Thursday, 31 March 2016
My absolute favorite though was The Phantom Raspberry Blower Of Olde London Town written with Spike Milligan. A Jack The Ripper like toff holds all of London in a reign of terror by running up to them, flapping his opera cape and making a loud farting noise in their faces causing them to shrivel up in spasms of awkward embarrassment. Deep stuff,eh?
I do remember laughing at every episode right up to the phantom being revealed as this ghostly pale corpse man with red smeared lips and mad eyes and almost wetting myself in shock.
And I was twenty seven year old at the time.
I still get a ghastly shudder when I hear distant farting noises in the night.
R.I.P. little man and thank you for the big laughs.
Saturday, 26 March 2016
Friday, 25 March 2016
Classic Tardis team too. The Doctor and Sarah Jane Smith. My childhood travelling chums. Tom and Elizabeth shared such a special chemistry. Watch their faces when they are in a scene together. Even when that scene does not require them to speak or do anything. Not doin' nuthin' they stand there emitting character. Oh bring it on and more please..
Thursday, 24 March 2016
And let me tell you I would have had no problem with that.
The whole look has an elegant understated functionality about it. A sort of Will Self-ness..
It is probably just a bit of clever photo shop ( I say "just" but it requires a degree of talent) but it had a certain tone. One that would have projected an interesting frisson.
I do miss this interpretation of The Doctor.The sheer joy and respect Matt Smith brought to the role. I remember friends of his in the press saying that he is nothing like The Doctor in real life. That is all in his performance and as such my respect for him rocketed. My brain was already hard wired to accept his new face as The Doctor but who could fail to love that Pre Raphaelite face. The otherworldly charm of a two thousand year old alien. I mean, How does one account for that unmeasurable quantity in a bodies personal make-up?
With no new Who on the horizon for quite some time it is comforting to have such an amazing body of recent work to fall back on.,some brilliant stuff too..
Mind you with the great Titan comics and the always amazing Big Finish productions it is not fair nor even possible to say there is no forthcoming New Who.
There are tons of it...
Thursday, 17 March 2016
"Dont. Dont surrender. You have nothing I want." I said as politely as I could.
Still not sure what he did not want to surrender to me and Sasha. She looked as confused as I did. She is not one one to judge. And he did not elucidate further.
Just took off across the fields as though he had remembered he left something in the oven.
Typical walk in the park.
Saturday, 12 March 2016
Even the Kremlin only has cultural relevance to me because it is the name of Belfast biggest Gay Bar. Not even ironic given that countries inhumane record of human rights violations with regard to Gay Men and Gay Women.
I fully accept the limitations of my Russian cultural references, my quite severe lack of them, is entirely my own fault. Since I am thinly read and completely self regulating with regard to my reading choices who else can I point the finger at and blame? I am attempting to address this and have chosen a genre piece with which to take my first stumbling Soviet steps.
Victor Pelevin has written a sort of very modern Screwtape Letters using vampires as opposed to devils or demons. Actually that is me being lazy again. It is so much more than than that and literally distanced by time space and the gravity of Russia's present situation.
A book steeped in metaphor is probably not the best introduction to a new cultural experience and a genre book at that. It is however a sly witty read and I have learned a thing or two since reading it. A rewarding and entertaining method of learning something new disguised as something old.
Please forget the timorous apologetica of the first paragraph, just trying to down play my own ignorance. This man's work deserves so much more. Victor Pelevin is a respected literary figure and the recipient of many awards including the impressive Russian Little Booker. His pop cultural references bloom within the text like the welcome buds of maybe. He pokes fun and insight at the shared cultural zeitgeist with a post modern wit and understanding of the monstrous deceptions we practice upon ourselves. Through fanged mythical teeth he whispers with conviction "Culture is not your friend."
You ought to listen. It is not too late. we are just about nearing the end of the beginning.
Michelle Paver has proved quite the discovery for myself. I enjoyed her other novel Dark Matter so much.It was a very well written ghost story with totally believable and quite complex characters. this woman understands men so well. the qualities that can make us amazing and the qualities that make us petty and tawdry. She surprises me at times and I feel moved by what lies beneath the skin of her men and sufficiently engaged to really care about them. As a writer she also understands that life rarely signposts an ending and when both these books of hers I read came to their finish I imagined the characters carrying on some where in some other reality. Lost in the mind space of authorship.
There is a lot of old school adventuring between this books covers. A strong sense of discovery and pushing through despite the hardships permeate her work. And always there is a cost. A price to be paid in fear and tears.
I loved this book. Despite the terrors and sadness endured I did not want it to end.
If I could speak directly to this woman I would say this;
Please write more.
Sunday, 6 March 2016
I am the one in the top hat with the scotch tarten lining.
We recently won the Underwater Twister Formation team Championships in the scenic city of Aqualonia. A fierce competition where we just about defeated a team of Sea-Devils who in a major huff( ironically the name of their team leader.) have since retreated to their underwater hibernation bunker to sleep until such a time as we are all dead so that they might try again.
Silurians and Sea-Devils are notoriously huffy and will enter the Long Sleep for the silliest of reasons.
I love my nautical chums.
i call them my Waterbabies.That is like calling them my "homeys" only wetter.
Thursday, 3 March 2016
Jack Sparks is dead to begin with. There is no doubt about that.Old Jack Sparks is as dead as a door nail. Well, no spoiler there, the clue is in the title I suppose. I am surely not giving away any conclusion you may have already reached having picked this book up. Although given the particular untrustworthy nature of the narrator of this tale as possibly one of the most unreliable I have ever read even that assumed truth is questionable.
Jack Sparks is a pop cultural journalist who courts controversy in his professional life and who guzzles copious amounts of drugs in his personal one. This blurs the line between both and creates little but mayhem in a life already rudderless in a black moral sea. Like old Nick Kent or John Constantine or someone equally mercurial. We join him as he is attempting to research the last book he will ever try to write. One that seeks to prove or disprove the existence of paranormal forces in the same world where Facebook,Twitter and Youtube exist. A Demon can barely get a look in these days. There is a sense that the since the otherworldly is only believed if it comes to us in short Paranormal Activity filmic bursts and it is seriously impacting upon the established religions control by fear techniques. A thoroughly modern demon would appear on the Jeremy Kyle show before risking being exorcised from a helpless child. gathering a following of thumbs ups and likes whilst boiling their victims innards green along the way.
Jack Sparks is an ardent practitioner of the manly art of moral self deception and constantly capable of lying his way into his own good books. A right bastard but just grotesquely interesting enough to want to know what depths he is prepared to dive head long into in order to satisfy himself. Yet he is also chasing evil and has a dragon by the tail, in more ways than one.
Really enjoyed this read. It was fast and funny and full of sordid pop cultural observations that had me chuckling.
..like a demon.