FIRST THE HOUR AND NOW THIS?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME BBC????
the crumb that choked the world…it’s rather clever isn’t it? they ignored me. and patronized me. now they’ll dream about me for the rest of their lives.
i’m the worlds worst nightmare. the victim who gets superpowers.
BETTER CALL SAUL MAYBE?
Sling your hook Spider-Man. Lighten up Dark Knight. Avengers? Disassemble. Fact is, there’s a new hero in my life.
This morning I found me a new superhero to admire. His name? Shoreham-On-Sea Train Station News and Snack Kiosk Man.
No, I don’t know his secret identity, but check out what he did for me this morning…
I woke up off kilter. One of those mornings. Loads of silly, pointless little delays that aren’t usually a problem.
For example. my sock drawer is crammed with black socks. It’s like reaching into a gateway into another universe populated by billions of black socks. Now (because this morning was One Of Those Mornings) not only were none of them paired up, but none of them matched.
Having spent five costly minutes trying to find two identical socks to wear, I realised I’d forgotten I’d be wearing boots all day and it wouldn’t matter.
Flash forward past countless more tiny blunders and I’m driving into my train station having spent the entire journey stuck behind a frosty-topped old dear. No, she wasn’t walking in the middle of the road - though she may as well have been - she was “driving” too.
One day – hopefully – I’ll be an old man too. If I get there, now I know that the moment when multitasking between steering, changing gear and climbing up the steering wheel to actually see over it see the road is the exact point I’ll quit driving.
Having parked at the same time as my 07.59 train pulled into to the station, I ran to buy my weekly parking ticket, chased back to the car, popped the ticket on my dashboard – Upside down! Flip it over! – grabbed my laptop bag and chased to the station I heard the beeps of my train door closing for the last time.
For the first time this year, I’d missed my train.
“Quick!” said Shoreham-On-Sea Train Station News and Snack Kiosk Man. “Hurry!”
I looked around.
What the… ?!?
Every morning I bought a latte from the Shoreham-On-Sea Train Station News and Snack Kiosk Man. He’s an incredibly nice, funny and warm chap. We’d exchanged gags, bitch about the weather, praise the weather and chit chat on a daily basis. I liked him a lot and I liked to think he liked me.
Shoreham-On-Sea Train Station News and Snack Kiosk Man must have spotted my predicament from afar, abandoned his post and ran out to the train to open the doors for me so I’d catch my train.
I saw him press the button again, open the doors and heard him say “you still have time.”
I think it’s one of the most purely, sincerely, selflessly nice things anyone has ever done for me.
If that wasn’t enough to restore my faith in humanity, guess what he did next?
He handed me a latte and said “pay me tomorrow.”
Not only am I now heading to work on time, I’ve got that extra special cuppa coffee to enjoy too.
That warm fuzzy glow I’m experiencing could only otherwise be achieved by watching back-to-back episodes of The Waltons, The Wonder Years and Quantum Leap for 24 hours.
I’m still rather moved and I’m fast approaching the harsh reality of East Croydon.
Thank you Shoreham-On-Sea Train Station News and Snack Kiosk Man. Whoever you are… thank you.
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly is the best prequel ever made, The Phantom Menace is the worst. Prometheus by no means hits the heights of Sergio Leone’s Dollars Trilogy closer-slash-opener… but it’s a damn sight more enjoyable than George Lucas’ almost poignantly disappointing return to Star Wars.
While the characters in Prometheus never seem real in the same way Ash, Dallas, Parker and Ripley feel like actual people in Alien, the production design and use of 3D is state of the art.
Not for a second was I bored by the unfolding events. Baffled? Frequently. Frustrated? Occasionally. Terrified? Post sex C-Sec? Holy hell, they’re only actually fucking going there…
Prometheus entertained me as much as it mystified me.
Yes, there are plot holes to grumble about (e.g. the entire team travelled that far, for that long without even being briefed first?) but there’s also a hell of a lot to love.
I loved the goo. The black, weird-ass, lifeform-warping, liquid ebony, sticky goo.
The Black Goo vs Green Goo theory web theory goes something like this:
Each vase was a complete biological weapon containing two agents. The green liquid contained the alien xenomorph DNA and the black goo was a hostility accelerant. Hence after exposure to the dark stuff, simple worms grew into arm-splitting, yawn-raping monstrosities and Fifield’s post-exposure steroidal attack on the ship’s crew.
As theories go, it certainly works for me… until Ridley Scott reveals more, at least.
Where did the dangerous black goo come from?
Well, I think I have the answer.
Last Saturday I gave my baby boy Gene (pictured below) a bath.
And only too late did I notice the following dark, sinister, alien, sticky filmy stuff attached to his baby bath chair suckers (photo evidence below).
After the black-stuff-tainted-bath, baby Gene then went on a total FUCKING RAMPAGE…
… it was primal, brutal instinctive behaviour.
Post-bath Baby Gene head-butted me in the Adam’s Apple (biblical symbolism?)…
… and then chuckled, reached back and slapped me in both eyes at the same time (another reference to the tale of Saul in the Bible, who was blinded on the road to Damascus?) which really, really hurt.
He was excitable, punched everything he saw the instant he saw it, threw things and was far too awake for bed time…
… much like post-exposure Fifield in Prometheus.
Can this really just be a simple “coincidence”?
Have I finally unlocked the last riddle that Ridley Scott and Damon Lindelof concocted for their science “fiction” masterpiece?
“Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale of moonlight?”
A lot of people are asking me what I really, seriously, actually thought about The Voice UK.
Firstly, I think it should be said that David Levin was an exceptional Twitter host for @BBCTheVoiceUK.
When I read his first few tweets I thought “okay, David has a gift for getting RTs. That’s very commendable.” Then I read his next tweets and I thought “he’s also got a knack for saying what everyone’s thinking. Bravo.” Then it became clear he had excellent comedy chops and I thought to myself… “motherfucker” and called my agent.
(I’m teasing, David. You’re brilliant.)