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Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: Keira Knightley

Celebrity Sightings

03 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by Candia in Celebrities, Film, Humour, News, Politics, Social Comment, Suttonford, television

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Tags

Boris Johnson, Caribbean, celebrity sighting, doppelganger, Edward Scissorhands, George Osborne, grog, hoop ear-rings, Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp, Keira Knightley, Kirstie Allsopp, kohl, New Forest, Phil Spencer, Pilate, Pugwash, Somali pirate, True Cross, Ugg, walking plank

Johnny Depp 2, 2011.jpg

Scheherezade and Tiger-Lily were still on their Easter break from school.

They’d decided to go to their favourite coffee shop, Costamuchamoulah,

to be seen and to give autographs to any members of the Lower School

who might happen upon them.

But suddenly-Aaaaagh!!! Did you see who that was? shrieked Tiger.

Yeah, I think that was him, verified Sherry, hot-footing it down High Street

as fast as her Ugg boots would permit.

Johnny Depp had reputedly bought a house in The New Forest and several

local publications had printed “evidence” of his having graced local sylvan

hostelries in his quest to quench his thirst with some grog.

If all these sightings were to be summarised then they would far outnumber

the multiple venerations of the True Cross in Medieval Europe and would,

no doubt, be as authentic.  It was fantastical to think of any unities of time

or place in these much vaunted protestations of having witnessed a real

presence.

No, mum, I swear it was him, hyper-ventilated Tiger.

Maybe it was a doppelganger, teased Carrie.

What’s that?

A double, someone who looks like him, suggested Carrie, peeling some

potatoes. She wondered if Keira Knightley peeled vegetables and what

hand cream she would use if she did.

Sherry added: The Daily Mail reported that it might have been Johnny Depp’s

son who was with him, although the boy spoke perfect English.

And what would that sound like, man? laughed Carrie.  I thought that the

prescriptive idea of language was old hat. Everything in linguistics is organic,

like these potatoes!

I bet his son’ll go to a private school, said Tiger dreamily.

Anyway, interrupted Sherry, two reporters from The Suttonford Chronicle

cornered him- Johnny, I mean, but he made a getaway by going into Tesco

Express.  He came out carrying a 12 pack…

..of beer? asked Carrie.

No, Andrex. Actually it was a 14 pack, as there’s a special offer on at

the moment and you get 2 rolls free. 

I wonder what the reporters were asking that so annoyed him?

mused Carrie, making a mental note of the special offer, especially as

she had a double points coupon that needed to be cashed in by the end

of the month.

They had got a little confused, explained Tiger, taking the peelings to the bin,

in an uncharacteristically altruistic action which was completely for Sherry’s

benefit.  Sometimes Carrie felt that she was expected to be Edwina

Scissorhands with all the domestic chores with which she was

burdened when the cleaner was on holiday.

Edwardscissorhandsposter.JPG

Johnny wasn’t the only skilled thespian on the planet. Tiger wanted

to look good in front of her friend, so she put on an Oscar-worthy

performance of a dutiful daughter.

They thought he was a Somali pirate and that they had some sort of Channel

4 scoop, she elucidated.

Carrie typed in “Depp” and “Suttonford Chronicle” and sourced the article on

her tablet.

Oh look, she commented, they can’t spell Caribbean! Ah…they say

that he also has a thirteen year old daughter called Lily-Rose.

I bet she’ll be coming to our school, breathed Sherry.  She’ll probably be in

the year below us.

George osborne hi.jpg

Well, said Carrie astringently, he’d have to be a Somali pirate to afford the

increase in fees.  If George Osborne has anything to do with it we will all be

walking the financial plank over shark-infested seas. Let’s hope Captain

Sparrow has the vital pieces-of-eight.  Oh, it says that he is going to return

  to the role in 2015.

Wow! enthused Tiger that means…

Yeah, interjected Sherry, that kohl, bandannas and hoop ear-rings are

going to be mega!

Tiger regained the conversational floor: And everyone will want to go to

Somalia for his/her gap year.

It’s not in the Caribbean, lectured Carrie.  Honestly, what did they learn in

Geography now?  Pupils seemed to be out and about doing street surveys

on celebrity sightings, but most of the kids couldn’t distinguish one

international shopping mall from another and didn’t know if they were in

Dubai, or Doncaster. They seemed to know as little about location as

most of Kirstie Allsopp and Phil Spencer’s clients.

On second thoughts, she didn’t think the students she knew would be

familiar with Doncaster…

She had seen past articles in The Guardian and The Sunday Correspondent  on

Captain Pugwash, where journalists affected confusion over the names of

cartoon pirates and simply fabricated the facts- and were sued.  (Maybe

Boris Johnson had learned a trick or two from them about sexing up details.)

She sincerely hoped that the girls would be able to distinguish fact from fiction.

But, as Pilate said, What is Truth?  And he had had its prime example standing

right in front of him.  Still, veracity was an educational objective, surely?

Who could tell? Had it been Johnny Depp in Suttonford, or was it a case of

mass hysteria and mistaken identity?

Hogwash/Pugwash?  Nowadays it was increasingly difficult to distinguish

the two!

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Learning Difficulties, Bullying and other problems.

10 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by Candia in Arts, Celebrities, Education, Humour, Music, Religion, Summer 2012, Suttonford

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Brassica, Bullying, Castor and Pollux, Damien HIrst, flugelhorn, Frida Kahlo, Gerald Nabarro, Jedward, Julia Roberts, Keira Knightley, Learning Difficulties, Love of God, moustache, Road to Damascus, school orchestra, Shostakovich, Three Little Pigs

Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait, 1940. See discussi...

Brassica was horrified.  She had her eyebrows threaded as she was beginning to develop a monobrow like Frida Kahlo’s.  The beauty therapist offered to do her moustache on the next visit.

Moustache!  What moustache?  She was peering into the mirror in her dressing room and yes, although not exactly a handlebar, or a Gerald Nabarro version, there was a shadow on her upper lip.

 I wonder how long I’ve been going around like that? she deliberated.

There was nothing else for it but electrolysis, so off she scooted to Suttonford’s Pride Knows No Pain beauty studio, where she subjected her hirsutism and her husband’s credit card to a series of expensive shocks.

Suddenly, everywhere she looked, she could spot moustachioed women.  Was that a tell-tale penumbra perched over Keira Knightley’s lips as she kissed Aaron Taylor-Johnson?  Whatever.  She had no intention of stealing Conchita Wurst’s thunder.

It was as if she was experiencing a post Road to Damascus revelation, where, sight returned, scales having fallen from her eyes, she saw everything more clearly.

For the Love of God by Damien Hirst (2007)

Julia Roberts might have been cool about hair in certain parts of her anatomy, but Brassica knew that she personally would wage war on any productive follicle.  Dermo-abrasion- whatever!  Should one dot be visible, she would stud her skull with diamante until she resembled For the Love of God by Damien Hirst.  Or she could wear a hoodie, balaclava, visor, diver’s helmet, burka or a World War 1 gas mask, asbestos or not.

Mum, why can’t you take us to school?  moaned the twins, Castor and Pollux.

I’ve got an appointment at the studio, she mumbled under the bandaging.  She simply couldn’t face the other mothers in the school yard.

But we don’t have to go with Rollo, Ferdy and that lot, do we?  They’re always late, so we will end up getting a detention too.  Anyway, Mr Milford-Haven wanted to talk to you about our school reports.

What school reports?  You didn’t give them to me. Are they still in your satchels?

Castor and Pollux exchanged guilty glances.

We were scared that you and Dad would be angry.

Angry? Why?

Because our form teacher wrote us a joint report which said that we had a glorious future in show-business as Jedward 2.

That is unacceptable and unprofessional, said Brassica.  I will have to have words with Mr Milford– what is his name again?-

We all call him ‘Caligula’, the twins interjected.

Well, whatever it is, I am going to see him about the bullying you have both been subjected to this term.

Bullying?  They looked puzzled.

You told me that that boy in the orchestra was calling you Bastard and Bollocks.

But John’s our bestest buddy, Mum.

Well, I am not having him copying your Latin prep when I spent so long looking up all those words on the internet.  He’ll probably end up getting the end of year Classics cup.  And, I saw his mother sniggering when you- she paused to look directly at Castor– were playing your flugelhorn solo in the Claustrophobic competition.

Shostakovich, mum, supplied Pollux.

John! Such a common name anyway, Brassica continued.  After all, he’s only on Grade 1 violin and you two are sitting Grade 5 theory at Christmas.  Hasn’t he got learning difficulties?

Probably, said Castor.  He is allowed extra time in the school orchestra rehearsals and he is always behind the beat.

Then, horror of horrors, just as Ferdy and Rollo’s mum’s 4X4 drew up and the horn was tooted, Pollux asked:

Do all mummies have hair on their chinnie-chin-chins?

Brassica shoved them both out of the porch:

Only when they have produced little pigs!

Very bad parent, she admonished herself as the children waved goodbye out of the window.  But not as bad as John’s mum.

She would soon blow her house down!  Now, where had she put these tweezers?

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My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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