Kim Taylor Bennett’s Blog Odyssey

We love Kim Taylor Bennett (that’s her on the left by the way, saying ‘Donkey’ in Native American sign language). Apart from being a telly star of tomorrow, she was formerly the LondonPaper’s blog doyenne and red carpet correspondent, successfully stalking the likes of Justin Timberlake and Bruce Willis while dressed as Shrek and Marge Simpson. No mean feat. 

But her heroine status was truly enshrined in BAD IDEA history at our ‘Art of Confession’ event on May 30, where she put in a four hour marathon stint as a live blogger, reporting on V&A hipsters, Bison Piss vodka, and why Lemmy from Motorhead’s marinades his steak in Jack Daniels whisky. The blog was so good, we promised to post it.

So here it is, in all it’s mad, epic glory. Strap yourself in people…

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“I’m always fascinated by the dirt on the tube and by the greasy patches on the windows, left by people’s dirty hair and slimy foreheads. I like her sneakers (yellow and black vans), her green beret and her gold chains. She walks by and doesn’t notice.

I feel like a steward here in front of everyone but I am as clueless as the rest of the people coming in. I really wish I had some Bison Piss vodka. If you have it with apple juice, it tastes like cinnamon and apple pie.

It’s amazing that this space is free. Do you think anyone ever gives the donation? That man just did, with the leather bag. I think he is here with his mom. I like his tan brogues.

Two men mystified, confused, asking directions from a man in a suit. I’m fascinated by men in cheap suits, big pinstripes. They remind me of my old boss. He wore Paul Smith cufflinks but you just know his suit was cheap polyester. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

Someone actually read what’s going up on screen. They looked at me and laughed at what I was writing! Not laughing at me I hope. If someone wants to buy me a drink that would be great! I wonder if any of these people milling around in the lobby will be going to the tube party piss-up on the circle line tomorrow evening. It’s going to be chaos. Revelers drinking on public transport without a toilet in sight! It sounds like my worst nightmare.

I admire the girl with bare legs. It’s too cold for mine to come out yet. Look at the lady with the tiny black hat perched precariously. They all look like they’ve been to a wedding. Is there a dress code invite that I missed out on? Extravagant hats, yellow plumes, feathered pink cowboy hats. I wish I had a beret so I could fit in!!

Whenever I see a bunch of cranes at a building site it makes me think that the cranes are having a party- a crane party. So for one birthday my boyfriend set up craneparty.blogspot.com for pictures of cranes with amusing captions. My feelings towards cranes have changed in light of the recent crane collapsing on the upper east side of NYC. It’s like crane revenge.

Next week I have to interview Lemmy from Motorhead. I am nervous. He is so rock n roll that he cooks his steak in Jack Daniel’s. People keep asking me where things are but I honestly don’t know. Just for reference. I really don’t know where the seminar rooms are. It’s best to find someone who looks more official than me, like this gentleman in front of me, in the khaki trousers and the dark red shirt. He knows things that I don’t.

They are pretty thorough with their searches here, but not as thorough as at the Astoria. Last night I took my best friend Wayne to see The Black Keys. He was practically strip-searched. Afterwards he said, “I haven’t been that intimate with someone in six months.”

When men wear hats, I always wonder what they’re hiding under them. It’s nearly June and the weather still blows. It’s making me want to jump ship and leave London permanently, shame. The man in the Stussy shirt is being checked. He doesn’t notice that he is part of this or that the man in the tan jacket is part of this. He has glasses. He’s waiting for someone. His wife? A first date?

There’s nothing I detest more than bad funk. Do you think I can hijack the stereo and put on this band from Washington called Fleet Foxes? They make me want to run through a field, naked. I always like a man who can carry off a pink shirt.

I have a really big mouth. My friends take my initials and instead of being Kim Taylor Bennett, I become KBN, the Kim Broadcast Network. Today my mouth got me in trouble. Something flip I said in passing to an ex-colleague has become the talk of the office. It implicates others in a romantic tryst that should have been private. Sometimes I guess when you tell me things it should be followed by the clause: “Kim, keep this to yourself” and then I will.

I love her brown boots and her brown mac. I hope she has some good stories to put in the pyramid. The girl with the white scarf and blonde hair looks like the winner of this year’s Americas Next Top Model. OK, I admit it I’m a sucker for that Tyra banks makeover show for all its over-earnestness. I don’t think she will notice that I’m writing about her. Another man in a pink shirt!

That gentleman has a spectacular handlebar mustache, despite having no hair on his head. I can see that you are talking about me. Hey you! With the flowery dress, I like the smocking detail. That girl loves Phillip Pullman, the girl in the stripes. She is holding his book. Yes you, with the gray leggings, have fun! I wonder what they bought at Harrods today, something fabulous? Something practical? Some naughty lingerie? I love your ginger beard and yet you walk away and don’t notice me! Up the stairs bye! I wonder what confessionals people will divulge tonight. How much will they be willing to spill?

I wish they would play ‘Jump in the line’ by the wonderful Mr. Belafonte and then we could all get up and dance like we’re in the closing sequence of Beetlejuice. I am surprised by the eagerness of people of all ages, grabbing pencils and paper to confess.

Oh no! Don’t point the video camera at me while I’m on the phone! OK I’m off. I’m focused on this concentrating on the people coming through the glass doors, stopping, not really knowing where the hell to go. Well don’t ask me, but if you want to get me a drink, I will certainly drink it. The girl with the fiery hair and grey t-bar shoes hasn’t moved or noticed that I’m writing about her. Oh god, we made eye contact. Tell me where your shoes are from! More men in pink.

I would really love a steaming bowl of miso soup and a huge bento box full of sashimi. Does anyone know where the nearest Japanese restaurant is? I wish I could borrow Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak right now. I also don’t know how to get rid of this ‘no signal’ thing on the screen, so sorry about that. The girl in the brownish coat looks a bit like my friend Rebecca. I nearly shouted to her. That would have been embarrassing.

You are looking at this mystified. Would you like me to write about you? Everyone has wine but me! Injustice! Hey man with the hat, the embroidered hat. Or you, to the right, in the black and white dress. I have that dress, that polka dot one from Primark. She just walked away. There are so many women in death defying wedges. How many wedge injuries do you think there are per year?

OMG! Another pink shirt. That’s seriously the fifth one I’ve seen!

There was a lull but now more people are coming in, eager to tell all! Are you scratching your head at me? He was like a better-looking Hugh Grant. You there in the green flowered dress and the woven handbag. It is a good look for you. You look like my mom and that’s a good thing. Another man with a hat, what is he hiding under it? A receding hairline? A bald patch? I doubt it.

This man is coming to destroy the mechanical harmony of my exhibition. Another man with a tache, I conclude that mustaches and pink shirts are de rigueur. Did I spell that right? I like the way the question mark blooms up when I type it, but this programme makes it really hard to check or edit what I’m typing. You are smiling to the left of me, it’s nice. I like your cat t-shirt. People are digging in their pockets for change, the V&A says thank you very much! The man in front of me looks like he’s wearing a t-shirt covered in tiny Jay Kays circa the space cowboy era of Jamiroquai. I’m sure he isn’t nice.

It’s good to see so many people here, as opposed to getting pissed in a Walkabout in Shepards Bush, getting your purse nicked in Old Street, or getting groped at the Hippodrome. This is a much nicer place to be on a Friday night. I do wish someone would bring me a spring roll though.

Spotted! Another man in a pink shirt, the sixth tonight! That’s it, tomorrow I’m going to Saville row (or maybe TopMan) and buying my boyfriend a pink shirt. I like this man’s quiff-thing. You in the bow tie and satchel, walking, walking, gone. You in the pink mac, why is everyone wearing pink?

I have a confession to make. When my boyfriend goes on tour, I stay up too late watching bad reality TV and the F-word on my computer when I should be sleeping or writing articles. When he leaves the house, I am no longer disciplined. I hope someone will have a juicier confession than that tonight. But it is easier for you because you can be anonymous. I am out here, you just stare and never bring me a spring roll!

That man over there has such big headphones. I wonder if he would wear such big headphones if he knew that some people have a headphones fetish? You think I’m kidding but I used to work at bizarre magazine and I know all about people’s weird fetishes. However, I do like that he is carrying a Discman. How very old school! Hey, you in the California sweater, are you from California? Or do you wish you were? Out he walks but only after he makes a half-half gesture. I don’t know what that means. But I am from California.

OMG! Look who it is! Jamie and Sophie are getting their bags checked. I wonder if they’ve found a house yet for next year. Jamie is screwing up her face, confused. Can’t you read? Finally someone I know! You’re a friendly face in this exposing situation. The man in the pink tie still lingers.

So now my boyfriend’s little sister is here. I wonder if she will have anything to confess for the Bad Idea pamphlet! Nice necklace. There is a girl with a money bag round her waist, smart. I can’t count the number of times I’ve lost my wallet. Oh and that mac with Japanese women on it, where did she get that from? That lady has a Hard Rock Cafe bag. I could murder a burger.

It’s okay to look perplexed. I’m not really sure what I’m doing here either. The other week I had to go on the BBC Radio Asian Network to talk about the charts. So I duly researched what was in the top five of the album charts. At number four was this German band called Scooter. I’d never heard of them but they’ve sold fourteen million records! They sound like my Ibizan nightmare. They’ve covered the theme tune to the Never Ending Story only one of the greatest eighties films of all time. They murdered it and turned it into a techno tune!

Please excuse me while I stuff my face. A lovely gentleman noticed my pleas for a burger and brought me a sausage roll. Brilliant and damn, it is good! You with the yellow jacket and your glorious black shiny heels. Away she walks. People look at me like I am a spy. The man who brought me the sausage roll told me that Will Self once did this but that he was wearing sunglasses, which is of course the smart thing to do. Then you can spy with your eyes and no one is watching or rather no one can see you watching them. The man with the handlebar mustache is back! Come back! Damn, he passes me every time.

The security guard reminds me of the guard in Mannequin, another seminal eighties film. I hope he doesn’t notice that I’m writing about him. Where is his dog? Where is Kim Cattrall!? Before you ask, no, I haven’t seen SATC, the movie yet. Wednesday is the day! I am not ashamed. I can’t wait even though SJP did look like a chicken dressed in tin foil and ready to raost at the recent NYC premiere. I mean roast, typo!

You are very serious, man with the glasses walking away. And you, you are so tall. If you were standing in front of me at a gig, I would be cross. I’m only teasing. Oh no, it’s you, back to ruin my computer. Oh no, he’s walked away. Anyway, you in front of me, have you confessed yet? This is the biggest sausage roll I’ve eaten ever. I recommend them.

If anyone can rock acid wash jeans it’s you. It makes me remember being eight-years-old and living in San Francisco, when it was all about acid wash and Espirit bags. I never thought I would hear Ninety Nine Problems by Jay-Z at the V& A. “I got ninety-nine problems and a bitch ain’t one.” What was all the drama about Jay-Z headlining Glastonbury? Noel Gallagher said “if it [meaning Glastonbury] ain’t broke, then don’t fix it” which I can only assume he applies to his appalling song writing. Grey boots to my right! Amazing, the man with the pink tie has finally left.

 Jump on her shoulders, there’s nothing better than a piggyback, especially if you have been wearing heels all day. Feather hat and leopard print skirt swans out the door. All the hats are leaving, why? Where are they going? Nice owl necklace, I have one very similar. Because you are standing in front of me, I feel I should write but I really just need the bathroom. Was that over-share? Not as much of an over-share as many of the blogs on the Internet.

I’ve quit smoking but when I’ve had some wine I really want a drag. Just one, but only if it’s vanilla rollies, which I doubt any of you have, right? Next week I’m interviewing Rivers from Weezer. Have you seen their new video? Wait, is this Bel Biv Devoe? Where have you been? Okay I’m going to the bathroom now. Please don’t steal my stuff, thanks!

So, I have a real obsession with bathroom hand dryers in that they never ever work apart from the ones here, which are magic. Not you again! Have you confessed yet? What was your subject? The tallest man in the building has made five confessions, that is astronomical. He must have had a lot to get off his chest. You in the shorts and black tights, I know your black-heeled brogues are from New Look. I have a pair myself in black and white. I nearly bought them again because now they are on sale for fifteen quid! Now the music is good, or maybe it is just the wine.

I bought my friend a buggy recently. Do you have any idea how high tech and complicated baby buggies have become? I only say this because I can see one right now. It looks like the four-wheel drive of baby buggies. Oh you, in the glasses, I wrote about you earlier and you turned your back and walked out. Now I see you are back but still ignoring that I am writing about you. Have you confessed? So serious! Yes you in the dark coat. So did anyone watch the Eurovision song contest this past weekend? I love that shit. Am I allowed to swear? Anyway, we had a Eurovision party and yeah, Russia won, but we lost Russia and I was Ukraine in the sweepstake, so I totally cleaned up the money! Still, I think Sebastien Tellier should have won. That man is the don.

A little girl is taking handfuls of pencils as she leaves. It’s a good thing. She will probably draw lots of pictures with them because, lets face it, grown-ups never use pencils anymore. I think my ass is actually numb, I’ve been sitting here since 6pm. Vertiginous heels click-clacking out the door, exchanging contact details, writing in a filofax. Old school. Screw a Blackberry. There is a man to my right, who is talking to his baby. It is too cute! I wonder what he is saying. “Son… when you get older, your first car will probably not be as pimped-out as this three wheeler buggy you currently roll in.”

Hey you in the Spiderman t-shirt by the pillar, do you think Tobey Maguire did Spidey justice? Have you seen the Indiana Jones movie, where Shia Leboeuf flies through the air on vines like he was Spiderman? Harrison is still hot but come on, that film is beyond lame. Aliens! Please! The crystal skull looks like some plastic with cellophane in it. It’s worse and more ghetto than my She-Ra castle from 1987.

The man in front of me is so dapper with his hat and tan jacket. What do you think? You leaning nonchalantly on the sign. I have forty-five minutes to go. The man on my left looks like an art teacher. He is going to the bathroom. Your red hair is lovely… and out they walk. Sophie and Jamie, walk, walk, walk. Go and get drunk. Well they deserve to! They’ve just finished their second year exams at UCL. Bye! It’s unnerving having you standing there! I’ve run out, why don’t you to the left of me do something exciting so I can write about it! Hmm? Not biting.

Next weekend I am going to Germany to spend some time with eighty thousand German metal fans. Are you jealous? I’m a little scared. I will pack my metal toecap shoes in preparation for serious moshing. Rage Against the Machine and Metallica are playing. How can anyone take Metallica seriously after their embarrassing therapy movie, Some Kind of Monster. It is one of my favourite films but only because its unintentionally hilarious.

They’re leaving in droves. I’m guessing they picked up the second edition of today’s confessional and now they are free. And I am still stuck here, dreaming of Cadburys. There goes a girl with a t-shirt that says you rock my world, which makes me think of the movie Singles. That much maligned Cameron Crowe grunge-era film, starring Kyra Sedgwick and featuring a multitude of band cameos- Pearl Jam, Sound Garden, Alice in Chains. Many mock it as a schmaltzy rom-com with some token awesome bands. But I maintain that it is far superior to anything Meg Ryan starred in post when Harry Met Sally.

You two aren’t from here. You are far too cool and glamourous to be from London. So did you confess? These two in front of me are going to pick up a load of k. They are going to fall down a k-hole. No joke dude, that stuff is horse tranquilizer. The couple that are leaving, walking out the door said they didn’t confess on paper because they are honest people. But they just confessed to me.”

Posted by Jack Roberts in Other | July 31, 2008 6:01PM |