English Mentors: Flogging Brideshead dreams to the foreign rich

Channel 4 TV show The Russians Are Coming introduces me to a charming outfit called English Mentors. Imagine you're a mega-rich Russian breeder with a brat to civilise - how could you fast-track it into an English public school such as Eton or Stowe for all the global advantages that money can buy? Simples. You hand it over to English Mentors.

For a fee so substantial it warrants no mention, EM will billet your kid on an English country house and put it through short "modules" in etiquette, clay shooting, polo, English language, deportment, visits to the Palace of Westminster and BBC studios and other delights that spell Brideshead Culture. EM is purposed to create smart little foreign Englishers who can fit into public school castes.

ON EM's website chairman Field Marshall, Lord Bramall describes these modules as "discreet" and likens them to Sandhurst's officer training course. Key kiddie markets would appear to be Russian, Chinese, Middle Eastern and US. Even the Duchess Fergiana is on hand to sell EM - "I want to give my children a chance, the best possible chance," she says in the backseat of what could be a chauffeur-driven Daimler. "The demand for well paid jobs that are spiritually enriching is far outstripping supply."

Do watch the promo video. It artfully draws in royalty, the military, the English bar, the City... and the better newspapers... as privilege is put up for purchase. And it's all so wonderfully shameless.

Cheryl & Ashley Cole: Come on, sling your marital bling for Haiti

Dear Mr & Mrs Cole,

Look, I'll be honest with you. I couldn't give a fuck about your marriage split. That's your business. You're both very rich, very famous, very spoilt people. You are both decadent. Cheryl, your engagement ring alone cost £100,000 - and bought from the proceeds of a legal settlement with the lying News of the World. Don't deny it: you admitted it to Piers Morgan in GQ.

Brand Cole is worth cumulatively at least (but much more than) £30m. Now you are about to divorce. Here's a piece of advice.

Do something useful for a change and auction off all the bling associated with your union for the benefit of Haiti. Fight fight fight for life. Ashley, forget about your cock for one moment and think outside that sullen, self-absorbed nature of yours. You wanker. Cheryl, forget about your pain, your airport poses, your moody pouts (do you really want to be Posh The Sequel?), your silly planted tabloid tales and all the rest of the tabloid shit.

About 250,000 people lost their lives in the recent Haiti tragedy. About 2 million are homeless. Even your bling won't make much difference. But what an example it would set to the tabloid morons who envy your good fortune. Turn your pain into something useful.

Do it.

(Mega-PR Mark Borkowski's petition seeking to persuade Cheryl and Ashley to sling their bling for Haiti  - click here.)

Madame Arcati

Will Self - a condom slug and a disturbing dildo

Novelist Will Self - who complicates the simplest thoughts with big or obscure words * - writes an entertainingly discursive diary for the London Review of Books (Feb 25 edition). In an appreciation of Melvyn Bragg's In Our Time on Radio 4, he sidetracks to his walk across London's Clapham Common with his doggy, Maglorian. And what an event it turns out to be.

He notes of the south side of the common: "The area around here is a notorious cruising ground for men in search of casual homosexual encounters, and often when I walk through it in the mornings I will spot a used condom, as if it were some strange kind of latex airborne slug that, having leaped for the skies, has ended up dangling from the brambles." This is a very fine, well described image, and we should be grateful to the cruisers for inspiring Will's natural outburst of creativity, certain to be recycled in one of his novels. A family picnic, with a plaid tablecloth spread of chicken sandwiches and Thermos tea, would perhaps not stir his imagination.

Further along in his peregrination he freezes at the sight of a 10"-long dildo on the path. It's "made of red, slightly translucent plastic, and fashioned artfully in the manner of an engorged penis, right down to its exposed dome and network of veins." He is distrubed by the "juxtaposition between the mechanical and the faked organic." Civic mindedly, he picks it up with the intention of bin disposal, but Maglorian mistakes the dildo for a play stick and begins "yapping frantically". Odd to handle it: I'd wonder where it's been.

Once again I found myself grateful to the shadowy al fresco nymphs and satyrs who gambol about our city parks at night: they can never know of their contribution to literature.

* Some big or obscure words from Will's piece for you to look up
Dehiscent
Therianthropes
Smirr

Mark McGowan survives Wootton Bassett's savage pensioners

He boldly pushed a trolley bearing a "Sorry" cardboard sign through the near-empty streets of Wootton Bassett. The cortege flag-wavers stayed away, not a coffin or a Dimbleby was to be seen. But perhaps curtains twitched. Scenes of mass destruction may upset some Arcatistes.

A 'bullying' Prime Minister, but what of Andy Coulson?

Tory leader David Cameron calls for an inquiry into Gordon Brown's "bullying" conduct towards his staff with the suggestion he's unfit for high office. Quite right. But what a pity Cameron didn't call for an inquiry into - and has not publicly addressed once - the bullying conduct of someone very close to himself, the Tory media boss Andy Coulson. Last year, the former editor's bullying of a sports reporter cost the News of the World £800,000 before costs - a record award for workplace bullying.

Sadly The Times, which laudably publishes a leader today on the bullying claims against the PM - labelling bullies "weak" - was not moved to comment on Coulson's offence at the time.

Come to think of it, why hasn't the National Bullying Helpline - which has confirmed Number 10 staff concerns about the PM - made an issue of Coulson? Questions, questions. Rhetorical.

Rod Liddle to Suzanne Moore: 'Sorry I called you a "fucking hypocrite"... '

Rod and Suzanne make up ...

One would have to have a heart of stone not feel some sympathy for Rod Liddle, what with the vitriolic Facebook campaign against him over the Independent, Madame Arcati's exclusive on his unseemly Facebook row with the darling Suzanne Moore, Roy Greenslade's Guardian vendetta, and, oh, lots of things. How did all this pressure affect Rod - did it get to him?

I've just hacked into Suzanne's email account and among some priceless exchanges between her and Rod is this line from him apropos their Facebook face-off: "But I'm sorry I called you a 'fucking hypocrite'. It's been a rough week. Hypocrite would have done."

Let's send him healing prayers ....

'Rod Liddle won't be editing the Independent' - thanks to Madame Arcati

Alexander Lebedev - a man of incomparable wisdom. He is Madame Arcati's Man of the Year. And it's only February

Rod Liddle will not be the next editor of the Independent, the Guardian reports. The paper claims that Alexander Lebedev had a change of heart.

I have little doubt this was due to Madame Arcati: Mr Lebedev is a follower of Arcati on Twitter and visits this site regularly for about 0.3 seconds per ingress. For a man of his intelligence and scope this would be sufficient time to scan the educated hostility to fag-ash Liddle whose politics, demeanour, temperament and flakiness (and hairstyle) are the subject of much concern.

And it was Madame Arcati that exclusively ran the Facebook row between Liddle and Suzanne Moore: while she was the model of civility, preparing to cook lunch for her little poppets, he ranted and raved like, er, someone who thought he was a national newspaper editor already.

Anyone who writes a column for the hideous and bullying Sunday Times is, as a matter of course, unsuitable for the Independent. Incidentally, does anyone know where the ST's editor now lives?

Rod and Suzanne

Mr Lebedev goes up in my estimation. He is clearly a man of tremendous insight, of wisdom, of worldliness. My God, Geordie Greig was right about Lebby! The Guardian better be fucking right. Meantime, Alexander should consider Suzanne Moore for the Indy editorship - unusually, she combines a left-wing sensibility with haute personal style and grooming: she is well-shod proof that you can make a good living from the politics of selflessness.

And please, Alexander, abandon the idea of Jeremy Paxman. He wouldn't survive five minutes. Plus, he's molto sensitive.

Dan Farson exhibition: The late Soho and its bohemian habitués

Sailors in Fitzroy by Farson

The photographs of Francis Bacon's whipping boy, Dan Farson, can ve viewed and bought at Blacks Club at London's 67 Dean Street, W1, until March 12th. Don't miss the Private View on Feb 23, 6.30-8.30pm: at 7.15pm., there will be a brief talk by the artist, writer and Soho DJ (and my fiancée) Molly Parkin, and Soho based bespoke tailor Mark Powell (both pictured below by Benjamin Maggs, a Pisces), who is currently working on an outfit for the modfather himself, Paul Weller. They will talk about their Soho experiences past and present, and their memories of Dan Farson.

The flyer reads: "Through the lens of Dan Farson, Soho scenes and its bohemian habitués of the 1950's come to life. Several of the photographs are featured in the remarkable book by Farson Soho in the Fifties, with an introduction by jazz legend and author the late George Melly."

Apparently Farson was also a gifted writer and broadcaster. The first I heard of him was from the late Robert Tewdwr Moss who met him in a Syrian hotel in the mid-90s. Robert describes the encounters in his travel book Cleopatra's Wedding Present. From memory, Farson - drunken and shambolic by this time - took against him, launching into ferocious, froth-flecked tirades. Robert's crimes appeared to be that he was handsome, gay and sexually active. I can't recall if Robert actually names Farson in the book.

As I write I can't find my copy to check. Perhaps Farson's ghost has hidden it.

Farson's autobiography Never a Normal Man

Access Interviews - new improved (and free!) archive of celebrity chat

Do take a look at Access Interviews which has celebrated its 3rd birthday with a facelift. The site aggregates a vast number of celebrity interviews - including Madame Arcati's - from the world's media. And a new search box at the top allows you to hunt down your sleb quarry, accessing in effect a unique sprawling archive. Tap in Kevin Spacey and 8 items spring up - so much for Mr Elusive! Tap in Katie Price and 44 audiences with Her Brightonage instantly appear for hackish research purposes. Meryl Streep scores a modest 16 articles. Molly Parkin 4 (two of them mine). It's an invaluable, free resource. And how the fuck it's very smart creator Rob McGibbon makes any money from it is anyone's guess.

Interviewers (including blogs and other sites) should link their work on Access Interviews - it's a simple thing to do and opens up your profiles to a wider audience.

Access Interviews 10 most read star subjects of 2009 were:

1. Katie Price
2. Alistair Darling
3. Natascha Kampusch
4. Georgi Dochev
5. Ricky Gervais
6. Simon Cowell
7. Leonardo DiCaprio
8. Rupert Penry-Jones
9. Chesley Sullenberger
10. Jane Torvill and Christopher Dean

Ray Gosling - of course he must be tried and jailed

Ray Gosling

I hadn't thought of broadcaster Ray Gosling for about 20 years until he confessed on BBC's Inside Out that he had mercy killed his dying young lover. From the jumble of reports, I think Gosling has admitted to honouring a pact with his hospitalised unnamed partner and smothering him with a pillow to end his "terrible, terrible pain" from an Aids-related illness.

Nottinghamshire Police are investigating the matter. But since Gosling has announced he will not cooperate with the inquiry, I am pretty certain he won't be prosecuted. I can well imagine a disinclination to follow the trail that may implicate others in what will be framed in the media as an assisted suicide.

Well, you know my views on the matter. Even my fiancee Molly Parkin is appalled by my hostility to the death camp Dignitas in Switzerland. Gosling wanted to end his lover's pain. In truth he also wanted to end his own. Dignity in Dying is already using this story to push its soap operatic, death camp agenda. I already see the TV show: Live or Die: You Decide. The decider won't be the life in question, but the emoting of loved ones - anxious to end their own misery.

As I write, aiding or abetting another person's death is illegal in England and Wales under the 1961 Suicide Act, and is punishable by up to 14 years in jail. Gosling has freely made his confession. He should be arrested, tried amd jailed for murder or manslaughter. He'll have ample opportunity to emote in the dock and on the TV breakfast shows for a public sympathy reactively honed by the talent shows. And the atheistic libertarians who now write national newspaper editorials will have acres of space to call for the right to exterminate someone whose health condition is a thundering and expensive nuisance.

Prepare for a whole new area of litigation: Assisted Suicide - Or Convenience Killing?

Astrologers foresee a Tory victory - well, many of them do

Russell Grant: Tory win slim, Parliament well hung possibly

Diddums! The media Tory Boys are all depressed!

This loose amalgam of early middleaged, Oxbridge, cock-cunting, right-wing cat lovers - mainly subsidised by the Telegraph/Spectator club, with a blog thrown in to cover the winter gas bills - despairs at Gordon Brown's apparent resurgence in the polls and David Cameron's failure to impress. Why did anyone think that Old Etonian Cameron would ever mean much to scatterbrain Generation Google? His narrow aristocratic face alone looks bereft of 18th Century wig and gilded carved pine portrait frame - I hear a strain of Bach on harpsichord as I write - not a happy thought when there's news of National Health cuts to impart to porno'd-out plebs.

While the secular political pundits nonetheless expect Tory Boy to squeak into Number 10 in May, hobbled by a hung Parliament, what do the astrologers foresee? Your intrepid Madame - a trainee astrologer herself - had a perusal. To preserve your interest I have minimised the astro-jargon: just know there's a Saturn+Pluto (boo!)-Uranus+Jupiter (hooray!) tussle going on in the heavens.

Let's start with Russell Grant -"Will Labour retain power?" he asked himself at the Telegraph last year. "It is more likely to be a very narrow Conservative majority or a hung parliament."

"Quite definitively ... Labour will not win the next election," concludes the Brown-supporting Astrotabletalk. The site's astrologer Dharmaruci predicts in par 1 "it may be a hung Parliament." By par 11 however he's foreseeing "the Tories will probably win outright, rather than there being a hung Parliament." Ah, yes.

The august Marjorie Orr wrote of Gordon Brown in 2008: "He looks unlikely to emulate Tony Blair's three terms since his career and home life will go into major transformation gear in 2010. He's likely then or the following year to change career direction totally." So that's a Tory victory.

The Sun's Mystic Meg foresees a narrow Tory win - neatly echoing the current view of its owner Rupert Murdoch.

It's not all bad news for Gord. The unfortunately named The Daze thinks: "In 2010 Pluto starts to make a conjunction with Brown's natal MC, his progressed Moon is full in 2011 and in 2012 Neptune is conjunct his natal Sun. I wonder if these powerful astrological aspects do indeed suggest that Gordon Brown is with us in his high office for quite a few years to come." NB: for 2008, The Daze has Gordon misnamed George.

Astrology for the 21st Century foresees a likely Tory victory despite an astrologically low opinion of Cameron: "Leo-Libra mix is inclined to the self-satisfied, smug, and saccharine," it writes. "I don't see much good coming of him attaining power."

The Mail's Jonathan Cainer - rumoured to make over £1m pa from his phonelines - wrote of Brown in June last year, "Right now, his luck is on the wane, but while he won't bounce back to full popularity, his luck may just help him cling to office a bit longer, if he weathers these next few days." However, it was Cainer that predicted that Hillary Clinton would win the US election and that the global economic situation wouldn't be as bad as people expected.

New York's Caroline Simon (who predicted the economic crisis) of astrology website Blue Moon is doubtful of a Cameron premiership: "He can be too dependent on others’ approval and opinions to make his own decisions,” she adjudges. What else might Dave do in the event of a thrashing at the polls? "[He] could become adept at sculpture, pottery, carpentry or stained glass."

Even so, the majority view among astrologers is that Cameron will be the next PM by a slim margin. But the heavens do not exult.

Mark McGowan to risk death in Wootton Bassett

Will these Wootton Bassett burghers turn savage and rip poor lickle Mark to pieces in a zombie-like fit of frothing, tabloid-driven rage?

My dear remote friend Mark McGowan (how's sexy Bryn?) plans to crawl on his hands and knees through the touchy town of Wootton Bassett with a sign on his back which simply says, "SORRY". The event is planned for Sunday 21st February 2010 at 2pm.

The artist has previously completed many famous crawls including London to Canterbury. He also pushed a monkey nut with his nose for 7 miles to Downing Street.

He says, "This performance/art event is an attempt to say sorry for all the civillians that have been and that are being killed due to this country's foreign policy. Also, 'this is not a protest'."

I do hope Mark is not kicked to death by the flag-waving burghers of Wootton Bassett, egged on by circulation-chasing tabloids or the giggly presenters of the Today programme. That would be too distressing.