WHERE WAS .
Christmas chaos ensues in GILL MILLS' latest diary instalment, and there's not a wise man in sight to help out.
After a mini panic at start of month, have come to the decision that nothing short of a tsunami on the Clyde will ruffle my festive feathers this Christmas. Reeking of false confidence, decide to enter the consumer fray only to emerge five hours later with a novelty egg timer and clutch of seasonal potted plants.
Over one of Bar 10's finest cheese toasties, discuss the possibilities of buying everyone something from the Innovations catalogue to avoid minor suffocation from gangs of marauding grannies hell-bent on a cut-price Christmas. BF points out that not many of my friends have any need for a wall safe cunnineg disguised as a plug socket.
Decide to collar Dame Yule herself, Mrs Ronnie Spector. Whilst humming 'Frosty The Snowman', overhear Ronnie’s plans for her kids' presents and am once again disappointed. Little Spectors, if you're reading, get out now. She's bought you a compilation rap CD.
On the brink of despair, settle back for a chat with the ubiquitous Bez, who helpfully suggests his own book as a present. Politer decline; but, unperturbed, he outlines his plans to Free The Strangeways One —
The ubiquitous Bez outlines his plans to Free The Strangeways One and somewhat controversially claims that all air hostesses are cheeky cows.
Ian Brown — and somewhat controversially claims that all air hostesses are cheeky cows and the police are involved in some bizarre, arrest-all-of—Madchester conspiracy plot. Cites his arrest at Glastonbury as
proof. Manages to crush his own theory by admitting he was actually in possession of Class A's at the time. Unsurprisingly, remains adamant that he’s 'tellin' it like it is, man'.
Wade through a tide of cloying Christmas couples and manage to make it to the Beeb to play my part of token girl under 30 with a full complement of skin and hair. After spending a morning as spokeswoman for the disenfranchised, out-of—relationship, yet still- able-to-function youth, I thank Fred MacAulay and retire, dispirited, to the canteen.
Spirits further improved later by a jaunt to the Manchester United v Bayern Munich game. Bump into John Thomson sporting newly bleached hair and an explanation. Apparently, us kids can only relate to skinny blonde orange women
and fat blokes with comedy hair. Since he’s piloting a
'yoof' programme and couldn’t fulfil the former
criteria, he opted for the latter. Certainly felt like
‘relating' and had to be bundled off the Bovril van at half time as l was informed my shameless flirting was 'frankly embarrassing'.
Run into that living legend, Fat Harry White, who solves all my Christmas worries by proffering his big pink twelve incher for my delectation. After initial confusion, I accept his offer of a copy of his special edition, innuendo-riddled album and end my festive torment.
Make flight in time to reach Glasgow for big night out, only to discover my bags are enjoying a Yuletide break in Birmingham. Straggle home with a BA overnight pack for company and the world’s largest white T-shirt to wear for my big entrance. Consider accessorising with a simple string of pearls like the mags say, but realise I look bloody silly and take early retirement from the social whirl that is Glasgow in December.
Gill Mills is on Radio Scotland, Suns, 7-8pm; co- hosts Beat Room on BBC Choice, weekdays, 11.30pm; and co-hosts Loafers on BBC Choice, hie-Fri, 11pm.
Start scribbling, because the best letter each issue wins a bottle of Smirnoff Blue
Out with the old
If you’re old enough to remember the Buzzcocks (first time round), you may recall their song ab0ut ’nostalgia for an age yet to come’. Some similar phenomenon seems to be taking place over the abandoned sounds, hairdos, make-up and clothing of the 80s.
I was there. I know what it was like I wore high-cut, baggy-trOusered surts, dabbled in eyeliner and blusher, danced to electro-beats, bobbing away under my Howard Jones feather- cut. I even lived in Birmingham during the onset of Duran Duran. That spunkmonkey John Taylor flirted With my girl, goshdarnit. She and her friends responded by learning every word Simon Le Bon ever wrote and singing them at parties To cut a long story short I (nearly) lost my mind
So I'm here to tell you, kids -— don't go down that road It ain’t worth it, ABC aren't ironic, they’re dull. And old. Wearing makeup is neither big
ridicule is nothing to be proud of. Don’t force history to repeat itself. Above all, don't allow the 80s to repeat themselves Always say Never
Editor: Some look bad With rose- trnted glasses, some wrt/i embarrassment. If you must suffer, Ed, maybe a bottle of Smirnoff B/ue W/l/ lift your spirits
Back tracking: Duran Duran relive the 805
adriiittedly more serious
cooler, more stylish, more cultural Each City is subjected to gross generalisations by the other until, at times, it seems there is nothing but bad feeling between the east and west coasts One glance at a news programme shows countries across the world where hate breeds hate against near neighbours '\\.’llll
coi'iseguenc‘esl but why should we Scots lose our friendly r‘eputatioi‘. by c.utt:ng down ou" own Sometimes you'd think there were only two cities
I must say that the New Year street party and all the attached attractions are getting better and better every year Edinburgh is quite on the map now with all my friends and family, and I am most pleased with the range of events arranged throughout the festive period Any guests l have are always anXious to return the following year and my only concern is where to fit them all Well done, the organisers Henry Collins
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Is anyone else sick of the perpetual yet pointless bickering between folk in Glasgow and Edinburgh7 Which city is
nor clever. Phil Oakey-style partings Debbie BYUUSWiCk
are none-too-sweet sorrow. And
8 THE lIST 17 Dec 1998—7 Jan 1999
Glasgow A _. _____,_M_-._,_. .