Christmas cheer...

Right, I'm sitting in what appears to be a veritable Santas grotto of wrapping paper, tinsel and gaudy decorations which could mean one of things. Either it's Christmas or I'm trapped in Katie Prices underwear and I'm praying it's the former!

Looking at the date (23rd December) it looks like it is Christmas after all and I can cancel the emergency rescue call!

So, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Hope you get everything your heart desires or, if they aren't available at the moment, some cool stuff instead!

Will try and make sure I get on here lots in the New Year,

Me. xxxx

Thinking thoughty thought thoughts

So far, so intriguing...

In order to rub the detritus of my job firmly in my face, a gentleman called Rowan Joffe has decided to close off Eastbourne Seafront to make a little film called "Brighton Rock". Now, as some may recall this is the name of a movie made in 1947 starring the great Richard Attenborough and William Hartnell which the aforementioned Mr. Joffe has decided to take upon himself to re-write, re-set and re-make it. Which is far from necessary. Even worse is the fact that in order to film an enormous fight scene on the beach, Eastbourne is doubling as Brighton and the sea-front is closed. Thus redirecting all the traffic onto the back roads in front of my bus. It's almost as if life is rubbing it in. It's almost saying "Here is an industry in which you cannot work, even though it would probably bring you happiness. However, in order to remind you of this, the industry you crave employment with will cause traffic chaos to taunt you."

It's not as if "Brighton Rock" needs remaking. The original is incredible. Based on the incredible book by Graham Greene the original screenplay was written by (Sir) Terence Rattigan, a prolific and talented playwright and dramatist between who lived between 1934 and 1977. The screenplay for the new version has written by the aforementioned Mr. Joffe, whose pedigree is limited to the screenplay of "28 Weeks Later", a sequel to the excellent Danny Boyle movie "28 Days Later" that was described by the great Empire magazine as having "..less heart than the original...." Doesn't sound to promising really, does it?

Another film that really doesn't need remaking is Fame. The original is average at best (with three Empire stars) but directed by the great Alan Parker. With classics such as "The Commitments", "Evita" and "Angelas Ashes" under his belt, he could only manage an "average" with the source material for "Fame". What feeble chance would a man who's only ever directed for television (and even then a mere documentary about Britney Spears in Miami and a couple of programmes about Dance) stand? Kevin Tancharoen who?

On the subject of Fame, I'm trying to figure something out. I may need some help:

This is Kevin Smith. He is responsible for such great films as "Clerks" (and "Clerks II"), "Mallrats", "Jersey Girl", "Chasing Amy", "Dogma", "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" and the more recent "Zack and Miri Make a Porno". Having maxed out several credit cards to raise the $50,000 he needed to make his first film, "Clerks"on his own, he was spotted as a talented director at the Sundance Film festival and now makes what is acknowleged as some excellent cult classic films. Married to actress Jennifer Schwalback-Smith, it is easy to see why he is famous.

Stephen Fry. What to say about this genius of a man? Actor, comedian, playwright, author.... the list is virtually endless. Credits include his own comedy show "A Bit of Fry and Laurie" along with the star of "House", Hugh Laurie. A legend in his own right, film star and incredibly entertaining man. The epitome of an Englishman, it is easy to see why he is not only famous, but loved by all.

This is Peter Andre and Katie Price. He had one hit in about 1995 and she used to get her pendulous, fake breasts out for anybody who asked. They got married, split up and have about 40 children. I cannot possibly see why they are famous? They do not and cannot do anything, apart from be exceptionally annoying! Does anybody know why they may be famous?

Answers on a postcard, please. Oh, dear....

;-)

Script...

Ok, as I was saying before this retarded computer messed things up, I'm going to do something unusual.

I'm going to let you into a secret. Later this year, I'm entering a script writing competition. Leastways, I'm hoping to. The thing that is unusual, is that I'm actually going to let rip on here and share some of my ideas for the story, see what you think. Here goes.

The criteria for the script is that it must be about Eastbourne. Either set in Eastbourne, or about Eastbourne. Mine is both.

Provisionally called "If Only" (until I can think of a better title), it is a story of a man called Alfred Latham. On his 81st Birthday, he has a request. All around him he sees change, new faces, new busineses, new buildings. Every familiar he has known is no longer as it was, with the exception of one thing. His beloved wife, Rose, has recently died. His family live hundreds of miles away and never call, and he is desperate for someone familiar to talk to. Someone he has known all his life and knows will listen to him. There is only one familiar left to talk to.
The sea.
Alfred Lathams request is that he is taken to the beach and left alone for a while. As he reminisces about his life, key scenes begin to play out in his mind and on the stage behind him. Meeting his wife, problems at work and a secret that could cause a lot of trouble....

A lot of this is monologue, the audience playing the part of the ocean listening to an old mans' stories. (This is a first - never actually shown anyone anything I've written before. - hope you like!)

Alfred: ... where have "if" and "change" got us? A generation obsessed with chasing the
dreams their soft elders promised them who so readily turn to violence when those
promises aren't fulfilled. And that's to say nothing of said elders. Ridiculous old men
who would rather talk to the English Channel than go to their own birthday party. Alfie
Latham, you silly old bugger. What were you thinking? They might not have understood
you back at the home, nor even cared, but at least you wouldn't be sitting out in the
freezing cold feeling like some of imbecile sitting talking to himself on a deserted beach.
This seemed like a good idea last night.
(Pause)
Not even sure what to say now I'm here.
(Pause)
I suppose I could start by telling you about Rose. My little Rosie. Bless her. Married for
fifty-six years we were. Not a bad achievement is it? Fifty-six years. Seems like only
yesterday I met her, I can remember it so clearly.
And it hurts.
Do you know, I can remember events in my life that I wish I couldn't. Pain. Suffering.
Loss. Death of a loved one. And do you know, not all of those terrible memories
combined could ever be as painful as a fleeting remembrance of joy and happiness. I
wonder why that is?


So yeah. Little snifter for you there. Hope you like it. Oh, and I hardly need tell you that the whole thing is copyrighted to me. So ner, hands off! ;-)

anyway, that's all for now. Talk to you soon, people!

Peace, out.

Script....

Divorce....

I'm getting bored.

I know, I bore easily and have been known to be easily distracted from what I'm... ooo, look. Blackadder's on G.O.L.D. Must watch.....

I get bored of lots of things.
I'm bored of the spacebar not working properly on the new laptop, and having to go back through everything I type inserting spaces.....

I'm bored of telling stupid people thatI don't go to the town centre, that's why it says "SHINEWATER" in large 2 foot high shiney letters on the front of my bus.

I'm bored of working stupid hours for very little money.

But the one thing I'm bored of the most is people thinking they're funny and, upon hearing I'm getting married in just under one months' time, stating "I know a great divorce lawyer...."

As funny as a rusty spike through the gonads.
As funny as a house fire (not in the hands of Pete and Dud, because that is funny).
As funny as Roy Chubby Brown.

Yes, some marriages end in divorce. Ours hopefully wont, because we are 100% committed to each other and will try our upmost to make the marriage work. It's more that just words, more than just a couple of signatures, some "I do"s and a hang-over the following morning.

I like to think we work and, when pushed, can both come up with a more suitable response to someone saying "We're getting married" than the divorce lawyer comment.......

Does anyone else think that, on this album cover, Michael Jackson looks like he's just fallen off the back of the train that he was holding onto? Perhaps would benefit from the addition of a rusty ladder from the back of a red caboos in his hands? Something like a "Hee-hee... Aaoooooooh crap......."

Just a thought....

New, lovely and Damn!

Looks like it worked too hard. Yes, despite being less than one month old the lovely new and shiny laptop has gone kaput...


£900 and it still breaks.

Never mind. Talk more when I get the time!

New lovely and shiny!

One mug of Earl Grey if you please.
No?
Iced cafe latte?
Nada?
Ok, a Coca-Cola?
Zip?
Pepsi?......

Apologies. Having just logged onto the new laptop, opened my e-mail, Facebook, Twitter and this very blog by touching a fingerprint scanner next to the screen, I was just wondering what else it can do! As yet, despite being billed as an all singing all dancing machine by the salesman, it has neither sung nor danced. Although it has bluetoothed, touch-slated and done a hell of a lot of other impressive stuff!

Yes, finally back on line peoples!

You have been warned!

London is a beautiful place, isn't it?



Very photogenic, especially at night. The romance of the South Bank in the evenings - Hungerford Bridge illuminated, the clang of a train running next to you bringing dreamers, commuters and pursuers of wonder to the city. The boats on the Thames, the Hot Dog vendors on every street corner, the over-sized ferris wheel (yet, there is neither enormous dodgem track or oversized Candy-floss van nearby, hence losing it's fairground appeal) - yes, there is nothing like London, especially in a film. Sadly, when I lived in London it was not so appealing as I rented a room in Harringey. The only time that's seen in the media is when children are dying due to lack of attention from social services, or there is another outbreak of small-pox due to lack of hygiene in a takeaway. Can't move for the TV outside broadcast units then. But never mind

Cineworld! 800 screens nationwide in 74 cinemas, 5 of which are in London. From Aberdeen to Witney, there are but a few areas in the country untouched by one of these mighty playhouses. Last year, 45 million people went to their cinemas, earning them pre-tax profits of £284.5 million pounds. They do a deal where you can get a large popcorn and a large diet-coke for about £8.00 and an unlimited film card will set you back £13.50 per month. My nearest Cineworld cinema is in Eastbourne, about a 10 minute drive away, although there are also palaces of dreams in Brighton, Chichester, Crawley and Falkirk.

So, having established that the tourist-y parts of London are beautiful, especially in the movies, and that I have a Cineworld cinema on my doorstep, one would assume that in order to view a film starring such huge names as "Paul Haley" as "Elderly Man", "Amy Younger" as "Girl Number 2 at Wedding", "Emma Thompson" as "Kate Walker" and "Dustin Hoffman" as "Harvey Shine", set in the gorgeous city of London, one would not need to take a 60 mile round trip to the nearest cinema showing it! Yes, Cineworld is so devoted to helping new directors who have done a top quality British film made in Britain and benefitting the British film industry by having one performance per day for one week only in one cinema on the South Coast!

And this isn't the first time. Oh, no. "London to Brighton"? Hard-hitting major indie film about the escape of a young orphan after killing a paedophile? Nothing. Michael Caines stars in "Is Anybody There?", but only for three showings in Sheffield! What? One of the biggest film stars that Britain has ever produced and Cineworld give him three showings in Sheffield? That's like booking Metallica to do a turn down the local!

Anyway, another rant over with. Back to my lunch.

TTFN. Me.

P.S. Did you know an onion in sainsburys costs 15p?

random things

Captains' log, stardate whatever the hell.......

Day 4 of the Blogger project and still no interest.

Hmmm. Interesting.

Anyway... where was I?

Here. Yes. Just thought I'd use this blog for it's intended purpose rather than the deconstruction of song lyrics. None of you are probably wondering what I get up to on a day to day basis, so here we go with today.

Today I had a fight with the boiler. It all turned nasty when it refused to pay its' rent for the small cupboard upstairs that I allow it to live in. It's not a huge amount I charge it, just some hot water when required which, and let's be honest here, is its' main function in life. Not too much to ask one would think, in exchange for my amazing hospitality and a cupboard in a lovely house like this one. But not today. Today it got nasty. After its' adament refusal to provide me with some hot water for a bath, words were spoken. I'm not proud, but after questioning its' parentage things got physical. The police were called and arrested it for affray but couldn't really do much as it had plumbed itself into the gas and water system, thus rendering the threat of being taken down to the station useless. Eventually the whole thing went to court, the boiler didn't even turn up and was convicted in its' absence. The judge slapped an ASBO (anti-social boiler order) on it and it's not allowed within 100 metres of the property any more. Which is problematic to say the least as it's still in the cupboard, not providing hot water when I want it......

Aside from this frivolity, what else happened today? Woke up at 4am with the love of my life going to work. A little early, I hear no-one say, but then it's the only time I've really had to see her over the past couple of days. And even then I don't remember much of it as it was 4am and I was half asleep. Went back to bed, snoozed a little, woke up and discovered that I have received my first comment back at me on Twitter, which was lovely! I'm K_and_silent_m just incase nobody is interested. From the great Kevin Cecil, co-writer of such series as Black Books and Hyperdrive no less, not offering me a job but thanking me for informing him that I think he is a very funny man.

Wasted a few hours on there, watched some Omid Djalili from the planner (from ages back) then went to work. God, what a boring arse life I lead!

Anyway, talk soon. Bed is calling. 5 hours sleep tonight! Wa-hooo!!!

Love as always,

Me. xxx


P.S. Anyone know why Bill Bailey isn't visiting civilisation on this tour? Rather shunning us for the North! Which is a pity, really. Bought a trouser press for him to sign and everything........

A glimpse into my thought process (Warning - contents could be traumatic!)

How many roads must a man walk down
before you call him a man?



How can you answer a question like that without access to a few facts? More information is needed. Does the road need to be a set distance in order for it to be taken into account? For example, if a person (unsure whether he can be called a man yet) walked say 30 paces downs a road, then realised he's forgotten his wallet and turns back does that count? If so, can it count as two roads? What about footpaths? Do they count? Does he have to walk in the road, or does it still count even if he's on the pavement? And if not, is he insured to perform this feat? And if he is not yet a man, what is he called? Boy? What if he's 68 and just happened to have been born with no legs? Is he still a boy or can we count the rolling of his wheelchair? And if we're counting wheelchairs, then can we count bicycles? Ok, how about this......

How many roads, avenues, streets, drives, lanes, crescents, cul-de-sacs, motorways, cycleways, bus lanes, and other adopted or unadopted public and private highways must one travel down before other unspecified persons classifies you as a man?

Hello, by the way.

What do you mean I over-analyse things?

Just a thought.........

Ok....

Wow.

This is rather good. Much like entering a room with no furniture, wall-art and a nice view of the park, this space is mine to fill however I choose.
Excellent.

Bleaaaaraggghhhyyyyyynerrrrgggggggyyyyyyfuuuullllherdersssss!!

Rather roomy really, isn't it?

Marvellous. Literary equivelent of riding-a-mountain-bike-round-the-parquet-floored-room-in-a-new-house-just-to-see-what-it's-like-as-you'll-never-have-room-to-do-it-again over with, I feel some introductions should be in order, along with some fascinating fact about my good (well, sometimes) self. It has to be stressed, I'm endeavouring to avoid the subjects of politics and religion for fear of offending, and the weather for fear of tedium. Big Brother will also not be discussed as it's dull.

Ready to unpack the first box? I think so. It's labelled "Miscelany" and looks as though it's been rolling round in the back of the lorry. Here we go...

Hello. I'm Mike. I'm a 30 year old from Eastbourne who drives a Honda Jazz and has a beard. It's fabulous, black and has a panoramic roof. (The Honda, that is. Not the beard. Although that would be amazing, wouldn't it? "Hi, like the beard? Slide this panel back and.... ta-da! Panoramic roof!" Not even Suralan Sugars' beard has that on it.) I adore films (have over 2000 DVDs) collect video games and consoles (have too many) and am desperately in love with the gorgeous, wonderful, tolerent love of my life. Kirsty. Where would I be without her? Who knows, and I don't want to think about it.

Whilst the British Armys' occupation is listed as "Iraq", mine is rather more mundane. I am a bus driver (I told you) and I would like to take this opportunity to say that I love my job. I would like to, but I'm not going to because that would be a lie so great that the flames from my pants would engulf me in an instant, thus saving on a cremation in later years I suppose but not really helping me now. Yes, I hate my job. I know, I should be grateful I have a job and I am. I just wish it wasn't this one.

I don't want to make this too long for fear of sending you to the land of nod, so thank you for your time and I hope to see you soon.
Nothing seems broken, so I think I'll replace the lid and unpack it properly later when it's not 1am on a Sunday. Where did that mountain bike go?

Love and peanuts,

Mike.

P.S. Did you know that the costume for the Teletubbie "Tinky-Winky" was over 10 feet high? Makes you think, doesn't it?