Help needed

I am rubbish. I give you this:


And a very kind reader sends this back to me:


With a bonus face picture, too:


But I am very grateful and now, I hope, so are you!

Actually, let's see if we can repeat that trick with this trio:


It's a blond-themed trio, since you were clearly wondering.


Which finishes with both a cute angle and a tiny todger.


I will retire tonight a happy man.

Going, going

It doesn't sound at all promising, I grant you: a film about a professional cellist who loses his Tokyo job when his orchestra is disbanded, and he knows he's not good enough to find another. So he returns to his home town and gets work as a, er, sort of undertaker.


That Departures is, in fact, one of the most joyful, transcendent, life-affirming films of the last few years is a credit to everyone involved.


Delicately witty, weaving a very humanist path through the formal rituals associated with a Japanese death, much of the magic depends on a towering performance by the central actor, Masahiro Motoki.


Now in his mid-40s, it doesn't hurt at all that Masahiro is so very, very easy on the eye...


He began his career as a member of a boy-band, before shifting into modelling and acting. In his mid-20s, he was the model for a rather audacious series by photographer Kishin Shinyoma:


Chiselled cheekbones, an amazing mouth...


And a perfectly-sized winkie, by the looks of things:


He doesn't show us quite this much in Departures, alas, though there is a particular scene involving cotton wool and forceps that may well bring a tear to your eye.


I don't want to distract you from the brilliance of the film with this rather enticing series of the lovely Masohiro.


But with that image of a springy bush of pubey goodness, how could you now resist seeing his film?

More Levi Johnston

As part of this blog's commitment to public service, here's the second tranche of Levi Johnston photos from his recent weak-as-piss photoshoot:


Levi is an ordinary kid with a decent body who found himself in the, er, wrong place at the wrong time.


His response, like all good western Capitalists, is to make money from his predicament by selling the only merchantable asset he has (and, to be frank, that doesn't appear to be his brain).


Although perhaps we should not be too hasty in rushing to judgement, because Levi has given us the classic "hint at full frontal nudity to generate hysterical hype, and then only give them a bit of arse" approach.


Don't get me wrong: I think he has a perfectly servicable arse.


It's just that, for putting up with all this hype, I wanted cock, too.


Of course, all of that pales into insignificance if it has, even slightly, reduced the prospects of a President "Hockey Mom" Palin (and in that regard the hockey stick used here is a nice homage).

Go, Levi, go!

No hands

This chap is rather cheery:


He is by no means the most conventionally beautiful man in the world but, on the other hand, he does have a nice pair of very dangly bollocks:


In fact, the whole package is rather jolly:


Even here, a photo that would normally be a tad undignified, he keeps smiling through it:


But that's because he knows he's got something verrry special to show us.

Here we go:


And, for the finale, giving the full effect -- dah-daa!!!


See -- you just have to make the best use of the gifts you've got, not spend your time worrying about having something else.

All made up

Had a delicious dinner in the Giaconda Dining Rooms tonight (and if you don't know about that, I suggest you search one of my earlier blogs -- can't remember which), so no time for more than a handful on a theme of body painting.


I think it was the Watchman from the other day that has currently got me fixating on body painting.


Often it's the simplest ideas that work best (click to enlarge this chap and get mesmerised by his chest):


At first glance this next one is all lady-parts and no winkie, but in fact there is a Giant Mutant lurking there in turd-brown:


But, to finish -- you can't really beat a Harlequin can you.


Yes, yes, I know that wasn't a proper Harlequin, but who's being picky now?

It's electric

I've known about this image for years but until now I've only ever seen it at a tiny resolution (but now you can click to enlarge):


It was a painting commissioned by British Railways for a poster campaign, to celebrate the opening of the electrified Manchester-Sheffield-Wath route over the Pennines (you might remember me banging on about this from before).

The locomotives, resplendent in their shiny, blackberry black livery, are the two types developed for this route: on the left, a Class EM1 (later Class 76), designed by eminence gris Sir Nigel Gresley for the London & North Eastern Railway, a powerful mixed traffic engine; and on the right, a Class EM2 (Class 77), a later development of the EM1, designed for heavy express passenger work.

Here's a copy of the original poster:


I think the blackberry black locomotives work particularly well with the blood and custard livery of the passenger coaches.

The sense of pride they had at technological progress is almost palpable.

"Look at me..."

A random round-up of self-portraits, starting with this magnificent specimen:


This chap is cute:


I love the looking backwards approach -- full marks for novelty, it's not a pose you often see:


This chap has a great, great body:


And I do love the mystery of this one:


These comments from me are entirely superfluous, aren't they?


I could write any old cack in here, and I suspect the majority of my visitors wouldn't really care.


Let's face it, when confronted with these delightful men, what possible interest could my words hold?


And, when I look at the glorious body of this next chap, I really don't mind -- I agree with you, he's much more interesting than me.


And, to finish, I rather like this desperate clutching of his genitals.


I just would rather it was me doing it for him, obviously.

Mind the gap

Cumbria (the "Lake District" in the North-West of England) has been having some pretty unpleasant weather, leading to destructive flooding.


This 1 minute video shows what happened to a delightful stone bridge that had managed to survive since 1847:



While I'm sure it's delightful, the Cumbrian town of Workington is not my cup of tea (even that name is a bit offputting), but here it is -- essentially a town split down the middle by a river:


In the floods, two of the road bridges were swept away while the third has been closeed because it's looking likely to go anytime soon. The only working connection between the two halves of the town is now the railway bridge.


But most of the jobs are on the northern side of the river, and most of the housing is on the southern; the road journey is now a 20 mile excursion which is currently taking about 3 hours due to the volumes of traffic. The railway has been swamped, although the next station after Workington is some miles north.


In a rather heartwarming story, in just a couple of days Network Rail built a temporary railway station on the northern side of the river, and Northern Rail is now operating a free railway shuttle between the two sides of the town.


With vintage British Rail locomotives -- a Brutish Class 47 and a delightful Class 37 -- top-and-tailing a rake of rather fine-looking Mk3 carriages, this service can transport around 300 people on each trip. The locomotives were supplied by Direct Rail Services, which is a wholly owned subsidiary of the nuclear power company (which is very active in that part of the world).


With around 5,000 horsepower (roughly the same as a High Speed Train), this is a rather over-the-top approach to hauling four coaches, but the advantage of having a cab at each end outweigh the vast power and heavy weight of the locos.


As you can tell from the shots, the vintage semaphore signalling equipment reveals that this is not ordinarily a heavily-used line: in fact, it's more used to single-carriage pacers than such a heavy-duty train.


But in a country which usually takes years to get planning permission for any capital investment, and then takes even more years to put together a funding package and a consortium of stakeholders, it's rather satisfying to see the railway is capable of doing what it used to be rather famous for -- improvising practical solutions to transportation problems which are then delivered quickly and safely.


It does rather beg the question as to why there is so much agonising over lengthening platforms at intensively-used railway stations in southern England -- figures of hundreds of thousands of pounds are routinely bandied about, when a platform is, essentially, a mound of earth with some tarmac on top. If you want to get fancy you can string a couple of street lights along it. And add a chicken wire fence. Bob's your uncle.


Workington North station has been built from scaffolding poles and planks, with a non-slip surface added. A footbridge has been installed, and a gravel car park laid-out. It will last at least two years. And it cost tuppence-ha'penny.