I went back to work today. It was a joke that was not funny, so how's about some jokes that are funny. (Well I think so).

DICTIONARY FOR WOMEN'S PERSONAL ADS

1. 40-ish = 49
2. Adventurous = Slept with everyone
3. Athletic = No tits
4. Average looking = Ugly
5. Beautiful = Pathological liar
6. Contagious Smile = Does a lot of pills
7. Emotionally secure = On medication
8. Feminist = Fat
9. Free spirit = Junkie
10. Friendship first = Former very "friendly" person
11. Fun = Annoying
12. New age = Body hair in too many places
13. Open minded = Desperate
14. Outgoing = Loud and embarrassing
15. Passionate = Sloppy drunk
16. Professional = Bitch
17. Voluptuous = Very Fat
18. Large frame = Hugely Fat
19. Real woman = Darts player
20. Wants soul mate = Stalker

WOMENS ENGLISH

1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = You'll be sorry
6. We need to talk = You're in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = You better not
8. Do what you want = You will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = I am upset
10. You're very attentive tonight = Is sex all you ever think about?

MEN'S ENGLISH

1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice tits
5. I love you = Fancy some sex?
6. I am bored = Fancy some sex?
7. May I have this dance? = Fancy some sex?
8. May I call you sometime? = Fancy some sex?
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = Fancy some sex?
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = Fancy some sex?
11. Those shoes don't go with that outfit = I am gay

A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle. For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features. However, when a woman is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his ass.

A Dog is truly a man's best friend. Don't believe me? OK. Just try this experiment: Put your Dog and your wife or girlfriend in the trunk of the car and drive around for an hour. When you finally stop and open the trunk, who is really and truly happy to see you?

"Garage".




There might be some little spoilers ahead. Be aware. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Josie (Pat Shortt) is an amiable, inoffensive, none-too-bright man who works in a garage. He has been at the garage for such a long time that the job is his whole life. Outside of visits to the pub and the shops, Josie lives, eats and sleeps in the garage. Josie is gentle and harmless and a figure of (mostly) good natured fun for the people in the community.

One summer, the owner of the garage hires a teenager called David (Conor Ryan) to work at the garage alongside Josie. After a slow start, Josie builds a tentative relationship with David, and David's friends, but trouble lies ahead...

For a while "Garage" appears to be going nowhere and is in no particular hurry to get there. It comes across as nothing less than a kind of adult, big screen version of Channel 4's "Father Ted". Eccentric Irishmen sporting funny accents going about their idiosyncratic business . (Don't get me wrong. This is not a criticism. I loved "Father Ted". Still do, actually). Then, with a third of the running time still to go, "Garage" takes a turn towards the dark when the innocent Josie fails to realise the limitations of a friendship between a middle aged man and a teenager. "Garage" becomes much more than just a comedy. It becomes a tragicomedy.

I think that "Garage" is a wonderful little movie. It starts slow and gets better. If you have the patience to stick with it, "Garage" will stay in your head long after you have finished watching it. That is the mark of a great movie.

I have been here and I have been there. It is always stressful shopping with Jennifer.

Today Jennifer purchased a printer, spare printer cartridges, a headset (because she has decided that she wants Skype) and a spare USB cable. As it happens, it was the wrong type of USB cable, despite myself asking Jennifer several times before we left the house to check the type of cable that the printer needed. I could have done it myself, but she said I was 'interfering in her business'.

Apparently I am also 'unhelpful' and 'an arrogant little shit' and 'no good to man or beast'. I'm glad that any vagueness on those points has now been cleared up, because I was unsure of exactly what I am.

After shopping I saw a film called "Garage", which I liked, but I don't want to write about it now.

Reading around the blogs, there appear to be some very unhappy people about. I wish I could take the unhappiness away from all of us, really I do, but you just cannot wrap your arms around the whole world.

Yes, I did have a hangover yesterday. Probably explains why I forgot all about writing about "Meet The Spartans".



When the history of movie making in the noughties is finally written, it will no doubt be agreed that the decision to green light a parody of a parody was actually a pretty good decision. (What's that? You don't agree that "300" was a parody of a swords and sandals epic? Don't be daft! Of course it was. Great film, though.) "Meet The Spartans" has bestrode (bestridden?) the U.S. film charts and is currently sitting triumphant at the top of the U.K. film charts.

Frankly, this is not bad for a film that has been, more or less, universally lambasted and criticised as one of the worst films of the year. I think it just goes to prove the truth of what William Goldman wrote in his fine book "Adventures In The Screen Trade". Nobody knows anything.

Anyway, what do I think?

The best bits: Nicole Parker's takeoff of Britney Spears, which was brilliant and made me laugh a lot, and Carmen Electra's body.

The worst bits: Er... Actually just about everything else.

"Meet The Spartans" really is a magnificently bad movie. Dog howlingly bad. Car crash bad. End of the world bad. Black plague, infestation of locusts, drought crisis, zombie holocaust, Sharon Osborne on "The X-Factor" bad. Bad. Very bad.

There is pleasure to be made in discovering a real stinker and, schizophrenically, I do not consider going to see "Meet The Spartans" a waste of an afternoon. I would recommend it to everybody just for the comparison required to recognise a good movie when you see one. Just try not to think of the money it must have cost to make this masterpiece and the films that could have been made instead.

Sigh.

Still, to look on the bright side, it was nice to see the U.K.'s very own Sean Maguire, of "Eastenders" and "Grange Hill" fame, all buff, grown up and achieving success in the States. I just hope that it is not the end of his career.

I managed to lose a day, yesterday.

My Brother called late on Tuesday and asked if I wanted to go somewhere to watch the France-England friendly on Wednesday evening. It sounded like a good idea, so I agreed. I never realised that, after seeing "Meet The Spartans" mid afternoon (more about that later), we would be in O'Neill's on Broad Street from 4pm to way past 11pm, drinking the whole of the time. Oh, well... Never mind. The game was poor. No excitement, no energy and we lost 1-0, but it was still a laugh and it was nice catching up and talking bullshit with my Brother.

So, where was I?

Oh, yes. I was going to write about Harold Pinter's plays "The Lover/The Collection" at the Comedy Theatre. Jennifer and I saw them on Saturday night. It was my choice, this time.



A small digression, if I may. There is a point. Bear with me.

Between February 1980 and December 1980 I attended work experience at the library at Aston University in Birmingham, for the princely sum of 30 quid a week. At the time the work experience programme was criticised by many people for being a plentiful source of cheap labour, at a time when the unemployment figures in the UK were going through the roof. I can see why some would feel that, but I certainly didn't feel it at the time. True, there was no guarantee of a job at the end of the placement, and some of the training was laughable, but the 30 quid I picked up was 30 quid more than I would be getting sitting on my arse at home waiting for my dole money. The placement did me good. Having to get up in the morning, wash, dress, leave the house and be somewhere for 9am was the discipline and structure that I needed. Still do need it, actually.

At the beginning the placement was frightful. Initially I was stuck in the reclassification section with an awful woman who used to arrive in the mornings on a broomstick amid a squad of flying monkeys. I didn't like her and she didn't like me. Eventually I was moved into student services (or photocopying, ha, ha!) and the two guys who worked in that section were great. A big, middle aged Communist called Norman, who was a dedicated member of CND, and a young, cool, black dude called Wayne who was the in-house technician. Lovely people, the pair of them. They took my surly ass under their wing and showed me that work could be great.

Lunchtimes, I would wander into the library to read, inevitably ending up in the Plays section. It was there that I discovered, amongst others, the works of Harold Pinter. During my 10 months at Aston University I read everything he had written up until 1980 . Strangely, since then, I have read very little. Maybe it was a phase?

OK. Digression over.

"The Lover/The Collection" are two plays about sex, role play and the deceptions and games that adults play.

Sitting here now I am thinking that Saturday night, amazing as it may seem, was the first time I have ever seen a Pinter play performed live. I have seen a few movies written by the man ("The Quiller Memorandum" is one of my favourite spy films of all time), but not a play. My first thoughts are that watching Pinter is a very different animal from reading Pinter. I never realised how funny he is/was. Reading plays can be very dry and serious. Having the words recited by good actors like Timothy West, Gina McKee, Charlie Cox and Richard Coyle makes all the difference, plus, of course, an audience that is not scared to laugh.

I really enjoyed "The Lover/The Collection". Jennifer thought that the plays were dated and she is probably right (the plays were written in 1961 and 1962 respectively), but the actors sparkled and the script crackled with sly humour and ambiguity. Interesting that the plays were being staged at the Comedy Theatre. I think this confused the audience. They are funny plays, but they are not comedies. Or are they comedies? Difficult to tell. I confuse myself. Also a shame that the theatre was half empty. A real shame. Just goes to show that good reviews can mean little to nothing when you are trying to get bums on seats. "The Lover/The Collection" has had some fantastic reviews. Counts for nothing.

The London trip this time had nothing to do with shopping, but everything to do with seeing shows. So, other than quick trips to "Murder One" (where we picked up a couple of Agatha Christie collections, because it is important to support your independent book sellers) and "Fortnum And Mason" (where we picked up fancy morello cherry jam, cakey cakes and some Lucifer Ginger and Chilli biscuits, because it is important to indulge your inner snob), we bought nothing at all except theatre tickets and the odd restaurant meal.

The theatre experiences were mixed.

"Absurd Person Singular" at the Garrick Theatre.

"Absurd Person Singular" is an old Alan Ayckbourn play from 1972, dealing with the changing fortunes of three married couples over three subsequent Christmas'.

Going to see this play was Jennifer's choice. I felt it was dated, awful rubbish. I was so bored I actually dozed off a couple of times, which is quite unusual for me in a theatre. Very middle class material, very old fashioned material, very not the kind of thing I would consider spending even a second watching if it turned up on the TV schedules.

It has a cast full of familiar names, and not a bad cast, truth be told. Jane Horrocks couldn't make it due to some kind of indisposition, so the understudy Kerry Owen substituted. David Bamber, David Horovitch, Jenny Seagrove, John Gordon Sinclair and Lia Williams were all present and correct, and acting exactly as expected.

Not my kind of thing, but Jennifer said she enjoyed it and that's all that really mattered.

"Speed The Plow" at the Old Vic.

On the verge of striking a deal to make a typical, empty Hollywood blockbuster, two Hollywood producers are in self congratulatory mood. A temporary secretary causes one of the producers to doubt himself. What will he choose? Commerce or art?

I got the tickets for this play as one of Jennifer's Birthday presents. Good money well spent, if you ask me. What I had seen of David Mamet's work onscreen before now I had really enjoyed. As I had never seen any Mamet onstage before, the chances are that I may well have tried to get tickets for this production anyway as we have more or less enjoyed everything we have seen at the Old Vic. The fact that it starred very on-form Kevin Spacey and Jeff Goldblum, and Mary Poppins star Laura Michelle Kelly, was just gravy, frankly.

Except for a dip in the middle section, when the energy level drops somewhat, I thought that "Speed The Plow" was a very sharp, very good production indeed. A fast, finger clicking, energetic, rhythmic and really funny play. I have seen Kevin Spacey onstage a couple of times now and honestly he has never been better. Just a dynamo of energy. Jeff Goldblum is incredibly tall, incredibly thin and weirdly edgy. I have always thought that he is a supreme character actor and in this production he bounces of Kevin Spacey perfectly. A word about Laura Michelle Kelly who is also very good as the temporary secretary Karen. I read that Madonna created the part on Broadway. I suppose that anybody who plays a role must bring something to it of their own persona. I am convinced that Madonna was miscast. Karen is an innocent, a sincere and honest person. Or is she? There is doubt. Maybe casting Mary Poppins was the right way to go?

I am not surprised at all that "Speed The Plow" is playing to a full houses every performance. It is a great production. I would thoroughly recommend it.

I will write about "The Lover/The Collection" tomorrow. I am being called to come and eat.

Ooops! Nearly forgot.

It is Jennifer's birthday today, so Happy Birthday, Jennifer!

Happy Easter, y'all! Just checking in.

We got back from London yesterday, but the inclination to post was not there as it was a fraught and awful journey, I was tired and also suffering from food poisoning. Still am, actually, although the worst of it has passed. Literally. I still have a stomach ache that comes in waves. I would be pissed off at having wasted the Bank Holiday Monday skulking around the house, but we are off work this week, so it could be worse.

I will write about the trip tomorrow. I don't want to do it now. "Absurd Person Singular", "Speed The Plow" and "The Lover/The Collection". Mixed impressions of the theatre gigs, but it was good weekend.

I hope everybody is well.

I sit.

I wait.

Jennifer dresses.

The taxi is due at 6:15am. It is now 5:36am.

Of course we haven't packed yet. That would be too easy. Jennifer has forbidden me to go anywhere near the suitcase as she 'packs better than me'.

So I blog.

Er... That's about it. Back on Sunday.

You can see amazing things if you are in the right place at the right time.

Early this morning I was at the bus stop waiting for a bus. (As opposed to waiting for a camel, Jerry? Oh, do shut up Jerry!) From that particular bus stop you can all the way to the top of the hill. I am no good at judging distances, but it is a long way. So, I stood there. Bored. Gazing up the hill. Nobody around. No traffic. Then, suddenly, I spied a lone figure, in the middle of the road, heading in my direction. The figure was moving at some impossible speed. After 20/30 seconds I realised that it was a guy on roller skates. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman and was wearing a top hat.

He got closer. He was moving fast. He was all over the road. He jumped around and skated forwards and backwards. When he finally drew level with me, he spun, lifted his hat, saluted me, swerved around the corner and was gone.

Jennifer thinks that I dozed off for a moment and imagined the whole thing. Or maybe a blood vessel burst in my brain and the backfiring synapses created a hallucination? But... No. It really happened.

Amazing.

... And with that I bid thee 'fair thee well'. We are off to London for a couple of days. Back on Sunday. If I happen to come across an Internet cafe, I may well post. Or I may not.

Have a great Easter and I hope that all of your eggs are nice ones.

Da da da daaaaaah!

"The Cottage".



You might say that "The Cottage" has opened to less than stellar reviews in the UK. Frankly, this is a slight understatement. The truth of the matter is that "The Cottage" has opened to stinkingly bad reviews in the UK. Just terrible write ups.

Part of the issue the UK critics seem to have with "The Cottage" is that Director Paul Andrew Williams decided to follow up his low budget, gritty, violent and critically lauded thriller "London To Brighton", with a pretty generic horror film. I don't mind that so much. In fact I kind of admire it. As a film fan I see all kinds of films. I would imagine that any film Director started off at some point as a film fan and, as such, would like to have a crack at making all kinds of films. If "The Cottage" had been a masterpiece then it wouldn't have mattered, would it? Just another Director working in a different genre.

Sadly, "The Cottage" is not a masterpiece. Far from it. Slapstick horror is very difficult to pull off, and "The Cottage" does not come close, but it is not the total flop you might think it would be from reading the reviews. I think the problem with "The Cottage" is that it cannot decide what it wants to be. Knockabout kidnapping comedy or knockabout horror comedy? It is a bit of both, but not enough of either. Sad to say it, but all of the best bits are all in the trailer.

Andy Serkis and Reece Shearsmith are fine as the bickering, mismatched brothers and kidnappers: Andy Serkis permanently grumpy and frustrated, Reece Shearsmith, jumpy, under the thumb and a sufferer of Mottephobia. (You can look it up.) Boobilicious, lads mag favourite Jennifer Ellison as the tough as nails kidnap victim was a bit disappointing. I was expecting a lot more from her and didn't get it. Not nearly an energetic enough performance.

I went to see "The Cottage" with my Brother. I got a one word review from him. Shit. Maybe that says it all?

Didn't post last night. I was defeated by the incredibly cold weather (at this time last year the heating was on minimum, so I don't know what the hell is going on), my sniffly and incredibly blocked up nose, and my utter indifference at the thought of writing anything.

Instead I watched "Just Friends" on cable. Crass, awful and terrible and, of course, I laughed like a hyena. I have only just realised how incredibly hot Anna Faris is. Then I fell asleep on the settee. End of night.

This evening, I have eaten food, done a stack of ironing, watched "C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation" and fell asleep on the settee. Again. Maybe I am rundown or exhausted or maybe it is just that time of the year.

Anyway, no time now for thoughts on "The Cottage". Tomorrow... But I have said that before.

I have all of the blogs I regularly read as feeds on Google Reader. Over this weekend it has shown very few new posts.

People have lives. That is good. I have not posted much myself. Have I (gulp!) got a life?

Friday evening I watched "Epic Movie" on cable. It is a howlingly, astoundingly bad and unfunny movie. An hour and a half of my life that I will never get back. I hope I don't regret it. I might need that hour and a half in the future. I must see "Meet The Spartans" when it gets released over here. According to IMDB it is 0.1 point worse than "Epic Movie", which I find very hard to believe.

Saturday morning I went to work, because Jennifer asked me to. Nothing much to report. I didn't complete a single thing that I wanted to complete, and so have nothing to show for the overtime. Managers will moan but, hey! fuck 'em.

Saturday afternoon I went to see my Mom to pick up Jennifer's presents, from my family, for her Birthday on the Monday after next. (24th March 2008. She will be 48, but don't say I said so.) I didn't stay long. The house was too hot and smoky and I was tired and feeling ill. The cold is hanging on.

Saturday evening I watched lots of television. I cannot remember any of what I watched except for "Love Soup". Very sly, brilliantly written, total genius in fact. Saturday's episode had a particularly melancholy denouement for anybody who watched the hour length episodes, a couple of years ago, and wondered what had happened to Gil Raymond.

Today I went to see "The Cottage" with my Brother. I will write about that tomorrow.

Day 3 or 4 of the cold? Day 4. I didn't post yesterday. I was much more interested in watching "Torchwood" and "Dexter".

My throat is sore. I have the sniffles. I have a cough. I am burning up with fever. My legs and arms are aching like shit. I keep losing my breath.

Other than that I am just fine and dandy. Thanks for asking.

I have been dragging myself into work, only because Jennifer asked me to and has been really nice to me this week. We are terribly short staffed, what with holiday being taken at the last minute (the holiday year at the PLC ending on 31st March) and various members of staff being whisked away to attend ITIL seminars and examinations.

(Sidebar. ITIL. Utter bullshit and a waste of money. The PLC wouldn't recognise a procedure if one appeared, bit them on the arse and announced, "Hi there! I'm a procedure!" I'll go into the whole subject of ITIL-shite sometime soon, but not now. I will say one thing, though. One manager who thinks he is absolutely great but really hasn't got the intellectual ability to supervise the position of the pen on his desk, came back from one of the exams today looking completely shell shocked. Maybe, hitting the wall of his limitations? Oh, I did smile, in between coughing. About fucking time. End of sidebar.)

I had a story to tell, but I will do it another time. It can wait. It event happened in 1979.

Best advert running at the moment.



Genius.

So, yes, I have a cold. My throat feels as though I have been gargling broken glass. I have been drinking orange juice, eating lots of vegetables and fruit and other things ('You have to feed a cold, son' - Mom Cornelius) and sucking on lots of Lockets, Strepsils and Halls Mentholpytus sweets.

No effect, of course. But it is only day 2. These things take time.

Still, if my form is consistent, this cold will be gone before the Friday after next, which is when we go to London for a sqwark. Kevin Spacey, Jeff Goldblum and Laura Michelle Kelly in "Speed The Plow" await.

I had a story to tell. I will tell it on Thursday. Sleep is good.

"The Bank Job".



There might be the odd mild spoiler in the next couple of paragraphs, so feel free to skip.

In it's own small way "The Bank Job" attempts the same trick that the writer James Ellroy pulled off so well in his fine novels "American Tabloid" and "The Cold Six Thousand". That is, to weave a connected narrative from matters of public record (the Baker Street Walkie-Talkie heist and subsequent D-Notice, the disgrace of certain Conservative government ministers due to sex scandals and the fall of the criminal Michael X) and public rumour (the indiscretions of Princess Margaret, the involvement of Lord Louis Mountbatten in British intelligence operations and the true extent of police corruption and involvement with certain London based porn barons of the early seventies). It works, kind of. The problem with "The Bank Job" is that it takes too long to get going.

During the first half of "The Bank Job" there is a definite whiff of seen-it-all-before ennui. The job is instigated, the team is assembled, the job is pulled. Pretty unrealistic, so-so, anaemic stuff, frankly, with variable acting. (Whoever told Saffron Burrows that she can do 'cockney'?)

Then suddenly, during the second half, writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais rediscover the form they had when they wrote the brilliant early 70's Richard Burton vehicle "Villain", and "The Bank Job" becomes really entertaining, gritty, seedy, violent, fast moving and complex. Shame it wasn't like that from the start.

Nice, slightly out of character performance by Jason Statham, who only has one real 'hardman' moment. Fun, extended cameos from a galaxy of jobbing British character actors. Peter Bowles, Keeley Hawes and David Suchet, amongst others. See if you can spot Colin Salmon. I didn't even realise he was in the movie until I read the credits.

In retrospect, probably a missed opportunity, and it should have been better, but "The Bank Job" is still worth seeing if you have the patience to stick with it. It does get better as it goes along.

********

I have a cold. (Coughs.)

Bit tired tonight. I will write about "The Bank Job" tomorrow. Mixed feelings.

I was sad to read yesterday about the death of Norman Smith.

Norman Smith was the engineer on all of the Beatles recordings made between 1962 and 1965. John Lennon called him 'Normal Norman'. After being promoted by EMI from engineer to producer, he signed the Pink Floyd and produced three of their early albums and the single "See Emily Play". In the 1970's he had a couple of chart hits under the name Hurricane Smith, including a US #1 with "Oh Babe What Would You Say?". John Lennon must have liked Norman a lot. He sent him a telegram of congratulations.

So, it has to be done.

John Lennon in his Dylan phase (I love this song),



the best of the early Pink Floyd singles (ditto),



and Hurricane Smith's biggest hit single (great stuff).



RIP.

The week has been a bit of a marathon. Too many late nights, too many early mornings. Jennifer had the week off, so I have been de facto team leader. It has gone well enough, I suppose, but I could have done with a lie in today. I didn't get one because I managed to get talked into going into work today to finish some stuff off. Never again.

Too tired to do anything when I got home. I fell asleep in front of "Diamonds Are Forever". I did stay awake long enough to see Natalie Wood's sister Lana thrown, topless, from a Vegas hotel room window. Lana Wood played a character called Plenty O'Toole. She sure was.

"Margot At The Wedding".



"Margot At The Wedding" is one of those small scale, low budget films that turn up now and again to give A-listers, and near A-listers, the chance to do some naturalistic performing. These films are always welcome. I have said it before and I will say it again. The only films that really matter are films about people, in whatever situation they find themselves.

In "Margot At The Wedding" we have Nicole Kidman acting her socks off, Jennifer Jason Leigh demonstrating what a fine and underused talent she is and Jack Black playing a more vulnerable variation on his arrogant loser persona. I was surprised by Jack Black. I like some of his comedies as much as the next guy, but "Margot At The Wedding" is not his normal oeuvre at all, and after an initial thought of 'Jack Black? No way!', I thought he was effective.

"Margot At The Wedding" is a good film, and really kind of enjoyable, even if the whole dysfunctional family thing has been done a million times before. It is as funny as it is dramatic, with secrets revealed, adults behaving badly and children constantly puzzled by the grown ups that are supposed to be setting them a good example. It is a peek into the life of a family with problems.

Just like your family.

This evening I did intend to write a review of "Margot At The Wedding". I knew exactly what I was going to write, but I suppose that it can wait until another day.

Instead I have been replying to emails and publicising this new blog to some old friends. (Other old friends to follow in the next day or so.) It took a lot longer than I expected, which is a good thing. Lots to say to old friends.

"Untraceable".



Sometimes life dictates that the only reason you want to see a movie is because you quite fancy the lead actress. So, was it worth watching "Untraceable", just because it featured the gorgeous, sexy, babealicious, hotness that is Diane Lane? Well, it was and it wasn't.

"Untraceable" has a good central idea: A diabolical serial killer tortures and murders their victims live on the Internet, with the speed of death determined by how many people are logging onto the website to watch. It is an interesting premise that neatly dovetails into the debate about Internet responsibility and horror as entertainment. (As a quick sidebar, only today I read a story about a gang rape, filmed on a mobile phone, where the footage was posted to You Tube and watched by hundreds of people before it was taken down. Entertaining? No. Disgusting, frankly.)

"Untraceable" has a good director in Gregory Hoblit, a man who is probably never going to win any Oscars, but is a skilled practitioner in the art of making entertaining, twisty thrillers ("Primal Fear", "Fallen", "Frequency", et al.) I have enjoyed most of his films, even if the end of "Frequency" was a Coca Cola advertisement.

I was looking forward to "Untraceable", but sadly felt that it was not nearly hardcore enough for a target audience used to the mayhem of films like "Saw" or "Hostel". Yes, the two main murders are pretty gruesome and horrific (and ingenious), but "Untraceable" came across as far too lame, too slick, too smooth and too tasteful. But, I did consider the fact that maybe, if "Untraceable" had been a more vicious and grungy proposition, sexy Diane would not have signed up?

Oh, yes. One more thing.

Guys, your title "Untraceable" was rubbish. You should have called your movie "Kill With Me", the title of the fictional website in the movie. It has a certain ring to it. Don't you agree?

Am I happy with the new blog, as is?

Yes. I think I am.

Open for business tomorrow.

Told you Andy Abraham would win.

True, there is no chance he will win Eurovision itself. Along with millions of others I will be voting for Ireland's entry.

This is it. Seriously.



Over the weekend I have seen "Untraceable" and "Margot At The Wedding". I also had quite a nice Mother's Day around at my Mom's. No time to write them up now as it is quite late and I have to go back to work tomorrow.

Life is pain.

We all in? Everybody here?

Good. Let's go.

Nothing very exciting to write about yet, I'm afraid. I have added the same links as before to the sidebar. Books, Gigs, Movies and Television. I think that maybe some new ones might follow. I need to add a site counter so that I can see how unpopular I am.

I'm off to watch "Eurovision 2008: Your Decision". My money is on Andy Abraham to win.