An Excuse To Riot?

For many years sports fans from all around the world have fought over the sport they love, from Argentineans to the British. Whether fans are from the same country or have travelled half way across the world to see their beloved team play, spats happen, which lead to brawls and then the inevitable riot occurs. After hearing about the recent riot in Vancouver, spurred on by the Canuks loss of the Stanley Cup final to the Boston Bruins, I started to consider sports and violence.

The Vancouver Canuks who were big favourites although only ever having won the title once, were expected to do well this season. Complete mayhem ensued after their 4-0 defeat, looting, fighting, car fires, acts that have only been seen once before in this city's history took over. Riot police were called in and tear gas was used, it has now been revealed that the cost of damages comes to around $5 million. A ridiculous sum of money that could have been spent in more effective ways now goes towards rectifying the chaos caused.

Sports teams in general, often have a following of a specific group of people that deem it necessary to show their solid support by clashing with the opposition. The main point being, is this really justified? Many people go to watch football matches, hockey games, with the intent to enjoy supporting their team from the sidelines. Frequent screams of overwhelming frustration or joy pass through the crowd, the use of foul language is excused as your ‘in the moment’ plus a sports game would simply not be the same without it. Others like to take it that much further however; "for the love of the game" becomes an excuse to get angry. Is this really an example to set to the future generation of sports fans? I think not.

Films like Football Factory and Green Street glorify antics of these groups of violent individuals. It’s not War, its sport, something that’s meant to be enjoyable to watch, a break from the mundane toils of day to day life. Maybe these men want to exhort their 'maleness’ and prove their dominance within their city/locale/league. Their team is the toughest, meanest, most worthy of the attention...more like a bad version of Rocky Balboa.

Danny Dyer presents a TV programme solely based on showing the catastrophic events that take place within football matches across the world. What is sometimes known as "the beautiful game" is anything but and Dyer's programme focuses on this aggressive behaviour, unlike Football Factory this shows how disappointing this is not impressive. Highly respected players of decades past such as Pelé, George Best, Bobby Charlton must think, where ever they may be, what has this world come to. When a game so simple ,now causes hate and anger it makes one think, is it worth it? There is already so much pain and suffering in this world, can any more be tolerated.

Again it needs to be reiterated, its sport, and sport by the definition should be recreational, a pleasant pastime to engage in. Not men using it as an excuse to compare whose the alpha male amongst the pack.

Of course there are some who take to it differently, as revealed in the now infamous photo of the 'Kissing couple’ from the riot on 16^th June, who sought solace instead of anger. They looked out of place, amongst a city at war over sports. Friendly rivalry is clearly a thing of the past. 

The Ultimate HD Experience

The Ultimate HD Experience.

High Definition is considered the epitome of luxury and sophistication in this day and age. How would you like to watch your favourite film or television programme? In HD, would be the reply. Flat screens around the country are no longer fuzzy, clarity is now impeccable as expectations are continuously raised, next stop 3D. With such intense scrutiny being placed on the viewers experience with radically changing technology, why should this not be applied to all aspects of life. 
 
2011 brings another year of new ways that help improve image, whether it be new beauty products, fad diets, and the latest in cosmetic surgery and beauty treatments. Men and women alike want the very best out of life, and want to look their very best whilst doing it. Who doesn't! Area of focus, the face. Skincare companies providing lotion fanatics with abundant wrinkle reducing formulas or the not so au-natural Botox injection/collagen, need not worry. For those trying to fight the years and remain youthful, there are all the choices in the world. 

Liz Earle, being my favourite at the moment is suitable for anyone with sensitive skin. The cream when applied is light, making it feel as though your face hasn't been rubbed in a vat of lard. A tiny amount goes a long way, remember less is more.

The eyes are the window to the soul and one of the first things that a man will notice about a woman. Do not neglect brows anymore ladies, when the rest of our body's are treated as temples (minus the few glasses of wine and G&T's). There will be no more over plucking, over waxing. No more pencil like lines in the form of eyebrows, say hello to the new HD Eyebrow Experience.

Whilst sitting waiting for the treatment to start, I realised never before had I taken time to go and get this part of my body tended to. On this note the talented lady began her work; the first step was to dye the brows.

The dye is applied for 15 minutes in order to tint them, to make them less patchy and more magnificent. I had been informed of this treatment by my mother who herself has just had her own eyebrows tattooed on. Her crazy plucking as a teen left her with little to none now.  After the cream came off cooling pads are applied under the eyes to sooth, and maybe to distract my attention away from the most intense care my eyebrows have ever experienced.

Waxing, which I’m not a huge fan of, came next. The hot wax was applied sparingly to the undesirable parts and quickly whipped off. Little pain, huge gain, if this was all it takes to make me look more glamorous then wax away! The next stage involved plucking, I just hoped I didn’t walk out looking like Joey from Friends. The lady is a goddess when it comes to efficiency and minimal pain, which in my book makes for a successful treatment. All the while talking the customer through the stages of transformation.

For the finale, save the best for last, Threading. For someone who has never had her brows waxed and relies on the trusty old tweezers this definitely came as a shock. On my travels one of my good friends had her legs threaded on a busy beach in Cambodia, with no hint of discomfort or unease. She must have had legs of steel, as soon as the therapist run that thread over my eyebrow I knew I wanted out. Whilst practical and innovative, this craze causes unusual agitation. 5 minutes in, she took pity on me and switched back to plucking and trimming the rest of the mess.

60 minutes later, half my face feels treated to within an inch of its life yet I cannot wait to see the end product. As the moment approaches the nerves set in, but with one glance in the mirror I am astounded. The impact of those few alterations had given my face a refreshing change. I continuously sung her praises as I left the salon, trying to catch glimpses of my face in any reflective surface, unable to get over how I looked.

For the whole session which on average takes an hour,  I walked away £30 lighter; however positive I look more like a Hollywood screen siren than I did before.

Little add on's come in the form of eyebrow pencils in the HD range. They help to fill in any of those minor discrepancies.

Next treatment on my to do list, tinting.

Aviators are for life not just for summer.

Whilst standing looking, fantasising, over what glasses I dream of purchasing. The only one my eye repeatedly focused on is the classic cop style Aviators, a style I have been wearing since I could buy my own.

On and off for years these glasses have featured in the summer style sections of magazines, and quarterlies, but have been the main focus of 2011. The reason why is simple. They capture a masculine sexiness (think Tom Cruise in Top Gun) that women can make work for themselves. Whilst coming at a pretty price they are a serious investment but THE must have item.

Ray ban, one of the bestselling companies, now have much pricier competitors such as D&G, Yves Saint Laurent, and Dior. They go for the fashion statement, producing edgy eyewear for summer, festivals, and holidays galore. With styles now including polarised lenses and better UV protection, the reasons against investing in a pair are slim to none. The style will never leave the fashion bibles, there’s no reason to deviate from the only pair I know and love.

Aviators are for life, look after them, care for them, cherish them and they will serve you well.

Fighting Fire with Fire

For many, our beloved capital is the city of the red double decker bus, classic architecture, and The Queen. Millions flock to Blighty every year to experience the vivaciousness and sparkle that London embodies. The London Olympics 2012 looks to be a positive influence for the city as a whole and its reputation, as well as for business owners throughout the area. Profits could soar if exploited in the right manner. Prospects for this city are endless, that was until Thursday 4th August 2011.

As a young Londoner was shot dead, and a peaceful protest outside the police station in Tottenham began, trouble brewed amongst youths. For years communitites have dealt with ‘hoodies’ terrorizing, threatening residents and committing crimes all around London. Children become accustomed to this kind of life style, they may even find it alluring. Becoming a member in a gang could give them the protection they think they need in life. Instead of trying to better the personal situation they may find themselves in, they think society owes them. Life is hard, you have to work at getting what you want, and nothing is handed to anyone on a plate. As Mark Twain (Huckleberry Finn) wrote, “Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first”. This is what these individuals fail to realise, fighting for what you want and succeeding, makes the victory taste that much sweeter. Anger penetrates their world and Thursday saw the ticking time bomb finally explode upon London, its citizens and businesses.

From Thursday evening until Tuesday morning, London saw sporadic rioting on the streets spreading from Tottenham to Hackney, Lewisham to Clapham. London had become a war zone, the enemy is no longer abroad, and the “enemy” comes in the form of children, children who have no idea how their actions implicate other lives and livings. News stations broadcasted constant coverage of the riots around London, showing images of buses, cars, houses, and businesses on fire. Children and young adults mobbed the streets, breaking into any shop that took their fancy. If there was something worth taking, there was no hesitation.

Chaos resumed from mid-afternoon on Monday 9th August until late into the night, Police were thin on the ground and unable to get to every riot point as it continued to spread from shop to shop. Photos of men antogonising officers were pictured as well as the infamous male in a grey hoodie featured on most newspapers Tuesday morning. When a female was asked if she was proud of stealing property she replied

“I’m getting my taxes back”.

The common belief would be that this woman has probably never completed a hard day’s work in her life, but of course help yourself to anything, you deserve it.

The mayhem caused from the police shooting a known drug dealer was unforeseen; no one was prepared for the public reaction. Those involved in the rioting used a death as an excuse to act in an aggressive and horrific manner, causing pandemonium. As the week began, reports came in from around England showing the young and unruly unleashing terror on other cities such as Birmingham, Liverpool, and Bristol. The mindlessness of the youth had spread and now others thought that copying was a clever idea, something they can tell the
grandkids about, assuming they live to do so.

16,000 police were deployed from the MET and surrounding counties to help restore calm and make residents feel safer in their homes, however it still seemed that many felt the police were ‘bystanders’ instead of a force to be reckoned with. The truth is, Police Officers have so many rules and regulations to abide by that when it comes to situations such as these it’s hard to confirm the right type of action to take. Tuesday night saw the rise of men around London taking it on themselves to patrol the streets. The aim - to help the police catch the thieves and criminals and ‘take back their community’. Many feeling restless and helpless during this exasperating time felt like another step needed to be taken in order to eradicate this behaviour.

If these are the voices of the next generation, I hope I live to see the termination of them. Respect is a distant concept in this day and age and children have yet to purchase a dictionary to understand the simple meaning. Let this be a warning of what’s to come.

Fiction: Relief

I wish that I felt like I was an active participant in my life, not skulking, waiting in the side lines similar to a spectator at a sports game. I should be cheering myself on, thriving with ambition, yet a thick dark cloud looms over my head, gradually increasing in size and weight. Soon it will feel as though I am Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, unable to find my balance or stability. I cannot let it get that far. The rain drums repeatedly over the window above my bed, whilst I lay surrounded by words, paper and my misery. Misery is nothing new, however it feels like it will drag me down an unmarked path and one day I will never find my way back. Things have to change, I need to change, I ponder this thought whilst blankly staring at my next assignment. My gaze flickers from this to my TV showing an old re-run of some American sitcom in which the protagonist is a beautiful buxom blonde, I feel even more ordinary. I move and check my phone, nothing, as to be expected. Surely life is more than meeting deadlines, re-runs and waiting for some kind of contact from anyone considered a friend.

"Lily" my mother's voice echoes off the walls into my room. I pull myself out of bed and follow it down the rickety staircase, " have you decided what you're doing for New Years Eve yet?". Sighing I drop down onto the worn brown leather sofa " I have no plans, no invitations, no nothing". My mother stares, finally rises, and clears her throat, declaring " Well whose fault is that, If you didn't hole yourself away and actually.." I cut her off before this entire tirade continued, ".. contacted anyone, I know" growling "I've heard this all before. I don't need this, or you telling me how pathetic my life has become, you. know. nothing" I seethed, clambering over the arm of the sofa, fleeing back to my seclusion.

Every action is controlled, I close my door carefully, walk over to my bookcase, kneel down on my hard wood flooring and retrieve an old cigarette box. Counting, I pull out notes and coins, "$670" I whisper to myself before giving in and collapsing on the floor. I am positive I have a few more dollars in my purse to add to the total I ponder to myself, utterly fed up with the situation I have found myself in at 23 years old. Change is inevitable I reason, the plan forming in the dark recesses of my mind feels like light at the end of the tunnel. My mind is made up, now just for the destination. I bought a new Atlas, taking it out of my bookcase, I stroked the red leather cover and brought it to my nose, it smelled fresh, new, full of opportunity. My sister made fun of me when I grabbed it off the shelf in the local bookstore, " Why the hell do you need that, plan on getting lost?" she joked as she leafed through a cook book, if only she knew how close she really was I chuckled, my mouth feeling tight with that unfamiliar expression.

Flopping down onto my bed I decided on how to go about finding my destination, running my chipped black thumb nail over the pages several times, I decided this was the one, and stopped as I reached near the end. Life has endless opportunities and it's time to fully explore them.........

Sports riots - an excuse to fight

For many years sports fans from all around the world have fought over the sport they love, from Argentineans to the British. Whether fans are from the same country or have travelled half way across the world to see their beloved team play, spats happen, which lead to brawls and then the inevitable riot occurs. After hearing about the recent riot in Vancouver, spurred on by the Canuks loss of the Stanley Cup final to the Boston Bruins, I started to consider sports and violence.

The Vancouver Canuks who were big favourites although only ever having won the title once, were expected to do well this season. Complete mayhem ensued after their 4-0 defeat, looting, fighting, car fires, acts that have only been seen once before in this city's history took over. Riot police were called in and tear gas was used, it has now been revealed that the cost of damages comes to around $5 million. A ridiculous sum of money that could have been spent in more effective ways now goes towards rectifying the chaos caused.

Sports teams in general, often have a following of a specific group of people that deem it necessary to show their solid support by clashing with the opposition. The main point being, is this really justified? Many people go to watch football matches, hockey games, with the intent to enjoy supporting their team from the sidelines. Frequent screams of overwhelming frustration or joy pass through the crowd, the use of foul language is excused as your ‘in the moment’ plus a sports game would simply not be the same without it.

Films, however, like Football Factory and Green Street glorify antics of these groups of violent individuals. It’s not war, its sport, something that’s meant to be enjoyable to watch, a break from the mundane toils of day to day life. It could be these men want to exhort their 'maleness’ and prove their dominance, spurred on by popular culture. Their team is the toughest, meanest, most worthy of the attention, more like a bad version of Rocky Balboa.

Danny Dyer presents a TV programme solely based on showing the catastrophic events that take place within football matches across the world. What is sometimes known as "the beautiful game" is anything but. Highly respected players of decades past such as Pelé, George Best, Bobby Charlton must think, wherever they may be, what has this world come to. When a game so simple, now causes hate and anger and it makes one think, is it worth it? There is already so much pain and suffering in this world, can any more be tolerated?

Again it needs to be reiterated, its sport, and sport by the definition should be recreational, a pleasant pastime to engage in. Not men using it as an excuse to compare whom the alpha male may be.

Of course there are some who take to it differently, as revealed in the now infamous photo of the 'Kissing couple’ from the riot on 16^th June. They sought solace instead of anger, looking out of place, amongst a city at war over sports. 


Friendly rivalry is clearly a thing of the past.

Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis

Wow, was the only thought after reading the last line of Scar Tissue. Anthony Kiedis has lived a life unlike most. His memoirs talk of his life experiences in a brutal and honest tone taking you on a journey of pain, dependency, love, inspiration. Seeing him fly high, to then hit rock bottom and lose sight of how fragile mortality is. His life is a tale of more up’s and down’s than one person should be able to handle but handle it he does. The one theme that prevails throughout is his pure love for music, self expression in any sense of the word, and the art of putting a pencil to paper and letting go. 

Listening to the RHCP’s lyrics directs you into his heart and soul. This book helps make the connections more tangible, every song has substance and reflects his extreme life. He struggled with these addictions for most of his life, but it never diminished his passion for music, nature, humanity. The power of a person’s spirit should never be doubted and Mr. Kiedis proves he has much more to give.

KOL - Hyde Park Summer 2010

Extreme anticipation coursed through the pub around the corner from Hyde Park with multitudes of fans pounding back the cider, as well as the obligatory shot of Tequila. Hyde Park, no longer a quiet and chilled space, had been turned into a haven for festival goers. Those who have not had the fortune of attending one yet revelled in the atmosphere. Equipped with drink, a KOL band shirt and sunglasses it was time to find the best spot to absorb the evenings festivities. The Drums were one of the support acts and proved to the restless audience why they earned their place on stage. With enthusiasm and skill they played their heart out through four of their up and coming songs.

The sun had started to set when Kings rolled out on stage with the confidence and relaxation of a band who knew what they were doing. Reading Festival was their last infamous gig that came to most memorys as well as the "fuck you" attitude. Most were seriously hoping they rocked the shit out of this venue....And how right they were. Caleb and co moved from one classic song to another, whilst the crowd screamed, jumped, moshed and drank until their hearts were content. Taper Jean Girl, My Party, and The Bucket were but a few of the favouirtes that were chosen to delight the thousands. The over played Sex is on Fire that catapulted them on to mainstream radio got the few moving that knew nothing of their other songs along with a chillingly good Crawl.

The one thing that made it different from any other gigs was the chance to sit on a random guys shoulders and look over the crowd. Vertically challenged people all over will know this feeling of exhilaration at seeing the masses of people moving as one to the sound that rocked the park.

Festival fever is now at its all time high and the countdown begins!

High School Musical vs. Glee - The Battle of the teen Musicals.

Whenever the High School Musical logo crops up around the city, or the sickly sweet smile of the blue eyed wonder boy formally known as Zach Efron manages to creep onto the television screen. I consider how one could survive so long without being converted into a giggly, doe-eyed fan. Then remembering personal taste, along with the desire to see something a little more risqué like Glee. The producers of Glee may have never thought to describe their show using that word, however in comparison to High School Musical, anything could be more thrilling to watch.

Glee comes from the same idea bubble that High School Musical or HSM derives from, meaning it includes singing and dancing. It is of upmost importance to stress the 'musical' element is not carried out randomly or halfway through a sentence which seems to be a particular reoccurring theme with the latter. Glee boasts well trained singers mixed with a slightly tacky and cringe worthy plot, yet still manages to add more sass and drama than Mr Efron and his fellow posse would ever be able to achieve.

Not everything is sunshine and rainbows in the Glee world. The attempt at promoting teen celibacy shows comical scenes of hormone driven teens attempting to follow God's righteous path, and wait until marriage, consequently all fails and the 'popular cheerleader' type falls pregnant by someone other than her boyfriend....shock horror. It then goes onto tearing apart the ideal of the American Dream. Marrying your college sweetheart does not mean your life will be fairy tale-esque forever. The sexy school teacher is in fact pinning for the shy, OCD colleague, whilst his 'pregnant' wife prays on the unsuspecting pregnant teen to try and get her to hand over the newborn after birth....social services would have a riot over this.

All in all Glee is a cesspool for illicit and deceitful behaviour, something everyone secretly loves to watch but is too shy to admit. HSM lacks raunchy dance routines, instead having to endure hours of love songs about fate. It's clear that not only Wisteria Lane holds all the secrets and intrigue behind closed doors . In the battle between the two, Glee wins hands down as life can go on without any attempt at sabotaging sanity or the value of life after the hour of jovial fun on a Monday evening.

The New Regime.

Whilst reading an article on ‘Man Tans’ with the famous image of the character Ross from Friends populating most of the page, I can’t help but feel women now have competition where grooming and maintenance of image is concerned. Men have, over the space of ten years, become alert to the fact that they too have to make an effort with appearance, physique, and general up keep.

Gyms now look to pull in male clientele with waxes for those with werewolf like problems, or mani-pedi’s that attract the conscientious men with the need to impress with their smooth skin, neatly trimmed cuticles and cash to afford such luxuries that most can not.

This goes without saying; no one likes their husbands, partners, current fling or unrequited lover to have certain alarming qualities such as B.O or Gorilla like bodies. I do pose the question however, what happened to the rugged, manly man who couldn’t care less which moisturiser he used in the morning, or when his next appointment in the Hair Salon would be.

It never used to matter if a man was ‘too pale’, that was something alone that women would be judged on. Tanning on holiday – acceptable, Spray tans for men – just plain weird. I know many men may read this and think ‘Hang on, double standards’ yadda yadda yadda, but women since the beginning of time have been told to wear this bone crushing corset to have a inhuman body, or have every inch of skin waxed (which is pure torture) to please men.

Fixing hair and makeup before leaving for the office, lunch and continually during the day has been happening for years in order for us to gain credibility, acceptance and sometimes our way with the male specie. So surely in 2010, it wouldn’t be too harsh after a whole lifetime of being looked at as sex objects to say, Man up!

The Curse of the Blackberry

As the world becomes more technologically advanced and companies thrive on competing against each other, creating the most innovative of products. Consumers foam at the mouth over what piece of technology will surely help to eliminate and kind of face to face interaction or physical movement of any kind…next thing you know, you won’t need to be in the same room as someone to have sex with them.

I always considered myself quite modern, but liked to think I wasn’t caught up on having all the new technology, apart from my Ipod and the trusty sky remote to watch re-run after re-run of Friends on E4. I even proceeded to tease my younger sister over her obsessive compulsive behaviour with her Mac and Blackberry or Crackberry that incidentally would make a nice permanent accessory when attached to her hand.

I pictured myself easily slipping into the boho/surfer chick with the “who needs ‘things’ “attitude towards life. This was until my father got an upgrade on his phone and gave it to me…and now begins The Curse of the Blackberry.

What proceeds to look like an unpretentious, fairly bland phone can literally ruin your life. No longer can I hold off my Facebook cravings because, surprise surprise the Blackberry has linked it into the phone via…lets guess..an app! I now not only receive texts and phone calls but am harassed by the little icon saying I have ‘one new notification’, which then leads to constant status updates simply because I can!

My emails get forwarded to my phone, meaning I can no longer go on blissfully ignoring my inbox. It even means I am contactable instantly by BB Messenger..could life get any worse..the answer is yes.

Now phones are banned from the dinner table as me, my dad and sister have our faces glued to the never ending stream of messages that bombard the Blackberry every live long day.

Where have the days gone when a phone could do two things I hear you say? Sadly those days are far far behind and now life depends on one small inanimate object that a company thought would create demand…need…addiction.

Thanks Blackberry, now my life revolves around that one little red blinking light.