A few weeks ago, the Company decided to relax the rules regarding Desktop wallpaper on work PC's. Instead of having to having to put up with the Company motto ("Rise to the level of your incompetence") burning it's way into the retina, staff were allowed to choose anything for their backdrop, within reason. Obviously no porn, Nazi atrocities or Jade Goody.

I have thus far been changing my backdrop, every Thursday, to the first thing that crossed my mind that morning. So far I have had

A mad duck.

Robert Vaughan and David McCallum from "The Man From Uncle".

A dogs arse.

The Small Faces.

This morning I chose this picture.



Julianne Moore.

Might keep that one for a little bit...

***

It is July 31st 2008. Jerry wins!

At the beginning of this month I decided that I would test myself and try to post something to the blog every day. I have done it. I am A-number 1. I am the big cheese. The big kahuna. Big Daddy. Top Dog. President of the state of Cornelius.

It has been an interesting exercise, but as these things go, it is a pathetic kind of challenge to myself. It means nothing in the grand scale of things, but I am still pleased with myself.

I set rules. I did not want any posts along the lines of, "I can't think of anything to write/I am really tired/I never get any sex/I'm really bored", etc. I think I kept mostly to that. Everything else was fair game. There have been lots of posts about movies and television. A fair few posts about work. Some random thoughts. Pictures of ladies and some blokes.

Er...

Yeah.

I may have a day off tomorrow. I will be back on Saturday, before I go out with my Brother.

Jennifer has told me that she is thinking of getting me an iPod Classic for my Birthday. (My Birthday is at the end of August. I will look forward to getting a card.) Telling me has spoilt the surprise of the present, but Jennifer wanted to make sure that I do not have an irrational hatred of Apple and all it's infernal works. Apparently I have a lot of irrational hatred of things.

I don't mind getting an iPod Classic. My 20GB Creative Zen Sleek is nearly full.

Thoughts? Good choice? Bad choice? Do I embrace an iPod with open arms or do I shun it like the devil spunk that is cheese? I have just read an article here which scared the shit out of me. Maybe I should just ask for the next largest Creative machine, chickenshit that I am?

I suppose if I am in a selfish state of mine I could say 'Yes, please' and 'Thanks a lot!' as an iPod Classic would cost me nothing if received as a gift, and it would be no skin of my nose if it blew up. It would be Jennifer's problem.

Unless it takes my PC with it of course! Then I would have to hurt somebody.

Ooooh... Decisions, decisions.

**

Tickets have been purchased for "The Dark Knight" at the IMAX Cinema at the Think Tank on Sunday 10th August. I decided that two more weeks was all Jennifer and I would be prepared to wait. Hopefully the popcorn eating barbarians will have seen it by then.

Tickets have also been purchased for "The X-Files 2: Electric Boogaloo", sorry, "The X-Files: I Want To Believe" at the Electric Cinema next Sunday. Jennifer will also be attending this screening, no doubt to salivate over David Duchovny, a man whom she has described as "Such a very pretty boy" and "Just too beautiful to live". Hmm... Indeed.

We will probably both be nursing hangovers. Jennifer will be at a wedding in Coventry on Saturday night and I will be out on a sqwark with my Brother seeing Them Is Me. I am not concerned. I am sure that the sight of the lovely Gillian Anderson will be enough to ease my troubled brow.



Tired now. I will add links tomorrow.

Today I was mostly studying tattoos.

I saw a girl with the numbers "1989" tattooed on the back of her neck. I am assuming that it was the year she was born, which would make her 19 years old. She looked a lot older.

I saw a skinhead with spiderweb tattoos on the back of his hands, his forearms and on his neck. He looked pretty ferocious, especially with the ring through his nose.

I saw a tech guy at work who has the West Bromwich Albion logo tattooed onto his right arm. A man of little or no taste.

I saw another tech guy at work who has the yin and yang symbol tattooed onto his arm. He's all yin and no yang, if you ask me.

I saw a couple of girls with sun symbols tattooed on the base of their spines. It must be a popular one. Two girls at work have exactly the same tattoo in exactly the same place.

I saw a girl with a multitude of little blue stars tattooed onto her shoulders. On her right arm she had a tattoo of a swallow and on her left arm she had a heart with the word "Mom" inside it.

My friend Eleanor (the single Mother) has Chinese writing tattooed onto her right foot. One day I intend to ask her what the writing says.

Sister 3 has a rose tattooed onto her left ankle.

Sister 1, in her wild youth, did a home tattoo of a big, black spot, onto the index finger of her left hand. I have no idea why. Later she had it lasered off.

My Dad had tattoos. On his left arm he had an old fashioned sailing ship, with the sails in full flow. On his right arm he had an anchor. On the cross part of the anchor was written the word "Mom" and on the pointy bit of the anchor was written my Mom's name. He also had a tattoo on his chest, but I cannot remember what it was. It may have been a heart. In fact, thinking about it, I am sure it was a heart. Just above his own heart.

I have no tattoos. A tattoo is not anything I have ever thought about having done. If I had tattoos, what would I have?

Left arm:

The Beatles

and

The Rolling Stones

Right arm:

Mom

inside a heart.

Something that will last forever. Johnny Depp had to change "Wynona Forever" to "Wino Forever" when he split with Wynona Ryder. I wouldn't like to have to do that.

"The Mist".



Pop quiz. Tell me, what do you consider to be the most successful Stephen King adaptation, made for film or television? "Carrie"? "The Dead Zone"? "Salem's Lot"? "Stand By Me"? No! Not "Maximum Overdrive"!! (And if that is your choice, may God forgive you, because I won't.)

All of the above, except "Maximium Overdrive" of course, are great pieces of work. But my choice as the benchmark Stephen King adaptation would probably be "The Shawshank Redemption", directed by Frank Darabont.

Stephen King has been very good for Frank Darabont. "The Shawshank Redemption" has become a modern classic and "The Green Mile" was nearly as good. I am glad to say that "The Mist" is nearly as good again.

"The Mist" is a great film, perfectly structured, but a film that requires patience. It is a film of the slow build and of a gradual getting to know the characters, their obsessions, their fears and prejudices. It was nice to see a King horror film where his great talent of touching on the reality of a small town, has been exploited. It makes it all the more horrific when all hell does break loose, because the people who are getting hurt are ones that you know.

Thomas Jane is faintly wooden. Personally I would not have cast him, but all of the other performances are top notch. Marcia Gay Harden's possibly psychotic, fundamental christian, Toby Jones' short, pudgy, perfectly ordianary hero, Andre Braugher's uptight, big city lawyer and William Sadler's scared, malleable blue collar worker. All excellent.

"The Mist" is not "The Shawshank Redemption" in one crucial way. Whereas "The Shawshank Redemption" was about hope and life, "The Mist" is about hopelessness and death. One thing that they have in common is an astonishing ending. The ending of "The Mist" is wonderful, horrific, twisted and shocking. Not anything that I saw coming.

"The Mist" is marvellous. Must see.

"Savage Grace".



On 17th November 1972, Barbara Daly Baekeland was murdered by her son Antony. "Savage Grace" is about the relationship between the Mother and Son that led to that event. It was the dictionary definition of a dysfunctional relationship.

I liked "Savage Grace" well enough. I thought it was an interesting film from the long absent Tom Kalin, director of "Swoon". There are some UK critics saying that Julianne Moore's performance in "Savage Grace" might well get her another Oscar nomination, and possibly even the gong itself, but I just cannot see that happening. Julianne Moore is good as Barbara Daly Baekeland (has she ever been anything but good?), and Eddie Redmayne is really terrific as her son Antony, but the film is remote and cold and not one that goes in for the kind of grand gestures that win Oscars.

"Savage Grace" does look wonderful and the cinematography is gorgeous, studying every nook and cranny of the beautiful, indolent rich in all of their glory. All beautifully dressed, nicotine addicted and at times depraved, bored, out of touch and listless.

"Savage Grace" is an interesting peak into an alien world.

I went to see "Savage Grace" today, which was interesting. I have left it a bit late to be writing about it, as I need to be up at 5am tomorrow morning. So, thoughts about "The Mist" and "Savage Grace" tomorrow.

How did I leave it so late? I was tricked into watching "Logans Run". Slow, uninvolving and boring. The dullest two hours of my life. Nothing dates worse than Science Fiction. That is a fact.

Things I have learned today.

1. When Jennifer scrapes her hair back and gathers it into a ponytail, it is not a good idea to say that she looks exactly like Richard Harris in "A Man Named Horse".
2. No matter what a pain in the ass it is to get up really early on a Saturday morning to go to the local supermarket, it is nothing like the pain in the ass of facing the barbarian hordes in the same Supermarket at 13:30 on a Saturday afternoon.
3. My neighbour Keren looks very sexy in short shorts.
4. A nice bottle of San Miguel goes down really well on a hot day.
5. "The Mist" is a really good Stephen King adaptation.
6. Billy Bragg nicked the first two lines of his great song "A New England" ("I was 21 years when I wrote this song, I'm 22 now, but I won't be for long") from Paul Simon's song "Leaves That Are Green".
7. There is no truth in the urban myth that eating a curry on a really hot day cools you down.
8. Heath Ledger's screen presence, and acting ability, improved dramatically between "10 Things I Hate About You" and "A Knight's Tale".
9. "Animal House" is still funny and has barely dated a day.
10. It is not a good idea to mix San Miguel and Stella Artois.

Oooh. Pre-hangover on it's way, methinks. Time for bed.

The weekend arrives. There are plans afoot.

"The Mist", "Savage Grace", but not "The Dark Knight". I am already a bit bored by all of the hype. I will give it a week or two before I descend into the darkness of Gotham City. According to IMDB voters, "The Dark Knight" is already the greatest movie of all time. Check it out for yourself. I don't know what to think about that. Maybe it is? I try never to comment on the quality of films until I have seen them.

Other than that, half day at work tomorrow. Shopping. Some more work in the garden, with the keys to the back door safely in my trouser pocket, and the bolt unscrewed from the door. Ha ha!

What else?

Reading?

Television?

Bank heist?

Sex change?

The options are endless.

Have a great weekend, kids.

Memory cheats, you know. Let me tell you a story.

Years and years ago, when I worked in the IT section of The Chemical Company, I had a Spanish student called Henis as part of my team. Henis was on some kind of work experience in the UK division for 6 months. Henis was a lovely guy. A very quiet, unassuming and gentle man. Very funny man. He had a vague command of the English language, but there are worse things in this life, and anyway, he worked very hard.

Some people disliked Henis. I could never understand why, as he was one of those rare people that it was impossible to dislike. There was one neanderthal shite who treated Henis very badly, eventually being cautioned by the boss. I think that that ass must have been a member of the National Front or British National Party. I remember one conversation when he sprouted on about "them people" taking British jobs. Maybe that was why he didn't like Henis. Definite sense of relief when that cunt finally left.

Henis was a big film fan. My kind of man.

One day Henis came into the office and he had a big smile on his face. He sought me out and the conversation went something like this.

Henis: "Jerry! I see film last night!"

Jerry: "Did you?"

Henis: "Yes. Great film. Great film. Best film I ever see!"

Jerry: "Oh, yeah? What was it called?"

And he told me the name of the film, what it was about and who was in it. Then he started to tell me some of the things that happened in the film.

Henis was so happy. Literally tears of laughter rolled down his cheeks. He acted out scenes from the film. He waved his arms a lot, trying to express the excitement, the brilliance, the sheer magnitude of the cinematic experience.

Henis: "You must see it, Jerry! Next weekend! Yes?"

Sure. Why not? How could I miss the greatest film of all time?

I knew of the film. It was not one I was bothered about seeing. I had heard that it was formulaic rubbish, but what did I know? I try not to criticize films I have never seen. I did go to see the film that weekend.

The film? "Blind Fury" starring Rutger Hauer.



I thought it was good fun. Formula, yes, predictable, yes, but not terrible. Really funny in some parts and Rutger Hauer still had a residual of cool from "Blade Runner". Terry O'Quinn (billed as Terrance O'Quinn), centuries away from playing Locke in "Lost", was also in "Blind Fury", and so was an actress called Lisa Blount, who at the time I thought was really kind of sexy. (She was Debra Winger's friend in "An Officer And A Gentleman" and also had an important part in a really underrated John Carpenter horror film called "Prince Of Darkness".)

So, not bad. Not a bad film at all. Cheers for the tip, Henis.

Jump forward 19 years. In fact, to a couple of hours ago. I had taped "Blind Fury" a couple of days ago and Jennifer and I watched it this evening. It was the first time I had seen it since 1989.

Er... "Blind Fury" is a true piece of shite. Hypnotically awful. Terrible. Cheap, badly acted, badly written, badly everything. Lethargic pace. Nasty, late 80's soundtrack. It features an annoying child who, personally, I would have handed over straight away to the bad guys who were so desperate to get their hands on him. It is a cack film, basically. Shudders. Two hours or so of my life I will never get back.

Jennifer said that she liked it. Vile woman. What does she know?

Memories. Never trust them.

Still no news on the pay reviews. Jennifer has chased and has been told that the confirmation letters are "on their way". I hope so. We get paid on Monday. I can imagine that everybody with access to a calculator will be working out their new salaries the second the money hits the bank. This is assuming that there will be any changes to salaries, of course. Ha ha!

There has been other news. The Company has been taken over by some U.S. based private equity firm. It has been little more than a year since the last takeover. Damned careless, if you ask me.

An email has been distributed explaining what very fine news it is that the current senior management will remain in place. Phew! For one minute there I was quite worried for them. In the same email there was also the bog standard phrase "At the present time XXXXXX have no plans to change existing staffing levels". Sure. Right. Whatever. I think I have read variations on that statement at every company I have ever worked for that has been the subject of a merger/takeover/buyout. It has always been bullshit.

I looked up some information on the private equity firm on a news site. The same phrase kept popping up a couple of times.

Asset stripping.

Ah...

At work:

Did some work without much enthusiasm. Nothing new there, eh?

We are all waiting for the pay review insult. Jennifer tells me that I may be pleasantly surprised this year. Apparently some time ago, Jennifer was asked by her manager who she would recommend for an above average pay review. Who were her stars? Jennifer mentioned 3 people: A guy called Damon King (mid 20's, Kevin Spacey lookalike, very quiet, rumoured to have last spoken back in 2002), Bill North (thin, bald and... er... Northern) and me (short and balding, but still sexy, with an undefinable Clooneyesque/Pittesque/Deppesque charisma around the ladies).

Will I get a decent pay review? It is more likely that Buddy Holly will announce a British tour.

At home:

Tea was fish, mash and peas. Actually, lovely.

Entertainment was "George Gently", which is a middle class, cuddly, BBC, Sunday evening, mid 1960's set detective drama. The kind of thing I would normally jump out of a window to avoid, but I really enjoyed it. Maybe I am going senile?

Then, "Bonekickers". I have written about this series before. It hasn't improved. It really is still kind of awful. Terrible, illogical and unbelievable. Bonkers. It is unthinkable to consider that the BBC will do a second series, after the reviews of the first. I think that "Bonekickers" is unmissable. Thoroughly enjoyable. There is a comedy CGI snake in next weeks episode!

And Julie Graham? Oh, yes. I certainly would.

Here's some pictures of her with her clothes on.

"Donkey Punch".



I went to see "Donkey Punch" with my Brother and Sister 2. My Brother is a man of few words. Here is his review of "Donkey Punch".

"It's just tits and ass and gore." (Shrugs.) "Seen it all before."

Hmm... My Brother was probably right.

Sometimes, though, when the mood strikes me, I can be quite partial to a bit of tits and ass and gore, even if I have seen it all before.

Realistically, as far as slasher movies go, I thought that "Donkey Punch" was OK, Not a great film, but not a terrible film either. Just a bit uneven and not particularly well paced. Once you get past the interminably boring first section, with the 'posh' boys picking up the 'rough' girls and getting down to party on the yacht, the film picks up immensely, with characters deciding to have fun with drugs, fun with sex (in a very explicit, near the knuckle sex scene) and... fun with things that can hurt.

Ah... No more from me, except to say that predictably, for the majority of the characters, this particular party on the high seas is not going to end well.

Gardening day!

I hate bloody gardening. I wish we had never bought a house with such a large garden, but Jennifer insisted, making some vague comment about "making a really a really nice garden together". Bollocks! I think she last held a gardening implement sometime around 2003 and that was for about 20 minutes, at which time she realised that either,

a) There was something on TV that she wanted to watch, or;
b) There was something she had to connect to work to do

and she ran inside the house to get on with it.

So, the normal sketch is that the garden goes to wrack and ruin until I get sick of looking at it. Then, for a few hours over a few weekends, I dig, cut, trim, weed and generally tidy up the fucking thing. There is never a need to cut the grass. We have a very nice man with a lawn mower who comes every two weeks and cuts the lawn for three quid fifty pence. A bargain.

This morning I was out in he garden at 9am. Sometime around 11am Jennifer shouted from the back door that she was going into town to buy a dress for a wedding she was going to be attending in a couple of weeks. I waved goodbye, Jennifer shut the back door and left.

11:45am. I had finished everything I wanted to do. I had got a fair bit done. All of the crap had been put into recyclable bags and everything had been swept up. The garden looked sweet. I was very happy. It was very satisfying. (Always is, once I get going, although I will never admit to enjoying gardening to Jennifer.) I went to the back door and tried the handle.

The back door was locked.

Eh?

I tried the back door again.

The back door was locked.

Fucker! Jennifer had locked the back door. I had no key, and even if I had, she had left the key in the lock on the other side. I could see it through the window. I couldn't go out of the back gate, because it was padlocked and the key was in the house. I could have done an action hero thing and climbed over it and got through the iron gate at the front of the corridor, because I know that combination on that lock, but I am not Bruce Willis (despite sharing his baldy good looks) and, anyway, where exactly would I have gone? Neither neighbour was home. I had no money and was practically naked, wearing a grubby T-shirt, shorts and trainers.

Stuck, man.

Over the next three and a half hours!! in the back garden, through sun, wind and rain I cycled through various emotional states. Mild annoyance, anger, fury, rage and then onto a kind of zen like peacefulness and then back to mild annoyance.

I studied the red ants. I studied the spider webs. I sang the whole of the Beatles "Revolver" album. I looked at my reflection in the double glazed back kitchen window and admired the weird 3D effect on the skull on the front of my T-shirt. I had a piss down the drain. (Twice.) I considered having a wank, but didn't. (No hankies in my pocket. Nasty, but might have been interesting to find out if semen kills weeds.) I checked out the ruins of the hedge that the Dad of my neighbour, the sexy Keren, had been systematically removing over the last couple of weeks. (Nice girl Keren. Very pleasant. A good neighbour. Has never been any trouble to us. Has lips that could suck a golf ball through a garden hose.) I took my top off went the sun came out and put it back on when the sun went back in. I sat down and stood up again. I hugged myself. I gathered saliva in my mouth and found out how far I could spit. (Not very far, as it happens.) I replayed the "Watchmen" trailer in my head a couple of times. I thought of how best to structure this post.

At 15 and 45 minutes past the hour, I stared intently through the kitchen window. Any sign of Jennifer. No.

15:15pm. Jennifer arrived home. I welcomed her.

"You've locked me out, you fucking idiot!"

I will give her this, she did appear to be mortified.

Choice words were expressed by me to her. I ran upstairs. I showered. Jennifer followed me up, still apologizing. I said that I didn't want to talk about it. I dressed and left. I had arranged to see "Donkey Punch" with my Brother and Sister 2 and was now, possibly, going to be late. I had planned to leave the house at 15:10pm.

Jennifer tried to hug me this evening. I declined. I said that I was still fucking angry at the whole locked-out-of-the-house business and at lot of other things. She said that she didn't lock me out of the house on purpose. I said that I agreed with her, but that I felt it was still another indication, one of many, of how little I even cross her mind lately. Work first, second, third and fourth and then, maybe, Jerry.

It is how I feel.

I did see "Donkey Punch" with my Brother and Sister 2. I thought it had it's moments, if being a little uneven. I will write about it tomorrow.

Saturday and I have managed to exhaust myself. Too many late nights and early mornings this week, including today. Too much bad food. Too much bad feeling between Jennifer and myself. She is in slamming doors mode.

I will be going to bed shortly. I want oblivion.

Fancy some jokes? Me too. Fuck political correctness.

**

A blonde goes into a computer shop and says, "I need curtains for my PC".

The assistant says, "But you don't need curtains for a computer!"

The blonde says, "Like duh. I've got Windows!"

**

Three men were waiting at Heaven's Gate.

St. Peter says, "Okay, guys. Pretty much anything goes up here, but whatever you do, never lie, or you will spend the rest of eternity with the ugliest women in the universe."

So they all agree and are admitted in.

The first guy makes it a week before he lies about how rich he was on Earth. Bam! Right at his side appears the ugliest woman he had ever seen.

The second guy makes it another couple weeks before he lies about how smart he is. Bam! At his side appears the second ugliest woman in the universe.

So the first two guys are walking around with their monsters of women when they see their third friend walking with the hottest woman ever conceived by man. The first two guys say in unison, "How did you end with that babe when we get stuck with these nasty women?"

He nudges the babe and says, "Tell them." She says to the first two guys, "I lied."

**

A new Army Captain was assigned to an outfit in a remote post in the Afghanistan desert. During his first inspection of the outfit, he noticed a camel hitched up behind the mess tent. He asked the Sergeant why the camel is kept there.

The nervous sergeant said, "Well sir, as you know, there are 250 men here on the post and no women. And sir, sometimes the men have 'urges'. That's why we have Molly The Camel."

The Captain says, "I can't say that I condone this, but I understand about 'urges', so the camel can stay."

About a month later, the Captain starts having his own 'urges'. Crazy with passion, he asks the Sergeant to bring the camel to his tent. Putting a ladder behind the camel, the Captain stands on the ladder, pulls his underpants down and has wild, insane sex with the camel. When he's done, he asks the Sergeant, "Is that how the men do it?"

"'No. Not really, sir. They usually just ride the camel into town where the girls are."

**

What do you call a deer with no eye?
No eye deer.

What do you call a deer with no eye and no leg.
Still no eye deer.

**

A lonely widow, age 70, decided that it was time to get married again.

She put an ad in the local paper that read:

HUSBAND WANTED
MUST BE IN MY AGE GROUP (70's)
MUST NOT BEAT ME
MUST NOT RUN AROUND ON ME
MUST STILL BE GOOD IN BED!!!!!
ALL APPLICANTS PLEASE APPLY IN PERSON.

On the second day, she heard the doorbell. Much to her dismay, she opened the door to see a grey-haired gentleman sitting in a wheelchair. He had no arms or legs.

The old woman said, "You're not really asking me to consider you, are you? Just look at you...you have no legs!"

The old man smiled, "Therefore, I cannot run around on you!"

She snorted. "You don't have any arms either!"

Again, the old man smiled, "Therefore, I can never beat you!"

She raised an eyebrow and asked intently, "Are you still good in bed???"

The old man leaned back, beamed a big smile and said,"Rang the doorbell didn't I?"

**

What is a Yankee?
The same as a quickie, but a guy can do it alone.

What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover?
The position of the dirt bag.

Why is divorce so expensive?
Because it's worth it.

What do you call a smart blonde?
A golden retriever.

What do lawyers use for birth control?
Their personalities.

What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?
25 lbs.

What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?
45 minutes.

What's the fastest way to a man's heart?
Through his chest with a sharp knife.

Why do men want to marry virgins?
They can't stand criticism.

Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because those men already have boyfriends.

What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the dog is still excited to see you.

What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.

A brunette, a blonde, and a redhead are all in year 9. Who has the biggest boobs?
The blonde, because she's 18.

What's the difference between a porcupine and a police car?
A porcupine has the pricks on the outside.

What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"

Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
Breasts don't have eyes.

What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.

What's the difference between an Australian zoo and an English zoo?
An Australian zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with a recipe.

How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to say the F... Word?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!

What's the difference between a northern USA fairytale and a southern USA fairytale?
A Northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time..." A southern fairytale begins "Y'all ain't gonna believe this shiit..."

Why is there no Disneyland in China?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides

**

Thank you and goodnight.

There is a young lad at work who is getting very excited (and I admit it, so am I) about the release of "The Dark Knight". He took great pains this afternoon to show me that on IMDB's list of the 250 movies of all time, "The Dark Knight" is already at #4, based on the votes of about 4,500 regular voters. (#1, #2 and #3 are "The Godfather", "The Shawshank Redemption" and "The Godfather: Part II". Fair enough. All classics.)

Of course you have to take these lists with a pinch of salt. 4,500 or so voters is nowhere near the 287,000 or so people who voted for "The Godfather" or the 336,000 or so people that voted for "The Shawshank Redemption". Let's see where "The Dark Knight" is when a couple of years have gone by and the mania has died down.

The boy then asked me what film I was really looking forward to.

Ah... That would be this one. The trailer was released today.



I have been waiting for a "Watchmen" movie for 20 odd years. 9 months to go now. Not too long.

I am so excited, I could crush a grape.

This week in tabloid corner, Helen Mirren in a bikini.



In 9 days time Helen Mirren will be 63 years old.

Gosh! (That also happens to be the name of the character that Helen Mirren played in one of my favourite films, "Savage Messiah". You should watch it sometime. It is great.)

I once stood in the foyer of the National Film Theatre with Helen Mirren. She was in one queue waiting to see "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" with hubbie Taylor Hackford, while I was in the other queue with Jennifer waiting to see "A Canterbury Tale". Helen Mirren seemed to be a very small lady, with grey hair and kind of dowdy and old looking. I said as much to Jennifer. Hardly the sex bomb of the 1970's and 1980's.

This was in 2005.

It only occurred to me today that in 2005 Helen Mirren would have been mid shoot on "The Queen", where she was actually playing a very small lady, with grey hair who is kind of dowdy and old looking.

Ahh... That explains it all. Makeup!

I knew it. Helen Mirren. Still a fox.



Growl.

So the question is: Did the girl revert back to the curly perm/curly hair look today?

She sure did.

So, then. Maybe the girl had decided, for the second time, that she didn't like the new hairstyle? Or maybe she just had her hair done for a special occasion and reverted back to normal for another ordinary day?

Who knows? I will never know, because I will probably never speak to her. I cannot afford to get into speaking to girls that I do not know on the bus. I think that this is because I might decide that the grass is greener elsewhere and a giant, irreversible leap into that a new pasture would be preferable to going through life bored with what I have got. My judgement isn't always very good.

I already feel pathetically guilty when I talk to my friend Eleanor (a single mother, who is nice, and who told me that her boyfriend left her when she became pregnant, some years back) and my other friend Maria (an Austrian ex pat, who speaks perfect English, but with a definite Germanic inflection, and seems to love random and weird TV as much as I do). Why guilty? Because I dearly, truly and seriously would like to fuck both of them and that is not on. I am supposed to be making a go of this relationship.

Sadly, the Jennifer/Jerry show is a bit of a mess. I feel that I can do and say nothing without being accused of being awkward. It is tiresome. I am not wrong all of the time and I am not taking the piss all of the time.

So bad.

... And that was my 100th post. Onwards to the next 100.

There is a girl that I sometimes see on the bus. Today she did something for the second time.

I will explain.

The girl is in her mid 30's. She is short and curvy, with blonde hair and huge eyes. Quite nice looking, actually. I have never spoken to this girl. I have never sat next to her, or made any kind of eye contact with her, but I have noticed her. Nothing wrong with that. If you are not foaming at the mouth, I think that it is OK to look.

For as long as I can remember the girl has had a perm. A really curly perm. It looks something like this, if perhaps little bit shorter.



Months and months ago (in fact it might even have been last year) the girl got on the bus and I was surprised to see that she had changed her hairstyle. I cannot find a close enough picture, but imagine this: The girl's hair had been straightened, was gathered with slides high at the back, strands of hair were framing her face and she had a kind of a kiss curl flick at the front.

It's a bad description, but she looked gorgeous. Really nice. She looked nice before, but the hairstyle was such a change from how she normally looked. It brought out something in her features, if that makes any sense.

I nearly spoke to the girl and told her how much I liked the new look but, of course, that would not have been appropriate. We who write blogs are all voyeurs. We watch people and note what they do, how they dress and how they behave, but we can never let them know that we have been watching. Too freaky deaky by half.

The very next day the girl changed her hairstyle back to the normal perm. I was surprised. She had looked nice. What happened?

Why had she changed her mind? Was the change too much, too soon? Had too many people at her place of work commented on her new style and did not like being the centre of attention? Maybe the girl had had the initial change in style because she had a hot date,or a party to attend? Or maybe she just changed her mind, because she didn't like the new style?

Anyway, today she changed (again) to the new hairstyle, and it was as nice as before. I am wondering if the prem will be back tomorrow..

I have said this before. I do not know the girl, but this time I am hoping that this time she keeps the new style. It suits her and it makes her look beautiful.

Change is good.

A new guy joined the Infrastructure Systems Team today. The team leader of that team decided to introduce the new guy to everybody.

When team leader and new guy got to me, I shook new guy's hand and said something like, "Welcome to the crucible of ultimate evil". New guy smiled and the team leader laughed, without any of the laughter reaching his eyes, mind.

Then team leader said, "Don't mind Jerry. He's the joker around here."

The joker around here. Is that what I am? Is that how they see me? I don't really know how to take that. Better than being seen as a miserable, moaning, old git, I suppose.

Or should the word 'joker' be replaced with 'gobshite'? Maybe.

Flashback to 1984.

I was 21 and two years into my first job working as a computer operator. Shift working, but I had no social life as such, and I really loved that job. I worked hard. I pushed myself. One of the shift leaders had left and I had been promoted. I had a couple of younger guys working for me, which was great, but I was never happy with their work. They never worked as hard as me. They never put as much effort in as me. They were never as good as me. They were never as driven as me. I had to show them, all of the time, how to do the fucking job.

Months went by.

One day, the DP Manager took me into his office and sat me down, and this is what he said.

"Jerry, the work you are doing is good, but you need to calm down. Nobody likes working with you because of your attitude. You are way too intense. Way too over the top. Trying to do everything yourself is not the way to go. You need to let your team make their own mistakes and be there to help them when those mistakes happen. That is how people learn. That is what being a manager is all about."

It was at that moment that I learnt my essential problem. I am a big mouth. It has been a constant battle to try to stop myself from being a big mouth.

Back in 1984 I took steps. I tried to become very small and quiet. I tried to take the time to listen to people. I tried to delegate. (Never happy doing that, mind, because in the back of my mind I knew I could do the job better than some people.) Things improved. I started to get invited to things. I made some friends. (None that lasted, mind, but that is me.)

I think maybe I need to become very small and quiet again. To bite my tongue when I feel to need to say something. To stop being a big mouth.

Jennifer has told me many, many times that I am not doing her career any good while we work at the same company, because of my urge to showboat, to spill forth my opinions. She is right. I am sorry about that.

I really should just get another job. A new start.

This afternoon Jennifer and I went to see "Mamma Mia!".



Here's the thing.

There are no vocalists in "Mamma Mia!" anywhere near as good as the ABBA girls, Anni-Frid Lyngstad and Agnetha Fältskog. The plot of "Mamma Mia!" is about as broad and complex as an "American Pie" sequel, with some of the plot contrivances being, frankly, jaw dropping, and most of the acting is at about the level of a decent panto.

However...

"Mamma Mia!" is brilliant. Really brilliant. Such a crowd pleaser. An exuberant, energetic, sparking musical, full of timeless songs and a cast (step forward Meryl Streep) who attack their roles with true gusto. Big, loud, silly and wonderful. As bright and camp as Graham Norton and Dale Winton on a night out. Look in any dictionary under the phrase 'Feelgood Movie' and you will see "Mamma Mia!" writ large. They should prescribe "Mamma Mia!" on the National Health. Fixes all known ills.

"Mamma Mia!" is a fantastic movie. I urge you most strongly to go and see it. Jennifer and I literally skipped out of the cinema. Let me tell you, we were not a pretty sight.

**

Last night the Villa got to the final of the Midlands Masters, where we were beaten by the Wolves 6-2. Just as well it's not real football, isn't it? Ha ha! (Anyway, Wolves cheated. Obviously.)

Still, it was a good evening out. Nice to hang out with my Brother.

Several drinks in the Malt House beforehand. My Nephew manic on diet coke. (I forget sometimes that he is only 12.) Into the NIA. Decent turnout. Better than last year. I got Ian Taylor's autograph and took a photo of my Brother with Dean Saunders. We talked to Dean Saunders for ages. He's a legend.

Hangover this morning. Thank God for cornflakes, bananas and water.

As you do, this morning I found myself at the supermarket newspaper racks, perusing the tabloids for the latest 'news'. The comics are full of stories of Ronnie Wood apparently having being on a two week bender, accompanied by an 18 year old Russian barmaid. Ron's wife Jo has said that Ron and 'Ekaterina' are just friends. Okey dokey. That clears that up, then.

Ho, hum. Nothing to see here. In fact, par for the course, I would have thought, for a rock star of a certain age and generation, prepared to live with the consequences. Disappointing if a Rolling Stone didn't get off with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. My only concern is that Ron doesn't accidentally top himself, so impacting on the mooted Faces reunion.



I used to love the Faces. One of a couple of 70's bands that I will always regret never seeing in their pomp. Beer soaked, British, straightahead, pub rock 'n' roll. However, the crucial question here is, who will replace Ronnie Lane on bass? Bill Wyman filled in during the Faces reunions in 1986 and 1993. Maybe he will do it again? Or maybe Tetsu Yamauchi will be invited back? After all, he did replace Ronnie Lane in 1973. Pino Palladino?

Proper news.

This afternoon: A late lunch with Jennifer.

This evening: Masters Football with my Brother and my Nephew, and maybe a small beverage or two.

I have not done a Me Me Me for a while. Lifted shamelessly from Mr. Planet, who stole it from somebody else.

1. Were you named after anyone? Yes. I was named after my two Granddads. Jerry Cornelius on my Dad's side and Elvis Brunner on my Mom's side.
2. When was the last time you cried? Last Saturday evening when the fate of Donna Noble in "Doctor Who" became apparent. Crying at a TV programme? I embarrass myself.
3. Do you like your handwriting? No. I can barely hold a writing implement. That is one of the reasons why I learnt to touch type. My handwriting is awful. (I learnt to touch type in the 4th year of senior school. 14 years old. In a class with 18 teenage girls and 1 other boy, who I ignored. The teacher a Goddess by the name of Mrs Ingram. 23 years old, large of bust and flowing of hair. It didn't get much better than that.)
4. What is your favourite lunch meat? I don't know.
5. Do you have kids? No.
6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? No. Sometimes I am very hard work. Frankly, I wouldn't bother with me.
7. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes. "Bigmouth Strikes Again".
8. Do you still have your tonsils? Yes.
9. Would you bungee jump? No. Are you fucking mad?
10. What is your favourite cereal? Apple and Cinnamon crunch from Marks & Spencers.
11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Always.
12. Do you think you are strong? "You think that I'm strong. You're wrong. You're wrong." - Robbie Williams.
13. What is your favourite ice cream? I don't have one.
14. What is the first thing you notice about people? Men - do they look dodgy. Women - legs and tits. (Sorry, but true. It is where my head is at the moment.)
15. Red or pink? Pink.
16. What is your least favourite thing about yourself? My inflexibility.
17. Who do you miss the most? My Dad and the Jennifer of 5 or so years ago.
18. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing? Underpants? Slut red. Shoes? Blue trainers with a white trim.
19. What was the last thing you ate? Kebab meat and chips. Magnifico. (Somebody once told me that he never eats kebab meat, because he once saw a food documentary that featured a microscopic close up of a kebab and the kebab was moving...)
20. What are you listening to right now? "Falling" by Nintin Sawhney featuring Aqualung. (I did cheat. I put it on to have something to write.)
21. If you were a crayon, what colour would you be? Purple.
22. Favourite smells? I don't know.
23. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? A customer at work who had a wobble on her Internet connection and got disconnected from the system. I reset her. She was really grateful.
24. Favourite sport to watch? Football.
25. Hair colour? Brown and grey.
26. Eye colour? Green.
27. Do you wear contacts? No.
28. Favourite food? I don't know.
29. Scary movies or happy endings? Both.
30. Last movie you watched? I don't think I have watched any films this week on the television, so the answer to that question would be "Adulthood".
31. What colour shirt are you wearing? Red.
32. Summer or winter? Winter.
33. Hugs or kisses? Both.
34. Favourite dessert? I don't have one.
35. What book are you reading right now? "Endymion" by Dan Simmonds.
36. What is on your mouse pad? The name and logo of an obsolete Internet Service Provider based in Nottingham that Jennifer used to work for.
37. What did you watch on TV last night? Did I watch anything? I am not sure that I did.
38. Favourite sound? I do not have one.
39. Rolling Stones or Beatles? The Fab Four.
40. What is the furthest you've been from home? The U S of A.
41. Do you have a special talent? No.
42. Where were you born? In a hospital in Birmingham, England.

I was talking to a customer today on the telephone. The quality of the line was bad. I didn't catch the lady's name first time, so I asked her for it again.

"Kayleigh", she said.

I said, "Oh, just like the Marillion song?"

There was an audible sigh. Real irritiation in that sigh. The irritation of having to respond again to the same comment/question.

"Yes. Just like the Marillion song."

Sorry, Kayleigh. I didn't mean to upset you. Blame your Mom and Dad. I bet they loved that song as much as they love you.

What's in a name, eh?

There was a moment on Saturday evening, after "Doctor Who" had finished (I know I promised not to mention "Doctor Who" again until Christmas, but it is only in passing), when I realised that every single TV series that I watch regularly had come to the end of it's run.

Nothing to watch! Eeek!

Then I realised that "Dexter" season two was going to start it's run on FX on Sunday evening.

Phew. Close call.

I love "Dexter". Sly, witty, amusing and kind of sexy. It is the best TV series about the trials and tribulations of a blank faced, moral, psychopathic serial killer that I have ever seen.

(Er... It is the only TV series about the trials and tribulations of a blank faced, moral, psychopathic serial killer you have ever seen.)

Oh, do shut up, Jerry.

When one series starts, another one is sure to follow straight behind.

Another TV series started on BBC1 last night. I think that I may well be watching it to the end of it's run. "Bonekickers"

Now, don't get me wrong. "Bonekickers" really is shit, but the thing that makes the difference is that "Bonekickers" is entertaining shit.

"Bonekickers" is an unholy mix of "The Da Vinci Code" and "Time Team", with a soupcon of "Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade" and "C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation" thrown in for good measure. It features lots of familiar and good British TV faces (sexy Julie Graham, Adrian Lester, Michael Maloney) all acting very serious and intense, unless they are in the series as comic relief (Hugh Bonneville). Last night we also had ex-"Eastenders" actor Paul Nicholls guesting as a Christian right psycho with a big sword. (Yes, I do mean a sword. Nothing else. He may well have a big penis. I don't know. Good luck to him if he has.)

"Bonekickers" had a plot that started silly and got sillier, with hints of some underlying conspiracy waiting to be uncovered as the series goes on. Furrowed brow acting, dodgy special effects, but all done at a rollicking pace. Cracking stuff.

Of course it's crap, but crap that makes you happy is good crap. That's what I say.

The social whirl continues.

Firstly, my Brother rang me up to ask if I wanted to go with him and my Nephew to the Midlands leg of the Masters Football tournament, this weekend. Sure. Why not? I don't mind going to the Midlands Masters. I went last year.

Secondly, my Brother asked if I wanted to go to see the remnants of the band Reef, currently trading as Them Is Me, with him at the Bar Academy on 2nd August 2008. Yeah. Great. Reef were a band that my Brother really loved a few years back, but I know as much about them as I know about Yak farming. I suppose before August comes around I can borrow some of their albums?

Nice that my Brother got in touch with me. It is not anything I have written on the blog about (I think), but I was under the impression that my Brother had fallen out with me over my failure to turn up and get rat arsed with him on his birthday. He has been ignoring my emails. He never said thank you for his birthday present. He was never in when I phoned or called at the house. Sister 1 reckoned that he was being an 'ass' and that he would get over it. Looks like he has. Actually, it is more likely that Sister 1 has had a word with him. She is a blunt woman, is my Sister. You would like her or you would hate her. There can be no inbetween.

Thirdly, in an unprecedented development, Jennifer asked me if I wanted to go with her to the cinema to see "Mamma Mia!" on Sunday. I was going to see it anyway, despite the fact that I am not a woman and not gay (joking, guys! - homophobia is not welcome here), so that is a really nice thing to look forward to. A sofa seat at the Electric Cinema has been booked for Sunday afternoon. We plan to drink cocktails, eat nibbles and glory in the genius of ABBA.

Talking of ABBA...

Glen Matlock of the Sex Pistols once claimed that he stole the chord sequence from this song as the basis of "Pretty Vacant". Apparently Sid Vicious was also a huge ABBA fan. Who would have thought it?

"Les Femmes de l'ombre".



1944. An undercover agent working for the Allies, holding vital information about the future D-Day landings, is trapped in a French hospital, behind enemy lines. The agent is potentially only hours away from being discovered by the SS, and so the British Strategic Operations Executive put together a team of French speaking agents rescue him. Except for the commanding officer, the team are all women...

Oh, yes. That sounded like just the ticket. Definitely a bit of a romp. Something along the lines of a 1940's set "Mission: Impossible". Stunts, action sequences, beautiful women with serious weaponry using their womanly wiles to run rings around evil, horny Nazis.

Forget it. "Les Femmes de l'ombre" was not that film. The girls were beautiful, there was some de rigeur European nudity and also plenty of firepower and action, but "Les Femmes de l'ombre" was a much more real, bleak and thoughtful film than I expected. Bloody, nasty and sadistic, not to mention dangerous with some toe curling scenes of torture. Mix in with that meditations on fear, betrayal and ultimate self sacrifice.

Perhaps "Les Femmes de l'ombre" was uneven, but it was also a really interesting take on that old chestnut: The war movie about a team sent behind enemy lines on a vital mission. I doubt that Tarantino will make a more memorable film when and if he finally finishes "Inglorious Bastards".

"Adulthood".



"Adulthood" was the sequel to "Kidulthood". "Kidulthood" was certainly not a subtle movie and neither was "Adulthood".

"Adulthood" was low budget, rough around the edges, harsh, brutal, and totally engrossing. Sometimes the acting of the young cast was variable, but it's best performers - writer/director/lead actor Noel Clarke, Scarlet Alice Johnson (in the role obviously originally intended to be Jamie Winstone's 'Becky' character from "Kidulthood") and Adam Deacon - managed to imbue their roles with a ring of truth.

"Adulthood" got by on relevance (the debate about gang culture and gun crime is constantly in British newspapers at the moment), raw power and energy. In fact "Adulthood" had enough raw power and energy to silence an unruly audience of mobile phone carrying teenage boys, wearing baseball caps and trousers that were too big for them. At least it did in the screening that I attended. Maybe they were shocked at seeing versions of themselves up on the big screen?

I thought that "Adulthood" was as good as "Kidulthood", if not better.

There is so much more to Noel Clarke than being known as a "Doctor Who" companion. You mark my words, he is a name to watch.

So, then. The final episode of this season's "Doctor Who". If you haven't see it, run for the hills. There will be spoilers.

What did I get right?

The regeneration creating two Doctors', both played by David Tennant. The happy ending for Doctor #2 and Rose. The "threefold man" comment by Dalek Caan meaning three Doctors' in the Tardis, if not in the way that I expected.

What did I get wrong?

Ooooh... Practically everything else. Never mind.

I thought "Journey's End" was an exceptional episode and a brilliant finale to the series. True, I thought that the resolution to the regeneration at the beginning was a cop out, and I told Jennifer as such when we were watching it, but the rest of "Journey's End" was pure entertainment.

The nature of the Osterhagen Key. Davros' masterplan and insanity. Dalek Caan's deception. The Doctor shaking with anger when being forced to face up to the carnage and death he brings with him. Indeed "The Destroyer Of Worlds". And finally, and heartbreakingly, the eventual fate of Donna Noble.



I had no baggage associated with Catherine Tate when she joined the series. I knew that she had been very successful in her BBC comedy sketch show, but I had never seen it. No interest in it at all. Lot's of "Doctor Who" fans complained when she was cast for the full season of "Doctor Who" saying that she was not up to it, that she would unbalance the show and bring too much comedy to it. I was not one of them. I thought that she was very good in "The Runaway Bride" Christmas special of 2006 and wanted to see more of that character.

Those fans that complained were wrong. They were dead wrong.

Throughout the series, and especially during the final moments of "Journey's End", Catherine Tate proved what a very fine actress she is. Those final scenes were tragic, incredibly sad and, yes, heartbreaking. A woman who had broken free, grown and became a better person, would be forced to return to how she was when we first came across her: Crass, shallow, loud, empty, trivial.

Donna Noble touched the stars and she saved the universe. She would not remember doing it and she would never be allowed to remember The Doctor.

I tell you, it was a three hankie job. Two for me and one for Jennifer.

I watched the "Journey's End" again this evening, on BBC3. Total class. Magnificent.

All over now. No more "Doctor Who" comments from me until Christmas Day. Phew. I need to lie down.

**

I saw two films this weekend: "Les Femmes de l'ombre", or "Female Agents", and "Adulthood". I will write about those tomorrow.

Is it that time again? I think that it is.

The season finale of "Doctor Who" starts in 4 hours and 50 minutes. (Tired of "Doctor Who"? You are tired of life, mate.)

There will now be spoilers and speculation. You may wish to run away. Let me say that I am not an insider on the show. I know nothing. This week, despite my best intentions, I have perused websites for information on what is going to happen. Those websites also know nothing. The secrecy is apparently total. Nobody knows what is going to happen. I have stopped eating. I have stopped sleeping. I randomly mutter to myself and shout at people in the street. Jennifer has banned me from talking about "Doctor Who" in the house. I am obsessed.

To recap the main cliffhanger of last weeks episode: The Doctor is mortally wounded and is regenerating. What does this mean?

Well the main thing it means is that David Tennant will be leaving the series. Probably this evening.

Well... Could be, but if he is, how come he is in the Christmas special? Lots of photos on the web of him filming the Christmas story.

Actually that is easy to answer. Maybe they are doing a multi Doctor story featuring the old Doctor and the new Doctor? True, Russell T. Davies has said that he has never been a great fan of multi Doctor stories, but only this year we saw a multi Doctor crossover between the old (pre 2005) series and the new series when, as part of this years Children In Need appeal, there was a short story broadcast called "Time Crash" that featured Peter Davison (Doctor #5) and David Tennant. Also, "Time Crash" was written by Steven Moffat who, of course, will be the head honcho on the series from 2010 and has probably already got a say in the way he wants the series to progress.

If David Tennant is leaving the series, who will be replacing him? Easy, take a look at the cast list for the Christmas special, and step forward this man.



David Morrissey has been mentioned a couple of times as a potential Doctor. He has worked with Russell T. Davies (and David Tennant) before on "Blackpool", is already a semi familiar face on British TV, is a good actor and I think would not be a bad choice at all.

Nah, I don't believe it, for one reason and one reason only. I can believe that plot lines can be kept secret, but I think the replacing of the lead actor in "Doctor Who" would be practically impossible to keep secret. Unthinkable, in fact.

No new Doctor then.

Hang on a minute! Tennant is regenerating! There has got to be a new Doctor!

So, how about this: Maybe the new Doctor will be a temporary Doctor, who will only exist for the final episode of this series. Stay with me here. The finale is set in a time pocket - a pocket universe, if you will - out of sync with the normal universe. When good finally vanquishes evil I would imagine that the pocket universe will cease to exist. When that happens, maybe everything that has happened inside that universe will also cease to exist. So, bye bye new Doctor. Tennant returns!

Could be. If that happens, I will put my money on this guy being the temporary Doctor.



Did anybody watch the Graham Norton show on Thursday night? I never watch it normally, but Catherine Tate was on pushing "Doctor Who" and her appearance in some stage play or other. The other guest was James Nesbitt.

Why was James Nesbitt on the show? He had nothing to promote. He does not have a movie, play, TV series or book about to be released. He was just a guest on the show, for no reason whatsoever, sitting next to Catherine Tate. When was the last time you heard of a guest on the Graham Norton show with nothing to promote? Are the BBC playing games with us?

Might be.

Another theory about what might happen in the regeneration, and potential temporary Doctors.

Somebody on a message board pointed out that when Sylvester McCoy appeared in "Doctor Who Confidential", in a recently filmed interview, he looked to be dressed in a very Doctorish manner. There was also a line of dialogue in the last episode where Dalek Caan referred to the "threefold man".

Could something be about to go wrong with the regeneration? Maybe instead of regenerating into a new form The Doctor will degenerate into a previous form, or more than one previous form? Maybe Sylvester McCoy is about to pop up again? (Quick sidebar here. I will defend Sylvester McCoy's portrayal of The Doctor, at the end of the 80's, to the death. I admit that the first series he did was utter pants, but the last two series, showcasing a very dark Doctor, were kind of brilliant and only reduced by the lack of budget. End of sidebar.) Or Peter Davison? Or Paul McGann? Not Christopher Ecclestone. I don't believe Ecclestone would do it, even if he were paid a million pounds.

Might be. Or maybe something else will go wrong with the regeneration and we will end up with two David Tennant's. At the end you could have one go off with Rose back to her universe. A happy ending, except for The Doctor left behind.

Then there is the Donna Noble problem.

Who is she? What is she? We have been told over and over again this season that Donna is special, something new, something out of the ordinary. This was illustrated perfectly by the "Turn Left" episode where a single, small decision leads to her never meeting The Doctor, his subsequent death, the destruction of London, the death of millions, crisis in America and a neo fascist government in the United Kingdom. In fact The Doctor even explained his puzzlement at what happened. He explained that normally in such a case, time would adjust around an individual, the result being only minor changes to a timeline. In her case a full blown, completely different, parallel world sprang up. How could that happen for a normal person?

Well it wouldn't, would it? But maybe it would if you were a Time Lord.

Is Donna Noble a Time Lord, but doesn't know it? Could she have been adjusted by a Chameleon Arch like The Doctor in "Human Nature / The Family Of Blood" and The Master in "Utopia", with her Time Lord DNA rewritten to become human and a new persona wiping her memory and replacing her true identity? In a couple of hours are we going to discover that Donna was adopted by the Noble family as a baby and that Mom or Grandad have in their possession a very special kind of fob watch?

If so, which Time Lord could she be? Off the top of my head I can only name two female Time Lords: The Rani and Romana.

The Rani was a villain, so I think I will discount her. There is a big villain already on board for the finale.

That leaves Romana, companion to the 4th Doctor nearly 30 years ago. Interestingly enough, Romana rose through the ranks of the Time Lords to become President of Gallifrey, a position she was holding at the time of the Final Time War. (Don't believe me? Check it for yourself. It was mentioned in the "Doctor Who" Annual 2006, in an article written by Russell T. Davies.) Romana was the leader of the Time Lords. The most powerful Time Lord.

Is Donna Noble the 3rd regeneration of Romana?

Richard Dawkins was in "Doctor Who" last week playing himself. Guess who Richard Dawkins is married to? Lalla Ward. Can you guess what was Lalla Ward's most famous acting role? You got it.

Romana.

Will Lalla Ward be playing Romana in a flashback sequence set during the Final Time War? Oh, that would be just great?

2 hours and 10 minutes to go.

Of course, Donna Noble might not be a Time Lord. She might be a host for The Master.

Remember at the end of "The Last Of The Time Lords". The Master is dead, his body on a funeral pyre, burnt beyond recognition. A female hand wearing red nail polish takes The Master's ring from the burnt-out pyre. Could that hand have belonged to Donna Noble? Is The Master about to return?

Don't even get me started on the Osterhagen Key...

Time to go.

Save us Doctor!

I am thinking that when "Heroes" returns for a third season, I may not bother to watch it. I know that season two was severely curtailed by the U.S. writers strike, but that was no reason for the finished product to be so dull, smug, humourless, over complicated and, frankly, as boring as shit.

Yes, I think that that has decided it. Do I want to watch a show that is dull, smug, humourless, over complicated and as boring as shit? No, I don't think that I do. I had read the negative reviews coming out of the states and I ignored them. (Then again, season three of "Lost" was also getting pretty negative reviews and, after a slow start, I thoroughly enjoyed that season when I watched it recently.) I regretted staying with "The X-Files" once it became obvious that David Duchovny had lost even a pretence of interest in the show and I don't want to be stuck in front of the TV again watching something that I am not really interested in.

Life is too short, isn't it?

A boy asked his mother the following question: "Mom, why are wedding dresses white?"

The mother looks at her son and replies, "Son, this shows your friends and relatives that your bride is pure."

The son thanks his Mom and goes off to double-check this with his father.

"Dad why are wedding dresses white?"

The father looks at his son in surprise and says, "Son, all household appliances come in white."

I have brand new shoes. I also have a brand new blister on the little toe on my left foot. Bloody painful. I have developed a Gregory House style limp. It suits me.

Jennifer is not sympathetic. She told me that I should have worn the shoes in before I started using them. I told her that I did wear them in. I wore the shoes for at least.... oooh... 2 hours on Sunday night, while I lay on the settee watching "8 1/2 Women". I even walked to the kitchen and back in them.

My own fault then. Of course.

On Sunday afternoon I originally intended to see "Adulthood", Noel Clarke's follow up to "Kidulthood". It did not happen, but only because I got the time wrong and I arrived at the cinema 20 minutes after the film had started.

So, my next choice it was: "The Edge Of Love".



With the shadow of La Knightely looming large, I really wanted "The Edge Of Love" to be another "Atonement" - a big, beautiful looking, poetic wartime romance - but it wasn't. Do not get me wrong, there are many good things in "The Edge Of Love". It just did not touch my heart the way that "Atonement" did.

The acting is uniformly fine. Tabloid darlings Keira Knightley, and Sienna Miller especially, proved that their performances in "Atonement" and "Factory Girl" respectively were no flash in the pan. They were both excellent. Cillian Murphy is also good as Keira Knightley's war traumatised husband and Matthew Rhys got to the heart of the indifferent, drunken, selfish chancer that was Dylan Thomas.

"The Edge Of Love" looks fantastic. Contrast and compare the cinematography of the 'London during the blitz' setting of the first half with the bleakness of the Welsh coastal town of the second half. The first half of the film presents almost a fantasy world: Dreamy and just out of focus. Smoky pubs, soft lighting and shadows. The second half of the film presents a hard reality: Harsh pebble beaches and wide open spaces. Rain, grass, pain and small town mediocrity. In the former romance flourishes amid the cigarette smoke and the alcohol; in the latter romance fractures, and there will be a reckoning for bad behaviour.

(I will say at this juncture that most critics have written that the film loses it's heart when it moves out of London. I disagree. I think the film becomes real and true once it moves to Wales. The second half is my favourite half of the film.)

But sadly, and whisper this very quietly, "The Edge Of Love" is just a little bit too dull. Mood movies, and "The Edge Of Love" is definitely a mood movie, have to walk a very fine line between immersion in atmosphere and the demands of plot to keep the punters interested. Too often "The Edge Of Love" falls into the former. It needed more story.

Not a bad film, just one that could have been a better.