"You spanner!"

Word of 't week: "spanner". During a potentially pants-liberatingly boring vocabulary lesson, a certain student needed clarification of garage tools. His task had been to match words wi the relevant pictures. He pointed to 't picture of the grease monkey lying under a car, asking why he were still working when 't clock int picture showed 9pm. "Is he the spanner?" he added.
"Yes," says I, after I've recovered from laffing fit to burst, "he is Thee spanner if he's still working at 9pm." Hilarity ensued as I attempted to clarify when and where you could legitimately call someone a "spanner".

Almost as amusing was the "splatter" incident. A student appeared late one lesson, asking if he could have a splatter. Fearing what he actually meant, I asked if he needed 't toilet.
"Well maybe to clean it," he said, only adding to 't confusion. Then he lifted his finger so as I could see it were bleeding from a wee paper cut. "Can I please get a splatter? I'll be quick," he added.
Realization dawned.
"Oh, a plaster," I corrected. He looked confused, but then all became clear when I let him get himself a plaster from the First Aid box. Kids, eh.

The younger they are, the more they make me feel nervous and in need of copious amounts of valium. Exhibit A: poor Jack. I would say, "poor wee Jack", but under the circumstances that would seem cruel.
Jack is three. He comes to kindergarten and every time does his best to repeat what I say, use all 't new words, and pick up a pencil int right fingers and not grab it wi a fist. He has a lovely, sparkling personality and bears a striking resemblance to Short Round ~ which is probably why I let im get away wi more than I should.
Anyway, yesterday morning he arrives in a more ebullient mood than usual, but he were being a good boy. We were covering names of zoo animals, and he suggested two good ones (I were suitably impressed ~ how many three year olds do you know who can name zoo animals in a foreign language?). When it came to 't pictures and the big M for "monkey", he suddenly pointed at another classmate and shouted "cheeky monkey!", seeing as I called him it every lesson wi'owt fail. Now that he realized what a monkey was, and the fact that I'd been saying it at the other wee lad for about six weeks already, he burst into fits o giggles, as did I. And every one of the students. We were all overtaken by belly-laffs, but Jack was roaring like a child possessed; he peed himself.
Literally. That is the first time (and hopefully, the last) I've ever seen anyone really, actually pee themselves laffing. Poor wee bugger. He didn't even notice until I guided him out of the room and toward the toilet, while he still laffed his socks off. His mam were waiting outside so it were no trouble, and after a shot delay he were back in the lesson ~ but I made sure we were rather more restrained wi the jokes.

Aai-ya, eh.


Anyway, sat and watched Equilibrium t' other night. Verdict? I can't decide if it's the most pretentious (yet beautifully shot) pile of steaming camel poo I've ever seen, or perfect escapism. I were only watching it fer two things (them being Sir Sean of Bean and Christian Bale, in that order), but I were quite surprised by the whole experience. It's growing on me, and I can't decide if it were just edging into cult status in me head before the ending made me squeal wi satisfaction. Hmm.
The first thing I noticed, that kept me mind on a single (well, parallel to 't most important one, that is) track, were Sean Pertwee. Well, not him, exactly (although dunt he have the most amazing voice-over voice?), but his accent. Distinctly southern England, and proud of it. Hmm, I thought, this could be interesting. And then it were Sean Bean, smoothing his mellifluous Yorkshire mouth round a more RP-sounding delivery. Then to add to this bevy of comfortable sounds, enter Angus MacFadyen (lovely Glasgow lad who, strangely enough, came over a little Welsh fer some reason…). So we're set ~ we've got two Englishmen and a Scotsman.
So enter the Welshman ~ Christian Bale. Now then, what do we have here? Another Englisher, this time Emily Watson. What do these last two have in common? They traded their natural accents fer American ones. Not a bad thing, especially not in a film funded by American dollars, but upon further inspection it raises more questions. In fact, the only member of the cast actually hailing from the US is Taye Diggs ~ everyone else is either from somewhere that is still counted as British or Germany (and one from Quebec, sorry).
So what's all that about? We're already coping very easily wi two Englishmen and a Scot, and then this Welsh boyo turns up speaking all Yank-like. Bizarre.

Still, the film boasted absolutely knock-out moments ~ Mr Bale emptying two handguns into the pitch around him, producing the strobe-effect needed to give it all a comic-book feel in a way that those two Wachowski brothers could only wet themselves dreaming about. Fuck the Matrix, these coppers have something called the Gun Kata, which is basically the science of moving so you hit all your targets while avoiding return fire. Fucking excellent, is what it translates to.
It certainly is an odd little film ~ it unwinds slowly, almost ponderously, but all the time is punctuated with eye-catching confrontations and cliffhangers that make you go "hmm". Wi'owt giving anything away, I believe I had me heart in me mouth as Sean Bean was reading "He Wished For The Cloths of Heaven" by Yeats. Although certain characters were sacrificed and other were rather cleverly seen to be tucking into 't background, it couldn't have been any other way. The ultimate price ~ paid gladly, remember ~ by a certain character served as a catalyst for all that needed to follow. This was perhaps the most worthy of the film sacrifices I've ever seen. Balls to your Armageddon, this were proper Jedi-quality self-sacrifice, bowing to a higher wisdom that no-one else could yet appreciate. The truth certainly did out, and how. It may have been a long time coming, and some of it a little contrived, but the ending were fab (take that, you arrogant fucker! See how it funny it really isn't with my foot up yer arse!).

I will have to watch it again (if just because I need to see it int fresh light), and when I do I'll be reminded of how it pisses all over the Matrix like a twenty-four pound gun over a Baker rifle. I resented the "in the style of the Matrix!" banner written in Chinese on the cover. This was nothing like the Matrix, and aren't we glad.

Anyway, ont the bad news ~ I can't get time off to go the short hop to Japan to see the Arctic Monkeys play the Summersonic concerts. Talk about gutted! I've only ever seen footage of em play, never the real thing, and Japan's only four hours' flight from here. I guess I'll have to wait, fingers crossed, in the vain hope that they'll come here to HK one day. My mate said it were hilarious in its irony ~ and were rewarded wi a look that could have frozen over a good many number of circles of hell ~ a look of which I'm right proud, by the way.

But this has already turned into summat a million years long, so I'll add that Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not ranked number 89 in the top 100 Best Albums Ever Recorded, and leave it there.

Peach and lube.

Tags:
anecdotes ~ teaching English ~ zoo animals ~ Equilibrium ~ Yeats ~ Sean Bean ~ Christian Bale ~ Sean Pertwee ~ Angus Macfayden ~ Taye Diggs ~ Emily Watson ~ Yorkshire ~ Glasgow ~ Wales ~ Matrix ~ Wachowski Brothers ~ Armageddon ~ Baker rifle ~ Japan ~ Summersonic ~ Arctic Monkeys ~ accent