r Concrete rumbled
5 Forget the architects and critics. If
i the Leith Fort was given over to
_ student accommodation. they‘d have plenty of stairs to sit on. moaning about their overdrafts. and drinking cheap red wine.
Nik P. Devlin
.' So another would-be minor royal has ' failed to make the grade. I suppose we should be grateful or something. but I am just worried as it has occurred to me that The Word will soon be looking for presenters for their next series. I am sure that the Duchess of York meets the producer‘s requirements. I mean. she has the right size brain. that politically incorrect vacant stare. an unquestionably suitable taste in jokes and she wouldn‘t even have to dye her hair. Bring back Amanda dc Cadenet. all is forgiven.
There. thereAnne. go back to sleep. It's all been a ghastly nightmare.
I was disappointed to see the prominent cigarette advertisement on the back ofissue number 169. This issue covered National No Smoking Day last Wednesday.
Unfortunately. Britain voted against a ban in Europe on cigarette adverts. It would be helpful if publications such as The List. which appeal to young people. would set a good example and adopt a voluntary ban.
Perhaps you could have done a ' little article on the dangers of nicotine to mark the day. We need all the help we can get to counteract the onslaught of the millions of pounds worth of advertising people are exposed to.
Sadly. in due course. many more of your readers will die because of smoking cigarettes than because of AIDS.
Dr C. Bronte—Stewart Baronscourt Terrace Edinburgh.
Scandalised by Almodovar’s
. ‘Flesh aside. it's an unremarkable piece of drama.‘ says Tom Lappin of The (.‘amomile Lawn in issue 170 of
The List. But who wants to leave the flesh aside? There it was. bouncing. ﬂouncing. strutting and even rutting across our screens. and all at the
g suitably late hourof 10pm.
But why did we have no dangly bits? There were girls' wobbly bits. There were boys sitting on the loo with nothing on and the cutest pair of buns this side of The ('hippendales. But when we had the ideal opportunity for Hector to linger. full frontal. in the camera‘s gaze. (as Polly had in the previous episode) what were we treated to? A shot of his chest. which was about as erotic as a horsehair blanket.
So how can the absence from the screen of all that wedding tackle be explained? Hardly because of the hour: it was well past the kiddies‘ bed time. nor the channel. as C4 was set up to make just such exposures. So perhaps they were afraid of Mary Whitehouse and her crowd? Peter Hall? Afraid of Mary Whitehouse? Get real! Surely it can‘t be that the actors were ‘frit‘ to display their bits. I mean. having seen the size of Oliver's paunch. an anatomical
High Heels. outraged after re-readin g The Wasp Factory or just plain astonished that Gary Numan is still doing the rounds? Well jot down your thoughts and send them to The List. We‘ve a bottle of the very finest Jose Gold Tequila to give to the best letter next issue.
horrible old sexism has raised its ugly head again.
Worse. we have an exploitative situation which plays straight into the hands of those puritans who love to stop us watching naked bodies on our TV screens. So. ifthere is the opportunity. the hour. the anatomy and the physique. as the Stones used to say: ‘get yer ya yas out‘!
detail over which the actor surely has
some control. who is going to worry about the size ofsomething over which he had no say?
We can count out the (quite understandable) view that those daneg bits are just too comical to be taken seriously. as The (.‘amomile Lawn is hardly your heavy social comment. That just leaves the increasingly likely possibility that
NEXT ISSUE OUT ON THURSDAY 9 APRIL
Eequrlo Forciny argued S. Forcibly argued. Butyou must have blinked during episode two, we're sure we glimpsed Oliver's tackle during his entanglement with ('alypso. which proves yourpoint. A bottle ofi'ery wonderfulJose (‘uervo Tequila awaits you at our lidinlntrgh office as slight recompense . . .
I am sorely miffed at the arrogant blustcrings of those who seek our votes. Who cares whether Run Rig decided that as individuals they are for an independent Scotland? What do the opinions of a Very Rich filmstar matter. even if he did once have a real job? Why should we take note of Robbie (‘oltrane’s declared intentions on April the ninth? Will knowing how Ian Botham will benefit from tax cuts make me change the way I vote?
Ignore the lot of them. I say. It is I the issues not the personalities. the ‘ parties‘ record not their famous supporters. which count. How condescending can the politicians get? If you can‘t make your own . mind up without having a role model to guide your vote you might as well follow the old anarchist saw: Don‘t . vote. it only encourages them. ; Andy Reid Spottiswoode Road ‘ Edinburgh
Sounding off The article in the last issue of The List on video games was a useful guide to us twentysomethings who have fallen for the bright lights ofthe technological vanguard. However. having recently had to go Cold ; Turkey after a serious Tetris habit and spend time in close proximity to Nintendo freaks. I feel that one highly pernicious aspect of these games was not brought out clearly enough. Those sounds are lethal. "Techno bands are queuing up to record soundtracks for games‘. but not for the ones I have played. Anyone who has had to endure that ‘debedeh deep deep‘ as Mario pies another monster. or the blips as anotherTetris block falls from the sky will understand. It is not the games themselves that are causing permanent damage. but continued exposure to their soundtracks. Mark Williamson Lawrence Street Glasgow.
Address your letters to:
The List Letters at:
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179 Buchanan Street.
Glasgow GI 2J2.
Fax them to: 031 557 8500.
We will not print your full address or phone number. but you must include them. Long letters may be cut. Deadline is the Friday be ore ‘ publication. The best letter next issue i will win a bottle of Jose (.‘uervo : Tequila.
Spring Book Special: page-turning round-up of the season's page-turners. Edinburgh Science Festival: buff ins. blips and brainstorms. Alien Wars: spaced-out. underground and scary.
NOT TO MENTION . . . My Own Private Idaho. Edinburgh Folk Festival. Spielberg's Hook. Ralph Mc'l‘ell. Errol Brown. Charley Pride and lots more . . .
72 The List 27 March — 9 April 1992
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