JoeBusiness ::: ‘For Some Reason Men Are Upset’

Helen Flanagan FHM

Sorry, no JoeBusiness last week as I was working in Switzerland, scoffing chocolate, buying clocks and trying to remain as neutral as possible. This week however, I was lucky enough to cover the FHM 100 Sexiest Women in the World Party, where I was set the challenge of asking all the beautiful attendees on a date and seeing how many said ‘Yes’… I know, shit job right? The result was actually overwhelmingly favourable (I assume the boozer round the corner must’ve been plying the famous babes with liquor beforehand) and you can see a little highlights package here.

What struck me however, was the level of debate that ensued upon the list becoming coming public knowledge, especially directed towards I’m a Celebrity star Helen Flanagan. The former Corrie actress placed third in the list, behind Rihanna and Mila Kunis, who came second and first respectively, making her the highest place Brit. I asked Helen what it was like to receive such an honour and we had a typically confusing interview but what’s more interesting is the fact that a lot of people took such umbrage at the results. As telly host and newly-minted head of the Irish Mafia Laura Whitmore pointed out, ‘It’s a bit of fun and I can tell the grandkids when I’m old and wrinkly, “Granny one day, someone thought was sexy”.’… They certainly did Laura… Anyway, as always with these things, Twitter was the best parade ground of overreaction and hyperbole and here are some choice quotes summing up reaction to the List:

@TonyDortie humorously quipped: ‘Helen Flanagan came first in the FHM 100 sexiest women in the world list….I’m guessing FHM is now printed in #Braille.’ LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL … Tony you jester.

While the charming @muller7uk understatedly wrote: ‘You could read into the #fhm100sexiest list, but seeing as the ugly idiot trollop Helen Flanagan is probably on there, renders it pointless.’ Clearly an Eastenders fan.

The brilliantly named @sausagemonkey64 declared: ‘The FHM 100 sexiest list is proper mental!!! Cher Lloyd’s in it!!! So’s Linda Barker!!!!’ Linda Barker was among a number of ‘surprise’ entries, another was BBC News Presenter Susanna Reid, who’s brightened up many a dreary morning as I shovel down muesli. Sadly TV’s ultimate Cougar, Julia Bradbury, missed out. Prompting the following Tweet from me after several used tissues and a bottle of gin: ‘No @JuliaBradbury in Sexy List! I kill you FHM you pig bummers!’ … Not really but it would’ve fitted in with the general content and artistic flair of most comments.

I’m just not sure why people care so much. If you disagree, just think that in your brain and carrying on eating your Pot Noodle. It’s not like that list is the limit of women in the world and if the lady you particularly admire isn’t on there, you’ll never be able to see an image of her again. I don’t think this kind of survey is just titillation for men, we think about naked women all on our own so actual sexy girls in skimpy dresses is a bit of down time for us, and it’s not a comment on anyone’s work or talent so directly attacking people and their places in a list of ‘sexiness’ is to attack the way they look which is just plain mean. Do you really reckon that by defending Michelle Keegan’s honour she’s going to ditch a confused and gormless Mark Wright and be waiting in your bedroom when you get home from work with nought but a skimpy negligée, an industrial-sized vat of lube and a kebab and cheesy chips for after? Exactly, so don’t worry about it mate and just do what I do and think about sexy ladies in your head, it’s fun.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 5th May 2013


JoeBusiness ::: Celeb Meltdowns, Hungry Footballers And Big Birds In Strip Clubs

Lindsay Lohan jail

It’s been a great week for the celeb meltdown, they always are but this week especially, was a corker. Tara Reid (her off American Pie and other things that escape me presently) is alleged to have abused staff in an LA All Saints store when they questioned her right to a discount the insubordinate serfs! Not only that but last Friday angelic Hollywood Barbie Doll Reese Witherspoon was nicked after a drunken barney with a policeman who pulled her and her inebriated husband (who was driving) over in Atlanta. Reese got seriously miffed with the officer and refused to believe he was a real policeman, presumably imagining Ashton Kutcher was waiting somewhere in the undergrowth, sadly for Reese he wasn’t and her and hubby were promptly escorted to the slammer, from whence they were bailed shortly after. Finally, footballer Luis Suarez of Liverpool bit (yes, like actually bit) opponent Branislav Ivanovic when his side played Chelsea on Sunday, not exactly showbiz I know but another fine example of someone in the limelight behaving like a loon.

I’ve written at length about the dearth of personality in modern popular culture, music especially and I never understand why news of stars’ bad behaviour are accompanied by headlines denouncing their antics because, let’s face it, we all love it. Whether it be Harry Styles’ ravenous libido, Lindsey Lohan scrapping in a bar or Justin Bieber having to explain to humourless (needless cultural stereotyping on my part but it’s a better image) German customs officers just what on earth he’s doing with a monkey and no relevant paperwork on a plane, we all get squirmy with anticipation when celebs do something stupid. It’s the bread and butter of entertainment journalism: boobs, romance and meltdowns. Without these things we’d have nothing to write or talk about and would all be out of the job and let’s face it, viewing figures would plummet because the soap opera surrounding the rich and famous is as entertaining as their work and in the case of several mind-numbing figures in the public eye, a lot more fun.

I watched Match of the Day last night and pundit Alan Hansen was apoplectic with rage at the behaviour of Suarez deciding to chew on an opponent’s tasty looking arm during a match but really, I mean really would they rather every game went off without a hitch? It gives them and everyone else something to talk about. There would be no TOWIE, no Perez Hilton (now hang on that’s an idea) and Kim Kardashian would have no career if famous folk didn’t put their foot in it, or their teeth in it, or something else in… you get the picture.  Many the average performer would have been relegated to History’s cutting room floor but no, because they like a tantrum, a drink and the occasional Playboy Bunny; Tara Reid, Lindsey Lohan and Charlie Sheen are all still with us! You don’t reminisce about nights out with your pal Geoff, the one who had half a lager and then whipped up a stunning Quiche Lorraine for all the lads, you talk about Geoff who got his little corporal stuck in the till at Wetherspoon’s  when apprehended by a distinctly unimpressed barmaid as he tried to nab free Jager Bombs for the boys while inexplicably trouserless. Our attitude towards celebrities and popular culture is the same.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone biting people or truly reprehensible behaviour but there are levels of depravity and I’m a firm believer that wild sex romps, crazy drunken binges and the odd exotic pet make celebs more interesting and more human, as you can see an aspect of what we all might be capable of. They’re millionaires, everyone’s always telling them they’re great despite glaring character flaws and an often obvious lack of discernible talent and they’ve lost all normal perspective so hell yeah, who wouldn’t want to steal an Ostrich and ride it directly to Stringfellows? And when it happens, I for one want to read about it.

JoeBusiness ::: Fanning The Flames Of Unnerving Adoration

Peter Andre

I witnessed something rather alarming this week, the ‘super fan’. The super fan isn’t like Superman or even Superted, it’s a type of person rather than an individual, although there is a particular fan I’ll focus on here who encapsulates the key ingredients of the super fan. I was at the Asian Awards, where the notable attendees were (among others) Sir Ben Kingsley, Sway and one Peter Andre. I’d seen the provisional list, as press do before, and knew Peter was in attendance but it wouldn’t have taken me long to work it out as one young lady soon approached my colleague and I at the barrier next to the red carpet  and unleashed a potted history of her adoration for and ‘relationship’ with Peter Andre. We were told numerous times how she’d been pictured with him in Heat and Star magazines, how he’d asked her if she wanted to date his manager, which this unusual individual interpreted as Peter’s playing hard to get, and finally how ‘You watch, when he comes he’ll recognise me.’ And recognise her he did, in much the same way that I’m sure that girl who’s rescued from the pit at the end of Silence of the Lambs would surely recognise her erstwhile captor, the serial killer Buffalo Bill. She asked to borrow both of mine and my colleague’s phones (a request we declined) and when she finally got her mits on the mobile of another unsuspecting journalist, she showed us the pictures of her and Pete in question, which were essentially her molesting the startled Aussie hunk. Also, rather concerningly, she had a rolled up newspaper that she assured us she would strike Pete’s girlfriend over the bounce with were he to show up accompanied by her.

During this wait for the guests to arrive a fight broke out between two fans, actual fisticuffs, something I’ve never seen before and when they did start to arrive one diminutive gentleman in a wooly hat and thick glasses, he looked rather like Urkel from much-loved US comedy series Family Matters (just check out the pic, he’s a legend… this lookalike wasn’t), threatened to attack the camera crew next to us for blocking his view. Anyway, then Pete arrives and our heroine, who I’d also like to point out had no shoes on (not sure why but it was the least of her worries) goes ape shit. She charged at Pete as he got out of his car, breaching security and Pete’s entourage and leaping on him like a sexually-charged limpet. She was eventually prized off but proceeded to break through yet more security (these guys really didn’t have a clue) and spent my entire interview with Pete, including an extensive section where he spoke touchingly about his brother (who recently lost a lengthy battle to cancer) and the work that experience has inspired him to do to make sure other men and other families don’t suffer the same fate, holding the by now rather fragile-looking man’s hand, with Andre even having to stop at one point where he looked at me rather bewildered and simply uttered: ‘Someone’s holding my hand.’… He looked like a frightened man.

When we finished our chat the celeb-loving dervish begged him for a kiss, ‘On the cheek?’ He suggested hopefully.

‘On the mouth.’ She stubbornly demanded. Pete went for a peck on the cheek but as she was so incredibly heavy-handed with him as she tried to force him towards her lips he wriggled free and made his escape pursued by her lament of ‘Ok on the mooouuuuttthh, on the mooouuutttthhh.’

I see fans, often people genuinely obsessed with their idols, every day in my job and most of them are benevolent devotees. They’re the hardcore that are responsible for propping up the careers of those in every aspect of entertainment while comparatively the rest of us are really just ‘enthusiasts’. These are decent, normal people who just really like someone or something. I really like Tottenham Hotspur, I was speechless when I met former club captain Ledley King so believe me, I get it. It’s the people who are utterly detached from reality who concern me. The lady mentioned above genuinely believed that she and Peter Andre had a close relationship, fraught with sexual frisson and he was giving her covert signals that he wanted to run away with her. To the rest of us she looked like a loon pursuing a rather uncomfortable but always gracious celebrity in an incredibly forceful way but to her it was part of their courting ritual. These people always seem slightly manic and unhinged in conversation as well and I am concerned about the mental state of these individuals whose interpretation of events is so detached from reality and wonder what deeper malaise lies beneath. In the case of those who become violent, I simply cannot understand how they are so able to lose perspective and that they put enough significance on situations that, let’s face it, ain’t that important. I can’t help but ponder what they’re lives are like away from the red carpet. I’ve questioned the slavish devotion elicited by franchises such as Twilight before but when fandom makes me concerned for the safety of myself and those around me, not to mention poor, scared Peter Andre then suddenly it’s a whole different problem. That being said, if I saw Michael Dawson walking down the street and some prick tried to stop me rubbing my urgent flesh on his, I’d nut ‘em.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 18th April 2013

JoeBusiness ::: The End Of An Era But We’re Fighting On The Streets Again

Baroness Thatcher death

Margaret Thatcher died this week. And some people had parties. That doesn’t seem right to me. I am aware of Thatcher’s reputation as the ogre of the right in British politics and while not knowing a great deal about her or her policies (I know enough to where I stand), my opinion of her was always, frankly, low. My political views always drift to the left and often to near-socialism – that being said I am incredibly vain and love cash, glamour and all the fleeting trappings of the entertainment business so I guess I’m one of these annoying little turds that claims to be a righteous lefty but maybe am about as close to Che Guevara as Donald Trump masturbating into a pile of dollar bills, anyway I know enough about Thatcher to know that many, especially those in the industrial north, have genuine and legitimate grievances against her and her policy-making.


My point however, is that it’s almost always wrong to celebrate someone’s death. There are some cases when it’s ok. For example when, deep beneath a ruined Berlin and the tramping of Red Army boots, Hitler bit down on a cyanide capsule at the same time as firing a pistol into his brain, hence ending any lingering German desire to prolong a war (that he started) that claimed 55 million lives not to mention removing from existence a soul who’s entire emotional and intellectual outlook had been based on hatred, then yes, the world became a better place. But Thatcher wasn’t Hitler. I don’t believe in the term ‘Don’t speak ill of the dead’. If we did that we’d have no history as we’d constantly say be saying how Grrrrrreatttt everyone was and just because someone dies doesn’t mean you have to change the opinion you had of them while they were alive.


So if you didn’t like Thatcher in life, then that opinion remains the same. However, to actually celebrate someone’s death feels like the height of bad taste. An 87 year old lady dying after a stroke has no impact on your life. Feel free to continue disapproving, disliking or even hating what she did in life but now she’s dead don’t your celebrations feel a little empty not to mention ‘wrong’? The problem is there are grieving family and friends left behind and how do you think they feel when they switch on the telly, see shots of the Ritzy Picture House in Brixton with the official news reading ‘Margaret Thatcher is Dead’ and underneath a hastily constructed homemade banner bearing the legend ‘The bitch is dead’ while people dance in the streets in front of it? Those family and friends didn’t create her policies. They didn’t take your milk or send soldiers to the Falklands so why don’t you show those grieving for her the respect that you felt she denied you and many others in life? No matter what terms you couch it in, whether it means that’s the ultimate victory and shows that deep down you’re better than the Tory governments you so hated or simply you believe it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it better than throwing a party because someone’s no longer alive?


Many politicians have left a mixed legacy and Monday’s events made me wonder what fate awaits the demise of Blair and George W. Bush, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was nary a piece of agitation on the streets when these two men who contrived one of the most controversial wars in recent history pass away. Despite my empty respect for shiny showbiz baubles I am deep-down and inexorably a lefty and had I lived in Thatcher’s Britain I believe I would have openly disdained her and her government but I also genuinely believe I’d have kept the bunting in the loft yesterday. What do scenes of violence and destruction on the streets of Brixton and Glasgow achieve but to drive yet another divisive wedge between two ends of the political spectrum that had gone some way towards healing the old wounds and prejudices exacerbated during the Thatcher era? And what’s to be gained by celebrating the passing of someone you thought of as ‘bad’, apart from to make you a little bit worse too?


Bit serious this week I know and not exactly ‘showbiz’ but I was struck by something I dearly wanted to write about and often it’s best to go with this instinct but never fear back to tits, Taylor Swift and TOWIE next week.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 11th April 2013

JoeBusiness ::: Fighting Your Mum, Boob Tattoos And Sticking Up For Bieber

Justin Bieber, monkey

Isn’t Lindsay Lohan great? Why’s everyone always having a go at her? LiLo’s latest escapade has seen her photographed slumped drunkenly under a table in a Rio nightclub during a publicity trip to Brazil. The thing is we: the media, the public, the people who rant about them, love ‘out of control’ stars. Ok I accept there are those who take it too far and these are the real addicts. Amy Winehouse and to a lesser extent Pete Doherty are among a few who represent a tragic waste of potential and in the worst cases, life. I’m not saying Amy’s musical legacy isn’t extraordinary but who knows what else she would have achieved had she been free from the demons of addiction and self-destruction, and not least a young woman would still be alive. However, these tragic cases are not what I’m talking about. The people I’m talking about are the candyfloss rock stars who do what so many of us would do when given extraordinary riches, fame and undue deference at a young age and that’s go a little bit mental.

I don’t know why when Keith Richards gets wasted (for 50 years!) it’s cool but when Lindsay does it, it’s disappointing. Ok so getting in your car when pissed isn’t cool and Lohan, as does anyone else who’s done it, needs to stop it but you don’t need me to tell you that. But being pissed under a table, anyone who hasn’t done that has clearly never drunk gin; fighting over a boyband member in a bar makes you a boozy legend and having a punch up with your Mum… What a Spartan! She even Tweeted on April 1st that she was pregnant – prompting near orgasms from hacks everywhere but it was an April Fools ruse that show’s, whether consciously or not, LiLo is aware of the hypocrisy of which she’s a part.

Another example is One Direction’s Harry Styles, who’s penchant for tattoos and sleeping with lots and lots of attractive women is apparently a worrying trend in his lifestyle. Ummmm he’s 19 and millions of women all over the world would gladly give up a limb for a glimpse of his left nut so if I were Hazza I’d be out getting a giant tattoo of a pair of tits across my back bearing the legend: I’ve see more than you!’ and then having an orgy to celebrate. Even Simon Cowell, a man who’s wealth and the glamour surrounding him don’t detract from the fact that he’s far too uncool to ever act like a rock star, has come out in the press and said he would act the same if he was in 1D’s position, so let’s just get behind Harry as he gets behind some groupies.

Part of the reason that we frown upon the decadent antics of those in the public eye is envy. I admit, many’s the time I’ve seen a snap of Harry, or some other hunky little twerp, surrounded by a harem of attractive and more importantly ravenously keen young ladies and thought: ‘For fucks sake!’ And so redoubled my efforts to find some sordid grainy video and then had to pop the kettle on as I wait for it to buffer. But I’ve realised why should these young stars give a shit? It’s not their fault that we’re jealous so crack on I say lad and do it for Blighty!

Another issue is that in a world of plastic pop stars and coma-inducing actors it’s nice to have some personality and see people acting in a recognisably human way. Even Justin Bieber, who I had pegged as a grinning little gimp, has recently been eliciting my admiration now that he’s fighting paparazzi, attacking his neighbours (allegedly) and participating in failed attempts to smuggle monkeys into Germany (not a euphemism, check this out).

There are no real rock stars left and the behaviour of these young stars is not only completely understandable but makes them more human and more interesting. So yeah it’s annoying but the point is who would you rather hang out with, Taylor Swift and talk about boys or Lindsay Lohan and get in a drunken brawl with a group of circus midgets? And what would you rather do, sit around the hotel room with the other four out of One Direction or hit The Bearded Oyster with a pocketful of notes and your man Harry Styles?… I know where I’d rather be.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 4th April 2013

JoeBusiness ::: Presenting: The Amateurish Future Of Television

Mark Wright TMO

Something alarming happened while I was watching Lorraine this week, something I do every morning as one of the idiosyncrasies of my job is that I work almost exclusively in the evenings and hence one becomes quite the daytime TV afficionado and Lorraine, incidentally, is a cracking watch. I was tucking into my boiled eggs and soldiers, I have a variation of this every morning – sometimes poached, sometimes scrambled, often featuring mushrooms… my life is very much like the early days of Motley Crue I know, eating a variety of egg and bread based breakfasts is in fact the modern equivalent of doing a line of coke off a groupie’s bare bottom. Anyway I was watching Lorraine and thoroughly enjoying Ross King’s showbiz report (my favourite part of the show) when they showed some clips of Tom Daley (the Disney Prince-faced diver) and Ross informed us he has a ‘big presenting career’ ahead of him.

Now I’m sure Tom Daley’s a nice lad and a bloody fine diver and may even make a good presenter but this does rile me. It’s part of a recent trend of people ‘off the telly’ being allowed to present high-profile and lucrative gigs. Daley did Splash! (fair enough) but that was widely deemed to be the among the worst shows ever to grace our increasingly dire television schedules and hence TD should never be allowed to present anything that’s not directly related to diving. I feel the same about Mark Wright presenting Take Me Out: The Gossip. Again, I’m sure he’s a perfectly affable chap and I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s talentless but a presenter he ain’t. I was once sitting in a major agent’s office when I pointed out that I thought Mark Wright was ‘one of the worst presenters I’ve ever seen’ and the agent promptly turned to me and said with a flourish of conviction ‘He’s the worst anyone’s ever seen!’. Even worse, Gemma off TOWIE doing the fashion segment on This Morning, I mean piss off universe!

The reason this cheeses me off so much and I know I’m not the only presenter who feels like this, is that these people haven’t had to pay their dues. A lot of presenters are qualified journalists, with finely honed skills of research, written and verbal dexterity and a nose for a story. Many others (myself included) have clawed their way up through a torrent of shit, making bugger-all money, chatting to abject bell ends and standing in the pissing rain on red carpets for hundreds of hours, often to get a 30 second conversation with someone who thinks you’re a dick anyway. So obviously, when you do your first big interview with a huge star or get to work for a worldwide media outlet, you’re justly proud. But then you open the paper and see Mark Wright gets to go out with Michelle Keegan and you feel a bit miffed, then you turn on the telly and there’s a random woman from Essex telling you what brogues are ‘in’ this winter and your weary eyes illicit a lonely tear, so you change the channel and there’s Gaz out of Geordie Shore presenting The Weakest Link and you’re fucking head explodes! Ok s that one’s not happened yet but sadly it wouldn’t surprise me at all.

I don’t hold anything against these people personally. Tom Daley seems like a good bloke and a respected athlete but why does he get to go to Hollywood and try and bamboozle sorority girls into bed while I’m counting out the dosh for my Child Travelcard to go and interview someone I’ve never heard of? Same with the Reality-TV-Drama-Soap-Brainmush stars. If they want to bear their souls to the world so some fat geezer with a roll-up hanging out his gob will want to take their photo outside a tacky nightclub then good luck to them but they’re not journalists!

If this article sounds bitter it’s because it is but it’s also resigned to a world where arbitrary fame itself justifies skipping numerous steps on a slippery career ladder, where in order to be good enough to progress you have to experience each level and it doesn’t feel fair. The respect for fame without achievement is a theme I have consistently returned to in JoeBusiness and more than my own personal foibles I think it’s a worrying and unhealthy societal trend. What’s next, you go in to have your emergency triple bypass and as the doctors remove their surgical masks, to explain this life-threatening and miraculous procedure you realise the faces leering down at you are Arg, Diags and Joey Essex, because the hospital’s having a ‘Scars from the Stars’ day?

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 31st March 2013

The Buzz Of Breaking News And Why To Watch The PM Around Your Pets

Benedict Cumberbatch

I ‘broke’ my first news story this week. In my line of work, chatting to celebrities and doing my best to stay on top of Harry Styles penile activity… hang on, I don’t get to ‘break’ many stories in the conventional sense of ‘Hold the front page Hank, this one’s big!’ I am often among the first to find out exciting information from someone about a secretive new project, or who they’ll be working with or whatever it may be but what happened this week was different.


The story is, in the taxi coming from doing the backstage interviews at the Southbank Sky Arts Awards, I tweeted:


‘Benedict Cumberbatch confirms to @RedCarpetNewsTV that cast already signed on for 4th season of #Sherlock … Video released this evening!’


And Twitter went bat shit. Now this is all relative and fairly small potatoes to what major political journalists must experience on a regular basis but I was party to a reaction I’ve never witnessed before. Within hours there were nearly 500 ‘Retweets’ and 200 ‘Favourites’ and my followers jumped by 25%. There are a few reasons for this and they are firstly, Cumbers rarely does press and if he does he’s famous among presenters as being erudite, pithy and incredibly elusive about anything that could be a ‘story’. Secondly, he is involved with two franchises, Star Trek and Sherlock, that have… ahem… incredibly ‘dedicated’ fans with a voracious appetite for news. Check out this story in the Telegraph incidentally. I did a full interview with him as well as the snippet described above and I must say he’s comfortably the most articulate and intimidatingly intelligent person I’ve interviewed… and I’ve done Jedward and Keith Chegwin.


The point I want to make though is how addictive that feeling of releasing some previously unknown news into the world is. I don’t mean stuff like you say to people every day like ‘I had a boiled egg for breakfast’ or ‘I can’t maintain an erection unless a sparrow is gently pecking at my balls’ but something that will interest and affect a lot of people and their moods. The responses I got back were uniformly of delirious happiness and being able to give that feeling to so many people makes one feel like a God, or at least a benevolent puppeteer of the human soul. I can’t imagine how a newsreader must feel when he gets to say ‘This just in…’ and then release an extraordinary piece of information into the world such as ‘This just in, the Prime Minister has been spotted in London Zoo bumming a chimp, Number 10 yet to comment.’ And I bet Jeff Stelling must kick out a little pellet of man muck every time he gets to break the news of an important goal on Soccer Saturday. I reckon the underside of that desk must look like a plasterer’s radio by the time 5 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon rolls around.


The whole experience let me peak through a window and sample the giddy thrill of cutting edge journalism and for a moment I empathised with those journalists who fabricate news stories to get a greater response. I have slagged off lazy and even made-up journalism in JoeBusiness before but I felt what it must be like to chase that buzz. Then I remembered what a grubby little business mass publicising lies about people is and ceased to feel sorry for those snivelling little scrots but I admit even I was a bit heavy-handed with the wording of my Tweet, as Benedict didn’t explicitly say that series 4 is definitely happening, more just let’s slip that he thinks it probably is. Judge for yourselves here. He was even interviewed a couple of days later by a colleague of mine at Red Carpet News TV who said poor old Rhubarb Cumble (as I fondly like to call him) was happy to have the opportunity to set the record straight about what’s happening with Sherlock after the media furore. Thanks Cumberland Sausage, now I feel bad. My point is I got fractionally carried away in the excitement of the moments immediately following having unearthed a ‘story’ and have momentarily glimpsed the murky world of hyperbole and half-truth that, sadly, so many journalists have tumbled into.


That being said, I’m pretty sure from that video they are doing series 4 so up yours world and now I’m on the hunt for my next scoop. So if you happen to be passing London Zoo and you see a man in a suit who could be David Cameron, rutting away at a lovely little chimp like the furry little primate’s colon contains oil and his todger is a drill bit then contact details are below. We can bask in the glory and the shame together.


For my full interview with the erudite, witty and charming Mr. Cumberbatch please see here…. Think you might have found yourself a new very ‘dedicated’ fan Benny boy…

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 14th March 2013

JoeBusiness ::: Rihanna’s Bum, Famous Boobs And Terrorism

Rihanna bum

So Rihanna put a lovely photo of her bum on Twitter this week. I enjoyed it, as did millions of others I’d imagine. My question however, is why did she put a snap of her rump on the internet? She was trying to emphasise how delighted she was with her new pair of Prada boots, writing:

“Gotcha b**ch tip toeing on my marble flo’!!! Sick ass custom Prada boots! Miuccia you RULE!!! Thank you,”

Ummmm yeah. Anyway, chatting to a colleague about this he said maybe the entertainment industry is inherently sexist, referencing Seth McFarlane’s ‘We Saw Your Boobs’ song at the Oscars, where the Family Guy creator pointed out various scenes where famous actresses (most of whom were present and pictured looking shocked) had got their kit off. I disagree however, I don’t think the entertainment industry is sexist towards women, I just think it’s utterly obsessed with sex, as is humanity in general.

The fact that ‘sex sells’ is hardly big news but it was only when I started thinking about it that I realised almost everything is couched in terms of sex. Ryan Gosling, a fine actor, is rarely ever mentioned without someone pointing out what a dish he is. Just look at Claudia Winkleman’s preview for his new movie The Place Beyond the Pines on this week’s Film 2013, where her only comment was ‘Bleach blonde, I love it.’ … He has dyed his hair for the movie. Or Harry Styles. The media is absolutely obsessed with where his willy has been or will find it’s self next. Even when we talk about Islamic terrorism, how many times is there a reference to the 72 virgins supposedly awaiting martyrs in heaven, often accompanied by a snide gag. So even when it comes to blowing up innocent civilians, we can always find the shagging angle.

As I say, there’s nothing new about being obsessed with sex but it is sometimes detrimental to our understanding of what’s important. Whether it be chuckling away as Silvio Berlusconi oversees a horribly corrupt and poorly-run country because it’s pretty jokes that he has those crazy ‘Bunga Bunga’ parties or failing to ever truly appreciate what a superb actress Angelina Jolie is because we’re constantly thinking ‘Please let her get her tits out, please let her get her tits out’ and then when she does ‘YESSSSSS!!!’ and promptly texting our mates. The fact that our obsession with naked flesh often colours our perception of those who bare it is something Mila Kunis and Emma Watson shrewdly recognised when they turned down the movie version of cultural phenomenon Fifty Shades of Grey. I don’t get why that book became so big anyway, I’m just into boobs and bums and thinking about them… a lot. Hence whips, chains and psychological dominance don’t really get me rubbing my thighs and calling for the lube. Mila and Emma both realise that the last thing a rising Hollywood star needs is to expose their bare arse to a spanking on a 50 foot screen in front of a leering audience.

The point of this week’s article is… well I’m not sure really. I just feel like I’ve had an epiphany and realise how much we prioritise sex over substance. I do the same and will continue to do so, even while writing this article I heard from the property show playing on the TV in the background ‘We’re off to see architect Simon Rimmington.’ And I laughed… out loud. I didn’t think, ‘Ooh why are they going to see Mr. Rimmington?’ But rather ‘Hahaha he likes to rim people!’ Maybe it’s a limitation of our human brains or another manifestation of the evolutionary prerogative to procreate that ultimately no matter what we’re thinking about or it’s context ultimately, it all comes down to bonking… And that’s why Rihanna automatically decides to pop a pic of her arse on Twitter to tell us how much she likes her new footwear.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 7th March 2013

JoeBusiness ::: Oscars 2013… Daniel Day-Lewis Is Funny, Jennifer Lawrence Tumbles And Ben Affleck Gets Back Up

Argo Oscar

Welcome to the JoeBusiness Oscars special you lucky little sods. That’s right, last Sunday (24th Feb) was the 85th Academy Awards and this is what it’s all been about. We’ve sat through the lesser awards shows for the past few weeks, talked about it endlessly, watched enviously as Bradley Cooper comforted and charmed every pissed-up woman in showbusiness and here they finally were and you know what, they were good. Proper good. For the first time in a long time there were a number of heavyweight films, some of which were actually very good, battling it out for the top honours and they were spread fairly evenly and in my opinion, mostly correctly.

So let’s go through the boring stuff of who won what but more importantly why that matters:


Best Actor – Daniel Day Lewis, Lincoln

Say what you like about DDL but the man is astonishing. This is his third Best Actor Oscar, something no one else has ever achieved, which makes him – if we treat Oscars like Ballon D’Ors (World Player of the Year for all non-football nerds)  – the Lionel Messi of acting and quite simply the greatest actor ever to have lived. It is of course not a stats game and movies, by their very nature, are subjective but blimey it’s still impressive! He now has one too many Best Actor Oscars to make a set of bookends while I’m still using those two lovely Filipino lads to hold my tomes in place. People are always slagging Danny Dizzle off as well for being too much of a pretentious method actor ponce but just have a butchers at his acceptance speech both on Sunday and at the BAFTAs. He’s a funny little sausage.


Best Actress – Jennifer Lawrence, Silver Linings Playbook

She’s only 22 years old and already a versatile powerhouse. If she carries on like this she’ll have a whole chess set of those sodding statues by the time she’s done. Oh and she fell over on her way to collect the prize, just a couple of weeks after her dress fell apart on her way up to collect a SAG Award (Screen Actors Guild Award) which makes her seem human and that it might be worth a go trying to impress her with your UK Garage 2 Step if you saw her down the Fez Club on a Friday night.


Best Picture – Argo

A cracking film and director Ben Affleck’s speech about a refusal to quit when an unforgiving industry has written you off was extremely moving. The message about following your dreams no matter what, because that’s all you know how to do, is something that I hope resonates with everyone.


Other notable winners:

Best Supporting Actress – Anne Hathaway, Les Miserables

Best Supporting Actor – Christoph Waltz, Django Unchained

Best Director – Ang Lee, Life of Pi

Best Original Screenplay – Quentin Tarantino, Django Unchained


Click here for a full list.


The self-congratulatory opulence of the evening is something that I would normally pour scorn on but I felt this year’s Academy Awards represented a truly positive trend in filmmaking. Nearly all the movies that contested the big prizes went away with something that was representative of their strengths. Lincoln is a bit a stuffy but Daniel Day Lewis creates a president so lifelike and believable that, as with all his movies, you totally forget DDL’s even in the film; Django Unchained is a rip-roaring story with crackling dialogue; Life of Pi is achingly beautiful, Anne Hathaway does some good singing and that… and so on. The only dampener is the lack of recognition for Kathryn Bigelow’s astonishing Zero Dark Thirty which was conspicuously overlooked throughout awards season. It was a film hounded by controversy as some commentators (slobbering bell ends) claimed it endorsed torture merely because it showed it, in which case Schindler’s List must be a promo film for the Nazi Party?


That aside, this year’s Oscars show that lots of people are still making good movies, with genuine talent in front of and behind the camera and more importantly that the Academy recognises this and is willing, to a point, to reward bold filmmaking. I don’t know what it is about the Oscars, it seems the tacky nonsense of all the other award ceremonies is stripped away and you’re left with something that the nominees genuinely care about. More than the money, the fame and the uncanny ability to convince nubile Dutch students to go into disabled lavatories with you and perform acts that normally require 19 Jaeger Bombs and a healthy dose of bad decision-making, this is what they all want. The Oscars are important because they mean something, in an industry where we so often focus on things that don’t.


Don’t worry, next week it’ll be back to tits, tattoos and slagging off German schoolteachers.


Oh and I was lucky enough to be invited to do the Oscars round up on Vanessa Feltz’s BBC London radio show after the ceremony and you can listen again here… if you skip to 2 hours 51 minutes… and you care… which you probably don’t.

First published on IAmMusic.TV, 27th Feb 2013

JoeBusiness ::: Tulisa, Danny’s Film’s Dire Performance, Back Tattoos and Ben Fogle on Acid

Ben Fogle

Yes it was The Brit Awards this week and yes some people won and some people got drunk but blah, blah it was right boring weren’t it? So instead let’s chat about old JoeBusiness favourite Tulisa! Apparently Simon Cowell is set to axe her from the next series of The X Factor amid claims she was ‘distracted’ last year. Aaaaaahhhhh!!! This has prompted news that Sharon Osbourne could be set to take her place after Mel B appearing to usurp her on the panel of America’s Got Talent. Oh the turmoil! What’s Simon going to do? He now has stories running in every tabloid newspaper and glossy magazine on either side of the Atlantic about two of his biggest shows, almost as if the sneaky flat-headed rascal has masterfully manipulated the world’s press for his own benefit… again. This has prompted some rather interesting debates about who would replace Tulisa, who won’t leave by the way, I’d bet my left nut on it and that’s my favourite one, with everyone from Jay-Z to Simon’s favourite horizontal naked wrestling buddy Dannii Minogue being touted. I think there should be a random election system, much like in The Hunger Games, where every series of The X Factor a random member of the public joins Gary, Louis and Nicole as the fourth judge. I tell you what if Keith from Orpington was in charge of the over-28s he could have Robert Mugabe singing Gay Bar every week and I’d still vote for him.

In other news, poor old Danny Dyer. His new movie, Run For Your Wife, took between £600 and £750 over it’s opening weekend depending on who you listen to… either way, it ain’t good. Over the same weekend, the new Die Hard flick took an estimated £4.5 million but both films were panned by critics, so why the disparity? Ok, obvious reasons aside – Hollywood blockbuster, legendary franchise/leading man etc, the gap still seems enormous. Bruce Willis was slated for his bizarre, zombie-like appearance on The One Show while Danny Dyer, when I interviewed him at his movie’s premiere, at least answered my questions without doing an accurate impression of the geezer off the Stroke advert, so why did his movie tank while the brilliantly titled A Good Day to Die Hard didn’t? I actually think the Hollywood leviathan is genuinely a worse movie. That being said, The Shawshank Redemption put in a famously uninspired performance at the box office but went on to become a huge seller on video and DVD and is now recognised as one of the masterpieces of modern cinema. So maybe Dyer’s film, in which he plays a bigamous cab driver married to both Sarah Harding (off Girls Aloud) and Denise van Outen (off Strictly), trying to avoid either wife finding out about each other with the help of hilarious best pal, played by Neil Morrissey …. oh, I see.

On another note, this week posh telly man Ben Fogle apparently had his drink spiked with a substance thought to be LSD. Now this isn’t funny and is a serious violation but my god it’s intriguing isn’t… Ben Fogle… on Acid! According to reports, Foges tried to jump out of a window and had to be restrained during a ‘psychotic episode’. The doctors later found no neurological cause for BF’s behaviour so put it down to the fact that his drink must’ve been interfered with while the TV host and his wife enjoyed an evening in Gloucestershire pub with friends. So I’ll set the scene: you’re in a country pub, you and your pals are tripping off your nut having scored some LSD from the kid in the year above with the lip ring and then… that lanky posh geezer off the telly walks in. Only you can’t be sure, I mean you’re out of it, you were playing the ItBox with Rasputin and Super Mario earlier, so why not pop a little tab in his pint of real ale? You can see how it happened right? I would however like to reiterate that drugs and drugging TV presenters is bad ok? Except Eamonn Holmes. If you see the Big Dog himself it is customary to offer him a honk on your crack pipe. It’s just rude otherwise.

And finally, after mentioning a thigh tattoo sported by a German lady of X Factor winner James Arthur a couple of weeks ago (after which, rather satisfyingly, I received some abuse from the lady herself) I’d like to just touch (literally) on Cheryl Cole’s new ink. The Geordie lass stunned the Newcastle crowd on the opening night of the Girls Aloud tenth anniversary tour, by showing her rather large new back tattoo of some roses. I for one don’t care that she looks like a member of a Californian prison gang I still defo would… Which is incidentally why I was so popular during my stint at San Quentin Federal Penitentiary.

 First published on IAmMusic.TV, 24th Feb 2013