R.I.P. #1

The recent death of Michael Jackson left me strangely unmoved. When Princess Di died I was living in a house in Denmark full of hippies who didn’t give a toss, so I’d no prior experience of being unmoved and being told this was strange. I felt genuinely sorry for their families but not much else, possibly because I hadn’t enjoyed Jackson’s later music much and adhered to the Jarvis Cocker school of thought that though talented and possibly harmless he probably wasn’t the saviour of all the world’s children. Then I remembered he had brothers called Jackie, Tito, Jermaine and Marlon; that night I dreamed a dream – good grief I must have eaten a lot of cheese the previous evening - what it would’ve been like if Jackie Chan, President Josip “Broz” Tito of Yugoslavia, Germaine Greer and Marlon Brando had been the pallbearers:

Germaine: You know, he was such a beautiful young man, in that special age between innocence and maturity.
Marlon: He coulda been a contender.
Germaine: He was a contender, you idiot! It’s just that you choose to judge him by the handed-down values of a Patriarchal society...
Jackie: Hey, this funeral is kinda boring, how about if the hearse is hijacked by the Triads, door opens, coffin flies down road and through the streets of Chinatown, and we go after it fighting everybody we meet on the way?
Germaine: ...that gives women nothing but second-class sexual citizenship and shitty orgasms
Marlon: Got any butter with you?*
Germaine: No I haven’t, you fat, pervy narcissist! So what are you rebelling against?
Marlon: What have you got? Dairylea would probably do.
Germaine: I didn't fight to get women out from behind vacuum cleaners to get them onto the cheese board.
Jackie: Ha, so you think your verbal kung fu is good, heh, Sheila?? You wait till Julie Birchill show up, then we see who is true master!
Marlon: The horror, the horror...
Tito: Hey, I successfully led partisan troops against the fascist armies during World War II and then united the mutually antagonistic Southern Slavic peoples during 35 years of relative harmony whilst both making friends with Western leaders and keeping the Red Army at bay, while this Jackson was just a singer with an squeeky voice and a funny face. I can’t believe I agreed to do this. Still, I ‘spose, a gig’s a gig.
Vicar (David Bowie, for it is he): Ashes to ashes, funk to funky, Michael Jackson was a junkie; Gone to the llama ranch in the sky, hitting an all-time high.
Everybody: Amen.

Gadjo Dilo wishes to thank the producers of On The Waterfront, Last Tango in Paris, The Wild One, Apocalypse Now and all of Jackie Chan’s films, and the publishers of The Female Eunuch, The Beautiful Boy , Ashes to Ashes and Yugo First: An Autobiography for their kind permission etc.

* I hesitated, much, before referencing this by-all-accounts terminally unpleasant film; but then I thought, if anyone can handle it Germaine Greer probably can.

Here's the geezer with his bros from the era which I personally prefer to remember:

Top Cats #1

The result of the votes counted after the Previous Moggie Post was that our two trencherman tabbies are now named Tanu and Ţuţica, the most Romanian names on offer, and already X is leaning how to mix dodgy cement and Y is seeing how much cheap gold she can fit into the gaps between her molars. And, hurrah, the miracle of childbirth has once again been visited upon the world! Somewhere. Ţuţica’s tummy is now full of milk rather than babies, though we have no idea where she’s put the latter. Mysterious. While we look for them, in honour of All Things Cat – for taxonomic reasons I’ve divided the contest into Feral and Fluffy - here’s my all time list of Five Favourite Feral Felines:

5: Tom off of Tom & Jerry

Only the episodes from the Fred Quimby era, of course, or Kevin would kill me, and rightly so. Not the most imaginative name for a cat, perhaps, but then he was EveryCat: playful, adventurous, soft-hearted, cowardly, greedy, but above all just very very violent.

4: Cat Stevens

Born Shakin’ Stevens to a Greek taramasalata salesman and a Swedish masseuse in London’s Welsh Quarter in 1948, he had a troubled youth not knowing who he was. Eventually he found solace in beard-wearing, in all its many fine manifestations, and changed his given name to something more hirsute-sounding. (With his peace campaigning and his moderate Islamic views he should maybe be a Fluffy rather than a Feral, but I fear I may need all 5 slots of the former for the kittens, when we find them.)

3: George Galloway out of Respect

A maverick, left-leaning politician with a following from Ken Loach to (at a guess, but for the man's sake I'm hoping not) Derek Hatton, when one fateful day in January 2006 he was seen purring and pretending to drink milk from a saucer. As a trained mime artist I respected him very much for this. He’s since confessed to suffering from felo-variant Kepler’s Syndrome, and has put himself on a special diet of Whiskas Junior as the first step in a rehabilitation programme.

2: Top Cat off of Top Cat

Pleasingly, exactly what is says on the tin: leads a mélange of alley cats in a constant scampery of foraging, romancing, rock ‘n’ rock and abuse of authority. Loosely based on Sgt. Bilko, apparently - indeed the actor playing Pvt. Doberman there voiced TC’s sidekick Benny - but with the leadership skills of Napoleon, Che Guevara and Mike Brierley all rolled into one. You’d follow this cat anywhere.

1: ”Cat” off of Red Dwarf

The coolest cat in the cat-basket. You might think I’m only saying that because he’s anthropomorphosised. But no, the comedy sci-fi show actually had it right: “Cat” is the Future of Felinism. A hundred or so years ago we became aware that Life Imitates Art, and now, I am sure, so will Evolution*; in 3,000,000 years I fully expect moggies to be standing on hind legs and wearing cyclamen-coloured zoot suits.

* Dilo, G. “Unnatural Selection: Post-Modern Evolution of Species”, PhD Thesis, University of Life, Cluj-Napoca, 2009.

Gadjo Dilo’s Peccadillos #4: Housewives, choice

Mrs Dilo’s away this week and so Gadjo’s mind again starts to wander a bit - and he also realises how the housework builds up during the course of seven days... And so, as we focus in ever closer on the ideal of perfect female luvliness, this time we’ll discuss the necessary qualities of The Housewife:

Jane Asher

Is it apocryphal or has Jane Asher really promoted more homecare products than any other housewife?? Jane must be pushing 70 by now but she’s still quite pretty. And that’s the problem. To be a proper housewife you’ve got to age properly. Jane looks fine because she’s got some Ecuadorian slave lady on 50p a month doing her chores for her - I bet she’s never unblocked the lav in her life!! Sorry, not impressed.

Sheena Easton

“My baby takes the morning train,
He works from nine till five and then
He takes another home again
To find me waitin’ for him”

She’s just been sitting there, waitin’ for him. Maybe she’s rearranged some things in the fridge or thought about doing the ironing, but she’s mainly been just waitin’, and we know what that means – right, lads? You’re exhausted but as soon as you get in you have to listen to her rabbiting on about who was going into Mrs Tibbs’ house, what was on Richard & Judy, and can she buy a new washing machine. D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

Dame Edna Everage

The self-proclaimed “Housewife Superstar". But is she? She’s certainly sturdy and has aged appropriately over time, but there’s something not quite right there and I can’t put my finger on it. Too much make-up, possibly.

Freddie Mercury

Something fishy going on here too but again I’m not sure what. Ah yes, I’ve got it now, it’s the hovering technique. Take a look: she doesn’t go under the sofa or the table. Move the chairs to the side, tell Gran to stand up for a minute... come on luv, it’s really not that difficult!

Sofia Loren

2nd time in for Sofia. She’s a statuesque and Cleopatra-nosed housewife in A Special Day, therefore fulfilling most of my previously elaborated criteria; (the chance to do some pole-vaulting in that film’s rooftop scene amongst the washing lines was missed, which I think was a mistake, but I’ll let it pass). The character she plays is dowdy, yet underneath a well of passion that’s been suppressed by years of domestic choirs and an unthinking twerp of a husband. Luvly.

Pam Grier

Pammie was always well-proportioned and in every way up there with Sofia according to my criteria. Admittedly, we’ve seen her more often toting a Colt 45 than an Electrolux Z1030C, but I reckon she could still do a job about the house - in fact she may be yearning for it after all those tough-girl rôles. The best thing Quentin Tarantino ever did was in Jackie Brown when he simply let the camera soak her up, often just walking from one place to another. It had been 20 years since she’d been a Blaxploitation Babe but she was luvlier than ever (though just imagine, just for a second, if she’d also been pushing a Eubank carpet sweeper at the time, mmm…). Yep, I think we’ve got a winner!

To end, here’s some of my favourite flamenco music; get a load of gypsy housewife La Perla de Cadiz:

Basil Fawlty Moment #3: RyanAir

I’ve just booked some flights with RyanAir, and I used to love RyanAir, but not any more. I used to plan great journeys involving getting up at 3:30am, travelling through several different countries, running between bus stations and airports and only ever taking hand luggage, just so as I could use RyanAir flights to get to my ultimate destination and thereby save £20. But now it seems they’re getting sneakier and sneakier: “ţigănie” they’d call it here – “Gypsy business”. There are lots of boxes where you must select (or, more cleverly, deselect) stuff, and each thing you want puts an extra £10 on the price. Here’s your RyanAir webpage these days:

1 MILLION FLIGHTS GOING FOR £1, OFFER MUST END TONIGHT!!!

Flight F666: East Burnage “Liam Gallagher” Airport 04:55am – Zgzygrxysk 07:45am - £1

Please select the following options:

On your RyanAir flight would you like to eat: 1) Nothing except your fingernails 2) A blueberry muffin for £3.99 3) A cheese sandwich for £4.99 4) Your words (boom boom!)

On your RyanAir flight would you like the air stewards and stewardesses to be: 1) Well-trained, courteous professionals 2) Slags 3) Leprosy sufferers 4) Deaf

On your RyanAir flight would you like to breath: 1) Air 2) Carbon Dioxide 3) The exhaust from the engine 4) Zyklon B

Upon arrival at your destination, would you like the baggage control staff to: 1) Process your baggage carefully and efficiently 2) Send your skis to Addis Ababa just for a laugh 3) Practice penalty shootouts in their smoking room with any small packages you’ve checked in labelled “FRAGILE” 4) Not even bother coming in to work that day

Would you like to pay for your tickets with: 1) A credit or debit card, or perhaps a postal order or a bank transfer 2) RyanAir’s special “Favoured Customer” Platinum account (interest rate %105 per month) 3) Your family silver 4) Your life


If you’ve selected all No. 1s then the bill is now £51 and that’s just one-way. You’ll wish you’d flown cheesyJet instead.


Right, well, don’t say I haven’t warned you – this time I’m going to give you a damn good thrashing!!

Name That Cat!

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SMALL FURRY ANIMALS

I felt it was time for something light-hearted after the white-hot intensity of the last few offerings. Yes, lacking issue of their own, the Dilos have gone gaga over a couple of walking-stomachs that present themselves at the door and for a bit of nosh will purr and chase balls of wool etc like complete tarts. Apart from needing food they also need names, and as I reckon I can make a bob from fellow felophiles I’m asking you, The Blogging Public, to choose the names! Just send me your choice with a postal order for £4.99 (or tins of Scoff-a-lot Venison Chunks in Bovril to the equivalent value) and you could win.... a kitten!!

CAT X

Definitely a male of the species, as he has an enormous pair of testicles of which he is (rightly) very proud. Absurdly friendly given he’s supposed to be feral and out and about pawing giant herring skeletons out of trash cans like on Top Cat. Choose from these names:

Tanu: Derived from “Motan”, meaning “tomcat”. Definitely the hardest name here and one he’d have to work hard to live up to, by taunting bulldogs and humiliating policemen (again, like on Top Cat).

Pufi: Pronounced “Poofy”, means “fluffy”... the least hardest name here. “If you have to get a cat, get one the same colour as your carpet” my Grandmother might have said. The fluff emanating from X is pretty much the same as our carpet, keeping cleaning chores to a minimum, so, thanks Gran.

Stinker: A name he’s already earned by his own efforts. Though fastidiously clean most of the time he “loses it” in moments of great excitement and the stench cannot be removed by any known means. Nothing wrong with those testicles then.

CAT Y

The girlfriend/sister/mother of X, and apparently those things are not mutually exclusive... moving swiftly on... Has large tummy and prominent teats, so already pregnant, which explains why she likes the diet of salami, toast, spaghetti and taramasalata Mrs Dilo feeds her. Choose from these names:

Ţuţica: Derived from the Hungarian “Macska” (meaning “cat”), via Transylvanian dialect “Mâţa” (from the Hungarian, meaning “cat”), diminutivised and feminised to “Ţica”, pet-ified to “Ţuţica”. Obvious, really.

Musette: Apparently it’s from The Aristocats. I’m not convinced Y speaks French, but it does display a certain, classy, sang froid in situations not involving the opening of the fridge door.

Kitty DeLuxe: When in an ecstasy of wanting dinner starts wiggling about with eyes half-closed like an adult film actress. Also the name of the character memorably played by the lovely Megan Dodds in BBC TV’s Viva Blackpool.

R U Bonkers? #3

WARNING: GADJO DILO IN NO WAY RECOMMENDS TRYING ANY OF THE ACTIVITIES DESCRIBED HERE AT HOME, ESPECIALLY THE CHESS

Chapter 2: What's My Line?

Right, you’ve found yourself institutionalised, been drafted onto the Acute Department football team and now you’ve got to make yourself at home. Lesson two is: Every psychiatric patient needs a gimmick. If you haven’t got one you might just as well be sitting at home in your underpants or in a pub all afternoon staring into a glass of warm lager. You could for instance be The One Who Dresses Up As His Mother or The One Who Eats Insects or The One Who Believes He Is The Messiah or perhaps The One Where Rachel and Phoebe Disinter People and Turn Their Body Parts into Household Ornaments (that’s “Friends” – Ed.). But these have already been done. Hopefully you’ll think up a new one, one that’s really “you”. Here are some top ideas to try out:

The One Who Talks to the Goldfish

Everybody needs somebody to talk to, and sometimes the psychotherapists are So Rubbish that you turn elsewhere. The hospital cat might pretend it’s listening to you but it’s not a reliably captive audience. That’s why if you’ve got any sense, you’ll pull up a chair next to the fish tank. And don’t worry, you’re not “interrupting” just because your friend’s mouth is still opening and closing your mouth when you want to say something.

The One Who Plays Chess with Himself

(And it’s definitely himself, by the way). Chess players are plain strange, and I myself spent a bit time playing it when young. But to be weirder even than Bobby Fischer you need to go beyond the paranoia by eliminating actual competition. As with other forms of masturbation, solo chess is self-satisfying and self-congratulatory and, most importantly, you’d be even more autistic if you didn’t do it.

The One Who Thinks He's a Robot

Former computer programmer, natch. Again, I’ve fulfilled this function so feel I can speak with impunity. A standard process of psychological disintegration is observed: 1. Admiration (they’re just so smart, and clean, aren’t they!), 2. Sexual Attraction (I take my laptop to bed to play Solitaire but end up falling asleep cuddling it!), 3. Rejection (why don’t girls like me now?), 4. Identification (only computers understand me!), 5. Bonkers (Look into my eyes... see where the circuitry is wrong! No, don’t touch me with wet hands!!!)

The One Who Swallows Light bulbs

To recapture that inner glow, that spark of life, that radiance you felt you lost when you had your breakdown, why not swallow light bulbs? Start by swallowing them when they’re not switched on, to get the hang of it; then wait till Christmas and pop a couple off of the tree in your mouth whilst nobody’s looking - the transformer will ensure that you’ll only get a slight tingle inside (the flashing ones make it even more tingly); then work your way up to 60W Osrams and 3’ long neons. Soon you have an act that you can take on stage and they’ll let you out knowing you can find a place for yourself in the outside world! Hurrah!!!


The cheery song ending this chapter is The Velvet Underground’s “I Heard Her Call My Name" - about 28 seconds into this rather distracted young chap’s home video – which has got me through many a night.

TV Transylvania #4

In a last-ditch attempt I finally got in touch with the Director General: I made myself up to look like one of his squeezes and sauntered as slinkily as I could into the Trans TV mansion hoping to curry his favours. He said he hadn’t received my previous suggestions for TV programmes, would immediately fire all his secretarial staff, had a new position for me and felt sure I could handle it. It was ghastly. But then I hit him with my brilliant idea and he stopped trying to remove my Moldovan peasant bodice - 24 very small buttons, ladies, not so stupid after all - with his horrible hairy hands. The idea is this: Romanians don’t need new TV programmes – they’re still watching reruns of Dallas, waiting to see if it was still just Bobby’s dream - but we can make programmes to sell abroad. Cheap labour costs and low production values ensure we can make anything more cheaply here. Here’s my first programme idea, triggered by comments on Lulu’s blog about my wife’s regrettable attitude towards lower life forms:

WORLD’S WORST BUDDHIST

A knockout competition, where each week several contestants vie for this title. The format will be based on the hugely entertaining (and cheap) British TV programme Banzai and, as there, will be narrated by the great Burt Kwouk and is in no way intended to be an accurate depiction of the way people from Asia or anywhere else really speak etc etc etc:

Contestant 1: Look like baldy bloke from Bucharest but he say he Tibetan spiritual leader! Live in luxury penthouse monastery, spend disciples’ money on beer and say to world leaders not to visit him as he don’t give shit about their problems – yeah, he Lama With Bad Karma!!!

Contestant 2: He say he “Vlad Impaler Number 2” and carry big spike of wood around with him – look proper plonker! Ha ha ha!! Say he going make kebab with giant panda, Siberian tiger and very endangered Javan rhino - if you do matey you coming back as a worm for sure!!!

Contestant 3: This one say he Richard Gere and want to be Buddhist, but he make stupid films for girls and stick a hamster up his jacksie - that not in teachings of Awakened One... you go back to California Freaky Man, even World's Worst Buddhist too good for you!!!

Contestant 4: This one Mrs Dilo; in daytime work as nurse but when has day off she sure no angel!! Today she squash 5 snails, 3 frogs, throw brick at dickey bird, punch cute bunny rabbit in face and kick little baby dog across street – she don’t care nuffing!!!!!


OK. Test 1 is break paving slabs on head for 10 minutes like Shaolin monk while chanting sacred mantra “Steven Seagal world’s best Buddhist and movie actor” without being sick, going to toilet or crying for your mummy.

PLACE YOUR BETS NOW!!!!