am I the only person who thinks that Jay-Z headlining the Glastonbury Festival is a good idea? It has certainly felt that way following the intense media speculation that has surrounded the US rapper’s billing at the event, which, if you can fathom it, was confirmed all the way back in February.

When it was announced, the festival’s organiser Michael Eavis said that Jay-Z’s presence would help Glastonbury “break with tradition”. I subconsciously nodded with him as I read it. ‘Yes, I can see that happening,’ I thought to myself. Over the weeks that followed, however, it soon became clear that not many people endorsed his, or my now closet, opinion on the matter. Festivalgoers protested, ticket sales on previous years plummeted and, if your name was Noel Gallagher, you didn’t just assault Jay-Z, you declared that the idea of hip-hop at Glastonbury was just “wrong” full stop. “I'm sorry, but Jay-Z? No chance,” Gallagher moaned to the BBC, before saying that throwing “the odd curve ball” like Kylie Minogue was all right actually. Ok, Noel.

Suffice to say, I don’t agree with Gallagher. Not only are his comments misinformed (the percentage of traditional and non-traditional hip-hop acts at past Glastonbury’s has actually been quite high), they got me thinking as to just why people are actually offended. After all, has no one spared a thought as to whom Jay-Z could bring with him to Glastonbury?

Wife aside (the rapper recently married long-term girlfriend Beyonce) Jay-Z’s got a black book of collaborators that should actually make his appearance at Glastonbury the most anticipated in years. First of all, there’s the modern day Glastonbury messiah himself, Chris Martin. Not only has the Coldplay frontman had experience of fronting a band on the festival’s Pyramid Stage, but he also worked with Jay-Z on the rapper’s 2006 album ‘Kingdom Come’. Yes, his appearance on ‘Beach Chair’ might have been rather minimal and, if I’m honest, not particularly great, but theirs is a friendship that goes deep. Martin and his wife, Hollywood actress Gwyneth Paltrow, have been the first to defend the rapper’s booking, for example. When asked recently if Coldplay should be headlining instead of Jay-Z, Martin revoked any suggestion, saying “the best musician on the planet” was already at the top of the bill.

If further proof was needed about the possibility of Martin making an appearance at Worthy Farm then you should look no further than the fact that Coldplay have just suspiciously delayed the start of their US tour. Originally scheduled to begin on June 29th, ‘production problems’ have now pushed it back until mid-July.

Of course, if Jay-Z really wants to bring the guitar music that Noel Gallagher claims defines Glastonbury, then I’m sure he’ll put in a phone call to Linkin Park. In theory, with both acts due to play together in Milton Keynes the day after Jay-Z’s Glastonbury performance, this collaboration, originally united on the 2004 mash-up album ‘Collision Course’, really should happen.

But what if Jay-Z decides to stick to hip-hop? He has, after all, been quoted as saying that the traditional “barriers” created by music genres no longer apply to kids who listen to music in 2008. Well, if that’s the case, then the rapper’s set at Glastonbury could run into the Verve’s slot on Sunday. Kanye West, Mary J Blige, R Kelly, Rihanna, P Diddy…you name them, Jay-Z’s friends with all of them.

To me, all this doesn’t add up to the most controversial Glastonbury booking of all time, it adds up to potentially the most tantalising. And even if Jay-Z chooses to turn up with a DJ and a box of backing records, it will still be remembered as the year Glastonbury truly embodied its own philosophy: to stimulate culture in all its musical forms.

Michelle Obama may wear her heart on her sleeve but she keeps her answers in her pocket

It took 10 minutes of tentative, borderline serious questions before Michelle Obama was treated like any other normal guest on America’s all female, all empowering daytime soapbox The View.

In what has to be the best episode of the programme since her husband put in an appearance earlier this year, Mrs Obama was questioned on everything from her sleek style to whether Mr Obama would install Hillary Clinton as his running mate.

Unsurprisingly she ducked that question, providing an answer that was long in word but void of substance. She’s a political charmer no doubt. And someone that certainly knows what she has to say to in order to actually say very little.

Coldplay – ‘Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends’

If singer Chris Martin is to believed, then, in 2006, the world came very close to losing Coldplay. In a recent interview to promote his band’s fourth album, Martin (who it should be said has a reputation for exasperated self-deprecation) claimed that the foundations of Coldplay were crumbling to such an extent as touring for their last album, ‘X&Y’, drew to an end that they had stopped talking to each other altogether. Too many “swanky dinners” and endless award ceremonies had, according to the singer, left Coldplay in a state of disrepair, and left Martin wanting to “erase the past.”

Upon reflection, Martin’s recent comments seem to carry some weight. When Coldplay picked up Best Album and Single honors at the 2006 Brit Awards, the singer famously told the crowd that the band wouldn’t be seen again for “many, many years”. Despite selling 10 million copies of ‘X&Y’, Coldplay were apparently “fed up”. As a stunned television global audience tuned in, Coldplay’s record label EMI quickly, and understandably, revoked Martin’s words – highlighting that the band owed them two more records.

After all that negativity, and subliminal claims of a hiatus, it comes as a surprise that one of those records has arrived a little over two years later. Even more of a surprise though, is the fact that on the elaborately titled, ‘Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends’, Coldplay sound so coherent and united. This is not the sound of four men “fed up” with their careers; it’s the sound of four men clambering to reclaim them.

But how have they achieved this? Well, whereas Martin has paid tribute to the bands re-alliance with former manager and friend Phil Harvey, who ducked out of proceedings for the stadium targeting ‘X&Y’, the more astute are more likely to spotlight the influence of producers Brian Eno and Markus Dravs. Both bring their oblique, yet uplifting renaissances of sound to ‘Viva La Vida…’. Eno, for example, provides it on the quite haunting ‘42’, which develops from a sparse piano introduction into a sonic burst of strings and tech-guitar, while Dravs frequently gives Coldplay what he once gave Arcade Fire: unnerving confidence (‘Viva La Vida’). The fact that ‘Viva La Vida…’ opens with an instrumental (‘Life In Technicolor’) probably says a lot about Coldplay’s intentions with this album.

Whereas Martin was once the predominant force driving the band’s music – one thinks of his piano instrumentals in ‘Clocks’ and ‘Shiver’, or even his acoustic guitar in ‘Yellow’ – the rest of Coldplay, particularly guitarist Johnny Buckland, have all come to the fore this time around. Buckland’s guitar chortles menacingly in ‘Cemeteries of London’, which sees Martin cast an eye over a dark capital city, and disports wildly on first single ‘Violet Hill’. There’s even a nod to the Hispanic surroundings that much of the album was crafted in on the deeply sung ‘Yes’, before the faint calling of a Scottish piper crops up later on ‘Strawberry Swing’.

If there’s one area where Coldplay fail to show much progression on ‘Viva La Vida…’, it’s in Martin’s songwriting. Yes he’s broadened his lyrical landscape to challenge everything from religion to the meaning of life and death, but it often comes across as one step too far. “You might be a big fish in a little pond,” he sings on ‘Lost’, before adding: “It doesn’t mean you’ve won, because along may come a bigger one.” Although the symbolism is there, Martin still lacks the ability to link his intentions together with any real sense.

But, that said, ‘Viva La Vida…’ on the whole is a fantastically unexpected and spontaneous comeback from a band that never really went away. Martin has said that the intention with the record was to get better, not bigger; and, for once, it’s hard not to take him seriously.

Released – 12/06/2008
4 Stars

This review was originally published on Tuesday June 10th here.

Five O'Clock Heroes & Agyness Deyn: This Summer's New Look

Clutching a comforting cup of tea, Anthony Ellis is recalling the first time he met Agyness Deyn. It was, he says enthusiastically, “four or five years ago” in a kitchen in the North of England where he was touring with his band the Five O’Clock Heroes. “She had longer hair,” he remembers, leaning over to signal just how long with his hand, “and she was very sweet even then.” As he continues to describe the encounter, which came some time before Deyn was proclaimed by fashion critics as the next Kate Moss, Deyn chats away obliviously to the man beside her. That man is Sam Embery, the band’s drummer - someone with whom she shares a sibling like bond.

As they giggle at a private joke, Ellis glances at them like a proud father. “You crazy kids,” he says, as if right on cue, before returning to his story. “I remember it very well and then when she came to New York, Sam was actually there at the time and those two would hang around a lot.” Seemingly, invigorated at the mention of her comrade, Deyn switches conversations. “We used to run around New York together,” she enthuses, in her sweet Mancunian accent, “we’d be like the kids and he’d be like go play, go play.”

All three are gathered together on an uncomfortable sofa in East London to talk about Deyn’s collaboration on Five O’Clock Heroes new single ‘Who’, a task that is made harder by the fact that all are nursing hangovers of differing intensities. It has, after all, been a heady few days. “It’s been so much fun though,” says Deyn, who has taken a break from her modelling career to help the band promote the single. “It’s felt like a month, this week, because we’ve been so busy.”

‘Who’ is the first song to be taken from the bands new album ‘Speak Your Language’, which, by Ellis’s own admission, is a far fuller record than their debut ‘Bend To The Breaks’, which was released in 2006. The guitars rhythms are more complex, the drum patterns steely and infectious, and the experimentation with brass has given Five O’Clock Heroes a far greater depth. Of course, it’s Deyn’s collaboration that for the moment has garnered all the attention, however. Which is something that, until this week, hadn’t even crossed Deyn’s mind.

“No because we were always like…I’ve been learning guitar for like a few years already and Anthony’s always been helping me with my music anyway, you know, so that was never really an issue,” she says. “But, I think, in the last week it’s been like shit - this is a bit crazy. Especially how fast it’s happened - from us messing around in the studio, having a laugh doing it and then how fast it’s gone from then to now, and now we’re here playing gigs and it’s kind of like a bit unbelievable, it’s really crazy.”

‘Who’ was never consciously written with Deyn in mind. It was originally the produce of a writing session that Ellis had with a French friend and it was only after Deyn heard the original version at his apartment in New York that Ellis decided to translate it. Already it’s proved to be a wise move. On the night before we meet, the band, and Deyn, pre-recorded a performance on Channel 4’s Sunday Night Project. A slot they could have only dreamed of in the past.

“We, the band, we’ve never had anything like that and that’s amazing,” admits Ellis, sincerely. “It was really special, I thought it was a really special moment actually.” Deyn and Embery start chuckling at Ellis’s sensitivity, in the way that children find it hard to grasp that parents can be sentimental. “It was emotional for my manager, she’s been with us for a long time,” he adds. “The thing is, because we’ve come from such an organic sort of start, it makes it so much more…” Ellis is clearly struggling for words now. “Everybody was there backstage, it was really nice. It was a really fun night actually.”

Anthony Ellis was born in England but moved to New York when he was nineteen. His arrival in 2000 came on the eve of the city’s most recent musical renaissance, which saw the emergence of bands like The Strokes, The White Stripes and Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Having moved to the city with the intention of developing a music career, Ellis suddenly found himself right in the middle of it. He was there, for example, when The Strokes played their infamous residency at the Mercury Lounge, and like everyone else present, he knew we was witnessing a significant cultural and musical moment. “They were all good looking,” he recalls, to Deyn’s obvious approval. “And they were setting up their own equipment and I was like, all I saw was their drums and I thought, ‘that’s a cool logo’, you know, and then they started. They had some serious energy in those days, they had energy, real energy, and were hugely influential on every New York band – it goes without saying.”

Inspired by what as happening around him, Ellis established Five O’Clock Heroes with similarly like-minded and enlightened people who also found themselves in New York at the right time. Although they eventually recorded a debut album, albeit with no money and therefore no studio time, the band have as yet failed to capture the same success as the bands that were so influential in their formation. Spend time with Ellis, who has a hint of the Julian Casablancas about him in the flesh, however, and it’s clear he has no intention on giving up.

Deyn shares his belief as well, that’s why the model isn’t concerned by claims that the band are using her profile to further their own career. “It brings a different dynamic to it as well, do you know what I mean?” she says, rhetorically. “And it is what it is, people can say stuff, whatever, but if you listened to all that stuff then you’d never do anything in life. You shouldn’t think maybe I shouldn’t do that because you know somebody is gonna be like, ‘that’s no good’.”

Having appeared on the cover of both the British and American editions of Vogue and been heralded as the face of her generation all before her twenty-sixth birthday, Deyn knows this better than most. She is very clever, for example, on the occasions that I enquire about her modelling career. With an innocent flicker of her eyelids and ruffle of her peroxide hair, she’ll answer the question for as long as she needs to, which is usually a sentence on fashion followed by three about music. But then Deyn loves music. Having been groomed by her brother in the history of Manchester bands – The Stones Roses, Oasis, Happy Mondays - she’s already got her own band in the pipeline and is often at Ellis’s apartment playing him her new material. “In a strange way she’s going through a phase of writing, like I was a long time ago and she’s always really excited to hear it back, to play it to people,” Ellis says, sounding slightly parental again. “Some of it’s weird and some of its great. No matter what it is it’s interesting because she is just a generally creative person.”

As talk turns to the rest of the year and the series of shows that Deyn will play with the band over the summer, I ask her how her initiation week in the world of music has compared to her modelling career. “Yeah, I kind of like it better,” she replies, sounding a little shy about her admission. Why? “I suppose it’s more manly,” she says, laughing loudly. It’s clear that, despite claiming to be "no Whitney Houston”, Deyn doesn’t want this to end when she boards the plane back to New York. “She definitely wants to go on the road,” Ellis says. “She can handle it, she’s proper hardcore. It’s just a question of time because she’s really, really busy.” Deyn nervously pulls at her dress. “But I’m prepared to be unbusy.”

The original article, published on Monday 16th June 2008, can be found here.

Why do theme songs pull at my heart strings?

I recently watched The Inbetweeners for the first time. It follows the lives of four teenage boys at sixth form and it is VERY FUNNY. Described as an anti-Skins – i.e. these kids are normal – it follows Jay, Simon, Will and Neil as they embark on the final years of their school life and a desperate bid to lose their virginity.

Like I said, it is VERY FUNNY and I fully recommend it. I’m writing though because it has one of those theme tunes that I stirs my emotions when I hear it. It’s by a band called MorningRunner – they are now defunct – and is little more than a guitar tune with three notes on a piano thrown in. It got me thinking; does a theme tune only become emotional if the programme it’s on means something to you? Or can you vehemently hate a show and still find yourself balling your eyes out during the opening credits?

Anyway, here’s the song. (It’s instrumental on the show – I’m not sure it’s so good with lyrics.)

Will The Irish Go Green over the Lisbon Treaty?

I’ve not seen campaigning like I saw in Ireland over the controversial Lisbon Treaty for a long time. In fact, I’m not sure I remember ever seeing so many lampposts decorated with political propaganda and so many members of the public being fed information by various campaign groups.

So what is the Lisbon Treaty? Well that appears to be the question on the lips of most Irish citizens who have spent today voting on it. In short, it’s designed to bring the members of Europe closer together, and therefore allowing newly inducted Eastern European countries to integrate with their new western neighbors more easily. Of course, however, it’s not that easy. Much of the Treaty, which is widely regarded as complicated and unreadable, says that to achieve this countries would have to surrender many of their veto powers.

It’s this not so small print that has parts of Ireland shouting ‘Yes!’ and an increasing number shouting ‘No!!’

When I was in Dublin last weekend, the ‘no’ campaign was gaining moment – the people of Ireland, it seems, were awakening to the fact that surrendering power is not always a good thing. The ‘yes’ campaign, which is supported by the countries government, were on the back foot. But that looks set to change by tomorrow, early Exit polls are predicting a win for the ‘yes’ folks – as long as turnout is high. If it’s low then Europe faces the grave reality that one of its members, once a passionate supporter of its cause, may have a population that doesn’t want to be there. I’m sure I’ll blog on this when the result comes in tomorrow.

Whoever wins, from what I saw campaign democracy is alive and kicking in Ireland, which is more than can be said for the UK.

Dat's Wad I'm Talkin' About

So Lee has won The Apprentice. As expected, the man who lied on his CV and spent the interview process erupting like a Dinosaur on heat, took the glory.

Claire, my tip, was second. She looks sad as a type but somewhat resplendent and ablaze with curls on the ‘You’re Hired’ show. It must be the BBC make-up department.

Apparently, Lee is going to spend his £100,000 a year salary leasing a Porsche, paying his mother’s gas bills and, if Sir Alan lets him, a two week holiday in South Africa. I don’t know, already asking for time off.

Anyway, it’s over – for another year at least. And that certainly is as kosher as Christmas.

Who will win the Apprentice?

The live final of The Apprentice is on in a minute.

Prediction for the win?

Sir Alan – he’s come out of every series as the real winner.

If we're talking real contestant, however, I think he'll go for Claire. She's shown herself to be a tenacious, gritty businesswoman. Even if, at times, her personality is unbearable.

Radiohead’s environmental initiatives bring people closer together

I’m standing so close to a woman I don’t know that if I were anywhere else, and in any country, I’d probably be being read my rights now. Where am I? I’m on Dublin’s Dart, a cross-link over-ground railway that cuts through the Irish capital, on my way to a Radiohead gig and this, apparently, is an eco-friendly way of getting there.

If I’m honest, I wouldn’t normally think about the most environmentally friendly way of getting to a gig – it’s normally just a car, train or foot journey to a venue and back. For this concert, however, I feel compelled to. Why?

Well, ahead of Radiohead’s current world tour the band issued a very thorough set of eco-friendly guidelines that people going to one of their gigs should follow in order to minimise their carbon footprint. They said, for example, that, where possible, fans should consider public transport or increased car sharing. As if this wasn’t enough, the day before I left for Dublin an email arrived to remind me in even more detail. It read like the Ten Commandments, only written by Thom Yorke and not Moses.

1. Thou shall ride a bicycle and take advantage of the big bicycle park.
2. Thou shall take advantage of the extra trains.
3. Thou shall use a shuttle bus.
4. Thou shall kill anyone seen getting into a car…and so on.

OK, so I made the last one up, but this was still a very comprehensive list.

Consequently, I set off to the concert last Saturday with some trepidation, with only my friend, who lives in the city, for company. We arrived at Killester station, a quaint little place where I imagine that the electronic ticket machine is still a novelty, to see one of the “extra trains” pull into the platform. We froze. “Is it normally like this?” I ask, as I look at a woman’s face creased against one of the train’s windows. My friend doesn’t reply vocally – words aren’t needed at moments like this.

Suffice to say, the next 20 minutes are spent in the bosom of an Irish woman I’ve never met, glancing to my left only to see what the chance of Malahide being the next station is – which, for seven stops, it isn’t.

Despite the journey, which improved a little on the way back, I can’t complain about my first eco-friendly gig. I’ve never walked into a concert so swiftly; been treated with such warmth; or, seen better use of recyclable paper cups at any other outdoor European event. And Radiohead weren’t bad either. Blimey, I guess this means I’m an eco-friendly gig goer now, which, by all accounts, brings everyone just a little closer together.

It's the purest chocolate in the world...or so I'm told

I don’t normally fall for TV programmes that are cunningly disguised as an extended advert for a new product. I say normally because recently I did. The programme in question was Willie’s Wonky Chocolate Factory. Over four weeks, it followed the trials and tribulations of Willie Harcourt-Cooze, whose ambition in life is to establish a genuine independent chocolate factory in Britain that sells 100% bars of cacao – which are, essentially, chocolate in its purest form, according to Mr Harcourt-Cooze.

From Venezuela (where he owns a farm that grows the beans) to Devon (where he owns the factory that makes the bars), the show followed Harcourt-Cooze and his wife and children every step of the way. Like all reality TV shows, it was nail-biting stuff. Would the banks lend him enough money? Would he get the antique 20th century machines up and running in time? Would he get to the end of episode two without a request for a divorce from his wife? The drama, as expected, was relentless.

As with all these shows, however, the real cliffhanger – and in a sense the reality – is whether the public will go and buy the product afterwards.

Unsurprisingly, in Harcourt-Cooze’s case, they did. He’s blessed with the kind of infectious, lively and often infuriating personality that would enable him to sell you your own left arm. For those who didn’t watch the show, his product, Venezuelan Black, went on sale in Selfridges shortly after the series ended – a handy coincidence giving that most episodes saw him plead with the London store’s buyer in a sort of inverted Oliver Twist way: “Please sir, can I give you some more.”

Initial runs, made by Harcourt-Cooze and co (his family) at his Devon factory, were snapped up like hot chocolate cakes. It seemed that people couldn’t get enough of his infectious, lively and…well, you get the picture. I found this out when I went down to the store myself to purchase a bar only to have an ashen-faced assistant tell me that, “We’re all out at the minute.”

“When will you be getting some more?” I asked. “In about two weeks,” she replied, the pound signs with little images of Willie on scrolling in her eyes.

Over the following four weeks, I returned to Selfridges most Sundays. In fact, I became such a regular that either the same assistant was waiting for me next to the empty shelf or the same security guard was waiting to usher me out. Thankfully, with legal prosecution and a restraining order looming, last Sunday I got lucky.

I’m now looking at the bars as I write. They’re cylindrical, immaculately wrapped with shiny black paper and gold foil but, worryingly, are still unopened. The closest I’ve come to sampling the product was when I peeled back some of the foil for a sniff. It smelt funny though. Quite pure – he did say it would – and a bit pungent – I don’t remember him saying that. I wrapped it back up, neatly trying to retrace the faultless folds.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased I got my chocolate – all fourteen pounds of it - the only problem is, I don’t know what to do with it. I certainly remember seeing the fantastic recipes that were so cleverly embedded in the documentary about Willie’s chocolate dream, but I don’t know whether I can be bothered to actually make one. And his website might tell me that “Venezuelan Black can be used in a multitude of ways, enriching anything from aromatic truffles, cakes and creamy hot chocolate to dark savoury sauces, gravy and casseroles,” just to entice me a little bit more, but coupling chocolate up with most of those products just sounds wrong.

The latest on Willie Harcourt-Cooze's Venezuelan Black is that his product line is now available in 120 Waitrose stores across the UK. I can’t help thinking, however, that, like me, a lot of other people will get no further than sniffing their purchase. Either that, or a lot of mothers will find themselves adding 100% cacao to the gravy at Christmas. I know mine will.

One last toast...

Arriving back in London at London Bridge underground station last night (May 31st) was a bizarre feeling. I’d been gone just 24 hours, yet in that time the tube seemed to have become a mini-underground drinking den.

Why? Well it was the last night before the consumption of alcohol on the London underground network became illegal. Consequently, everyone was having a party. Pausing songs on my iPod in between choruses so that I could hear people’s drunken conversations was a rather bizarre feeling – like most Friday or Saturday nights on the tube, only this time everyone was drunk.

Nothing compared to the drinking games in my carriage, however, which involved one group of friends playing chicken with the tube doors at each stop. “Let’s get off here,” shouted the floppy haired leader. The six friends then scuttled onto the platform only to hop back on just as the bleeping began to signify that the doors were closing. They chuckled loudly – the alcohol clearly adding an element of danger to the whole game.

This is arguably mayor Boris Johnson’s biggest decision since being elected last month; yet, you can’t help but think just how hard it will be to police. Having lived in London for over a year, I’ve spent many hours on the tube late at night and have on many occasions got from A to B without seeing a single police officer. And now we’re expected to believe that no one will enter the network and consume a single drop of Strongbow (the preferred drink of choice last night)?

I’ve just found a video of last nights ‘celebrations’. Clearly Edgware road is the new Wetherspoons.

MPs Vote For The Creation Of Hybrid Embryos

MPs have voted against a bill banning the use of human-animal embryos in the House of Commons. The so-called ‘Frankenstein’ embryos – more commonly known as hybrid embryos - are created by injecting human nuclei into animal eggs and they can grow for up to 14 days.

The stem cells created can be harvested and used to create brain, skin, heart and other tissue for treating diseases - Is this too far though?

Well it isn’t according to PM Gordon Brown, who pledged his support to the science in an article in the Observer yesterday. 336 MPs are understood to have voted against any amendment to the bill tonight.

The Government are trying to update laws from the 1990s in a bid to bring science into line with technological advances but at what cost?

It’s an interesting issue. Everyone knows someone who has been affected by disease and would naturally wish that something could have been done to help improve, and possible cure, the person’s condition.

Like anything, however, there’s no short term answer.

Tonight’s decision will lead to new research, that’s a given. But just how long it will take before the research provides some answers remains to be seen.

John McCain: This is where the competition begins...

He might have won the Republican party's support to run for the next President of America but John McCain is only now beginning to find out what politics in the 21st century is really like.

Here's an interesting video I stumbled upon on YouTube - exposing the Vietnam veterans, shall we say, flaws in remembrance...

Coldplay - 'Violet Hill': Stadium rockers start to experiment

So the new Coldplay single has been released as a free download – something that would have caused a palaver if Radiohead didn’t exist - and has promptly sent people in a spin. Not because of it’s release, but more because, for Coldplay, ‘Violet Hill’, is a pretty experimental track. The guitars are distorted and the chorus, well, doesn’t really exist. What do you think? I think I liked it more on first listen than I do 24 hours later…

Obama wins Iowa Caucus but what does it mean for us in the United Kingdom?

Is America on the verge of having its first Black president? Well you’d certainly think so if you picked up an evening newspaper or watched the nightly news.

Barack Obama, a 46-year-old man, with a father from Kenya and a mother from Kansas, topped last nights caucuses in the mainly white state of Iowa with nearly 38% of the vote. In his wake were fellow democrat candidates John Edwards (30%) and Hillary Clinton (29%), who weeks ago was a certainty to become the country’s first female president.

But what does the American presidential race, which, if truth be told has yet to really get underway, mean for us here in the UK? Well, as the considerable news coverage highlights – a great deal.

I’ve become captivated by American politics over recent months, ever since it became clear that Hillary Clinton would make her charge for the Oval Office. Clinton wasn’t the sole ignition of my interest however, and, before assumptions are drawn, she isn’t necessarily my choice for the top job either. Rather, it’s the American political system itself.

Maybe it’s because we’ve so easily become disillusioned with our own apathetic political process here in the UK, but the American race is just, well, more American.

It’s confident, expansive, refreshingly complicated, and above all, enjoyable to follow. As these early caucuses and primary rounds will show, the majority of Americans actually care who sits in the White House – and not just because George W. Bush has run their country into a political brick wall.

Of course, since George W. Bush has inhabited the White House, Britain’s interest, and its supposed ‘special relationship’ with the country, has escalated – as much out of need, rather than desire.

And the consequence of that is stark: we now must care who comes next; who gets their finger on the ‘red button’ and whether they intend to press it.

People might not always agree with the ‘American way’ but America might just be the way to go if politics in the UK are to be made interesting again.

2008 - A Happy New Year?