Madonna Matador - Granny Awards...

Behind it says 'Granny Awards'.

Express Yourself...

25 years ago I had a couple of hook-ups with a guy. We met in Heaven and went back to my place first and then the following week we met at his place in Meard Street in Soho. He made me dinner. We had a fun time together. At his place he kept playing and dancing around to Express Yourself from Madonna's Like A Prayer album while he cooked me pasta. "I love this record", he said putting it on again. "You're not kidding!" He was almost obsessed with it. He made me laugh. He was a Portuguese banker and had more than one bottle of champagne in his fridge. Fancy, I thought! I was impressed. He was well-read too. A nice guy. Had a nice smile. His name was Antonio.

We talked about meeting for a third time. He had people staying that weekend though. How about in Comptons? His birthday was coming up and that Saturday night his mate was throwing him a party on a boat on the river. He said that I couldn't come as there were already too many people coming but we should meet the following day on the Sunday. Late though because it was going to be a late one on the boat. OK, Comptons it was. See you then. Look forward to it.

I went to Heaven that Saturday night with my mate Kit feeling a bit miffed I couldn't go to what looked to be a wild party on the river. I enjoyed myself though dancing the night away.

At about 2:30am or so the music cut out on the main dance floor and there was a bit of kerfuffle by the stairs near the door. A couple of people were hugging each other and crying. And people looked horrified. Rumours started to spread. I asked around but no one seemed to know what was going on. Then someone told me they had come from Cannon Street bridge along the river and there had been an accident. Apparently a boat had collided with another and sank. And some people had died. There were lots of gay people on board too. And they were still pulling bodies out of the water.

Oh God. Dreadful I thought. Dreadful. I told Kit it was time to go. And we queued for our coats. It took ages to leave.

But to my shame it was only after I had got on the N19 night bus on the way home it suddenly dawned on me, "Fuck! Antonio! Antonio was on the river tonight!" I got off the bus at New Oxford Street and dashed back to Meard Street. The lights were on on the second floor and I rang the buzzer but no one answered the door. I rang again. I pressed the buzzer for a full minute. No one was there. Oh shit. I started to cry.

In the following days I couldn't read any of the coverage of the Marchioness disaster or watch the news. It was just too upsetting.

RIP Antonio de Vasconcellos - you great shag with your Express Yourself obsession.

Jean-Paul Gautier Exhibition...

Last Sunday Stuart and I went to see the Jean-Paul Gautier at the Barbican Art Gallery. It was amazeballs. The mannequins had video projections of faces on them that were sexy, creepy and funny all at the same time. Some winked, some talked, some sang. Oh and the clothes weren't bad either. And we got to see Madonna's conical bra outfit.

Kylie at O2...

Last Friday Darren and I went to see Kylie Minogue's Aphrodite – Les Folies tour at the O2 Arena. It was promoting her recent Aphrodite album. We had standing tickets but had arrived fairly early (and did a bit of queue jumping - thanks Shaun) so got a got position for our £65. We were about two or three people away from the thrusting walkway. The people on the other side of the walkway in the middle section had paid £250. This area was called the splash zone. With good reason it turned out.

Kylie performed most of the Aphrodite album along with much of her back catalogue. OK, she's not the best singer in the world and, yes, she's no the best dancer but boy does she put on a great show. We loved it. Greek and Roman themes were everywhere - big production numbers with heavy nods to Busby Berkeley and, inevitably, Madonna. There were athletic dancers, fabulous costumes, feathers, smoke, state of the art back projection - all turned up to eleven. She even had a flying angel that carried her into the audience.

Of especial note were the many water fountains that played for the encore - All The Lovers. They wowed us and  drenched the splash zone people in equal measure.

Although she's dressd up to the nines, At sixes and sevens with you...

Sunday was our walking day. We wlaked for about five our taking in all the sights and pounded the pavement from south to north and back again.

We started off in Plaza de Mayo - sight of the famous Catedral Metropolitana, Museo Historico Nacional del Cabildo de la Revolucion de Mayo and of course the magnificent Casa Rosada (Pink House. This central balcony of this latter building was famously used by Eva Peron to wave at the people - and of course also by Madonna in Alan Parker's Evita film.

We when worked our way north taking in the Floralis Generica - a giant metal flower that opens during daylight - and the stopped off for refreshments at Museo Nacional de Belles Artes.

We then set off again heading for the Buenos Aires Design complex, the beautiful Basilica Nuestra Senora del Pilar and then the Cementerio de la Recoleta where we found row upon row of fantastic granite, marble and bronze mausoleums. Naturally we paid a visit to Eva Peron's finally resting place too. (over to the right down a narrow passage).

We then stopped off for some late lunch at the Buller Brewing Company - a micro-brewery. Great food. Slow service.

Finally we headed along Avenida Alvear past wonderfully decadent buildings ending up at the French embassy.

Back at the hotel a 'pool party' had started. I say 'pool party' - what I really mean is a thumping, turned-up-to-eleven club night. We stood little chance of resting with all that going on so we showered and headed back out for some beers at rather shabby eatery called 'My House'. As had been promised by the receptionist the music got quieter at 10pm so we managed to get some sleep by midnight.

The reason for our early night? We were planning a trip to another country the next day. Uruguay.

Home Taping Is Killing Music...

Did you use to tape the top 40 off the radio? Well put those C90 tapes down kids and listen to George Michael, Madonna, Adam Ant sing to tell you why 'Home Taping Is Killing Music'. Love it.