I smell what HE'S cooking

It's not often that you can look back on a childhood crush with a measure of pride. As a rule, whether you were shrieking the name of the gay one from Boyzone or failing to realise that, at the age of seven, you were one of the only women in the western world short enough to date a member of 911, the men we had plastered across our prepubescent walls were of the cringey variety.

Normally these teen hearthrobs at least do us the service of fading into relative obscurity, resurfacing from time to time as a punchline, or a Celeb Big Brother contestant or as a talking head on one of those 'We love the nineties' shows. More recently, the trend for relaunching classic boybands has brought a number of us face to face with our pretty boy of choice ten years on.

For many, including the aforementioned Steven Gately groupies, the effect is not too humiliating. Groups of twentysomethings can sit happily watching Boyzone's 2008 tour with no more than occasional squeal of 'I can't believe I thought he was straight!'. The same cannot be said for the comeback of my first true love.

Peter Andre.

I LOVED Peter Andre. I saw him live. I owned a badge. And.. yeah. With hindsight, I must admit that neither at his prime nor in the Jordan years was that man attractive. But God, I wanted to be his Mysterious Girl. Yeesh.

And so, I would like to offer my heartfelt thanks to one Duane 'The Rock' Johnson, for managing to remain in the spotlight without making me feel like a total asshat for adoring him when I was twelve. If anything, he's gotten more attractive since he stopped playfighting with greasy men and devoted himself to helping cute Disney alien kids get back to Witch Mountain or whatever. The most electrifying man in sports entertainment has not let me down. I'm only a little embarrassed that I actually read his autobiography. So, thanks Duane! Keep up the good work.

Pity he's not enough to undo the Andre thing though.

Just one quick question

What was in that cheese that Nicola gave to Steve on Neighbours? He's, like, nearly dead!

I was going to use a picture of Steve writhing around in mouldy cheese-related agony, but I couldn't find one. And then I found this and decided it is much nicer.

Sigh. I miss Frazer.

Just Say No, kids

You know when people tell you that you should never, ever leave a foreign bar with two guys you just met to get drinks and pot in their apartment? Turns out they're totally right.

Because that's what me and my friend Anabel did on Wednesday and I seriously almost got bored to death.

They were nice enough guys. A talkative one who wanted to practice his english because he's moving to Canada, and his somewhat shyer friend. When we got to the apartment there were two more, who were so paralysingly shy that they essentially spent the entire time we were there cowering in a corner, hiding from us, with our conversation and our hair and our boobs and whatnot.

But then the talkative one passed out. And the only other one who could actually speak to women said something which made my blood run cold. In broken english, he came out with

"I have travelled. I have been to Malaysia and Thailand and Laos. Would you like to see the photos?"

No, I assured him. That would be totally unnecessary. I told him how my best friend had been to those places on her gap year, and that consequently I have seen enough photos of the region to find my way around quite successfully should I ever be dropped unexpectedly in the middle of Bangkok (ok, this is a lie. But I would totally know what city I was lost in). And he nodded cheerfully and... started the slide show. He hooked it up to the tv and everything.

It would. Not. End. I swear. At one point, after showing me a photo of himself proudly holding up his target at a shooting range in Phuket, he wandered off and for a brief, glorious moment I hoped it was over. But then he came back, with that very target. He made me touch the bullet shell.

I don't care how good the shit they were offering was. Nothing is worth that.

Always A Wildcat!

So, I made it back to England for a few days this weekend, and I put my time to good use. Contacting my family? No. Doing any of the mounting pile of paperwork that I need to send to various institutions in the UK? Of course not. But I did manage copious drinking, a trip to Primark and, most importantly, to see High School Musical 3.

Seldom have I enjoyed two hours of my life more. It is quite the experience. And my friends Mel and KP felt the same way. Literally, it went went like this:

Opening shot of Zac Efron's intense and sweaty face
Mel: Ohhhh.. (begins laughing as silently as she can). He's not hot.
Me: Just wait
KP: Unconvinced

After inspirational sports speech the singing begins.
Myself and KP's shoulders are also shaking at this point.

V Hudge stands to sing about her belief in Zac's basketball prowess. Apparently, that's all he needs.
Me: Ha! Also, put your sneakers on
(Also, the first of many squawks of laughter escapes the only other group of people in the cinema who do not have a preteen with them)

First of MANY love ballads begins in a treehouse. V-Hudge utters the immortal line 'I'm looking at you and my heart loves the view'
Mel: That's... That's just the best lyric I've ever heard. I'm so using that in real life now
(Incidentally, she did go on to make it her facebook status, and somebody actually asked her permission to use it as a lyric. When she explained it's origin he went off on one about how he hates HSM and X Factor and the commercialisation of music, and accused both of being fixed. I am not entirely sure how this accusation applies to HSM. Also, he clearly admires the somewhat retarded songwriting they employ, so whatevs. Anyways, I digress)

Sharpay enters
Me: I love her. I love everything about her. I love A-Tis.
KP: Shut up
Me: OK

The 'English' girl is introduced
KP: Best. Accent. Ever.
Mel: I'm going to start talking like that all the time.

After every costume change in Sharpay's big number
All three of us: Ohhhh.. I need one of those. Seriously, how have we survived this long without sequined unitards?

During a spectacular rooftop dance sequence
KP: Wait... this feels normal. Oh my God, my sense of reality has been completely distorted. I'm totally acclimatised.

Zac wears a super tight tux and humps the air during the prom song
Me and Mel: HA!
KP: OK, not entirely acclimatised...

Ryan and Kelsi have 'chemistry'
Mel: What? Is he not gay?
Me: Well, it is Disney
KP: It's enough to ask me to accept that Efron' s straight. That man has being wearing pink pants for half of this film.

Tiny Zac and Chad emerge during highly homoerotic song
KP: Excellent.
Me: Yeah... That is actually kind of adorable.
Mel: Look at that one's hair!
(Loudest squawk yet from the back of the room)

Zac and V-Hudge eat chocolate covered strawberries in a vaguely erotic fashion
Me: OK, they MUST be doing it.
Mel: Seriously. Actually, maybe he is kind of hot...
Me: Told you!
KP rolls eyes theatrically.

Zac and Chad share boy style emotional talk
Mel: Heh. Man.
Me: I know, dude.
Much snorting all round whenever either man or dude are used for the rest of the scene. Which is pretty much exactly once per line.

Zac removes his shirt with his back to the audience
Me: Yay!
Mel: Officially hot.
KP: Maybe...
Me: Hey! Turn around!
He puts on another shirt without turning
Me: Boo to you, Disney. I want gratuitous pec.
KP: That's what One Tree Hill is for.
Me: Fair. Carry on, Zac.

Zac appears in prom suit in tree (it makes a little bit more sense in context. Only a little)
KP: OK. (sighs) That is hot.
Mel: Wait... Did he just drive over a thousand miles in the truck that has really conspicuously not been working for the last hour?
Me: Yes. Yes he did.
Mel: Oh. OK.

Big final show
Mel: And then he drove back.
Me: Yes.

Zac proudly announces that he chooses basketball AND theatre at the University of California.. Berkley.
Mel: Are they even the same institution?
KP: And did Berkley just offer him a place?
Me: He is Zac Efron. He can attend every university in the world should he decide to. Simultanously. Just accept.

Zac tells us solemnly that 'Once a Wildcat.. Always a Wildcat'. Chad pumps his fist equally solemnly
Me (solemn fist pump): I am always a Wildcat
KP: Tard

Final Curtain. Lights come up.
Mel: I want to applaud.
Me and KP grin inanely in agreement.

Seriously. See it. I may go and see it dubbed into French - I suspect it might be even more fun!.

Why Lorelai Gilmore Is Not Such An Idiot, by me

I’ve been rewatching some Gilmore Girls lately, and the episodes I’ve happened to watch have made me thinks about one of the show’s OTPs. Not the OTP, I am more than happy with Luke and Lorelai (Lukelai? Loreluke? Whatever). I’m talking about Emily Gilmore’s OTP. Lorelai and Christopher.

Christopher, for the uninitiated, is a character who pops up a lot over the course of the show’s seven-season run. He kind of has to, because he is Lorelai’s high school boyfriend and the father of her child. The other thing that Christopher is, is kind of an asshat. Season 1, he shows up and is an irresponsible tool who hasn’t matured one iota since Lorelai refused to marry him at sixteen. Season two, Chris has ostensibly got it together, and is ready to make a real go of it with Lorelai and Rory as a family. Until he finds out that his other girlfriend, Sherry, is totally pregnant. He then gets abandoned by Sherry, sucks at single parenting without Lorelai’s help, and eventually marries Lorelai before finally screwing that one up as well. For elaboration on why Chris is a total douche, see www.televisionwithoutpity.com. They do snark better than me.

Looking at that track record, it’s easy to call Lorelai an idiot. Why does she keep taking him back? Will she ever learn? (The final answer to that one seems to be yes, praise the Lord). But really, doesn’t everybody have a Christopher lurking somewhere in their past? I know I do. Fortunately, for most of us (myself included) that somebody didn’t knock us up and so will probably not be hanging around screwing with our heads in sixteen years’ time.

But still, think back to that guy. That early, if not first, love who was just… totally useless. Fun, for a while. And you liked him enough to really try and believe it could work. But in the end it just couldn’t, and afterwards, you had to admit that you always knew that breaking point was coming. But even with all the clarity of hindsight there is a nagging doubt, a fear that if he came back and promised that things would be different, that he would no longer be in love with your best friend/sleep with other women/be emotionally retarded or whatever it was, you would fall for it.

That guy is the secret shame that every girl carries with her into womanhood. He is the memory that makes would be feminists squirm in discomfort. And he is ubiquitous. Seriously, I doubt anybody can make it past the age of twenty-five without finding that one guy who made her act like a total idiot, and could quite possibly do it all over again were he of a mind to. It’s terrifying and more than a little embarrassing. It doesn’t even matter how well you know him and his faults. And it’s easy to identify him. He’s the loser you’re still complaining about to your friends when the period of time since the break up is longer that the relationship itself was. If you haven’t seen him in that time, you’re in deep shit.

Still, it seems there is little anybody can do to escape this. So consider him a rite of passage. Be glad that you’ve survived him intact. Some of you will get off more lightly than others (I myself suffered only fair to moderate humiliation and emotional scarring). And beware of him in future. TV is more than just entertainment – it’s an education (that’s what I tell myself as I waste my life, anyway). And if we can learn anything from Gilmore Girls, aside from drink more coffee and buy a lot of scarves, it’s this; never, EVER go back to your Christopher. Even a shared child isn’t enough to make it work.

Fictional Characters I Would Happily Marry

I have many a TV boyfriend. In fact, I'm quite the fiction slut. But not every crush wanders into marriage territory. My Chuck Bass love, for example, is well documented, but even the most ardent admirer has to admit that he's hardly husbad material. There are, however, a few men out there (and yes, I am totally aware that none of them are real, and no, I am not crazy. Honest!) who would make for the perfect happily-ever-after.

1. Capt. Malcolm Reynolds
Firefly's Mal has it all. Noble, loyal and all that jazz, with a pleasingly maccho veneer of badass. Plus, hot. All I need to overcome is his UST with Inara (and the fact that he doesn't exist, obviously) and I'm sure we could have a long and happy life together.
Note: The only reason that Han Solo does not appear on this list (Space smugglers in tight pants? Totally my type) is that even in the realms of daydream it is just wrong to come between him and Leia. I know, I have problems.

2. Fred Weasley
I have had the same argument with my friends for years now. I can tell the difference between the Weasley twins. I can! And Fred was definitely my favourite, which is why I found the seventh HP book so traumatic (and I am not spoiler tagging this, because if you haven't read that book by now you don't really care who died). He was funny, sweet, a wealthy magical joke shop entrepeneur and TOTALLY DIFFERENT from his twin. So there.

3. The Men of How I Met Your Mother
Three for one here. First, there's Ted. Possibly the most charming character ever committed to film: Funny without being snarky, smooth without being slimy and totally looking for a wife to adore. Then you have Marshall. Who is wonderful. Like, the nicest man alive. And clearly not dumb (Lawyer? Hello!). And then...
Barney Stinson. Now, he may seem like an odd choice, given my earlier rejection of fellow douchebag Chuck Bass (and the omission of damaged Doctor Alex Karev for that matter). But I'd like to give Barney a chance. After all, he's just your standard issue shallow man whore, while Chuck is evil. Deliciously so, but still evil. I think Stinson could be redeemed. And Season 4 of HIMYM might just prove me right on this one. Yeah, I'm totally team BroTP.

4. Jimmy the Hand
Those familiar with Raymond Feist will know this character as an intelligent street urchin/pickpocket, a devoted, if headstrong, Royal Squire, and finally a responsible and powerful Duke/Spymaster. It's the second of these three incarnations which I'd marry, and without a second thought.
As with the whole space smugglers thing, it seems thieves with a heart of gold are a type for me - Tamora Pierce's George Cooper also holds a certain attraction.

5. Frazer Yeats.
I love Neighbours. I will always love Neighbours, now matter how many ridiculous cave ins/bush fires/hauntings occur on Ramsey St. That said, I'm not 100% sure that I'll ever forgive then for letting Frazer go. Or for keeping his shirt on all the time while Oliver prances around in a towel at the drop of a hat. It's going to be tough.

6. Sandy Cohen
Yes, dude is old. But that hardly changes the fact that he's perfect. Not even the threat of passing on his spectacular eyebrows to my offspring (and I'm betting that is one seriously dominant gene right there) would deter me from becoming Mrs Cohen. Time was, I'd have gone for the more age appropriate option and said I'd marry Seth Cohen in the hopes of him turning out like Sandy. Of course, that was before Season 2 of The OC happened and Cohen Jr turned into a whiny little bitch. Pity. His dad's still got it though.

7. Will Parry
I am aware of the fact that Philip Pullman's hero is supposed to be, like, thirteen, but anybody who's read His Dark Materials will agree that that's hardly the point. And even though coming between Will and Lyra would be a crime of a par with separating Han and Leia, I figure that once they're trapped in alternate dimensions for all eternity all bets are off.

So, those are my guys of choice. Should any of them become real I would like to be alerted immediately. I was going to push through and find another three to make the list a nice, round number, but I figured I was enough of a fictional bigamist (as well as the slut I was before I started the husband list) to be getting on with. Who've I left out?

I love a douchebag

So today, I didn't get round to a) dressing or b) leaving my appartment. Which I don't feel too bad about because in France EVERYTHING is closed on Sunday. Plus I had a hangover and a vague sense of embarrassment about my behaviour last night to contend with. So what I did instead was watch the entire third season of How I Met Your Mother.

Firstly, that show is awesome. Insert obligatory 'legen - wait for it - dary' reference here. But the main thing I noticed was that I was developing a crush of epic proportions, not on Ted Mosby(the most charming man on tv) or super sweet Marshall, but on total asshat Barney. I am actually upset by the fact that Neil Patrick Harris is gay.

And then I started thinking; this is not an isolated incident. I really love a fictional douchebag. I heart Chuck Bass beyond measure. McSteamy or McDreamy? Give me steamy, any time. And thow in some Karev while you're at it. Logan Echolls will always hold a place in my heart, and was never hotter than when he was pounding the crap out of totally innocent nice boy Piz. I am consistently attracted to whichever fictional character is most likely to treat women with no respect whatsoever.

That, of course, is stupid. The entire bad-boy thing is one of the most self destructive traits a woman can have. But it is so undeniably there! Today I watched impassively as Ted put his all into wildly romantic gestures, then watched Barney recount jut some of the thousands of ways he has screwed girls over and thought 'Damn. I'd tap that'. So just what is it that makes a bad boy so irrestistable?

The popular theory is, of course, that women see the total tool as a challenge. That there would be a victory in being the one person who could tame him, that just isn't equalled by the triumph of managing to snag a guy who's already wonderful. I think there is something in that, but for me, the main attraction is that any act of kindness, no matter how small, is worth so much more coming from a bad guy.

Think about it. If we'd learned that trustworthy Ted had flown to San Fran to convince Lily to come back to Marshall it would have been no big deal. Sweet, but that's Ted for you. The same act from commitment phobe Barney? Mind blowing. And hot. Ted was in love with Robin by the end of the first episode. So what? Three years on Barney decides he might have feelings for her weeks after they've slept together? The most romantic thing I've ever heard!

The same applies to all of the other characters I mentioned. Chuck Bass secretly selling his shares in his beloved burlesque club to help his best friend out? Awesome. And that brings me to another point - he didn't want the friend to know that he'd done it. With that, ladies and gentlemen, I am sold. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, hotter than a guy who is secretly nice. A guy who will go to great lengths to conceal his humanity and maintain the carefully propogated myth that he is a complete douchetard. I love it.

And it's not just are their kindnesses worth more than those of guys who wear their niceness with pride - George O'Malley can be as lovely as he likes but Alex Karev saving a baby while talking sports will always leave him for dust. It is a simple fact that bad guys are just more interesting. Nobody who's read Sense and Sensibility can seriously prefer the integrity of the Colonel to the dashing, if caddish, charms of Willoughby. I'm just saying, a lady likes a hint of danger to spice things up.

But I think there is at least one point of genuine merit for the bad boy contingent - at least you know what to expect. You can dream of being the one woman who will make him see the error of his ways, but you go to bed with a Barney and he never calls? You should have known what you were getting into. The douchey traits of a Ted or a McDreamy (and they will have some, trust me) are far more difficult to predict and often more devastating on revelation. Plus, with a Barney you will never lose the moral high ground, and who doesn't love to be right?

So for me, it's case closed. Despite a lingering suspicion that the secret softer side is only obligatory to bad boys in the fictional world, and that for the most part people who appear to be asshats are just that, I just... love a douchebag. At least it's never dull.