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Music appreciation Hasselhoff's high notes
Have we discovered a small conspiracy here? Or a rather large private joke? David Hasselhoff is best known in this country for fluttering his beefsteak biceps on a beach in Baywatch. But he is also in the estimation of some, including himself, an international mega-recording star of world-shattering quality. His latest CD, Looking For - Best of David Hasselhoff is reviewed online at Amazon.com by no fewer than 522 fans. A more usual number is 12. And he is enthusiastically reviewed by every one of them. Just read what they say: 'The masterpiece hit me like flatulence from a hippo writhing with kidney failure' says one who signs himself Herby Gerby, giving it five stars out of five. 'A hippo in a rusty bear-trap,' says another. 'Like gerbils ala basso profundo ' comes next; do we spot a common animal theme here? It is continued and extended with: 'A moose with bronchitis. He pushes his bowels to their very limit; what emerges is always solid.'
A strange similarity, perhaps? Yet these fans profess to love their man - and one track they find particularly good. 'The song Hot Shot City is particularly good,' says reviewer Palomar Haskey, who gives his address as a Jedi temple in some distant galaxy. 'The song Hot Shot City is particularly good,' writes another fan. 'The song Hot Shot City is five paces past the three oak trees, beyond the hillock of heather, and is particularly good,' writes a Tolkein fan. 'Hot Shot City is particularly-gooding,' says The Mexican Frodo from Obi Wan's residence, mixing Tolkein and Star Wars indiscriminately.
Let us return to earth. A German fan writes: 'Yes, it is true Hot Shot City has dirty meanings in German, but also it is particularly good.' Another - or the same? - says, 'And Hot Shot City? Es ist fantastich, c'est formidable, not to mention particularly good.' The phrase occurs in almost every one of the 522 reviews.
All written by one Hasselhoff fan? Or by 522 sharing a particularly successful game of damning by extravagant praise? Certainly he has thousands of fans in Germany where his song Looking for Freedom topped the charts in 1989 and became such an anthem for the Geman people that he sang it atop the Berlin wall in the same year while close to a million fans listened. 'We don't censor or limit our customers reviews, as long as they are not obscene and are reasonably relevant,' says Amazon.
Most curious of all, though, is the 'our customers advice' section. 'See what customers recommend in addition to, or instead of, the product on this page,' says Amazon. Two customers recommended reading the same book: Sodomy and the Pirate tradition: English sea rovers in the 17th-century Caribbean. Make of that what you will.
Julian Champkin
Grammar
How's votre spelling?
Last Sunday afternoon, some three million French viewers sat down in front of their TV sets to watch the enthralling spectacle of the finalists in one of Europe's more bizarre contests try to take down 270 words of dictation without making any mistakes.
The Dicos d'Or, as this extraordinary annual event is known, is nothing less that France's national spelling competition. It was launched in 1985 by Lire magazine, which every April publishes the grammar and spelling tests used to select the candidates for 24 regional qualifying rounds.
The 176 finalists, classed as amateurs, professionals (teachers, editors, writers, journalists and the like), juniors (16-18 year olds) and infants (up to 16), must then grapple with a text composed specially for the purpose by Bernard Pivot, a near-legendary French TV figure who for decades hosted a hugely popular literary programme called Bouillon de Culture.
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They are always joined, for the laugh, by a few celebrities - this year the ministers of culture, secondary education and research. As one paper noted, this was as significant a French ministerial attendance, in numerical terms, as at the Davos economic forum and the alternative anti-globaliation summit in Port Allegre.
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For the Dicos d'Or are huge in France. The winners are lauded in the press and guaranteed an exciting year of local fete-opening and bookshop-gracing. (This year, a secondary school maths teacher won the adults' competition with one mistake, and a 13-year-old boy triumphed in the shorter kids contest with just half a mistake.)
Mostly the success is down to France's abiding fascination with its language and the unceasing battle to defend it against vulgar English hordes.
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Occasionally the competition goes global, just to prove how important the language of Molière still is in the world. In 1992, contestants from 108 countries gathered at the United Nations in New York for a final won by a 17-year-old Bulgarian who had never left his home country and learned all his French from a second-hand grammar book and the radio.
But the proudest winner, the man who perhaps sums up what the Dicos is really about, was Robert Docin-Julien, who after many unsuccessful attempts finally won in 1994, and with zero mistakes. Docin-Julien was born in 1926 on a sugar plantation in Fort-de-France, Martinique.
Jon Henley
Politics
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? It's an MEP!
Suddenly my job as an MEP looks a bit more exciting. Troubled Waters, a cartoon book issued last week to bring the work of the European parliament to life, has caused a stir. It tells the tale of Irina, an unfeasibly glamorous, swashbuckling MEP who uses her legislative clout to bring the powerful and sinister European chemicals industry to heel. But are our lives really like that?
I showed the book to my son yesterday. He promptly ripped the cover off and started to eat it. Then again, he's only 12 months old, so it hardly counted as proper market research.
Naturally, the authors have indulged in a little artistic licence. The parliament's president looks more severe and svelte than our witty and slightly rotund president, Pat Cox, is in reality. One caption shows a couple of Japanese tourists eagerly taking photos of Irina and her Adonis-like assistant, Alex. To my knowledge, MEPs are not yet a tourist attraction. Kajal sex pic gif fake image. The intrepid Irina also appears to be driving a natty little Fiat Uno, when most of the cars I see in the parliamentary garage are of the large, gas-guzzling variety.
Irina also seems quite happy to be shuttling back and forth between the two locations of the European parliament in Brussels and Strasbourg, chirpily declaring that, 'I'd hate to have to choose between mussels and chips [in Brussels] and Strasbourg onion tart'. I must have a word with her. If she can singlehandedly thwart multinational chemical companies, she'd be a first-class ally in the campaign to rid the parliament of its absurd travelling arrangements.
Some of the characterisations are politically revealing. The official from the council of ministers, the forum for national governments, looks unnervingly like Cruella DeVille. The civil servant from the European commission, meanwhile, is the spitting image of Vinny Jones. As the cartoon rightly suggests, the Council of Ministers and the European commission are the two institutions MEPs love to hate.
But the central storyline - sweeping environmental legislation, powerful lobby groups, haggling between MEPs and governments - is spot on. And MEPs really do say things like, 'The report is currently on its second reading. So we have to reach agreement with the council, if necessary via a conciliation committee. Thank you,' as Irina memorably declares at a press conference. OK, perhaps not all MEPs look like superheros, jumping effortlessly from one change of clothing to another in the blink of an eye. But I wouldn't object if that becomes our new image, a vast improvement on the gravy train depiction so loved of British tabloids. Who knows, I might even manage to persuade my son one day that his dad is a swashbuckling hero too.
Nick Clegg MEP (Lib Dem, East Midlands)
Shopping
Daddy's toy was better
Great news: divorce rates last year were the highest for five years. More children than ever before are being born to single parents. Increasing numbers of kids are caught in a tug-of-love between warring parents, battling to win their affection. Rejoice!
If the situation doesn't necessarily bring unalloyed happiness to the families themselves, it at least represents gleeful news for the toy industry. Manufacturers announced this week that British toy sales last year were up £120m on 2001. And Brian Ellis, chairman of the British Toy and Hobby Federation, knows why: 'Because you have got more broken families, children these days quite frequently have two sets of parents, so the expenditure per child is rising,' he said.
It's a welcome fillip for an industry that has long been steeling itself against tumbling birth rates and another serious threat to sales, referred to in hushed tones as KGOY, or 'kids get older younger'. Youngsters today, the theory goes, tire of toys much earlier than previous generations. Instead of GI Joe and Barbie, today's 12-year-olds have long since moved on to computer games, gangsta rap and crack cocaine. (The biggest toy market today, consequently, is among four- to five-year-olds.) So any sign of acrimony among the grown-ups, especially where it leads to competitive present-buying for poor abandoned Jake and Jessie, is to be welcomed.
'When couples separate, children in effect get two birthdays and two Christmases,' says Jack Boyle, a psychologist who has studied the effect of divorce on children. Toysellers who fear KGOY, in other words, underestimate the marketing magic of DPWB - or 'daddy's present was better'.
Curiously, if the growth in toy sales is partly fuelled by social breakdown, some of today's biggest sellers are toys that promote a hyperreal domesticity. Toy kitchens and doll's houses showed a surprising boom - perhaps since they allow children to create an idyllic home life, if only in miniature.
But as mummy and daddy know only too well, domestic bliss only lasts for so long. The runaway success of last year was Beyblades, a collection of fighting spinning tops designed for fiercely competitive one-on-one 'battling'. Parents unhappy about such aggressive play can at least be consoled that their children are gaining immensely valuable skills for their future (parenting) lives. Kids are getting older younger, after all.
Esther Addley