Yesterday once more

As Sandy Denny once sang, "Who knows where the time goes?" Maybe she also spent the Christmas holidays in a drunken fog, just outside of Sheffield. Either way, that's the reason that p0pvulture has been quieter than the output of Cheryl Cole's microphone for the last few days. But now we're up and running again, and counting down to the New Year.

So with that in mind, I thought it might be a good idea to review 2010 and take stock of the weird and wonderful things that the world of popular culture has thrown our way over the last 12 months. I've done my best to document it all, so now let's take a look back and see what went on. Well, if it's good enough for Clive James...

Hollywood was abuzz about two movies as 2010 kicked off. Avatar was packing them in, with its promise of eye-watering visuals and eye-straining 3D effects. Further exploring the technology's ability to damage eye-sight, the porn industry decided to take a leaf out of James Cameron's book, by applying an extra dimension to its own Pandora's box of tricks.

Cinemagoers always had the option of checking in with everyone's favourite detective instead, as Guy Ritchie shared his vision of the unique relationship between Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. Unfortunately, many people found their mano-a-mano relationship to be a little too heavy on the mano, making it feel like a two-hour game of soggy biscuit.

Meanwhile, the Daily Mail was busy getting its bully on, taking potshots at the underdressed, the overdressed, and the wombling free. And it wasn't just the women who found themselves squirming under the spotlight, Cristiano Ronaldo's ad campaign for Armani underwear showed off his distinctive tackle.

Jennifer Love Hewitt spoke proudly about her confidence in using a glue-gun on her unmentionables, whereas Heidi Montage revealed the results of her extreme makeover, which were just, well, unmentionable. Lady Gaga inspired a whole bunch of video tributes, Taylor Momsen showed off a personality as dark and messy as the shit around her eyes, and Bear Grylls rinsed his out with a makeshift enema.

GMTV was also focused on cleaning house, as it turned the world's cosiest sofa into an ejector seat. As viewers placed bets on which presenters would face the axe, the show's hosts attempted to smile through their upset, much like Boyzone, who reformed for the world's most morbid pop video.

Rather predictably, February followed January like Kerry follows Jordan. And so we plunged head-first into the eighth and final season of 24, to see Jack Bauer working through more rubber hose than an out-of-town B&Q. Sadly, Jack's love of torture seemed to catch on, as a military man was found to have waterboarded his step-daughter in order to 'encourage' her to try harder in school. As an aside, she may also have confessed to an attempted plane hijacking in 2007.

Jack wasn't New York's only problem this year, as the race for the Governor's office saw a notorious Manhattan madam starting up her own campaign. In fact, February seemed to be all about the change of pace, as Dennis the Menace finally went soft, and the Pope turned wannabe DJ, with his recommendations for the best rock albums of all time. Even Desert Island Discs decided to change things up, by taking a more populist approach in selecting its guests. Listeners complained that this was the radio equivalent of mutton dressed as Spam.

But the most shocking image overhaul of the year took place on the golf course, as one of the world's most celebrated sportsmen showed an entirely different side to his personality. It turns out that countless women had enjoyed a Tiger in their tank, and as a result none of his former sponsors wanted to see Woods for the sleaze.

Ashley Cole didn't fare much better here in the UK, as he broke the heart of the Nation's Sweetheart by cheating on her with a bunch of BOGOF slappers. We all knew that he'd done it, because he didn't have the brains to cover his tracks. It probably didn't help matters that he'd sent a bunch of incriminating pictures and texts either.  If only he'd watched the highly publicised live episode of EastEnders, which finally revealed that Stacey was Archie's murderer - a secret that the show's producers had managed to keep for months.

Another long-suppressed secret from within the corporation's vaults finally saw the light of day, as it was revealed that the makers of Doctor Who occasionally used political subtexts in their storytelling. The Daily Mail was delighted that it had finally found the smoking gun sonic screwdriver it needed to prove the BBC's long-standing left-wing bias. Unfortunately, the rest of the world had simply rolled its eyes and moved onto the Sarah Jane Adventures.

But perhaps the most momentous event in February, was the first birthday of this blog. Although it sometimes feels like an albatross made of binary code and hyperlinks, it's actually grown into something I'm quite proud of. It's an outlet for my frustrations, and a forum for discussing the things that capture my imagination. And I'm thankful that I have a handful of committed readers who bother to check in every day. Tomorrow, March and April fall under the microscope.

Who's sorry now?

It's interesting that, on the eve of p0pvulture's first birthday, a story has dominated the front pages of every major newspaper - one that throws up important questions about the very nature of celebrity, and the relationship we have with those who spend their lives in the unforgiving glow of its spotlight.

Tiger Woods gave an extraordinary press conference yesterday, in which he talked about values, integrity and entitlement. The purpose of this internationally broadcast mea culpa was to demonstrate the depth of Tiger's regret for his self-destructive behaviour.

It's easy to scoff at someone who claims to be in rehab for sex-addiction. In a culture that thrives on victimhood, it seems like a clever way of claiming 'diminished responsibility' for simply being unable to keep it in one's pants.

But Tiger's act of atonement seemed much more sincere and carefully crafted than the majority of half-hearted, mealy-mouthed apologies that usually pop up whenever a sportsman is found to be playing in the 'away' kit. Then again, perhaps the scale of Tiger's misadventures warranted a more considered response.

When the story first broke about Tiger's Herculean libido, everyone was aghast that someone so driven and focused could have imploded on such a massive scale. This was like the Hadron Large Collider of celebrity sex scandals.

As more and more cocktail waitresses and porn stars came out of the woodwork to claim their 15 minutes of limelight, the story took on its own snowball-like momentum. Albeit one that managed to smash its way through an Alpine lap-dancing bar on its irrevocable descent.

Our delirious press couldn't believe its luck. Here, at last, was a story that allowed them to indulge both their iconoclastic tendencies, and their propensity for misogynistic character assassination. In their eyes, no-one could escape this story unscathed. Tiger was portrayed as an arrogant, deceitful letch, his wife Elin Nordegren a golf-club wielding spouse batterer, and all the other women as homewrecking alley cats.

Since then, Tiger's been keeping a low profile, attempting to repair the damage done to his reputation, his marriage and his Escalade. Clearly needing some time to himself to get his life in order, Tiger found his corporate sponsors more than willing to facilitate his solitude.

So it was interesting to see him standing in front of all those cameras yesterday, apologising to the world. Despite the fact that his contrition was palpable and genuine, it was clearly insufficient for some. A column in the Boston Herald ran with the headline "Hey, Tiger Woods: Apology not accepted" - as though it's up to the rank and file to confer forgiveness for the transgressions of our public figures.

Did Tiger Woods owe the world an apology? Has he let us all down by having about as much self-control as a morbidly obese diner attacking the all-you-can-eat buffet?

There are certainly people to whom he needs to apologise, not least the sponsors he misled and the family he betrayed. But as for the rest of us, is our emotional state really tied up in the morality of our sporting legends, or any other celebrity for that matter?

Perhaps we owe him an apology. After all, our insatiable hunger for gory details and tawdry exposes can't have helped matters. But more importantly, we have all helped to create a cult of celebrity that convinces those who achieve it that they answer to different standards than the rest of us.

As Tiger said yesterday: "I knew my actions were wrong. But I convinced myself that normal rules didn't apply... I thought I could get away with whatever I wanted to. I felt that I had worked hard my entire life and deserved to enjoy all the temptations around me. I felt I was entitled. Thanks to money and fame, I didn't have far -- didn't have to go far to find them."

Writing in The Independent today, James Lawton commented that Tiger's apology made it clear that he "had done wrong and wanted to do better". Here's hoping we can say the same.

Thanks for sharing

Last year it was Megan Fox who was gobbling up the column inches with an endless stream of borderline-incoherent egocentric rambling. Between the release of Transformers 2 and Jennifer's Body, it seemed that she couldn't open her pouty mouth without sticking a pair of Louboutins in there.

But Megan's motormouth is nothing compared with John Mayer, who just can't help embarrassing himself anytime someone waves a microphone in his general direction.

Although he's an acclaimed blues musician, John's media profile is largely thanks to the fact that he's been inside more Hollywood women than an egg-white omelette. Since 2006, when he began dating buxom brain-donor Jessica Simpson, John has become a tabloid staple. It reached a point where he felt the need to steer clear of drugs, clubs and red carpet events, as well as swearing off dating any more celebrities, since he felt that it was detracting him from his music.

He may have ditched the lifestyle, but he seems to be perfectly happy in the spotlight, and has been giving great copy to a bunch of journalists who must be thanking their lucky stars that there was enough tape in their dictaphone.

Amongst the recent revelations, he's told interviewers that he masturbates at an Olympian standard, has a 'white supremacist dick' and compared old-flame Jessica to "sexual napalm". Although I'm not sure whether that means she was incendiary and destructive, or just that he liked the way she smelled first thing in the morning.

He's even weighed in on his fellow celebrities, claiming that Tiger Woods' only mistake was being married: "Tiger Woods' problems come from him being married. The end. If Tiger Woods was single, and he texted a girl and said 'I wanna wear your ass like a hat,' why would that ever hit the news?"

Unfortunately, this rambling, say-anything approach has finally landed him in hot water, with some racially charged language in a Playboy interview upsetting quite a few people. Given the fallout, it's hardly surprising that Mayer has tucked his overworked tail between his legs and apologised for forgetting what he's supposed to be famous for.

As well as grinding his Nashville concert to a halt to issue a tearful mea culpa to his audience, he took to twitter to explain his motivation: “It started as an attempt to not let the waves of criticism get to me, but it’s gotten out of hand and I’ve created somewhat of a monster. I wanted to be a blues guitar player. And a singer. And a songwriter. Not a shock jock. I don’t have the stomach for it.”

He might not have the stomach for it, but old habits die hard. As he once sang on his debut album, “My stupid mouth has got me in trouble, I said too much again.”

They've been putting a Tiger in their tank

It's been almost a week now since the stories of Tiger Woods' extra-curricular activities first hit the headlines. Since then, the papers have been filled with a series of shocking revelations about a man so dull that he wouldn't know a scandal if he hit it with a sand wedge.

He's spent the last thirteen years grinning all the way to the bank, thanks to a host of tediously unimaginative but spectacularly lucrative sponsorship deals, not to mention a staggering haul of competition prizes. Having got his career as a professional sportsman off to a spectacular start, he hit a slump in the middle of the decade. But thanks to a swing adjustment, he was soon back on form. But now it sounds as though he's been adjusting his swing again, this time in the direction of some comely wenches.

The National Enquirer was the first to break the story, alleging Tiger had been pitching in the rough with nightclub manager Rachel Uchitel‎. Predictably, the golfing gossip-vacuum claimed that there was nothing in the stories, stating "the many false, unfounded, and malicious rumors that are currently circulating about my family and me are irresponsible".

Then something really weird happened - Tiger crashed his SUV into a fire hydrant outside his house and was rushed to hospital with facial lacerations. As the world waited on tenterhooks to find out whether Tiger would ever drive again (see, golfing puns are the gifts that keep on giving), it emerged that his panicked wife had 'rescued' her injured husband. However, when it emerged that she'd done so by smashing her way through the Cadillac Escalade with a pair of golf clubs, eyebrows were raised in suspicion.

It didn't take an overly active imagination to picture Mrs Woods confronting the grin-happy golfer with the Enquirer's revelations, then chasing him out of the house brandishing his most precious clubs. Distracted by the screaming banshee running down the driveway, Tiger smashes into the fire hydrant, only for his scorned woman to start attacking the back of the car. Police arrive, calmness descends and lips seal. Move over Columbo, taxi for Poirot.

But then the plot thickened again today, as it emerged that a cocktail waitress has been having a long-running affair with the prodigious putter. According to Jaimee Grubbs he's been playing in her bunker for over two years now, and who could blame him? She's the classy looking one in the picture below.

Just kidding -she's the skank on the left, who looks like she'd cut you if you looked at her funny. Don't panic - I said 'funny'.

There are concerns that some of Tiger's lucrative sponsorship deals could be in jeopardy if it turns out he's been rinsing his balls elsewhere. But I can't imagine why. Eldrick Tont Woods (is it any wonder he prefers Tiger?) is so resolutely uncontroversial, it makes a pleasant change to see him in the news for something more interesting than the pleat in his chinos.

After Boris Becker's broom-cupboard baby, and Andre Agassi's crystal-meth abuse, it seems that scandal is all the rage in the sporting world. Maybe, if we all wish really hard, the next 'sports personality of the year award' might even go to someone with a personality.