Okay, it’s not that I hate PDAs per se, (public displays of affection, for the uninitiated); I don’t, I mean, myself and hubby hold hands, cuddle and share the odd kiss in public, but we’ve never engaged in what I’d call the breach of common decency ‘get a room’ moment like some skin-crawling scenes I’ve witnessed.
You see, like most couples, we know we love each other, and don’t feel the need to grope each other in public like cute, yet frustrated spider monkeys in order to prove it.
Besides, I’m a firm believer in the old ‘time and place’ rule whereby if you want to extract someone’s tonsils with your tongue, and, er, perform lewd acts on each other’s person, then for God’s sake do it in the privacy of your own home or a hotel room, but keep it out of my face.
What’s brought this on? Last week’s images of actor Orlando Bloom and singer Katy Perry’s Italian getaway where the British actor, morphing into love’s young dream, dangly bits unencumbered and, (pardon the pun), in full bloom, paddle boarded in the nip, before going on to fondle and grope Perry’s boobs – all this was carried out and captured by the loaded glare of the paparazzi; even going on to break the internet. Wow, I’ll bet Kim Kardashian’s ass is sooooo jealous!
I mean, Orlando is nearly forty yet, with this display he’s behaving more like an immature teenage boy who has just realised he’s got a penis; and for me, this is not ‘amore’ folks, it’s blatant exhibitionism and, er the height of cheek, and he needs to put his appendage and his bare butt away and keep the hot and heavy stuff for behind closed doors. Besides, from what I could see of Perry’s reaction, it appeared (and I could be wrong), but she wasn’t too keen on being felt up in public, so perhaps they need to have a little chat about what they individually expect from this relationship regarding what is sickening and what is sweet; and then lay down the clear rules they’d each like to apply when it comes to their intimate interaction in public places.
Ok, on the other hand, Bloom may just have been playing up for the cameras, but surely his publicists could have come up with a better ploy because lip-locking, boob grabbing and stripping naked is highly inappropriate for public consumption; or is that just my opinion?
You know, maybe it’s a cultural divide here; maybe it’s my very Irish guilt ridden Catholic, convent education that makes me feel it’s fine to hold hands in public and it’s fine to kiss but it’s simply not ok to fumble, fondle and grope another person’s private parts and go commando in front of the masses!
John is breaking down barriers with Croagh Patrick Challenge
There are numerous ways to get your news; I mean it’s hardly like Roman times where, given the era, and the restrictions, the Emperor’s minions would use bits of lead to scrawl declarations and notices on massive whitewashed boards around the cities. But hey, it worked and people got their news fix. Fast-forward to today and the role of the local newspaper, which, despite the onset of the internet, is still hugely important; with the editor’s job being to try and deliver a balanced, interesting and entertaining weekly publication that is an accurate and fair reflection of the entire community.
Why? Well, local news and local people are the lifeblood of this county; as is every person living nearby. This is why I love the fact this newspaper is behind 29-year-old John Tobin’s September challenge to climb Croagh Patrick. John, who hails from neighbouring Galway, is a wheelchair user attending the Brothers of Charity Cherry House Special Needs Centre in Roscommon and this newspaper, heartened by his ‘Climb with John’ challenge, has dedicated itself to championing him as his exclusive media partner.
Despite living with Cerebral Palsy John is an inspiring individual, and, while I’ve never met him, I would imagine, like the majority of those with, (and I hate the word) disabilities, John has a rich resource of untapped abilities that not only enhance his life, but also enhance the lives of his family, friends and those who come into contact with him.
Next month, John plans to use those abilities to break down barriers; to help every single one of us gain a new perspective to realise that we need to see beyond what we perceive to be someone’s physical obstacles. With this remarkable challenge, John will show us that, despite his ‘disability’ he is constantly innovating and finding different ways to accomplish what would be, for the rest of us, common everyday tasks. I wish him success.
RTE once again runs with mediocrity!
RTE has seen the light and decided to axe The Voice Ireland…so, it’s so long to teams Bressie, Kian, Rachel and Una, nice knowing yas; don’t let the studio door hit yas in the backside on the way out!
You see, in my opinion it’s about time someone at RTE got a clue and realised that this was possibly one of the most boring shows, (along with X Factor and its sob stories of dead grannies and long-lost daddies) to ever get commissioned.
And no, I’m not talking about the acts who performed on The Voice, I’m talking about the line-up of tedious, embarrassing, mediocre and precocious has-beens (remember the grating Dolores O’Riordan and Jamelia) who were supposed to be talent coaches and judges.
You see, I remember when The Voice Ireland was first touted, independent production company Screentime Shinawhil was at pains to promote the fact that viewers would be looking at ‘big national and international names as presenters and coaches.’ Wow, what we got was a proliferation of abysmal desperados engaged in a perilous last ditch attempt to reignite public interest in their failing careers.
But what will replace the Voice’s primetime Sunday viewing slot I hear you ask? Well, RTE’s big-hitter is…wait for it…Dancing with the Stars, meaning if watching more has-beens, sorry celebrities, with two left feet and more personal life dramas than a soap opera looking like they’ve been frozen alive with Botox as they wing their way through the RTE tunnel of dubious stardom to ‘dance’ us through the winter with choreographed routines and professional ballroom dancing partners is what floats your boat, then you’re in for a treat. Altogether now…and five, six, seven, eight!
