In your face?

Claire Curtis-Thomas MP wants to restrict the display of 'lad's mags' in shops and is presenting her Regulation of Sale and Display of Sexually Explicit Material Bill in the Commons today. According to the BBC news website, she said descriptions of sexual acts in an April edition of Zoo magazine are "so graphic and repulsive I am prevented from quoting it on the floor of the House of Commons". This comment, and the focus on it by the media, has meant that subsequent discussions on the subject have deviated from the main reason why I think that some of these magazines should be moved to less obvious display areas in shops. The nude women on the front covers.

Now, I'm no prude, and have never had an issue with the images on the covers of some of the more established men's titles (e.g. Arena, Esquire, GQ) as they are usually stylishly photographed and wearing clothing. Many magazines feature scantily clad women on their covers, but most are no more pornographic than a music video. Sad though the normalisation of this type of representation of women is, these images are not deemed offensive by the majority of people, and so I am not surprised that Ms Curtis-Thomas' generalisations have brought cries for many women's magazines to also be moved to the top shelf. However, I think that Zoo and Nuts should be subject to some form of regulation as they fall into an entirely different category to the majority of magazines on the shelves.

Saying that "there is unrestricted access to such material", takes away from the fact that you don't even have to buy these magazines to be able to see naked women. If an 11-year-old boy wants to purchase Zoo or Nuts to look at photos of topless women then he can, just as his 13-year-old sister can buy Cosmopolitan for its sex tips. Whether that is 'right' or not is another matter, but there are no restrictions on the sale of these magazine titles so that is simply the way things currently stand. What I do object to, however, is being practically forced to look at naked women every time I enter a shop to buy a magazine because of the cover images on these titles and the prominence with which they are displayed. As I've said before, I'm no prude, I would simply like to choose the sort of images I view rather than have them thrust upon me.

It's a shame that Nuts and Zoo feel that footballers, cars and any other subject that graces the inside of their issues are not worth of their covers. I'm sure that use of any of these, or even a woman with some clothes on, would not affect their sales as the cover strap lines could hint at what tantalising treats lie within. If they really feel they need the bare tits and ass, they should be happy to have their titles put at the back of racks (no pun intended), with the gratuitous images covered up. Covering up nipples with a bikini is fine for a magazine cover, but covering them using another woman's breasts really should be saved for inside.

Those were the days

These are sad times. The last remaining friends from my early teenage years are slowly dropping away, and the world will move on. These dear chums will be fondly remembered but not really missed as we drifted apart years ago anyway. Still, it was always nice to have them there as a reminder of now much times have changed. However, Smash Hits magazine shuffled off this mortal coil in February this year, and now it has been announced that Top of the Pops is to follow it into that musical dumpster in the sky.

The first copy of Smash Hits I purchased was for the sole reason of getting my hands on the fantastic sticker album that all my friends at middle school had. It was March 1986, I was 11-years-old and the dreadful Sigue Sigue Sputnik were on the cover, but I didn't let that put me off because I really wanted that free book. My friends and I swapped stickers for months until our collections were complete (or we lost interest), and we also learned the lyrics of all our favourite songs from this wonderful magazine. Posters of your favourite pop stars and interviews with them where they were asked pointless questions, like what their favourite colour was, made Smash Hits a 'must have' for any self-respecting pre-pubescent pop fan in the 80s. I remember walking round to the local newsagent every fortnight armed with 90p to get my copies of Smash Hits and whatever inferior music/gossip magazine was accompanying it on the shelves that month. Then the price rose, the magazine's style changed and, more importantly, I grew up. After a brief NME and Melody Maker phase, I bought Q Magazine for years but nothing could beat that rush that I'd felt when the latest Smash Hits found its way into my young hands.

Another big musical influence on me, that held my attention for a little longer, was Top of the Pops. I still remember a 1989 family holiday in the Highlands, and the horror when I discovered that only Radio 2 and BBC Radio Scotland would reach our cottage in Oban. Even a commercial station would have been acceptable to me at that stage - anything to get my pop fix - but it was not to be. My parents decided that Thursday would be the day we climbed Ben Nevis and so we made it back down in record time because I was utterly desperate to see Top of the Pops! Having been denied my daily dose of Radio 1, I felt like I had no idea what was going on in the outside world and so TOTP was like a lifeline. If I missed it I would have no idea who was at number one and, in those days, that was a really big deal for me. A really big deal. I still have two video cassettes that were released to mark 25 years of the show and the clips of shoddy miming, Pan's People, Kid Jensen & John Peel, audiences covered in party balloons, and various theme tune changes bring back so many memories. I can't remember the first time I watched Tops of the Pops, or the time when watching it every week no longer seemed necessary, but it was always there for me throughout my childhood and teenage years. I can only hope now that the BBC will devote an entire evening (on any of their channels) to remembering the good and bad times we had together.

RIP Top of the Pops (1964-2006)

Nineteen ninety six

Ten years ago today, I was at my parents' house in Buckinghamshire, having returned there the weekend before at the end of my second year at university in Manchester. I was shocked to see the city I had begun to call home appear on the TV news that morning, looking totally unlike the place I had left just seven days earlier. The largest explosion in mainland Britain, since World War II, had ripped through the city centre at 11:17, after a white van loaded with 1,500kg of explosives had been left there by the IRA. Thanks to a coded warning, the police were able to evacuate the area in time so no one was killed, but over 200 people were injured in the explosion.

New design, new content?

During preparations for my site re-launch, I wondered what on earth I could talk about in my resurrected blog. Do I have a specialist subject that I could wax lyrical about and dazzle my readers with my valuable insights? I doubt it. Then I realised that my weekly inspiration, that rare breed called the weekend newspaper columnist, did not usually have a specific topic to discuss either. Perhaps, as I'd initially planned for version 1 of the site before resorting to ramblings about my oh-so-interesting life, I could simply write about whatever fires me up enough that week?

It didn't take long before something did. Last week, at the end of another entertaining edition of Top Gear, Jeremy Clarkson announced that they would be off our screens for over a month while the World Cup is on. How can this be? It's not like there is a regular ratings winner scheduled against them on BBC1 that simply has to be moved to the BBC2 slot - last week it was some random film - so the only explanation is that Auntie has chosen to clear the schedules on both channels to make way for the football. Strange as it may seem, not everyone in the UK likes football, and those who don't aren't all female either. Try telling that to Sky whose antidote to the weeks of soccer-tainment is to schedule umpteen dull 'chick flicks' on their movie channels for this supposed minority. I guess I'll just have to spend a few weeks at the probably peaceful cinema, or perhaps even reading all the books I was given for Christmas and have yet to start.

Top Gear's soccer match of Toyota Aygo versus Volkswagen Fox was, in my opinion, much better entertainment than weeks of hoping that England will go further than the quarter finals only to have some ridiculous penalty shoot-out ruin the party atmosphere. Perhaps I should just get a new digital radio for my car so that I can listen to BBC 6 Music, where they have music rather than sports news following every bulletin. Then my life could remain, relatively, World Cup free. Sadly, the last lot of decent stereo equipment I bought for my car was stolen and so I don't think I'll risk wasting anoher 200 quid just to escape Sven and the boys. Mind you, the lads who took it will probably all be in the pub watching football so it might be worth the risk this time. I wonder if Halfords also sell anything that blocks out the sight of those nasty car-based England flags. Hope springs eternal.

Changes afoot