Bloody Valentines and Hotel Heiresses

A couple of things for this entry, and they couldn't be more different.

First up, I went to see the remake of the eighties slasher movie My Bloody Valentine with my friend Nick last week. I love the original, although it was unfortunately a victim of the censors on its release, with 9 minutes of gore being excised, and which have only just been reinstated into a recent DVD release, so I was curious to see what the current fad for remaking classic movies woudl do with this.

One major factor in the right direction was the fact that this was in 3D, which I have to admit I had reservations with before I saw it as the last 3D movie I saw in theatres was Jaws 3D which was, frankly, rubbish.

I'm happy to report, though, that MBV3D (as I shall refer to it) scored on just about every level. The obvious draw, being the 3D, was awesome. It was a far cry from the 'point a stick at the screen' 3D of years gone by, and instead felt much more immersive, almost as if I was standing just to stage left of the actual shoot itself.

3D aside, it was a welcome return to the feel of the 80s slasher movies - gore, gratuitous nudity, outrageous kills and a left of field ending. Stupid, yes, but immensely enjoyable. If I want Citizen Kane, I'll watch Orsen Welles, but though the classic 80s horror movies are flawed in terms of character and morality, they are - above all - fun, and that's all I want from a kill-by-numbers flick. (Oh, and the fact that it had Supernatural's Jensen Ackles in it didn't hurt, as I think he's a talent to watch and keeps me very entertained in the TV series.)

Secondly, I want to discuss Paris.

Hilton, that is. Yes, socialite and porn star Paris Hilton (who I have to grudgingly admit was OK in the recent House Of Wax remake) has come to London to find her (and try not to gag) British Best Friend (or 'BFF' as they nauseatingly refer to it throughout the programme.)

I can't help but feel sorry for the desperate individuals who are vying to be best friends with Paris, but not for the reasons you might think. Though I really (really) (no, really) want to hate this woman, I find myself thinking that if she was away from the spotlight, the papparazi, and all the fake showbiz crap that she might actually be a decent human being.

I have to point out, that even if I were a single man and had come across her in a bar I wouldn't find her to be my type, and so I can say this with the usual sexual tension omitted, that I kind of think that she might be fun to hang out with.

However, we're never going to find out, so I'll let her humiliate her potential BFFs until she finds her girl (or maybe the single, very gay, man) and happily continue in my very happy life.

Cometh The Donkey

It was a little over a year ago that I wrote about the complicated American system of electing their Presidents, and now, finally, the new PUSA is moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

As we bid farewell to Bush the second, we are standing on the brink of a world of hope, of promise, and of possibilities, and for all the money in Bill Gates' bank account I wouldn't want to be in Barack Obama's shoes.

Never before, and certainly never in my lifetime, has so much anticipation been place on the back of a humble Donkey (the Democratic mascot, you see) - the last time was perhaps when another such beast was ferrying a certain expectant mother to a stable in the Holy Lands.

From where I'm standing, Obama certainly has the right feel abut him, and he seeme to have the vision, the dream, and above all and most vital, the integrity to actually do what he says he will do.

The task ahead of him is a mighty tall order, with security threats and economic meltdown, but even if he doesn't manage to pull off his minor miracle, then the one thing I ask of Mrs Obama's little boy, is that no matter how bad it gets, how desperate the stakes become, and however much he might be tempted to stray to the dark side, as his predecessor did, all I want, and I suspect the American people do to, if for him to tell the truth.

That's it. Simple, no?

By doing this one simple thing, this new inaugurated Donkey will prove that he is no ass.

And Your Point Was....?

As we settle down into this new year (yeah, another one - seems they happen on an almost annual basis these days), we've been having our year end here at work, which has meant some stupidly long hours and a little more stress than usual. (Ironically this is the second blog in two days despite this heavy schedule - how come I can't manage this when I'm less busy?)

What it has made me think about, though, is that ultimately what I do - pushing numbers around - is not going to make a jot of difference once I'm dead and gone.

That's not to say that my life is pointless - far from it - or that I leave no legacy - after all, I've published two books, written a movie soundtrack etc etc - but when compared to some of the people that I know, their professions will leave a lasting effect, whereas mine will make no difference whatsoever.

I have friend who is a nurse - she saves lives, and there are people no doubt walking around today as a result of some of her actions. I have another friend who is a teacher - there are children who have listened to her wise words and who in years to come will remember her as not only a great teacher, but also as their first crush. And I have my beloved .dark. whose profession is to be mother and mentor to her two offspring, and who have grown up into fine specimens of this race we call human.

The point of this missive? Well, nothing really. Just wanted to share.

As you were.....

7 Down, 358 To Go*

First of all, a very Happy New Year to any and all of you who may be reading these little missives that I fire off from time to time. Hard to believe I've been doing this for a year now, but it's interesting to look back at the things that have amused, enraged, and made me think over the last twelve months.

So, here we are a week into 2009 and things are very different than they were when I started these notes from the funny farm.

For a start I'm in Essex, I'm working in London again, and I'm happily settled into the family unit that I have inherited, and I couldn't be happier.

As far as new year resolutions go, well I haven't made any. I have a couple of goals -finish the edit of the book by the end of February, get stuck into my first novel, and develop a couple of screenplays that I've had on hold while I've been doing the last three non-fiction books, set up our new website - but no firm dates or anything, because I know that outside of my 'proper' job I'm rubbish with deadlines.

There are some things, unfortunately, that will be changing this year - the Astoria is being pulled down to make way for the new Tottenham Court Road tube station, and will be sorely missed. I saw some great bands there - Foo Fighters, Ash, Martin Gore, Vain, and most recently Ace Frehley - and consider it one of the finest venues in London (second only to Brixton Academy, which itself is second only in my all time favourite venues to Nottingham Rock City, where I spent much of my teenage years, and which brings me back to the book!)

I am happy, though, and healthy, and looking forward very much to my first full calendar year with the wonderful people that I share my life, and our house, with.

Here's raising a glass of red to each of you, and I hope that you're all as happy and content as I am.

Oh, and here's to another year of these outpourings - a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of things, but they make me happy, and hopeful entertain you for a brief moment every now and again.

See you next time.....


(*days of the year, in case you were wondering)