Saturday 31 March 2007

Hittin’ on the Jock o’ the Day

Just caught up with Graham Norton’s show from Thursday night. I do love Graham Norton, being camper than a Carry On film and twice as amusing. And, to be honest, there’s not a lot to amuse me about UK programming, so it’s nice to see some UK show that makes me socks levitate across t’room by sheer laff-power.

I only watched it cos the Tennster was on – and then Jo Brand showed up. Gawd, but I’d forgotten how funny that woman is. Always had me in stitches when she were on late night Channel 4 stand-up or wherever. Bloody funny girl, and certainly no different ont night. David Tennant were lovely – but I say that as if he could be anything else. Were it just me, the small screen I were watchin’ it on, or did that suit make him look even more rail-thin than usual? Whatever.

Screamed me way through the very juvenile but hilarious TARDIS SFX blag on passers-by, and of course the phone calls and picture messages between the studio and the unknown bloke who answered the “Hello, I’m David and I’m taking you from behind” ad. int paper. Cracking stuff, in a very surreal yet different kinda way. Bless Derek.

And you can see shitloads of screencaps on my alter-ego’s site here.

And then sat through The Weakest Link. Fuck me, but is Anne Robinson just a caricature of what she used to be? Having only seen adds fer it when I actually lived in Blighty, and being careful to avoid it then, I were surprised at how much she seems to buy into and exploit the farcity of it all. I were kinda disappointed that they voted pur wee Dave off, but then again, I were glad the winner gave the money to a charity caring fer children who are carers themselves. They certainly need it, poor buggers.

So what’s left? Waiting fert opportunity to watch the new series of Doctor Who, I spose. Which should be in about… ooh, twelve hours? Have to say, after reading this month’s SFX magazine, I’m a little saddened to see his brown suit go. I loved that brown suit. Or just the cut of it. Or praps just the way it pointed out all the interesting tourist attractions. Like, as Wash once put it, the part where his legs meet his back. Oh yes, very nicely cut.

Also can’t wait fer John Simm as ‘Mr Saxon’, A.K.A. The Master (we hope). Still not confirmed that that’s his actual role, but hey, it’s as good as confirmed when just about every national tabloid has it int entertainment section’s small print.

And so to ‘Life On Mars’, then. Loved episode 6, or the one about the kidnapping and Sam having been given the wrong medication (in his “coma”) and going a bit weird. Loved it. Annie gets better and better, the Gene Genie just keeps delivering (after poor Chris farts: “What have you been eating? Pedigree chum?” will go down int list of favourite Huntisms), and I’m even beginning to forgive Ray Carling. Will wonders never cease?

Praps. But not this week. The Doctor’s back, dontchaknow.

Peach and lube, then. Lots and lots o lube…

P.S., took me about three seconds to come up wi today’s blog post title. I think it’s going to go down as one o me favourites. *insert big grin here*

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Wednesday 28 March 2007

Decisions

Watch some weeny-arsed download that’s up-to-date, or suffer THE WORLD telling you what’s going on an’ how great it is to watch it on a first-run while you wait fert DVDs?

Get me hair cut back to the short-shortness it was and bleach / dye it bright blonde (fert first time in me life), or keep it gay-Luke Skywalker–come–Farah Fawcett-Christmas tree annoying – just because it’s not been this long in fourteen years?

Fuck it. I’m lazy, so it looks like I’ll be waiting fert DVD and leaving it long. No, wait, I’ll not wait fert DVD, cos I have to know what happens that first ‘why is it bigger ont inside?’ gag. No wait, I’ll not leave it long to grow out still, cos it’s getting in me eyes and that means some kind of cut anyway. Might as well just get it all done at the same time. Yeah, I’m that kind of lazy.

And just when you thought there was nowt cool left in all the worlds, yer mate sends you wee salt n’ pepper shakers screaming mastakeseou! An' if yer thought that were cool, how about a good old-fashioned up-a-grayd-oh?


And then it’s alright. Then you know that there is still summat int ‘verse than can make you want to get up int morning. Be it TV shows, or a magazine (April’s ‘SFX’ promises to be a smasher), or simply the fact that you’ve got them Chuck Taylor’s you’ve always wanted since Marty McFly had ‘em, and do actually wear them every day to work. There is still summat. Even if you feel like the grimiest ha’pny in need of a dip in that H2SO4 int science class.

And then you see this film poster, and think to yourself, hmm, maybe I’ll go out this weekend…

After all, who dunt need to perv at watch Sir Sean of Bean, arsey crazed super-villain, wi tiny shiny knives an’ his best evil sneer on..?

A slasher flick wi’ a right scary bastard doin’ the necessary to earn a IIB (UK: 15 / US: R17) certificate..?

All manner of scary fucker-iness that Sir Seenie of the Beanie does so well..?

More to the point, a brainless, smash-em-up, kill-em-all, ram-in-the-Sean Porn jump-fest wi no real motivation other than to get bums on seats and fill a few hours..?

I’m in.

Weird day today. Don’t mind me.

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Sunday 25 March 2007

Signs: 3 / ‘Doctor Makes Me Blub’ Shocker!

A while ago I started on about the meanings of signs as given me by young students of the English language. So here’s the next one – it’s a cracker, as they used to say. Now what, in all possibilities in all worlds, could this mean?


Answers at the end of this post.

So anyway, saw the last part of ‘Doctor bloody Who’ series two last night ~ ‘Doomsday’. Have to say, I blubbed like a girl (ta, 4D for warning me!). But not cos Blondie is gone, no, no, no, no, noooooo…. (and even after I came to like her, int end). Let’s go back, shall we? I loved the whole Daleks v Cybermen thing ~ “Cybermen are better in one respect: they are better at dying!” screams the Dalek leader, and why not? The two opposing armies were fab, and rightly so. As Doctor Who comebacks go, who can argue wi the salt n’ pepper shakers v Trev and Simon? Pure bloody class, I don’t mind saying.

No, I blubbed on Blondie’s words when the Doctor appears one last time, on some flats in Norway, to say goodbye. And she asks him what he’ll do wiowt her. I believe he quotes the end of the 2005 Christmas special when he says “back to the TARDIS, same old life”. And she just says, “on your own?”

That were the bit that got me. That fact that, even though it’s been hammered home episode after episode by ol’ Russell T. Davies throughout series two, you never really think it could possibly be. The Doctor, alone, all over again. But int that what happens every time? Every time he ends up by himself. “The curse of the Time Lords”, he calls it. I think he’s right. Sure, everyone’s blubbing and upset cos Blondie’s gone. But straight away she runs into the arms of her mam. And then there’s Mickey, who’s always been int background – but at least he’s there in a real, physical presence kinda way. And of course, the man who int her dad but a parallel universe man who would have been her dad. It’s perfect. She’s got her nuclear family all back again, she just has to make it work. In short, she has friends, she has family around her.

I blubbed cos of the Doctor. Alone again. Always alone. Reminded me of ‘Firefly’, when Inara tells Mal he dunt have to die alone. And what does he come back wi? “Everyone dies alone.” And int he right? After all, the Doctor only has thirteen regenerations, I think. Which means he’s got four left, if we’re counting RE-generations, not actual lives. Kinda. So one day it really will be his last life. I wonder how he’ll go out? I’m sure Russell T. Davies has an idea fer that too, if only Auntie Beeb would let him have a go…

Also saw episodes four and five of ‘Blackpool’ tonight. Now, I know I have certain weaknesses, but come on, the Tennster giving Sarah Parish those eyes and she turns him down? What is she, made of stone? I would have given him one. Well, several. No charge, mate.

So anyway, the meaning of the sign at top o the post, as told me by an eleven year old, were:
Do not ignore your alarm clock.”


Excellent. Soopytwist!

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Friday 23 March 2007

Teaching and watching and thinking, oh my

He stared at the side of me head fer about ten minutes before I asked him.
“Because, teacher,” he said thoughtfully, “you have a white hair.”
Question answered, then.

She watched me explain fer about two minutes before I asked her.
“Nothing, teacher,” she said thoughtfully, “only that your glasses are really cool.”
Not all bad, then.

And then we cracked open the BBC DVD o ‘Blackpool’, and while I were swept away wi a certain DI Peter Carlisle (no surprise to learn he’s played by The Tennster wi his real voice on), me and me mate really enjoyed the whole Bollywood-esque, ‘Moulin Rouge!’ type musical spots. Didn’t grow up on Gene Kelly musicals fer nothing! But is it just me, or is DI Carlisle going fert Brad Pitt Award For Consumption of Edibles In Every Single Bastard Scene (an award formed after ‘Ocean’s Eleven’)?

Anyway, we’ve just got to the end of episode three. Ridley’s son’s just told the dirty DI he killed the young lad. I think he’s lying. Unless he did it to protect that working girl (who rents a hovel from his dad). Hmm… I’m going to have this going round in me head till I get to the next and last three episodes. Then again, it’ll take me mind off the fact that I’m up to the last episodes of ‘Firefly’ and ‘Doctor Who’ (season two) boxed sets, and once they’re watched and the series are really over, what am I going to do?

Well, there’s the HK Film Festival, fer starters. Just seen ‘Don’, the biggest Bollywood film of 2006 apparently, and, o my dog, were it a cracker! A little bum-numbing at three hours, mind, but worth it (we didn't actually check the blurb before going in, so [1] I weren't aware of the plot or in fact what it were all about, Alfie, and [2] I hadn't clocked the running time. Not that it mattered). In turns hilarious, dramatic, moving and thrilling in a ‘what an absolutely fucking fab dance routine!’ kinda way, we only paid HJK$50 for it (approximately GBP3.30, or US$6.30) too, and that’s not bad fer three hours of quality entertainment. But I have to say it ~ why did the bastards have to end it like that? Oh, right. Sequel time…

Peach and lube then, it’s been a good start to the week. Except it's nearly over already. Ah well.


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Tuesday 20 March 2007

‘300’ ~ a review

Right then. Far be it for me to let a few fantastically stylish posters of buff blokes in leather smalls put me off of watching a flick. A film’s a film, and although I knew it’d be a chore to have to sit through essentially 119 minutes of death, glory, gorgeously rough blokes in leather and of course blood, I did it. For the princely sum of HK$50, I might add (GBP3.30, or US$6.30 ~ and on large comfortable seats that don’t flip up, but act like armchairs, thank you very much).

So here we are then. In me best (well, not too bad a one) tradition, I’ll try to sum it up in three words:

1. Impressive
2. Stirring
3. Inaccurate (bear with me, it’s not what you think)

So wiowt giving too much away (even though I’m probably the last bugger to have seen it), first things first:

Impressive

Gerard Butler is impressive. Impressive in his loud, ‘EVERYONE HERE IS GOING TO DIE!’ roar. Impressive in his role as a leader of men, a killer of the opposition. Impressive in the way he manages to make you entertain the notion that you might just let out a tiny, shiny tear if his left eye winces any more. Equally impressive were his outfit. Ancient Greece truly were a place where the girlies wore little, and the men wore less. A place where big manly men really were big manly men, where tough-as-nails girlies really were tough-as-nails girlies, and big pointy sticks came in very handy when people blinged-up more’n even Mr T came calling fert spoils. I’d like to add that his beard should also get a mention fer standing up for its beardy beliefs, all the way through. Never once did it wilt under the stiff, chill-inspiring sound of the roar from the chin it were attached to. It deserves an Oscar. And fuck me, but if Maximus Decimus Meridius were a seething, brooding lump of anger on legs, then King Leonidas is his angrier, musclier older brother. Wi a sharp stick.

Also impressive, in a more obvious sense, were the stunning visual effects. We’ll start wi the easy ones; the pan-n-scans round the fake wilderness or vista, the backdrops, the hordes of soldiers, the lighting to the whole thing and the seamless use of CGI and people. Then we’ll move onto the money-shots: Leonidas gutting Persian soldiers in a mix of normal, slow to clarity, then speed up to get it over with shots. Bloody class. Blood and gore flying at will under, over and round Spartans, Arcadians and Persians alike. Heads leaping in the air, having been liberated from shoulders wi a slowed, pixel-perfect representation. Bloody marvellous. The entire film felt like a surreal kind of waking dream, the lighting and colour of the film just sucking you into this place that absorbs everyone else’s colour and then hides it. Magic.

Stirring

Right then. Yeah, I’m a complete girl and I did actually cry at the end of ‘Gladiator. But that’s where I drew the line. I’m not a serial crier. I’m actually quite bad at it. But a few tweaks of King Leonidas horrible realisations and I’m struggling not to make a noise. Stirred, definitely.
And then the wife, the Queen, the Force-With-Which-To-Be-Reckoned. Don’t think just cos she’s a woman, she’ll go easy on you. Oooh, no. She had one of the most powerful scenes and I was grabbing at the armrests, the inside o me head screaming for her to do it. Pretty stirred, definitely.
‘God-King’ Xerxes, demanding every Greek kneel to him, on the beach where probably a thousand or so of his men have already been decapitated, sliced, diced or otherwise rendered dead. And King Leonidas’ face, immobile, yet telling him to fuck off and die. Oooh, shaken and stirred. Thrilled. Cheering fert Spartans. Loathing the Persians. Oooh yes, I took sides, as I was supposed to.

Interestingly enough, this comes at an odd time to be showing how leaders of men and countries put their lives and families ont line for their ‘people’, willing, nay, expecting to perform the ultimate sacrifice for the Greater Good, and rules and advisors be damned. Is this a hint? As to how ‘real’ men, idealists, should stay either in or out of politics, depending on your viewpoint?

Inaccurate

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can bang on about how the graphic novel were based on the real battle. You can bang on about historical or factual inaccuracies. You can guess what I’m going to say next: so what? It dunt detract from the sheer enjoyment and entertainment to be derived from this film. People say ‘Titanic’ also has several trillian inaccuracies (hated it anyway; so what?). Again with ‘Pearl Harbour’ (hated it; so what?), ‘Enemy at the Gates’, ‘Muppets From Space’ (and I love that flick) … see where I’m going wi this? I do not demand a film to be accurate. If it were, it’d be a stylised documentary. I just want entertainment ~ and that’s what I got, in shedloads, from ‘300’.

I’d give it a spanking. Oh sorry, a spanking 8 out of 10. Fert thrills, chills, excitements, and even a few moments of levity. And of course, who can resist 300 sweaty, leathered men standing poised ready to kill, spitting and snarling, itching to kill the first bugger as moves? Have to say, one o the bits that had me grinning in vicarious, delicious thrill of the impending fight, were the “Spartans, throw down yer weapons!” from the Persians. And of course, the Spartan response? “Come and get em!”

Movie magic, in many senses of the phrase. Loved it. Girlie porn fert masses. At last!

Peach and lube, people.

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Saturday 17 March 2007

Film Season

It’s been very remiss of me not to mention the three big do’s going on very soon in Hong Kong, film-wise.

Going to work today I were confronted wi a rather lovely picture of one Mr Tony Leung Chiu-Wai (梁朝偉) posing fert HK Entertainment Expo ads. Plastered all over’t MTR stations and buses alike, they’re really going to town plugging this one. And so they should. It’s basically a showcase fer all things to do wi HK films, including new-fangled stuff like digital film and suchlike.

Then, of course, we have the HK Film Festival itself, a gathering of films from overseas and HK, all in three weeks of back-to-back presentations and general film-frenzy. Bloody marvellous. This was where I saw the Italian film ‘My Mother’s Smile’ and the Scottish one ‘Sweet Sixteen’, among too many others to name. An excellent time has been had by all, fert past four years I’ve been here.

Last but by no means least are the HK Film Awards. At last! Very pleased to announce that Mr Aaron Kwok’s latest accolade-fest, ‘After This, Our Exile’ has been nominated in no less than ten categories, including Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Actor (Aaron Kwok, of course), Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best New Performer, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing and Best Art Direction. Red curtains and carpets go up and out on April 15th at the Hung Hom Coliseum…

And if one more person tries to be helpful and patiently explains that I should be happy that some bastard re-write of ‘Infernal Affairs’ won at the American Oscars this year, I’ll quite happily kick seven shades of shit out of them.

I. Will. Not. Go. There. Again.

That’s it. Soopytwist...

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Wednesday 14 March 2007

Home again home again jiggety-jig…

I’m back. I’m up and I’m dressed, what more do you want? And so to fighting off jet-lag by a quick round-up of all the shite I’ve neglected while I’ve been bouncing around continents.

Take That does ‘Shine’: yay! It’s bouncy-bouncy tap-tap time! My favourite track ont ‘Beautiful World’ album, an’ all. Got up at 7am this morning, purely cos I couldn’t sleep (jet-lagged, you understand – you think I get up at that time of the night normally?). Turned on T.V. to find Channel V (music station) playing the beginning of the very song. Sat and watched, transfixed.

Was it over-the-top bollocks, shiny white suits and unashamed spectacle in the style of some RKO broadcast? Or just a bit of fun? Impossible to be sure on just one, bemused viewing. Perhaps it’ll be on again at some point. Bloody good laff, though. Chucking wee Mark Owen over a piano? Howard and Jason doing synchronised breakdancing? Had me chuckling into me morning tea, that’s for damned sure. Gave me that little pep I needed to wake up first thing int morning. Bloody marvellous, I think.

Stephen Fretwell – who is he and what does he want? Apparently he’s quite good at folky type stuff and he’s filling up me iPod nicely.

And so to ‘Primeval’. ITV’s answer to ‘Doctor Who’ and ‘Walking With Dinosaurs’? Riiiiiiiight. I watched I think the second episode, and thought it could be quite good. Watched an episode tonight, about some flying thingy that turned out to be completely harmless while some other flock of miniature pterodactyl / bat things went round ripping people to pieces. Hmm. All I can say is, rival to ‘Doctor Who’ it ain’t. For me, at any rate.

The lead blokey runs like a girl, some bizarre attraction between him and Establishment Girl (interrupted by Wifey, who pops in and out of our world willy-nilly) is completely contrived and is faker than a five dollar copy of ‘Casino Royale’. I just don’t get it. I’m sure there are people who hate New Who just as much, and treat it wi as much derision, so I’ll not bang on about it.

And so to ‘Doctor bloody Who’ ~ just got past ‘Love and Monsters’ and have to say, thought it were fab, even if the Doctor and Blondie don’t turn up till last five minutes. Very funny and so very Russell T. Davies, dahling.

And so to other, ‘foreign’ sci-fi shows: ‘Firefly’. Just got stuck into the ‘War Stories’ episode and nearly died laffing. Which, considering it were about Cap’n Mal Sir and poor put-upon Wash being kidnapped and tortured, should come as a surprise. But not where poor Wash has delusions of Mal and his wife (the Amazonian Zoe) sharing more than just troop rations during the war are concerned. Bloody hilarious, their conversations on shagging Zoe to prove a point. I especially liked the ending, parting shot. Bloody hell, Nathan Fillion is a find. Has he had his jaw wired at some point, been taking deadpan lessons from Jack Dee (of ten years ago), or is he just Canadian? Oh, Canadian it is, then. (Wait a minute! That means he can join my fantasy league of Royal Marines Commandos! Woo-hoo!) Fucking excellent sense of comic timing and a wonderfully parched-dry sense of humour on that attractive mountain of man. And if you should find yerself in possession of the boxed DVD set, treat yerself to the commentary. Him and Alan Tudyk (‘Wash’) are a fantastic double-act. Ah, dear, eh? So much pleasure in such a small box should be illegal.

And so to ‘Supernatural’. Yeah, I know you lot have seen all the current series, but we’ve only had the first one (I think) over here in Hong Kong on TVB Pearl. I have to admit, I’ve ceased watching it fer some itch fert weird goings-on left so long unscratched by ‘The X Files’. Naw, I’m watching cos that brother, the shorter one, what’s-his-tit, Dean. He’s nice. Think his name’s Jensen in real life. Bit of a girlie name, is ‘Jenson’. Sounds like either a racing driver or a muppet manipulator wi a Spanish accent. Hmm. But bloody hell, he has a nice car! Lovely sound, too. Apparently it’s a 1967 Chevy Impala. Sounds foreign.


And so to footie – you knew it were coming, right? Namely Man U’s smiting of the European XI fer charity. ‘Ave it!

Er, I think that’s it… Going to pour meself me third whisky and coke (ta muchly, A., fer them two hyowj bottles!) and praps sneak a peak at some Sir Sean of Bean news. Apparently things are moving on ‘True North’ and ‘A Woman of No Importance’. Praps his usual reliable performance in these two new projects will deaden the memory of the waste of space ‘Outlaw’. Well, we can hope…

Soopytwist.

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Sunday 11 March 2007

'Outlaw': a review

This post contains one or two unintentional spoilers, I'm sure...

Right. There's probably not a bugger here who dunt know I'm quite partial to a bit of Sir Sean of Bean (exactly which bit I fear to specify), so it'll come as no surprise to you lot that I went out and saw 'Outlaw' last night. So, here we go, a bit of review, lads n lasses. As wi me growing tradition, I'll attempt to sum up the entire film in three words:

1. Laughable
2. Slow
3. Inevitable

First things first then:

1. Laughable

This covers a wide range of aspects of this film. Laffable that Nick Love managed to fool people into thinking he were making a proper picture. Laffable that he hood-winked people to join in, and laffable that it got as far as't cinema.

Also laffable were the dialogue - honestly, I could have written better than that. I kept wondering when Sean were going to stop, wave his hands politely at cameraman, and then turn and look over the top of it, going "Sorry mate, just can't do it, it's shite". And wee Danny Dyer - you should be ashamed. You had so much crappy dialogue you looked like the worst offender - why didn't you just tell the bloke it were arse-gravy? I mean, what's gone on, boys? You could have called me, I could have stepped in at last minute and given the script a bit of a re-write. Trust me, short notice and a little rushed as it would have been, I feel it would have been a damned-sight better than what you got handed.

Also laffable that this film was, I think, trying to make a point. I'm not sure what it was, though. It could have been 'all vigilantes go south eventually', or 'Britain, as a nation, is fucked', or praps 'never trust quiet security guards'. I'm not sure. But it all got a bit too much round about three-quarters the way in. I were contemplating going to the toilets. In the next village.

2. Slow

O my dog, you want a soul-destroying, brain-numbing hour of people dragging feet and humming n hawing, havering on just about every fucking point in the universe? You want people standing around thinking with deep, meaningful looks on their faces for what feels like a hyowj chunk of yer life? Then see this film. Again, not saying I could do better, but if I had the entire first hour would have been done in ten minutes. Before the opening credits. And then you'd get the pay-off that never came in Nick Love's original: scores of quick shots, depicting the 'outlaws' going after and dealing wi all the scum on their hitlist. You know, a two or even three-minute montage of them despatching all kinds of villains n untouchable nonces triad-style and actually doing summat like what they set out to do. Then the ending could have been re-written to include some kind of closure and proper fucking point.

3. Inevitable

Hmm, many reasons fer this one being here:
It were inevitable as rain on Bank Holiday weekend that, of course, people have to die. I'm not disputing that. What I didn't like were the way it were done. I think what we have here is a failure to imagine a decent ending. Really.

Overall gripes then:

I could have nodded off and woken two seconds from't end and still not missed owt. Pity I didn't, I could have missed the awful dialogue and crappy attempt to tell some kind of confused story.

Camera-work. Yeah, I know it were supposed to be 'ard and gritty. Yeah, I know it were supposed to be cutting-edge and cool, man, you know? But fer fuck's sake, KEEP THE SODDING CAMERA STILL for at least SOME of the 'important' bits of dialogue! The whole use of hand-held, shaky camera-work was lost on me. It irritated and did not add anything at all to the look and feel of the film.

Ah well. There were some good things about it. [thinks frantically] Er.... Oh yeah, right. The actors. They actually did a marvellous job, considering what they had to work wi. And obviously on an anorexic budget. Which just goes to make it all the worse; you shouldn't take advantage of people wanting to help you out making a film, by offering their services at a non-existent price. It's wrong.

And on top o that, we didn't get any Sean Porn at all - not one arse-shot (not even a Gratuitous Butt Shot), and how rare is that in a Sean Bean film? I felt betrayed. We did get Sean shouting n swearing like a Royal Marines Commando at people as deserved it, and he does do a lovely line in angry looks an all, so we did get summat nice to look at. Apart from that, nowt to lift this film out o the bargain bin. Nowt at all. Except perhaps fer using it in a 'how not to make a film' exercise.
So, last words from me mates as went wi me:
"A great idea, done so badly."

I rest me case. Sorry Nick, and all the cast n crew, but when it were transferred to screen, it just didn't come off as you'd hoped. I know I've been extremely negative here, but it's just how I saw it. I'm sure others liked it. Someone must have.

So there's just 'The Hitcher' to look forward to then. And '300'.

Soopytwist.

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Friday 9 March 2007

You can never go home again...

Me chopsticks go in the chopstick holder. Me frying pans hang on the frying pan hooks. Me milk goes int fridge, and me HP sauce goes ont shelf. I know where everything goes, except me.

I thought I were staying in Hong Kong. I thought it weren’t a permanent, rest of me life kinda thing. I thought I’d never turn into one of them people that lives in HK cos they don’t realise time passes, or praps just dunt fancy living back in their home country.

But now I’m not so sure. Having come back to Blighty fert family stuff, and getting the whole “this is how things have changed int last five years” lecture from me dad, I’m beginning to think that praps I’ll not drag me feet when it comes to getting ont plane next Tuesday – I’ll be running, screaming, making sure they don’t leave wiowt me.

I’ve come to pretty much rely on the Devil’s Kitchen fer proper dissection of current government affairs. Oh what am I saying? I just read it cos it tells me what’s going on wiowt all that fucking boring analysis shite, and just puts it all in perspective. With sometimes hilarious results. And there’s another thing – who said politics and working out who’s supposed to be running the country should be all serious and sober? YAWN. I reckon the DK should have their own primetime TV slot (also available in Hong Kong, please) so that I can sit and watch someone reading it me – partly to keep me off Tinternet fer a bit, and partly cos, Tom Leonard style, the truth sounds truer in a Scots accent.

But there’s always that thing in yer head that goes “you will miss England, you will miss England”. And it makes you think of Saturday afternoons in front oft telly watching footie matches, Red Dwarf or Danger Mouse, of Mam’s steak n ale pies, school uniforms and yanking them ties off at 4pm, stuff like that. It makes you think of all the sunny afternoons spent walking home from school, the fun climbing trees, of the excitement of school trips that go all the way to foreign countries like Wales. Fanciful stuff, I know.

But then you sit and remember the other stuff. Walking home int lashing rain in winter, cos yer dad can’t get the car fixed in time, cos the parts place has made up some excuse about not having parts even though they said they had em in stock, and now the car’s stuck int garage till tomorrow. The fight wi two different counties to get a subsidised bus pass fert sixth form bus. The wrangle and emotional pummelling from fighting wi sometimes three different care authorities and / or hospitals and / or health authorities over trying to get some bastard, anywhere, to get a proper look at and correctly diagnose a member of yer family. The fight and subsequent endless running battle wi “local” government offices over benefits, care-giver allowances, pensions, job-seeker’s allowance, subsidised mortgage payments, council tax, disability allowance... In other words, the not so lovely memories of how a country treats the people who need help the most.

And I’m thinking: do I really want to get stuck over here? Do I really want to get meself mired in all the shite that goes wi trying to get into a UK uni as a mature student? Of student loans and struggling to survive on some shitty part-time job just to get a degree at the end of three years, only to find that it dunt help you get a job int UK anyway? Do I really want the hassle and red tape associated wi it all?

I’m really thinking of just changing me UCAS application. I could just keep it on hold, And apply to finish me degree at the Uni of Hong Kong instead. Yeah, it costs shitloads every year, but when you compare it to the price of a UK degree, it’s not so bad - in fact, it’s about the same. And it’s simpler - apply, get in, go to Uni. The fact that visas need to be changed in order for you to go is not a problem (and I’ve know a potential visa problem when I smell one). You see, before, I moaned about how long it took em to actually do visa work over in HK. Then I went back to England and experienced first-hand the concept of “fucking ages in processing”. Now I don’t consider two or even three weeks to stamp a piece of paper a long time. Not when you consider the ONE YEAR it took to confirm and re-apply benefits to me dad.

I’m not bad-mouthing England. I do still like it. Apart from the government, the food, the weather (fert eight months oft year), the transport, the hospitals, the red tape that is part and parcel of every fucking thing you try and do, the shit telly (what HAS happened to UK programming in five years?), the tolerance and intolerance of people and clashing cultures, religions....

Woah woah woah, let’s not get onto religion. I’ll save that fer another day. We really do not want to start on that one right now, this post is already long enough.

No peach, no lube - wait till after tomorrow night, when I've been subjected to approximately two hours of Sean Porn in the form of ‘Outlaw’, then I’ll be in a better mood.

Soopytwist.

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Tuesday 6 March 2007

Last call

“Last call, James!”
“Buy me a pint.”


I’m getting on a plane tonight straight after work, heading on over to Blighty. It’s going to be cold. And damp. And there’s nowt but potatoes to eat.

Bollocks.

Ont bright side, I’ll be back in a week, and there’s DVDs of The Pretender, Remington Steele, Firefly, Gatchaman and of course Doctor Who to watch, not to mention the new series of Life On Mars and Hotel Babylon. And I might get to see Outlaw and a FCUM match. Praps things aren’t too bad then, eh.

Naw. Still not int travelling spirit. I hate having to get on the bloody things fer thirteen hours. Even if I do sleep the entire trip. I just resent having to do it. It’s a drag.

Looks like I need cheering up, then. Cue me LiveJournal picspam! Woo-hoo!

“Shut the door, Alec, there’s a draught.”

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Sunday 4 March 2007

naughty language(s)

Yeah, sorry, haven’t updated this page since last Tuesday or summat close to, but I’ve been a wee bit busy. Had a rush to get flight tickets to Blighty fer next week (rather unexpected), just waiting for me boss to give me shit over leaving em wi no teacher fer a week, but hey, “is this the face of someone who cares?”, as they say.

So what’s new? Er… been watching ‘Firefly’ like a fan-girl and loving every second. Near wet meself over ‘Our Mrs Reynolds’, and loving the whole ‘just shoot him’ attitude employed so often by Cap’n Mal [insert raucous laffing here]. And the one-liners [“And Kaylee, what the hell’s goin’ on in the engine room? Were there monkeys? Some terrifying space monkeys maybe got loose?” / “Do you know what the chain of command is here? It’s the chain I go get and beat you with to show you who’s in command.”]. And the Chinese insults [“流口水的婊子和猴子的笨兒子” ~ “dribbling son of a hooker and a monkey” / “青蛙操的流氓”” ~ “frog-fucking twat”]. Ah dear. Laff? I nearly fell off me sofa.

Also got wind of Ewan McGregor’s new project, summat about the girlie that wrote them Peter Rabbit stories. Sounds like it could be good fer a laff, having a quick squiz at that. Bet, fert first time in history, he dunt get his kit off. Ooh, talking o serial kek-droppers, got to see that BBC thing ‘Recovery’ about the blokey as gets run over and has to learn how to use his brain all over again. Why did the phrase ‘serial kek-dropper’ remind me o that? Cos the blokey as gets run over is David Tenninch Tennant. He were good – well, everyone were good. He made me cry. He’s a bastard fer that. But if you get the chance, watch it. If you’ve ever had a relative with any mental problems at all, watch yerself when you do. It’s unsettling. I might add I would have been watching every time he did get his kit off, but the subject matter and timing just negated the whole idea of perving at his arse. Bollocks, eh. Rather potty-mouthed an’ all, so definitely not one to watch at lunchtime on yer laptop.

Hang on, I knew there were summat important to say… Er… hang on… Oh! Got it! It’s now after 11pm on Sunday, didn’t get up till 2pm though. Why? Cos I worked fucking hard yesterday at, er, work, then went straight on to the Muse gig at the Asia World Arena, over at Chek Lap Kok. Suffice to say, they were ace, and they did me favourite choons an all, so I were pretty made-up wi the whole night. Loud, fab, loud, jumpy-jumpy-rock-rock music, loud, and er… they even did ‘Soldier’s Poem’, which I always thought sounded a lot like ‘Ave Maria’. But that’s just me, I think. We even got a quick “點呀, 香港?”, and even a “多謝!” at the end, so can’t say fairer than that. After that ace performance, I’m looking forward to the Arctic Monkeys at the LCCC, July this year. Can’t fucking wait, mate, seeing as how it’s rumoured Milburn will be supporting them. How fab is that? I’m as happy as a Frenchman who’s just invented self-removing trousers!

I could go on now about how my server wiped me entire website and I’ve spent a few days getting it uploaded again from my own back-ups. I could swear like a sailor and really go to town on the whole thing, but quite frankly, I’ve had three big large hyowj whiskies and really could not be arsed.

Got to go, have to dust off me suitcase and try to fit about 450 CDs / DVDs into it. And stuff like clothes, although they’re really not as important as getting a charger for me iPod Nano. Must have music.

Soopytwist.

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