David Montgomery imposes "urinal cake" on Bristol

The morgue that is David Montgomery has resurrected himself with some hideous-sounding company called Local World which has somehow got its bony claws on loads of UK regional newspapers and websites. Its plan is to replace hacks and subs with content managers or skimmers of online content (aka plagiarists on the cheap) - and today, Local World closed Bristol ents site Venue. As a parting shot, its writers wrote the following (I've copied it because the site was not permitted to attain heritage status but was terminated instead - if this a copyright breach, someone contact me at Madamearcati69@aol.com):

Dear Local World,

So, here we are then. Friday 29 November 2013. Venue’s last day on Earth. Hours from being swept away as part of what you so dreamily term “the development of the what’s on module.” Sometime in December, we learn, venue.co.uk will re-emerge, like butterfly become grub, as www.bristolpostwhatson.co.uk. Because, heck, nothing answers “Hey, where to find what’s happening in town tonight?” quite so snappily as www.bristolpostwhatson.co.uk. Given a firm push, a downhill gradient and a stiff following wind, it just rolls off the tongue.

It may surprise you to learn we don’t necessarily have a problem with you closing the Venue website. Don’t get us wrong, it is curious timing. As you know, the most recent figures for daily page hits are: August - 44,162; September - 48,544; October - 55,824. Nevertheless, the two remaining of our number, working part-time on alternate weeks, would be the first to admit that Venue is a husk of its former self. Frankly, they’ll be glad to be put out of their misery. Where once they were part of a vast team of journalists delivering informed, first-hand comment from every last facet of city life, today our hapless duo struggle to do much more than pass on received opinion and rehash press releases. Naturally, we don’t have to explain this process to you, Local World, but we’re keenly aware that newcomers to the site might look at recent content and wonder at our concern.

We’ll come to that shortly, but, this being an open letter, a brief history lesson for the uninitiated (we’re being tactful here, Local World - we’re all too aware you haven’t got a fucking clue yourselves). Venue magazine began life in 1982, covering Bristol and Bath and surrounds, but swiftly fter 18 proudly independent years it was sold to Bristol United Press, owned by your predecessor, the Northcliffe Newspaper Group. Last year, having suffered death by a thousand cuts and a colourful assortment of full-frontal stabbings, the magazine was closed down. Today, it’s fallen to you, Local World, to apply the coup-de-graceless and bring down the final curtain on 31 years of work.

And hand it all over to the Post.

The Post, which decreed all street art as vandalism for years, and yet today, having so very belatedly recognised which way the wind is blowing, reaches for Banksy with the same onanistic lust the Express reserves for Diana.

We’re not going to claim we ever “championed” Banksy. We never really went in for “championing”. We simply covered everything we considered of value. So we might not have “championed” street art, but we did report t. Always. Even before 1985, the year of Arnolfini’s seminal ‘Graffiti Art’ exhibition, featuring work from the UK’s first wave of can-wielders. One of them was called 3D, or Robert Del Naja. He went on to co-found Massive Attack. We put Massive Attack on the cover before they’d even released a single.

Do you see what we’re driving at here? Have you any idea the number of wonderful bands, and theatre groups, and artists, and voluntary organisations, and filmmakers, and minority groups who had no voice anywhere else, at all, ever, and poets, and DJs, and on, and on, who claim inspiration from something they read in Venue? We make no assertions for the influence of our opinion; we simply did our level best to place a mirror in every last corner of Bristol, no matter how hidden, and allow the city to reflect back on itself.

And you want to hand over that legacy to a paper whose management - not journalists - are the precise equivalent of those radio stations which promise “your better music mix” and then put the same few songs on repeat. Which claim “the best new music” and fail to add “once it has charted and proved its popularity.” You want to hand over that legacy because, to quote from a staff email you neglected to send us, “The existing Venue website has really good functionality with a real blend of music reviews, listings, restaurant reviews etc, etc. This is a fantastic opportunity to grow our digital audience and a great platform to sell advertising on.”

Do you have any idea how much that hurts, Local World? Of course you don’t. You who boast all the cultural hinterland of a freshly discarded wet wipe. (Though you do have history, of course: born earlier this year, the helplessly stumbling result of a merger between Iliffe Media and Northcliffe, with a profit forecast of approximately £30 million - that debt-free dowry from the Daily Mail General Trust was a lovely gift, no? And they absolved you of responsibility for the deficit on that pesky old final salary pension scheme. Ah, Local World! You are to localism what urinal cake is to mountain freshness.)

And now you presume to inherit our work. We were writers, Local World, photographers, not “content providers”. We were bound together not only by our city, but by a love of language, of striking image. Our editors consistently backed our individual judgement and allowed us complete freedom of expression. As a result, Venue inspired a loyalty out of all proportion with the pittance it paid. Local World, we put our very heart and soul into our catalogue of work. And if you think you can now simply walk in and trample on its remains, then you can, with the very greatest lack of respect, fuck the fuck off.

Because we, the undersigned, do hereby assert our full rights under copyright law. It really would be for the best if you were take a moment to visit [page is no longer - MA] on the Venue website. Sit down, take a deep breath, and pause and reflect on this: “This website and its content is the copyright of the individual authors credited.” Please be assured we did not pull this phrase out of our collective arses, but out of legal statute. And if we perceive so much as a single full-stop, a solitary pixel of our work when your shameless hijacking is unveiled, then you in turn can expect to perceive a court summons. We are, to put it in terms you regularly use but cannot hope to understand, passionate about defending our legacy.

Sincerely,

Robin Askew
Lesley Barnes
Tony Benjamin
Melissa Blease
Anna Britten
Darryl Bullock
Charlotte Butterfield
Jay Chakravorty
Hannah Chapman
Matt Collins
Marc Crewe (deceased)*
Stephen Dalton
Ellen Doherty (deceased)*
Carl Dolan
Rebecca Ewing
Kristen Grayewski
Elfyn Griffith
Tom Hackett
Mike Harley
Steve Henwood
Gareth Jones
Nic Matthews
Tamar Newton
Huw Oliver
Julian Owen
Emma Parkinson
Kid Pensioner
Tom Phillips
Leah Pritchard
Pat Reid
Jo Renshaw
Andrew Rilstone
Stuart Roberts
Anna Rutherford
Mark Simmons
Delia Sparrow
Joe Spurgeon
John Stevens
Campbell Stevenson
Nick Talbot
Lou Trimby
Tom Wainwright
Cris Warren
Ben Welch
Kirsten Williams
Kate Withers
John Christopher Wood
Adam Workman
Steve D Wright
Nicola Yeeles

*Because if there is an afterlife, and we don’t add these enduringly lamented names to our treatise, we’ll never hear the end of it.

Madame Arcati books: Curtains and Lifesurfing

Something had to give, in this instance, you. I had to get my books done hence the blogging silence. And now they're out. The latest is my novel Curtains. I have already endured the drapes jokes. Free copies at Dunelm! Well, curtains certainly play an important part in my fiction, not least to expedite "those crucial eye journeys" good manners forbid us, as one of my characters puts it. Sharp-eyed readers will however discern other types of curtain.

Curtains is set in the world of high fashion mags, but it's not bitterly celebratory The Devil Wears Prada or ambivalent Glamorama. It's a slice of meringue with a crunchy satirical base and a heroine editor who starts fictive life by being blown up on a seaside pier with a fruit knife in her hand. How this pitiful fate befell her is the preoccupation of the story, a piecing together of a crazy puzzle whose pieces tend to melt at the edges. That's all I'm saying.

To find out more about Curtains, and what some critics have made of it to date, click here.

It's currently in paperback and kindle formats. Take your pick, poppets. And for a chance to win one of four copies up for grabs visit my friends at the Anorak news site. click here.

My other title is Lifesurfing: Your Horoscope Forecast Guide 2014 - the title says it all really. It debuted at No 1 in Amazon's astrology bestseller chart. It offers a monthly breakdown of your year ahead by star sign. An obvious stocking-filler - or a lovely gift to yourself. This too comes in paperback or kindle format - click here. 

With each purchase I'm offering a free intro birth chart analysis - with proof of purchase (I'll ask a very simple question). For this I'll need your date and location of birth as well as clock time if possible. Email: Volliver5@aol.com.

Curtains - a novel not quite like any other

My novel Curtains is out in early November, available only through Amazon in paperback and kindle formats.

A near-death fashion empress writes: 

"This much I recall: I was boarding the Brightworth Pier and I may have just said good evening to the tollgate master when the explosion occurred. In my right hand was the fruit knife with which I planned to end the life of Max Cochrane...."

Does the Daily Mail hate you?

Here's the definitive way of finding out. A simple, brief quiz. Click here.

Toby Young, Wikipedia and the 583 entry edits!

Toby Young

One of the tiresome chores of life is maintaining the polish on one's public profile. Don't I know it, poppets! If anyone doubts this, check out Toby Young's impressively anal attention to detail in his Wikipedia entry. Since January 2012 to the present (alone), he has made about 60 corrections, amendments and emendations. 

Some are perfectly understandable. On 28 August 2013, for instance, he added an apostrophe to Earl's Court. And on 27 April 2012, he deleted the word "stint" to avoid repetition. I like this. Editing is a much neglected art. Other edits suggest a dynamic growth in minor celebrity selfie-dom. On 2 August of this year he writes: "I deleted the ref to my father cos it implies I was the beneficiary of nepotism which I wasn't. The admissions tutor later told me that Brasenose were legally obliged to honour the mistaken offer. Nowt to do with my dad."

My favourite, of 25 March 2013, reads: "I deleted the last line as it was clearly inserted by a political enemy. I write six or seven pieces a week. Why single this one out?"

One or two may be of interest to any future biographer of this titan of bloggers, commentators and things called free schools: "I corrected 'brief time at Cambridge' to 'two years at Cambridge' and deleted 'early stages' since, in fact, I abandoned my doctorate after two years."

The entries go back quite some way. 14 July 2009 offers a glimpse of a fast-changing journalistic life: "I've updated a few career details. I no longer write a column for the Standard and now write a restaurant column for the Independent on Sunday. How do I change the summary at the top?" In November 2009, he excelled himself with 19 revisions.

Not all the interventions are Toby's by any means. But here are some fascinating stats:

Total number of revisions: 583 (since 2004)

Average number of edits per year: 64.11

Number of edits in last year: 98

Number of users: 215 (!)

This last figure is testament to Toby's interest value to embryonic biographers - some among these "users" will have probably inserted a few of the "facts" he has had to correct. However the top user is... Toby Young! He has made 194 edits since 2007. The average time between his edits is: 1 week, 5 days, 4 hours, 44 minutes, 32 seconds.

Frankly, I'm impressed. How does this delightful Libran find the time?

Toby's Wikipedia entry, click here. Stats obtained via the "view history" link

Roger Lewis: 'What do you think of my son Oscar's movie?'

I love this highly original, dreamy short film by Oscar Lewis - son of Seasonal Suicide Notes author and Daily Mail book reviewer Roger Lewis. Titled "John and Iris", it brings to life, in animated line drawings, the reminiscences of his grandparents (John and Iris Dickens) on 65-plus years together. Roger tells me: "Oscar has been working as Tom Hollander's production assistant on a film about Dylan Thomas, A Poet in New York, which is being shot on location in Cardiff. Now one of the reasons why I left South Wales for good as a youngster is that it wasn't in any shape or form Manhattan."

Cops seize Putin/Obama cock painting ahead of G20 summit

Vera Donskaya-Khilko's Wrestling

Russia's descent into homophobic fantasy finds many different forms, the latest being the police seizure of this painting from an erotic museum in St Petersburg. Artist Vera Donskaya-Khilko's Wrestling depicts Putin and Obama engaged in a manly preening battle of exaggerated phalli - actually, just about everything in the work boasts an oversized cock or is an oversized cock. According to The Art Newspaper (click link for full story), the police raid occurred ahead of the recent G20 summit - which sounds a good excuse to remove from sight anything that does not meet with the approval of the ludicrous muscle Mary presently running Russia.

On the other hand, Blogger, run by Google, does not like depictions of cock either. So, choose your favourite censor.

Duncan Fallowell and his Platinum Peepshow movie

Which reminds me, I must make some videos to promote moi. Meanwhile, Libran Arcatiste Duncan Fallowell (or Lad F, as I may start to call him) has posted this self-advertisement on YouTube for his upcoming Platinum Peepshow - described in his Wikipedia entry as "a second collection of profiles and commentaries...on the subject of art, fashion and entertainment."

The Peepshow vid washes the brain with images galore pertinent to Lad F's slebby career encounters and cultural interests. Gilbert & George, Lulu (I think), Bowie, royalty, bloody-nosed Jay Kay and all sorts of other whatsname detrital meme resonances. Warhol would have loved it - especially the monotonous electronic drum beat.

I really do think it's time BBC4 commissioned a special fly-on-the-wall portrait of Duncan - of two hours duration at least! It would have to involve some sort of journey - Brecqhou perhaps or a return to Gozo (actually, Venice would be perfection - a major assault on brochure dreams by a jealous lover, Lad F himself). In his youthful dotage, DF finally has proper, grown-up recognition (having won the prestigious, literary PEN/Ackerley Prize last year for How to Disappear: A Memoir for Misfits - now out in paperback, Kindle and other formats) and his worldly drawl would snap up new fans in an instant. 

Anyway, watch the video - it's just a minute or two long.

PayPal - still stuck in the Diamond Jubilee

Paypal invites me to learn about attracting more customers from Europe - the link takes me to an article which begins, bang on the moment: "2012 is a huge year for the UK with the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games taking place over the next few months. Both events are expected to bring millions of visitors to the UK, along with billions more TV viewers." 

How could I have missed it all?

Will US strike Syria? I look at the astrology

A number of you have emailed me about the astrology of the US/Syria situation. Will the US attack? Astrology is not about inevitabilities but trends and likelihoods. So here’s my analysis in plain English – with footnotes for fellow astrologers.

In the week of September 9, the US Congress will be asked to back President Obama’s proposed military action against Syria. I have chosen September 9th for this forecast because this marks the first day of the US government’s debate. I looked at three natal-transits charts: Syria’s, the US’s and Obama’s. All three charts suggest a likelihood of US military action against Syria.

Syria (1 January 1944, midnight, Damascus)

On the 9^th, violent and disruptive energies are present.[1] Actions decided on between September 9 and 11[2] will have the quality of violence with a transformative effect – whether this happens days or weeks or months later. The action is aimed squarely at the governing power[3]. At the same time, there is a major indication that power is exerted over the governing authority in some shape or form – and this indicator remains valid to October 29[4]: it therefore may be the case that Syria is subjected to external attack by a foreign state – this is one of a number of possible scenarios. The Syrian government is nonetheless confident, even smug – this could be because of perceived successes or misjudgement – or a miscalculation.[5]

US (4 July 1776, 5:10 pm, Philadelphia)

On and around the 9^th, the US chart reflects an instinct to act on high principle[6]. There’s a sense of ‘social duty’ and of public/media debate involving government.[7] And there’s a high likelihood of a decision to take military action.[8] The focus of this action is another country (or ‘abroad’).[9] From September 16, the risk of military action increases.[10] However the legality or constitutional justification appears confused.[11] If the congressional debate is not finalised before September 13 (Friday), there’s a chance the US will decide against war.[12] So, Obama is less likely to win support the later in the week a congressional decision is made.

Obama (4 August 1961, 7:24 pm, Honolulu)
On or around the 9^th, Obama is under tremendous strain and possible criticism. Actions can be thwarted or questioned – some sort of deception cannot be ruled out.[13] But by the next week, the 16^th onwards, Obama appears to be in much more energised form – the planets support a war-like identity in this time.[14] The weekend of September 14-15 also could be crucial for decisions related to military action.[15]

For Obama the challenge is to make real a principle or ‘dream’.[16] At worst, there is likely to be confusion between fact and fantasy and the challenge to make clear what is murky or concealed. At best, law and clarity can be applied to an area of chaos – the area identified as foreign by house position.[17] However, the triggering of a chaotic indicator in the chart is an unfortunate development, suggesting a debilitating period ahead for Obama, especially if he’s acting on misinformation or against government wishes.[18]

What can't be ruled out is that Obama launches a military strike against Syria without Congress' approval.

---

[1] Tr Mars conjunct natal Pluto in Leo in 10^th

[2] Above conjunction in orb

[3] 10^th house

[4] Tr Pluto conjunct natal Sun in Capricorn in 3^rd

[5] Tr Jupiter conjunct natal MC in 10^th

[6] Tr Mars in Leo on natal True Node in Leo

[7] Tr Mercury conjunct Midheaven

[8] Tr Mars sextile natal Uranus

[9] Natal Uranus on descendant

[10] Tr Mars ingresses 9^th house (Equal House)

[11] Tr Saturn inconjunct natal Uranus

[12] Tr Sun conjunct Neptune in 10^th (Sept 14-16)

[13] Tr Mars square natal Neptune

[14] Tr Mars conjunct Sun

[15] Tr Sun conjunct natal Mars

[16] Tr Saturn conjunct Neptune in 9^th

[17] 9^th

[18] Natal Neptune in 9^th

Liz Jones 'airbrushed' out of Marie Claire's history: tsk

Liz Jones

Now that Liz Jones is my fiancee - this may be news to her, but that's none of her business - I have to communicate my distress over Marie Claire's treatment of its former editor. Today, in the Mail on Sunday, she tells her followers that the magazine has 'airbrushed' her 'into oblivion... Stalin fashion'. Its UK quarter-century birthday issue fails to make any mention of her in a piece about its 'powerhouse' past editors, starting with Glenda Bailey, who once helped raise sales with a supplement featuring hundreds of disembodied penises. 

Liz writes:

'Makes you wonder what other hard facts of life have been erased in this strange celebration of the magazine’s championing of ‘real women’... I despair that the current incumbent as editor, Trish Halpin, didn’t have the balls to explain her decision to airbrush her magazine’s history. Can we ever believe a word she says again.' 

Apparently, Liz had been booked to do an interview for the celebratory piece. But then she blew it with the serialisation of her memoir in the Mail which made claims of Marie Claire's less than admirable commitment to staffers who take maternity leave, among other things. On the day the serialisation appeared, Liz received an email from the magazine: the editor and art 'director' had 'rethought' the feature and wouldn't be going ahead - but any travel expenses would be reimbursed.

This is no way to treat a high profile former editor who was always going to amplify a slight via the good offices of Britain's leading Middle England newspaper. What was Trish thinking? Trish, I see, is on Twitter but has yet to tweet anything to her 1500+ followers. I really don't see the point of tweetless Twitter accounts. Do you? Such silence is the media equivalent of celibacy and should not be encouraged. Look what celibacy turned Catholic priests into.

I know from bitter experience that glossy magazines find it hard to cope with contention. But a magazine that can deify cock should surely be able to embrace Liz.

Review: The Mitford Girls' Guide to Life by Lyndsy Spence

Quite the most delightful book release of the season is Lyndsy Spence's The Mitford Girls' Guide to Life. Each afternoon these past few days, at around three, I revived the gilt-rimmed bone china, poured Darjeeling (lemon no milk), nibbled digestives (but no dunking) - a faintly-quaintly sensurround of this kind is recommended for added enjoyment of the book - and lapped up the wisdom filleted from the extraordinary lives of the six aristocratic sisters, aka the Mitford Girls.

As 4,000 One Direction fans fill Leicester Square (as I write) for the boy band's film premier, what could these poor screaming wretches learn, say, from the chapter, Fan Devotion: A Cautionary Tale? Unity Mitford's adoration of Hitler provides the lesson. 'When one sits behind him,' she noted of Hitler, 'it's like sitting beside the sun. He gives out rays or something.' To fanatical Directioners - as One Direction fans are termed - Spence might offer this advice, based on Unity's sly stalking of the Führer: 'Don't rush head first into an encounter with your idol as this will label you as another fan. Edge your way in slowly and discreetly.' 

Play your cards right and you, too, could end up as Mrs Harry Styles.

There is no end of advice on all range of activity. Letter-writing the Mitford way? 'If you are sick, make a conscious effort to bake the letter in the oven as this will kill any lingering germs.' However, 'if you dislike the person you are writing to, by all means feel free to send the germs as well as your love.'

And should you desire to run away, as Leftie Jessica did, this nugget shines among many others: 'Open a bank account as soon as possible.'

Prepare to enter a world with its own language. 'Farve' and 'Muv' are translatable - Farve, by the way, could not abide jam running down the side of the jar. 'Wondair' is rather baffling. Does it mean 'wonderful'? Well you'll have to read the book. There are 'Hons' and 'Counter-Hons'. Beyond the cod advice, Spence immerses us in Mitford miscellanea. Muv, for instance, is buried unembalmed in Swinbrook, Oxfordshire. Not wondair!

This is a clever book indeed. Its self-help pose could herald the start of a whole series of books which turn celebrity lives into bullet-pointed parables, without the tiresome linear corset of traditional biography, birth to death to seance. At the same time, this new tribute genre permits author and reader a good biscuity wallow in the adored life. Fact and goss are savoured, played with, re-presented. If I didn't know better, I would say Lyndsy Spence - who bears an uncanny resemblance to Katie McGrath's Morgana in BBC series Merlin - must be some kind of benign stalker, the fan who will not boil the bunny, drawn to glamorous enclaves for a painless poke around.

The Mitford Girls' Guide to Life tickled me from start to end. And Madame is not easily tickled.

The Mitford Girls' Guide to Life can be bought here.

Madame Arcati's interview with Lyndsy Spence, here.