BEEFCAKE BUFFOONERY!

THE Chippendales - those prancing baboons from the States with their silly shaven chests and rippling torsos - have an awful lot to answer for. 

Not content with spawning a copycat beefcake industry over here, this collection of body-building posing pouches has now invaded the British pop charts with their so-called raunchy single Give Me Your Body. 

The “all-male dance revue” (as they are described in their press releases) is indeed a puzzling phenomenon. To my mind there is no more pathetic spectacle than pneumatic “guys” with their pseudo-sexy six-packs and gigantic thighs wearing little more than bow ties and baby oil. 

With their over-stretched and under-sized T-shirts and skintight shorts bulging with a variety of root vegetables, these male bimbos get gratuitously groped by gangs of bored housewives blotto on Baileys and Babycham.

While wild women scream “Gerremoff!” and stuff tenners in their nether garments, these dancing boys with their flexing pecs wield phallic items like truncheons and snooker cues while they mime to tacky disco pap. 

And before you say it, NO - Smith on Saturday is not jealous. We all know blokes with big biceps tend to have small brains and other stuff (more Chipmunk than Chippendale, ladies, if you know what I mean). 

“Harmless escapism” I hear you cry. Hmmm…maybe. But entertainment? Pull the other one!

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FIDDLER HITS BOTTOM NOTE

HELP! That ridiculous fiddle maestro Nigel Kennedy says he’s fed up playing “dead men’s music” and plans to move into the pop music scene. 

For good measure this pseudo-punk in a Villa scarf appeared on TV this week killing two birds with one stone by murdering Hendrix’s Purple Haze on an electric violin. 

Coupled with his fake working-class accent, it all smacks of a carefully contrived move by Nige to milk even more money  from his newfound audience of tasteless trendies!

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CAN YOU SMELL IT?

 

YOU’VE bought his records, watched his videos and worn the T-shirts (even had the surgery, maybe). Well, now you can also smell like Michael Jackson, if you so wish! 

This Christmas "Wacko Jacko” launches his own line of perfumes. For a mere £20, guys can splash out on Legende de Michael Jackson, while gals can freshen up with Mystique de Michael Jackson. 

Whats more, each bottle has a hologram of the singing superstar on the label! What next - a range of bath foam called Bubbles??

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(This column was originally published in the Northamptonshire Evening Telegraph on Saturday, 14 November, 1992)