This is a sight l would like to see personally. The Pink Floyd pig flying over Battersea Power Station again (to promote some Floyd re-releases). Rather sadly, it is not the original pig (Algie) as that was found to be leaking. What a hideous thought that is - poor old Algie.
A long day out today, as we (myself, the FPO and my sister) took my sister's daughter (Hayley) to Norwich, where she is going to be studying at the University of Eat Anglia. Even without any traffic jams, it was still over 4 hours each way, and we were pretty pleased to be back home again afterwards. The FPO drove there and back, which was a blessing, but l had trouble trying to stay awake on the way back, as l was just sitting there. Obviously l was woken every time we arrived at a roundabout, as directions would be required, but it was quite nice dropping off to the sounds from the CD player. It was a bit daunting for Hayley being left there by herself, but she met some of the other students before we left (who looked about 13), and l am sure she will be fine after a short while, as she is used to being pretty self sufficient. She will be a changed person by the time she completes her course, and l suppose l should be saving up, as l said l would pay for her to go to New York if she completed a degree (unless the sweet release of death gets to me first). As she is in the halls of residence for the first year, there is no room to crash out if we fancied a night out down there, so that may have to wait until she is sharing a house in the second and third year. She has been warned.
Finally a film myself and the FPO can both enjoy. She likes her horror/zombie stuff, and l'll let you guess what l might enjoy about the film. Also available to see in 3D! Result!!
More comic madness, just check out the weapon they are using. That must have been a joke by the artists (and l am surprised they got away with it, the little tricksters!). Ah, the Golden age of comics, messing with the minds of kids.
A Spaghetti Western starring Burt Reynolds as Navajo Joe (when Burt was still young). Badly overacted, badly dubbed, crap plot and a crazy soundtrack (by Ennio Morricone). This, l would like to say makes it worth seeing, but whereas the Clint Eastwood spaghetti western films are class, this is rubbish. Joe's wife gets killed, so he seeks revenge on the outlaws that did it, saving a village at the same time. Crap, although l did like the mad banshee wailing on the soundtrack when Joe appeared on the top of hills/mountains (but l wouldn't waste my money on the album). Also, even though Burt was young when he made it (about 30), the hair still looks pretty dodgy. A syrup l reckon.
This film has to be seen to be believed. It is not dissimilar to the King Kong idea, whereas a creature is found, who then falls for the (there's always one!) girl in the expedition. Of course she has to be rescued, and it does not end well for the creature. The creature is also shot at and captured, but also manages to kill a few humans before being seen off. Great stuff, even if it is in no way, shape or form, even mildly scary. So bad it is good, in a crazy kind of way. Originally released in 3D and featuring Whit Bissell as one of the Doctors (who was General Kirk in one of my favourite TV shows, The Time Tunnel). Splendid stuff!
Out and about in Richmond today l saw that the Unicorn is all boarded up and not open for business. What is happening to this great land of ours? This is one of the pubs l usually frequent when l am indulging in the odd tipple in Richmond, and have been doing so on and off for many a year, man and boy. Apparently (so l have been told) there has been a dispute between the manageress and the brewery, so she has told them to stuff their pub. Let's hope it re-opens again soon. What am l going to do with my life otherwise?
I was on a work sleepover again last night, and guess what? Another fucking spider scared the crap out of me. The photo above is taken in the room l was just about to sleep in, on the wall next to the bed. The corner of the picture does not give full justice to the size of the picture or the largeness of the spider. They are both pretty big. Saying that, the spider was big, as l obviously killed the bloody thing, even though l was once again crapping my (by now) heavily stained pants (especially when l only stunned it and knocked it to the floor first in my panicky state). I usually shove the bed away from the wall so there is a decent gap, just in case of any spiders appearing on the wall next to me, or (heaven forbid), actually crawling onto the bed. Last night, that bed was shoved nearly in the centre of the room, well away from having anything against it (apart from the floor and myself). I still did not sleep very well, as l imagined the eight legged bastards coming to get me, as this seems to have turned into a battle between them and me. Trust me, it's not a battle l would want to be involved in, and l would rather they all buggered off somewhere else and left me alone to lead a peaceful life. God l hate them. Before finding this one, l had been having a pleasant evening watching Manchester United beating Leeds 3-0 in The Carling Cup, so l was retiring to bed in high spirits. My, how things can suddenly change (and not for the better). AAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just what you would expect from James Whale. Lots of moody and atmospheric shots, plenty of overacting, and some (rather splendid but) ludicrous stuff, like the little King/Queen etc in the jars. This film is obviously the follow up to Frankenstein (1931) and continues on from where that film ended. Mary Shelly is still weaving her magical tale, in which the creature and Baron Frankenstein have both (of course) survived, and the Baron is persuaded (against his will) by Dr Pretorious to make the creature a mate. Along the way, the creature meets (and is befriended by) the blind hermit (as in the book), but (of course), that also ends in tears. Don't think it is good news when the mate is made either, as once again, the poor old creature is rejected (I know how he feels). It's bad news when even a female bought back to life is not happy to be with you. Once again, the creature dies at the end. But for how long?
Winter's Bone was a strange one. I enjoyed it, but not as much as l was expecting, as l usually like slow moving, realistic, gritty and dark films. That is not to say it is not good, it is. Somehow though, l was disappointed and felt that there was something lacking, what that was, l couldn't put my finger on. The acting was superb, and it certainly put me off going to The Ozarks for a holiday, particularly in their neck of the woods, as it was a bit like Deliverance country, but missing the river (and the great child banjo player - which was faked l hope you know).
These are not getting full write ups as l only lasted about half an hour with each. They really were that bad.
Had fun seeing this again today, as for me, it is the ultimate Robin Hood film. It is the one l remember watching it as a kid, and since then (and for men of a certain age), there has only ever been one Robin, the thigh slapping, fast talking and acrobatic Errol Flynn. Everyone knows the story, but here it is again. King Richard is away on a Crusade, his nasty brother John takes over and taxes punishes the poor, so Robin defends them, while also having the time to have a grudge with Sir Guy of Gisbourne and fall in love with Maid Marian, whenever he has the odd moment or two spare. A classic, although l am a bit unsure about Will Scarlet, l bet he wanted to be in Marion's shoes really. A rip roaring adventure, and there's a fact!
An Irish man was stopped trying to get on a plane from Brazil, as they suspected he had drugs on him. It turned out (via the scan above) that he had swallowed 72 capsules of cocaine. I would not like to see the state of his bottom after they have all found their way to freedom. Free the Irish (or more likely Columbian) 72!
This is from 1906 and the apartments were on Broadway. If more apartments (or flats as they are called in the UK) were built like these (and had doormen, or some kind of decent security), people would be more than happy to live in them.
I was at work overnight again on Saturday night, and this bleeding thing scared the life out of me. I was still trying to get over the last one on Thursday (see here), so my nerves are now shot to pieces. It didn't help when l got home and the FPO told me there had been a big spider in the bath while l was away. Damn this cold weather to buggery if it means all the spiders are coming indoors. I blame God (he made them).
Coming back from work today l was instructed by the FPO to get some cat food etc. I therefore called in at the Colburn Top Shops, where there had just been a downpour. Coming out of the shops, l managed to get a quick photo of some kids jumping in the puddles before l was chased off as a dirty old paedo. The joy of being young and free (and being quick with a photo).
This is the 1965 Ban the Bomb march in London. Who is that dapper young gentleman on the front left, who has managed to get himself alongside the stars of the march? Why, it's only young Mark Feld, later to become the glam rock god that was Marc Bolan. He always had a flair for publicity, and didn't mind attaching himself to movements if it could benefit him. I just wonder what record he had in his bag (probably Bob Dylan).
