2010 Memory Dump

This is my annual memory dump to free up more space for film trivia and remembering all the special moves in Dead Rising 2.

Last year I made two new years resolutions. The first was to revisit my nemesis after a ten year absence.

I didn't get on with my dentist when I was growing up. I had countless fillings and a lot of teeth pulled to make way for braces. The bastard even tried to fit head work at one point, something my parent's thankfully decided wasn't worth the years of abuse and difficultly getting past airport security. It was, of course, all my fault. Like most kids i'd only really brush my teeth properly the morning before a check-up, vainly hoping a ten minute brush would somehow restore the enamel i'd steadily destroyed with chomps and ice poles. If i'd had a pressure washer then, I probably would of tried it on my teeth before an appointment. So, despite the empty nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach I booked a checkup and vainly hoped for some masochistic epiphany, like the Bill Murray character in Little Shop of Horrors.

The day came and ... everything was fine. No teeth to pull, no fillings to fill and more importantly, no me channeling my 10 year old self, quivering and trying to make sad eyes at the dentist to convince him that my rotten teeth really will be fine if we just leave it be and I brush extra hard that night. Walking out of the dentist that morning was the most elated i'd felt that year. When I was a kid I always prayed to some higher power that if my upcoming dentist appointment was fine, i'd start brushing properly. I didn't pray this time and everything worked fine, once again proving that if god does exist, he/she is a sadistic jerk.

The second resolution was my public commitment to watch and review every one of the so-called video nasties. Watching 72 films in a year seemed like a reasonable commitment, after all that's only 140 hours worth. To put it in to more understandable terms, that's the same as watching 56 weeks of Hollyoaks every weeknight, which i've shamefully achieved many years previous. What I didn't count on was how long it would take to review each film, after all there's only so many ways one can elegantly discuss another shitty cannibal film. Furthermore, I spent a few months of spring using my spare time to prepare for a new job, something which seemed slightly more important. Nethertheless, I think my writing is improving as a consequence, and my ultimate aim of watching all 72 will have to be a resolution roll-over.

The activity has led to some nice off-the-list discoveries, which I guess was always the intention. The best film I saw this year, Dario Argent's Susperia, was due to watching its listed sequel Inferno and a half-remembered quote from Juno. I aso dragged Jen along to Day of the Undead, a zombie film festival at Leicester's brilliant Phoenix Square cinema. Watching The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue in a packed screening was my favourite cinematic experience of the year (soon followed by an all-time low, paying to watch a Danny Dyer zombie flick).

We discovered the newly built Phoenix Square as it was the venue for BUG, a music video showcase presented by Adam Buxton earlier in the year (here I discovered one of my favourite songs of the year, Ready Able by Grizzly Bear. As usual, I was late to the party as the song was released in 2009). There weren't many other gigs. We saw Midlake at the tiny Musician in Leicester, a band who really deserve to be on a bigger stage, despite their new album being a slight retreat from the mainstream promise of Vanoccupanther. LCD Sound System were hypnotic under the giant disco ball at Birmingham's O2 Academy, regardless of the disappointing new album. Flight of the Conchords were better than expected at the NIA, despite being just two guys with guitars in what Damon Albarn referred to as a 'giant cow shed'. Gig of the year was Gorillaz at the same crappy venue, the huge eclectic revolving (not literally) band proving that Albarn really is a bit of a genius. The only comedy we saw was Dan Antapowlski in less than desirable circumstances, one of an audience of 15 in a 200 seater venue. Somehow I was the only one he didn't talk to. Must be my permanent scowl. The best (and only) theatre production I saw this year was the initial run of Ghost Stories at Shepards Bush Lyric Theatre, a tense fingernails-in-the-legs production that's the closest i'll ever come to seeing a live horror film.

Music has been a bit odd this year, thanks to the brilliance of Spotify and its endless supply of randomness. Stand out albums i've stumbled upon have to be Becoming a Jackal by Villagers (should of won the mercury), Odd Blood by Yeasayer (mainly for the singles), the aforementioned Veckatimest by Grizzly Bear, the eponymous album by The Invisible (little heard, what I'd imagine a good prince album sounds like), Plastic Beach by Gorillaz (as interesting and cohesive as Demon Days), Man Alive by Everything Everything, Forgiveness Rock Record by Broken Social Scene (The first 'side' is amazing), Tones of Town by Field Music and  everything by Laura Marling, Laura Veirs and The National, especially Boxer.

The summer weather was great, and to make the most of it I spent five weeks procrastinating the construction of a white pebbly path in the garden. It looks nice, but I didn't realise i'd have to spend twenty minutes every week cleaning it by hand due to a solitary ant making the brilliant white stone look messy. Pipe dreams of sustainability didn't progress much from the non-stop courgette supply of last year, except we managed to grow 10 strawberries and due to bad planning a 3 month supply of lettuce was ready to eat in one week.

There were two weddings this summer, first my sister Kim married Sam, which I blogged about here. Later in the summer Ben, my three year flatmate at university, married Hayley. Ben's wedding was the closest i'll ever come to inhabiting a Richard Curtis version of England. And I mean that in a good way, i'm not saying there was an overwhelming amount of smug self-indulgent overlong schmaltz. Instead, it was truly picturesque and evoked all that is beautiful about England; be it the church next to the rolling cornish sea, the speechs at Morwenstow's 13th century tearooms or the garden party in Ben's parents' village (above).

Our main holiday this year was to Madrid, which for reasons that weren't Mardrid's fault, was a bit of a nightmare. Never have I been that close to booking a plane home early. I won't forget why, so no need to write it here. Madrid itself is an understated city that really comes to life at night. Unfortunately I think i'm past the days of staying up till the sun rises with tapas and the mint floating around in Mojitos my only sustenance. The Mojitos were brilliant though. We also took some random weekend breaks, one to a beautiful cottage in Dorset and another to Cardiff, mainly because we'd never been to Wales before.

And as the year starts, so it ends - complete travel chaos caused by the white fluffy stuff. In January the snow and my weak bladder was a good excuse for causing a minor car accident. Unfortunately I had no such excuse when I had a minor collision with a Motorbike in November. This year was the first white Christmas in memory, and yet this mythical event was just the sweet icing on an spoilt christmas cake - Jen was ill from Christmas Eve to New Years day, and on Christmas Day my Grandfather passed away. Yet despite this, there was still much to be thankful for. Jen and I are as happy as ever, I got some awesome presents, and on Boxing Day we had some quality time with my Brother, psuedo Brother, Sister, Mum, Dad and Nan. Which after years of tense Christmases, was joy.

2009, Week 14 & 15

I can't work out whether my posting has slowed down due to a) not doing anything interesting to write about or b) me being too lazy to be bothered. I think it's mostly laziness, which ironically is the reason for me not having anything interesting to write about. Not having anything interesting to write about has never stopped me before though I suppose?

Our house is pretty ugly, but I like to think its oddness is part of its charm. Who else can say they have a 2 x 3 meter room attached to their bedroom that is referred to as 'the void' on the blueprints? It's especially ugly from the front, an 80's affront to architectural beauty, with no redeeming features and an afterthought of an extension. It's our house though and I love it. I think I have a lot in common with it; born in 1982, aesthetically odd and probably vastly over valued.

There are two weeks of the year when the house does look marginally attractive, when the tree in our front garden blossoms. To counter that I have to spend two weeks driving around in a Skoda covered in girly pink petals.




This week I finished reading 'Book of the Dead', the complete history of zombie cinema. It's a book I've been wanting to buy for ages and was well worth the wait. For example, did you know there are zombie films named 'Urban Scumbags vs. Countryside Zombies' (German), 'Space Zombie Bingo' (Troma) and 'Nudist Colony of the Dead'. Ironically, the next book on my list to read is the 'Tibetan Book of Living and Dying'. Sounds similar, but it probably doesn't give any analysis on the implicit social commentary of 'Dawn of the Dead'.

I very rarely watch a film that affects me emotionally, and I watch alot of movies. The last film that caught me off guard was United 93. Before I'd watched the film I was very cynical of the whole idea, I couldn't believe that hollywood could tell the story in a tasteful and non-exploitative way. By the end of the film I was mentally and, to a degree, physically destroyed. I don't know why but I can feel when a film's got to me, normally about 10 minutes before the emotional crescendo that has been building through out the film peaks. When the film does reach it's inevitable climax it's like a punch to the stomach. And it makes me well up a bit.

Last week I watched 'Waltz with Bashir' and it completely bowled me over, much like United 93. It's amazing filmmaking and I think pretty groundbreaking for an animation (more so than any Pixar film of late). If you read this, please go watch Waltz with Bashir and United 93. If you're lucky there may be one copy amongst those 200 'Epic Movie' DVDs in your local blockbuster.

2009, Week 12 & 13

I hope I haven't offended The Elders of the Internet by not posting a weekly ramble last week. Some stuff happened that my head is struggling to filter properly. If this was a private diary I would probably write about it, but it's not. I've always said this diary/blog was to act as a memory warm-up in years to come, and i'm pretty sure that I've said enough to bring things back. Needless to say, if God does exist, he/she/it can go fuck himself/herself/itself with a big stick.

We've got a new family on the street and they've moved into our loft. For the last two weeks we've been woken up at 6am by birds scratching on the roof of the bedroom. Banging on the roof seems to stop the scratching for a while. A few minutes later the noise promptly starts up again, just as you get to that sweet spot when your minds starts drifting into dreamy nonsense.

One Sunday we were woken at 6am and I snapped. I stalked around the bedroom in my pants (good look) trying to work out exactly where the avian arsehole was. Once I found the bastard I smaked the roof, hard. There was silence for a few seconds and then all hell broke loose, baby birds screeching and the mum going crazy. Jen's taken to hitting the roof before we go to bed, see how they like being woken up! I really hope for our sanity and our loft's hygene they go soon.

The weekend before last was dominate by weddings. Saturday was my Cousin's wedding in Great Misenden and probably the first time I've seen almost all of the extended family for years. I'm quite anti-social, generally avoiding contact with people I don't talk to much (less anti-social, more lazy-social) but I think I had a brief conversation with everyone, which is an achievement for me. I forget how cool they all are. I think I'll make more of an effort from now on.

Sunday was a wedding fayre at the now dead-cert wedding reception venue. We keep flip-flopping between having a large invite-everyone-we've-ever-met wedding and having an intimate, close family and friends wedding. It's looking likely that we're going for the later. I think it's a mistake when a wedding becomes more about making other people happy, especially when many of those other people aren't (comparatively) that important to your life and relationship. Also, there's more money to spend on the Honeymoon and as we want to get half way round the world for at least 3 weeks we need all the money we can get.

This weekend Martin & Sarah came up and we all went out for some Japanese, Cocktails and Dancing. Well, lack-lustre dancing in a pretty much deserted Echos. Going to a night club at 11pm is a really bad idea. Especially because when you're literally the first people in the place the booze fueled facade doesn't exist. I can understand the toilets looking a state at 3am once it's been assaulted by inebriated students, but it's a bit worrying when there is mud coated up one of the cubical doors when you're the first person in. And where does the mud come from? the place is in the middle of a decidedly concretey town centre. Maybe they ship it in from Manchester to complete the shitty indy club from the early 90's look. Quality establishment.

As usual my head was banging the next day. People always say don't mix your drinks, so what idiot invented cocktails?

2009, Week 10

Birthday Week!!! 4 day weekend!!! Unnecessary exclamation marks!!! Despite the excitement I expertly portrayed in the previous sentence, I had forgotten it was my birthday and continued to forget when it arrived. That's not really a surprise as I spent half of last year thinking I was 27 until Jen pointed out that I was 26. That really made my week.

For our birthday weekend we had a mini-break in London Village. We left late Wednesday evening and crashed at my sister's flat in Peckham, which is unfortunately not in the classy Nelson Mandela House (one can only dream).

On the over-ground in to London Thursday morning we had a Mary Poppins style welcome, as we watched some mad gypsy dancing with an umbrella outside of his caravan. I reckon this is the Mayor's new initiative to welcome tourists to London, paying gypsies to relive famous London scenes. Hell, it was more entertaining then a Routemaster that transformed into a, erm, Routemaster with its top floor blown off. Rewatching and describing that video, I've just realised how unintentionally offensive it is.

We'd hired an apartment for a few days. The first apartment we checked into had no hot water and a broken TV. After a wait for someone to turn up we were moved into a two bedroom apartment which was huge and had two bathrooms. We could both go toilet at the same time! Happy Birthday Us! The apartment was in a great location - This is the view of The Old Bailey we had 20 seconds from the apartment.


That evening we went to see Dirty Dancing - The Classic Story on Stage, my present to Jen (both the tickets and me sitting through it). It was, to say the least, the complete opposite of a sausage-fest. Let's call it a clam-fest. The show itself was technically smart but I think for someone who is not a fan (ie me), overlong and badly scripted. All the XX chromosomes' seemed to have fun though, whooping at the exemplary word-smithery such as 'I carried a watermelon' and 'Nobody puts baby in the corner'. Oh and fake-Swayze looked worrying old to be seducing a teenager. And he had funny hair.

Next day I dragged Jen on a walk around The Cirty, checking out St. Pauls (Huge!), The Globe Theatre and the current Turbine Hall exhibition at the Tate Modern, 'TH 2058' AKA 'Big Scary Spider and some Bunk Beds'. Here's some piccys.





Before lunch (a wise move) we went to The Hunterian Museum, a collection of various animals and body parts, mostly in Jars, collected by John Hunter throughout his life. It was fascinating, but unfortunately somewhere in the Royal College of Surgeons dinner was being served. So whilst we were viewing the insides & outsides of featuses, babys and adults, humans and non, we were getting a lung full of pie and mash. The shear scale of the main 'Crystal Gallery' finished us off and we had to get out for some fresh air and some tapas. On reflection, The Hunterian Museum was a bit like anatomical tapas.

In the evening we went to Adam Buxton's 'Out of Focus Group C' at the BFI Southbank. It is, as Buxton puts it '...basically an excuse for me to show some old and new video morcels I’ve made in between live performances from myself and other more talented actors, comedians and musicians'. And it was hilarious. Special guests were Doc Brown (comedian/rapper), Young Knives (who played 'Terra-forma' and 'Turn Tail', before backing Famous Guy for a rendition of 'I Like to Rock') and Kevin Eldon.

We finished the weekend by Chilling back at sis' and watching the ridiculously entertaining 'Taken', where Liam Neeson beats the shit out of anything on two legs for a few hours. I think he might be the new Seagal.

On our travels we had a new RCS (Rubbish Celebrity Spotting) to add to the list - that bloke off of that program in the flat with Samantha what's-her-name and that guy called Martin. Or, after some research, Ben Chaplin from 'Game On'. This spot is almost as good as Tim Vincent at a petrol station. Almost.

2009, Week 9

It's been one of those weekends that feels like it's over before it's began. That's probably down to lack of sleep, much alcohol and the take-away sweats.

John, Jen and I went to see Watchmen on Friday at Vue, Leicester, a cinema I loathe yet keep going back to. John's twisted mind can make the pre-trailer adverts entertaining, if not a little wrong on all levels. If you ever wanted to make an anti-advert, one which ensured no one bought your product, John is your man. Also, he made quite possibly the funniest ghost train related joke. Unfortunately I think If I committed it to the Internet's It guaranteed me an appointment with Beazlebub for eternity. Or maybe the big G likes paraplegic based comedy. Better not risk it.

Watchmen was long yet entertaining, if not a little tonally unbalanced. I think Snyder had a difficult Job; either make a film that is true to the novel yet a bit of a mess or radically veer away from the source material to make a more cohesive and ultimately accessible film. Either way you're going to piss off the fanboys or the critics. Despite the change to the ending (for the best I think) the film kept as close to the comic as possible for a big budget movie (ha! i said comic, not graphic novel. in your face fanboys!).

As Jen was wedding dress shopping on Saturday I had a loose end. I ended up in a Garden Centre with the 'rents which oddly enough it was my suggestion. The 21 year old me would be severely disappointed by my over enthusiasm to buy rhododendron compost. In fact the 26 year old me is very disappointed.

Saturday night was a pre-birthday pub crawl. Does 3 pubs count as a crawl? OK, pre-birthday pub stroll. I haven't seen Christof or Chris since my brother's wedding and I could quite happily talk rubbish with them into the early hours. Which I did, although according to Jen towards the end it was mostly me talking rubbish at them when everyone wanted to go sleep. Over excited I guess. As usual I put my foot in it, joking with Chris that the good thing about Game Station stores (one of which he manages) is that unlike every Game store I've ever been in it doesn't smell so bad that you gag when you walk in. Unfortunately, I completely forgot his girlfriend who was sitting next to him works in Game. I've done much worse though, some of which I'm too embarrassed to write down. If you want to know ask me about the drunk guy at the Who gig. We can go to hell together.

We had quite a few drinks in the Old Market, Kettering's most alternative alternative pub. Although maybe I need to re-evaluate that, because for at least two hours it was, erm, 'eclectic', at one point pulling out the Hammer & Ice combo of 'Can't Touch This' followed by 'Ice Ice Baby'. The audacity. And there was also a complete pub sing along of Chas & Dave's 'Rabbit', which was beauty in its purist form.

I'm too tired to write anymore, I'm almost 27 don't you know?

2009, Week 8

To misquote the seminal work of the early 21st century's portentous rock poets Sum 41, this week is 'all filler, no killer', in that bugger all happened. This was, I like to think, by choice. As we have big plans for the next few weekends Jen and I decided to laze around the house, watch films, drink wine 1 and eat Jamie Oliver's Tiramisu2.

My new keyboard turned up this week. Stupidly, I didn't consider that it would be the same width as, if not wider than an actual piano. Because of this I've struggled to find it a permanent home. It's great though, and I wish i'd of got one when I started self-teaching last year. It's got USB MIDI, which let me hook it up to Garageband in minutes and take advantage of the great instrument sets such as 'Nature Sounds', 'Comedy Noises' and the must have 'Applause and Laughter'. I am the master of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I own that bitch.

As preparation for our trip to London Village in a few weeks I got a copy of the 'Rough Guide to London'. It's amazing how little you really see in a city without a guide book. I've spent many days aimlessly walking around central London yet upon looking at the guide book I realise that I've missed so many interesting things. For example, did you know that there is a lamp post near The Strand that is powered using methane collected from the sewage system? I thought not my friend, and you thought the Houses of Parliment are impressive? You fool!

Every so often I re-discover an album that I've bought and never really got into the first time round. Oddly enough, these albums tend to go on to become the ones I really love. I think this is because music that is initially difficult to get into or challenges the listener's conceptions ultimately has a greater pay off when you finally 'get it'. In the last few years this has happened with Midlake's 'Van Occupanther' (which I now adore) and Animal Collective's 'Strawberry Jam'. The last few weeks I've really got into the second Hot Chip album 'Made in the Dark', which I've had since release. I was initially disappointed with it, I think mainly because the lead single 'Ready for the Floor' was a bit too mainstream and that stupidly put me off the album. On reflection though, the album really is a funky bitch.

I've come up with a new nick name for Jen and it's a personal fave. I'm pretty sure in every relationship there are weird nicknames used to refer to either partners, which make absolutely no sense to anyone else. What is odd with Jen and I is that the names seem to change every month. For example, here's all the ones we could think of from the last few years: Jen, Jen-Meister, Jenny, Jennifer, Jennifer Jayne, JJ, JBoss, Abraham, JJ Abrahams, Jabraham, Jabraspam, Jables, Balls, Jables Power, Gorper-chov and my new personal favourite, J-Chops.

I'll finish with some wise words imparted from my soon-to-be brother in law.

Wise man say even crouching ginger can't hide because of his carrot topped shame

1 - Man on Wire (great), Strangers (not bad, first half tense but looses its way) and Hunger (brilliant, but really hard work)
2 - Not literally his, I wouldn't mess with the mockney chef. Him and his Toploader pals would beat me to death with drumsticks and then dance on my corpse in the fucking moonlight.

CNPS: 15

2009, Week 7

For a few hours this week, there was a big chance that I had been horribly killed. Well, at least from my from Mum's point of view, as there was a car accident in Loughborough and she happened to hear about it. I'm not complaining, it's nice to know that someone is thinking about you. I do feel sorry for my sister who lives in South London, she must get the 'just checking you're not dead' answering machine message twice a day.

Talking of the afterlife, it turns out that our potential wedding venue, Leicester's Guild Hall, is the most haunted building in Leicester. So haunted in fact that Yvette Fielding and a bunch of morons paranormal researchers have paid it a visit (you can watch the footage on youtube, although you really must have something, anything better to do, don't you?). There's also 'The Best Paranormal Evidence' which was shot at the Guild Hall, which is essentially sped up footage of sun light moving across a floor. These ghostbusters would shit themselves if they ever saw a disco ball in full swing. Oh, and if you really do buy into most haunted, you really have to read this expose of Derek Acorah, it's hilarious.

There's a weird looking monument that we drive past everytime we goto Loughborough, and I really wanted to go check it out this weekend. It's called the 'Temple of Venus' and sits solitary on a hill next to the A512 (picture here). I know it's on the Garendon Park estate which has partly public grounds, but there are no noticable footpaths near the monument. The only useful bit of information I could find was from the knowhere guide:

the venus temple, ... the farmer. whenever u try to cross his field to get to it, he fires his fucking gun! wanker.

Unsurprisingly, I rain-checked the idea and watched The Wire instead. Me being shot dead would only upset my mum and put a real downer on the weekend.

This weekend I really wanted to fix the floorboards in the bathroom. At the moment standing on them feels like being on a ship in stormy weather. It turns out this is because they're badly fitted and dangerously thin. Basically, until I fix them we need to introduce a weight limit on the bathroom. Until normal service resumes, fatties will be redirected to the shed with a bucket. As usual though, I procrastinated upon this all weekend and got absolutely nothing done.

My little sister was annoying me with compliments this week. She'd been listening to my 6th form band demo CD and asking why I don't record songs anymore. Buoyed by her encouragement I restrung my guitar (previous strings were 4 years old) and wrote a song about how I shouldn't write songs anymore. Unintentionally, It was actually a meta-song in that the song itself proved the point of the lyrics. Nevertheless, I ordered a shiny new 88 key 'stage piano' (i.e. keyboard) to try and start learning piano again, something which I started a year ago and quickly abandoned, blaming my previous keyboard and its sticky keys.

Plan next week? Putting some good time into procrastinating about floor boards and pro-actively planning my excuse for giving up on the piano again. After all, you've got to plan if you ever want to get anything done.

CNPS: 15 (stuck)

2009, Week 6

Good news! Somebody is reading this blog. In fact, possibly two people are reading this blog. I've always insisted that this is a personal exercise but now I have 'followers' I think I need to up my game and do more interesting things to write about. For example, the most exciting thing that happened this week was our bin being nicked by some Sulo stealing son of a bitch.

Sam, my future Brother in Law, has started blogging. You can read his Blog here. I hope he keeps it up. I think the more friends you have blogging increases the chances of having interesting intersections between blogs. For example I can blog about how funny I was when I last saw Kim & Sam and Sam can blog about what an insufferable twat I was when he last saw me. Light and shade, Truth and Lies, Sam and Dave.

I've started getting to the age where I understand the concept of nostalgia and given that most of the quizzes on facebook are nostalgia based (do you remember these 90s films? etc.) I think everyone else my age does too. I do think the internet ruins nostalgia though. It's great looking at the case of an old spectrum game, squinting at the tiny screenshots on the back remembering the hours you wasted trying to clear a screen. The problem is, with the internet you can boot up the game or watch a video in seconds and pretty soon you realise that Jet Set Willy really was just fucking annoying and that He-Man was a badly animated stinking pile of incoherent shit. Anyway, enough ranting. This week I stumbled across something that I never thought I'd see again, Chocolate Cigarettes. I was shocked; How is this possible in the politically correct 21st century? Should a post office of all places be selling such things? And 8 for 39p a packet! No doubt most of the 39p is going to Brown's pocket under the guise of funding treatment of chocolate based diseases on the NHS. Luckily, it was my brand (Coronation), so I bought a pack and had me some chocolate inhalation. Here's me doing my best Deniro


It was valentines this weekend. Jen got me a cool Robot t-shirt (see pic) and hotel chocolaté goodies. I've been overdosing on chocolate this week. Round Scott and John's we had some absolutely amazing chocolate from Mary, a Belgium based chocolatier. I never really believed the phrase 'orgasm in your mouth' before (well, wrt. food) and I think these chocolates are the closest I'll ever come to that. They are £79 per box if ordering online though, which is what I think you'd expect to pay for non-coitus chocolatey climax.


Jen and I were watching the funny 'Free Agents', in which they were talking about magpie based superstitions. There seems to be quite a few of these. In Free Agents it was that you had to hop on one leg whenever you see a magpie. Apparently on Jen's first day at work at her previous Job somebody walked into the room and saluted her, blew her a kiss, and then walked back out again. This threw Jen a bit, obviously, but it turned out that she wasnt saluting and blowing a kiss to Jen, but a magpie outside.

I watched 'Night of the Hunter' this week, another suggestion from the good but brief 'Rough Guide to Horror Movies'. Although I think the film went of the rails at the end with its Saccharin Hollywood ending, the cinematography was outstanding and genuinely creepy. I've been quick to write off older (i.e. pre 1970s) films as over acted, but I think that they were more about escapism then the hyper-real movies we are used to now. Night of the hunter was surreal, almost fairy tale like and some of the shots were enfused with the threat of the titular hunter. Check out some screen grabs i've found on the nets...





CNPS: 15

2009, Week 5

Monday morning we woke up to the most snow we've had in 18 years. For the whole week snow kept falling, freezing, and almost causing Jen and I to have a minor car crash. On Monday we both left work early (for safety reasons, obviously) and because the snow was still novel we made a frosty guitar hero, which was soon David to the Goliath that was built by some neighbours over the road. Being cosy inside when it's freezing outside is amazingly relaxing, and thanks to flexi-time I can leave and return home early, get in a sleeping bag and watch The Wire. By Wednesday we were both fed up of the snow wishing it would get back to good old miserable rainy february.


All week The Met Office were advising people not to make non-essential journeys. What the hell is a non-essential journey? Going to work isn't strictly essential, getting out of bed isn't essential, brushing my teeth isn't essential, washing at least a week isn't essential, well, you get my point. Simon at work pointed out that all week had been like that magical time between Christmas and New Years, when the office was only half-full and it didn't feel like you have to work at full capacity (or in other words, it felt that staring out of the window cheering on minor car crashes was a legitimate use of time).

My sister met Prince Harry, Neve Cambell and Matthew Lillard this week. She meets alot of legitimately famous people working in a leading costume hire shop in central london. To be honest I think she goes on about it too much. I saw Tim Vincent at a service station 4 years ago and you don't hear me going on about that! show off.

Kim and Sam got me a Munny for Christmas. My Munny's accessory was a Baseball bat, so I decided that the Munny had to be a Droog. Here he is. Don't fuck with him, he'll break your legs.


Jen's been doing some cooking this weekend and it's been tasty. First up an 'Onion Soup au Gratin' (Soup with cheese on toast on top to you and me), sounds weird, tastes lush. Then a chocolate beetroot cake. Apparently the beetroot makes the whole thing moist. Again, sound weird, tastes lush. Here's a picture of the chocolate cake being dominated by my naked Munny:


We decided to go see a potential wedding venue on Sunday - Leicester's Guild Hall. Despite the fact that the hall is a minute walk from the Shire's shopping centre, we'd never been past it before. More to the point, it's directly opposite Leicester's Cathedral, which we'd also never been to before. The hall is wonderful. Built in the 16th Century it looks almost untouched (apart from a neat visitors centre). Assuming it doesn't cost too much (which it shouldn't, as it's owned by the council), we've pretty much settled on it as our wedding venue. Also, a lovely hotel Jen found weeks ago for the reception is a minutes walk away, how good is that?




On the way back from Leicester it started snowing again so we decided to go up Beacon Hill and take some photos, here's a few:





CNPS : 14

2009, Week 4

It seems that I've got into the habit of starting my weekly diary by moaning about the weather, and there's no change this week. It absolutely freezing. Colder than a cold thing in a freezer. I guess that means it's colder then than frozen peas. What a crap metaphor. Then again it doesn't help that I was walking around Bristol on Saturday night in a t-shirt getting blasted by the 'Siberian' gales. It was like having someone throwing frozen peas at you. Oh i give up...

I've become slightly obssessed with Twitter, having to check up on who I'm following at least every hour. I'm pretty sure it's one of those crazes that everyone will do a few months and then give up, like Tamagotchis, Myspace or being nice to each other. I'm current stalking following Graham Linehan, Stephen Fry (who isn't?), Peter Serafinowicz, Charlie Brooker and Jonathan Ross who are all pretty active.

We went to see Flic and Martin in Bristol this week. Half way down the M42 Jen realised that I hadn't replaced my tax disc and my current one was due to expires that day. Being the pathetic worrier I am I immediately assumed that if I got caught my car would be crushed, they'd put 6 points on my license and repossess my house. I had to pull into the next services, panic a little, breath, and then ring my Dad to convince me that everything was going to be OK, which of course, it was.

As soon as we got to Bristol (late) we were off to the city centre for a mini pub crawl. We start off at Goldbrick House a multi-story cafe/bar/restaurant. Each floor seemed to have a bar and with all the stair cases it was all a bit reminiscent of Relativity by Escher.

OK, that made me look more cultured then I am. What I actually thought it looked like was that bit at the end of Labyrinth when Bowie's chasing Jennifer Jason Leigh with his crystal balls, which I knew to be influenced by some mind-fuck picture. Talking of which, I vividly remember my Doctor having Ascending and Descending by Escher on his office wall. I'm guessing that it was intended to reflect the ongoing carousel of patients that is the medical profession, that how ever hard he was to work, he's really fighting a loosing battle against nature. Basically, he was saying 'everybody dies' in pictorial form, which is a pretty dark statement for a GP's office. Or maybe he just liked fucking with kid's heads with weird optical illusions.

Back to Goldbrick House. I had the first of a few weird toilet experiences in the pub. I went in to a cubical and started having a cheeky cubical wee when I noticed that my stream was not making the normal splashy noise. After checking and adjusting aim, I noticed that the toilet bowl was full of ice. This threw me. Is this normal? Maybe it's a mechanism to stop splash back? I then started questioning whether I was actually in a toilet, thinking that maybe I was actually as close as I'd every be to literally pissing in someone's champaign. Despite convincing myself that it was a real toilet after I finished I sheepishly ran out of the toilet hoping no one saw me.

This has lead to the weirdest Google search I've done in a long time. It turns out that ice cubes in urinals can provide a 'continuous flush' effect; ice cubes in bars tend to have more bacteria than toilet water and there is a myth that if everyone flushes 3 icecubes down their toilet it will cause a snow day. No word on icecubes in toilet bowls though.

Next pub was Llandoger Trow, famous for influencing Robert Lewis Stevenson when writing Treasure Island. We got asked for cash by randoms twice in the pub, the first a homeless 'need money to get to hostel' type and the second a charity collector selling badges. We reckoned that the second guy was also a homeless, guy, just one with a plan. Although the effort of creating a charity (who's patron was Jo Brand, he told us, nice embellishment), ID lanyard and a collection of attractive metal badges probably would of cost more then the quid I gave him. Ha, idiot!

Then came the second weird toilet experience. I walked into the toilet to be confronted by 10 men all cheering on one fella with his trousers round his ankles pissing into a urinal five feet away. As usual I assumed the 'play with phone until weirdos go' position.

Next up was Start the Bus, which seemed like a cool place and had Hoegaarden on tap (whoop!). Disappointingly the trip to the toilet was without event. lame. We had some food in Pizza Express, where
the second or possibly third weird homeless guy of the night tried to take my seat whilst I was in the toilet (OK, you can probably tell by now that I have a bladder the size of a Panda Cola bottle).

Finally we went to the Hatchet Inn an alternative pub orginating in 1606 (The pub that is, not that it started being alternative in 1606*, don't think there were many tudor emos).

After getting back to the flat we played a bit of Guitar Hero world tour with dual guitars. I haven't been so drunk in a long time, probably years. I remember thinking that I couldn't see the screen so I put my glasses on. Because I still had double vision I decided that my glasses were broken (?) and sat about a foot away from the screen and proceeded to fail everysong because I arrogantly kept setting it on expert. What a douche. Awesome night though.

CNPS: 12 (how many people have a number plate with 13 on it?)

* Not actually tudor period, that finished three years earlier. Plantagenet Era didn't sound quite so good.

2009, Week 3

It's been a pretty miserable week, weather wise. Not cold, but all snowy, sleety and, erm, wety. And because of this most of my free time this week was spent watching movies, still getting scared by Dead Space and catching up on series 1 of The Wire. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Jen's been away in weekend in sunny Birmingham with Becky, which has meant I got the rare opportunity to do what I want all weekend, which is mostly watching movies, playing Dead Space and watching TV. (This of course is meant to be a hilarious wry juxtaposition on the previous paragraph, as I am in no way 'under the thumb', but I didn't know how to make it work and/or funny. If anything it shows how tragically dull my life is. boo).

Most of the weekend was spent round Scott and John's, doing the above. Scott's installed a wood burner in his house, which has led to a fun new game: Will it Burn. The first thing John said when I walked in on Saturday was 'does it smell of cat piss in here?'* which is pretty odd considering they don't have a cat. Maybe they've been burning cats. I think that's taking Will it Burn too far. Let's face it, you're not gonna get much heat out of cat.

I've managed to watch a few films this weekend, three (Eden Lake, Pineapple Express & Death Race) consecutively.

Eden Lake was enjoyable yet predictable. It's basically a run-of-the-mill 'yokels chasing tourists round a forest' type film, but with hoodies instead of yokels. I think the idea of using hoodies is inspired, because it does make the scenario slightly more believable. Most of the kids clearly didn't want to be torturing and killing people, but due to peer pressure and escalation they are forced into it. Unfortunately we managed to write the film's entire plot within the first five minutes, with a selection of endings. The film makers went with what we dubbed 'the comedy/ironic' ending, which was a tad disappointing.

This said, it was a well made film, and managed to drive us up the wall, which i'm pretty sure was intentional. The closing shot was especially effective at leaving the viewer feeling empty and frustrated, ruing over the futileness of it all. I also think it's hilarious that a movie about feral kids and their ignorant piece of shit scum parents was given 5 stars from the Daily Mail.

Pineapple Express didn't improve too much the second time round. I'll admit that It has its moments, but there's long stretches with no real laughs, let alone belly laughs. It does have a great line when Rogan is worried that when his girlfriend goes to college she will "start listening to Godspeed You! Black Emperor and The Shins and become a lesbian". I like The Shins, so maybe I should give Godspeed and Lesbianism a go.

Death Race was far better then expected, violent, stupid and there was plenty of live action stunts. Yet, I can't think of more then a sentence to say about it. Unexpectedly, out of the three movies, I probably enjoyed it the most.

I also watched 'Les Diaboliques', which i'll talk about more in a Blog/Rant I want to try and write this week. Finally, I saw the last half of Rocky 5. I've never seen a Rocky film before but it appears that they are morality tales, where the moral is that the only way of getting respect from your wife, child, coach, fans and enemy is to beat the shite out of said enemy in a parking lot. The priest cheering Rocky on when he was hospitalising some young ruffian was hilarious.

I began playing Continuous Number Plate Spotting (CNPS for short) a few weeks back, and I'm currently up to 11. I think this fact is a clear indicator of how bored I am driving to work and back. Nether the less, I'm going to make it 999. It may mean weekends touring the country's car parks but at least it's a hobby. And it's better then train-spotting, they can spot trains in any arbitrary order, where's the fun in that? Losers.

All in all, a pretty dull week so congrats if you've read this far. One more thing, I've finally paid up the outstanding balance on Glastonbury, so Jen has no escape now.

* They were burning wood that they think a cat may of peed on, which I spun for comedy value. Hilarious!

2009, Week 2

The fuzzy happiness of the christmas holiday has worn off, leaving irritable tiredness. Most of the week was spent trying to catch up on sleep by going to bed earlier than normal and then playing round after round of expert suduko on the iPod. Unfortunately this meant I ended up getting to sleep later, annoyed that it took me 50 minutes to complete a game when it takes Jen 20.

Jen was off ill one day this week, which meant I didn't have her driving behind me before I get to the M1. When I take the exit onto the motorway I normally frantically wave at her, and I very almost did it to whomever was driving behind me that day.

Waving at strangers seems to get me in trouble. A few moths back I was driving, minding my own business when a kid in the car in front started giving me a damian-esque stare. I'm guessing it's just British Reserve, but I always tend to avoid eye contact in these situations, hoping the kid will go away. Unfortunately avoiding eye contact meant not looking at the road, which I'm pretty sure is frowned upon. Therefore, despite my 20 years+ experience of looking at things, the little bastard was winning. Not wanting to be outdone, I decided that If I waved at the kid he'd probably get embarrassed and play his evil Derren Brown mind games on someone else. Unfortunately, this slightly backfired as far from embarrassing the kid, it clearly freaked him out. I then had to spend the next 2 minutes not making eye contact with the kid and his concerned mother.

We got the new TV this week, replacing our CRT with a sexy HD TV, which makes our virgin TV signal look even more shit. It's like watching TV with the adobe 'water colour' filter permanently applied. Progress! It does make 'Dead Space' even more scary though. Who every did the sound design on the game deserves an award, or preferably someone jumping out of their cupboard's shouting 'boo' at every opportunity. Let's see how they like it! This is the first game I've played since I was a kid that clearly had a physical effect on me. I'm always quite shakey after I've played, my body clearly pumped with adrenaline. I think the last game that got to me anything like that is 'Alien Trilogy' on the PS1, and that was only the first few levels before it turned into a derivative FPS. Oh, and Sabre Wulf on the Spectrum, that had me running out the room screaming whenever the titular wulfy appeared.

We stayed over at Becky and Matt's on Saturday. On the way down Jen and I were working our way through the family tree as far as we can remember. I was slightly embarrassed that I couldn't really remember my Grandmother's name, on my Mum's side. I don't think the fact that I never met my grandmother is a valid excuse. I think her name was Christa, although this an educated guess based upon that fact that it's one of my sister's middle names. The only interesting thing I know about her is that she was in 'The League of German Girls', which was the female equivalent of the Hitler Youth (this little nugget won me a £10 book voucher for a year 9 report on world war 2, so hey, some good did come out of the Nazi party). You'd think this fact would lead me to ask many more questions about her in the past, yet I didn't. I also know that my Grandfather was a tank driver in the war, so I'd imagine there's a quite interesting story to be told. I'll find out more this week and follow up.

2009, Week 1

2009 started as it did last year, a few people round ours (Becky, Matt & John), alcohol and the girls annihilating the boys on Sing Star (I blame everyone else, and the introduction of Sing Star Abba). Unlike last year, the party finished on the afternoon of the 2nd. As John and I were first up after the night before (not strictly true, I'm pretty sure I woke John up like an annoying kid on christmas morning) we decided to have a go on Gears of War 2 that I borrowed from my brother. We spent the morning on the sofa in sleeping bags, fully clothed. After Becky and Matt had gone, not wanting to upset the status quo we spent the next day and a half in sleeping bags playing GOW and watching a 3 hour IT Crowd Marathon. Best New Years Ever.

On Sunday we saw a preview of Slumdog Millionaire at Leicester Highcross's Showcase Cinema De Lux, thanks to the good people at www.seefilmfirst.com. As we were late we ended up on the front row (which thanks to De Lux's reclining chairs wasn't too bad). There was a couple with a small kid sitting next to us, who's kid kept trying to give her bottle to Jen thinking she was mummy. Normally I'd be annoyed, but hey it's free and it was actually quite funny seeing this kid run around without a care in the world whilst on screen [spoiler] slum kids were having their eyes destroyed by gang masters to increase their begging potential. It was a great film, melodramatic, but countered with gritty realism. Also, it had Paper Planes on the soundtrack, which is always a plus (although it didn't help save Pineapple Express from mediocrity). In fact, i'm not even sure how a kid got into a 15 rated film.

Over Christmas Jen and I were talking about the white stuff. Jen reckoned that it doesn't snow as much as when were kids. I countered (less eloquently then written, of course) that we romanticise memories of snow when were kids, and because of this these moments are permanently committed to memory. Snow was fun when you didn't have to drive expensive fragile sledges (cars), and when throwing an icy ball of pain at whomever you were with wouldn't cause serious rifts in the relationship. As if our omnipotent friend was trying to back me up the first day back to work was after a night of snow (As much I like God helping me prove a point, I can't help but think his messing around with a snow machine meant he really dropped the ball in Gaza)

We bought a new TV from Currys today, although we won't have till Wednesday. I've noticed that I've got into the habit of arguing with sales staff whatever i'm buying something of moderate value. I think I'm always in the right but I'm sure I come across as a bit of dick. Today it was over Curry's overpriced warrantee. Apparently because LCD TVs are new technology we don't know how long they'll last (These Colecos'll rust up on ya' like that!) and the normal manufacturing guarantee doesn't cover you if pixels fail (a half-truth, it will if more then x fail. In any case, if any fail out-of-the box, i'll just return the TV straight away using Curry's handy 21 day returns policy). Despite the half-truths and lies used to try and sell us the warrantee I politely declined. She responded with a look of disbelief, as if I've just shat on her sofa. She asked if i'm really sure I don't want their great warrantee. This set me off and I pointed the faults of her aforementioned reasons for buying their warrantee. I argued that I have accidental damage on my house cover anyway, so why purchase it again? She countered that I would have to pay an excess on home insurance, I countered that my home insurance excess was less then the cost of their overpriced cover. This went on for a few minutes whilst Jen stood there looking a bit embarrassed. The point was, it didn't get me anywhere, I'm pretty sure I didn't trigger some sort of sales epiphany: 'what an enlightening gentleman, I have seen the errors of my ways and will ensure that I'm 100% honest with any future customer, even if it means I cannot trick them into to buying our over-priced warrantee despite that fact I would get handsome reward'. So an extra new years resolution (taking the count to 4) is to stop getting into pointless arguments, I only come across as a self-righteous dick.

I've bought a fair few CDs this week. I had very little new music last year and as a result the stuff I did get was played to death. Some initial reactions: Santagold - Santagold, solid pop record, although I'm already fed up of the few tracks that have been played to death on adverts. Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles - Nice to hear something legitimately different, the chopped up vocals on opening track is awesome, although I was listening to it at work and freaked out for a few seconds when I was convinced I was played NES in the office. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes, Pitchfork's album of the year. This wasn't what I'd expected, very laid back, I can see it being a grower. Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours, Another Pitchfork pick and I really enjoyed it on first play. Sounding like LCD Soundsystem and Rapture with a careful measure of 80s (see Ladyhawke) I can see this becoming something of an obsession this year, if not a little throwaway (see Ladyhawke).