Wednesday, 29 December 2010
I've supported Liverpool since I was too small to ride rollercoasters. This season has been a ride I wish I was too small for. Despite our recent successes in the last decade I'm not one of those unreasonable fans who expect us to win every trophy going and batter every team 4-0 I'm fairly low maintenance, I like my team to bleed for the shirt, chase every lost cause, to stand up for ourselves and never lose sight of our identity. I can name many games last season where despite losing it was often narrow margins, say an unfortunate deflection or an own goal, but I believed in my team. Our rich history and never say die attitude struck fear into opposition and often if they got a result over us they were grateful they got away with it. Tonight I've just witnessed my team get outplayed by Wolves (bottom of the league with the worst away record in the country) and they never broke a sweat. They worked hard and they were organized, but never really stretched, never really tested. I believe in Liverpool FC, but I don't believe in you. Your average Champ Manager player could figure out how to tactically outmanoeuvre us. Press high deny space to play from back so it goes long and win all the second balls. Pounce on any errors and use ball wisely to fashion yourselves a few chances, if you get a goal no need to sit any deeper just frustrate them as you were. We have no answer, it's not personnel; shy of a few players it's a team many favoured to win the title over a year ago, it's tactics. I have no personal beef with you, your ideas can be effective at midtable teams, not at Liverpool FC, not pass and move 18 league titles 5 European cups Liverpool. We've got a reputation to maintain you know. I'm sure you're a pleasant enough fellow but unlike the media I don't care if you're English or Venezuelan I care about what happens on the pitch. When I buy club merchandise I want the money spent wisely, not on old overpriced players that push perfectly good ones to the bench or out of the club. I don't want to come into work to be taunted for our latest embarrassment. You must be a proud man, as I'm a proud fan. So do what's right, walk away, everyone who isn't a Liverpool fan still loves you, you might get a crack at the England job if you wait around a year or so. Take a break, put your feet up. Saturday kitchen is a good watch give that a go. I'd rather see you happy spending time with your family than rubbing your face in the technical area like a bewildered dementia sufferer. You get paid well, hey treat yourself to a circulation booster, or one of those homedics massage things. You could try it on your face. You can hear the boos, you know Liverpool fans aren't quick to boo their team, we're not fickle or greedy to win. We know when we see a team lost for motivation, with no plan B. The owners might be looking at guys to replace you. Don't let them damage your pride walk out now with your head held high say it's not for you and I reckon you'd get applause if you ever find yourself in the opposition dugout. The press will say you were hard done by, your rep won't suffer too bad and Liverpool FC can get back to what it should be doing. No harm no foul.
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
I got you some flowers
Some petrol station flowers
They smelt like greener diesel
They hadn't seen the sun for hours
I wasn't very organized
So those plants were my surprise
They only cost a small amount
I put them on the joint account
Your petrol station flowers
Those slightly flammable flowers
Please don't put your lighter there
I've got some pollen in my hair
Don't dump them on my office chair
There's a perfectly good vase right there
Petrol station flowers
Dissolving in the shower
The next day your still mad me
I spoiled our anniversary
More so when I burned the tea
Just left with bread and mushy peas
Petrol station flowers
Instead of Alton Towers
She wanted just a nice day out
I said I'm skint, she said 'but how?'
I bought a new trombone online
She shoved it where the sun don't shine
A bum note then she said goodbye
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Not much of a blog but just came out of an Empire webchat with Dolph Lundgren, Swedish man-mountain action star from Rocky IV, The Expendables, Universal Soldier etc. There's a picture of him learning to climb stairs. He's one of those run before you walk types... Seriously though from the various other questions he answered from others he came across as really down-to-earth and self deprecating. Much like Stallone seems. Plus he's proud of his work and his family is his greatest achievement so thats nice isn't it?
I managed two questions and in hindsight they aren't great. But anyway this is it:
philsavory says (13:02:00):
What do you eat for breakfast? standard stuff or a bowlful of nails and gravel?
Dolph Lundgren says to (13:02):
I'll try that bowl maybe one day, otherwise I'll go for the scrambled eggs.
philsavory says (13:31:47):
Is it true you could've been in the running man? Any other near misses for famous roles in the past?
Dolph Lundgren says to (13:33):
I think Running Man I have a faint memory of talking to someone about that before Arnold did it. Let's see. Not really. I know I read Gladiator way before Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe were involved, and I didn't like it much because it didn't have much action and was like a Greek play. I suppose that was stupid - I should have read it twice. It changed, it was a different movie, but still. Otherwise, not really.
So there you have it, he turned down Gladiator.. sort of. Makes you wonder what a Dolph Lundgren version would be like. Other things learned are that he has a degree in chemical engineering (which helps with his diet) and he is a keen drummer.
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Monday, 18 October 2010
Alfie zips up his jeans in celebration of what followed removing them, catching his breath as Lauren fluffed the pillows, ignoring the rest of the mess in the bedroom.
'Can you nip out to the shops I'm starving.' She demands.
'I'll go to the chippy, what do you fancy?'
'Shut up you!' she responds whilst lobbing a once fluffed pillow.
With a peck on the cheek Alfie leaves wallet and all with the aim of being back before Corrie. Breezing through the gate he sees in the distance his new neighbour looming. They had met previously and shared an awkward beer. Alfie had to quickly decide when and if he just makes eye contact, does he stop and chat? What's he going to talk about? As they approach each other Jim the neighbour smiles broadly, whether he likes it or not he's in stop and chat territory now. Pleasantries are exchanged 'we should do something', 'yeah', 'how's Lauren?', 'yeah, I mean good' all the while Alfie's stomach grumbles as if it wants to be in the conversation or is just telling Jim to fuck off. 'Well be seeing you Alfie!' as he extends his right hand they shake firmly and it's all over. Textbook manshake, off to the chippy.
A tenner ejects itself from the cashpoint saying it's goodbyes to all the other notes for a life of wild adventure but probable retail career and after fending off the council kids after a fag, Alfie orders what he always does. Producing the tenner he emphatically places it in the cashier's palm, with an unintended chunk of skin contact. Completely innocuous Alfie heads home and dishes up.
Lauren chews like a cement mixer but stops when she notices Alfie pause. She asks what the matter is and as Alfie sniffs his right hand he looks back at her in horror.
'Jim's shaken hands with your muff!'
'I didn't wash my hands before I left, I shook his hand with my muff hand!'
'Your what hand?'
'My muff hand, from earlier! Oh and Mrs. Singh in the chippy! Got a right big chunk of her hand too!'
Lauren can only giggle, nothing can be done now but the thought of crossing Jim's path again makes her shiver.
Later that night Jim Toll snuggles up to Mrs Toll putting the hot water bottle to one side; as close a sign of romance as he knows. He sweeps her hair to one side in order to kiss her but she recoils in shock.
Alfie and Lauren hear screams, plates crashing and after five minutes a loud knock at the door. Mrs Toll has gone away with no word of when or if she'll return. The muff hand struck the first chance it could innocently crushing Jim's life with it's sweaty passion fragrance. Alfie ashamedly hides the marriage murder weapon in his pocket, apologizing over and over. Once Jim is relieved of angry mob duty and their porch is cleared Alfie reflects on his heinous act, wondering what Mr. Singh will think if he were to smell Mrs. Singh's hand, accuse her of lesbianism, the chip shop burning to the ground under hot fat and kebab grease. Where would he go for a takeaway now?
Lauren being a woman of needs, waits expectantly in her lingerie on the bed the next evening. Beckoning Alfie to her. He draws in closer guiding his right hand to her panties.
'Alfie come on!'
'I think I'll use my left from now on.'
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Nick Clegg is ace and here's why...
1: He was born in Chalfont ST Giles, which is cockney rhyming slang for piles or haemorrahoidadoids.... hemorhoids.... hammerrhaids.....
But don't hold that against him.
2: Whilst in Munich (place not film) he was convicted of burning cacti. It's unknown if there is any anti-cactus leglisation in the Lib Dem manifesto because I couldn't be bothered to read it.
3: He once starred with Helena Bonham Carter in a play about AIDS. Her head has since inflated severely...
4: He won a Financial Times journalism award in 1993 and his prize was a trip to Hungary. Hrmmm.
5: He is an excellent tracer, tracing many famous artworks and selling them on ebay under the seller name 'haroldbishopRIP' after his favourite Neighbours character.
6: He speaks six languages; English, Dutch, French, Spanish, German and Na'vi. Ok five languages.
7: An anagram of Nick Clegg is Egg 'n' Click, which was a sitcom he tried to get off the ground about an egg and tv remote who as he puts it 'live togther and get into compromising and amusing situations'.
8: He hosts regular town hall meetings at his constituency and is willing to take questions on any topic. Except cacti. He hates cacti.
9: His favourite song he says is Changes by David Bowie. Which is too obvious to be true, it is in fact Liquid Dreams by O-Town.
10: His favourite film is supposedly a French drama called The Class; again bollocks, it's White Chicks.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
1. This film is clearly made by Americans as the foggy English town of Broadmoor seems to be a stones throw from London yet it's townsfolk display every regional accent (mostly northern) in britain.
2. The cast are very talented but seemed to get duped at the last minute when their director gets changed into the guy who did Jumanji and their lauded script by the guys who wrote Seven and American Beauty gets put through a shredder.
3. No character has any logical response to being afraid, only the need to do something stupid to put them in an even more dangerous position. Like Jordan doing all those jungle challenges.
4. Benicio Del Toro looks more and more disappointed with himself and the film as it goes on, by the end he doesn't seem to give a shit.
5. Anthony Hopkins is so ambitious with his character he doesn't want one accent he wants five, he goes from Hannibal Lecter to Sean Connery within the same sentence at times.
There are more but simply put The Wolfman feels like something that seemed a very good idea at the time but became more and more half arsed. Imagine a man who decides that one Sunday he's going to clean out his garage and all the junk and then after working for a bit he starts to get bored and tired and finds things he doesn't want to throw out even though he doesn't need them and then he realizes time is getting on and there are better things to do so he hastily shoves all the mess into a corner and pretends to himself that he really nailed it and can ignore all the things he intended to do and never did.
The components of The Wolfman seem all great, great cast, writers with big reputations, Danny Elfman, lots of fog and candles, Rick Baker (who does the awesome effects in American Werewolf in London) but at the last minute the original director quit, maybe because his ideas weren't commercial enough or maybe he just lost faith in it. Either way Joe Johnston came in (Jumanji, Honey I Shrunk the Kids and Jurassic Park III) to try and get the job done. He obviously had a tough job at short notice but the film plays out with a series of walking in foggy woods and something makes you jump, to walking down creaky corridors and what's that? Oh it's just the dog and then something else makes you jump again right after. They're cheap cliched scares and there are so many of them you don't really get much sense of story or tragedy in what happens.
Benicio Del Toro is the grieving brother of a dead, er, brother who is sent home at the request of his dead brother's grieving widow Emily Blunt (I should re-do that sentence). He's an actor but she seems to mistake him for Columbo, then he mistakes himself for Columbo and sets about trying to solve the mystery of his brothers death and after about ten minutes of detective work and asking some gypsies gets mullered by a werewolf, then after suspicion from the towns folk and protection from his suspicious and morally indifferent father Anthony Hopkins (who is plain bizarre and not even sure himself of what his character is supposed to be) becomes a werewolf, makes Emily Blunt fall in love with him by being the only guy her age around the place and kills people. An interesting element in a mental asylum never seems to play out as well as it should and there's plenty of gore and things to jump at, but not much in the way of sense or drama.
The Wolfman will appeal to those who like to be scared but not unsettled, there's limited character and despite a great cast nobody really gets a lot to do.
Hugo Weaving as Inspector Abberline is just right, weary with a touch of humour and somebody who is brave for a reason. My favourite moment was of him ordering a pint of bitter in monotone Agent Smith manner. Shows how hard it was to find a highlight.
Anthony Hopkins and the teddy bear's picnic gone wrong end fight. Just stupid and lame.