Oh dear, I don’t know what is worse. The Gossip’s dead dull, safe and predictable tunes (ouch) or Beth Ditto’s attempt to become a budding fashion designer? Err…would seem the latter judging by these pictures of Ditto’s plus size range for highstreet store Evans…

This shapeless jumpsuit is making my eyes bleed, ironic really considering Beth’s boring beats often have the same effect on my ears. Seriously this jumpsuit is the definition of hideous! No one in their right mind would dare wear this, not even in the dark. How on earth is this cut and style suppose to create a flattering shape and slim a larger figure? It does the complete opposite. None of the pieces reflect Beth Dittos personal fierce and bold unique style, which is very disappointing for her fans. Many which adore Beths colourful costumes, so I’m curious how exactly did miss Ditto bag this fashion design gig? Its certainly not because she can actually design, this sure is evident. So how did Ditto get the opportunity to design for Evans, more importantly why? When she lacks all basic design skills. Yet there are thousands of unemployed fashion grad’s desperate for a fashion design job, all of which have a wide range of fashion design knowledge. Is  this design collaboration and decision really justified? Of course it is.

photo:Beth with her fashion buddies

Beth Ditto doesn’t need to have one single fashion design bone in her body, not when her new best friend forever is clothes horse Kate Moss, hooray for old Kate! Who just so happens designs for Topshop, churning out the same old, same ‘vintage inspired’ floral print frocks and ‘rock chic’ T-shirts and plain black skinny jeans. I can’t help but suspect Kate (whos other best  buddies just so happen to be, dapper Karl Lagerfeld and the big boss of Topshop Sir Philip Green. ..Oh he also owns Evans) has had more of an influence and involvment in this Evans collection than Beth herself. Amusing really: considering stick thin Kate has probably never even entered Evans. This latest highstreet stunt is being hailed as the best thing to happen since Kate (me, me , me) Moss  mucked in and pulled out her drawing pencils (to of course create design sketches, these celebs don’t simply print and attach their name onto labels you know?) for Topshop. Evans are praying Beth Ditto’s jumpsuits can save the day, and transform Evans frumpy image. Making Evans a favorite and serious highstreet contender, despite its plus size clothes tags. Though it isn’t the size 14 plus clothes tags that are Evans main problem (many women are a size 14 in the UK). Its the fact Evans are oblivious to  fashion trends, refusing to stock fashion items and popular styles seen in every other highstreet stores.Getting Beth on board isn’t the answer, many girls are offended by Evans even selecting Beth Ditto as their plus size fashion icon and fashion muse, ‘Ergh Beth Ditto! The one who let it all hang out on that magazine, why did they choose her for? They could of asked another more fashionable famous girl to help them make this place trendy and cool. Like Holly Willoughby? ‘ This is the shocked and baffled response I recieved when I asked an Evans customer what they think of the launch of Beth Ditto’s collection for Evans. Clearly not very impressed. Is it a case of Beth Ditto sticking with her day job?

Beth Ditto For Evans out July10.

Controversy continues to undermine Westminster, as the increasingly inept and unpopular government finds itself facing more embarassments with each passing day. It’s possible that no prior government has ever found itself in such disarray. Ministers dropping like flies, more and more senior figures being exposed, and now talk of a coup by Labour MPs wanting to dethrone Gordon Brown. Mr Brown strains his ear, hearing in the wind a ghostly voice, saying “beware the Ides of March…”

Beware the Ides of March

The local and European elections will almost certainly see a wave of reactionary shifts in political allegience, and the sane can only hope those shifts are to the left and not the right.  If there’s any justice (or intelligence in this electorate), the Lib. Dems will WALK the next general election.

No one will be walking any election down China Way, however, where Chinese Democracy is still just a Guns N’ Roses album (a kick-ass one, though). On the twentieth anniversary of the Tianemen Square massacre, the authorities are preventing people from publicly commemorating the event. The Chinese government has clearly evolved less than believed in twenty years, the principles of freedom and democracy still consigned to wandering the wilderness, disembodied, like the Hebrew Shekinah, waiting for its hour.

Not George Bush

But like a light shone into the darkness, the upside of fully functioning democracy is alive in Barak Obama. His state visit to Egypt prompts a mixed bag of reactions, however; negative on the appearing-to-appease-an-oppressive regime front, but somewhat positive on the more sympathetic attitude towards the plight of the Palestinians. Obama, evidence suggests, has a much better platform in the Middle East, primarily on the basis simply that he is not George Bush. But his sympathetic language towards Palestine and towards the Islamic world in general is in essence an overdue repair-job on the crumbling edifice of America’s image in the Arab world after eight years of Neo-Con Richard the Lionheartisms. Like all international politics, it’s all condescension, mutual play-acting, and will be painfully slow in the solutions department, but it’s a new start, at least.

Of course, none of this matters quite so much as the onset of Big Brother 10. What could be more compelling than three months of watching a handpicked two dozen of the most unlikeable, unendearing people in the country ritually having arguments about food provision, throwing hissy fits, and generally being irritating or obnoxious, all in the hope of their fifteen mili-seconds of fame? With one notable (and deceased) exception, NO ONE from the dreary annals of this show is going to be remembered in a few years time.

Susan Boyle, however, will probably be remembered in a few years time, if not for talent or singing ability. Now she’d had a breakdown and has been rushed to the priory. In some perverse way, it actually makes sense; the quickest rise to celebrity ever is followed by the quickest going-off-the-rails routine ever. Maybe from now on this is how sped-up celebrity by-the-numbers sagas are going to be. Her biography will be in all good bookshops by September, at the very least. Her album certainly will be out before then; exhaustion or not, the corporate music industry isn’t going to afford such a commodity any opt-out clause. The commercial window of opportunity is too brief and narrow for a delay; her fame needs to be milked before next year’s rags-to-riches story comes around.

To be or not to be...?

And, on the subject of breakdowns; Paul Gascgoine has allegedly fallen off the wagon. He really should stop getting on the wagon in the first place.

Regarding Big Brother, it’s not the contestants that are the most irritating, butthe crowds who attend the launch nights and evictions; multitudes of soulless, Simian-like louts who have nothing better to do than gather en masse to boo and hiss at complete strangers. Now, why can’t they go do that down Westiminster instead, where it’s more warranted?

Speaking of simian-like louts, a two-drink limit is being proposed to counter the disease of binge-drinking. Sounds like a good idea; two pints is just enough to become more likeable, but not enough to become a slurring, bleary-eyed arsehole. Just enough to start to find people a bit more interesting, but not quite enough to start to tell them what you really think about them. The streets after closing time might be filled with happy people, walking around, laughing at each other’s jokes, engrossed in each other’s conversations, and being very friendly and polite, instead of people staggering about the streets, pissing in drains, vommitting in alleys, insulting or abusing other people, and generally degrading British society on a nightly basis.

But, still, what would this country prefer? A lifetime of watching cringe-inducing reality TV stars and disposable celebrities, or watching the glib, unsympathetic and mind-numbingly dreary faces (and that’s even before they start talking) of Hazel Blears, Tessa Jowell, Gordon Brown, et al?