Mes Amis
Artificial Styling Aids not permitted... Credit where its due, I found this through a link in the comments on Stuart MacBride's blog and its scarily appropriate at the moment with my attempts to regrow the beard. Honestly, I never knew beard growing was regulated - I'd better watch myself!
No wonder we're in credit trouble... Watch the news whenever you like and you'll see reporter after reporter reort on Britain's debt trouble and its no fuckin' wonder... Here's me working three days a week (one of them a Sunday) and I have to pay full council tax... Which means I'm going to have to start my own printing press if I want to do more than eat in a month! 50 fuckin p over the threshold. And even if I was 50p below I'd only get hekp for a few pence... Christ... Oh well, guess I'd better hope that book gets a damn fine contract whenever my lovely, wonderful agent sees fit to send it out. Although, the one thing that came out of all this was I finally met a Dundee city council worker who tried to be helpful. They do exist! But what pisses me off is that Dundee is so damn high in its council tax. I'm paying over twenty quid more than my friend in Perth (who's a solicitor and earns good cash) and his tax ain't exactly peanuts. Its a fuckin' ludicrous system. They may have been making fun of poor Chuck Kennedy for his plans of taxing based on income (look he may have sounded incoherent but the poor bugger had been up the night before because he just had a new baby - or at least his wife had had the baby and he'd just had to stay up, y'know, and do the fatherly thing) but at least it was almost fairer. And I don't mind paying a bit more if I'm fuckin' earning a bit more. Anyway, I'm going to go have a cup of coffee (or maybe just ground up mud) before I get any more angry.
No BSP... No more promoting myself as a writer on this blog (well, not much). Instead, go here where I'll talk about publications, submissions, the pain of redrafting and all the rest of the crap you do when you're trying to make a go of it as a writer. After all this place is about appreciating sprouts, not stroking your own (ahem) ego.
Its your birthday... Before Ms Simpson gets on here and laughs - I spent much of yesterday rolling around the flat like a beached whale and moaning (she knows because she called me and laughed viciously down the phone when she realised what was wrong). Yes, I had a hangover. But it was my birthday and the night before, an old friend had turned up and we'd gone for a few drinks which turned into more drinks and somehow, against my better judgement, we'd ended up in Fat Sam's at which point the night got a little hazy... Let's just say my birthday wasn't too pretty a day... Oh well, at least I got to strut my funky stuff (The nicest description you'll ever hear of a drunk Russel dance).
Anyway, mes amis that's all for now.
Au revoir
Russel
Thursday, June 30
Thursday, June 23
"I finally get you in a prone position and I'm facing the wrong way..."
Mes Amis
Some walk by night... Paramount Comedy's been repeating Moonlighting and, quite frankly, its easy to forget just how damn good the show was, with more excellent jokes per minute that anyone seems capable of at the moment. Of course, it was created by people who didn't really know TV and therefore just went with their gut, meaning there really was nothing else like it and hasn't really been since. Bruce Willis is excellent (but the guy makes even crappy films, like Striking Distance watchable if hardly enjoyable) and even the normally absolutely shite Cybill Shepherd brings a real charm and awareness to proceedings. So now my morning viewing is complete. I mean, this morning's take on Star Wars where Addison duels with mops - the bad guy's is red and his is blue - to the strains of the grand John William's theme was... well, when you write it down it sounds as funny as Patrick Kielty, but really, folks, great stuff...
Too Late.. for me to think about more changes to the manuscript. Its out in the post system. So hopefully they'll like this redraft and I can get down to the next part of this publishing game. Really, I need the money (just ten pence'd help a poor Fifer...)
Its just a comic book movie... Much as I loved Batman Begins (Oh, yeah... still drooling when I think of it) I hate the fact its a 12A. In fact I hate 12A. This is not a movie for kids. Same with the Spiderman film, which I think was too much about issues older kids might have be having for the young kids to give a shit (they just wanna Spidey spin around the roof, they don't want to think about great power and great responsibility or, worse yet, worrying if the pretty girl next door likes you) and Batman was too much about adult themes and thoughts of terror to have kids in there. And yet, lo and behold, two kids who must have been about seven or eight were sat nearby me in the cinema, brought in by their father who clearly thought, "Oh, well, its a comic book film". They were bored rigid during the character building stuff and scared shitless during the action. It was too dark, too adult, too fucking complex for them. And damn straight, too. Quite frankly, let em wait. Fuck the parents who, without seeing a film, say "Oh, its just a comic book movie, little Johnny'll love it." It makes me damn mad. More than that, it makes me mad to hear them asking questions all the way through the film like, "Whens'e gonnae become Batman? Why's 'e talkin' so much?" and so forth before hearing them whimper like little girls when Scarecrow used his fear gas. I think films shouldn't be graded so much on violent/sexual content as thematics as well and plot complexity. I can see why the violence was enough for it to be a 12, but frankly its still too much for little Johnny to understand and at two and a half hours, they had to keep running down the cinema to go pee which is mightily fuckin' irritating when you're engrossed by Christian Bale's devil voice and The Scarecrows terrifyingly blue eyes.
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.
Au revoir
Russel
Some walk by night... Paramount Comedy's been repeating Moonlighting and, quite frankly, its easy to forget just how damn good the show was, with more excellent jokes per minute that anyone seems capable of at the moment. Of course, it was created by people who didn't really know TV and therefore just went with their gut, meaning there really was nothing else like it and hasn't really been since. Bruce Willis is excellent (but the guy makes even crappy films, like Striking Distance watchable if hardly enjoyable) and even the normally absolutely shite Cybill Shepherd brings a real charm and awareness to proceedings. So now my morning viewing is complete. I mean, this morning's take on Star Wars where Addison duels with mops - the bad guy's is red and his is blue - to the strains of the grand John William's theme was... well, when you write it down it sounds as funny as Patrick Kielty, but really, folks, great stuff...
Too Late.. for me to think about more changes to the manuscript. Its out in the post system. So hopefully they'll like this redraft and I can get down to the next part of this publishing game. Really, I need the money (just ten pence'd help a poor Fifer...)
Its just a comic book movie... Much as I loved Batman Begins (Oh, yeah... still drooling when I think of it) I hate the fact its a 12A. In fact I hate 12A. This is not a movie for kids. Same with the Spiderman film, which I think was too much about issues older kids might have be having for the young kids to give a shit (they just wanna Spidey spin around the roof, they don't want to think about great power and great responsibility or, worse yet, worrying if the pretty girl next door likes you) and Batman was too much about adult themes and thoughts of terror to have kids in there. And yet, lo and behold, two kids who must have been about seven or eight were sat nearby me in the cinema, brought in by their father who clearly thought, "Oh, well, its a comic book film". They were bored rigid during the character building stuff and scared shitless during the action. It was too dark, too adult, too fucking complex for them. And damn straight, too. Quite frankly, let em wait. Fuck the parents who, without seeing a film, say "Oh, its just a comic book movie, little Johnny'll love it." It makes me damn mad. More than that, it makes me mad to hear them asking questions all the way through the film like, "Whens'e gonnae become Batman? Why's 'e talkin' so much?" and so forth before hearing them whimper like little girls when Scarecrow used his fear gas. I think films shouldn't be graded so much on violent/sexual content as thematics as well and plot complexity. I can see why the violence was enough for it to be a 12, but frankly its still too much for little Johnny to understand and at two and a half hours, they had to keep running down the cinema to go pee which is mightily fuckin' irritating when you're engrossed by Christian Bale's devil voice and The Scarecrows terrifyingly blue eyes.
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.
Au revoir
Russel
Wednesday, June 22
"If anybody else calls you the beast, I'll rip their lungs out..."
Mes Amis
Batman Begins... In Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, no matter how kooky Michael Keaton was a Bruce Wayne, there was only one reason to watch: the grandstanding Nicholson as the Joker. For all the gothic design and crazy camera work, 1989's Batman was still not quite right. There was a depth missing from the whole, a reality that the comics always capture but no one, not even Burton, seemed to get right on film. The problem was, I suppose, that the films presumed everyone knew the story of Batman and simply played off the broad strokes of an established mythos, relying on audience familiarity to fill in the blanks.
2005: Christopher Nolan (Memento, Insomnia) reboots the Bat franchise. And he really goes to town. This isn't a comic book movie. This is a fuckin' epic. This is the first time on fim we learn the real origins of the Batman. No more is the origin reduced to a spooky flashback to a mysterious mugger and a deadly bat crashing through a window somewhere. Sure, all of that is present, but now we see Bruce's eastern training, his years of searching for a direction, the dedication he puts into finding some means of revenge on the man who killed his parents. Sure, liberties have been taken with the Joe Chill character (Joe Chill being the mugger who killed Brucie's parents - something Burton ignored so he could give the Joker some personal connection with the big, black bat) and there's a stupid childhood friend introduced so Wayne can have a later love interest with Katie Holmes, but for the first hour of this film there is no bat costume. There is Bruce. Growing, learning, confronting his fear and his weakness, becoming the bat. And its a fascinating study, which pays off in spades later in the film. This film is about grounding itself in the reality of its situation before introducing those spectacular elements that make shit blow up.
This is a comic book movie for real comic books fans. There is no pandering the kids in the audience. This is a comic book picture for adults. This is about pain and fear. This is about loss. This is about the scariest fuckin' Batman committed to celluloid ever.
Because as long as it take for Bruce to become the bat, when he does appear on screen he is a terrifying presence. He is a supernatural force, a terrifying apparition in black. That voice, straight from hell, rumbles through your bones. Never mind the fear gas that makes him into a monster, he'd scare you shitless regardless, because Bale gives his Batman a presence none of the previous fellas (especially George Clooney) had. He captures the essence of fear that Bruce wants this symbol to have. Is he a hero? Yes, he is. But he's not a safe hero. He may not kill, but he'll leave you crying in pain and fear.
But this isn't a one character film. Like I said this is more of an epic than any other comic book movie ever made. Every character is given a solid, real grounding. The Scarecrow, a villain who could be handled so badly, is played with chilling perfection. Jonathan Crane doesn't need that mask to freak you out. Just look at his sharp, blue eyes and tell me this isn't a man gone mad. See the pleasure in his face when he doses up someone with the fear gas.
Ra's Al Ghul, a shadowy presence throughout the film is given the respect such an ancient character deserves. Liam Neeson as Ducard is the perfect twisted mentor. Sergeant Gordon, played with unrestrained glee and pitch-perfect cynicism by Gary fuckin' Oldman is the one good cop stuck in a whole city of bad apples. Even Michael Caine as Alfred injects a gravitas to the proceedings that I never expected. All of these characters are given something to do, an arc that brings them out as flesh and blood characters you actually give a damn about.
And then there's Gotham itself. No longer a fantastic gothic hell or a horrific neon eyesore (thanks, Joel fuckin' Schumacher for that particular rendition of the city) this city feels real. Amazing transport system aside, this could be easily any modern metropolis. An amazing mixture of old school architecture and glass n steel modernism, you feel like this place exists.
But I've gushed long enough. The basic fact is. Go see Batman Begins. Just don't take the fuckin' kids. I don't care if its a 12A, they won't like it. They'll be bored because this is a film that treats its audience seriously. That said, when the shit hits the fan in Gotham, it really hits the fuckin' fan...
Anyway, mes amis, this has been a Batman special (and I know the header's from 1989's Batman, but I loved that line) from your man on Gotham's streets...
Au revoir
Russel
Batman Begins... In Tim Burton's 1989 Batman, no matter how kooky Michael Keaton was a Bruce Wayne, there was only one reason to watch: the grandstanding Nicholson as the Joker. For all the gothic design and crazy camera work, 1989's Batman was still not quite right. There was a depth missing from the whole, a reality that the comics always capture but no one, not even Burton, seemed to get right on film. The problem was, I suppose, that the films presumed everyone knew the story of Batman and simply played off the broad strokes of an established mythos, relying on audience familiarity to fill in the blanks.
2005: Christopher Nolan (Memento, Insomnia) reboots the Bat franchise. And he really goes to town. This isn't a comic book movie. This is a fuckin' epic. This is the first time on fim we learn the real origins of the Batman. No more is the origin reduced to a spooky flashback to a mysterious mugger and a deadly bat crashing through a window somewhere. Sure, all of that is present, but now we see Bruce's eastern training, his years of searching for a direction, the dedication he puts into finding some means of revenge on the man who killed his parents. Sure, liberties have been taken with the Joe Chill character (Joe Chill being the mugger who killed Brucie's parents - something Burton ignored so he could give the Joker some personal connection with the big, black bat) and there's a stupid childhood friend introduced so Wayne can have a later love interest with Katie Holmes, but for the first hour of this film there is no bat costume. There is Bruce. Growing, learning, confronting his fear and his weakness, becoming the bat. And its a fascinating study, which pays off in spades later in the film. This film is about grounding itself in the reality of its situation before introducing those spectacular elements that make shit blow up.
This is a comic book movie for real comic books fans. There is no pandering the kids in the audience. This is a comic book picture for adults. This is about pain and fear. This is about loss. This is about the scariest fuckin' Batman committed to celluloid ever.
Because as long as it take for Bruce to become the bat, when he does appear on screen he is a terrifying presence. He is a supernatural force, a terrifying apparition in black. That voice, straight from hell, rumbles through your bones. Never mind the fear gas that makes him into a monster, he'd scare you shitless regardless, because Bale gives his Batman a presence none of the previous fellas (especially George Clooney) had. He captures the essence of fear that Bruce wants this symbol to have. Is he a hero? Yes, he is. But he's not a safe hero. He may not kill, but he'll leave you crying in pain and fear.
But this isn't a one character film. Like I said this is more of an epic than any other comic book movie ever made. Every character is given a solid, real grounding. The Scarecrow, a villain who could be handled so badly, is played with chilling perfection. Jonathan Crane doesn't need that mask to freak you out. Just look at his sharp, blue eyes and tell me this isn't a man gone mad. See the pleasure in his face when he doses up someone with the fear gas.
Ra's Al Ghul, a shadowy presence throughout the film is given the respect such an ancient character deserves. Liam Neeson as Ducard is the perfect twisted mentor. Sergeant Gordon, played with unrestrained glee and pitch-perfect cynicism by Gary fuckin' Oldman is the one good cop stuck in a whole city of bad apples. Even Michael Caine as Alfred injects a gravitas to the proceedings that I never expected. All of these characters are given something to do, an arc that brings them out as flesh and blood characters you actually give a damn about.
And then there's Gotham itself. No longer a fantastic gothic hell or a horrific neon eyesore (thanks, Joel fuckin' Schumacher for that particular rendition of the city) this city feels real. Amazing transport system aside, this could be easily any modern metropolis. An amazing mixture of old school architecture and glass n steel modernism, you feel like this place exists.
But I've gushed long enough. The basic fact is. Go see Batman Begins. Just don't take the fuckin' kids. I don't care if its a 12A, they won't like it. They'll be bored because this is a film that treats its audience seriously. That said, when the shit hits the fan in Gotham, it really hits the fuckin' fan...
Anyway, mes amis, this has been a Batman special (and I know the header's from 1989's Batman, but I loved that line) from your man on Gotham's streets...
Au revoir
Russel
Tuesday, June 21
yellow!
gutten tag!my happy gang of bloggers.
Another glimpse of your trembling ego below Russ.
These writers, eh? They grab us and say "Here, read my inner thoughts" and then they shiver and blush under our gaze.I feel its like nude models who cover themselves in a towel on the way to the podium-we have seen you naked but the context is different. And what is this split personality they suffer from? Crushing self doubt, and dare I say, self loathing? But still they pop the manuscripts into the post and await rejection. Are they like the people who cut themselves to confirm they still hurt and, ultimately, are still alive? Do they need it? I've been Dr Frasier Crane....
Suck
So I'm sat in work and its deadly dull. Don't get me wrong, my work is interesting, its the office that sucks profusely. I have never met a desk monkey before but lo! one sits near me. He obviously forms his entire life around his work and the thought terrifys me that one day I'll be like him and not know- he thinks he is some kind of rebel but instead all he manages is a kind of corporate rebellion, the sort the boss would approve of. what a tadger.
You must think Im a feckin eejit
So apparently my part time status doesn't 'fufil the requirements of my placement' according to my lecturer and supervisor. So what tantalising Idea have they for me? Well, this is good, I have to work 40 hrs a week to 'fufil criteria' and only be paid for 20hrs work!!! Isn't that a cracker?! SO if I don't agree to these, frankly Illegal ,terms I have to do an extra credit module at uni. They obviously think this wouldn't appeal to me but FUCK THAT. I'll go for the module if it means not having to sit here another 20 hrs a week with No fucking money Bastards
Another glimpse of your trembling ego below Russ.
These writers, eh? They grab us and say "Here, read my inner thoughts" and then they shiver and blush under our gaze.I feel its like nude models who cover themselves in a towel on the way to the podium-we have seen you naked but the context is different. And what is this split personality they suffer from? Crushing self doubt, and dare I say, self loathing? But still they pop the manuscripts into the post and await rejection. Are they like the people who cut themselves to confirm they still hurt and, ultimately, are still alive? Do they need it? I've been Dr Frasier Crane....
Suck
So I'm sat in work and its deadly dull. Don't get me wrong, my work is interesting, its the office that sucks profusely. I have never met a desk monkey before but lo! one sits near me. He obviously forms his entire life around his work and the thought terrifys me that one day I'll be like him and not know- he thinks he is some kind of rebel but instead all he manages is a kind of corporate rebellion, the sort the boss would approve of. what a tadger.
You must think Im a feckin eejit
So apparently my part time status doesn't 'fufil the requirements of my placement' according to my lecturer and supervisor. So what tantalising Idea have they for me? Well, this is good, I have to work 40 hrs a week to 'fufil criteria' and only be paid for 20hrs work!!! Isn't that a cracker?! SO if I don't agree to these, frankly Illegal ,terms I have to do an extra credit module at uni. They obviously think this wouldn't appeal to me but FUCK THAT. I'll go for the module if it means not having to sit here another 20 hrs a week with No fucking money Bastards
Thursday, June 16
Don't be such a drip...
Mes Amis
I know I said mean and moody... but I didn't expect to get soaked! I mean if these photos don't give off a noir/mean streets vibe I don't know what will - - walk out the door, get caught in a downpour and my photographer, laughs as she snaps from the saftey of the corridor. Actually, I just got the pictures back and they look good. Dundee might be a pretty damn noirish city after all (When these photos go public, mes amis, I'll let you know. And let it be noted that the beard is manageable in these photos - I ain't Rasputin yet).
Who are you... Well, mes amis, you might have noticed I've been absolutely engrossed by the new series of Doctor Who. After a really pretty poor pilot (the more I think about it the more I realise how bad it was; poor pacing, poor effects, saved only by Mr Ecclestone and a few cheeky jokes) this has evolved into some one of the most pure entertainment shows on the box. And now its over - at least in this incarnation - I can't help but feel my Saturday teatimes are going to be a bit empty for a while.
ONCE MORE, MES AMIS, IF YOU AIN'T SEEN THE FINAL EP THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING
Chris Eccleston may just have been winging his performance as the Doctor, but thanks in part to the brilliant writers on this show and Mr Ecclestone's insticts for performance, he's turned in a truly convincing portrayal of the mysterious timelord. Alternately dark and goofy, he manages this fantastic balance that makes the doctor both alien and familiar to us as viewers. And in this final episode, his humanity really shone through. When about to pull the plug on the Dalek invasion force, it was great to see a play on Tom Baker's moral quandary in Genesis of the Dalek's as the doctor was forced to choose between the death of the Daleks and humanity or letting them both live and dooming the entire universe to destruction. This was grandstand stuff, overshadowed more by the Doctor's sending Rose back to her old life.
Speaking of Rose, Ms Piper has been a revelation in this series and here, in this final episode, she really tugged on the old (careful now!) heartstrings as she tried to get back to the Doctor and save his life, even though he'd sent her back with strict instruction to stay out of danger. The final revelation with Rose being (REALLY BIG FUCKIN' SPOILER IF YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING AND AIN'T SEEN THIS YET) the Bad Wolf was both thrilling and touching. They could have played this out in a more chilling fashion, but I'm glad that it finally came down to the doctot gently taking the terrible power she'd shouldered on his behalf.
And I should apologise here, folks, for making fun of Cap'n Jack's appalling American accent. Seems the poor bugger *is* American judging by the post-show interview they showed. And yes, he is continuing his transformation into a young John Travolta this episode, right down to the squinty eyes he uses when pissed off. Appalling accent or not he's really beginning to grow on me as a character and that kiss he shared with the Doctor was both amusing and tender at the same time (and bound to get the Daily Mail up in arms, too!). Its just a shame they had to take all the meaning out of his death (although God-Rose's ressurection of Jack does mean that the guy playing him gets to eat lunch for a few more months) as I think this episode could have gone really dark if it wanted to (Like Peter Davison's finale in Caves of Androzani where everybody including the doctor got slaughtered and the only survivor was Peri - and her big breasts!).
Anyway, I've loved this new Who - and yeah, I'm a freakin' geek who doesn't care who knows it - and I really have high hopes for next season. David Tennant's brief appearance at the end was almost reassuring but we should not judge an actor by five seconds of screen time. The true test will come with the Christmas special. But I'm worried; what kinda freakin' title is, "The Christmas Invasion"?
Anyway, mes amis, I'm off to walk the mean streets of Dundee...
Au Revoir
Russel
I know I said mean and moody... but I didn't expect to get soaked! I mean if these photos don't give off a noir/mean streets vibe I don't know what will - - walk out the door, get caught in a downpour and my photographer, laughs as she snaps from the saftey of the corridor. Actually, I just got the pictures back and they look good. Dundee might be a pretty damn noirish city after all (When these photos go public, mes amis, I'll let you know. And let it be noted that the beard is manageable in these photos - I ain't Rasputin yet).
Who are you... Well, mes amis, you might have noticed I've been absolutely engrossed by the new series of Doctor Who. After a really pretty poor pilot (the more I think about it the more I realise how bad it was; poor pacing, poor effects, saved only by Mr Ecclestone and a few cheeky jokes) this has evolved into some one of the most pure entertainment shows on the box. And now its over - at least in this incarnation - I can't help but feel my Saturday teatimes are going to be a bit empty for a while.
ONCE MORE, MES AMIS, IF YOU AIN'T SEEN THE FINAL EP THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING
Chris Eccleston may just have been winging his performance as the Doctor, but thanks in part to the brilliant writers on this show and Mr Ecclestone's insticts for performance, he's turned in a truly convincing portrayal of the mysterious timelord. Alternately dark and goofy, he manages this fantastic balance that makes the doctor both alien and familiar to us as viewers. And in this final episode, his humanity really shone through. When about to pull the plug on the Dalek invasion force, it was great to see a play on Tom Baker's moral quandary in Genesis of the Dalek's as the doctor was forced to choose between the death of the Daleks and humanity or letting them both live and dooming the entire universe to destruction. This was grandstand stuff, overshadowed more by the Doctor's sending Rose back to her old life.
Speaking of Rose, Ms Piper has been a revelation in this series and here, in this final episode, she really tugged on the old (careful now!) heartstrings as she tried to get back to the Doctor and save his life, even though he'd sent her back with strict instruction to stay out of danger. The final revelation with Rose being (REALLY BIG FUCKIN' SPOILER IF YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING AND AIN'T SEEN THIS YET) the Bad Wolf was both thrilling and touching. They could have played this out in a more chilling fashion, but I'm glad that it finally came down to the doctot gently taking the terrible power she'd shouldered on his behalf.
And I should apologise here, folks, for making fun of Cap'n Jack's appalling American accent. Seems the poor bugger *is* American judging by the post-show interview they showed. And yes, he is continuing his transformation into a young John Travolta this episode, right down to the squinty eyes he uses when pissed off. Appalling accent or not he's really beginning to grow on me as a character and that kiss he shared with the Doctor was both amusing and tender at the same time (and bound to get the Daily Mail up in arms, too!). Its just a shame they had to take all the meaning out of his death (although God-Rose's ressurection of Jack does mean that the guy playing him gets to eat lunch for a few more months) as I think this episode could have gone really dark if it wanted to (Like Peter Davison's finale in Caves of Androzani where everybody including the doctor got slaughtered and the only survivor was Peri - and her big breasts!).
Anyway, I've loved this new Who - and yeah, I'm a freakin' geek who doesn't care who knows it - and I really have high hopes for next season. David Tennant's brief appearance at the end was almost reassuring but we should not judge an actor by five seconds of screen time. The true test will come with the Christmas special. But I'm worried; what kinda freakin' title is, "The Christmas Invasion"?
Anyway, mes amis, I'm off to walk the mean streets of Dundee...
Au Revoir
Russel
Wednesday, June 15
The Write Stuff
Mes Amis
Blog off... Twenty four writers, twenty four blogs (or at least websites), one theme... Some very talented people are taking part in the second great blog fiction experiment thing. Since I'm very lazy and can't be bothered doing seventeen links, I'll pass you to Ray who's deeply involved in this thing and has proved, despite his moaning and groaning about how maybe he isn't cut out for ths writing lark (Pull your socks up, Banks! I need to read more fiction like The Big Blind and if people like you start pulling out of the game we're only going to be left with bastards like Grisham and I never want to be reduced to reading that automated legal-fiction machine) that he is one talented writer with his own contribution. And, Ray, they took your rug? I didn't face the man in the black pyjamas for them to take your rug, man! Blogging isn't 'Nam: there are rules!
The Turkey's ready... About freakin' time: I finished the next draft of my novel. And the fucker's changed almost entirely neyond recognition. The meat is the same but so much of the supporting bumph has changed entirely beyond recognition. I hope my sparkling, wonderful agent likes it - - I'm pretty pleased with most of the changes especially because its given a lot of the supporting cast more meat on their bones. Oh well, one more check through for typos and shit sentences and off it goes in the post.
Photo boy... Yes, Ms Beccy, I do have a photographer; she's a friend who's a photography student but that's still one better than Bob the solicitor and his click-n-flash camera. With no offence to ol' Bobby, of course. I'll be using at least one of the new photos the crime scene site and the other will go up when I get my profile on my agency's website. Yeah, mean n moody Russ... that's what we want... (watch this, I'll still look about twelve!)
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now
Au revoir
Russel
Blog off... Twenty four writers, twenty four blogs (or at least websites), one theme... Some very talented people are taking part in the second great blog fiction experiment thing. Since I'm very lazy and can't be bothered doing seventeen links, I'll pass you to Ray who's deeply involved in this thing and has proved, despite his moaning and groaning about how maybe he isn't cut out for ths writing lark (Pull your socks up, Banks! I need to read more fiction like The Big Blind and if people like you start pulling out of the game we're only going to be left with bastards like Grisham and I never want to be reduced to reading that automated legal-fiction machine) that he is one talented writer with his own contribution. And, Ray, they took your rug? I didn't face the man in the black pyjamas for them to take your rug, man! Blogging isn't 'Nam: there are rules!
The Turkey's ready... About freakin' time: I finished the next draft of my novel. And the fucker's changed almost entirely neyond recognition. The meat is the same but so much of the supporting bumph has changed entirely beyond recognition. I hope my sparkling, wonderful agent likes it - - I'm pretty pleased with most of the changes especially because its given a lot of the supporting cast more meat on their bones. Oh well, one more check through for typos and shit sentences and off it goes in the post.
Photo boy... Yes, Ms Beccy, I do have a photographer; she's a friend who's a photography student but that's still one better than Bob the solicitor and his click-n-flash camera. With no offence to ol' Bobby, of course. I'll be using at least one of the new photos the crime scene site and the other will go up when I get my profile on my agency's website. Yeah, mean n moody Russ... that's what we want... (watch this, I'll still look about twelve!)
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now
Au revoir
Russel
Tuesday, June 14
Rock my world!
D'ya know what I love?
Gullible people.
Them and stupid folk are the meat of my day.
I can sense a gullible person from, like , a mile off. They wander up and say 'hi!' and I think ooohhhh! Its almost sexual.
Not to say I don't get the same burst of joy when I realise I'm chatting to someone stupid. Now that is sexual, uggghhhh.
SO good.I love them when they start getting confused at what you are telling them. Someone in my office went and googled whether calories fell out when you ripped open a muffin. She thought calories would be in the little air space.
I could have kissed her.She made my day.
I like the slow creeping look of confusion that spreads across the face.
I just realised it and thought I'd share
Gullible people.
Them and stupid folk are the meat of my day.
I can sense a gullible person from, like , a mile off. They wander up and say 'hi!' and I think ooohhhh! Its almost sexual.
Not to say I don't get the same burst of joy when I realise I'm chatting to someone stupid. Now that is sexual, uggghhhh.
SO good.I love them when they start getting confused at what you are telling them. Someone in my office went and googled whether calories fell out when you ripped open a muffin. She thought calories would be in the little air space.
I could have kissed her.She made my day.
I like the slow creeping look of confusion that spreads across the face.
I just realised it and thought I'd share
Monday, June 13
beards shmeards
So its my first day at work. Very quiet but fun office and an chance for me to learn to do quizzes on powerpoint. (yes, you can!)
I've been given freebies so I shall list and rate them for your perusal
1. bag with company logo: this is fucking great. anything which enables me to carry copious amounts of guff around is ok by me. Its navy blue and the kind you see small children carrying into the swimming-a drawstring rucksack affair. Its fairly spacious and I can fit my head into it along with some post-it notes and the rest of my 'gifts' A+
2. Pencil with company logo: a pencil. Neat. easy to write with. it's black-all black and not made from wood neither. nope it was once a plastic cup according to the speil printed on it. Progressive and slightly rubbery. Looses points for the fact it has the same texture as ass but gains by the fact I can stir my tea with it without loosing tea to absorption. B+
3. A ruler with logo. I don't know why I love rulers so much. As my supervisor handed it to me I remember distinctly thinking "great I can measure things". I think its because I can't actually measure things by estimates. Folk say "yeah its about 3" long" and I'm baffled. Blokes love this lack in my education for some reason. Oh yeah my ruler used to be a printer. Rock! B+
4.An eraser with logo. Its a swirly looking number with primary colours merging. (The key word here is 'primary' 'cos all these things are meant to be prizes for the children). This loses many, many points as it isn't recycled and I cant say 'yeah that used to be condoms' C
SoI need to pack my stuff into my bag for going home and I think I'm gonna look like I've just been on my first day at school. I care not a jot.
BEARDS
I've been given freebies so I shall list and rate them for your perusal
1. bag with company logo: this is fucking great. anything which enables me to carry copious amounts of guff around is ok by me. Its navy blue and the kind you see small children carrying into the swimming-a drawstring rucksack affair. Its fairly spacious and I can fit my head into it along with some post-it notes and the rest of my 'gifts' A+
2. Pencil with company logo: a pencil. Neat. easy to write with. it's black-all black and not made from wood neither. nope it was once a plastic cup according to the speil printed on it. Progressive and slightly rubbery. Looses points for the fact it has the same texture as ass but gains by the fact I can stir my tea with it without loosing tea to absorption. B+
3. A ruler with logo. I don't know why I love rulers so much. As my supervisor handed it to me I remember distinctly thinking "great I can measure things". I think its because I can't actually measure things by estimates. Folk say "yeah its about 3" long" and I'm baffled. Blokes love this lack in my education for some reason. Oh yeah my ruler used to be a printer. Rock! B+
4.An eraser with logo. Its a swirly looking number with primary colours merging. (The key word here is 'primary' 'cos all these things are meant to be prizes for the children). This loses many, many points as it isn't recycled and I cant say 'yeah that used to be condoms' C
SoI need to pack my stuff into my bag for going home and I think I'm gonna look like I've just been on my first day at school. I care not a jot.
BEARDS
I like the regrowth plan russ. Have you considered a smell merkin until you are fully fledged again?
Since when did you have a photographer? Is it Bob? Don't lie to me your ears twitch. I think the main problem is that you try and look moody when in fact you end up looking strained. Try watching mr potatohead doing sitcom that should give you the required grizzled, strained "I've witnessed things no human should" look you crave.
Saturday, June 11
FanTASTic!
Mes Amis
Yes, I'm only a young thing... Cheers, Ray, for letting the cat out the bag - hoping I'd get by without another "My gosh, you're how old?" for a while. But maybe you're right, cos I'm having to get my picture taken for my agency's website and I can't get a decent one. Well, I can, but not one that makes me look like a fuckin' crime writer. Why? Because I look twelve years old (and rather fat). So we hit a new plan. I'm growing back the fuckin' beard and this time its going to be big. Its going to be a full goddamn beard. Already I've started it and the ladies love it (Oh, yes, they do!), which proves that modelling yturself on Al Pacino in Serpico is not neccasarily a bad thing. So I'm meeting my photographer again in the next week and this time we're going for beardy Russ in the Howff graveyard here in Dundee. This time we'll get it. This time I will look mean and moody. This time I might just fool people into thinking I'm a little bit tough.
Bad Wolf... Those two words have appeared in what must be every episode of the new Doctor Who series on the BBC at the moment. And let me say now, if you ain't seen it yet and you are the least bit interested in being surprised by this show do not read on...
YES THERE BE SPOILERS HERE
For the identity of Bad Wolf has been revealed as The Daleks! Yes, the daleks are back and bigger than ever. This episode of Who (the penultimate this series) has been both one of the funniest and one of the most fucking loony yet. Starting with the Doc stuck in the Big Brother house, Rose on the weakest link and Captain Jack Harkness (who seems to be being played by a young John Travolta this episode) on What Not To Wear (where he fondles robot Trinny's metal breasts being the insatiable sex beast he is) there's a bundle of laughs to be had in the first quarter. After all, the idea of television centring around execution is always mildly amusing. In fact, I think I'd love to see the current set of BB housemates fried by a laser. But then things turn serious when the doctor does his "save everyone in the nick of time" routine only to have Rose apparently fried by Ann Robinson (I couldn't tell, was that thing meant to be a robot or was it really Anne?). As everything suddenly turns deadly serious (you can tell: the doctor doesn't say fantastic once after that moment) the episode races forwards breathlessly on to reveal a giant Dalek taskforce in orbit over earth, with the Daleks clearly being the ones who have held back Earth's technological advancment and, for whatever reason, have decided to schedule future programming after the CH4 schedule.
And these daleks look mean. Retro, with those huge lightbulbs instead of the small ones they got later on. And, in a Michael Caine moment, when I saw that army on screen I couldn't help but whisper, "Daleks... faaahsands af em..."
I saw a documentary back when they did the first Dalek episode of this series where one of the designers said, "we made it more bling" and they ain't half kidding. The subtle subtext is: anyone who uses the word "bling" or wears too much damn jewellery cos they think it makes em look hard is evil. Of course, at the end credits we hear a husky voice talk to the doc in next week's preview and one has to wonder whether the mysterious controller of the daleks may just be their maniac creator, Chavros...
Speaking of the end credit's preview... Last week's ep buggered the surprise by showing the daleks in full screen... That kind of took the sheer shock value out of it all...
Anyway, mes amis, enough telly: back to the grindstone
Au Revoir
Russel
Yes, I'm only a young thing... Cheers, Ray, for letting the cat out the bag - hoping I'd get by without another "My gosh, you're how old?" for a while. But maybe you're right, cos I'm having to get my picture taken for my agency's website and I can't get a decent one. Well, I can, but not one that makes me look like a fuckin' crime writer. Why? Because I look twelve years old (and rather fat). So we hit a new plan. I'm growing back the fuckin' beard and this time its going to be big. Its going to be a full goddamn beard. Already I've started it and the ladies love it (Oh, yes, they do!), which proves that modelling yturself on Al Pacino in Serpico is not neccasarily a bad thing. So I'm meeting my photographer again in the next week and this time we're going for beardy Russ in the Howff graveyard here in Dundee. This time we'll get it. This time I will look mean and moody. This time I might just fool people into thinking I'm a little bit tough.
Bad Wolf... Those two words have appeared in what must be every episode of the new Doctor Who series on the BBC at the moment. And let me say now, if you ain't seen it yet and you are the least bit interested in being surprised by this show do not read on...
YES THERE BE SPOILERS HERE
For the identity of Bad Wolf has been revealed as The Daleks! Yes, the daleks are back and bigger than ever. This episode of Who (the penultimate this series) has been both one of the funniest and one of the most fucking loony yet. Starting with the Doc stuck in the Big Brother house, Rose on the weakest link and Captain Jack Harkness (who seems to be being played by a young John Travolta this episode) on What Not To Wear (where he fondles robot Trinny's metal breasts being the insatiable sex beast he is) there's a bundle of laughs to be had in the first quarter. After all, the idea of television centring around execution is always mildly amusing. In fact, I think I'd love to see the current set of BB housemates fried by a laser. But then things turn serious when the doctor does his "save everyone in the nick of time" routine only to have Rose apparently fried by Ann Robinson (I couldn't tell, was that thing meant to be a robot or was it really Anne?). As everything suddenly turns deadly serious (you can tell: the doctor doesn't say fantastic once after that moment) the episode races forwards breathlessly on to reveal a giant Dalek taskforce in orbit over earth, with the Daleks clearly being the ones who have held back Earth's technological advancment and, for whatever reason, have decided to schedule future programming after the CH4 schedule.
And these daleks look mean. Retro, with those huge lightbulbs instead of the small ones they got later on. And, in a Michael Caine moment, when I saw that army on screen I couldn't help but whisper, "Daleks... faaahsands af em..."
I saw a documentary back when they did the first Dalek episode of this series where one of the designers said, "we made it more bling" and they ain't half kidding. The subtle subtext is: anyone who uses the word "bling" or wears too much damn jewellery cos they think it makes em look hard is evil. Of course, at the end credits we hear a husky voice talk to the doc in next week's preview and one has to wonder whether the mysterious controller of the daleks may just be their maniac creator, Chavros...
Speaking of the end credit's preview... Last week's ep buggered the surprise by showing the daleks in full screen... That kind of took the sheer shock value out of it all...
Anyway, mes amis, enough telly: back to the grindstone
Au Revoir
Russel
Friday, June 10
evening sports fans
Well its been a mega long time since i posted anything and once again this is going to be no different
I just gotta do something to annoy Russ before I carry on....
Russ h8s txt spk so I nd 2 get him p*ssed.
Ill hear abt this L8r.
Anyway. Question, can I go through life without singing alabama3 '12 step' song.
Its absolutly frikin superb.
I'm on a borrowed pooter so I'll sign off just now but more soon!!!
I just gotta do something to annoy Russ before I carry on....
Russ h8s txt spk so I nd 2 get him p*ssed.
Ill hear abt this L8r.
Anyway. Question, can I go through life without singing alabama3 '12 step' song.
Its absolutly frikin superb.
I'm on a borrowed pooter so I'll sign off just now but more soon!!!
Thursday, June 9
The Travelling Man
Mes Amis
Packed and ready... Well, its a travelling year for ol' Russ here... Off down to Harrogate this july for Harrogate Crime Festival to mix with people who've made it and meet my little ol' agent, too (we haven't actually met face to face yet - although she does work out of London where I'm stuck in Dundee). Then after that, off to Chicago (The windy city, the windy city is mighty pretty but they ain't got what got... like Neds) for good ol' Bouchercon. I'm all a-twitter, I tells ya. Looking forward at Harrogate to seeing Mr Michael Connelly whose work I always enjoy; he's one of the masters at thriller writing. I mean, his work is glossy and big and its crowd-pleasing but he always pulls it off with style. The Poet (and the Narrows) have one of te few serial killers I though actually worked in fiction. And Mark Billingham's there, who's also a most entertaining writer (DI Thorne, his series protagonist, is a damn fine character and his books speed along at a fair old lick). And Ruth Rendell will there, too, undoubtedly still doing her training so she can arm wrestle Ray Banks in Chicago... Has anyone organised a betting pool for this tussle?
BLATANT PLUG ALERT (Don't say I didn't warn ya...)... Now, I don't know for sure, but I think my short story Coughing John may be in the new issue (July/August) of AHMM. No one told me but I found a story listing and realised it was there. I don't get it for a few weeks thanks to my evil mailman, but seek it out and read it. What is odd about this one is it predates all the other stories previously published by about a year and half... I just forgot to send it out!
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.
Au revoir
Russel
Packed and ready... Well, its a travelling year for ol' Russ here... Off down to Harrogate this july for Harrogate Crime Festival to mix with people who've made it and meet my little ol' agent, too (we haven't actually met face to face yet - although she does work out of London where I'm stuck in Dundee). Then after that, off to Chicago (The windy city, the windy city is mighty pretty but they ain't got what got... like Neds) for good ol' Bouchercon. I'm all a-twitter, I tells ya. Looking forward at Harrogate to seeing Mr Michael Connelly whose work I always enjoy; he's one of the masters at thriller writing. I mean, his work is glossy and big and its crowd-pleasing but he always pulls it off with style. The Poet (and the Narrows) have one of te few serial killers I though actually worked in fiction. And Mark Billingham's there, who's also a most entertaining writer (DI Thorne, his series protagonist, is a damn fine character and his books speed along at a fair old lick). And Ruth Rendell will there, too, undoubtedly still doing her training so she can arm wrestle Ray Banks in Chicago... Has anyone organised a betting pool for this tussle?
BLATANT PLUG ALERT (Don't say I didn't warn ya...)... Now, I don't know for sure, but I think my short story Coughing John may be in the new issue (July/August) of AHMM. No one told me but I found a story listing and realised it was there. I don't get it for a few weeks thanks to my evil mailman, but seek it out and read it. What is odd about this one is it predates all the other stories previously published by about a year and half... I just forgot to send it out!
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.
Au revoir
Russel
And the Lord Sayeth... bugger all shall happen
Mes Amis
Mysterious Ways... Revelations should be good and in many ways it is. Look, it comes from the writer of the Omen and its got the reliable Bill Pullman on the screen with creepy twin fashion models and Natascha McElhone. In a wimple. What more could you want?
Well, you could want anything to happen. I mean, for all the signs and portents this mini series is dragging on way too long. Why is Gimli even in this show? I mean he rolls around in his wheelchair and talks about science every once in a while which is presumably meant as a counterpoint to all the religious imagery happening elsewhere, but he just feels... redundant... I mean, this should be a big, exciting show. Its about the end of the world for Goodness sakes. But over the course of four hours we've learned next to nothing about the characters and nobody's sure whether the baby found floating in the sea is Jesus or the devil... and quite frankly, by now I'm beginning not to care... Come on, this thing's gotta get pace. But we did get to see Ms McElhone in a red dress at one point when Bill Pullman pulled the "you have to get out of those nun's clothes to hide from the devil's servants" pickup line. Honestly, does any self respecting nun fall for that one any more?
Respect the chin.... I loved Bruce Campbell's authbiography, If Chins Could Kill a lot. A hell of a lot. Really, the guy's pretty grounded by all signs, and not only that but his self-deprecating humour made for a laugh-out-loud read. It probably helps if you're already something of a fan of Bruce's, um, checkered career. Like all good people of a certain age, I loved Evil Dead (it scared the bejeezus out of me) but preferred EDII and Army of Darkness (because I laughed till milk came my nose at them). Of course, I also adored his recent appearance in the sublime Bubba Ho Tep (where Bruce played an aging Elvis -still alive and in a retirement home - who teamed up with JFK - also stuck in the home and disguised as an aging black man by the secret service - to fight an undead Mummy). And now, Bruce's first novel is out. And the title is one to love: How To Make Love The Bruce Campbell Way. Of course, I am worried. Much as I respect the Chin I have to wonder whether Bruce's talents fall to the fiction, or whether that same authorial voice that made me fall over laughing in If Chins Could Kill is going to interfere with this project. Ah, what the hell, I'll buy it anyway. The fan in me has faith and sometimes, a little faith is rewarded... it certainly was with Chins...
Anyway, till next time mes amis
Au Revoir
Russel
Mysterious Ways... Revelations should be good and in many ways it is. Look, it comes from the writer of the Omen and its got the reliable Bill Pullman on the screen with creepy twin fashion models and Natascha McElhone. In a wimple. What more could you want?
Well, you could want anything to happen. I mean, for all the signs and portents this mini series is dragging on way too long. Why is Gimli even in this show? I mean he rolls around in his wheelchair and talks about science every once in a while which is presumably meant as a counterpoint to all the religious imagery happening elsewhere, but he just feels... redundant... I mean, this should be a big, exciting show. Its about the end of the world for Goodness sakes. But over the course of four hours we've learned next to nothing about the characters and nobody's sure whether the baby found floating in the sea is Jesus or the devil... and quite frankly, by now I'm beginning not to care... Come on, this thing's gotta get pace. But we did get to see Ms McElhone in a red dress at one point when Bill Pullman pulled the "you have to get out of those nun's clothes to hide from the devil's servants" pickup line. Honestly, does any self respecting nun fall for that one any more?
Respect the chin.... I loved Bruce Campbell's authbiography, If Chins Could Kill a lot. A hell of a lot. Really, the guy's pretty grounded by all signs, and not only that but his self-deprecating humour made for a laugh-out-loud read. It probably helps if you're already something of a fan of Bruce's, um, checkered career. Like all good people of a certain age, I loved Evil Dead (it scared the bejeezus out of me) but preferred EDII and Army of Darkness (because I laughed till milk came my nose at them). Of course, I also adored his recent appearance in the sublime Bubba Ho Tep (where Bruce played an aging Elvis -still alive and in a retirement home - who teamed up with JFK - also stuck in the home and disguised as an aging black man by the secret service - to fight an undead Mummy). And now, Bruce's first novel is out. And the title is one to love: How To Make Love The Bruce Campbell Way. Of course, I am worried. Much as I respect the Chin I have to wonder whether Bruce's talents fall to the fiction, or whether that same authorial voice that made me fall over laughing in If Chins Could Kill is going to interfere with this project. Ah, what the hell, I'll buy it anyway. The fan in me has faith and sometimes, a little faith is rewarded... it certainly was with Chins...
Anyway, till next time mes amis
Au Revoir
Russel
Sunday, June 5
Scream if you wanna kill Geri
Mes Amis
Sound Wars... It got worse, mes amis, really it did. Things went quiet after a while and the door upstairs slammed. I heard someone go out through the stairwell and breathed a sigh of relief. I settled back to watch the late night repeat of Dr Who (having missed it earlier that evening - and as ever, I absolutely loved this episode) but then something terrible happened. Upstairs Neighbour returned at half two. Orbital came on the stereo full blast. My lights started shaking. Again, no reply from within. I went downstairs, moved to the front of the flat and my bedroom hoping to escape. Except... The music went up and it was no longer Orbital - - this was something far, far worse... this was the kind of music that gets whispered in terrified tones among those who know the horror, the horror.
The fucker put on Geri Halliwell. Followed by The Beautiful (to whom were they beautiful, I ask) South singing that song about Jennifer, Alison, Jessica and a pencil case. It was like a concert in my flat. I couldn't escape. I couldn't make myself heard.
I got two damn hours sleep. It finally quietened about six, but I had to get up for work. I am not a happy man. And every time I go up to have a quiet word, he's out. So I'll leave it for now, put it down to a lot of drink and a one off. But I was kept up (in the worst possible manner) by Geri Halliwell. Someone has to pay.
Mr Kiss Kiss Boom Boom... Even though he did say Fantastic this week, Mr Eccleston is doing a bang up job on the new Dr Who. Screw the kids the BBC say this is supposedly aimed at, this new series is dealing with some really fun themes and isn't afraid to slow the pace a little for a character-centric episode like this one. With the return of the farting Slitheen family (who previously tried to blow up London so they could make some money) we were expecting derring do and ruberry-claw death. Instead we got a sweet little morality tale with Eccelston shining as ever and, more importantly, the bad guy almost gaining our sympathy at some points. That and Billie continues to show us she can act every once in a while (But please, shave those eyebrows!). And then, next weeks ep: reality TV with lasers. How do we know this isn't really happening (Although I would love to see the BB housemates fried to death with extreme damn prejudice)?
BSP... stands for Blatant Self Promotion. And should you so wish, you can go to ebookreviews and read an online interview with me that was conducted recently... I don't half know how spout bollocks, you know... The interview may be on ebook reviews but it is also in the June edition of Anne K Edwards Voice in the Dark newsletter which I think actually goes live to the non subscribers (available on the site) at the end of the month.
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now
Au revoir
Russel
Sound Wars... It got worse, mes amis, really it did. Things went quiet after a while and the door upstairs slammed. I heard someone go out through the stairwell and breathed a sigh of relief. I settled back to watch the late night repeat of Dr Who (having missed it earlier that evening - and as ever, I absolutely loved this episode) but then something terrible happened. Upstairs Neighbour returned at half two. Orbital came on the stereo full blast. My lights started shaking. Again, no reply from within. I went downstairs, moved to the front of the flat and my bedroom hoping to escape. Except... The music went up and it was no longer Orbital - - this was something far, far worse... this was the kind of music that gets whispered in terrified tones among those who know the horror, the horror.
The fucker put on Geri Halliwell. Followed by The Beautiful (to whom were they beautiful, I ask) South singing that song about Jennifer, Alison, Jessica and a pencil case. It was like a concert in my flat. I couldn't escape. I couldn't make myself heard.
I got two damn hours sleep. It finally quietened about six, but I had to get up for work. I am not a happy man. And every time I go up to have a quiet word, he's out. So I'll leave it for now, put it down to a lot of drink and a one off. But I was kept up (in the worst possible manner) by Geri Halliwell. Someone has to pay.
Mr Kiss Kiss Boom Boom... Even though he did say Fantastic this week, Mr Eccleston is doing a bang up job on the new Dr Who. Screw the kids the BBC say this is supposedly aimed at, this new series is dealing with some really fun themes and isn't afraid to slow the pace a little for a character-centric episode like this one. With the return of the farting Slitheen family (who previously tried to blow up London so they could make some money) we were expecting derring do and ruberry-claw death. Instead we got a sweet little morality tale with Eccelston shining as ever and, more importantly, the bad guy almost gaining our sympathy at some points. That and Billie continues to show us she can act every once in a while (But please, shave those eyebrows!). And then, next weeks ep: reality TV with lasers. How do we know this isn't really happening (Although I would love to see the BB housemates fried to death with extreme damn prejudice)?
BSP... stands for Blatant Self Promotion. And should you so wish, you can go to ebookreviews and read an online interview with me that was conducted recently... I don't half know how spout bollocks, you know... The interview may be on ebook reviews but it is also in the June edition of Anne K Edwards Voice in the Dark newsletter which I think actually goes live to the non subscribers (available on the site) at the end of the month.
Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now
Au revoir
Russel
Saturday, June 4
Speaking of going to hell
Mes Amis
Asshole... My new upstairs neighbour listens to dance music, Madonna and now Resident fuckin' Evil (the Paul Anderson movie) at an annoyingly loud volume. Really, I can't hear my own fuckin' telly - - and the bastard refuses to answer his door when I go up to ask him to skooch it down just a touch. I don't mind the occasional noise but this is freakin' sad - - the roof is shakin' for Gods' sakes and its no wonder he won't answer the door - - it was shaking when I was banging on it earlier.
I'm really getting fuckin' angry now.
Till next mes amis
Au Revoir
Ranting Russel
Asshole... My new upstairs neighbour listens to dance music, Madonna and now Resident fuckin' Evil (the Paul Anderson movie) at an annoyingly loud volume. Really, I can't hear my own fuckin' telly - - and the bastard refuses to answer his door when I go up to ask him to skooch it down just a touch. I don't mind the occasional noise but this is freakin' sad - - the roof is shakin' for Gods' sakes and its no wonder he won't answer the door - - it was shaking when I was banging on it earlier.
I'm really getting fuckin' angry now.
Till next mes amis
Au Revoir
Ranting Russel
Friday, June 3
At least I ain't greedy
Mes Amis
Russel Sin the House... (Kudos where they're due, got this one through Jen Jordan's blog) I have to say, that prediction's probably true...
Russel Sin the House... (Kudos where they're due, got this one through Jen Jordan's blog) I have to say, that prediction's probably true...
Your Deadly Sins |
| Gluttony: 60% |
| Lust: 60% |
| Sloth: 60% |
| Wrath: 60% |
| Pride: 40% |
| Envy: 0% |
| Greed: 0% |
| Chance You'll Go to Hell: 40% |
| You'll die choking on a cookie in bed. |
How Sinful Are You?
You know, even Ray Banks has less chance of going to hell than me.. Guess I'm just pure evil or something (But at least I die in bed - it had better be a damn good cookie, too...)
so till next time, mes amis
Au Revoir
Russel
Thursday, June 2
"If you're gonna cry, keep your shades on..."
Mes Amis
Hello... I'm Johnny Cash... Yes, we love them: its Alabama 3 appreciation month here at Sprout Appreciation. Just picked up a copy of their new album, Outlaw and its freakin' spectacular. Really, these guys are on top of their game. With a definite country influence this time out (which has always been there, but this just goes balls out) we have instant greats like Hello... I'm Johnny Cash, where its almost possible to believe gravel-voiced Larry Love is the man in black himself. We've also got the homage to the Great Train Robbery, Have You Seen Bruce Richard Reynolds which is absolutely wonderful. And, more than anything else, we get to hear the Rev. D-Wayne Love scat on Keep Your Shades On. These guys don't sound like anyone else out there, fusing just about every musical style going into something unique. And with the particularly black humour in many of their lyrics, I say unto them, long lives, sirs!
Lovejoy says: death to the cocksuckers... So the new season of Deadwood has ended in the states - when do we brits get to see it? This was one of the best shows of last year and I'm hungry for more... After all we have to wait about two years between seasons for new Sopranos, and I need some quality adult drama that doesn't pussy its way out of hard situations to enjoy. This is one of the best shows I've seen in many a year, although every time I see a Lovejoy repeat on UKGold I keep expecting our hero to start calling Tinker a cocksucker and maybe try feeding him to the pigs...
Anyway, mes amis, until next time
Au Revoir
Russel
Hello... I'm Johnny Cash... Yes, we love them: its Alabama 3 appreciation month here at Sprout Appreciation. Just picked up a copy of their new album, Outlaw and its freakin' spectacular. Really, these guys are on top of their game. With a definite country influence this time out (which has always been there, but this just goes balls out) we have instant greats like Hello... I'm Johnny Cash, where its almost possible to believe gravel-voiced Larry Love is the man in black himself. We've also got the homage to the Great Train Robbery, Have You Seen Bruce Richard Reynolds which is absolutely wonderful. And, more than anything else, we get to hear the Rev. D-Wayne Love scat on Keep Your Shades On. These guys don't sound like anyone else out there, fusing just about every musical style going into something unique. And with the particularly black humour in many of their lyrics, I say unto them, long lives, sirs!
Lovejoy says: death to the cocksuckers... So the new season of Deadwood has ended in the states - when do we brits get to see it? This was one of the best shows of last year and I'm hungry for more... After all we have to wait about two years between seasons for new Sopranos, and I need some quality adult drama that doesn't pussy its way out of hard situations to enjoy. This is one of the best shows I've seen in many a year, although every time I see a Lovejoy repeat on UKGold I keep expecting our hero to start calling Tinker a cocksucker and maybe try feeding him to the pigs...
Anyway, mes amis, until next time
Au Revoir
Russel
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