Tag Archives: Twitter

Things I liked and things I didn’t like…

Wow, almost an entire month without posting anything! I shall hang my head in shame. As I’ve said before, however, in this age of Facebook and Twitter it’s sometimes difficult to gather the energy to write an entire blog post when you can sum things up in 140 characters…

…Yes, I’m getting old, lazy and brainwashed by social networking. Fie on my rubbishness!

So, the good news since I last posted is that I’ve lost 9lbs in weight since February, my poorly back has improved massively thanks to the miles and miles and miles of walking I’ve been doing and, fingers crossed, an operation might not be necessary for a long while. Phew! I’m not yet fitting into all those too-small-for-me clothes hanging in my wardrobe, but at this rate I will be in a few months’ time, so I’m very happy about that. Plus I can do my belt up three notches instead of one, so I’m definitely smaller! Hurrah!

A couple of weeks back I met up with my best friends Biddy and Sam, plus many others, and spent a fabulous weekend at the Asylum 4 convention at the Birmingham Hilton. I had an absolutely wicked time and, unlike last year, there were no car crashes to be found! Unless you count costumes:

I think these guys were zombies or something; that’s Jim Beaver in the baseball cap (Bobby in Supernatural), looking suitably bemused/amused…

Although, speaking of car crashes, I did somehow manage to end up singing with guest Mark Pellegrino (Lucifer in Supernatural and Jacob in Lost) after he mentioned he was going to be playing Frank’n’furter in a production of The Rocky Horror Show this year:

I sound like a bag of cats being electrocuted – holy crap, was it nerve-wracking singing in front of 1,000 people! I’m glad I wasn’t on stage, although once they shone a spotlight on me and put me up on the big screen I nearly lost it…

Never let me near an open mike. NEVER.

Anyway, the convention was fantastically fun and, unlike last year’s con, well-organised. I had a blast. My favourite guest was definitely Kurt Fuller, who plays angel  Zachariah on the series, because he was twinkly and funny and warm and had appeared in just about every show imaginable, so he was full of great stories.  (My favourite being the one about how Bill Murray nicknamed his character ‘Hard-on’ during a scene in Ghostbusters II, before stopping the filming and saying, “I can’t call you that or people will be shouting it at you for the rest of your career.” Kurt is still grateful to this day!)

I’m already saving up for next year’s Asylum 6, although I’m saddened I can’t afford Asylum 5 this autumn, particularly because the awesome Misha Collins is attending. I wish they’d hold these damn things in London so I don’t have to pay hotel and travel!

Other news of import: I hated the finale of Lost. I know I’m not alone. It was beautifully acted and Michael Giacchino rocked it with his score (as always; three piano bars and he always has me snuffling). But The Big Twist was plain dumb after six years of build-up, essentially negating all of the ‘sideways universe’ flashes of this season, and it took me an entire day afterwards to figure out what the hell was going on. I wasn’t expecting total closure, of course, but I felt completely robbed by what we got. And that whole ‘there is a light and it never goes out’ crap? GET OUTTA TOWN. Too little, too late.

Although the final episode of Lost was bloody Shakespeare compared to Sex And The City 2, which I saw last night. Since when is it okay for a mainstream Hollywood film to be racist, homophobic and Islamaphobic all at once? I loved the series so much and didn’t mind the first film, but this was an exercise in hideousness (one touching scene between Charlotte and Miranda aside).

It didn’t help my mood when I ended up on the last train home from Waterloo – it was a very late screening – with a woman so drunk she asked the guy sitting beside her if she could eat his sandwich. Bizarrely, but very sweetly, he said yes, and she chomped away at it until she drunkenly folded over until her head was in her lap and threatened to fall off the seat for the entire journey. I ended up chatting to the sandwich-giver, who turned out to be from New York, and he informed me he’d just seen Colin Farrell in a nightclub getting a lapdance.

Man, I wish I’d spent my evening with him instead of at that stupid bloody movie…



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Why Twitter Is Amazing

I’m fascinated by the Twitter phenomenon, and never more so than on days like today. In case it’s escaped your attention, this morning a columnist at the Daily Mail – not one of my favourite newspapers, minority-hating, self-righteous bastards that they are – posted an article online about the death of Boyzone’s Stephen Gately.

Here’s a jpg of the article’s first headline:

Gately 2

(Since then, the headline has been changed to the marginally less-offensive “A Strange, Lonely And Troubling Death…”)

You can read the article here.

To sum up, what Jan Moir is saying is that Stephen Gately’s death, despite being put down to ‘natural causes’ by the coroner, was actually something far more sinister. She mentions how he was out partying beforehand (how terrible of him!); how he may have taken drugs (god forbid he do such a thing!); how he and his partner brought home a young man with them that night to ‘play canasta’ (and Jesus, of all the euphemisms, how nice of her to choose one so appropriately 1950s in tone – which is where her homophobia belongs, too). She lists the death of another gay celebrity last week, too, as though that had ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS STORY WHATSOEVER; calls into question the future of gay marriage in the UK (because now two gay men have died within a week of each other, clearly gay marriage is eeeeevil) and claims that “Healthy and fit 33-year-old men do not just climb into their pyjamas and go to sleep on the sofa, never to wake up again” (which obviously never happens, because she is an expert on such matters, even more so than the coroner who said Gately died of natural causes).

In other words, she’s saying one of either three things happened to this poor young man:

1) Stephen Gately drank himself to death that night (despite the coroner saying he died from natural causes).

2) Stephen Gately drugged himself to death that night (despite the coroner saying he died from natural causes).

3) Stephen Gately died that night because he and his partner brought home a young man to have sex with.

Or, to put it bluntly, Stephen Gately died because he was a young man with a lively social life.


Moir claims that she’s not homophobic, but her article is all the evidence we need to prove that she is. She’s since issued possibly the most laughable apology in the world, the Daily Mail has had to remove advertising from the article because its advertisers were unsettled, and Twitter…

Well, Twitter went MAD. Moir’s name has been at the top of its trending topics all day, along with the Daily Mail and Stephen Gately. Thanks to the efforts of celebrities Stephen Fry, Derren Brown, Peter Serafinowicz (who came up with the hashtag thedailymailisgay, which trended all afternoon as well) and Charlie Brooker, so much of a storm was whipped up on Twitter (and then on Facebook) that the Press Complaints Commission have already received over a thousand complaints. Their website crashed and it’s looking likely that this will be a record-breaking subject for them. And other news sites are reporting the furore, too; you know it’s hit big when the BBC deign to cover it.

I’m so angry with Moir’s vile homophobia that I’d like to punch her squarely on the nose, but I must admit that the worst thing about her article was the wilful disregard she showed to the feelings of Gately’s family, friends and, most of all, his partner. By implying – however carefully – that Gately’s death ‘wasn’t natural’, she’s all but saying that he was murdered, and by drawing attention to his two companions that night, she’s placing the blame squarely on them. Her contempt for Gately (who, from all accounts, sounded like a thoroughly pleasant young chap with no scandals in his past and no skeletons in the closet) is sickening.

But thanks to Twitter, the outrage of the general public on this subject was both swift and loud. At times like this, Twitter is truly extraordinary.

And I’ll leave the final word to Charlie Brooker at The Guardian


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Quick note: I succumbed to pressure and joined Twitter. Find me here: twitter.com/kakapojayne.  I really don’t like Twitter – it’s ugly, it’s clunky, it keeps saying “Too Many Tweets!” and breaking, but what the hell. If Stephen Fry, Neil Gaiman and the frankly bloody hilarious Misha Collins are all there, I might as well join the party.

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