Showing posts with label feature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feature. Show all posts

Thursday, 22 July 2010

Stuck for something to do?

Why not check the Outgoing page in the latest addition of Stylist magazine that I penned! Might be able to view it better here.

Wednesday, 12 May 2010

Profile: behind the scenes with Disney Land Tokyo's princess Jasmine...


Avoiding stalkers at pains to let go of the make-believe, trying not to get caught messing around with your prince and the art of wig fixing so as to appear as cartoon like as possible...all in a days work for Surrey born Roxy Andreuccetti Stapleton who broke free of the Surrey surburbs to play Pocahontas, Jasmine and Belle at Disney Land Tokyo for a 6 month contract. 

ARTICLE CONTINUES AFTER THE JUMP


Sunday, 13 December 2009

80's pin ups, fake porn and Sperm Mugs: meet Stuart Sandford




 Stuart Sandford sits at his tidy desk in the rather un-rock and roll area of the capital, south Kensington. Oh yes darlings, my high tops are off and have dusted off a pair of pricey looking but easy on the wallet vintage boots, chosen to provide the essential foot covering element to treading the gold lined pavements of the west in search of sexy new art star Stuart Sandford. Well ok, sharing the pavement with people who have more gold than me. Alas I couldn't let go of my 3 pairs for a fiver ear bling though, which hindered me slightly as I found myself having to engage in the smiley eye dance of trust with the security guard following me around Harrods.

In the basement of a rather fine pillared town house sits the young man in question. Prescription Raybans provide trendy face furniture for the freckly faced young artist, most famous for his 'Cumfaces' project; intimate snaps of good looking guys in the height of climax commissioned by Gay Times in 2007.

ARTICLE CONTINUES AFTER THE JUMP....

Friday, 6 November 2009

Documentry Slebrity...


Watching Starsuckers got my brain cogs electricly churning whilst simultaniously wacking me in the face with a mighty wooden spoon of synicism.
Difficult to explain I'm gonna go and do one of the things it highlights burdens our media today and copy its a "documentary about the celebrity obsessed media, that uncovers the real reasons behind our addiction to fame and blows the lid on the corporations and individuals who profit from it" straight from their press release.

Using an unfortunate US magician to narrate the whole thing in the hope of enforcing how media conglomerates trick us similarly was its fatal error but one I'd still suggest you bypass to check out the meaty delight that is quality content in the film. Lithuanian celebrity MPs, which sees an ex-Who Wants to be a Millionaire host pri-ministering over the nation (completely true!!) has to be the most entertaining bit, as does some secret filming of Max Clifford. Making too many points is its problem but it really succeeded in enforcing the complexities of the celebrity fascination society's in the midst of. Chris Atkins told it took two years of his life to produce this film, which won't be touched by any of the major cinemas or tabloids and obviously set his contact list ablaze (I'm talking flame raging carnage people) and I bloody commend him immense props for demonstrating a higher level of belief in his production of a film that leaves you loads to think about.

Like this eh? Have a gander at this for a more blow-by-blow review...

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Facebook for Spooks; A-Space is watching yOu

What to do when you're a secret service agent looking to share those drunken snaps of last nights escapades? You know when you were called Gladys, and spent your evenings trying to extract sensitive information from a foreign business woman whilst your co-worker was pulling shapes in the background, fully enlightened that the un- cooperative power suited female, who was now spread across three chairs and talking to your forehead, only cared to regale facts related to her steamy affairs with bell boys around the globe. Never been in that situation? Oh.

Well whilst the rest of us read this the Department of National Intelligence in the US is launching their own exclusive social network called A-Space aimed at connecting spies from the 16 intelligence agencies across America and allowing them to share ideas and information freely.

"It's every bit Facebook and YouTube for spies, but it's much, much more," said Michael Wertheimer, assistant deputy director of national intelligence for analysis. And just like the networking sites we know and love each analyst will create their own profiles, see what their peers are working on, and be able to post messages on their mates pages. They've even called in legendary FB creator Mark Zuckerberg himself to help develop specs, are set to go live on 22nd of September, aiming to eventually be capable of carrying documents several levels above 'Top Secret'. Several levels!

Yes friends just as I was contemplating if Inspector Georgia would be looking for 'anything she could get' or just mere 'friendship' (those secrets leave a girl lonely you know) I was informed that sensibly it will not publicly accessible. In fact even most authorized individuals won't be able to access all the compartments, and this is after getting through 16 different security wavers! Big Brother will be monitoring the spies, observing traffic patterns and looking out for suspiciously anomalous searches. Oo err...

Monday, 11 August 2008

Secret Garden; a place where all the Real nutters forget about the office…

Secret garden party is an eclectic, ridiculous boutique festival where imagination laughs in the face of reality and should spit on his shoe should the two ever meet. The glorious media tent resembles more of a high class shed, while many a skinny jeaned front man patrol the grounds unnoticed by heavily costumed punters safe in the knowledy they’ll be no dodgy photo opportunities and everything runs about an hour behind schedule. An exclusively anti-corporate not for profit bash staged in a landscaped garden where all the necessary tools for creative debauchary are set out for you and bananas hang from trees like edible symbols of opportunity, only duck taped to a twig.
For many, yours truly included, the party provides the ultimate big kids playground where one can smother herself in glitter, revel in the ‘security guards’ relaxed behaviour (hell one instructed my mate who was running the “Bubble Wrap Ballroom” to cover his supervisors car in the gratifying packaging) and catch a few z’s on a haystack. But inbetween bouncing to new Mancunian band Kid British (you can check them out here http://www.myspace.com/kidbritishmusic) perform an impromptu gig and marvelling at a cast of beer clutching actors perform scenes of Hamlet around the 100 acre site, I couldn’t help but notice a reoccurring trait in the majority of my fellow party people…Many were aging lunatics.
They had come in droves out of pure necessity to forget about rising fuel prices and potential in-laws; the literal cream of the ‘mortgage-rocking’ crop could finally release their inner joker that had been so cruelly suppressed behind an air-conditioned desk since New Year’s Eve.
Example one. Take this fellow named “Courage”, a wonderful gentleman of companionable nature and affable heart (ok I see you might not get that from the eye rolling, but work with me here…). He considerably aided my pal and me in turning our sail-in-a-borrowed-dinghy mission into a reality, and relished to tell all that the green embroidered blanket he carried (not pictured unfortunately) had been by his trusty side since birth.


...He’s a PHARMACUTICAL SALESMAN!
Another, case two, this lady Shona whom generously provided us with encouragement, enthusiasm and other
helpful equipment for our mission. Not nearly so aesthetically humorous but perhaps more indicative of what the average ‘camping lunatic’ we were dealing with looks like on a day-to-day basis. She tickled us with anecdotes of her flat mates blasé reaction at been having found to be related to the discovery of a used condom (oh the larks!), and tales of past employment at ‘The Disney Store’ to the point I just wanted to squeeze her tight and take her home. What’s the poor love do now?
Works in ADMIN at CUSTOMS & EXCISE!
Although physically less than a hundred miles from home, there was something about the place that seemed to have been tailor made to mentally transport this breed much further into realms of pure escapism than any last minute deal to Majorca could promise. Amongst others I found were an acid tripping city banker and poem spouting I.T executive…was it the smug knowledge of a reduced carbon footprint that drew them here? Or the power of a large group of frustrated spirits, let loose in a dressing up box and all on a comfortable monthly payroll? Many like this chap attired himself overtly to ‘shock’:
Suggesting this weekend was merely to postpone that midlife crisis. Of course not everyone shared this brothers enthusiasm for toilet paper, a light cluttering of gay lords overdosed on bottles of two percent fizzy pop meandered on the grassy banks; some dickheads even attempting to sabotage our dinghy with the glass remainders.
Most of the lunatics I met seemed like inspiring and funny creatures, and although they weren’t quite yet neighbour hood watch association material, the situation did sadden me slightly. I attempted to drag some away from waving their florally tattooed forearms at Metronomy and quiz them further about their feelings on the matter, but sensed their immediate reluctance and shift in attitudes at the mention of the dreaded day job. To be honest I felt almost rude mentioning it in this paradoxical wonderland.
Gotta hand it to the loons, they knew where to party. This guy sums it up quite nicely...