Recent activities, chez Cornelius.

Tuesday evening I finally watched "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix". I thought that it was OK. Maybe a bit complicated and slow for children, but much better than "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire". That film bored me to tears.

Jennifer and I watched most of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" together. All the way through it she was tutting and muttering and scowling. This had been changed from the book, that didn't happen to that character, etc. Eventually I ordered her from the room.

I suppose I will be the same once "Watchmen" comes out. There are dark rumours that the ending has been altered.

Sacrilege.

**

Wednesday evening I watched the Germany versus England friendly. Frankly, Germany were lackluster, but England were still great, especially Shaun Wright-Phillips who I thought had an awesome game. It was really nice to see all of the Villa boys in the squad get a kick as well. Big howler by John Terry/Scott Carson, though. Will Scott Carson get another chance to play with the big boys? Maybe, but I cannot see it happen soon, except in exceptional circumstances. Capello seems to be a bit unforgiving. Poor bastard.

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.

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?

"Euro 2008" is in full swing, so let's talk football.

This might be a despicable admission, because a true football fan is supposed to care more about the class, skill and talent of the players who are there than those who are not there, but without the participation of any team from the British Isles, I really couldn't care less who wins "Euro 2008". Is that a bad admission? Is that really too much like being a 'Little Englander'?

OK, I will admit it. I do slightly care who wins "Euro 2008". At work the usual Bi-yearly Football sweep stake has been organised and I drew France, who are not a bad team. Jennifer drew Switzerland, who are shite, and, by the way, lost their opening game a couple of hours ago. The winner of the sweep stake gets 80 quid.

So, should I support France? No. It sticks in my craw. My Grandmother was Italian. I know! I will support Italy with my head and France with my wallet!

The BBC have been trying to raise some enthusiasm for their TV coverage around the phrase "Who Will You Support?", inviting their viewers to pick a foreign team to follow. ITV's adverts, involving a man who loses his girlfriend football in a terrible road accident, and then is saved by "Euro 2008", are also quite funny. I wonder if both channels will regret being contractually obliged to broadcast wall to wall coverage? Surely the ratings will not be that great? Do that many people in the UK, except the foreign nationals residing here with teams in the competition, really care who wins "Euro 2008".

I would have supported any team from the British Isles in "Euro 2008", in this order and for these reasons.

1. England - because I was born in England and my Mom is English.
2. Republic Of Ireland - because my Dad came from the Republic. A place called Galway.
3. Scotland - because the guy who married my Grandmother was Scottish, had red hair, smoked like a chimney, had yellow fingers, drank like a fish, had a red face and was a great step Granddad.
4. Wales - because I once went on a school trip to Wales and ate lamb.
5. Northern Ireland - because... Er... It's across the sea from England!

Ho, hum. Roll on the World Cup 2010 qualifiers.

Bad luck Chelsea. You should have won. (Chelsea are Jennifer's team, but I was allowed to be an honorary supporter this evening as they were playing the great Satan, Manchester United.)

I read today that they (movie producers, that is - not Chelsea football club) are planning to remake "Highlander". I suppose it is a sign of getting old when movies you saw in your twenties are getting remade for an audience that have no interest in the original.

I wonder who will play the Scottish Egyptian?

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.