The Daily Doodle: Tony comes out

Wayne Rooney- Scandal, Strumpets, and The Stig

Well, it has been a week of revelations in our great country and with news this morning of England sporting hero Wayne Rooney’s frolics with a young maid whom is not his beloved wife; it seems to show no signs of abating.

Yes, according to two Sunday papers of great standing and reputation, England footballing star and meatball lookalike Mr Wayne Rooney has apparently confessed to his wife (the smiley girl who lots of clothes) that he spent several nights with a girl of the unsavoury sort during his wife’s pregnancy. He apparently met the strumpet in June last year and over the following months spent a considerably amount of time (and money no doubt) with girl who calls herself ‘Juicy Jeni’ and charges £1,200 a night (quite a whack considering her photo).

This is not the first time the young footballing star has sparked controversy over his love life. In 2004 it was rumoured that he frequented brothels as a 16 year old and he freely admitted to paying a 48-year-old grandmother for sex.

His new young squeeze has said, ‘As a woman, I wouldn’t want that done to me – especially if I was pregnant.’ Juicy Jeni, real name Jennifer Thompson is from Bolton (somewhere up North) and seems an absolute delight and as we’re sure you can tell, is not just in it for the money and notoriety. ‘You can either love me or hate me! Don’t really care what people think. I’m young free and single and loving life’ the slapper said.

Naturally, speculation is rife as to weather the young man’s exotic life style effected his performance at this years World Cup competition which was considered by many to be rather pants. It has also thrown into doubt his appearance for Tuesday’s next match in Switzerland.

England won their opening Euro 2012 qualifier this week with a 4-0 win but it seems like many of the players are enjoying scoring little too often off the pitch.

Anyone would think these chaps were paid too much.

In other news, Ex Prime Minister and Cheshire cat impressionist Mr Tony Blair was pelted with eggs and shoes (but not those precious potatoes we hear so much about) at a book signing in Ireland yesterday. In the self penned autobiography ‘A Journey’ Mr Tony Blair admits to the difficulties his successor Mr Gordon Brown as well as affirming his beliefs in God and admitting he’s The Stig.

Liz’s Musings – Baby Names

Ladies, we all heard the news last week about our prime minister and his lady wife Mrs Samantha Cameron giving birth to their 4^th child. For some reason, it took Mrs Cameron rather a long time to name the little bundle of joy. I don’t know about you but I think its rather odd that the baby remains unnamed, didn’t Mrs Cameron review her parents’ copy of ‘Baby Names’ when she was but a young girl? I know I spent hours deciding on names for boys and girls, and when little Alfred Winston and Harriet Marjory do come along there will be no confusion over names… it just seems sensible. Still, they eventually settled on Florence Rose Endellion as the girls name. Now, I’m not one to judge but one can’t help but wonder that the Cameron’s have not thought through the implications of naming their baby Florence let alone Endellion (a small hamlet near to where the baby was born with very few houses and a sewage treatment facility). When little Florence is older, and her siblings have offspring of their own, are any of her nieces and nephews going to count down the days until Aunt Flow comes to visit. I think not. The poor, poor girl.

There may be trouble ahead

Today, the Institute for Fiscal Studies announced that the Coalition Government’s new ‘emergency budget’ would affect the lower classes hardest. Not that we care about the lower classes but this is a huge blow to a government which seems to be struggling to find it’s feet. With Mr Nicolas Clegg still at the helm, one can’t but fear that we are well and truly heading towards a steaming pile of the brown stuff.
Poor Mr Clegg is receiving the brunt of the opposition’s attacks and with news last week that the Liberal Democrats have had to employ many new staff members to proof read and check the Conservative policies to make sure that the Conservative policies are in line with the Liberal Democrats one can see why. It looks like Mr Clegg is in for some more rough and tumble this week as talks of defections are rife. With one MP already switching sides Mr Clegg must be wondering where it all went wrong. It was around about the 12th May Nick.
Conservative leader (oh, and Prime Minister) Mr David Cameron announced the birth of his fourth child yesterday whilst on holiday in Cornwall. Mr Cameron described the new arrival as ‘absolutely thrilling’. One Cornwallian left a message for Mr Cameron at his holiday home: ‘Congratulations to you Mr Cameron, now would you kindly sod off and fix this f***ing country.’ West Country folk eh?
In transport news, the London Underground network is set to be hit by a series of strikes and walkouts over jobs. Beginning on the 6th September and running until they get bored or fired, the strikes will cause havoc yet again to our capital and forecast predict that the economy could lose millions more because of the action. All we need now is a postal strike before Christmas and then I think that’s a full house. Hurrah!

And finally, Great Britain’s most enduring television skid mark, Big Brother reached it’s climax last night to the relief of anyone over the age of 13. Unfortunately, they then proceeded to fill the house with obnoxious housemates from previous years, all of which are in need of an unwelcome career boost. God save the Queen, and indeed us all.

The Daily Doodle: “This is a big inconvenience for me”

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Our News Blackout (or holiday)

You may have noticed that the Gentlemen’s News blog has not been updated for a while. We would like to tell you that the reason for this is that we have been secretly working on a news story so big that it has taken all our time and energies. That is as ground breaking as it is controversial. We would also like to tell you that secret government agencies have been trying to block our publication of this news story. Unfortunately this is not the case. We’ve actually been on holiday getting brown and fat.

We understand that many of you have been left lost and bereft because of our news blackout but let us assure you that like a good old tin of Spam, we will always be there when you have no-where else to turn.

So stay tuned and trust in Charlie!

The Gentlemen’s Review :Inception World Premier

There are NO spoilers in this review (or mentions of the Liberal Democrats for that matter)

What with our mammoth tour of Great Britain currently in full swing, it was a great relief to return home to the great city of London and tread the red carpet at the world premier of Inception last week.

It’s nice to know that the Gentlemen’s News is becoming a well respected and valued contributor to the world of news and all things interesting and we were both humbled and honoured to be offered tickets to the world premier of this summer’s most eagerly anticipated film.

To be honest, we hadn’t even heard of the film and we were a little unsure whether or not to attend to damn thing but when they offered us free popcorn we were sold.

Red carpets are funny affairs at the best of time, but when the event is a world premier, the press and public seem to turn out in droves and scream and chant at the tops of their voices in a most unbecoming way. Still, many people have been chomping at the bit to see this film and at some point in our lives we all go a little overboard with the things and people we admire (the Kylie concert of ’94 was to die for).

Leicester Square was all decked out and the fans were ten deep in some places trying to get a quick glance at the stars of the film. We waved our passes and walked along the red carpet (which wasn’t red at all but more of a green and brown criss-cross pattern which was most unnerving to walk along) trying to avoid the myriad of autograph hunters, paparazzi and acne-clad teenage girls all thrusting their cameras and notebooks into our faces.

To my surprise, we were actually recognised and so had to pose for a couple of quick photographs and a bit of chit chat with a couple of scrupulous reporters asking what I was wearing and who I had brought. -For the record, I was wearing a suite and I had brought a guest.

After we had taken our seats and secured our hipflasks in easy reach it was time for the stars to walk on the stage for what is a very strange part of the evening. Basically, a big wig from the ‘company’ (in this case Warner Bros) stands in the centre of the stage and the principle actors are introduced one by one and walk uncomfortably to his side waving all the way. Poor Ellen Page (who is about the size of my thumb) appeared to be wearing her mother’s stilettos and so had to walk Dick Emery-esque to her position before being helped off by one of the other actors.

The film is Directed by Mr Christopher Nolan and many have said that this is his finest work to which we would concur. It stars that American bloke from the film about the sinking ship but is littered with great British talent and what with Mr Nolan helming the project as both writer and director we feel that Britain should take full credit for this fantastic film.

Without spoiling the plot for you, the story is about dreams, or the infiltration of dreams to be more precise. Sinking Ship Chap plays a character who’s job it is to infiltrate your dreams and ‘extract’ information. It all sounds rather complicated and to be honest, the film is not designed to be easy to follow (certainly not after a few pre-show whiskeys anyway) but we encourage you to hold out and let the film run it’s course as it truly is a work of genius both in concept and execution. Mr Nolan has the deftest of touches when it comes to film and it seems that his vision has been both beautifully captured and acted by all members of this remarkable piece. The youthful and talented cast easily hold their own alongside their more established colleagues and gel together into a seamless ensemble. All the character are well thought through and each gets his or her chance to shine and excel in set pieces and stand out moments. Joseph Gorden-Levitt in particular shines as for a long period of the film he his weightless and hardly speaks and yet those moments where tense, original and spectacularly shot. The haunting and touching scenes between Sinking Ship Chap and his French squeeze will linger long after the credits have rolled.

This film may not be to everyone’s tastes and there are certainly a lot of things blowing up and ‘bending’ round but I’m sure that the many depths and layers of this great and well woven story will keep you gripped right through till the end.

Well done Mr Nolan. Well done.

Cigar Rating:

The Gentlemen’s Tour of Great Britain: Liverpool

Once again it seems we underestimate any city outside of London. I had terrible, preconceived ideas of Liverpool and when I arrived I was ready to fend of the hordes of shell suit wearing, drunken locals with my cane and a sharp word or two. It seems that neither was needed as Liverpool was a complete surprise from the off.

Now, there is a lot of construction work going on in the centre of Liverpool but unlike Manchester (see our previous postage) it was far less obtrusive and seemed to have a point.

Liverpool is a city with history but from my point of view, seems to be looking to it’s future rather than it’s past. Yes, the docks are still there and of course the magnificent cathedral is as striking and dominant as it is majestic and beautiful. But there is also a sense of going forward in what I assumed would be a backward city. New buildings are being constructed throughout the city centre, all contrasting and contemporary, yet they seem to fit in well with the architecture already prominent. The Three Graces stand on the docks like sentinels watching over the Mersey and a ‘fourth Grace’ (a black monolith of a building) is being erected to stand side by side with it’s famous neighbours. Liverpool One, the new and expansive shopping heart of the city, is a testament to design with its large open plan and pedestrianised walkways and it’s surprising green landscaping at its pinnacle looking over the docks and the dark river.

The city is synonymous with culture and this is evident as you walk along the streets with nods to the Beatles here and there and a multitude of galleries, museums and exhibitions which could please even the snootiest of critic with its selections of classic, modern, and contemporary art.

I stayed in a wonderful hotel in Princes Dock which served me eggs Benedict worthy of The Queen for breakfast. With the hotel situated on the dock is was also peacefully quite (although the city was quiet as it was a Sunday evening).

Most of the next morning was spent walking the streets of this city trying to understand the local dialect and choose which one of the many restaurants I would eat in. I plumbed for a local eatery and also enjoyed a lovely cup of tea and a slice of Lemon cake at the Brew Tea Bar which I would highly recommend to anyone passing by.

Once again, all too soon, my time was up in this fair city. I checked out of my hotel, put on my driving gloves and asked Mr Thomas Thompson the way to Birmingham.

It was all South from here….

A quick stop off on the way to Birmingham in St Helen's to see the Dream Statue. -Fabulous

The Gentlemen’s Tour Of Great Britain: Manchester

For those of you who have never driven along the Snake Road in the Peak District (who has?) it is an absolute must. A thrilling drive of twisting corners, sheer drops and breathtaking scenery. A true credit to the people of the North that this remarkable landscape has been left largely untouched and under developed. The few villages and hamlets I passed along the way were a picturesque as a toffee box lid and I struggled to reign in my desire to stop and try out the truly charming public houses that appeared along the road in the strangest of locations. As I reached the height of the Snake Road and began my decent, I caught my first glimpse of my destination. Manchester.

I struggled to find the hotel and my trusted guide Mr Thomas Thompson found the one way systems a beast to navigate. There also seemed to be a devilish amount of road and building work going on which proved a trifle annoying. Still, the hotel was once again tremendous and I couldn’t have wished for better.

As it was only mid afternoon, I took tea near Victoria Station and watched that Scottish bloke being knocked out of Wimbledon again before taking a stroll around the city. I met some ever so friendly gentlemen along Canal Street who were very persistent in their attempts to lure me into the many bars that lined the street but I resisted as I knew that time was precious and I wanted to experience as much of the city as I could before we had to move on however, I was in for a shock when I reached the end of Canal Street.

-Ladies! (and for those with a nervous disposition) Please do not read on-

Now, I am a Gentleman of a certain age and I have seen a fair few sights in my time (The crowning of our illustrious Queen, The beheading of a Tsar, a Liberal Democrat in Downing Street) but never before had I seen the sight of two women in what can only be described as an intimate embrace of love bent over a bollard. I stood, shocked and appalled for what could have been only a few minutes when one of the young ladies noticed me. I was about to call for a policeman but before I had time to put away my hipflask and camera the two women raised a finger and let forth a tirade of foul abuse from their potty mouths and moved on!

Still in a state of shock and in need of something to take my mind of the whole damned affair, I headed for ‘curry mile’. What a bewildering array of restaurants and lights the ‘curry mile’ is. Each eating house was decorated differently but their menus seemed to be identical. I found this all very strange and disconcerting and was just about take the plunge and go in ‘The Fat Ladies Dragon Beard’ when a voice behind said ‘you want salmonella?’. I turned and asked the gentlemen to repeat himself. ‘You want salmonella’ he said again. ‘No, I do not’ I replied. ‘Then don’t eat on Curry Mile.’

Turns out this chap was also from London but had lived and worked in Manchester for the past ten years. He had seen the city change and grow over this time for the better and for the worse. He escorted me off the ‘curry mile’ and instead took me to the student quarter and introduced me to the youth of the city. What eager minds this young folk were. Between shots of ‘flaming sambucas’ and mouthfuls of ‘curly fries’ I really felt as though I got a taste of this magnificent city and have to say that part of me admired their attitude of enjoying life and all that it has to offer.

We ended up in a curry restaurant near the halls of residence where I tried the house special which practically blew my face off and am currently still suffering from (I haven’t been able to sit properly for 24 hours).

I slept soundly in my bed and the next morning I headed off and looked around Old Trafford (which is famous for a football club of some name) and had a final quick look around the city centre before once again heading off on my adventures to Liverpool…

The Gentlemen’s Tour Of Great Britain: Sheffield

And so our whirlwind tour of Britain’s finest cities continues…

After an exceptionally long drive from Brighton (see yesterday’s post) I passed the Watford Gap and so waved goodbye to the safety of the South and headed to the perilous North. Traffic was heavy but our trusted car kept me on the right path and our ever so clever transport adviser Mr Thomas Thompson led me safely to Sheffield.

To be brutally honest, I wasn’t holding out much hope for the ‘City of Steel’ but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I arrived at the hotel (situated next to the football ground) in the early evening and checked in to our delightful room. The view might have been of the football ground’s car park but the room itself was as comfortable and airy as one could have wished.

After hanging up my freshly pressed smoking jacket and putting on my tie I headed down to the restaurant to see what took my fancy. The delightful little strumpet of a waitress showed me to my seat and handed me the lavish menu. Texture of peas (rather like a pea jelly with mint and a poached egg) followed by Beer Battered Fish and Chips (well, when in Rome). Delicious and beautifully presented. I had no room for desert and so skipped straight to the bar to try out the whiskey selection. –needless to say I slept well that night.

In the morning I headed out with hat and cane into the City Centre and perused the local shops. Although Sheffield is apparently England’s fourth largest city, it certainly didn’t feel so. I decided to skip the ride on the ferris wheel (a miniature London Eye) and instead took tea in the Winter Gardens. I chatted with a few of the locals and what a delight they were. Although most of what they said was incomprehensible to my more delicate ears, I got the gist that these folk were exceptionally happy with their city and saw it as one of the brightest jewels of the region. Sheffield is in the running for the City Of Culture and I can certainly say it is worthy of the nomination. With an array of museums, theatres and picture houses, Sheffield is certainly a city that is as enchanting as it is entertaining.

And so, after a late lunch and a lecture on the life and times of Sean Bean, I returned to our little car and set off along the Snake Road to my next destination, Manchester….