Boris backs Thatcher over golliwog sacking.

Russian ex-KGB agent Alexander Lebedev is to buy the London Evening Standard newspaper for the sum of £1.

The paper’s publisher – the Daily Mail & General Trust (DMGT) – said it had agreed to the sale of a majority interest in the paper to Mr Lebedev.

The billionaire businessman is believed to have made an offer for approximately a 76% share of the paper.

He has previously revealed that he used the paper to find out information when he was a young spy based in London.

The Evening Standard has vied with the Daily Mail for the “most odious rag in Britain” award for some time. The fact that it is out of step with so many Londoners’ views has left the good freebies (eg Metro) with a clear run. Personally, I think Metro is a far better paper that the Standard, in every way. And now the Standard has its very own Murdoch, in the shape of an ex-KGB Russian oligarch owner. Be afraid!

Full story on BBC news here.

Today is Blue Monday, and considering yesterday was my birthday.. I know exactly what they mean.

Yes Boys and Girls. it is the worst day of the year! But lovely James and the Optimists Society (do you remember them?) have a cure.

Reclaimation of the most depressing day of the year will be taking place in various events and locations across the capital, with the main event being held at the Comedy Store. There you will find a laughter workshop. rumour has it there is SPACEHOPPERS, motivational seminar by the “The Gansta Motivator” that cannot be missed, as well a laughter workshops and laughter Yoga.

So don’t be miserable. Join us, the Beeb and get with the International Optmist Day vibe and turn yourself orange!

Grin and Beat it- The Optimist Society
13:00 – 14:30

The Comedy Store
1a Oxendon Street
Picadilly Tube

“We are Londoners, embrace the Londoness!
We want you to come dressed as a visual interpretation of a tube station – a blacksmith with a large hammer for Hammersmith, a manchester clown for Piccadilly Circus or James Bond for Bond Street etc.
You get the idea, so be as creative as you can, with one exception. NO ANGEL COSTUMES, Angel Islington is off limits as it’s closed for engineering works! Seriously, angel costumes would be super-lame.
It’s the end of January, you’ve had enough time to detox and break those resolutions. Kick those blues and come and get trollied with us whilst dressed as an impeccable vision of a tube station, oh yes there will be dancing in the basement of the bar too if you’re hardcore enough.
Prizes for best costume in ludicrous categories and a few games to be played too if you can find them!

Sat 31st January, 7:30pm-2.00am
Zebranos at the Establishment (not the one off carnaby street)
18 Greek Street, Soho, London, W1D 4DS

Free before 10pm, £9 after. Mention Bring Stuff at the door to queue jump.
Come find us at the back of the bar, don’t forget your oyster cards.”

I already know what I’m going as… its going to be Absolutely Fabulous…(hint hint) and for those of you who dont know them all off by heart, here is a list of all the Stations currently open (Not sure if DLR is allowed).

I went to Legoland Windsor a few weeks back. Rain, queues, expense, queues… you get the picture. The kids loved it. But I was amused to see that the personnel at London City Hall have been updated. Boris, Ken: there they are…

I thought I was going to be a Radiohead widow on Tango Tuesday. Kirmann had managed to get a ticket for PJ, but there was no joy for me. At the last possible minute, Mitlepunkt came through with a dodgey eBay purchase.

“Go to ‘We Will Rock You’ and call this number,” he says. So, we go to the place and call the number, and the guy says “I’ll be down in 5 minutes.” Five minutes later, an Indian bloke dressed like an off duty investment banker comes down and hands us the tickets. Then he disappears into the crowd.

We walked from Mile End to Victoria Park…all 15,000 of us. Saw this nice little church along the way. Arriving at Victoria Park, the police were out in force herding us through with British queuing efficiency.

Then we were in the park. Kirmann was on the phone constantly before the concert. Claire is pregnant, and she could pop at any minute. Mitlepunkt had worn shorts and a shirt and was freezing his ass off, but he was soon distracted by the sausages. It was a festival atmosphere. Food stalls, beers, people lounging on their blankets with coffee and wine and spliffs.

I have to say, going back to the food: it was gross and expensive. PJ couldn’t finish his sweet and sour. The smart people were the ones who had brought a picnic. Gates opened at 4 p.m., and it had been glorious weather. Almost like they had planned it like this so near the summer solstice.

The light show started early…before dark, and people started to get up and excited with anticipation.

Then, there they were. I remember Thom saying: “what’s going on with you mad people down here?” His rapport is lovely…like a bloke who’s playing a gig for his mates in his back garden: quiet and shy…but funny.

The dredlocked girl standing next to me lit up a spliff, and all was well. I had been working my ass off over the past week or so, and I was tired…nearly too tired to dance, but I put in an effort. A lot of people were talking, and I thought if I danced I might be able to get other people to dance and consequently shut the fuck up and listen to the music. I mean, you paid £40 for the tickets. Shut Up!

A teenager and his parents were in front of us, the dreaded ones to the right and a humping couple to the left…dirty dancing every time a slow song came on. “No humping in public,” I screamed. Mitlepunkt and Ofra and Giza were bringing up the rear.

The main display was made up of hanging rods with a light show playing against them. It reminded me a bit of Mariko Mori’s Dream Temple. The side panels were divided into four smaller screens with close up on each band member. They were like moving album covers. PJ didn’t like it too much. He wanted to see the band, but we were too far back, and the stage was too low. Didn’t want to get up close because, frankly, I’m too old for that. And, as I said before, I like to dance.

The sound was amazing. And Thom’s voice is strong like an ox. You don’t get that from the records. You think is voice is so fragile…like it’s gonna break with emotion and pain and anger at any second. But when you hear him live, that emotion surges into a wave that crashes down on you commanding you to move, goddamnit, do something.

Then, it was over and we started to long trek home. It was nighttime, and we were practically skipping through the park. It felt like what it must have felt like hundreds of years ago after a Bacchanalian romp in the forest. We hit the gates, and it was gridlock with middle class people talking about how the council should do something about this. A car was caught in the sea of people.

We decided to try Bethnal Green station, but it was packed. Went for the bus, but packed. Then walked to Liverpool Street station, where we got the bus back to Covent Garden.

Thanks Radiohead for the lovely time. Hope to see you again soon.

What the hey-hey? His family calls him Alexander.

“When I was three months pregnant, we travelled to Mexico City by Greyhound bus. It was very uncomfortable, I was desperately sick. We stayed with a man called Boris Litwin, who drew me aside and said: ‘You can’t travel back like this, here are two first-class air tickets’.

I was so grateful, I said: ‘Whatever the baby is, I shall call it Boris.’”

In fact, she named her firstborn Alexander Boris de Pfeffel.

Well, he can’t be a toff if his parents went to Mexico City on a Greyhound bus, surely?

Also I’m surprised that he’s so keen on the Routemaster, with his mother to remind him of the difficulties that disabled bus users face.

All this and more at The Telegraph.

We saw God aka Sean drink a pint of Guinness after clearly saying eearlier that he didn’t do drugs, oops sorry beer. I wa shocked, but after he bought me a beer I let it slide.

Have you met him too? Share your thoughts. Meanwhile here’s a random photo.

Sean

So, yes, it was a bit bizarre for a Monday lunchtime. Somehow I had been let in to this Al Gore speech at the London Film School. He was there to launch his new TV venture in the UK: Current TV. There were no more than 100 of us, and I thought, people would probably pay big money for this seat. I called the Guardian to see if they would let me do an exlusive, but there was already one of their guys there. Damn. Then there were the sexy lettuce girls protesting outside of the school, which was even more bizarre as they were nearly naked. “Put some clothes on, girl,” I shouted. “It’s the man who should have been king”

Before the speech, I sneaked up to where Gore and his entourage and the Governors of the school were snacking. Insinuating myself into the receiving line, I stuck out my hand. This is it…this is the moment when you get to speak to a man who was the 2nd most powerful man in the world. Say something bloody good. “Hello Mr. Gore. My name is Daneeta Saft. I’m an alumni of this school and a filmmaker based in London. I am really looking forward to your talk.” Totally Lame. I should have shouted “you were robbed.”

It was actually quite a good speech, and, it’s true what they say about him. He is funny, and he can hold a crowd. And, he actually offered us jobs…all of us. It seems that anybody with a camera and a computer can upload their factual stuff to the Current TV site and submit your stuff to audience approval. If the audience doth approve, you will get you stuff on the TV channel and get paid. Bril…generating content for no money in the hopes that it will someday bring you money is my middle name.

Oh yeah, and I think this story scoops the Guardian.