Pynchon

It was a good quote. Even better when Michael Caine says it. (5 points if you can name the film and who he is referring to?) Maybe it sums up how I see myself, or how I would like to see myself, if only reality didn't intrude and I wasn't such a chickenshit.

Yesterday I didn't care much about being logical or being reasonable and I would just have loved to have seen the world burn.

Bad day. Fuck it.

Anyway... Nicer things.

Here are links to photos of the wedding and reception here, here and here, courtesy of Sarah, Stef and Mark. Lorraine and I are lurking here and there. Lorraine just loves her big, red, shiny face and as for me... Well, in one of the photos I look utterly wasted, but still with a tight hold on my beer.

I need to make a little announcement.

I am going to have a little break from the blog. Recently I don't think that I have had anything interesting to say. I am going to do something different on the computer.

It is not a permanent break. I will be back and I will be around. Anybody who is inclined to worry, please don't. I am fine. I just want to stop the routine for a short time. Lorraine has said that I need to reevaluate a couple of things and that is what I will be doing.

Hell, I might get bored and be back tomorrow...



(Dramatic stuff, John. Why don't you just cut off your ear and throw it into the river? Tortured artist? Bollocks.)

Labels: Quote, Socialising

"In their desperation they turned to a man they didn't fully understand. Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

Labels: Quote

My word, Hen and LB's wedding reception must have been a mighty fine event. I have just had a quick swing around the blogs of the people who I know that attended and absolutely nobody has posted a word about it, as of yet. I suppose everybody is still recovering (I could have screamed when Lorraine turned on the light in the hotel room, this morning) and/or travelling home.

No doubt there will be a million photos to come. (None taken by me, by the way. It's not anything I have ever gotten into.) I will add links to those pictures when they turn up, because a picture is worth a thousand words. In lieu of that let me say that Lorraine and I had a great and fine time. It was lovely to meet up with Stef and Sherry, Mark and Ellen and Mr. X, Tim (the troubles of the 11th track, eh?) and C (really nice cakes, seriously) and, of course, Hen and LB and Maddie. (Very weird seeing Maddie running around as a real life person. I've only ever seen her in pictures before now.)

We were chuffed to be invited. It was just a shame that we had to leave around 11pm. The reasons for that were mainly due to a too early start from Birmingham for us, too much drinking (by me) during the day to nullify the effects of a fraught couple of hours at Lorraine's rich friend Dolores' house (I may go into that tomorrow), and Lorraine developing a major headache. Shame. I was just building up to doing "Dock Of The Bay" on the karaoke (Lorraine's favourite song). It would have left the room in tears. Actually the room was in tears quite a few times, with some of the renditions on offer. ("The Greatest Love Of All"??? Shame on you, Sir.)

Anyway, Lorraine and I wish all of the happiness in the world to Hen and LB. Thanks for inviting us to share in a little bit of it.

Labels: Bloggers, Socialising

The plan.

Friday night. We chill. No panic, no hassle, no stress. We watch TV, we do nothing.

Saturday morning. I lay out the stuff I want to take to Nottingham and Lorraine packs them into a small travelling case along with the stuff she wants to take. We leave the house at 9:40 precisely. We catch the bus. We catch the train. We arrive in Nottingham. We visit Lorraine's appalling millionairess friend and have lunch. (Hey, it kills the time until we can book into the hotel.) We have the craic.

The reality.

Friday night. Actually pretty good. We watched a couple of episodes of series 1 "Scrubs" (the first appearance of Jordan - what a woman!). I did the washing up. I surfed the net and posted on the blog. Lorraine went to bed. I watched "The IT Crowd" and had a wank to the Adult Channel 10 minute freeview.

Saturday. I am up early. I shower. I lay my stuff out on the bed. Lorraine gets up, scowls at me, goes downstairs and...

She is on the laptop downstairs playing Solitaire. She has been playing Solitaire for an hour or so.

She has packed nothing.

We leave the house in 1 hour and 7 minutes.

I'm just going to kick her up the arse. I may see some of you later. Or I may not.

Labels: Lorraine, Time

It has been a bit of a disappointing week, blogwise, but I don't suppose every week can be a maelstrom of activity, now can it? Anyway, I couldn't be particularly arsed. I had, as Lorraine so succinctly puts it, "One on me".

Still, I have not exactly sat staring at the wall doing nothing.

This week I have...

1. Watched television.

Over the past month, BBC 3 have been repeating all of the recent "Doctor Who" series and specials, from Christopher Ecclestone to David Tennant. I have not watched them all of the repeats religiously, but I must say that what I have watched again, I have really enjoyed.

This week the climax of series 3 finally arrived with appearances of Derek Jacobi as Professor Yana and John Simm as Mr. Saxon. I really hope that one of those actors reappears in the next series. UK viewers will know which one I mean. I thought he was over the top and insane and cruel and just marvellous. (No spoilers for foreign friends who are still watching "Doctor Who". I believe that abroad the latest series is still being broadcast.)

I've also been watching "Heroes" on BBC2 (we have just reached the "Six Months Ago" story) which I am really enjoying. Last night I watched "Fonejacker" (never seen it before) and I laughed like a hyena and "Dog Face" (ditto) that was kind of terrible, but it had some moments.

2. Read books.

I have finished "The Blind Assassin" by Margaret Atwood, which I thought was really good. A really engrossing read. I think it is the first Booker Prize winner that I have ever read. Maybe I will dig out a few more of them.

I am now halfway through reading "Making History" by Stephen Fry, about which I have mixed feelings.

"Making History" is quite obviously a Stephen Fry book (he always uses 3 words when he could quite easily get away with 1.) It has (I think, but I may be wrong) a bit of gay subtext that is about to come to the fore. It has got the most obvious Time Travel plot of all time, which would normally have been rejected by anybody who has read any Science Fiction as being total cliche from start to end. It ignores the whole principle of time paradoxes. It contains lazy passages where, I feel, Mr. Fry just couldn't be bothered to write it properly.

(So you are not enjoying it then, John?)

Au contraire! "Making History" satisfies the only requirement of a book and that is to keep you turning the pages because you want to see what happens next.

3. Working.

After the release of the new organisation chart (on which I am positioned just above the guy who cleans the toilets) the new M.D. deemed to pay us a visit to do a morale boosting presentation to the troops. I thought that Max Headroom had disappeared many years ago, but obviously I was wrong.

Max was blonde and blue eyed. Slick hair. Nice suit. He spoke well, I'll give him that, but his spiel was so full of little jokes and, aww shucks, self depreciating, I'm-just-like-you modest sentiments about himself and his role in The Corporation, that I wish I had had a grenade to toss into the centre of the room to end it all.

Suit. Salesman. Shark. Nazi youth Conservative poster boy. Tosser. Cunt.

Of course at the end everybody clapped like seals, including Lorraine who was sitting next to me. I sat on my hands, fingering my crack (the highlight of my day) and scowled. Lorraine told me to "Stop it".

4. Told Lorraine that she looked great.

Lorraine had her hair done last night. She was due to have her hair done on Sunday, but we will be travelling back from Nottingham. I compared Lorraine favourably to Vanessa Feltz. It didn't go down well. (How was I to know?)

5. Got better.

The dizziness stopped once the earache started. Maybe it was something to do with my inner ear? The earache has also stopped.

We are in Nottingham tomorrow at the social event of the year. (Informal, thank God! I have not worn by wicked blue suit since 2004. I doubt at this moment in time that I would be able to navigate my belly into the trousers. I would be fucked if I really had to dress up for a bit of a do.) Maybe we will see some of you there. If not, I will be back on Sunday.

Labels: Reading, Television, The Corporation, Time

I am here early. There was a flashing light on my router that I had not seen there before. This was unacceptable. I turned the router off. I turned it back on. The flashing light stopped... er... flashing. More importantly, the router still works.

That is what you call IT Support. Obviously I am a genius. (Pats myself on the back.)

Has anybody been watching "The IT Crowd" on Channel 4? Almost like watching a documentary.

Labels: Computers, Television

During the daytime I sit at work and wish I was at home. I imagine all of the constructive things that I could be doing.

During the evening I sit at home and find it hard to think of anything constructive to do, never mind anything interesting to write.

La di da di da...

That was my 500th post of my current regeneration. Well done John!

Labels: Boredom

Write, write, write. Just to fill the silence.

I have a joke.

Three dead bodies turn up at the mortuary. All of the bodies have very big smiles on their faces.

The Coroner calls the police to tell them his results after the examination.

First body: "Frenchman, 60, died of heart failure whilst making love to his mistress hence the enormous smile, Inspector", says the Coroner.

Second body: "Scotsman, 25, won a thousand pounds on the lottery, spent it all on whisky. Died of alcohol poisoning, hence the smile."

The Inspector asked, "But, what of the third body?"

"Ah", says the coroner. "This is the most unusual one. Paddy from Belfast, 30, struck by lightning."

"Why is he smiling then?", inquires the Inspector.

"He thought he was having his picture taken."

********

I felt a little dizzy on the bus on the way home from work, but other than that, today I was absolutely fine.

Labels: Humour, Thoughts

Today, the plan was that I was going to see "Shoot 'Em Up". In the end I didn't.

This morning I ran around like a maniac cleaning up the leaves our half of the front drive and then I went to have my haircut. It drained me. A ridiculous state of affairs. I ended up chilling in front of "Pimpernel Smith" (practically Leslie Howard's last film, and an absolute classic - if you don't believe me you should check out Leslie Howard's final, back lit monologue to the Nazi villain, which is a brilliant piece of cinema) and "The First Wives Club" (chick flick crowd pleaser, Lorraine loved it), on one or other of the Sky Movie channels. Then I fell asleep.

It's not right and it's not good. I shouldn't be so tired. I don't suppose I am very well, but I intend to carry on as normal. I do not want to panic anybody, especially Lorraine, who, by the way, is convinced that I am about to drop dead with a heart attack. I don't think it is anything like that. The last time I went down with something like this, it was eventually diagnosed as a non contagious virus and a course of antibiotics fixed it. Maybe if I can finally get to see the Doctor the current thing will be diagnosed as exactly the same thing?

It ain't gonna stop me going to the reception next week, though. You can bet on that. Good food and good rest. It will cure anything.

I did see a film at the cinema this weekend and that film was "The Serpent", or if you are French, "Le Serpent". (It really is called that. You can check it out on IMDB. I did.)

Shut your eyes if you are a prude.



First things first. Do not believe English language trailers for French films. They lie. According to the trailer for "Le Serpent" you are led to believe that Vincent's (Yvan Attal) life is perfect. That Vincent has a dream home, a dream family and a dream existence. Then, into this idylic fantasy lifestyle comes a man seeking to destroy it.... But why?

OK. So far, so predictible. Luckily the trailer was mostly utter nonsense and incredibly misleading. Vincent's life is not perfect. Vincent's life is a mess. He is in the middle of a bitter divorce. His soon-to-be-ex wife is trying to take his children to live with her in another country. She looks like she may win. Then, after a sinister turn of events, a man appears offering help and then... and so on and so forth.

I suppose that "Le Serpent" is a serviceable enough, if unoriginal, thriller, but I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that, despite some refreshing Gallic explicitness (Olga Kurylenko is extremely hot), it's true home would have been as one of those two part ITV thrillers they show on a Monday/Tuesday night, starring the likes of Neil Pearson, Robson Green and Jemma Redgrave. Not that there is a lot of obvious Englishness remaining in "Le Serpent", despite the fact that it was originally based on a novel "Plender" by "Get Carter" writer Ted Lewis, and was originally set in a English Northern town in the late 1960's. It's not a bad story. I would like to read that novel to see how faithful "Le Serpent" was to the plot.

"Le Serpent" is not bad for an afternoon diversion, but has nothing that will make it stand apart from a million other thrillers.

Labels: Illness, Movies

There is a note stuck to the window of my Doctors' surgery that reads

"If possible please avoid visiting the surgery on Monday's and Friday's, as these are our busiest times".

They should rewrite it to read

"Don't be a coming to the surgery on a Monday or a Friday, because you ain't gonna see no fucking Doctor, bitch!"

And I didn't.

I was outside the surgery before it opened. There was quite a queue in front of me. The surgery opened. We started the trudge to the counter. After 20 minutes I got to the front of the queue. The receptionist eyed me suspiciously.

Me: "I was told yesterday that if I got here early I might be able to see a Doctor."

Her: "Sorry, Jim. We're fully booked. You could try again on Monday. Or you could ring NHS Direct."

Me: "I've already done that. They said to see a Doctor."

To her obvious disinterest I went through a few symptoms. I said that I did feel better, but still wanted to see a Doctor. Better safe than sorry and all that.

Then she said brightly, "If you think it's an emergency, you could always ring 999." (In the UK this is the number for emergency services.)

Me: "OK. Thanks for your help. If I'm still alive, I might be back on Monday."

I won't be. (Back, that is. I don't imagine that I will be dead, touch wood.) I will sort myself out with rest and healthy food. Luckily, since I had a very deep sleep this afternoon, I feel much better.

Lorraine did call to see how I got on at the Doctor's. She was less than pleased that I let myself be fobbed off. She mentioned the heart attack that killed my Dad and that she would kill me herself if I went the same way. (Eh?)

Did I let myself get fobbed off? Maybe. The way I look at it is that there are a lot of people worse off than me. On this occasion I had no justification for making a fuss, especially as the worst of whatever was wrong with me seems to have passed.

... OK, maybe I was a pussy. Lorraine is the warrior in this house. I am the intellectual. (Stop laughing at the back.)

Labels: Illness

Something more interesting than my constant physical deterioration. Thank you Mr. Planet.

The Truth Quiz. 70 Questions (well, not really, because some are missing, but I'll make up questions to fill in the gaps), 70 answers. All true.

1. Name. Age. Gender? John. 44. Male.
2. What describes your relationship situation? Tense and annoying and terrible, but sometimes great, because I really do love her.
3. Where were you three hours ago? In a car being driven home.
4. What was the last movie you saw? "In Her Shoes" on the TV. I thought it was really good.
5. Do you live with your parents? No.
6. If No, would they want you to live with them? No.
7. Who was your last conversation with and what was it about? Lorraine. Had I rang NHS Direct?
8. What happened last time you were drunk? I got verbose and I slagged off lots of people at work (to Lorraine's ex-boss, attaboy!)
9. Ever been out without underwear on? No.
10. Colour of your shirt? Green. I could make a crack here about it hiding the puke, but the puke is slow coming.
11. Colour of your eyes? Green.
12. Ever been to the beach at night? I'm sure I must have.
13. Good advice if you ever go camping? Watch out for the stinging nettles.
14. Are you a bad influence? My Brother thinks so and so does Lorraine.
15. What was the last argument you had about? With Lorraine about my health.
16. Did you win the argument? No.
17. Einstein or Hawking? Einstein.
18. Rather have your name or your siblings name? Real name or Blog name? I like both.
19. Have a crush on anyone? Yes.
20. Do they like you back? No.
21. Favorite colours? No idea.
22. Ever held a baby? Yes.
23. Last song you heard? "Good Times" by Eric Burdon and the Animals.
24. Wear glasses? Yes, for reading.
25. Last thing someone bought you? Chinese takeaway.
26. Who is your best friend? Lorraine.
27. Does your best friend have a myspace? No.
28. Whose page did you visit last? Medusa's.
29. Speak to any of your ex's? What ex's?
30. Where is your phone? On my table.
31. Next gig you're going to? Roger Hodgson.
32. And the one after that? Ian Brown.
33. Do you have one or more Britney Spears CDs? No.
34. Can Britney recover? Sure she can.
35. Best gig you've ever been to? The Bootleg Beatles at the Birmingham NIA, a couple of years ago.
36. Emo or Scene? I have no idea what you are talking about. Emo. Didn't he used to work with Rod Hull?
37. Favourite Arabic curse? "May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits".
38. iPod or Zune? Neither. Creative Zen for me, thanks.
39. Do you watch "Family Guy" regularly? No.
40. Seen "The Simpsons" Movie? No.
41. Do you read trashy romance novels often? No.
42. Favourite writer? Harlan Ellison.
43. Do you sing in the car? Probably not.
44. Do you ever sing in the shower? Yes.
45. What's in your CD player right now? The Best Of Bananarama.
46. Last person to tell you they loved you? Probably my Niece.
47. Do you think they meant it? Yes.
48. Singer who died too young and would have changed the course of popular music if they had lived? Buddy Holly.
49. The next Doctor in "Doctor Who"? I have kind of warmed to the idea of it being James Nesbitt. Bet it doesn't happen, though.
50. Coffee or tea? Tea.
51. Sausages or bacon? Sausages, specifically Porkinsons, the greatest sausages in the world.
52. Tidy or untidy? Untidy.
53. Which old television series would make a killer movie? "The Man From U.N.C.L.E", which should star George Clooney as Napoleon Solo and Brad Pitt as Ilya Kuriyakin.
54. Last person spoke to on the phone? Lorraine.
55. Do you like to dance? Yes.
56. Have you ever written a song? I write many songs as I drop off to sleep. All of them are hits.
57. How much is too much? Too much is too much.
58. Will you drink a toast to Margaret Thatcher on the day that she dies? Sure will. I have nice bottle of Barolo, circa 1997 which has been put aside to celebrate when the witch finally goes to hell.
59. Ever had a sexual proposal made to you by a member of the same sex? Yes. I said that I was flattered, but that I was straight as straight can be and not remotely interested.
60. Ever been proposed to or proposed to someone? No.
61. Want to go to Uni/College? I would rather stick needles up my arse.
62. Favourite subject at school? English. Shame that I am so bad at it.
63. Favourite tipple? Don't really have one, but I'm never going to touch Groschl again.
64. Last Pub you went to? The Figure Of Eight.
65. Ever stayed up all night? Yes.
66. "Harry Potter", "Lord of the Rings" or "Star Wars"? None of them.
67. Who is the next person you will kiss? Probably Lorraine.
68. A recent memory? My Mom was very happy on Tuesday night when I rang her up.
69. What's your favourite Disney movie? I am sure I wouldn't know such a thing.
70. Baths or Showers? Showers.

I am feeling a little dizzy. Time to rest.

Labels: Mememe

Hello illness, my old friend...

I didn't go to work yesterday. When I woke up and tried to get out of bed, the room started spinning around me. (Not literally. We do not get that many cyclones in Birmingham.) When I eventually did manage to get up, I went to the toilet, went downstairs and had some breakfast. I then checked out the palpitations in my chest, the fact that I was very hot and sweaty and felt like I was going to be sick, and the fact that everything was very bright and hurt my eyes. Then I went back to bed.

Things did get better during the day. A little bit better.

I went to work today and lasted until lunchtime. Lorraine sent me home on the proviso that, as I couldn't get a Doctor's appointment, I ring NHS Direct for advice and that I would be honest with them. (I hate talking to real life flesh and blood people about being ill. I know. I do it all the time, here, but you lot don't count.)

I did ring NHS Direct. I was honest. The palpitations have stopped, but I have a permanent sickly feeling in my chest. My head is cloudy, but the room is no longer spinning around me. I have no appetite. I am going to the toilet a lot. I have tried to be sick twice, but nothing is coming up, probably because I have eaten very little since last night.

The very nice nurse (I imagined her as Kate Winslet in a nurses outfit) on the phone assured me that I am not going to die, although she suggested that I see a Doctor as soon as I can. I will be going tomorrow morning, first thing.

What is this nonsense? It seems that lately I am always ill. What is causing this? I need to know and I need to make it stop. Stomach bug? Viral infection? Flu? Food poisoning? Mid-life crisis? Concern that David Tennant might be leaving "Doctor Who"? Your guess is as good as mine.

I am just bored with it. That is all.

Oh, well. To look on the bright side. I was such a martyr at work this morning, absolutely nobody is expecting me to be in tomorrow. It hasn't stopped me from feeling guilty about it, though. I am not a skiver and I do not like take the piss with time off.

Labels: Illness

I am busy.

Swiss Toni is doing another Shuffleathon. Of course this means that I am working long hours on the track listing for "The Greatest Compilation Album In The World, Volume 3".

(Eh? Volume 3? Assuming that the entry into last years Shuffleathon was Volume 1, surely it should be Volume 2? Well, yes. Volume 2 was sent to a friend in the States (Hi there Katy!), along with Volume 1, when the lady suggested a Cross Cultural Music Swap. Maybe Volume 2 will surface again one day. I don't know.)

Other than the obvious (12 tracks only) my only rule re. the Shuffleathon is that I do not repeat artistes or tracks.

It is frustrating, maddening and insanity. I have stopped eating. I have stopped sleeping. I have aged 20 years. Young children shun me in the street. Dogs sniff me suspiciously.

I am down to about a 1000 tracks. Only 988 to discard.

Damn you Swiss Toni!

Need it be said, it is great fun. If you fancy joining in, let the mighty Swiss know. The more merrier. There were 32 of us last year.

Labels: Music

"Atonement".



My brain tends to turn to mush in the presence of greatness. This makes it difficult when I want to write about something that I thought was truly great. It is so much easier to write about something that is rubbish.

Oh, well. Here goes.

I thought that "Atonement" was terrific. It is a really great movie. Obviously it is early days yet, and there are a lot of contenders still to appear, but "Atonement" might just be the winner-in-waiting of the Best Film Oscar in 2008. Put your money on it now.

"Atonement" is pure poetry on film. From the hazy, dreamy, hopeful days of 1935, a destructive act of spite, the horrors of Dunkirk (with one of the most fantastic long takes I have seen in a cinema for a very long) and it's aftermath, and a devastating "happy" ending, it is a magnificent and moving film, beautifully directed by Joe Wright.

I have never really rated Keira Knightley or understood her popularity. Except for her role in "Pride & Prejudice" (for which she was perfectly cast) I have tended to refer to her as Girl-Who-Would-Be-Winslet, as I have always thought that she has not played a single role that Kate Winslet could not have done better. Maybe I won't say that anymore. "Atonement" is easily the best thing Keira Knightley has done onscreen.

Keira Knightley has had a lot of the press over here, but it would be wrong to not mention the pitch perfect performances from James McAvoy and Romola Garai. They share as much screen time as La Knightley and are as impressive.

Wonderful film.

Gushing over.

Labels: Movies

Sometimes I do things that I know will hurt me. But still I go ahead and do them.

No, it's nothing as crass as cutting my arms or any other such act of self body mutilation, so that I can feel something. I have no problem with feeling. If anything I feel too much. (Bit of a Sylvia Plath moment there, eh, John? Or maybe I should call you Morrissey, circa 1985.). It is all to do with what I put into myself. Too much food. Too much drink.

Ah... Drink.

On Friday evening, during a very pleasant visit to Lorraine's ex boss Bobby Blue and his lovely missus Lana-with-the-turquoise-eyes to coo over their new baby, I was asked by Bobby if I would like a drink. Lana piped up with the choices. Coca-cola, water, orange juice, tea, coffee, wine or a beer.

Sir... That would be a beer then.

I was handed a Groschl. I do not get on well with Groschl. I'm not sure what the alcohol content is, but every time I have a Groschl I suffer from a bad head the next day. A really bad head. I have avoided Groschl since I discovered that little fact.

Groschl was the only beer on offer.

Now, honestly, I wasn't really thinking about alcohol. I wouldn't have minded having a cup of tea. I like tea. But it seems that whenever alcohol is put in front of me in a social situation, I have to have it. I think, I think that if I don't have any, I am missing out.

I did have a Groschl. I had more than one. I was a happy camper. I was on form. Lorraine and I had a great time, although she didn't drink any alcohol at all.

We looked at the baby. The baby looked back at us, but otherwise he didn't do a lot else. We swapped gossip. Bobby was funny. Lana was beautiful, if a bit podgy (says He of the not-quite-Brad-Pitt-like-figure), but that's what a baby does to you and, anyway, I have never been one to think that a lady carrying a few extra pounds is mutually exclusive to her being beautiful. Bobby, who didn't touch a drop of alcohol, was good enough to drop us home. It was a good night and it did Lorraine the world of good.

(Lorraine has said to me recently that she feels isolated. Some of it is my fault and I know it. You see, I really couldn't give a toss about keeping in touch with people, or spending time with people (other than via this weird Internet thing) but Lorraine does. When she lived in Bristol and Haywards Heath, she had a wide circle of friends. All gone now. I do not organise social events. Never have done. Maybe long ago, when I was a little boy, I tried to organise something and nobody turned up. Maybe I was scarred for life by the experience. I don't know.

I do not keep in touch with people from work. I have no idea what any of my schoolmates are doing. I was on Friends Reunited for a while, but deleted all of entries about myself when I started getting emails from people I hadn't seen in years. Why were these people bothering me? Maybe they should fuck off and leave me alone.

I do accept invitations, sometimes, but I always fret about accepting them. Often Lorraine has to talk me into going somewhere. I am going to a do in a couple of weeks, which I am sure is going to be great, but I had to be talked into going by Lorraine. I nearly made excuses.

Maybe I am just a miserable bastard. Or a recluse. I don't know. Are there any psychiatrists out there who would like to analyse me? Ah... Go fuck yourselves. I'm not going to let you.

I have told Lorraine that she should keep in touch with people. That she should bring people around the house, if she wants, but quite rightly she knows that I would be pleasant and accommodating until the moment I went to hide in my room or the back room. When we go to Nottingham, we are going early so that she can spend some time with her millionaire buddy Dolores Rat, vile creature that she is. I will hold my tongue and I will be nice, for at least a couple of hours.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was ill the next day (yesterday). Major hangover. Nearly all day. Wrecked any plans that I might have had to see two films this weekend. If I knew the Latin for the phrase "I told you so", I would write it just ... about ... here. But I don't, so I won't.

It has been a better day today. I went to see "Atonement", which I thought was terrific, but I will write about that tomorrow as I need to take the roast out of the oven. It's lamb. I can smell it.

Yum.

Labels: Drinking, Lorraine, Socialising, Thoughts

Quick post.

Not well.

I said it was quick.

Back tomorrow.

Labels: Illness

"The 39 Steps". The Criterion Theatre. Evening performance. 25th August 2007.



It's funny how these things work out.

About a month ago, on one lazy Saturday afternoon, I found myself watching Hitchcock's 1935 movie version of "The 39 Steps". I cannot be bothered to look up the post at this exact moment, but I think I remember writing that I thought that "The 39 Steps" was a little bit old and a little bit creaky, but that the script still sparkled and probably would still work as a modern film with modern production values.

Did I mention at the time that I thought "The 39 Steps" was also prime material for a parody of an old fashioned British thriller, featuring a frowning hero well versed in the art of the stiff upper lip? I don't think that I did, but I thought it at the time. (I have resisted the temptation to adjust the previous post. Revisionism of history is so easy when blogging, isn't it?)

For a while now the Arts pullout in Saturday's edition of "The Independent" has had the stage version of "The 39 Steps" as one of the best 5 West End shows in London, and rightly so. "The 39 Steps" is a riotous, energetic and glorious piss take of Hitchcock's movie.

"The 39 Steps" features 4 actors playing 139 roles. A nearly empty stage. Clever props (packing cases, chairs, a window frame, a door frame, a toy train) and lighting. With those ingredients, plus great performances, "The 39 Steps" manages to duplicate the entire original movie.

I thought "The 39 Steps" was wonderful. Absolutely brilliant and a great tribute to the original film. Really funny and well worthy of the Olivier award it picked up for best comedy last year.

********

No more reviews until the weekend.

You're relieved....? I'm knackered. It's hard work writing, when you actually have nothing to write and are crap at it anyway.

Oh, by the way. I forgot to mention it. The Corporation has decided to finally scrap the product that I work on.

Worry? Me? No sweat. Apparently I still have a job. I don't know how that happened, but I suspect that the photos I have of the new M.D. with a mountain goat might have something to do with my delayed departure.

Lorraine is dragging me along with her tomorrow to see her ex-Boss' new baby. (Ex-Boss being Bobby Blue who is married to the lovely Lana with the torquoise eyes. I think I may have mentioned Lana before.) I may be here to post, or I may not. Either way, I will be back on Saturday.

Have a good weekend, all.

Labels: Plays, The Corporation, Work

I'm nearly done with the reviews. Time for the play reviews. I will be brief.

(Soon we can get back onto my favourite subject. Me. Pretentious? Moi? Hah!)

"The Last Confession". The Haymarket Theatre. Matinee performance. 25th August 2007.



On August 26th 1978 Pope Paul VI died. He was succeeded by Albino Luciani, who named himself John-Paul I in tribute to his predecessors John XXXIII and Paul VI. To the shock of the Catholic world, John-Paul I reigned as Pope for only 33 days, dying suddenly of a heart attack on September 28th 1978.

Or is that really how he died?

"The Last Confession" is set 4 years later and purports to be the confession of Cardinal Giovanni Benelli (played by David Suchet), a one time a potential Pope himself and a great supporter of John-Paul I, to a mysterious and unnamed confessor (played by Michael Jayston). Benelli tells of power struggles within the Vatican to decide the future of the Catholic church. Of a man determined to modernise the Catholic church from the top down, and as such, a dangerous threat to the Vatican hierarchy. Of possible conspiracies and lies and deceit. Of corruption.

Heavy going. Yes? No. Not a bit of it.

Going to see "The Last Confession" was hardly my idea (I had my eye on the musical "Cabaret" for the afternoon matinee), but Lorraine insisted that she wanted to see it, so we did. I am glad to say that once I got into it, I was thoroughly gripped. "The Last Confession" is a sharp political thriller and icily funny. Actually really funny, and also moving, when you consider what might have been.

I know nothing much of David Suchet, other than the "Poirot" TV series (shameful, I know), but he dominated the stage. A really great performance. I wouldn't be surprised if awards come his way once the stage awards season starts. I was also very happy to finally see the actor Michael Jayston on stage, who is an actor I have admired for a very long time. I didn't even know he was in the play until I read the programme.

I think "The Last Confession" is only on for another couple of weeks. I urge you to go and see it. You will not be disappointed.

Labels: Plays

"Seraphim Falls".



I went into this film expecting nothing. Basically that was because I knew nothing about it. It was suggested by a friend that I might like to see "Seraphim Falls" before it vanished from the British cinemas, as it had died on it's arse upon release in the states. I'm glad that I did because, for most of the time, "Seraphim Falls" is a rather interesting, exciting, dirty and realistic western.

Good things.

A particularly cold and icy performance by the underrated Liam Neeson as the mysterious, relentless and unstoppable Colonel Carver. A great, Bond shredding performance by Pierce Brosnan as the even-more-mysterious Gideon. (Perhaps, in retrospect, not that Bond shredding. Gideon is naturally resourceful, a genius born killer and survivor, able to withstand great hardship and pain. Does that sound like anybody Brosnan has played before?) The film also looks absolutely beautiful. Mountain and the desert locations have never looked so good.

Bad things.

Call me mad, but when we finally got to the flashback that explained the reason behind Carver's pursuit of Gideon, it was faintly disappointing. The reason, life changing though it was, just seemed a bit trite, predictable and ordinary, compared to the existential battle of wills that preceded it. I don't suppose that I really needed or cared to know the reasons behind Carver's pursuit of Gideon. The pursuit was the thing.

Also, "Seraphim Falls" goes a bit bonkers towards the end, with near parody (but I suppose fun) turns by Wes Studi and Angelica Houston. Now, I like a bit of mysticism in my westerns, but it wasn't needed here and it was kind of out of place.

So, "Seraphim Falls" is better than not bad. Most of the time.

Labels: Movies

Jane Tomlinson. R.I.P.



A true hero.

Labels: Death

"Hallam Foe".



By my word, this was a great movie. I know this for a fact. I was in the cinema on Friday morning absolutely dying with a bad stomach, but risking public embarrassment I refused to leave the screening until the movie had completely finished. Well, that is, except for the end credits. Hey! I can look them up, if I want to.

So, yes. A great movie. Probably David Mackenzie's best movie since 2002's weird and wonderful, not to mention kind of shocking, "The Last Great Wilderness".

Jamie Bell (never better, not even in "Billy Elliott") plays Hallam Foe. Living in the Scottish Borders, Hallam is a rebel. Dressing up in his dead Mother's clothes (and animal skins), spying on people having sex, painting his face like a Red Indian and antagonising his (young and attractive) Step Mother. After a disturbing incident with his Step Mother, Hallam runs away to the city. There he becomes obsessed with a young woman who looks exactly like his dead Mother. He conspires to meet her and then...

Ah, well, why spoil it. See it for yourself.

Great movie on all sorts of levels. Fine performances by Jamie Bell, who has turned into a really interesting adult actor, and a very sexy Sophia Myles. Good supporting cast (Claire Forlani, Ciarán Hinds, Ewen Bremner and Maurice Roëves). Funny, creepy, sexy and surprising.

I would see "Hallam Foe" again, hopefully next time without the stomach ache.

Labels: Movies

A while ago, after watching "Goldfinger" as part of the Summer Of British Films festival, my friend Graham asked me if I wanted to see "The Wicker Man".

The blood drained out of my face. I felt sick and dizzy. I started to shake. I stuttered... "No... The Bees... The Bees..."

I broke away from him. I ran into the road. A truck bore down on me...

Graham grabbed my arm and pulled me to safety.

"No, you silly sod", he said. "Not that piece of shit Nicolas Cage was in. The proper version."

Phew! That was OK then.

And so it was that on Tuesday night Graham and I went to see "The Wicker Man" (the proper version.)



Masterpiece is not a word that I throw around a lot with regard to films. (I don't see how any film can be considered a masterpiece until several years have gone by.) I will make an exception for "The Wicker Man", because it is a little, British masterpiece. Edited and unappreciated on it's original release, but discovered and turned into a cult by a generation of late night television viewers, I think that it is one of the best British films, never mind horror films, of all time.

It must be said, except for the final traumatic scenes of the great Edward Woodward screaming for help from a God that cannot help him, "The Wicker Man" is hardly a horror film at all. It is incredibly funny (watching it with an audience really brings that home), very thoughtful, sensual and strange. Rough around the edges it certainly is, but it contains should-have-been award worthy performances by Edward Woodward (from arrogance to disquiet to true panic and horror - the best thing he has ever done) and a cheerfully, sinister Christopher Lee (who says that it is the best thing he has ever done - he might well be right.)

It's a masterpiece. Trust me. 'Tis true.

Labels: Movies

Within the list of things I said I would eventually write up, I completely forgot to mention the French film "Lady Chatterley", that I saw in the week. So, that is where I shall start.



Do not go to see this movie if you are in the mood for a heaving piece of pornography. It is an easy mistake to make, as the "Lady Chatterley's Lover" story (or in this case the "John Thomas And Lady Jane" story, which was D. H. Lawrence's second attempt at telling the tale), lends itself rather well to cinematic smut. (A young woman, unsatisfied by her crippled, rich husband, begins a sexual relationship with the rough, uncivilized gamekeeper. Ooooh... Great stuff. Pass me my Kleenex.)

"Lady Chatterley" is not that film. Despite all of the nudity and the brief close up, at one point, of an erect male organ, what "Lady Chatterley" really is, is a beautiful, erotic and tender love story with fine photography and great internalised acting. I think that Marina Hands and Jean-Louis Coullo'ch give truly wonderful performances as the lovers.

For me there was one slightly jarring note in that the film is set in England, but being a French film, of course everybody is speaking in French. But is that the little Englander in me talking? If the situation were reversed and I were talking about British actors playing French characters in a French setting but speaking English, would I even give it a second thought? No. Of course I wouldn't. Not at all.

It is a long film (nearly 3 hours, although there is a television version that runs - eeek! - nearly 4 hours), and not exactly plot driven, but don't let that put you off. If you fancy an interesting mood piece, that looks absolutely gorgeous, give it a go. I think that it is one of the best films of the year.

Labels: Movies

Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday dear Johnny (for yesterday)
Happy Birthday to me (for yesterday).

That's the fun bit out of the way, because my Birthday didn't quite go to plan. In fact it pretty well turned to shit from the moment I rose from my bed.

I awoke with a bit of a dicky stomach. I blamed it on the dodgy Chinese takeaway from the night before. (Yes, as suspected, Lorraine cried off from going out for a meal on Thursday evening due to some unspecified illness. Hell, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Sometimes it happens.) After a while on the toilet, and a good scrub in all crevices in the shower (too much information?), I decided to go and see a film ("Hallam Foe"). There would be plenty of time before Lorraine arrived home and we had to leave to see "Cats" at the Birmingham Hippodrome.

I felt unwell on the bus, but it was manageable. I bought my ticket and went to the toilet again. I was there for awhile. I went in just as the movie was starting. (Unusual for me. I like to get into the cinema, shut my eyes in the adverts and then open them to watch the trailers.) My stomach hurt and it seemed particularly distended. I had a strange feeling in my throat. I prayed for the film to end and it was not because it was a bad film. (Like all of David Mackenzie's films it was interesting). The film ended. Before the credits started to roll I ran for the toilets. I vomited and also produced a quite beautiful waterfall of a shit. Damned lucky they were not simultaneous events. (Again, if there is too much information here, I apologise.)

Somehow... I got home. I rang Lorraine.

"I might not be going to see 'Cats'. I don't feel very well."

I went to bed. This was at 2pm. Things got vague after that. I was sweating like a pig. There were toilet visits. I had sex dreams about a girl that I talk to on the bus, sometimes. Shapes on the curtains in the front bedroom were moving and I could a tableau of three astronauts praying to a Cat God. The head of one of the astronauts was surrounded by a veil of psychic power which, apparently, is what happens when a Cat God appears. A headache came and went.

Lorraine arrived home. She asked if I had taken any of the anti-diarrhoea tablets that the Doctor had prescribed for me the last time I had 'bottom' problems. I hadn't. I told her that I couldn't swallow anything as it made me sick. Lorraine was furious. I think she said that she couldn't believe she had wasted so much money on tickets for a show that I couldn't be bothered to go to. I told her to "go fuck yourself" if she thought I was putting this on and to "go on your fucking own if you want to!"

Lorraine rang around to see if anybody wanted the tickets. Nobody did. She bought me water during the evening. I ate nothing. I dozed. I woke. It got dark. I slept. I had stomach pains which stopped sometime after 3am. I finally rose from my bed at 8am. Lorraine wasn't in the house. She left a note to say that she had gone to work.

Fun day. Yes?

I have a bit of a headache, but feel fine now. The family are coming out for a meal later. I can do it. I will eat sensibly and in small portions. It is a buffet. It will not be a problem.

I have paid Lorraine back for the tickets, although she told me not to bother. She is upset that she did not get me a birthday card (not sure how she missed that) and, as she bought the tickets as a birthday gift, she has not got me a birthday present either. I told her to get me something later or to get me something extra special for Christmas.

Things have been bad all around. Today I have managed to massively upset my Mom during a phone call I received today and have been told off by both Sister's 1 and 3. I am not going to go into that now.

The way I see it, things have been bad, but today is the start of a new year for me. I will endeavour to make things better. It is all I can do. I'm such a saint, I could just shit. Ah... But I've been doing plenty of that. Ha ha ha!

Thoughts will follow in due course of the plays "The Last Confession" and "The Thirty Nine Steps" and the movies "The Wicker Man", "Seraphim Falls" and "Hallam Foe". Later, but for the moment I need to rest and do nothing.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine