Strictly Baby Disco - Child Abuse by Any Other Name

Channel 4 broadcast a programme at 10.00 p.m. on Thursday 23 February, which followed the lives of three little girls who were aiming to win the title of Disco Kid, dancing freestyle in outrageously sexualized costumes and heavy make-up. Well, OK, most little girls love to dress up, but these poor little souls were forced to dance, no matter what, by their wildly ambitious mothers. In fact, what they put the children through amounted to child abuse.

Orlagh from Belfast had to dance while taking anti-biotics for a kidney infection, being sick with fear and puffing on an inhaler. In between 45 second bouts of frenetic, body-breaking movement, her mother berated her for not being "crisp" enough.

Clemmie had a bad back, but her mother told the physio about the finals, so of course she had to go to Blackpool and dance, never mind damaging her spine further.

Poor Billie was dragged away from her friends and family in Bradford, to live in Scotland to be near the best disco dance teacher there was. She was so sad and actually, a bit traumatized by the move, but hey, mum's ambitions had to be fulfilled.

It was fascinating viewing, eliciting a mixed response of horror and sorrow, and most of all, anger at what those children were made to endure by the mothers who were supposed to love and care for them. If you can watch it, then do so and see how it affects you personally. If anybody reads this, then please find a way to make your feelings known, because I bet any right-thinking person would be as horrified as I am.

Christmas Television - My Turn to Comment

Well, Christmas is over for another year and as ever, televisual delights during the festive period were hit and miss. Having read what my favourite critics, Kevin O'Sullivan (Sunday Mirror) and Ian Hyland (Mail on Sunday) had to say, being paid to do so, of course, I felt obliged to add my two-pennorth. And believe me, it was not all dross.

The BBC did actually give us some excellent pieces. On 18 December, Lost Christmas, starring the wonderful Eddie Izzard was a gem of a performance by all concerned and a magical story. Mind you, I would watch Eddie Izzard eating a piece of toast and laugh; the man is a marathon hero and a very funny individual. Then, on 23 December, BBC2 screened what is described as an "improvised Britcom" with Martin Freeman at the helm. Nativity was another great piece of television and it even made me shed a tear. Now that's what I call moving.

On December 24, BBC1 showed the last episode of Merlin with yet another great actor, Colin Morgan in the title role. I can hardly wait for it to be back on our screens. For Christmas Day itself, I have to thank Michael McIntyre and Auntie Beeb for making me laugh so much in his Christmas Comedy Roadshow. His imitation of Shane McGowan, that Pogue fella, singing Fairytale of New York was a masterpiece of fun and audience participation, and Pixie Lott did a good job in taking Kirsty McColl's part. There was even a visit from Kylie, so what more could you ask for?

Sadly, there were some not so good moments, namely Channel 4's show Bear's Wild Weekend with Miranda. Still, for all its nonevent quality, I still think Miranda Hart is a woman of great talent. The worst televisual experience had to be those weird clowns, Jedward on Alan Carr, Chatty Man Christmas Special, where he was reduced to calling them names and putting them on the naughty step. If only somebody would send them back to Mars, or at least the Bog of Allen, then we would all feel much happier. They reduced David Walliams to the use of strong language and really upset Ruth Jones. What a pair of planks!

There you have it folks, my pick of the Christmas television for 2011. Oh, and thank God for Morecambe and Wise.

Leaving Virgin Media

After over four years, a better offer of broadband provision took my fancy. So I did what I should do and called VirginMedia on the phone to tell them what I was doing. I also cancelled my direct debit and asked for a final bill to be sent to me.

Yes folks, beware if you change from Virgin Media to another provider, because they will charge you for the privilege, no matter how long it is since your original contract expired. I wonder if the "philanthropic" Richard Branson is aware of the practices employed to screw more money out of unsuspecting subscribers? Ahem! Well, eight weeks passed and in my naivety, I thought they had got it wrong at the call centre and no charges would be levied. Not so.

On the 22nd of November, I received a letter from, yes, my old mates at Virgin, pointing out that I may have overlooked the need to pay this bill for discontinuing services. Immediately, debit card clutched in my reluctant little hand, I phoned and payed them, as requested, £24.00 which was "inclusive of the £23.50 disconnection charge." The 50p must have been to cover postage, I have no idea, I just paid.

Now please do not be losing the will to live as I continue with what I consider to be a warning to those daring and brave enough to change from Virgin Media. Here the saga continues: today, 25th November, I received a letter from a debt recovery agent, acting on behalf of yes, you've guessed it, good old Virgin Media.

To say I was incandescent with rage and spitting feathers is no exaggeration. After an abortive attempt (due to seeing red, rather than my telephone keypad), I spoke to a very nice woman who said that their records show today that I had paid. Despite her reassurances, I am still concerned that I may have joined a bad debtors list and become unable to get credit anywhere. She said not, but I am tempted to try to buy something from a Virgin store or site, or indeed a Rolls Royce from a reputable dealer, and see what THEY think of my credit rating.

So, the moral of the story is, Virgin will charge if you decide to cease being a subscriber with them. They will not send your final bill when promised and when they do and you pay up, you might also be chased by a debt collector. Now I wonder, does Mr. Branson like them apples?

Paul O'Grady

It is months since any thought collection and dispersal have taken place but I just have to share something. By good fortune, I found Paul O'Grady's autobiography "At My Mother's Knee....and other loose joints" in a local cancer charity shop. This book is a must if you need to laugh out loud or even vent some emotion with tears. It is absolutely brilliant.

Having loved Paul since he burst onto our screens as Lily Savage, the book just confirms what a special, funny and genuinely nice man he is. Actually, his childhood mirrors my own so closely, even down to the plastic Virgin Mary's with screw top crowns, that I wondered if he was in the same house as me when I was growing up. If you can, watch him on Channel 4, and even more important, read his book and weep (and laugh out loud). By the way, Paul, thank you for introducting me to that wonderful poem by Ferdinand Freiligrath, " Love as Long as You Can."

Doesn't Time Fly When You're Havin' Fun? Doh!

I am ashamed to say that I have abandoned this blogging lark due to the absence of motivation or creative ideas for some time. Judging by the history here, that would be 7 months at least. Shame on me! It seemed as if I entered some sort of fugue state, or even lost my marbles for a time. But thanks to the ministrations of the good old NHS, I am now whole and hearty again, in body if not yet fully compos in the brain department. Do forgive, please?

Having had two operations, a bit of a scare with blood loss, a lot of wonderful care and attention, I really had to get on here and sing the praises of our local NHS Trust, namely Leeds and in particular, the Clarendon Wing at Leeds General Infirmary. What a set of stars the Plastic Surgery team is - all of them golden and shining bright in every aspect. Cannot thank or praise them all enough.

Meanwhile, I must away and once again admire their handiwork wrought upon my person. Believe me, when I say we are so lucky to have the NHS, warts and all, I speak from heartfelt experience. Let us all fight to keep it. And to LGI Clarendon Wing, thanks folks.

Football, dear Football! A Woman's Perspective.

It is with some shock that I realize my last post on this blog was January 2010, but so much has happened that my head has not been working properly - still isn't if the truth be told. What I am here to say is in support of those women whose men are football crazy, men who now have a free reign to their madness, thanks to the World Cup. I thank the stars above and all other heavenly bodies, that the males of this household give not a jot nor a tittle for the "Beautiful Game."

We are happy to search the channels for anything that does not contain a lot of men running around after a ball, while tribal chanting eggs them on from every direction. As my good friend said, after only two days of the tournament had passed, "Oh God, I wish our television was broken."

Ah, but every cloud has a silver lining and so we women have all taken up walking, running and jogging, and the result should be a lot of very fit women and some disgruntled menfolk. Or if not disgruntled, slightly fatter and less-fit menfolk, thanks to sitting in chairs, shouting, swearing and cheering, while watching the games on TV. Roll on the end of the whole carry on.

Cheese or Chocolate?

How sad to learn that Cadbury's, the makers of the best chocolate in the world, are to sell out to Kraft, an American company more noted for its rubbery cheese slices than its quality confectionary. I suppose it has to be the way of the world, debts and running costs are too much to let Cadbury keep its independance. Let us hope that if on 2 February, when the takeover might happen, that the workers at Cadbury's keep their jobs.

It would seem that yet another fine English tradition bites the dust. Even more worrying, is the thought that Kraft will mess around with the products and we the consumers will not know whether it's cheese or chocolate we are eating.

Update on "Support Peter Robinson Northern Ireland First Minister" Group on Facebook

It is amazing to note that since creating this group a couple of days ago, 359 people have joined to pledge their support. Sad to note that Mr. Robinson has had to stand down in order to deal with the whole sad business and to help his family through it all. He intends to take about six weeks away from politics to sort things out on a personal level. He intends to clear his name. He has support from the Democratic Unionist Party.

From the majority of comments on the Facebook site, he has the support of ordinary people of all creeds and political beliefs, simply because he is a man of his word, he has proved his integrity by his past actions, and that is what matters. As ever, though, there are those who defeat the object by misunderstanding the meaning of the word "support." Several people have decided to pontificate on the morality of it all, though how the hell they would know what goes on inside somebody else's head or house is one of life's sweet mysteries. Red herrings have been swimming around, too but not worth the time and effort to explain here.

Let us hope the support continues and the group increases with positive messages and good wishes for Peter Robinson and his family.

Support Peter Robinson, Northern Ireland First Minister

I have no interest in politics, but I do come from Belfast and I do keep an eye on what is happening in Northern Ireland. Peter Robinson, First Minister, is under scrutiny over something his wife, also an MP, did. It was foolish, wrongheaded and certainly a very big mistake on her part. But today, it is her husband who is threatened with loss of career and position. Of course there are a lot of questions to answer and I am sure he will answer them.

BBC news tells us "He has come out fighting" and good for him, I say. Now you may be wondering why a Catholic, brought up in a largely Republican area, would be supporting a politician from across the religious and political divide. Well, here is why.

Many years ago, when the Troubles were still a part of everyday life, my mother needed help with a housing matter, in fact, she needed a house! As urban redevelopment in the 1980s brought better housing and conditions, a little Catholic widow, living alone was far down the pecking order, despite suffering many illnesses. She decided to see her MP, who, at the time, was Peter Robinson.

She had many reservations, given where she lived and her religious beliefs. She visited Peter Robinson in his constituency office and voiced her reservations, along with her needs. His response tells me he is a man of his word and his integrity cannot be questioned. He replied that he didn't care what religion she was, or what politics she favoured, but because he was her MP, he would do all in his power to help, because that was his job. And you know what? He did just that, and my mother was allocated a house within weeks, after waiting over two years.

All I can do is relate this to the character of the man today, and offer support for him. I hope others do the same and that hypocritical hounding does not get in the way of a fair hearing. He is a man of his word. Support him. I have started a group on Facebook, where I am Annie Moore. Should you wish to join the group, please go there and do so.

Farewell Wossie

Jonathan Ross is leaving the BBC, OK I know this this old news, but felt impelled to comment. All I am wondering is, does this mean, that savings made by not paying his huge and undeserved salary will be passed on to the license payers? I think not, but one can always hope. He has got to be the most over-paid, under-talented whateverheis that the media has ever spawned.

When he first became popular on TV, he was great fun, witty and almost humble in his ability to laugh at himself. He was talented without being arrogant. But over time, as his fame grew, so too did his ego, or so it appeared. The silly amounts of money he was paid - note I did not say earned - bear no resemblance to his actual abilities. Rather like those Turner Prize "artistic representations" where the Emperor's New Clothes come to mind, Jonathan Ross made it because so many fools believed the hype. As for his "difficult year" and the diplomatic, sycophantic speeches of BBC executives, I wonder how we could sack them all?

Oh well, no doubt the Beeb will find someone similar to endow with the vast sums of money that the citizens of Britain are forced to pay in license fees, or face a fine or jail, should they dare to refuse. Meanwhile, I am sure Mr. Ross will find other ways to get richer, and good luck to him. We should all be thankful that his wages will no longer be coming out of our pockets. We hope.

Out of the Ether

Somehow, since last Thursday when I laid bare my wrinkles on Facebook, I have had tons of contact from old friends in America, those writers I used to commune with on TIBU. This is really exciting and so heartening to know that they still remember me, as I do them. Another strange by-product of entering the realms of electronic friendship, is that it has motivated me to write more.

Some people might be shaking their heads in dismay and reaching for the painkillers to address discomfort in various parts of their anatomy. But be warned. I can feel an attack of the verbals starting. The written words will pour, though for how long this is going to continue is anybody's guess.

Trouble is, I am a bit stalled for what exactly to write about,given that physical interventions seem to have stunted the mental processes of creativity. But as the old saying goes, "Where there's life, there's hope."

A serious comment now. I have just listened to a programme on BBC Radio 4 called 'The Choice.' An American doctor who practices late abortion, under threat of death, was being interviewed. A most interesting man, certain he was doing the right thing by the women who came to him. When asked if he had any problem with the morality of aborting at 34 weeks, he replied that the moral issue belonged to the woman in question. He also became very hot under the collar when the interviewer suggested that 34 weeks was almost full-term, a viable proposition for life. He just repeated, very angrily that "34 weeks is NOT full term. That is 40 Weeks."

Now I have no desire to cast judgement on those who make life changing decisions; I believe in their right to do so. But after hearing this man talking, and how he expressed his views, as he conducted his work with death threats hanging over himself and his family, I am in a quandary. I now have a moral dilemma to deal with. At the end of the interview, I beat up a cake and pretended it was Dr. Whoever, all the while muttering, "I don't like you." He has no children of his own. That's all folks.

Blogging gone Astray

I looked and I saw that my blogging is lacking in application, discipline and continuity, in fact it is bloody bad blogging, as I am not giving it my best attention. This thought came to mind (yes, I can occasionally collect thoughts), while reading of another blogger's experiences on Helium. I am always writing on there,with the exotic pen name of Dolores Moore. The upshot of reading that article was a surge of guilt for having neglected this particular practice, being a blogger.

Given that nobody really reads what I am writing, nor do they think it worthwhile to comment, which is only natural, as most people are too busy writing their own blogs and pieces, I feel rather isolated. I need the strokes, the feedback, the responses. That is what makes me a terribly bad blogger, I have gone astray and should have a firm purpose of amendment and write more on here.

Ah, but here's the rub. I have joined Facebook and am already becoming addicted. So until I find something else to moan about or praise, it is hasta la vista from Annie. For the moment.

Give Frankie Boyle Your Attention

Looking at this blog of mine, it is obvious from the time elapsed since last posting, that I have hardly a thought in my head, or at any rate, very few with enough coherence to write down. Sorry about that. However, I have not spent the intervening time unprofitably, for though most televisual offerings are a bag of the stuff that comes out of bull's bottoms, I have found a little diamond among the dross.

Frankie Boyle just makes me laugh out loud at his irreverently sharp non-pc wit, thank God for him and it. He is my hero on "Mock the Week" and can out-wit, out-shock and just out-do everybody on there. Oh, for a glinting glance from those bespectacled eyes, followed by a few words in that inimitable Scottish accent. Bet Frankie would have a fit if he thought he appealed so strongly to 60 year old grannies like myself.

Go Frankie, go! You light up the dark winter nights like a beacon of common sense and downright wickedness and I love you for it, wee lad.

Fry's English Delight BBC Radio 4 Does it Again

I have come to accept that as a blogger, I would make a good trapeze artist. I simply do not have the discipline to get the thoughts collected and transferred to my world wide audience, all 20 of them. Apologies all round folks. But I just have to share this brilliant quote from the inimitable, eccentric and delightful Stephen Fry, bless him. In his programme this morning on the English language in all its glory, he said "Computers oil the wheels of the handcart in which we are all going to hell." Isn't that just magnificent? I wish I had said it myself, but there you are, he is a genius and I am a lazy bones.

BBC Radio 4: Gold Among the Dross of Media Entertainment

If you can access BBC Radio 4 in your corner of the world, do so, I urge you. If you enjoy quality on the radio, here is the place to find it. This morning, Friday 19 June, at 9.00 am, I listened to a wonderful old favourite programme, broadcasting in the same format since 1942, "Desert Island Discs. Kirsty Young, the presenter, was as always, conducting a gentle exposition of the life, times and character of the great Labour Chancellor of the Exchequer of the 20th century, Denis, Lord Healey. Oh, if only we had men like him in government right now. But let me not digress.

I just wanted to share my enthusiasm for the man, the programme, along with some quotes he made that had me laughing out loud. They also provided a glimpse of the wit and wisdom of the man. He may be 92 years old, but as we say here in the North, he's not lost his marbles one bit! When asked what he thought of Margaret Thatcher, (one time Conservative Prime Minister),then and now, he replied that she was an awful prime minister, "because she wouldn't listen to anybody who didn't share her views" and "Nobody ever listens to her now, poor thing, I feel sorry for her. I gave her a hug the last time we met..."

Lord Healey's choice of music included Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, so he was a man after my own heart. The format of this programme allows the "castaway" (interviewee) to take three special items to the island, along with the Bible and the Complete Works of Shakespeare. I knew I had just discovered a kindred spirit when Lord Healey opted for the Faber Book of English Verse, a huge big box of chocolates and the Cavatina from Beethoven;s String Quartet No. 13 in B Flat Major.

This programme has stood the test of time, BBC Radio 4 is uncompromising in delivering a quality service, and after listening to Lord Healey, my day is brighter. Thank you sir.

All details of this and BBC Radio 4's other splendid offerings can be found on the BBC Website. Give your intellect a treat and listen.

Belfast Racists

There have been very few times in my life when I have been ashamed to call myself Irish - but this is one of them. I am deeply ashamed that people in my home city of Belfast could attack a group of Romanian families with such racial hatred and ferocity, that they were forced to flee their homes. Here we go again. Ah, but why does it not surprse me? As a Catholic child, I had to do a bit of fleeing in the past, before the Troubles with a capital "T" became an ongoing saga of murder and hatred.

The shame deepened when I heard one man, speaking on Radio 4 yesterday, with an accent much like my own. He declared these Romanians to be "parasites who should go back to their own country." I felt a little bit of hope when another man from the same working class area that housed the evicted families, state that this was the work of only a few racists. For God's sake, does nobody learn anything from 30 years of terror, mayhem, prejudice and bigotry?

Shamefully, I must accept that it would appear they have not. Is there some dreadful flaw in the Northern Irish psyche that impels people to attack those who are different? If what has just taken place is anything to go by, then the answer must be "yes." But I thought I knew that my people were good, kind, benevolent and welcoming, for the most part; therein lies a glimmer of hope.

Many of those Romanian families now just want to go home, and who could blame them? I have to conclude that the place I called "home" is so contaminated with inhumanity and intolerance that it is best avoided. Which is a great pity. To the good people of Belfast, and there are many, I extend my sorrow that they have been tainted by the few. Let us hope they can quash the evil in their midst. Let my doubts ast to this happening be unfounded.

A Great Result!

The absolutely fabulous Joanna Lumley must be over the moon, as the Gurkhas have won the right to settle in Britain,proving that at last, a bit of justice has emerged. I do not want to sound all gung ho and rah, rah, but these people have supported and fought for this country for years, and if any group deserved to be able to live here, then they do. Joanna fought too, without fear, without taking any nonsense or double talk from the politicians, and with the people of the nation behind her. What a victory and well done. Welcome to these wonderful people and their families, I hope you will be treated with the respect and honour you so rightly deserve, having earned these and more. That's it folks.

Ingorance of the Law is No Defence!

I think I heard somebody say that, or maybe I read it, or could it be wishful thinking on my part, but it sure is making a comeback as our glorious representatives in government rush to empty their pockets and show their many and varied receipts for things they "didn't know I couldn't claim for that." and so on and so forth and yawn and oh yeah! There is a song lurking at the back of my mind, which for some reason I associate tentatively with Roy Orbison. It is "Running Scared" and I think it would be a tip top election campaign anthem for every major UK political party.

If anybody out there reads this and can think of one better, please leave a comment and a suggestion, which I will polish up and send to Westminster. Oh what fun I will have. Meanwhile, I have better things to do, but am filled with regret that I didn't buy a simple account book and enter all the totals of moneys repaid therein, then, under Freedom of Information Act, demand the totals of moneys improperly spent. No, too, too long winded and boring for a mathematical dunce such as I. But I certainly hope somebody is in charge of doing hard sums and keeping account. It would be lovely to hear the final figures, should I live that long.

And Now We Make Reparation!

They are all putting their hands in their pockets, falling over themselves in their eagerness to repay what they should not have taken in the first place. Our government and opposition MPs, I mean. Golly, they will surely be welcomed at Heaven's pearly gates for such firm purpose of amendment and expressions of regret.

I await the next election to see whether this "too little, too late" empty gesture has had the desired effect. Perhaps we the voters will abstain from supporting those who failed us and show them just what we really think. It's a bugger, when we have reached a stage in our history where trust is just a word on paper, or even worse, part of the title of some financial organisation. Oh well, the public coffers may yet be swelled and those who deserve to benefit, receive help. My breath will not be held on that one.

Can we Start a Democratic Revolution, Blogger of the UK?

As I walk to the village post office, about one and a half miles away, I pass at least three homes with repossession notices posted. I feel saddened by the plight of the people who can no longer afford to keep a roof over their head, or to support their family. In the city, the only shops I see full of people buying are those which offer "EVERYTHING FOR £1!" There is ample evidence here in the UK that its citizens are suffering under the current economic crises. More sinister and frightening is the set of thieves, liars and morally bereft individuals who form the government with which we have been burdened.

My blood boils and I am rendered speechless with rage as I listen to the news on BBC Radio 4. I hear more and more examples of how the money belonging rightly to those citizens is being grabbed and squandered by the very people we hoped would run our country in a honest, fair and democratic way. Some bloody hopes! The Mother of All Parliaments" is now a nest of corruption and greed, sinking under the lies, cheating and false promises of our so-called leaders and representatives. The hypocrisy of all those who have misused funds and abused privileges for their own gain absolutely beggars belief.

They have bleated constantly that they have done nothing wrong, they have stayed within the rules, so it is fine to own three houses, paid for by the voters, or to buy expensive baubles for Christmas, or to have expensive repairs carried out, all at the expense of a population struggling to make ends meet. My friend suggested to me that the army should be sent in to rout them out, throw them in the Tower of London and set up a government with integrity and moral backbone. He thought Joanna Lumley, who has so successfully championed the cause of our brave Gurkhas could head up such a team.

My plea is that all bloggers get online and offer their opinions on the disgusting misuse of public money and the even worse lack of morality and integrity. They might also like to suggest what could be done to address the issue of actually having a decent government. I know it might sound like daydreaming, but not having been involved in any revolutionary activities, I am not sure how to go about it.

The process of getting rid of those currently in power, where the Tower is utilized, certainly holds some appeal, but the Crown Jewels had better be taken away to a safe place first, if that pack of thieves and vagabonds are to be incarcerated there. Next, I would like to see a coalition government formed, made up of individuals with intelligence, integrity and bravery in equal measure. My ideal leaders would include the following, simply because I believe they possess these qualities: Ian Hislop, Jeremy Paxman, John Humphries, Jo Brand, Joanna Lumley and Anne Robinson. They could, if they deemed it necessary, enlist the aid of those politicians they believe to be honest and trustworthy, there are a few I believe.

So that is quite enough for one blog, I think. Should I not return to check on the progress of this revolutionary idea, then you better start baking cakes with files in, big metal files I mean, as I am more than likely to have been arrested and put in prison for daring to state what many people think. So come on bloggers, show your feelings on this most vital of issues and help us get some greatness back.