I'm back, baby!

Mes Amis

Since you been gone... Woah-woah-woah-oh, Woah-woah-woah-oh! Ahem, anyway, yes I'm back, baby. I ain't getting kicked off the front page for no one. I have, of course, been very busy of late (see my adventures over at These Aye Mean Streets if you need an explanation) and so feel like I've left Becs to play alone. But no more.

The Good Book... Have I ever mentioned how much I love Philip K Dick? I mean, not literally, but the man was a God to me when I first discovered proper growed-up type fiction. His SF was weird, wonderful and more mature in its dealings with humanity than much of the pap that followed it. And then there are the mainstream novels... They were all rejected one day in the sixties, slamming through his postbox with a note attached saying how no one wanted them. Dick's dreams of being taken seriously were crushed. Only one (the amazing Confessions of a Crap Artist) was published during his lifetime, but they are still vibrant, beautiful works. Like the one I just read: In Milton Lumky Territory. Don't you just wanna read a book with a title like that? Despite the strangeness of the title, the book is a 1960's love story in its own twisted way. Bruce, a sales rep, meets the woman of his dreams and promptly marries her. Trouble is, she's ten years older than he was and was his high school teacher. As their odd relationship plays out, we explore Dick's constant fascinations with mental health, the true meaning of communication between beings and empathy. It sounds heavy stuff, and some of it is, but Dick has a great narrative voice and his characters are so fragile that you can't help but love them. The Milton Lumky of the title, by the way, is a newspaper salesman who may just understand more about the lovers than they could ever understand themselves.

Its Russel's literary pick of the month. In fact, any book by PKD (With the possible exception of the Zap Gun) would be Russel's literary pick of the month.

Speaking of Literary... Gonzo's gone, baby, Gonzo's really gone.

Anyway, mes amis, I shall return soon

Till then

Au revoir

Russel

Funny for my ears

I've been listening to podcasts while at work. Yes I am the giggler at the desk in the corner. I'm sorry but a grandma porn story read out with the voices makes me laugh like a pervert in a pantomime. This giggling is caused by 'distorted view' who have an inspired sextastic tuesday edition with porn stories that are a little...disturbing to say the least. I quote "I realised it was the best blowjob ever because she didn't have her teeth in and it was her gums knawing on me" *shudder* made even funnier by the presenter, Tim, and his fantastic commentary and obvious glee coupled with disgust at the stories. Every other day is news of the weird and general chat on porn, sex and gross bodily function.
Seriously funny if you have that kind of sense of humour, you know wether you have this sense of humour. Distorted view is very very adult so if you happen to be a minor don't be going there and saying I sent you.Right?
Distorted view is available on Itunes. Or visit Distorted View
Ba da da da duh duh I'm lovin it!


Later in the day....

I just realised that I don't think anyone comes here. I think when Russel Left to start his blog I think you all left with him. *sigh*
oh well.
I'm thinking of changing the appearance of the Blog, I think It could do with lightening up a little bit. Any ideas? Oh yeah, I forgot; theres no-one here. *bigger sigh*

a new way to go (literally)

I shlomped over to the Co-op online for a link.
I clicked about and came up with this

Hey!
I just read down some of my previous posts and realised that the ladybird people never emailed me back! well, fuck them. All I wanted to know was all about the stupid green lady bird but they're obviously too busy having fucking tiffin or something to email me back. Well screw 'em.

Igby Goes Up!

Igby Goes Up!
Originally uploaded by Sprout appreciation.

here is igby. isn't he cute? On second thoughts don't answer that

heheheh

Well I've done it.
I've been browsing for years and I've finally done it
Back to the beginning for me!!

december six

december six
Originally uploaded by antimethod.

Check this guy's stuff out. Really and seriously. I can assure you you need to see these. Really

what a weekend.

Ok, don't get upset, Ijust think everyone gets this feeling.

Jeez

Ok so for those of you who don't know I was engaged. Note the was.
I didn't really want to start phoning people to tell them, I couldn't cope with the "oh, what happened??" 'cos I really don't want to talk about it, it was very upsetting and amicable, no shouting and it wasn't done in anger. Plus I still have this silly bursting into tears and hyperventilating when I think about it thing going on. It's getting better though, I managed all the way on the bus without crying once! little steps :-)

If I went away

I was thinking at the weekend, If i went missing would anyone look for me? I've often thought about this after I saw a young guy sitting on the pavement in York and I thought "why has no-one come to find you?" He looked about 15. Someone should have been looking.
For me, on my bad days I just think about how many freinds I have and that I think some of them would try and find me. Thats a nice thought.

Finally...

The young chap beside me on the bus was reading a book about 'discrete mathematics'.
Is anyone else getting lovely visions of people wandering about quietly thumbing their calculators and slouching in corners attempting equations?

Finally finally...

Does anyone remember a guy who used to write on here.... Russ or something? I seem to have a vague recollection of a beard but it's been soooo long.....

Dear god above

Browsing on Ebay at work and I encountered this. I am dumbstruck with terror.

Trades description act.!!!

IGBY

So I got my snail through the post. He's beautiful.
He does, However, make a mockery of the title Giant African Land Snail.
First off he came from Portsmouth. Secondly he's mini. You ever eat guylian chocolates?, the sea shells? He's worrying the same size and colour as one of these.
I went out the day before he was supposed to arrive and bought a big tank, substrate, cute rock water holder, heat pad (yeah yeah he only cost £1:50, the tank alone was £10, the heater £11 etc.)
So he arrived and I laughed. He's around 2" long, all in. I had put bits of food in for him that were bigger than he is. Still, he's a growing lad.
Also, If you want a pet thats all action and excitement don't get one of these he buries himself in substrate and doesn't move. At all. I move him, he eats and buries himself again. He has done a poo though. It was white (too much cuttlefish!!) yummy. Interested? here's a link on the snails.

Green???

I saw a green ladybird today. Honestly-green. fucked up or what??
So i looked here but they don't have green ladybirds. So I emailed them. I will await their reply with interest. I might be mad.

Nother poem (sorry)


I think dogs are rather cute.

I like to poke them with my foot

when the doggy sniffs at me

I touch myself excitedleeee!

my doggy fetish is rather strange

I have a horrid case of mange

my bits are just one giant scab

I got it off of next doors lab.

My doggie love will never stall

who else could I pull with a bouncy ball?

Good book, shame about the writing.

Something about nothing

I sat behind a girl engrossed in her book on the bus today, so as is my want i read a little over her shoulder. Unfortunatly the first line I came across began
"Frankly, Samantha..."
I pondered wether I would read a book that contains such frantically bad lines as 'frankly samantha...' and concluded that no, I wouldn't. Then I thought, 'do people actually talk like that?'. I pondered all the way from Braehead to the sewage treatment plant. I recall at points saying 'frankly' but I was being sarcastic (unlike me I know). Lines like "frankly officer russ does these things" spring to mind. But I don't think I ever have in a serious context. I don't think I'd let anyone talk to me like that either. "Frankly Beca....*smack*....uggghhh". So I won't read her book. If I knew the title.

why the moonlight on your shell,its beautiful

I am finally fufilling a dream I've had for a few years now. I'm getting an african land snail. I am very excited. Ordered it today (ahhh ebay!) More news as I get it!!

a poem by me

I tried to make a home porn movie
just 'cause I was feeling groovy

I rolled around, a moaner groaner
all that was missing was a boner

A kinky fetish I did try
and caught a furball in my eye

I tried a carrot in my anus
a desperate bid to make me famous

the end snapped off, alak alas.
and now its stuck deep in my ass

going through a freaky phase
I introduced some mayonnaise

its gone, too lost for eva
then lost some cabbage-just a sliva

Now Im famous-really big!
I go out hidden in a wig!

I made histry
who could have foresaw

I made the first
porn anal coleslaw

Ignore this message

I thought my life was complete until Russ posted that picture of the delectable David Tennant as Dr Who. I had so much missing from my life and didn't even know.
I have to admit, I really enjoyed the last series, and now I'm looking forward to the next one getting going.It was utter saturday night telly; leave your brain at the door. Nice writing, good acting, funny and cheeky.
I arrive at Dr Who from a slightly different angle from the Russmyster as I was never particularly fan- I did however have a crush on Sylvester McCoy but I don't think that counts. Ashamed as I am to admit it the first full episode of Dr Who I ever watched had Christopher Ecclestone in it. Shocking!
I have pretended to be a Dr Who fan however- I have been inside a real dalek and I have clapped the original K-9. Sad but true as metallica once sang

clickety click

I foolishly use two email addresses at work. The one you can swear on, make lewd comments and generally be awful in (yahoo) and the work one which I have discovered actually blots out rude words for you (MS outlook)
This has resulted in a particularly tiresome game of email ping pong where I have to click between email accounts to see if I have emails.
I have a confession to make.
I'm one of those people who constantly checks to see if I have mail. Its actually scary. I don't even think about it I just *click ,click, click* all the time. Every mouse depression is my little soul shouting "somebody love me pleasse!!!" I know no joy like a '1 unread message' sign.

gimmie coffee an a labotomy

I just opened a sachet of sugar in the coffee room while chatting with a guy from another department, y'know casual like. I then proceeded to throw the sugar in the bin and chuck the empty sachet in my cup. While doing this I was explaining how I had two computer screens and I couldn't get them both to work. After this display the general feeling was 'thats not suprising'
I now have both working (thanks davie)and can have two things open at once- just now I have blogger open on one screen and a word doc. open on the other and my pointer rolls between them both. Thats pretty cool you have to admit. Or I'm really behind with the times and everyone has it except me and again, I'm late to the party-again. anyway I'm going to boot my Commodore 64 up.....

you met who at the shops?

Ever worked with someone who lives their life loudly over the office phone? Theres a woman in my cluster of desks and her entire life is played out over her mobile and the office phone, loudly and constantly.
The guy at the other end of the office knows exactly what her mortgage quote from the abbey national is. Her vet is called Mr Mayhew and her dog has a chronic ear infection (probably from listening to her) Her boyfreind was great last night.All this and more.
Please please be quiet or I may be forced to remove your eyeballs with your stapler, and yes we all know its yours , you told us many times and I can see your name etched on it with a staple.

Ahhh... new teeth

Mes Amis

Change, my dear, and not a moment too soon... Pictures up at the BBC of the new Doctor Who as played by Tennant. Oooo, I'm all a quiver with excitement (that last series was so damn good; hell, even Billie managed to look like she was acting). I like the new look. A blend of the eccentricity of old combined with a casual, slightly modern look.

They have a lot to live up to next season, but from what I can gather they have a treat for old fans with Sarah Jane Smith (played by Elisabeth Sladen) making an appearance. She used to travel with Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker back in the old days. They also have Stephen Fry writing an episode, a guest appearance by Anthony Stewart Head who used to stalk his next door neighbour under the pretence of having no coffee and later taught young ladies how to use pointy sticks.

And one word: Cybermen. They'd better get them right. The Cybermen never quite lived up to their potential (and for such emotionless creatures they alway seemed really fuckin' angry all the time!)

Squat... You think that pic was bad, Ms Simpson? There is one on the roll where it looks like I'm having a dump in a graveyard. That one, well, I like it.

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.

Au revoir

Russel

I love cup noodle

Back at work today for the first time after my so called holiday. Work is actually proving preferable to the holiday, how bad is that?
I know you all think I'm an arguementative and nasty type, you especially russ, but I'm really not, I'm quite aimiable. I just wanted to get that in before i tell you how bad my holiday was.
Camping was the plan, I wasn't too keen but my freind, who we'll call charlotte, was well keen.
I have to admit, in the last couple of months charlotte's behaviour had been getting worse and worse. Really selfish me me me kinda stuff. I think it was like a boiling a frog situation.Overall her behaviour had become abysmal but because it was over a period of time I just got used to it. So away we went in the tent up north.
Charlotte got her tongue pierced the day before we went away (duhhhhh) so she was silent and sullen. Every thing I said was reacted to in a kind of 'yeah, whatever' way. or with no answer at all. Cheerful.
Wednesday I checked my bank and discovered I had no cash and I realised I would have to go home. Much stomping of feet and seething silent anger from charlotte. Eventually she snapped and screamed at me in the street that I was making it all her fault and that I had ruined her holiday because I needed to go home- she only had a fortnight off work and I had wrecked it. Ignoring the fact I only had 5 days in total holiday due from work until december and I had to take 3 of them to go away with her and I only had £10 in the bank and payday was a week and a half away. So the upshot of it is I ended up having to spend my last £10 on the bus back from St Andrews.
I'm gonna add a cheezie type ending. On the bus home I had a rare chance to have a good think about everything. I reckon that I've got better freinds than that going around. Don't need a mate that uses me to improve their own social standing and make them look better. Or that was rude to my other freinds and family.
There we are, a busy week. I only told her to fuck off once too!

If you feel like you're alone, weird, 'no-one else thinks like me' type thing then check this out

I'd like to share

Russ has this picture on his website. It says'russel looking pensive' I think steve throws the dogs into the backdoor if they begin to take that sort of pensive stance. Squatting I'd call it but then again I'm not literary.

not to be left behind

Rebecca Simpson's Aliases

Your movie star name: Cup Noodle William

Your fashion designer name is Rebecca Frankfurt

Your socialite name is Measle Dundee

Your fly girl / guy name is R Sim

Your detective name is Stoat Renfrew

Your barfly name is Chocolate Orange Schnapps

Your soap opera name is Kirklandneuk

Your rock star name is Malteasers Stars

Your star wars name is Rebfer Simbob

Your punk rock band name is The Spanking Wheelie Bin

The Amazing Meganame Generator

No Sleep

Mes Amis

I really can't sleep. Can't get sleepy. Want to but can't.

So I'm writing but then I needed a break and as ever went to see if there were any distractions at Human Under Construction (Jen always seems to find some fun distractions...) and, of course, there was a name generator thingy. Which was amusing. And then I saw my punk band name.

Banana Hammock is a funny word.

Russel D McLean's Aliases

Your movie star name: Twix John

Your fashion designer name is Russel Marseilles

Your socialite name is Rusty New York

Your fly girl / guy name is R McL

Your detective name is Bat Bell Baxter

Your barfly name is Dorritos IPA

Your soap opera name is D Old Town

Your rock star name is Topic The Flash

Your star wars name is Ruspoo McLnat

Your punk rock band name is The Frustrated Banana Hammock

The Amazing Meganame Generator

Ahhhh... timewasting

au revoir

Russel

On the QT and very hush-hush...

Mes Amis

Hogwarts Confidential... Not as bad as it could have been today... really... most people understood out Potter offer and very few people kicked up a fuss. Someone tried to tell me The Half Blood Prince wasn't the new one but I kicked them in the crotch and told them if they dared contradict my book knowledge again I'd make them read Jeffrey Archer.

Anyway, just came across the Guardian's competition to write about the death of Dumbledore (I understand he might be the dude with the big beard) in the style of another author. Frankly, the world would be a better place if James Ellroy had written the Potter books. Of course if it really was Ellroy writing it there'd be far more sex, pages of bad language and... well, I'd be reading Harry Potter books like there was more tomorrow...

Remember you heard it here on the QT and very hush-hush.

Au revoir

Russel

Harry Potter and the Half-Wit Public

Mes Amis

Oh, oh, oh its (not) magic... I have a name for my pain and that name is Harry Potter. As some of you may know, in my real life I work in the world of book retail. And that means that tomorrow is the day from hell. Oh, yes, Harry Potter is released on the world. Already today we've had hundreds of half-wits (well maybe a few less, we're a small shop) asking us to buy it today. They can't understand why we can't sell it to them*. "But its oan releese at midnight, mahn," they say, scrunching up their foreheads in confusion. "Ye's can fuckin gie us it noo, likes." And that's just the five years olds. I am proud to say I have not read Potter. And its not because of some half-assed stuck-up pretentious, "I'm cooler than you" bullshit. Its just because, frankly, I don't care. I might get round to it one day. And I think its great if it encourages kids to read but I don't know that it does. I suspect it just encourages them to read Harry Potter. Will they move on to discover other literary delights? I doubt it, sometimes. I might be wrong but when you see some of the neanderthal kids who stumble into our store, its clear they don't care about other books. Just the one they're told to buy (JK Rowling has an amazing advertising campaign). Of course, a few do surprise me. I'm pleasantly surprised to see Horrowitz is still popular (I loved the Diamond Brother books when I was young) and all the girls love Jackie Wilson, you know, the one who writes about that girl Tracey who owns a beaker (or something like that: I know she didn't sing Reet-Petite).

Anyway, the fact is I hate this time of year so probably this post is filled with biased bile. I accept that and if you want to defend Harry go ahead. The fact is I'm not railing against Harry or JK (Who'da thought as well as funking out and wearing hats he was a bestselling female author of children's novels) but rather against the pathetic amount of fuss made over this one book and the pressure on retailers at the time of its release. Retail makes you cynical that way. I hate a Harry Potter release. I hate the bloodlust, I hate the fact that adults try to look cool by buying an adult edition and most of all I hate the idea of midnight openings. I hate the competition for pricing. Luckily our shop is small enough we dodged a bullet this year with the midnight opening malarkey.

Oh well, all power to Ms Rowling. Wish I had her bank balance (as do many other authors.)

In the meantime, have a read about it all in The Guardian.

*We can't sell it because if we do then Bloomsbury's Laser Satellite Tracking System is alerted and we're visited by the CEO, armed with some sellotape, a broom handle, a rabbi and a small Hamster called Horace. I won't go into details...


Too Hot to sleep... Really, folks, its a Dundonian heatwave here... I'm melting in this heat and the worst thing is it gets really hot at night so I can't even relax then. Mind you, here's one cure for sleeplessness I know not to try. Although the part before the scooter sounds worth a try.

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.

Au Revoir

Russel

And We're Done...

Mes Amis

Mmmmm... books... At last, mes amis, the flat is done! Two-odd years and its all painted, the bathroom's redone, the lights refitted and all the shite furniture away. The carpets were fitted on wednesday (and very comfortable they are, too!) and now all my books have returned from storage. Thirteen large cardboard boxes of the buggers. In my tiny flat I now have six full to bursting bookcases and several storage boxes of comic books. But I feel truly at home, now. I hope I don't have to move any time soon...

Mother, father, I shall become a bat... Since seeing Batman Begins (twice, now: and both times with fucking kids nearby - don't parents even think that it might be a 12A for a fuckin' reason?) I have been reliving my comic book geekness. So getting back all these comics has meant I can start to re-read a few of the classics. Like Batman Year One which is one of the best and most grounded Batman stories told. A true origin story, this belongs more to Gordon than Bruce and I kinda wish we could have seen Oldman have a story arc like this to deal with as Gordon cuts through corruption in the GCPD. Maybe we will in the next movie, you never know. Strangely it ends in a way similar to Begins with Gordon finding out there's a new costumed villain in town with a flair for the theatrical... I've also found copies of Batman v Predator (a surprisingly good story considering the dreck they could have written) and I'm about to dive into Knightfall - watch Batman's back get broken, folks. Truly a milestone unlike the poor publicity stunt DC were running at the same time with the "death" of Super(boring)Man.

Mmmmmmonkey!... With thanks to Jen for providing yet more frippery...

Russel is a Haggis-Eating Sniper Monkey ...with a Battle Rating of 7.7 To see if your Food-Eating Battle Monkey can defeat Russel, enter your name:

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now

Au revoir

Russel

Wait... worry... who cares?

Mes Amis

On a darker note... I got the DVD of Millenium Season 1 a week ago and, by God, its a bleak show. I never really watched it the first time round. The X Files connection put me off a little, but this is seriously dark crime drama with a supernatural edge here in the first season. Lance Henriskon is suitably world weary as Frank Black and there's barely a hint of light throughout the whole thing. Serial killers, rapists and scumbags seem to be forcing all that's good out of the world and its all Lance can do to stop the filth spreading any further. Sometimes it gets difficult to watch (The Well Worn Lock) but its so well done you can't help but continue... apparently things got more supernatural in season 2 but as a series of stand alone supernaturally-tinged psycho-dramas, Millenium season 1 is top notch stuff.

Mother... the blood... speaking of Psycho's, just read the novel Psycho, by Robert Bloch, which was later turned into the movie by Mr Hitchcock himself. Absolutely wonderful stuff and, at only 150 pages, amazingly trim. Hard to get used to the idea of Norman as fat and fortyish with glasses, but all the same this is well worth rediscovering.

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.

Au revoir

Russel

dont worry it's only kinky the first time you do it.....

So I've discovered the joy's of podcasting.
I dunno if its just me but I like listening to people just chatting away, especially if its about sex. I'm still mentally about 15 years old, I find sex hilarious.
So I recommend looking up 'dawn and drew' But only if you can cope with expletives. Lots of them.

Why is the time not moving quickly? I must have been in this office about 12 hours now and it says it's still only twenty to four. How is that?

oh yeah

Happy birthday Russ me old bud.
You've been my mate for FAR too long (6 years!!). I'm constantly amazed at how far we've come in life and I'm overwhelmingly proud at how far you're going. You still dance like a monkey. You have good coffee, worrying pants and obscene slippers but I'm still pleased to be able to call you my Friend.

beached whale

I'd like to take a moment to describe how to Russel dance , if I may.
Take a liberal quaff of beer, add to it a small retarded cavedwelling bacteria. Eat this mixture. Spin round 17 times.
Sell your soul to a small dog for 10p.Take the ten pence and buy a rubber band, attach to your genitalia (male or female or both, whatever)wait until the aforementioned genitalia turns black.
when your favorite song comes on you,wearing something black, Wrap your body in hotwater bottles until heat stroke threatens and limp into a suitably crowded place. Make sure to undo your top to the point that you may be arrested. spasm and twitch.Don't forget to yell the first name of the artist loudly i.e "BRITNEEEYYYYY"
(Lurch at the fellow dancers and just know you're sexy) Repeat as desired.

Beardie Wierdie..

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

"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

"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

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

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

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

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

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 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.

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

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!!!

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

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

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

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

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...

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

"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

Couldn't you hear the enthusiasm in my ring?

Well, I really wasn't gonna brag about the whole Alabama 3 thing cos I know Russ cries but since he brought it up....
Just to set the scene, I'm sat in a very small pub in Drury Street, Glasgow (o'henrys in case anyone knows it) Some guys come in like rock stars and sit down opposite. A very pained 90 minutes follows for me as I know I know them from somewhere.........
Eventually I think they might just be alabama 3 but i'm not sure. What followed was a very, very stupid 4 minutes during which I went up and simpered and said ' excuse me, can I ask you a reeeeeeeally strange question?, are you alabama 3? ' (gush, simper)
Turns out they were, they enquired after my gig plans and when I explained my precarious financial state I was put on the guest list. Ace!
The highlights of the meeting were:
1. the man with a voice that is so low he should be covered in Magma
2. I got to shake hands with and be in awe of 3 of the band members
3. When they were leaving the lead singer called me pet.
4. I got to act all cool as they went past saying 'see you tonight'
How was the gig? I'll give a full report tomorrow as its late now but in the words of the wonderful Christopher Eccleston....
FANTASTIC!

I know its only TV...

Mes Amis

Fantastic... If Christopher Ecclestone says that one more time, I'm going to take my TV and throw it out the window. Really. I mean, I'm loving the new series of Doctor Who. Its cheesy, cheerful and so at ease with itself that its easy to sit back and enjoy the ride (except maybe for the inexplicably awkward first episode). And its from the bloke who wrote Dark Season; when I was young, it was one of my fave TV shows featuring power crazed (and possibly lesbian) Nazies searching for ancient computer systems underneath small British schools.

This week's episode, with the Doctor and Rose (the actually surprisingly watchable Ms Piper who would be attractive were it not for her oddly unnatural eyebrows which I'm sure are some alien life form that's attached itself to her head while she wasn't looking) stuck in war-torn London and facing zombie-like creatures wearing gasmasks and crying for their mummy was absolutely... um... fantastic! Richard Wilson's cameo was nicely creepy (although I almost expected him to cry, "I don't believe it!" when all the zombies sat up in the hospital beds) and as for this new companion, Captain Jack... well, let's leave judgement for a few episodes and see if he can try and stop being the most irritating prat in the whole time/space contimuum. Why Rose swoons all over him is anyone's guess. His American accent as so unconvincing one has to wonder whether its the British revenge for Keanu Reeve's Jonathan Harker in Coppola's Bram Stoker's Dracula. He makes Peri (Nicola Bryant, who - accompanied by her hypnotic breasts - travelled in the TARDIS with Colin Baker's mentally unstable and ill-fated sixth Doctor) sound like she was a native. But so far for every wrong turn the new show has taken, its made at least three right ones so hopefully Captain Jack will develop some kind of character as time goes by and maybe even start to sound like the American he supposedly is.

Pity Poor Edgar... Edgar Styles is the most unfortunate character in the history of TV... played by the chubby and permanently sweating Louis Lombardi (Who has only ever played one role - the fat, sweaty nervous guy - but does it spectactularly well) has - in the span of one day - had his mother commit suicide but still managed to save a good percentage of the American continent from nuclear meltdown, tracked down several terrorist suspects and generally saved the asses of everyone in CTU more times than anyone can count. And yet, this being the world of 24, no one has actually bothered to stop and say thankyou. No, instead, when he asks for clarification on a task all anyone can do is question whether he's able to do his job. Well, don't worry Edgar, we're rooting for you... Almost as much as we're rooting for mad Jack Bauer who wouldn't be able to spell constitution if he was given a dictionary and all the letters in the wrong order. Jack's so ludicrously crazy its no wonder CTU gives him carte blanche to do whatever he likes; I wouldn't argue with him.

Speaking of Crazy... Nip/Tuck gets more luidcrous (and somehow more compelling) with every episode. Let's catch you up to speed, shall we? Sean and Christian are plastic surgeons. Sean was married with a wife, daughter and son. But then his son went and slept with his life coach, who had also been treating Sean's wife. This also ended up revealing that Christian was Sean's son's real father so Sean went loopy, threw his wife out and started sleeping with a porn star (and her "real doll") who had previously been sleeping with Christian (before she went loopy and tried to cut off his dick). Meanwhile, it transpires that the life coach (played by the gorgeous Famke Jansen) has been sleeping with her own son while she's been sleeping Sean's son. Oh, yes, and there's a guy on the loose who's been slashing people's faces and Sean has been fixing them even though the slasher has threatened to kill him.

Right, take a breath. Because tonight's finale went even more loony tunes on us poor viewers. Famke, it transpies, is a man. Or she was. You see, she'd been in love with Alec Baldwin - who was playing a famous doctor now turned Botanist - while she was a man. But he couldn't love a man so he finally gave her the operation so he could love him/her but then realised he couldn't get the image of Famke as a man out his mind even though she was now a rather good looking lady. So she went loony and nipped off with their adopted son to start sleeping with him. And then she became a life coach. Honestly, if the production values weren't so high and the actors so good, this could be a daytime soap. But the fact that everyone in the show takes it so seriously helps. The scripts are actually really smart and despite its dramatic trappings you have to suspect this is really just a very black comedy where none of the characters are in on the joke. It needs a third season and I will be watching. Yes, its glossy and ludicrous and about as belieavable as Vin Diesel playing a top soldier assigned to look after children (wait a minute...) but it is still one of the best and most intelligently mindless drama series on the box. If you haven't been watching, then shame on you, my friends...

Anyway, mes amis, there's more on t'telly tonight so..

Au Revoir

Russel

Feel the farce...

Mes Amis

Jammy person... Well, Beccy went to see the grand Alabama 3 this evening... I'm almost upset, but I came back home to a few messages where I could hear music in the background and the woman herself screaming so I guess she had a good time.. maybe she'll tell us all about it one day...

The Syph Strike Back... So I caved... I went to see Ep III... Well, some of my friends wanted to and I guess I wasn't dead set against it, just a little apprehensive... I mean, after all Ep I and II were, frankly, shite (except ep II had Yoda playing the pinball to Christopher Lee's lightsaber flipper). And a good seventy percent of Ep III is shite, too.

But strangely, the stuff that works is brilliant. The lightsaber fights are brilliantly choreographed, the ship battles are the stuff that sci-fi geek wet dreams are made of and then there's the thrill of seeing that suit for the first time (which is then promptly ruined by the worst piece of slapstick drama ever committed to culluloid - I hope that paycheck was worth that one, elongated word, Mr Earl Jones). Really, when it comes to action and spectacle Star Wars ep III kicks everyone's ass from here to eternity. And once more Yoda gets to do a pinball impression - not once but twice which made me smile a lot. Oh, and the Emperor is so over the top pantomime evil that you just can't help but love him.

But then Lucas tries to write a script and it all falls apart. If you thought the Anakin/Padme nonsense was bad enough in Ep II then you still aren't prepared for the levels of cringeinducing dialogue mixed with the "I'd rather be anywhere but here" delivery by the lovely Natalie Portman. In fact, Lucas even manages to make Ms Portman look dowdy and rotund by dressing her in the the most ugly nightwear ever worn by any woman on celluloid. Anakin doesn't look depressed because of his nightmares, its because he wakes up and sees this frump in lime green.

But Ms Portman's poor wardrobe and even poorer delivery doesn't hold a candle to Hayden "I know there's a camera pointing at me, that's why I'm raising my eyebrow to indicate how evil I am" Christiansen. In this story we should be witnessing Anakin's struggle between the dark and the light, but instead it looks like he decides in one second to switch over to the dark side (Look, this isn't exactly a major spoiler so don't moan at me that I told you about it). Really, this role requires a little bit of acting to get that struggle across and deepen the tragedy, but when the actor doesn't sound like he believes one word he's saying ("The Jedi have betrayed us..." he says, sounding like he'd really rather have a cheese sandwich than fight for the side he believes to be in the right) then the whole character arc is lost.

On the plus side, Ewan McGregor's beginning to remember how to act and is almost passable as a young Guinness (almost, I say, but not quite).

The problem with this film is that every time it starts to get good, it ruins its own momentum with some stupid decision. Whether its Vader's final transformation destroyed by the most misjudged line in cinema history or the best lightsaber fight ever ruined by an ending that came straight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (you'll know it when you see it; and even that still could have been good if the actor playing Anakin had any kind of chops at all).

Basically, there's a lot of promise here (the fact that the script seems to portray the jedi as far more self involved than their hype would have you believe and all of the stuff whereby the Emperor gains control) ruined by poor delivery and the fact that you're really enjoying the film until almost anyone opens their mouth to speak.

Even Samuel L Jackson and his big, purple saber can't save this (in fact Sam's sadly part of the reason this film is so poor; I've never seen such an unnafecting fate for a character in my life). But the worst thing is it could have been so good. And there is a lot to love. Really; the action is amazing. But sadly the action's no good without interest and with so many cardboard characters and so many actors unable to breathe life into this poor excuse for a script, Ep III is hardly the return to form so many people believe. Although for the geeks, its great to see stuff like the final duel between Obi Wan and Anakin and hear that music swelling in a cinema once more...

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now

Au Revoir

Russe;

Memories are made of this...

Mes Amis

I am the carpet man and I can lay... Fucking carpet people - two days on the trot they've said "we'll be there at x hours to do an estimate" and two days of no shows and no real explanations except a brusque apology when I phone and an insistence that if I handed over my keys they could get in when it was convenient to them... Um, no...

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be... I was back home at my parent's place the other week. I went a rooting through the cupboards of all my old stuff and found my very first rejection letter from Virgin Publishing back when they were doing the Doctor Who: New Adventures series of novels. And what a great letter it was, saying some nice things about the effort I'd put in but saying that ultimately they couldn't do anything since they just lost the licence to do the novels. But better yet was the fact that I reworked the novel without the Who elements and sent it to them when they did the Virgin Worlds series of SF novels - I got back a big checklist of all that I did wrong... bear in mind I was about sixteen at the time... and my worst crime was being unoriginal, that is some elements may have been space opera stuff that everyone had seen before. But my characters were good and my prose was good enough for a published novel... it was the nicest letter I ever got as a rejection... I also found the shredded front of another manuscript I'd sent off on which the person to whom the letter had gone had scribbled, "Sorry, but as you can see my kids got a hold of it. They didn't like it, either". I'm still amazed that didn't stop me writing forever...

Speaking of literary people... Sarah Weinman's excellent blog, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind is always worth checking out... but I'm in absolute awe of the letter she got from a guy claiming to be a literary agent (just for the record, my agent actually knows what she's doing!).

How not to apply for work...So I found a job I fancy... Really, really fancy... Working as a writer on a gaming magazine... And I sent in my application which included a small article I'd worked my ass off on to get right for them... except I attached an unfinished draft copy to the email... so I tried to send off the proper one (with a wee note) later that night when I realised my mistake... except fucking AOL decided it wasn't going to send anything and disconnected me twelve times midway through sending the bastard thing... The more technology can do the less it wants to do for you...

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now.

Au Revoir

Russel

Unlucky for some

Mes Amis

Let me whore myself... The new issue of crimescenescotland is online now featuring new fiction, reviews and a whole lot more. Number 13 may be unlucky for some but its a treat for our readers!

Au revoir

Russel

"My My, so many guns, so little brains..."

Mes Amis

Just what Hammett would have wanted... Y'know, I'm sure he'd have been pleased with this (thank the Lord it ain't real...)... after all, Jim Carey is Bogey's natural succesor...

I don't know about art... But I know someone has to be making a monkey of the art world...

Speaking of which... I guess there's been a precedent set for this kind of thing before... Sly Stallone is a man of many, many talents... Its just a pity they're not acting, directing or painting.

Cheerleaders again... Following our earlier tale of the Texas officials who can't quite believe some Cheerleaders are engaging in lewd movements out there on the field, the ever reliable Onion asks ordinary people for their opinons...

Stupid Cupid... Ahhh, the Onion, source of all the news that's fit to print... And so, I think we'll turn to them for a little romance to end our little tour of the web today...

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now

Au Revoir

Russel

Super Sized

Mes Amis

Lard Ass... I mean, we all knew he was right even before we saw the film, right? Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me got its terresitrial premiere on (gasp!) Channel fuckin' 4 (as it is now officially known) the other night. I missed this at the movies so this was a chance to have all my suspicions (and insider knowledge) confirmed. A couple years ago I worked at McDonalds (a Customer Care Assistant) and gained a lot of weight. More than a lot. I went from average to lardy. Not overly lardy but just blobby around the middle and heavier than I used to be. And I can't get it off (not without dedicating myself, I suspect, to some kind of super diet) even now. One of the things Spurlock fails to mention, even though he notices most McD's employees are lardasses is the cunning way McDonald's gets you to eat its food. By paying the absolute minimum it can and by giving you one forty-five minute break per day (or that's how it was when I was there) you have no choice but to eat the free meal they provide. Being a part timer I only ate the food maybe three to four days a week but it was enough. The work, even on the front, is physically tiring. You don't sit down, you're dealing with heat and those customers think you're there just to be pushed around. And eating McD's - as Spurlock demonstrated - ain't exactly condusive to energy, but rather saps it away. Add to that you have the stink of fries and "meat" in your nostrils all day and you take it home with you in your hair and clothes. Another thing I noticed when I was there - and Spurlock mentions this briefly but is more concerned with other matters connected - is that kids don't actually like McDonald's. Seriously. Spurlock points out the conditioning that gets them in. And what I remember is kids leaving bits of burger around because they didn't like them, but being delighted because they got the toy or they got to see the clown. The parents - who are harrassed enough at having to drag their child in - yell at the kid about eating "all your food; think of the starving people in Elbonia" and the kid eats and gradually aclimatises themselves to the food through sheer persistence. I've never been happier since I stopped eating McDonald's. But you know the odd thing, every so often I get a craving for KFC or Burger King even though I *know* they must be doing exactly the same things to me that eating McDonalds three or four times a week for a year did.

Pukka... and it pains me to say this but I'm gaining more respect for Jamie Oliver, who may have all that mockney fucking chirpy chappy shit going on, but at least he's doing good things like trying to convince the government to think about food and training those fuckin' ungrateful chefs up, too. A thankless task. And I guess its also good to see him act like a human being and swear a little. And I know its not cool to say you have respect for the Oliver, but hell, you can't deny he's trying to do something to get our food back on track.

"I saw its mother!"... Forget the fuckin' deadly-dull, horrifically preachy Exorcist. Really. Anyone who says its the pinnacle of horror is deluding themselves (the pinnacle of real horror in case you were wondering is anything with Vannessa Feltz, but I wouldn't advise you to watch anything like that for entertainment). The Omen is where its at. I love this film and having just watched it again, I have to say nothing beats a creepy child, nothing beats Grrregry Peck running from the devil dogs and nothing beats PATRICK TROUGHTON (who spends a lot of time shouting and hence the caps) as the mad and drug addled priest. Few films still scare me. The Shining is one ("Come and play with is... forever and ever...") - just don't watch the Stephen King approved Mini Series which is appallling - and the Omen is another. But why, I ask myself, do I still have this compulsion to go see the new Amityville starring Ryan "Van Wilder, Shite Liasion" Reynolds?

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now

Au Revoir

Russel

Well...

Mes Amis

Ahem... Well, I wasn't actually going to announce the secret suprise agent news until the papers were signed, sealed and delivered but the contract's on its way so unless something goes disastrously wrong between now and the pen scribbling that obscene mess of a signature on the paper, then yes I do have an agent. Still have work to do on that first novel, though, so it may be a while before I can boast of my one pound advance or whatever it will be.

Smells Kitchen... Fuckin' reality shows... Becs may complain about Masterchef but at least they show you people cooking - - this is just big brother with stupid hats and Angus fuckin' Daeyton. And, more than that, Masterchef had that fantastic contenstant who made avacado ice cream for top critics without ever having tried it himself!

Anyway, mes amis, that's all for now

Au Revoir

Russel

just to show there is actually 2 of us here....

Sorry , the brunt of the postings appear to have been russ.
Well, how drunk was I on saturday night people? go on..... yep right again! very.
I was suck- skittles- out- a- weirdo's- mouth drunk.
But you don't need to know about that. I'll leave that for my secret blog that freinds and people I might actually want to talk to me again don't read.
I actually came on to say 'what a fucking blinder!!!!' to russ. our favorite blogger these parts cos the jammy fucker has actually managed to.........GET AN AGENT!!!!!!! Russ, a bona fide author he is. What a fucking star. So well done to him I'm sure you'll all agree!

Just because I can't believe it

Mes Amis

Another quickie... but don't worry cos we got all the time in the world... Really, seriously, these guys can't be for real... can they?...

Au-revoir

Russel
(PS, if anyone really has to try this thing I take no fuckin' responsibility - - but do come back and let me know if I become a name to rival that of Willy Shakespeare)

"Currently travelling on the fucking coach trip..."

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Attack of the Space Brocolli

Mes Amis

Bring a candle... So who the fuck were you? Raise your hands, you miserable sods! Admit your sins. Who were the fools who didn't watch the amazing, wonderful, absolutely pant-wettingly scary Darkplace? I mean, Garth Marhenghi is the master of the macabre, a dream-weaver, a fabulist... And Darkplaces deserves to come back to TV... We need more than six episodes... I need more Sanj, more Dagless, more of Dean Learner's Oscar Worthy acting... Channel fucking four, get off your arses! Quit thinking you're the new channel five. Porn has its place, as does reality TV but stuff like Darkplaces, its special, its unique, its fantabulous... Well, at least there's a DVD coming soon... I don't want to mourn this show... if CH4 don't want it, surely someone must have a place for the most fabulously subversive supernatural drama ever made...

Oh really, Marjorie, I can't believe you haven't read the book... Philip, pass the Merlot, will you?... I have nothing against Dan Brown. He's made his money. And I haven't read his books. But by Christ, the people who buy them irritate me... I know normal people do read them (Beccy for one) but the ones who really piss me off are all the poseurs who want to get in on the controversy and discuss it over wine because it makes them sound sophisticated... They probably drink fucking Merlot, too! But anyway, at last the real secret of the Da Vinci Code has been revealed... And does it come as a surprise those bastards among us jealous of Brown's success? Well, we'd like to think not...

Anyway, mes amis, its back to the real world for now. Until next time

Au Revoir

Russel