The best way to procrastinate is to leave town!

So long since my last post...I've been procrastinating on my procrastinator. That, and I went on holiday! Four full days of not tap tap tapping at my laptop or reading anything but a novel. Endless hours of glorious hiking and only once did I start to rewrite my introduction in my head.

That may be a record for me. Oh, and the only time I was asked about my research, I had a serious bout of geographic dyslexia. See, some places morph together for me if I've never been there. Malaga / Mallorca, or in this case, Oxford / Cambridge. What's the difference, right? One poncy prestigious school is same as any other, and they use that bloody Oxbridge term so even they could care less of the distinctions. Nonetheless, it's still embarassing when some nice couple of German origin giving you a lift mention they go to Oxford and minutes later I have launched into a story about Cambridge, telling them of the great community radio station there. To be sure, 10-100 mighty watts of power won't make it that distance! The worst part is, they didn't correct me. Either they were too polite, too confused, or too dumbfounded. My friend who actually went to Cambridge rather enjoyed my downward spiral into silly yank-ville and didn't tell me til after.

The moral of the story is still thus: N=need an excuse to put off work? Go to Dartmoor! Look for the wild poonies, enjoy cream tea, and leave the blogging behind!

The Upside of Global Warming

The upside to global warming is hot summery days in March! You see, I've become someone who loves talking about the weather. And winging about the weather. And incapable of staying indoors on a balmy spring day that freakishly and unnaturally occurs in winter.

Part of the problem is that growing up in Los Angeles, the weather is the last thing you ever actually talk about. Unless it rains. Okay, so once a year you talk about the weather and the local news reporters dress up like on expedition to find the Northwest Passage, but have to feign enthusiasm for the fact that fate and a temperate climate has instead found them standing on the overpass of the 405 / 10 juncture in a drizzle talking about how bad the traffic is. Because it's usually so clear at 5pm on a Friday. Oh, and the graphics department goes nuts with the 'STORM WATCH 05!' banners. Because it's raining.

But here in London, heat makes the news and I love talking about how nice it is even though I know it won't last! I even asked my brother how to convert Celcius to Farenheit just for the occassion [F = (9/5 x C) +32].

But there's something dark lurking behind this unseasonable warm spell. People are out and smiling and leaving their coats behind, but there's a distrust in the air. 'Why on earth would the weather gods be so kind to us?' The so-called British resolve seems to thrive better in misery then in comfort it seems. Whereas the Angelino takes their sunshine so for granted it's frowned upon in some circles to complain when it's too hot, unless it's August and then it's okay. Our relationship to our micro-climates is key to understanding the sensibility of a place and how we talk about the weather could be the meta-narrative of how we conceptualise our selves in it. And if its possible to find a light cotton dress in February.

Have you talked about the weather today?

Benefit from others conspicuous consumption!

A good friend of mine here (who shall remain nameless) is a shopaholic. But a low-rent variety consumer. Like me, she fancies the charity shop finds and Ebay items under a fiver. Unlike me, she has a keen eye for discount Boots products and can go deep into an Argos catalogue and come up with impressive discoveries. Today, I give you Super Badge It!

Yes, my friend has brought a whole new layer of ingenuity to the art of phd procrastination. Instead of writing, she's making buttons! And by default, I benefit from a new form of time wasting cos I now must come up with a suitable image so she can ME a badge! Find a photo? Design a graphic? Knick something from a food carton? The possibilities are endless!

But today I had other areas to cover during my 'down time'. You see, my friend also has an impressive backstock of assorted beauty products and accessories (bought on the cheap of course). Fancy a new lipstick but can't afford one? No worries, she'll sort you out. It may be a pretty mediocre shade of rosebud lustre, but nevermind, it's new to you!

I was set on lipsticks today, so instead, I straightened my hair with a hand-held iron of hers. Yep. I wasted time today using a borrowed beauty implement. Not only that, but my friend lent me two models - and has plenty more should I not find joy with these. One is even powered by butane. It's like Radio Shack soldering for hair rather then circuit boards. However, I think I might be a better solderer then hair straightener, and that's not saying much. I was going for the Joan Jett coif the woman who cut my hair sent me out the door with - a little retro rockunroll in a chav kinda way. Left to my hands holding the device, I think I look more like a mildly subdued Tina Turner ala Private Dancer. I may have singed my hair too. And I know this all reeks of hypocracy as it goes against my anti-consumer values and tendencies. But sometimes crazy things happen that just can't be justified.

Next thing you know I'll be crimping. Like Barbra Streisand. And making a badge out of bad hair days.

All told, it was a good day for product placement.

I like your ass. Call me.

I just had the most fun wasting time I could possibly imagine! Yes, my flatmates and I just watched Showgirls, aka, The Least Erotic Movie of All Time.

To pick out one's favourite moment from such a visual and audible feast is difficult. The infamous shagging scene between Elizabeth Berkley's character and Kyle McLachlan's in the pool resplendent with water sprouting dolphins and neon palm trees in the background is a sight to be seen. The Crystal is poured and Liz rides Kyle like a swordfish frantically flopping about after having been swung onboard the deck of the HMS Cheesefactor. Then there's the constant state of shout, pout and emote. The endless display of tits that I imagine would eventually bore even the greatest soft porn fan. Said floppy fish taking sloppy overdramatised mouthfuls of her burger like the savage introduced to this curious modernity for the first time. Non-ironically delivered lines like the one offered by her former strip club employer who visits her as a chorus girl. Upon congratulating her on a job well done remarks: 'It must be weird not to have anyone cum on you afterwards, huh?'

This from the genius who penned such classics as Fatal Attraction and Basic Instinct. Hard to believe, I know.

But by far, thee best line of the film has to be when she's gyrating on The Black Guy Who's Keepin' It Real, who for some unexplicable reason gives a crap about her. Anyhow, the point is, she's writhing, they're fondling and snogging, he tries to move his hand Down Under and she stops him, letting him know she's on her period. He doesn't believe her and she pushes his hand where the proof lies and then as she's leaving his flat, he yells after her: 'It's cool, I've got towels!'

An element of cinematic realism with the introduction of the most unmentionable of all narrative subject matter? My vote is for unintentional camp humour all the way!

When you dance, you burn.

Melts in your mouth, not in your hands!

I also wasted time today thinking about peanut M&M's.

1. An under-rated candy. Bite-sized, simple and good.

2. When did they reinstate the blue M&M? I'm sure it's old news, but who knew?

3. Remember that rumour in the Eighties about Van Halen demanding there be green M&Ms backstage? Was that true?

4. Why was it kids used to say green M&M's made you horny and is that what David Lee Roth was all excited about backstage?

A PhD in Anti-Social Behaviour?

I just ran into a friend at college and we spent a good 15 minutes lamenting the soul destroying nature of a PhD. As you do. These discussions tend to go in a predictable manner. We share a few practical examples of good and bad work habits. But it quickly devolves into us trying to gleefully big up each other as to who has the least productive habits and who watched Murder She Wrote at 3pm on BBC2.

On average, it takes me a twelve hour day to get about five hours of writing done. And that's a good day. Besides the endless cups of tea, the random phone calls to winge with Sally and the jaunts to Costcutters to buy off-brand chick peas, the addition of wireless in our flat is the real time sucker. I check my email every time I write a complete sentence it seems some days, but I don't reply to very much of it. It's just habitual reflexivity rather then attempts at actual engagement and interaction. But if email is the entry level drug to Internet addiction, then Ebay is surely crack cocaine. Except my habit is not as financially draining because I've capped my spending at items for a fiver, including postage. So it feels more like charity shopping except without the musty smelling clothes and discounts for pensioners. Writing on one's webpage may be more akin to tripping on mushrooms or say acid, only with a smart, subdued colour scheme rather then some tacky tie dyed rainbow motif.

It's been suggested that the best practice is to work for 45 minutes and then take a break for 15 and begin again. But that doesn 't give you much time for Car Booty does it? I mean, how much DID that Victorian cut crystal pen cosy go for? It's also been suggested that spending a day fighting off the self loathing only to allow guilt and pending ulcers sit you down at 8pm and work til the wee hours of the morn might not be the best way either.

Another strategy that is not one the university will teach during induction week is to lower your standards. It's true! We all do it. 'Save that for the book.' 'Change that during final revision.' We're encouraged to do these things by our supervisors who are simply trying to keep us on task. But what lurks behind these practical suggestions is that you are in fact, lowering your standards. Don't write what your heart tells you should be there, write what will get it done.

And that all feeds back into the cycle of self-loathing. It's just an endless loop that makes us feel bad about ourselves and our work. I mean, how many PhD's actually get read after the viva? And for those in the know, how many thesis have you read that you actually thought were good? I thought so. PhD's destroy lives and reward us for being self absorbed bores lacking all semblance of social skills.

Don't get wrong, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a privledged existance that all comes to an end eventually, one way or another. My friend today offered a salient quote, a PhD's take on the inspiration / perspiration adage: 'A PhD is 10% inspiration and 90% procrastination!' Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar and you should give them your draft to proof since they're so clever and organised and all that. Besides, you can always change it for the book!

For Those About To Rock...

More heart-stopping news from the states. Motley Crue acting juvenille with dwarves and strippers on stage? Who said investigative journalism was dead? This link comes courtesy of a friend who used to moonlight as president of the Van Halen Fan Club (he wishes!).

Today I didn't really waste much time. I taught all day. Oh, I did clean my room when I woke up. That counts, surely.

Time waster body cleanser

Today I wasted time taking an exceptionally long shower. The kind we weren't allowed to take in the 1970's growing up in drought-ridden Los Angeles. But boy am I clean!

Is that a problem?

A Hack Among Hackers

How did I waste time today? I went to dinner with a friend (which in some professions is refered to I believe as 'socialising') and I pretended to go for a jog (yeah, um, I don't know what you'd actually call it though I'm sure it wasn't actually jogging, more like trotting on a short leash if one's feet lifted a mere 2 inches off the ground and your nan could beat me in a race).

The point of this post is that I am humbled at what can be accomplished by procrastinators with actual skills. And to be clear, I did not find this myself, I just read an email from captain geek.

Go to the awe-inspring Game Grrl and see how someone decided to put off writing their thesis to make their very own portable Nintendo player. And took the time to provide detailed instructions for us to follow her lead. As my geek friend points out, to start, you just dissassemble the Megajoy. Of course you do.

Why the word blog is like nails on the chalkboard

I hate the word 'blog.' It annoys me less then 'podcasting' but more then the insertion of the letter 'i' before every mac-related consumer accessory. (Seriously, what's podcasting? Audio programmes available on demand for downloading exactly like those that existed before someone did Steve Jobs work for him and came up with that creepy corporate jingoistic name and claimed it was a phenomenon because now that their fifteen year old hipster kid does it it's a trend. I'm a Mac enthusiast and I hate the word.)

But back to blogs. The word makes me cringe less then the film 'Sideways' but more then the overusage of hybrid cross-polinated phrases and made up words plaguing academia like 'glocalisation.'

Am I just too didactic to accept new terminology? Or is it that anything that reeks of buzzword will inevitably be dead in a year's time and I'm pissed I just got started? No, I really think it's my aversion to the need to make visible interesting things people do by giving them names to make the marketing reps happy, even if the word blog has more organic roots then that (NB: I haven't a clue who first used the term). It's like when the Riot Grrl movement in the early 90's was just getting underway. Newsweek had it pegged as the trend of the year before Bikini Kill had a chance to release their second EP. It's all fun and games til the masses find out.

I don't actually mean that of course. It's not the shared awareness and interest I mind - that's a good thing surely. It's perhaps simply that I'm a linguistic purest with a real butt itch about branded labels.

In short, I hate the word 'blog' yet I have one. Does that make me a hypocrit or just an opportunist?

Oh, today I also wasted time baking banana bread.

Why I'm Glad I Write About Radio

You know when you're researching something and you come across a quote that fills your heart with glee? And you decide you must find a way to incorporate said text into your own work because how else can you get a shout out to the devil if not via a crazy evangelical who had a radio station in the 1920's.

'Please order your minions of Satan to leave my station alone stop you cannot expect the almighty to abide by your wave length nonsense stop when I offer my prayers to him I must fit into his wave reception stop open this station at once'

-- Aimee Semple McPherson, telegram to the US Department of Commerce after they padlocked her radio station for frequency drft (1925)

Quote found in Lorenzo Milam's, Sex and Broadcasting.

Boost your morale!

I've developed a really pathetic habit of boosting my morale by checking my Ebay profile and reading through all the positive feedback I've received from sellers, all 9 of them.

Yes, when I'm feeling down, having a low self esteem day, not looking at the silver lining, etc etc, I've taken to finding comfort in the affirmations of complete strangers. Affirmations let's not forget that do not revolve around my intellect, wit and charm, but feedback that affirms a new breed of lifestyle qualifications: 'prompt payer' and 'GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD ebayer!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Are these qualities I should add to my CV?

And furthermore, should I really be admitting this?!

My Best of 2004

Kate’s Best of 2004
aka The Year That Might Have Been (had I gotten out more)


BEST LIVE SHOW
First of all, I don’t think I even saw 10 bands in 2004. Feeble. The truth is that I may actually have seen a lot of bands, but most were at 3am at a squat party or worst, at 4pm in the driving rain in Trafalger Square at a rally against Bush and the war. But truth be told, crusty Euro activist bands suck. In fact, I think they suck so much I could almost yearn for the halcyon days of the LA post march ‘all-star’ bands featuring Slash, Zack de la Rocha and Jackson Browne. At least I could openly mock and not feel bad.

So as not feel totally excluded from a category I would otherwise enjoy contributing to, I’ll just say I (heart) Sunset Junction. Once again, the geezers rocked! The Donna’s were fine. Girls kick ass and wanna get laid too, yeah yeah we know. But X stole the weekend and rocked my world! Then, now and always. Such a good live show my perma-grin started to hurt.

May Joanie’s list serve as my inspiration in this new year.

BEST MUSIC NEW-TO-ME LISTENED TO IN 2004

Rhino Records Left of the Dial (1980’s not new wave)
and No Thanks (1970’s punk rock) compilations
My brothers are in their early twenties and I downloaded loads of the tracks and forced them to listen and learn! The only problem was that Seth and I couldn’t stop singing Lust for Life. Maybe not the most family friendly of yule log lyrics, though a catchy tune for sure. Merry Christmas:

Here comes johnny yen again
With the liquor and drugs
And the flesh machine
He’s gonna do another strip tease.
Hey man, where’d ya get that lotion?

And Left of the Dial - woah. Best eighties compilation.

Polyphonic Spree
Ooh, this CD makes me happy. A great anecdote to the wintry blues. To Joanie’s point about the Volkswagon ad soundtrack, I don’t disagree (and same comment can easily be said of Greyboy - see below) but in the UK, it’s the Groove Armada’s ‘Shakin That Ass’ ad for Renault that dominates the dodgy music for dodgy cars hipster trend.

Animal Collective
I really like their new CD. More amazing pop mixed in with their crazy sound experiments, which was all the last record was. Shall I use the ‘B’ word? Brilliant!

Tilly and the Wall
Pretty. And Sweet. In that folksy lo fi kinda way I enjoy.

Ladybug Transistor
Happy pop! I know last year I said I was going to rock more, but at least my head is bouncing more rather then hanging low. (record out late 2003)

Fruit Bats
I know, I know, more 2003. But like I said, it’s been a belated year for me, musically speaking. And it’s very pretty music in that (see Tilly and the Wall descriptor kinda way).

Greyboy
Very hip packaging this CD comes in, but I like to listen to it despite myself. Jazzy electronica lite. But you don’t have to fake a late night KCRW low-toned throaty affectation to enjoy. Ditto the ‘edgier’ Zero 7. Without Karen, would I have listened to anything new without guitars in 04??

Special Mention to Sexy Death Soda cos they kinda remind me of songs Ted wrote six years ago. And Pretty Girls Make Graves as my final addition to the Missed Them When the First came Out in 03 Category.

Special mention also goes whole-heartedly to Franz Ferdinand. I may never buy their record new, but am so happy to see that a) pop rock isn’t dead and that the era of Limp Biscuit is; b) Brit rock matters again; and c) Scottish pop music no longer has to be defined by The Proclaimers, god bless em’. Can I also mention that Alex Kapranos of Franz Ferdinand just gave the Edinburgh Lecture, the yearly talk once given by the likes of Mikhail Gorbachev and Stephen Hawking. Damon Alburn never got to do that. And Noel Gallagher looked like a ponce sipping Chardonnay with Tony Blair. But oh, if only Blair had stuck with Cool Britannia instead of Imperial America, how different the world might look today!

So what did I busy myself with this past year? Um, er, I watched a lot of telly. And saw a few films. So it is alas the visual medium where my list shall flourish. And it’s where I get to be embarrassingly self-referential in my Brit-o-centrism.

BEST BRITISH TELY (aka, the Wish You Were Here category)

Desperate Housewives
Anyone who says it’s like Sex and the City is wrong and should be banished to TV crit purgatory. It is not. The women are not really friends (ergo the entire premise of SATC), we are not secretly meant to wish our lives were so fabulous like theirs, and you don’t see the slutty one’s tits every other episode. In fact, where has Nicolette Sheridon gone?

The OC
My flatmate and I began setting our schedules to be at home at 1:30pm on Sundays. Woah.

The Sopranos
Yeah well, it’s like saying you like the new Tom Waits record. It may not be the best he’s done, but it’s still good.

Yes, three down, and all American so far. It’s true. Why come to Britain at all you ask?

BBC 2’s airing of Jerry Springer the Opera
In the US, Christians get crazy at the sight of a nipple during a sporting event resplendent with cheerleaders and beer ads. Here, they have some real content to wrap their biblical wrath around. This newspaper excerpt explains better:

'The Musical contains "strong" language and despite the complaints from religious followers, the "Opera" is not really attacking religion itself. However, it does portray Jesus in a nappy admitting he is "a bit gay"...Still, the producers of Springer remain defiant. They have even offered £10 tickets to those of the Christian faith to see the show at the Cambridge Theatre and see the offending scenes in context. To qualify for the discount, theatregoers must present a copy of the New Testament at the box office.'

Basically, the first half of the show is a Springer episode in operatic form. Lots of sexual deviants and unfaithful partners, and the chorus sings about lesbians, skanks and fucking whores. The second half goes to hell (literally!) when Jerry Springer (played by David Soul!) is sent to Hades and his only means of escape is to help Satan win an apology from Jesus. Adam and Eve are an abusive white trash couple from the first part and not only is Jesus a fat black man in a diaper, but Mary’s finest moment is when she yells at him to stop complaining so much about his crucifixion. In fact, everyone goes off Jesus for being such a whiner.

Prime-time telly just after Christmas. God bless us all!

Cocaine
Amazing three-part series on the dangers and inner-workings of the cocaine industry as told by actual South Americans. Imagine a programme on coke that isn’t focussed solely on the US or written by Bret Easton Ellis. And it was prime time in Spanish with subtitles.

The Power of Nightmares
Another stellar performance by the crack (no pun intended) current affairs programmers in the UK. Another example of how smart people who aren’t burdened with trying to sway voters can make much more compelling pieces about the power of fear in American society then Michael Moore.

Fewer documentaries on Hitler then any year prior!
Perhaps it’s due to the growth of the cable industry and they are all on the History Channel or BBC 16 or whatever. Or maybe lifestyle telly sells more Mini Coopers. Or maybe, they are just saving them all for next year when the World Cup is in Germany. Don’t think I’m joking about that last one.

Shameless
An evening soap whose style starts where the infamous Joan Collins / Linda Evans pool fight left off. I don’t go out of my way for this one, but happy to have it keep me company during tea.

Teachers
This year, one of the drunken teachers shags a student who dumps her cos she’s getting in the way of his studies. And during the school’s annual gay pride week, the female principal is obsessed with trying to sort out what exactly lesbians do in bed together.

Monkey Dust
Animated crass tomfoolery of a current affairs and pop cultural nature. Gets it spot on more often then not.

Euro Cup 2004
As watched from a carport in Los Angeles. See for yourself why the US may win an international football title before the English do! (and, no the CONCACAF title doesn’t count. A country as large as the US beats Honduras…ya don’t say? If only England had to play Malta for a title!)

Little Britain
Closest thing to Kid’s in the Hall genius recent British comedy has. If Scott Thompson’s catch phrase was: ‘I’m the only gay in the village!’

The Office
For anyone who’s ever worked in a cubicle. Don’t trust the American remake. Rent this first.

Ricky Gervais Live
Of The Office fame. Imagine the office manager giving a talk on sexuality in the animal kingdom and reading from the Book of Genesis.

Car Booty
More embarrassing revelations - I remain addicted to lifestyle TV. There’s the annoying property shows that make me angry - shows like Property Ladder or Under the Hammer. Oooh, watch the newly minted yuppies winge over whether or not they have the creativity to paint a bathroom in a flat they want to spend 450,000 quid on. No, those are tedious. And they are plentiful. There’s also the equally annoying but somehow tolerable A Place In The Sun. Ignorant British couples fancy a tan and move to Spain to find an entire nation doesn’t give a toss about yet another couple of pasty, pint drinking, sheppard’s pie eating English fools who show no interest in learning Spanish and seem to have done no research before they buy. Like the couple who spent loads of money to open a petting zoo to make some cash while they waited 8 months for building permits they didn’t know they needed only to find out they are 2 miles away from a lovely – and free – public zoo. True story.

But I digress. My favourite is still the buy-old-crap-to-resell shows (some call them ‘antiques’). Last year, it was Cash in the Atttic atop my list. This year, it’s Car Booty. Really, it’s in the name. But imagine a show where you get money to go to, say, the PCC swap meet to buy crap and then the next week show up at the Rose Bowl swap meet to see if you can turn a profit by selling said crap. And did I mention it’s called ‘Car Booty’?

I’m A Celebrity get Me Out of Here
I know. Back from last year. Only 2004’s featured the editor of a proper broadsheet newspaper (Janet Street Porter from The Independent) and Princess Diana’s former butler Paul Burrell. Do you remember him? He was one of her closest confidants, then he nicked a bunch of her stuff after she died and sold his story to cash in on the wrath of a Diana-loving nation. He shrieked like a young Drew Barrymore in ET whence faced with his fear of snakes. And cried when he made it to the final. He didn’t win. But boy did he want to wear that crown!

BEST FILMS
I dunno. I saw a bunch of them. The ones I saw in the theatre were all pretty good, except for Troy but mainly because nobody who knows anything about Greek mythology is going to be able to suspend belief when the hot femmie young blonde thang knocking about with Achilles is his ‘cousin.’ That, and it was a crap film. The ones I saw on airplanes were not so good. And I saw a lot of videos.

Here are my favourite films of the last year:

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Bill Murray as Bill Murray! Willem Dafoe as comic sidekick! David Bowie in Portuguese! Sea Creatures! Wes Anderson continues to make great films!

G.O.R.A.
Turkish spoof on all things sci fi. If Spaceballs had been really funny and featured an Eastern European wise guy carpet salesman as the hero.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Who knew I could tolerate Jim Carey in a film AND really rate it?

Motorcycle Diaries
Not the best film ever but who didn’t want to travel around South America after that?
And so nice to see images of Che Guevara not silkscreened on a t-shirt.

The Year of the Lefty Documentary
Very happy to see them all out there but couldn’t manage to see more then half in the actual theatre. Some more fun to talk about then actually watch (Super Size Me, Outfoxed). The one I found the smartest and best researched was The Corporation (leave it to the Canadians!). It would have been near-perfect were it not over 2 hours long.

Films that probably would have made the list had I seen them:
Vera Drake
Maria Full of Grace
A Very Long Engagement
Los Angeles Plays Itself
The Aviator (was vetoed from seeing it Friday by a friend due to the Leonardo diFactor. I guess I have a Scorsese Exemption on him in films)
That Metallica documentary. Ooo do I want to piss on them!


WORST FILM TO RECEIVE CRITICAL ACCLAIM…EVER!

Sideways
Proof that inside every white male film critic (ie most film critics, yes?) is an unattractive middle aged guy just itching to shag a hot younger Asian woman. This film makes me angry. Award for Worst Ugly Man to Beautiful Woman Ratio in a film. Tops even Indecent Proposal, Pretty Woman or anything with Michael Douglas. Starts to explain why the gawd-awful Shallow Hal was even conceived. Yuck! Just cos it’s a romantic comedy that actually centres around annoying men instead of annoying women DOES NOT MAKE IT GOOD. And may I never EVER come across a motif as over-wrought as the wine crapola and all the creepily yuppie tourist marketing sponsored by Gallo (!) that has ensued. For men nostalgic of The Big Chill to give meaning to their midlife crisis. Can’t they just go buy a Porsche? Nice landscapes of the Santa Inez Valley though.


BEST ROYAL GAFFE (EARLY ENTRY FOR 2005)

Prince Harry's Dressed as the Wannabe Nazi.
At a fancy dress party whose theme was ‘Colonials and Natives,’ let’s not forget. Anyone up for a game of 'Slaves and Masters'? I trust this photo made the rounds of the American press.

It's the kind of story everyone loves because it exposes the royal family as the thickies they actually are! And really, he's just following in his great grandfather's goosestepping footsteps, after all.

Curious how 2003 rated? Link to past best of's among a group of people with clearly too much work to do like me. Here, we inflict our own form of symbolic violence via our far superior taste in pop culture.