Oh. There are a great 20 minutes near the end. But it takes forever to get there.
I was kept occupied by Waterbed Jason, who wants to see me on Thursday night. "Can't wait to see you. Can U bring drugs?" he asked.
Oh. Can I really only be consumed if you're off your tits? Luckily, I haven't the first clue how to go about buying drugs. I figure it involves chatting to one of those men who stand outside Camden Tube - but I've no idea beyond that.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Cat food advert
There's an astonishing advert where A Desperate Single Woman gives up and gets a cat. "It was love at first sight," she gushes. "Frankie gave me a look of such love."
A cat? Love? Oh dear.
The advert finishes with the cat coming into her room in the morning, and Singleton announcing, "I don't know where I'd be without my furry alarm clock."
A cat? Love? Oh dear.
The advert finishes with the cat coming into her room in the morning, and Singleton announcing, "I don't know where I'd be without my furry alarm clock."
That Laurence Fox
Still can't make up my mind about Lewis's skull-faced side-kick. Is he attractive, or as sinister as the jaws of death?To try and find more, I asked Aunt Google. Wikipedia, bogglingly, tells me "Fox is currently dating British actress Billie Piper". More helpfully, his RADA page features a picture of him taken seconds before he either:
a) Makes beautiful love to Billie Piper
b) Roasts a baby over the open fires of Hell.
The page also includes the following information:
"Special Skills: Tenor singing vice. Water sports."
That's not really helping.
Tagging my life
I've finally upgraded this blog. I've spent a merry couple of hours indexing posts by subjects. After a couple of hours, I've got:
That says it all really. But I wish it didn't.
That says it all really. But I wish it didn't.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
The Lone Gunmen
The short-lived X-Files spin-off turned up in yesterday's post.I'd forgotten that the early 2001 Pilot Episode features them trying to stop a hijacked plane flying into the World Trade Centre. Really.
Thirty minutes in, we go from amiable spy comedy to truly uncomfortable viewing as we get to see a plane thundering towards the World Trade Centre. And then... at the last minute... the crisis is averted, complete with a comedy twang as the plane brushes an aerial on the WTC roof.
It's uncomfortably prescient. The commentary track falls silent at this point, with only occasional murmurs from the crew of "Jeez" and "We couldn't have known". They do explain that they sent a helicopter out to film the World Trade Center specially, and were constantly being harrassed by swarms of harbour police for getting too close.
"Here we were, coming up with this incredibly improbable, convoluted, hi-tech idea. And then, in reality, it turned out to be more lo-tech than you could imagine."
The second episode, mercifully, is about a blind football coach and puking in a golf bag.
Pleasingly bonkers conspiracy theory webpage
The Wrong Boy
So, there I was, putting together a proposal for a teenage audience. Naturally, I did a bit of searching for a suitably photogenic sample user to put in the proposal:
Yes, I thought. He'll do nicely. I glanced briefly at the surrounding text - yup, he's over 16. So it's also fine to think he's a bit pretty without worrying too much.
It was only later I re-read the text.
Ah. Callum McKinlay happens to be Britain's youngest child pornographer, having sent round mobile phone footage he'd taken of a friend having sex with a drunk 14 year old at a party.
Hmmn. Oh dear.
Now, since Callum would no doubt be appalled to discover he's popular with the older gays, perhaps that's a good thing, and some form of poetic justice.
On the other hand, have I just accidentally joined some deviant sect? People who fancy paedophiles? It's unlikely - after all, most of them are as photogenic as Fred & Rose West, but then, there is that friend of mine who stopped conversation with "Ian Huntley? Oh, I would."
Yes, I thought. He'll do nicely. I glanced briefly at the surrounding text - yup, he's over 16. So it's also fine to think he's a bit pretty without worrying too much.
It was only later I re-read the text.
Ah. Callum McKinlay happens to be Britain's youngest child pornographer, having sent round mobile phone footage he'd taken of a friend having sex with a drunk 14 year old at a party.
Hmmn. Oh dear.
Now, since Callum would no doubt be appalled to discover he's popular with the older gays, perhaps that's a good thing, and some form of poetic justice.
On the other hand, have I just accidentally joined some deviant sect? People who fancy paedophiles? It's unlikely - after all, most of them are as photogenic as Fred & Rose West, but then, there is that friend of mine who stopped conversation with "Ian Huntley? Oh, I would."
Ticker suprise
It’s not every day that you get to be the subject of an inaccurate piece of gossip on an internet news site. Even if it is just for Doctor Who fans... Eye of Horus
Bless. But no.
[Oh. PS – Those who know me - Yes, I’m leaving at the end of March. There’ll be a least a party. Woo! ]
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