Cup of tea and a sit down

I can't think of one single topic on which to expatiate, dear reader, but I need to warble about something or my ratings will plummet.

Here is one of my pot pourris where I share with you my profound thoughts as I make the tortuous journey to work.

Today I drove to our office in Winnersh Triangle ("makes people disappear") which should only take an hour or so on a good day, but of course there are those nasty M25 roadworks ("delays until 2012") to contend with. So plenty of time in which to ruminate, and wonder where all the equine horse feed lorries have gone.

1) Paul don't do it! I am gutted, as is my mother Giz, to learn that Paul O'Grady is rumoured to be leaving Channel 4 for Sky for a lucrative contract. Channel 4, the old skin flints, have apparently offered him 50% less. They are no doubt projecting a reduction in their coffers with the demise (thank God) of Big Brother. Please don't go Paul! Giz doesn't have Sky and neither of us like Graham Norton very much (rumoured to be leaving BBC for Channel 4, and Paul's teatime show).

On that matter, if the presenters are all playing musical chairs and Mr Norton is off to Channel 4, I would like to make an early bid at this point for Jonathan Ross to present the Eurovision Song Contest. He likes the show, would give it the sensitive yet ironic treatment it needs, and is the logical successor to Sir Terry Wogan.

2) I am always thrilled to find an author I like, and one that has a good back catalogue for me to discover. I chanced across "The Senator's Wife" by Sue Miller and am enjoying it greatly. It's beautifully written and from the point of view of an elderly woman which is refreshing, because as I'm increasingly finding, you may look more dilapidated on the outside but you're still the same inside.

3) Today's useless health advice: four out of 10 women get breast cancer because they are unfit with a poor diet. So the majority of women with breast cancer have a healthy diet? Wouldn't that be a warning NOT to have a healthy diet?

4) Finally I must share this little titbit (or tidbit if you're in the US). It's very rare that Curious Girl receives a compliment these days. I was buying diesel today when a man came up to me and said "I just wanted to let you know -" (and I was thinking glumly "flat tyre? Lights left on?") but no, he added - "you have a lovely figure." A great tonic indeed, particularly as J is always dropping hints about the "skinny birds" at his running club and how I would do well to join them. He was somewhat taken aback when I told him and blustered about lorry drivers needing glasses.

Mick the only surprise in tedious BAFTAS

Maybe it's the recession, maybe they're saving their best frocks for the Oscars. Whatever the reason, the BAFTAs was a distinctly gloomy gathering of the stars. Most of the frocks were black, whereas I was hoping for an explosion of colour as we've seen on the cat walks.

The only stars who stood out, to my mind, were Sharon Stone who J remarked "still looks good," in red, and Angelina Jolie, albeit in black but with a dash of citrus. I can't even remember what the gorgeous Penelope Cruz was wearing so it can't have been very memorable. "She looks rough" was J's remark about Kylie, in black. (Reminder to self: black now looks so boring!).

Meanwhile each category seemed to feature the same old films. I now have no inclination to watch either The Changeling or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I am quite enthusiastic now about Slumdog Millionaire and I've Loved You So Long. I can't believe how Mamma Mia hasn't won any awards - a marvellous feel good film, fantastic cinematography (and largely made at Pinewood - which wasn't mentioned when Pinewood was given its award).

The only surprises in proceedings were Mickey Rourke winning best actor, and Man On Wire defeating Slumdog Millionaire for Outstanding British Film. (I saw it recently and it really is the most marvellous documentary).

Plus, Mick Jagger was a big surprise. I've always discounted him as an ageing old lothario. But when he came bounding out on the stage I was struck by his charisma and his youthfulness. He was the only presenter who said anything remotely funny all night (sorry Jonathan Ross, but you were so busy minding your P's and Q's you weren't your normal ebullient, hilarious self - thanks prissy Daily Mail readers for that). Even my mother agreed and said she could almost fancy him herself.

The trouble with Ross & Brand

I've always found Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand individually very talented and amusing. They're probably not very bothered about the current furore about their lewd phone calls on Radio 2 to the elderly and much loved actor Andrew Sachs. I imagine that Brand in particular is enjoying the notoriety. He thrives on it. Remember his recent comments in the US, where an unknown Brand said the President was a moron?

The problem with Ross & Brand is that the BBC is really too restrictive for them. It's hardly edgy, is it, and they both like to challenge to see how far they can go. Ross is pushing 50 and is well aware that his fate is be the next Terry Wogan. He's probably feeling a bit threatened by Brand. Brand on the other hand is a Walter Mitty, a fantasist, whose arrogant claims about women are partially justified I imagine - any old wannabe slapper from Big Brother will probably sleep with him - but he looked a bit foolish the other day when it turned out he hadn't had his wicked way with Rod Stewart's daughter, despite telling the singer he had. It's all bluster. He's one of those men who may end up being a serial womanizer because he loves the thrill and the capture but can't do the cosy intimacy. No woman could be suitably adoring 24/7.

The wishy wishy Tristans of the BBC will now be climbing the walls having been giving a kicking by the Prime Minister and 10,000 Disgusteds of Tunbridge Wells. And the outcome will probably be that a producer will get sacked. Oh I think it very unlikely they would actually punish the highly paid Ross or the very much up-and-coming Brand.

My advice to the two gents would be that they do a Jim Davidson (they share many traits with him) and go out live on the road. They can be as lewd as they like. They may fall flat on their faces of course, but at least it will stretch and challenge them.

Worried about David

As a lifelong fan of David Bowie, I have become somewhat concerned about his whereabouts. I know he's happily esconsced in New York with wife Iman and daughter, but we've seen so little of him for the last three years. During his last tour in 2004 (when I saw him at the Birmingham NEC), he had the incident (in Norway I think) where a dart nearly blinded him, and then he had what was described later as a mild heart problem, similar to that suffered by Tony Blair.

But since then, we've hardly seen him and there have been no new albums except compilations. Strange for someone who has always been so prolific. Indeed, when I have seen him (at society gatherings or awards ceremonies, pictured in Hello) he looks bloated and unwell, most unlike his normally angular self. I don't buy the argument that maybe he just wants to take life easy and put on a bit of weight. I think maybe the heart problem was worse than we were led to believe.

I'm so hungry for a new album, a tour and an appearance on Jonathan Ross. My fervant hope has always been that David recaptures the public's imagination by having another blockbuster album. It doesn't have to be brilliant but purely commercial, like Let's Dance. The whole Facebook generation seems oblivious to him (you can only locate him there as "Bowie" if you want to find his music) and this is criminal when you consider that of all today's artists, he has had the most impact and influence. Plus he is still the coolest man in pop, even at the age of 60.

I read somewhere he has turned down an honour, which I think is very sad. It seems crazy when musical lightweights like Cliff Richard and Rod Stewart get honoured and Bowie doesn't. So I hope the right thing is done. Gordon!

Meanwhile: David where are you?

Europe has nothing to fear from UK Eurovision entry (again)

Last night the nation decided. The UK entry in the Eurovision Song Contest in May is a group called Scooch, with Bucks-Fizz style formulaeic cutesy song.

I've often thought that the BBC isn't serious about winning because we always have such turgid entries, and of course winning it would result in huge expense. But this year, they clearly put some effort into it. All of the songs, with the exception of a dreary ballad from Brian Harvey, were very good. I liked the montage of clips from other countries who have already picked their entrants. And I liked the guest panel from across Europe voted. Unfortunately, the British public didn't back the horse the panel suggested (Big Bruvaz, the rap number). I didn't like it the most, but I reckon it had the biggest chance of Eurovision success.

When I first saw Scooch I knew right away they would win. Classic Buck's Fizz style cheese, where you take a group of averagely attractive people and give them cutesy outfits, cutesy dance moves (aeroplanes) and a few lines heavy with suggestion ("salted nuts sir?").

Win it did, but by the third airing, my brother and I were both groaning and saying we wouldn't want to hear it again. It's beyond irritating.

The only black spot of the night was Terry Wogan, normally the lynchpin of Eurovision, but now so curmudgeonly that it didn't seem he was being amusingly ironic. It seemed like he really does hate it all. Time to pension him off and bring in Jonathan Ross.