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Dani asks why we pick our partners with a little help from Richard and Judy

It appears there are reasons to be cheerful, the TV has given us an early Christmas present. Richard and Judy are no more… only one year left and they will be saying good-bye. Many of you will probably be sad about this, and I am to a certain extent, (although I’m not entirely sure why). Richard and Judy were on This Morning when I was little and I feel sad for the nostalgia fact, but as I got older, I found them more and more uncomfortable to watch. Mainly because of Richard. This is a relationship column and Richard and Judy (at least on TV) look to have a rather one-sided one. Mainly consisting of Richard always being right. I cannot watch anything containing them as I find it too uncomfortable. And I wonder how many other people are stuck in that situation?

“If I was dating some unbelievably gorgeous guy I would feel quite plain and dowdy”

It is clear that Richard has aged slightly better than Judy and I feel I spend my time wondering how that makes Judy feel. Like walking down the street in Brighton, there are plenty of times you see couples, where one or the other is obviously more attractive. It’s a crap thing to say and even worse to write about but it’s true, everyone at some point or another has seen an odd looking couple and wondered why two people are together when they look so odd. It is said that our perfect match is someone of equal attractiveness, but I don’t entirely believe that. Especially if, when you are 25 you are perfectly suited and then when you reach 50 you look like a mother and son!

It is also said that your perfect boyfriend/girlfriend will resemble your father/mother. The whole idea of that is quite scary, but if I look at all the people I know in relationships that are going really well, you can generally see a resemblance.

And then if you apply these rules to your own relationships do they make you feel happy or sad? I know if I was dating some unbelievably gorgeous (absolute vodka Sex in the City style guy) I would feel quite plain and dowdy, and I would constantly be worried that he was looking at all the girls in his league. But if I was dating someone of equal attractiveness to me, I would probably feel more confident in the situation. Although I hate to say it, I do go for men who are mistaken as being my dad’s son. The dark hair blue eyes combo, generally quite moody and brooding, (although the last two could be because of my love affair with all things Bronté). But nevertheless, nearly every boyfriend I have had has been mistaken for being my dad’s son while I am the girlfriend and seemingly no relation at all.

It feels awful to write that, its just the sub-conscience cogs working. We don’t leave the house on a Saturday night saying how we want to meet a man/woman who reminds us of our mum/dad, we do it without realising. Maybe Judy’s father was young looking and obnoxious with a tendency to butt in and perhaps Richard’s mother looked older and always backed down and never had the chance to have her opinion heard!

Andrew Kay on the right accompaniments for roasts and the correct protocol for gravy

Hand on heart I can say that I approve of the new age of pub food. Oh I know I had a moan recently about one, but everyone can have a bad day. They did and as a consequence so did I.

The one thing I cannot be doing though, is mean food. Smart I like, parsimonious I detest. One or two places I note are serving dolly portions of excellent food. It looks pretty, but not for long enough to satisfy a hearty appetite.

My current favourite pubs to dine in remain pretty static. I love The Eagle, I’m there now writing this, Ginger Pig is a phenomenon, Chimney House thrills still and they have now added The Wellington in College Place Kemp Town. The Bull at Ditchling hits the spot too, lunch at the Preston Park Tavern continues to be my favourite hidey hole, Circus Circus is still brilliant and unbeatable value and, of course, I have dined superbly further afield, The Griffin in Fletching and The Hind’s Head in Bray where Mister Blumenthal weaves his magic.

‘‘I also like to apply gravy my way. Some people like it on their meat, I like it on my vegetables’’

Recently, my muckers M and J have been waxing about one of their locals, The Hanover. Now neither of the girls has a dainty appetite although J has an unerring knack of choosing badly – not bad dishes but dishes that in some way are not to her taste. She hates vanilla so was aghast when a dish of scallops and mash she ordered arrived with the potato flavoured with vanilla. I’m with her on that one, that’s just dirty.

At the weekend I cat-sat for them and decided to give The Hanover a whirl. I had been before but not stayed long as they had a ‘no dogs’ policy. I am pleased to say that this has now gone, so Holly and I went along with AA Gill for Sunday lunch. By that I mean I took the papers and not the person. How he moans, he makes me seem jolly.

I went to the bar and ordered more food than I knew I could eat. It’s hard to do a proper job on one plate of nosh.

I ordered a pint of Stowford Press, I’m in a cider mood at the moment, and found a small table. It takes time to settle anywhere with the dog in tow as everyone wants to say hello. Well almost everyone, there are a few po-faced people who still think dogs should not be in pubs serving food. I promise you my dog is as clean as any child and far better behaved than most.

Pretty soon my starter had arrived but not before I had re-affirmed in my mind that The Sunday Times Style mag is now a sort of Sloaney Womans’ Realm. Too girly for words these days, full of women writing in because they cannot find the right dress for a party or wedding with their measly budget of a gazillion pounds or clever things to do with three ingredients. I know what I would do with the three ingredients and it involves stuffing and a certain kind of journalism. Some holes just need to be plugged.

My soup more than made up for this. Butternut squash and ginger, rich and creamy with a gentle hum of spice. It came in a wide soup plate and I know I should have stopped before the end but I could not bring myself to leave a drop. I resisted the bread though, only taking the tiniest nibble.

I was of course saving myself for roast lamb. I saw the beef come out and that was crowned with a massive Yorkshire pudding. I ordered the lamb to see if it too would have the pud. I am pleased to say that it did not. Beef and Yorkshires, lamb and mint sauce, pork and apple, chicken and bread sauce, these are the rules! Behave!

My lamb took a little while but I will forgive them as the nice waiter, when she took away my soup plate, thought that I was having the one course. Given the scale of things, quite a reasonable assumption.

When it did come it was monumentally generous. The plate arrived piled with proper roast potatoes, not those horrible jobs produced in deep fat fryers. On top were endless slices of leg of lamb. Now lamb is the one meat that I love rare, and I also like it well done. This was well done, simply falling apart and there was so much of it – really, loads.

Vegetables came on the side, a nice selection of red and green cabbage, good carrots with carrot flavour, so rare, parsnips and the first Brussels sprouts of the season. I know that there has been no frost yet but they were good all the same and cooked as I like them, firm but yielding and not al dente. Al dente sprouts are the work of Lucifer.

I rather wish that the gravy had also been on the side. Sadly, I sensed that the pan had caught slightly as there was a hint of a bitter, burnt flavour there, not ruined but not perfect. I also like to apply gravy my way. Some people like it on their meat, I like it on my vegetables. I was thrilled to see that there was no Yorkshire pudding though, obviously a cook of integrity.

I ate as much as humanly possible, even giving up on the idea of pud too, but I was beaten.

I had the pint of cider with it and my bill came in at £18. Not bargain basement but certainly no rip-off, I really did feel it was good wholesome cooking and excellent value. The atmosphere too was good and the few that spotted me wielding my camera had the good manners to not stare but actually came over to ask what I was doing.

The Hanover, 242 Queen’s Park Road, Brighton
01273 679902 www.thehanoverpub.com

Celebrity portraits to be auctioned at The Dome

If, like me, you are a fan of anything even vaguely celebrity-centric, you’d best get yourself along to the Brighton Dome quickly, for a fantastic new photography exhibition called The Dome Sessions.

Brighton-based photographer Grant Scott is showing a selection of prints from his photographic archive of the performers who have appeared at the Dome over the course of a year. Each beautiful portrait, from Paolo Nutini to Rufus Wainwright, has been taken at a different location within the building, revealing its distinctive architecture and giving visitors an ‘access all areas’ glimpse of a year at Brighton Dome.

The exhibition, which runs in the Founders Room until 30 December, includes artists such as Lenny Henry, Richard Hawley, Akram Khan, The Feeling and Madeleine Peyroux.

Visitors also have a chance to bid for the prints on display themselves, by entering into a silent auction on site. The visitor who bids the highest amount for each print will be able to hang it pride of place in their lounge, with all proceeds being reinvested in the Dome’s fantastic programme of arts events. I’ve got my eye on McFly!

Hellraisers hit town

I hear that two of the UK’s biggest hellraisers are due to make a star appearance at our very own Brighton Centre – on two consecutive nights!

Yes, it’s true – ‘Rehab’ singer Amy Winehouse and Babyshambles front man Pete Doherty both have performances scheduled in town in the same week, Babyshambles on Sunday 25 November and La Winehouse on Monday 26 November.

I wonder if the two will meet and, if they do, will Brighton be big (and well-stocked) enough for the both of them?

Preston back with Camille

Hot news from the tabloids: Ordinary Boys lead singer, Preston is back with his ex-girlfriend. After his very public split with fellow Celebrity Big Brother contestant Chantelle Houghton, the pop star has gone back to his first love, French-born Camille Aznar.

Preston and Chantelle married after a whirlwind romance and sold the rights to OK! magazine for a six-figure sum. Since the recent break up, Preston has been seen on several dates with Camille and a friend of the couple says that they are “giving it another chance.”

Jo Brooks is director of Brighton-based PR company JBPR Ltd
01273 622555, www.jb-pr.com

Victoria Nangle calls for comics to dress in a more appropriate manner

One childhood memory I will always cherish is my brother and I rolling around in fits of laughter for the entire 6 O’Clock News. We’d do that whole dimming down of laughter to slight guffaws, then catch each others’ eye and explode into further giggles providing a tide of hysterics throughout the terrors and horrors being delivered by our hapless newsreader. But really it was his own fault. He should never have worn that tie. We just couldn’t believe anyone with such a serious job could consider wearing something so hilarious. And so whenever it went back to the studio we went back to rolling around on the ground, grabbing our sides and giggling ourselves silly.

“It’s nice to dress up a little, but don’t make the clothes the star”

Thus is the power of the inappropriate costume. Beware performers of whatever ilk you may be, if you are visual you could end up miserable. Consider carefully just what you’re wearing before you step up to tread those boards.

Comics of old used to wear flashy jackets with wide lapels and a badly fitted hairpiece. This was their costume and that was that. Upon seeing a comic the other day in a spangly shirt, I’ve gotta say, it took me a good 30 seconds of concentration to get past the dazzling sequins of his attire in order to start paying attention to his material. Not the best way forward in my mind. Similarly the old stalwart of wearing black on stage to make yourself look slimmer should be banned. It may have escaped everyone’s attention but the backdrop on stage is usually black too. All you’d need is a black balaclava and you could start doing magical floating hands with your mutlicoloured gloves as the rest of you disappears into the background, quite literally. If you’re going up there to show off, make sure you can be seen. You’d think it was a fairly basic understanding on all parties parts.

It’s nice to dress up a little, but don’t make the clothes the star. There are special shows for them already – they’re called fashion shows, duh. If a comic looks comfortable, without being a wholey complete scruffball and looking neighbourly with ‘Stig of the Dump’, or equally turning up in their PJs, you’ve already got the audience trusting you. Comic’s comfy – everything must be going to plan. Comic’s got a blindingly dazzling sequin jacket, the audience can’t see them without the stage lights wrecking their corneas. Stop it now!

Costume has always been intrinsically respected as a part of performance – it’s why they get their own BAFTAs and the like for them. Maybe, with this respect in mind, ITN should invest in their own costume department. To stop 13-year-olds getting the giggles at ties.