Posts from 3rd June 2004

Jun 04

I Hate Music advice watch: Kelly Osbourne – “Papa Don’t Preach”

I Hate MusicPost a comment • 810 views

A fine piece of advice there from young Kelly. Frankly even in this day of online ordination it would be hard pushed to find a church that would accept Ozzy Osbourne as congregation let alone a lay preacher. And even if he did obtain a certificate from it is difficult to see who exactly would be able to understand a word he said, his preaching style being heavy on the incoherent mumbling. Even past these frankly insurmountable problems, if he could be understood, it is hard to say if biting the head off a bat counts as a proper holy devotion. So good advice Kelly.

Alternatively if Kelly’s advice is more of the colloquial style, thus asking her Papa not to preach at her about some misdemeanour we must also concur. He would be better of batting her head off.

FT Top 100 Films 89: GOHATTO

Do You See1 comment • 2,026 views

Oh, cherry blossom. If you believe a certain kind of Japanese movie (and trust me, Gohatto is one of that certain kind of Japanese movie) then cherry blossom is in bloom for about 90% of the year. Considering how much said cherry blossom is also expected to fall it really raises a difficult question for the ongoing survival of the cherry tree.

The cherry blossom is one of about five hundred metaphors for sex in Gohatto, the cleanest dirty film ever. Considering that the director Nagisa Oshima made In The Realm Of The Senses one of the more pornographic art* films ever made this is not due to prudery. Perhaps it signals an attempt at further sophistication, layering on metaphor after metaphor until we get the message. And we get the message – homosexuality is taboo in feudal Japan. But we knew that anyway; instead the constant drift to increasingly obscure sexual analogies distracts from any serious point being made. When a oozing bloody head stump can be read as semen-like, the erotic undertow is is getting ridiculous.

Gohatto is all about sex and rebellion. And at the same time not about it at all. Just as the sex is sublimated in many meaningless metaphors, so are the politics of rebellion. There are plenty of schemes and whispered words in back corridors which lead to nothing. Intrigue needs to be intriguing. But there is some nice acting and it looks gorgeous, which is enough for some. Gohatto is arthouse at its most instantly beguilling, all surface no depth. I just think pornography is more honest.

* Attractive people having sex in tasteful situations shown in cinemas with proper doorways on respectable streets.

punk rock musician in well-deserved pokey!!

FT + New York London Paris MunichPost a comment • 341 views

punk rock musician in well-deserved pokey!!

sending clash songlyrics to “wrong person” = clear case of harassment!!!

First Division Play-Off Blues

TMFDPost a comment • 325 views

First Division Play-Off Blues

I think it must have been about 40 seconds into the first game of the season when I realised West Ham wouldn’t get automatic promotion. Preston North End looped a hopeful ball into the area, Dailly fell comically onto his arse and Repka booted it vertically into the sky. We survived for another minute before Preston finally scored. Things didn’t bode well.

I’ve detested this season. When you get relegated certain things happen; your best players move on, the skill level drops, Brian Deane joins. We sat in and around the top six for most of the season and consolidated a play-off spot on the final day. A last minute equaliser made no difference to our plight, we were already guaranteed fourth as other results went our way. But it did make a difference for Crystal Palace, it allowed them to slip into sixth at Wigan’s expense. Little thanks we received for that.

The semi-final play-off was tense, but we edged it past the Tractor Boys. I was determined to go to Cardiff, but not being a season ticket holder, had no chance of a ticket. A bloke from work came good in the end. On the Thursday night I was given an address in Essex and told to ask for ‘Dave’. ‘Dave’ would gladly hand over a ticket if I crossed his palm with silver. Lots of silver. It was a bit cloak and dagger and Essex isn’t the greatest place to walk around with lots of silver in your pocket. Anyway, I worked out the economics and reasoned that if I didn’t eat for a fortnight I would be fine. I went to sleep poor and happy.

It took me six and a half hours to drive to Wales the next day. Most of that was sat on the North Fucking Circular hoping the engine wouldn’t overheat. I had vague directions to a B&B in Chepstow I’d found online. It turned out to be in a village five miles from Chepstow. A sign above the bar said Vegetarians are usually catered for. My phone signal said ‘searching’. I ate three packets of cheese and onion and slept surrounded by chintz.

I woke up early Saturday morning. Excited as an eight year old. I asked about a bus service into Chepstow to get the train to Cardiff. “There aren?t any buses.” Taxi? “They tend to ignore us.” The owner of the hotel dropped me into town in the end, “I?m not racist or anything, but?” he said. It was something to do with 200,000 Romanian gypsies moving to Chepstow. They must get the Daily Mail out here.

I made a pledge with myself. I was going to enjoy today, no matter the result. This was partly based on the fact that Cardiff is a great city, but more to do with the economics of paying excess silver for a ticket. So I did the usual football big day things. I bought beer. Loads of it. I sang anti-Chelsea songs with blokes covered in tattoos. I pissed in a toilet sink.

I had a great day. Apart from the hours between 3 and 4.45pm. That was the crap bit. It wasn’t a good game. The other Premiership teams were probably slapping themselves on the back at the prospect of six easy points. The best team won. Well, the less bollocks one to be truthful.

After that, things went a bit blurry. I took the disappointed train back to Chepstow. Sat in a pub garden by the castle in the last of the light. Got my fingers trapped in the table. Dunno how that happened. Ripped two knuckles pulling them out. Found a taxi to take me back to Chintzy Towers. It was driven by a middle-aged woman who told me all about her son’s holiday in Portugal, “It was lovely, they had proper beer and everyone spoke English.” I said it sounded like England but she didn’t think so, “No, not really.”

I had two packets of salt and vinegar for tea. Some Palace fans came into the bar, singing some shit song. I slipped off to bed and slept the sleep of the dejected.

Biff! Pow! Computer Games Grow Up!

Do You SeePost a comment • 489 views

Biff! Pow! Computer Games Grow Up!

No, wait, that’s every news article about comic books ever. Computer games don’t usually fare much better, despite a higher profile in real life – compare the number GAME bags around town with those from Forbidden Planet/generic comics store. Though this has been skewed in Ireland by the Plastic Bag Tax, which has the result that comics fans are receiving their wares in brown paper bags. Nice.

Anyway, computer games coverage in the news is generally “Videogames cause crazed teen to kill entire town” or a paragraph on page 7 about “Korean man dies after playing games for 50 hours”. So it’s nice to see something like this piece about DDR. The notional focus of the story – bright kid starts scamming the arcade to improve his skills – is second to establishing a feel for how teenagers can form a community around anything substantial: It’s closer to Slackers than Hackers.

See also: Penny Arcade’s Child’s Play, which got some, but not enough, coverage.

Pre-stained black T-shirt, sir?

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 262 views

Pre-stained black T-shirt, sir? This week’s Marketing news is that clothing brand Diesel are teaming up with 2000AD to offer “a science-fiction range of casual clothing”. Imagining what this might actually involve baffles me, but a specially commissioned issue of 2000 will be given away free with purchases – featuring “stories on bizarre clothing and youth cultures”. (Come to think of it, if this means that Mega-City style kneepads will finally be coming to our high streets I’m all for it.)

“You could be up to one size slimmer”

Proven By SciencePost a comment • 350 views

“You could be up to one size slimmer” claims a new ‘body modelling’ product on a poster ad. Hmmm. The key words are “up to” – since dresses, unlike shoes, don’t traffic in half-sizes then the ad is essentially admitting that its maximum benefit is the minimum measurable difference.


The Brown WedgePost a comment • 1,023 views


One of the nuisances with novels is the introduction which gives the plot away. The dictionary definition states an introduction to be “That part of a book or discourse which introduces or leads the way to the main subject.”

It does not say, “Summarise the plot and give away the ending, the reader is only interested in your analysis of the Bronte Sisters and the symbolism of cutlery.”

The new editions of the Penguin Classics have a warning below the introduction, Readers are advised that this introduction makes details of the plot explicit.

Other publishers take note.

Fortnum And Mason

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 488 views

Fortnum And Mason is one of the great and holy places of High Englishness, particularly since Harrods turned vulgar. Its fourth floor tea rooms are as elegant as one would expect, decorated with Constables and Henry Scott Tukes; your ’20 gets you a plump pot of Royal Blend, four rather mayo-blighted sandwich quarters, some fine scones and a couple of cakes (which I ignored). But I fear the English have forgotten how to do grandeur, if indeed we ever knew. The waiter was bubbly – and a Continental! – and the pianist offered us a discreet version of “Against All Odds” by Mr.Phil Collins. My dears, I shall not be returning to Fortnums in a hurry – unless of course work pays for it again, har har.

Love The Pie

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 77 views

Love The Pie