Films, food & modern art
Why should I care if the Macclesfield Clarion’s film critic, one Torquil No Toole thinks that the Frigit Jones movie sequel (entitled something like ‘Beyond the bounds of plausibility’) is this year’s “must see British comedy”. Why ‘must’ we see it? Is this yet another vain attempt to justify the tax breaks & the millions of pounds of the tax payers money has been poured into once again attempting to resuscitate the British film industry … which is currently floundering on the rocks of financial disaster because it turns out the same old tripe time & time again? Either its a boring finger in the ear’ole old dirge period bloody costume drama or yet another chick flick ‘staring’ that unmitigated nonce, Hugh Grunt, playing himself, only without the hookers which I have confess might add just a little bit of errrrrrr human interest & colour to the proceedings.
Why on earth should we care if some restaurant, imaginatively named ’Absurd’ after the prices on the menu, is a “culinary triumph serving its clientele an imaginative fusion of Laotian & Icelandic cuisine, in a contemporary setting”. To spend more than 10 seconds sitting on any of the ludicrous post modernist furniture will not only invite utter penury but will also ensure six months of visits to the chiropractor, in the futile attempt to get your spine straightened. We care not if the entire kitchen staff are all former Guatemalan yoghurt farmers displaced by your humble correspondent’s latest logging scheme & are all currently appealing deportation orders while receiving copious quantities of Legal Aid.
Do you really think that Mrs FM really needs to go & see some modern art load of crap (literally) exhibition that is being housed in a former embalming fluids repository. The repository has in fact been converted, only after several immense handouts from the National Lottery, because some red-rimmed glasses wearing drop out from a third rate regional theatre company thinks that this constitutes a ‘good cause’.
If I really want to see some fat lady signing, I will hang around outside Shafts nightclub in Pontypridd – & its not called that because it is built on the sight of a former colliery. I do not need to see more public monies poured into some luvvie-central Covent Garden music hall. If these places cannot generate enough ticket sales to remain viable, why should the say people in Northumberland be coerced into subsidising London’s chattering classes.
Even “I’m a celebrity ….. get me out of here” is better. We can all laugh at Bozo, former singer with boy band ‘Fisted’, when he finds out after 3 hours that you cannot buy cocaine with your Amex card in the middle of Papua New Guinea. Watch his little spotty bum fluff covered face crumple when he discovers that head hunting does not have the same connotation on sub-tropical islands as it does in Soho. The programme might be no better than the contents of a slurry pit, but at least it isn’t funded by us bulldogs.
Comments
I think for the Frigit Jones thing I must adapt a review I read for Dildo's latest warbling.
"No one with a penis needs to see this film"
Posted by: Mark | November 30, 2004 11:16 AM