People are talking: Kiss cam is not on for Michael
Published 22/02/2016 | 02:30
The 'Kiss Cam' - ahh it's SO cute! Is it? This latest American import is a mechanical device that singles out a couple in a crowd and demands that they smooch for the entertainment of the masses - even Orwell himself didn't foresee this fresh hell.
Cute it is not (sinister is more the word we were thinking of), so we wonder why the Bafta crowd thought it would be a good idea to have one at their awards ceremony.
And who, in the name of God, decided to point it at Alicia Vikander and Michael Fassbender? While other luvvies played along, no doubt terrified of setting off a 'Twitter Storm' about what bad sports they are, Vikander and Fassbender sat stony-faced and failed to snog.
How could the Bafta Kiss Cam operator have expected any other reaction? This pair are so on the DL that they have never confirmed that they are stepping out together.
On top of that Ms Vikander is Swedish - a people known for their coolness and reserve. Speaking of reserve, Michael - despite the exotic second name - is an Irishman, a breed not known for its enthusiastic public displays of affection.
Michael isn't just an Irishman - he's a Kerryman. He might be more than happy to get his lad out on screen - but that was work. Snuggle up to the (alleged) mot, in public? Will ye go on ourra that.
How Kanye was Swiftly put back in his place
Remember in the school playground, how some little boy would pick on some little girl in way that just didn’t make sense? Or that made no sense until you grew up and realised that he fancied her, in some immature, unevolved way that even he probably didn’t understand.
Kanye West is a 39-year-old married man with two kids. And he just can’t stop bothering Taylor Swift. He’s been at it for years and seems incapable of stopping himself.
Kanye’s latest attack is to be found in the lyrics of his latest much-hyped album. “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that bitch famous.” Nice. Kanye’s wife Kim Kardashian must be only thrilled with that.
What Kanye can’t seem to compute, however, is that he’s making a show of himself. Since storming the stage at the 2009 VMAs, when Taylor won Best Female Video and Kanye needed it be known that he thought Beyonce should have won, he’s been like a little boy in the schoolyard around her: knocking into her, trying to take her down a peg or two, pestering her at every turn. And failing spectacularly to burst her bubble.
It must drive the man mad that in that time, Taylor has only got bigger. The little girl has grown up, and she showed him that at last week’s Grammys. With her new sharp bob and her speech, which she called out to strong young women whose success is constantly “undercut” by begrudgers she put Kanye in his place. Uncharacteristically, he hasn’t lashed back yet. But, poor lamb, he probably won’t be able to help himself.
Would Ronan make you randy?
Did you know Ronan Keating is some sort of fertility aid? A lot of people tell him their kids were conceived to his songs, the singer informed Bang Showbiz this week (chuckle away to yourself at that one). There are a number of reactions to this. The first is, “Yeughhh, too much detail”. We’re more liberated here now, what with all the swinger clubs and filthy books for women. But still, keep it in the bedroom.
The second reaction is this: “How do they know?” How can they be sure that little Jack and Sophie were definitely hatched while Ronan belted out When You Say Nothing at All (on the stereo, there is no suggestion he was in the room). And then you realise what’s going on behind closed doors in Ireland. A slice of the population can’t get the ball rolling without something like Lovin’ Each Day playing in the background. Good luck to them.
It’s handy they can mix things up in the bedroom with the words “how about Barry Manilow for a change?”. That sure beats trawling around Ann Summers in search of the perfect slutty nurse outfit. It also opens up career opportunities for former boyband crooners. Let’s face it, we’ve had a boyband bubble in this country for 25 years. The result is a lot of excess singers who have no alternative but to head overseas and try their luck in something like the Voice of Italy. That’s no life for a young fella.
Surely we should be looking to keep these talented warblers at home where they belong. Imagine if they could stay here instead, and sing classic love songs in the bedrooms of Ireland. Nothing can beat the thrill of live music. As long as you don’t mind The Carter Twins sitting at the end of the bed.
Nothing at all: Ronan Keating
Is it cos they is black?
Meryl as the new Oprah. Meryl in a gritty Spike Lee movie. Meryl rapping with Nicki Minaj; The possibilities seemed endless after the multi-Oscar winning actress kind of came out as black this week — she said, “We’re all Africans really.” And it was just unfortunate that the pic they used to illustrate the story was Meryl in her Margaret Thatcher bouffant (above) looking about as “possibly tribal” as a weekend in Blackpool. She joined Bill Clinton — who said that “We’re all mixed race people” — in showing just how being from a minority should never really hold you back in life. Their logic was “Irish”, in several senses of the word. Like the kids of The Commitments they are just black enough, maybe blacker than some black people, the blacks of Europe.
As we proved with Obama, all it needs is a shared piece of DNA or a 20th cousin (whichever is closer) and, hey presto, race becomes irrelevant. So Meryl should obviously get another Oscar and now that we know that Bill is ethnically diverse, Hillary should never again have to answer awkward questions about why she stayed with him after Monica Lewinsky. “Once you go black ...”, she can tell reporters ,“... you know you can be president later.”
It’s TDs versus the Twits
Stephen Fry has often used Twitter to share his indignation with millions of loyal followers. But he’s not so keen when other tweeters with far fewer followers use it to vent back at him.
Last week he was in the firing line after lightheartedly describing costume designer Jenny Beaven as a “bag lady” when introducing her at the Baftas. He meant no harm and she wasn’t offended, but Twitter had a canary because, well, that’s what Twitter does.
As a result, Fry flounced off the social media site — again - saying it had become a “stalking ground for the sanctimoniously self-righteous”. What, he’s only noticing this now?
If the actor, writer, TV presenter, wit, bon viveur, philanthropist and philosopher (to list just some of the accolades with which the over-sensitive luvvie has been bestowed and, perhaps, even considers he deserves) thinks Twitter is bad, he should try being a politician.
Rarely a day goes by without some anonymous keyboard warrior taking to the internet to wish death on our elected representatives in a variety of imaginative and painful ways. You certainly wouldn’t want to be of a sensitive disposition when running in this election, which is fast turning into the nastiest, dirtiest and most personal contest since, er, the last time we voted.
That’s why we don’t call it “negative campaigning” in Ireland. We just call it campaigning.
It’s time to let it be, Macca
Paul McCartney used to fret about whether anyone would need him and feed him when he was 64. His sixth decade was okay, but things are getting tricky for him now that he’s 73.
He was refused entry to a nightclub this week! This has happened to all of us mere mortals but never to Macca. Being told you’re not on the list is a cruel jibe we’ve all been told, but ex-Beatles aren’t supposed to suffer that indignity.
Party animal Paul was trying to gain entry to rapper Tyga’s aftershow Grammy party when the doorman, well, showed him the door.
There’s a huge question here. Why would a member of rock royalty want to get into a party hosted by a guy best-known as Kylie Jenner’s fella?
Macca didn’t take it too well. “How VIP do we gotta get?!” he exclaimed. Unfortunately TMZ had a camera there too to capture the moment.
It turned out he should have been at Mark Ronson’s party three miles away and a fire officer said Tyga’s bash was full.
Tyga turned up on Jimmy Kimmel to apologise. Kimmel sensibly pointed out: “You’d think fire codes wouldn’t apply to Beatles. There are only two of them left.”
I sense a Copper Face Jacks VIP card winging its way to McCartney Towers as we speak!
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