As a rule, I tend to avoid newspapers. I occasionally watch the news in the background at work, and I keep up to date with worldwide affairs via twitter postings from the major news channels; but when it comes to flicking through the detritus of the British media, I try to stay well away. I don’t care which footballer slept with which other footballer’s wife, nor do I care which reality television ‘celebrity’ is in rehab; crying over their recent breakup with some equally vacuous television personality. However, as you can guess from my demeanour and opinions; the headline shown above did grab my attention today, and I decided to give it a quick glance, to see if it was as ignorant and insulting as I had already assumed it would be.
I was wrong. It was worse.
If you aren’t familiar with it, it’s basically using more words than you need to, to express the same thing, or when one word makes another one redundant. E.g. ‘A free gift’ or ‘a true fact’. So anyway, this word perhaps saved my life. It was about five years ago, and my pyscho ex-girlfriend had […]
Felix: What’s your favourite film?
Ian: Uhh… I’ve got two.
Felix: Well, what are they?
Ian: One’s Top Gun and one’s Armageddon.
Felix: … Those are both… Awful. Why? Armageddon?
Ian: Yeah, it’s kinda funny.
Felix: Funny? What’s funny about Armageddon; there’s not a single joke in that film.
Ian: It’s humour…
Felix: Okay… So, so why Top Gun? That’s pretty homoerotic.
Ian: It’s just… It’s a movie… It’s a movie I watched with my babysitter when I was fifteen and she was twenty… … three.
Felix: How does that impact on the film?
Ian: ‘Cause I remember I went to see it, I was into aeroplanes at the time. So I watched the movie Top Gun.
Felix: Well, why does it matter about the babysitter?
Ian: ‘Cause she were to… Mah… The babysitter were babysitting me when I wanted to watch the movie.
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Sherlock Holmes has been given the Hollywood treatment once again, and like his first outing, this adventure proved to have disastrous consequences for Mr Holmes.
Not the character in the movie, of course… I mean, it had disastrous consequences for the well-loved, British institution devised by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle one hundred and twenty five years ago; it had disastrous consequences for the credibility of one of the most famous fictional characters ever devised, and it had disastrous consequences for the entire reputation of British classic literature.
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FELIX: Do you believe in life on other planets?
IAN: Probably… If I saw a ship, then yes. Little green men on other planets, yes. Esstravesstra.
FELIX: What? I can’t write this down if it doesn’t make any sense.
IAN: Esstralestious…
FELIX: Are you trying to say ‘extraterrestrial’?
IAN: Yes.
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As someone who has worked in the bar trade for a while, there is a specific breed of customer that I have learned to dread. Often misinterpreted as a friendly novelty, I speak of the ‘beloved regular‘, in essence, a person who frequents the bar on an almost daily basis. I do not speak of the voluptuous, mysterious New York bombshell, who sits in a dark corner with a martini and a book, dolling out snide, off the cuff witticisms to dispel the hopes of any would be suitors as we see in so many films. No, I’m talking about the British regular… The overweight, over-the-hill, miserable, lonely alcoholic.
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This is basically a mild disaster story. When I say disaster, I mean a somewhat posh, snobby, first world disaster. Okay… Let’s call it what it is. I’m about to complain about the service at a restaurant. I was quite unsure about writing this, because I’d absolutely hate to come off as some pompous brat who’s upset because his lobster bisque was more warm than hot. Honestly, that isn’t the case; my favourite meals come out of microwaves! I only decided to write this, not to complain, but because I genuinely thought it ended up being quite funny… So bear that in mind as I start whining…
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When it came on the radio three million times before, I apparently wasn’t paying much attention. Today however, my eyes and ears became open to a deeply disturbing subtext in the famous Christmas song ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’. Don’t believe me? You will. Just look at these genuinely upsetting lyrics.
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At the request of my girlfriend, I spent last night at a fancy, black tie ball / gala party thing. The night went well for me, but unfortunately, it wasn’t quite so kind to everyone…
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Okay, so like every other Friday night… I’ve been at work.
Standard shift, working on the bar. Boring, annoying, pointless.
Anyway, after a while, these four guys came over. Continue reading
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