Sunday, February 25, 2007


Go on, have a whiff.

I should have a shower, yes? That was a hell of a game and I’m in a really skanky mess. But it involves movement and I just cannot be arsed. Maybe on Tuesday.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

So much pain

Not from skiing, oh no.

I got back at around 4, tired but well, and then went out to play footie at 7.

Big mistake

I’ve tried deadening the pain with London Pride but no joy.

It’s good to be back. It just hurts.

Friday, February 09, 2007


I'm away for a ski.

If I don't break my legs or get trapped under avalanche, I'll be back in a week.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

No cars

Can I just be the first in the UK to remark how incredibly, naturally quiet it is this morning (alright, maybe not if you live in London. Everywhere else is lovely).

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


I bought some new headphones. The kind you stick right in your ear, like you used to do with Smarties before your mum gave you a good hiding after the third time, fed up of holding your head over a naked flame again until the chocolate ran out.

Anyway, they’re supposed to give unrivaled hi-fidelity stereo sound reproduction straight to the ear-drum, or something. Do they? Do they fuck. I push ‘em in, good and tight, and all I can hear is the crashing sound of oceans of blood pounding away in my head. Everything sounds like it’s being piped up through a barrel of mustard. It’s that bad you’d think The Be Good Tanyas were a bunch of transgendered cab drivers.

I want my money back, only the damn things are now too waxy to return.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Doctor Who and the Holy Grail

I found this via BoingBoing, and it made me laugh. Scenes from Dalek with dialogue from Monty Python and the Holy Grail dubbed over them.

ROSE: They’re all dead because of you!
DALEK: Ah yes, It’z verra nice.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Spy vs Spy

I’m still getting over the rather magnificent season finale of CBC’s Intelligence, another example of why thirteen hours is the optimal length for a television season. Really, I shouldn’t have watched it at all, but there was this geezer in the pub, right, and honest, guv’nor ‘e said it were the real deal. Seriously, I can’t help wondering if all this downloading is going to get me into trouble some day. My ISP is a bit cross, but my ISP isn’t the boss of me*.

After the unbagged fertilizer hit the fan at the end of episode twelve, I went into this finale wondering how in the hell Chris Haddock was going to tie everything up. The answer is - he didn’t! The little tease.

For those not in the know (and that should be very few of you - those in the UK with greater torrenting qualms than me ought to be watching Intelligence on FTN, in which case - uh-oh - SPOILERS), Intelligence is about the alternating fortunes of Mary Spalding (Klea Scott), director of the Vancouver Organised Crimes Unit, and Jimmy Reardon (Ian Tracy), a powerful dope dealer who becomes Mary’s star informant. Both have people working against them from without and within their respective camps, and Intelligence is willing to ask a lot from its viewers, who need to keep close tabs on who’s who, and where their allegiances lie at any given moment. Some characters, like Matt Frewer’s long-time intelligence playa and “Nasty Bastard,” Ted Altman, are playing so many angles they end up grossly contorted by their efforts to keep an eye on them all.

To summarise:

Ted’s been gunning for Mary’s job all season, but his efforts to undermine her indirectly revealed a CIA mole within the highest echelon’s of Canada’s intelligence community, possibly one of many. Jimmy’s had to flee Canada following a threat to expose him, and also because things are starting to go waay south between his organisation and the Disciples, a biker gang. He’s run on down to Seattle with his estranged psycho wife and daughter and is using the opportunity to collect some owed cash from his U.S distributor, unaware that he’s just been ripped off to the tune of fifty million by his banker, money that was earmarked for the purchase of a bank in the Bahamas, the purchase of which part of his endgame to be totally legit in five years time. Sadly, he’s walked straight into a sting orchestrated by loose cannon Ted and a D.E.A agent who may or may not be rogue and involved in shady international arms deals, who intends to shoot Jimmy dead. Ted is very uneasy about his last point, but at this stage he’s pissed on his chips and daren’t complain.

After a last, emotional call to his wife and daughter, Jimmy gets ready to make his last stand - with a useless, decommisioned firearm.

Fade to black.

Pretty basic stuff, huh? And you know, when the show started I thought “this is okay, but a little slow.” I went into it expecting it to be hyperkinetic, like Spooks or 24, but it’s way more deliberate than that, more akin to The Wire. Haddock lets plots grow until they threaten to tear apart from internal stress, doing an amazing job of parcelling out only what we need to know as we need to know it, making us feel like evesdroppers while manipulating context like a true spymaster. We can only watch all the little duckies getting into row, Haddock biding his time until he can pull the trigger, as he did at the end of the penultimate episode.

The bullet won’t hit until next season.

*Actually it is, true life fact fans.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

January in review

The first month of 2007 / 2K7 / 2Bond ended with the triumphant expansion of The Light, It Hurts into a triple columned template. Maybe it’ll stay that way, maybe it won’t. Everything flows.

A brief update on January’s other successes as we lead into February:

• I last smoked on New Year’s Eve.
• I’ve moved house.
• A ski-trip has been arranged.
• I’m at the gym three times a week. If anyone’s interested I’m starting to look pretty good naked. I don’t exercise in the nude.
• My TV license has been renewed. The Pug taxed and MOT’d. There are no outstanding bills.
• Got the blog going again. More posts this month than the last three combined, although admittedly, there's been a lot of old bollocks. I'm hoping it will cohere eventually.
• I’ve started a new script. I can’t currently evaluate myself as a writer, as the only fitting adjective is “lazy.” If I finish this year with my four bottles of champagne, I will be proud to call myself “shite.” By the end of 2008 I will be merely bad, and as 2009 rolls on, I may start showing some promise. We’ll see.
• I’ve swapped my glasses for contact lenses. This is something I do occasionally. It’s always a strange experience to be able to feel one’s own face.

All in all, not a bad month. Lots done, though I still feel like I’ve forgotten something. I think that’s symptomatic of a general absent-mindedness, to be honest. I keep putting my trousers on backwards, and have become paranoid about locking myself out. At least I won’t keep losing my glasses any more, but I will forget to take my contacts out at bedtime.