The London paper the Evening Standard has a free magazine every Friday 'ES'.
Typically the cover splash features ‘next big things’ (actors and/or models) that I've never heard of and never seem to go anywhere. Inside it's a medley of serious faced suity types and their shiny new projects, aristocratic inheritance scandals about high society swizzery and who ended up with all Lord Toffingham’s lolly. Oh, and a designer. But the travel pages are great.
However, the thing that really makes me grind my teeth to dental powder is one full page of full on smuggery bringing light to the lives of lowly folk - called
‘A Londoner's Diary’
It’s usually written by the sort of quack head Notting Hill ninny you’d dread being sat next to anywhere (apart from when it’s Alex James). In which the guest gabbler of the week swishes through a list of society lunches, showbiz launches, 'charidee'work and country weekends throwing celebrity names around like someone feeding handfuls of corn to the feral pigeons
The political diarists are even more deeply dire, full of quizzical eyes, knowing nods and Westminster(yawns)yarns that turn you grey faced, glazed and bored to the very core.
It’s these sort of metro trendies and droning minnies that give southerners a bad name. You could argue - why read it, if its so bad? But that's the thing - it is so bad! I have to check in to see if it’s still maintaining it's quota of queasy cheese.
I don't care who’s appearing this week (apart from if it's Alex James) they can take their dreary diary and smugger off.
