More Morrison

A couple of years back I became infatuated with a certain song. I turned it up when it came on the radio and when I eventually bought it, I’d drive my family and friends mad by playing it over and over again at full volume. The song was "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore" by James Morrison and I simply could not get enough of it. Recently, I was invited to a special ‘Up Close’ show of James where he played an exclusive concert for competition winners and us media types. However, I overheard a conversation by the organisers saying they hadn’t got any towels for James after he’d finished his show. I volunteered the fact that I had one in my car and they gratefully accepted my offer. I use it at the gym but fortunately… I hadn’t used it to wipe any part of my anatomy (not even down there!!) before I gave it to James… he must have been relieved. The show was fantastic, he sang superbly but more importantly… my towel featured on stage, as in between songs James wiped his sweaty brow. Later, I went back to reclaim it and mentioned I wanted to donate it to charity so he signed it for me. Now I’m in a bit of a quandary as to which charity I should send it and help raise much needed funds. On my Facebook page I have asked for suggestions (and be nice) as to who should receive it… so, if you have any ideas please email them, find me on Facebook.

It appears from recent news reports that Michael Jackson had undergone surgery for some ailment or other. Well, this was just one of the many rumours that circulated when it was announced he had postponed a few of his much-publicised concerts at the O2 in London. However, the official line is that the show is just so technical and superb and unbelievable and fabulous… (you get the idea) that he needs more time to get it all ready. Mind you, I don’t think there’s a hotter ticket in the world at the moment and everyone wants to see the Price of Pop back on stage where he belongs so, I guess we’ll just have to wait and hope it all happens.

The other day I was taking some photographs of a model for some shots to be featured in a future edition of Bent. He pumped up his muscles, slipped into the outfit provided and started to pose for me. He was a natural. However, I didn’t quite realise how heavily I got into the session, as I shouted for him to strike certain poses, remember to tighten his abs, show off his six pack, smile at the camera (or not smile), to jump, to throw a ball or to change into some different gear. The poor guy was breathless and sweating like the proverbial… by the time we’d finished. He looked over at me and said I should be a personal trainer as he’d never had to do so much exercise and been driven so hard in his life. So… perhaps a new career opportunity has just opened up.

See you all at the gym

Terry