May hiatus

Dear my faithfuls…I’d give you all my last Rolo if I could. But I can’t due to the laws of physics and such.

This month has been seriously busy for me due to AS Levels. Such a cop-out, but as I’m seriously dedicated to high quality content I feel that rather than a coherent blog I’ll just roll out links to 5 cool things I’m enjoying right now and apologise profusely. Please follow me on twitter (@hannahjdavies) and I’ll spew more nonsense there.

1.MIA ROSE is a chanteuse and a bit of a flanteuse when she sings sitting on her bed but…

She’s really beautiful (think Glee’s Rachel meets Norah Jones meets Penelope Cruz) and although she’s been around a few years, (and endured more than a few suspcions over her seemingly huge Youtube following) this songstress never fails to make me smile. File her covers and Gibson-playing between Colbie Caillat and Sheryl Crow, even though she has been managed by Tommy Mottolla (Mariah’s ex).

And she wears quite a few hats. Something which kinda adds to her girl-next-door vibe.

2. Harry Hill’s paintings

They’re almost as hilarious than his TV show, and Harry Hill’s paintings provoke more of a smile than a Burp – as seen in this week’s Observer. I especially like Parker-Bowles Windsor (below) the love child of Camilla and Charles who is a decidedly ominous creamy spacehopper with more of a resembelence to Robin Williams in Flubber. I digress – a symbol, perhaps, of our strange relationship with the couple and (pathetically) undying love for Princess Diana.

3. Money

Not in note-form, although you can make any cheques payable to me. Nope, I’m talking about the 2-part adaptation of Martin Amis’ novel with Vincent Kartheiser (Mad Men) and Nick Frost (Hot Fuzz) which recently graced our screens on BBC2. Reeeaaaalllly good (a little subjective as I’m a Martin Amis fan) but this was a really fun bit of 80s which should sit alongside the Rayban revival, John Hughes films being shown late at night and Vice Magazine’s Bret Easton Ellis interview this month.

Here’s a useless picture of Vince just to illustrate how symmetrical his face is. I think he might use Carmex, too. The guy who over-straightens his hair on Junior Apprentice could also take a few tips from Karthy’s bouncy straight locks which are statically mussed up a little on top as to appear nonchalant, but calmed with serum. I can smell Frederic Fekkai through my computer.

4. Twitterings

After over a year leaving tiny nuggets of mundanity and picking up quickly aggregated news and cynical musings and (possibly made-up) gossip from the twitterati, I don’t want to leave. It’s too fun, especially when real-life augments itself into Twitter via pictures, mentions and locations (becoming a mayor of Oxford St McDonalds on FourSquare is my next goal).

I even recorded a voiceover for reviews site The 405 (server isn’t working so here is the link: after chatting on Twitter, and the manager of Cha Cha sent me this video after finding me on there:

Admittedly its too inoffensive, slick and overpolished for my liking, and lacks personality, but it is a cute video and i really do respond to everything which is emailed to me.

5. Festival essentials

Summer’s almost here, and I really want a Hunter festival survival pack (available from Office) – tons of good stuff packed into a one litre flask with Hunter logo in the classic mossy green colour, which is actually just known as Green. I. Need. This.

Urban Outfitters ‘Contrast Trim Satchel’ is probably too shallow to fit that massive bottle into, but I like it anyways due to its Americana feel and oversized clasp. I’m no Mariella Tandy but yum.

If money were no object I’d probably be stuffing everything into one of these stunning pouches courtesy of Felder Felder at Browns, which perfectly marry my ambition to be part of some outlaw motorcycling club in Arkansas with my (pipe) dream of designing a haute couture collection based on dirt and leather and saloon doors. Enough space or keys, plasters and a bit of cash although unfortunately £190. If Matalan are reading this, please make a copy for £4.


The Paper Edition

This is where my famous green typing ends for a while, and you get to sample The ‘Zine. It is a magical thing when you can use paper and a pen in a cross-promotional marketing strategy inspired by THE APOCOLYPSE OF PRINT. Here we go:

The Mona Cheryl by Hannah J 'Leonardo' Davies

*Have you got any thoughts on this month’s paper-licious issue, written on pretty ancient paper my mother used whilst at university I might add? Email me: with your thoughts. A letters page might happen, y’know.

PS: Click here to watch something which touched my heart this Valentines. Vice Magazine’s VBS bring you, yes you, a Rule Britannia special six-part ‘Swansea Love Story’, focusing on addicts such as Lee Dennis, who graphically recounts his drug abuse and how he contracted Hep C in prison, as he rifles through his possessions in an Iceland bag casually. Desperate fights to get clean in a city which, according to its older inhabitants hasn’t changed…its the people who have. All in all, such deprivation, tales of sexual abuse and familial collapse are handled with class by director Leo Leigh sooo go watch. Plus, CNN thought it was noteworthy.

Listening to: JAM. I hope Liorah Tchiprout, the author of this pretty amazing playlist for use with Spotify, won’t mind me sharing it with you x x

End of my girl crush.

x x x x

2 days late!


I absolutely hate delivering a late blog entry…it makes me angry! Still – I had quite a good excuse not to have been slogging over the Bberry or laptop, eyes glazed over and fingers bent…I also managed to go ginger somewhere in there as well:

I had my prom, when I should have been thinking about this very blog (Tuesday night). I had always imagined feeling like Cinderella on my prom night – rising up from the aesthetic mediocrity of not straightening my hair for weeks on end, not wearing any make-up and sitting around watching ‘The Hills’ in a tracksuit which looks like a Juicy second. Then – suddenly – the exams were over, and it was time to start thinking about looking nice – an alien concept after weeks of nighttime revision with Lucozade and Brickbreaker as my only friends…

An LBD was the order of the day, as were NBHs and an SGB. Make of that what you will – in other words, I dressed up, and then danced so much that my feet will surely never forgive me…

Anyhow, this blog isn’t all about me; in fact, this month it is about someone much more interesting: Michael Jackson. I was watching BBC 3 last Thursday night when the 60 Second News announced that he had been taken ill with a heart attack. Then, I went to check Facebook a few minutes later, and the story had exploded like a popular culture atom bomb all over the usually mundane midweek updates of “I need a fag” or “tonight was so much fun” etc etc. The word on everyone’s status was Jackson, soon followed by “dead”.

But was he dead? Was he actually dead or were these just vicious rumours. For someone whose life had been shrouded in mystery the clear cut accuracy of “Michael Jackson is dead” scrolling across the screen of Sky News did not quite fit. Neither did the Twitter tributes pouring in from @aplusk (Ashton Kutcher) and @mileycyrus (errrm, Miley Cyrus). He was a little boy had never quite grown up, and who was the epitomy of a child star gone wrong. Whilst I was a great fan of his music – tunes such as ‘Beat It’, ‘Thriller’ and S’mooth Criminal’ are truly timeless – his life was some kind of candycane sugar-topped Disneyland JM Barrie adventure with a distinctly bitter aftertaste.

Here he was, in the early days of change…

But, before long, Michael Jackson was truly unrecognisable as the baby-faced boy who had charmed with the Jackson 5 (see below).

In life he was surrounded by scandal and allegation, not least those that he was a dangerous paedophile who had built his Neverland ranch to abuse young children. However, it was his physical appearance which fans such as myself had often wondered about? Did Jackson’s bitter memories of his family, and his early years spent as part of the band in a ‘travelling circus’ style, force him to shed his ‘black’ appearance for a new ‘white’ one, or was his obvious transformation one which happened because of a skin disease or even skin cancer as had been rumoured? We may never know now, but we are left which the legacy of his music and an exciting possibility to hear previously unreleased tracks which he recorded prior to his death, in order to provide a future for his children posthumously. A tragedy has occured in the world of music, but I for one think Michael Jackson has bowed out with some dignity intact and that, left any later, his death may have occured in worse circumstances.


Golden Oldies Glistening at Glastonbury

I wasn’t down in Somerset, but I know quite a few people who were rocking out at NERD, Lily Allen and errrm Bruce Springsteen. Now, neither they nor I were born in the USA, nor were we born to run, nor were even born, when Bruce was in his prime. But – for them watching him there in Somerset, and me watching here at home on the BBC – was an eyeopening experience.  Here was a star from another generation – a generation of rock n’roll, peace and love and Gardener’s Question Time – showing ‘young’uns’ how to have a good time. He even went over his set, still full of energy and vigour, crowd-surfing and slapping hands as he went like a mahoghany cowboy. Think what you might about the oldie crowd dominating modern music festivals, but stars like Springsteen sure know how to get things going (his foray into overtime ended with a fine which was – rather ironically – paid off by the festival’s organizer, Michael Eavis, who had enjoyed the set).

Also performing were Crosby, Stills and Nash (the beardy guys with the funky pagan logos methinks) and Neil ‘not-so-Young-but-very-talented’ Young.

Old Jersey: Bruces heyday involved posing in front of the flag shop
Old Jersey: Bruce's heyday involved posing in front of the flag shop


– Beautifully hot weather

– Beautiful sunshine

– Creepy criminality courtesy of the Crime & Investigation Network

Not liking:

– Stupid spammy @ replies clogging up Twitter thanks to Tweet Bots. Who thought up these literal, disasterous things?

– The NHS. Swine Flu is clogging up our clinics like the Ho Chi Minh trail.

That’s enough I think, I wouldn’t like to squeeze anymore Springsteen puns into this post…


x x x x

Short & Sweet

I’m doing exams. Yaaaay! Not.  Except, maybe it should be yaaaaay, because in 13 short days I get my freedom and a summer packed full of fun (hopefully) and change (definitely).

So here we go: short and sweet.

I’ve done a bit of redecoration with the site this month…the poll on the right is where you can tell me if I’ve made the right choice or not by going all scarlet woman on your asses! Ok, I just chose the same colour as my nail polish if I’m being honest here.

I’m ever the recycler, sooooo lets hear what I thought of The Wire back on May 15th when I sent this email to an unnamed music publication:

“The Wire is a massive in-joke.

I actually think said Wire is an allegory alluding to the metal garden implements which non Wire fans will all eventually use to end the lives of those who persists in labelling said ‘gritty and unmissable’ drama as errrm ‘truly unmissable’ and ‘totally gritty’, as though they were born with a copy of the Daily Mail’s Weekend magazine in their mouth.


I guess I just have a fear of time moving on without me…new crazes and hit TV programmes and nail polish colours which I have yet to try and will therefore brand hideous and so last season in order to appear the belle du jour. Take Gossip Girl. Tried the book – didn’t like it much so didn’t finish it. Whilst I’m wondering whether to dare to wear a denim jacket to a festival with new booties a la Kate Moss or Daisy Lowe or someone, other girls are watching GG.

”]Hot Gossip: Im always five steps behind [Ed]I’m not. So I brand GG “a poor girl’s [name of programme I am watching], and move on. Bad move, because next week people are swooning over Ed Westwick. I swoon as well, and start to wonder if GG is not a bad programme after all. I watch a little . It’s a bit of fun. Leighton Meester’s parents were drug smugglers according to Wiki. She is the ‘new’ underdog TV beauty…and I am about two years late.


Villain of the month: Why Barrymore is not my kind of person:

You might think this is a harsh way to start anything.Too subjective, too personal, too much of a bad pun. Why not pick on some of the other villainous creatures clogging up rehab centres in Copacabana? Have I ever met the man? No. Fortunately. But Susan Boyle has, and she is an incredibly talented individual. Britain’s Got Talent is usually a show which I stay well away from. I hate tacky programming BUT in a time of recession, male MPs claiming for tampons and such, SuBo and co. have provided some great entertainment. No, she didn’t win, but she will still have an amazing career in musical theatre, that I am certain of. As a great lover of BGT and musicals and therefore, SuBo, I was incensed to see the clip below. Yes, it was a long time ago. But Michael Barrymore is still a first class idiot for the way he acted when he ‘discovered’ Susan, who could’ve long been a star if it wasn’t for the arrogance of jumped-up tv ‘personalities’ like himself.


Hero of the month: How I was saved from agony by a pair of…

My friend’s Plimsolls. They’re having a renaissance among women, as I’ve noticed lately. However, I’m a fool, and chose to ignore this trend and wear heels to a party that ended up circumventing around a park. Luckily said friend is a boy, and they know everything. Said plimsolls were worn from that point onwards, and blisters were less inflamed than usual.


Eye-candy of the month: Channing Tatum

I think the chavtastic gif says it all. Channing Tatum has been claimed by them since we first saw him play the chauvanist but loveable hunk with a feminine side in Step Up. Went to see this guy in “Fighting” last (Orange) Wednesday. Bad film to say the least…token Hispanic girl played by a woman who I have seen play plenty of token Hispanic girls didn’t even brighten up the film on which I later Tweeted:

Icon_lock Fighting is a rip off of the classic violent underdog tale. Wooden and stunted plotless melee.

He gets the pity vote for eye-candy of the month, purely because he used to model for A&F and has obviously been taking acting classes at the same place as his cynical Senorita.


Adios…next time i’ll make it truly short and sweet when I blog about more music, more lifestyle and more awful films.


x x x x

The Lady Is a Tramp

…sang Lily Allen back in December when she appeared with other ‘celebs’ to see the new year in with Jools Holland. Was she singing about a certain ‘Lady’, or simply reciting a song chosen by her mangagement, is the baffling question which I would now love to disect, whether or not you actually care 🙂


In the blue corner, LDN’s Tesco-Alfresco Finest, Lily Allen

The obligatory fairytale: Once upon a time, an unconvincing indie ‘grimesterrrrr’ turned into an unconvincing LA dahling. First propelled to fame by daddy dearest after enjoying a supposedly awful unbringing, said ‘grimesterrrrr’ turned being a brat into her career.

Likes to… : Cringeworthily cry about how fat, ugly and talentless she is via MySpace like a 13 year old emo, cuss down other female celebrities, play dress up at boutiques, complain about ‘old men’ stalking her with ‘long-lens cameras’. Firstly, zoom is usually not a good thing (see Now’s ‘Circle of Shame’ etc…you know…VPLs, sweat patches, cellulite, etc). Secondly, not all paparazzi are old. In fact, some are young and date celebrities (admittedly only sleazy ones like Britney’s ex Adnan Ghalib…)

Most likely to say: I’m just a normal lundun gal, honest…ooh but Chanel shoes are amazing!!

In the red corner, LA-LA land fruit-loop Lady GaGa (1)…see also GaGa – (2) – noun, a liar or an impersonator, i.e.: Lily Allen pulled a GaGa last week…

The obligatory fairytale: There was once a singer who seemed to be the poster girl for post op success. In fact, she was a woman, but besides that she was totally fake, so much so that everything from her long ‘platinum’ hair (read: ‘peroxide and hair extension partayy’) to her KKK-at-Christmas costume (see right) may have made people assume she was once Little Mr Riding hood… Or in a No Doubt tribute band…

Likes to… : Party, presumably? She went to school with Paris Hilton, which seems to say a lot about this Lady’s attitude. ‘Just Dance’ definitely doesn’t ask to be followed with the words ‘but it’s 3am and I’m too tired!!’ I imagine that she practices her moves whilst doing ordinary stuff like say…walking over men wearing stilletos and busting into random houses (this didn’t take much of the video to said song to asscertain..)

Most likely to say: “Just Dance”, “Just Drink…Probably No Rohypnol In There”, “Just Get In The Kiddies’ Paddling Pool And Ride Shamu With Me”, “Just Rent Some Friends For The Night”…

HERE WE GO… takes an indepth look at the two high-living ‘heirheads’…:

It’s always been okay to have multiple occupations. Unless your name really is Martine McCutcheon, then you can be a singer moonlighting as an actress and vice versa; a reality TV star turned perfumer turned writer; you can even be famous just for the size of your assets, whether they’re paper, bricks or simply silicone. However, projecting an image of classiness and professional standard is always advised, first and foremost. How can one talk about money in the press let alone brag about a bank balance which makes Miley Cyrus’ paycheque look like child abuse?

1. Ange's pouty lips and hot hair scream smouldering screen siren, rather than just screaming like a siren

The trick is not to go in for all out P-O-S-H, whether you were born so or have recently acquired your squillions (the idea being that one obviously didn’t go to finishing school in Switzerland if one feels the need to prefix her name with a word with makes the real aristocracy cringe, (right Vickaaaay Beckham?) and if one did, then one obviously didn’t take much away from their education other than a Blackberry crammed full of viscounts and heiresses Pins…)

2. Paris shows that showing off isnt always necessary, in a £30 dress from Brit store Dorothy Perkins...
2. Paris shows that showing off isn't always necessary, in a £30 dress from Brit store Dorothy Perkins...

Anyhow, I digress. The idea is to hint to a life well lived rather then advertise it, neon sign and all. The Cuban cigars in the ashtray and the red soles of your Louboutins will tell your illustrious story without the ‘umms’, ‘likes’ and references to that ‘thing’ you had with Russell Brand.

(Not unless that actually IS the story…take note 2008’s Georgina Bailie (aka Andrew Sach’s granddaughter)).

Basically, it’s all about “keeping it real”…or giving the illusion that you’ve kept it real. Nouveau riche is a brassy and un-classy look, and, having heaped a title onto herself, I expected so much more from one such madame.

US export Lady GaGa – real name Joanne Stefani Germanotta – not only went to school with and dresses like Donatella Versace but also sings, quite repetitively, of her obsession with money (see “Money Honey”), fame (not just on title track “The Fame”), the paparazzi (eponymous ditty “Paparazzi” says it all), men (“Boys, Boys, Boys”), champagne (name checked a fair few times) and Hollywood (I just couldn’t listen to anymore of this pretentious twaddle by then, sorry).

Hearing her repeat “we’re beautiful and dirty rich” over and over again without a hint of sarcasm or irony or modesty or gratitude is quite depressing, honestly. In times of economic struggle, GaGa’s material obsession seems to amount to little substance. In fact, I think if you left this Stefani in a petri dish overnight, then maybe she would dissolve into a perfectly formed mountain of glitter.

I say this simply because she is glamourous, shiny and overtly sexual, yet totally and utterly boring. There’s less lyrical depth than the previously mentioned paddling pool on “The Fame”, and the title was annoyingly etched into her fly-eye glasses on the cover (because rich people do stupid things like that, surely?)

A true child of the mid-80s, she unfortunately still appears to erk back to a time when stress meant glamour, glamour meant money and money meant financial security and happiness in the bottom of an expensive bottle.

= modern day slavery...
= modern day slavery...

Oddly enough, the next single to hit (and consequently inflict GB onto) my ears after “Just Dance” (translation: Christina Aguliera rip-off writhes around and commands us to follow her in doing so for a tiring 4:10), was Lily’s latest, “The Fear”, from her new album “It’s Not Me, It’s You”. It is catchier than anything from the GaGa stable, yet annoyingly it is just another song about flashing the cash (and I mean this literally – in the video Lily parades around with dancing hotel staff à la Rick Astley). As for the astronomical amount of swearing which fag-ash Lil manages to pack into this 3:45 homage to money (and Gordon Ramsay?), I was totally appalled. That and her moronic, hopefully ironic, lyrics about learning that people die whilst mining diamonds. Did she bunk all of her Citizenship lessons, one has to wonder?

Being two girls who enjoyed privileged upbringings to say the least, both Lady GaGa and Lily Allen are doing a fantastically unconvincing job of sounding like the aforementioned grimy, dirty gold diggers, and are identical in every way, from their blunt eye-skimming fringes and hair extensions to their piss-poor lyrics.

I’d rather have real chavs turned princesses any day.

In fact, here’s the real winner:


x x x x

Watching: Mad Men…I sense an upcoming feature about this amazing show…

Activity of the week month: Tweeting about various things, which is totally not egocentric whatsoever.

Listening to: the sound of my own voice. N*Sync (no lie).