Eats, shoots and leaves
Yes, me and the rest of the world. (Whoops, that's not a proper sentence). I'm probably the only person in Britain who actually asked for it over Xmas and only received one copy: which I read. I had a fantastically old fashioned education when it came to grammar - much closer to the 50s than the 70s. I went to a private school in Liverpool where good handwriting, correct punctuation and lots and lots of clause analysis were as much a part of the education as cross country running in the wet and swimming in the unheated swimming pool. There was little time for such faddish concepts as freedom of expression. This was all driven home by an English teacher called Miss (Nora) Deakin who was as scary as her name sounds. Anyway, reading Lynn Truss bought it all back. I must try to cut back on elipses ('...'). She's convinced me they're a sure sign of the end of civilisation as we know it.
The Filth and the Fury
More nostalgia really. Saw this at a friends house a couple of weeks ago: a version of the Sex Pistols tale that manages to be both energising and depressing at the same time; as well as incredibly evocative of that period. The perfect precursor to watching Mr Lydon on I'm a celebrity.
BBC Four on Progressive RockBrilliant. The other end of the Punk story. If you get a chance to see this again, don't miss it. I was never a Yes, Genesis, Floyd or ELP fan. I just remember smelly lads at school having the logos painted on their ruck sacks. This reminded you just how simultaneously silly and serious the whole thing was. I cannot believe there is a Genesis tribute band called MusicBox that recreates Genesis' early 70s stage shows precisely.
Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman
Saw this at the National on Friday. It was one of those fortunate occassions where you go to the theatre/ cinema knowing nothing about the film/ play you're about to see, and it turns out to be great. With no expectations, your enjoyment is almost doubled. So, now I've read the reviews, I know it's a bit flawed (obviously, I have no real opinions of my own). But it's excellent, shocking fun: sort of Kafka's The Trial meets Shockheaded Peter.
I didn't fall asleep, and I understood what was happening all the way through: which is perhaps the greatest compliment I can give a play.
Igby goes down
OK, so it wasn't Catcher in the Rye. And it wasn't anywhere near as smart as it thought it was. But, there's much worse DVD's out there.
Runaway Jury
Seen on a plane. Spectacularly silly plot, but great fun. Wait till it's on DVD.
ER
Currently the only good thing (regularly) on TV. West Wing's on holiday. Dawson's all over. Smallville seems to be going slightly mad. Saw Six Feet Under last year on E4 . I'm getting slightly tired of Little Britain and Monkey Dust; and Bo' Selecta is now makes me cringe. And, I can only get so excited about the final series of Friends and Sex In the City. Which leaves us back at ER, which I'm slowly starting to love. But, bring back West Wing, please.
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