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Archive for March, 2008

If glamour is the ability to cast a sexual spell, Annie Leibovitz’s photographs have all the magic of a mute glove-puppet panda with a middle-aged man’s hand stuffed up it’s arse. Her famous photographic tableaux of the blue-blooded and the beautiful, now showing at the National Portrait Gallery and featured in a commemorative online Vanity [...]

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Whatever Davenport or Nyetimber would have us believe, wine is intrinsically unEnglish. Historically comfortable supping small beer in hose down the Rose, or wassailing with mead in old Heorot, our palates are primed for the musk of hop and malt, the crisp juice of juniper and apple. Essentially barbarians, we; the grape is the [...]

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No, I’m not ignoring you. It’s nothing to do with that business with the cilice and the rabbit; I thought that was rather sweet, and certainly original.
In fact, sir, the Blonde exploreth, cruising from that veriginous Cisco town glittering with foggy bay and natty gay to the dust-dank tawny depths of that sere, scrubby valley [...]

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