Posts filed under 'Ian'
I have recently been thinking about how about films are and how they are given sequels to make more money rather than to continue the story. Which is a bit of a shame, for the best trilogies and quadrilogies are ages old now such as Back to the Future, Die Hard (bar Die Hard 4, for the sheer pomposity), the original Star Wars and the Lord of the Rings. What we need is a new idea to bring a new trilogy to the masses, one that’s made for practically nothing and will easily bring in a cool mil or so.
Fast forward to my idea. Three films to encapsulate the feelings and frustrations of the 21st century. Films that you can identify with, that you can sit down and watch for hours on end. Films that make you think and feel and hate and love in equal measures.
Fast forward to my idea then. Three films: Sitting, Walking and Running.
The first film takes into account how backwards-thinking society is and how old ideas are recycled rather than brand new ones being created. It’d be three hours of a woman sat on a chair.
The second film shows how gradually people are moving into the future but not at the kind of pace that they should be, how meandering life can be, how people get caught up on the little things that they fail to see the big picture. It’d be three hours of a woman walking along a street.
In the final thrilling film we look at how success can easily lead into failure, how people never stop to think about what they’re saying or doing and jump in with both feet first and to hell with the consequences. The result would be a first for the film industry; three hours of a woman running along the street.
I await my Oscars in the post.
September 8th, 2011
Over the weekend myself and my counterpart, Mr Professor R of R & R, were researching some matters of interest and came across this rather striking article from 1951 concerning the Yetiferous Cornicopious or Yeti as they are now commonly referred to as.
The Common Yeti
Following the astounding discovery of the skeleton at Ford’s Nook in 1947, the intrepid explorer, Mr Julip Juanoto, has added further to the mystery of the yeti by displaying several of his findings in an exhibition at the Cake Stand in New York. Not only do most of his theories contradict everything that has been seen so far but they take the idea of the yeti and yetis into a completely different direction.
“I no longer want people to refer to them as abominable snowmen because that is a horrible and unfortunately name to have,” explained Mr Juanoto, “it is also entirely incorrect as the yeti is neither made of snow nor a man. The yeti is a construct comprised of wood.”
Yes. The yeti is apparently entirely made of wood.
Mr Juanoto has offered many drawings but not much conclusive evidence to support his statements. His main focus of attention is that nobody has ever really seen the yeti because they are very good at hiding themselves in the forests and woodland areas. All they need to do is stand next to a tree to conceal them and the naked eye can no longer locate them. This then would mean that the skeleton from Ford’s Nook was a fake, if the theory can be proved.
“It is completely codswallop,” demands Thelonius Arkender, who claims to have been chased by a yeti in 1946, “the one that was baying for my blood was at least seven feet tall and covered in woolly fur, like wool. There was no way that sucker was made of wood. If there was only the chance of getting splinters in my mitts then I would have turned and fought the monster. As it happens he had more teeth like the local choir and there was no way I was going to choke at the age of 37.”
So then we will have to leave it to the realm of the imagination, or some hard evidence, to decide which is true.
September 5th, 2011
We are no longer approaching September; we are clearly on its doorstep. If September happens to come out, possibly to check if the milk has been delivered or to see what the weather is like, they will catch us perching on on the step. I will be peering through the letterbox when really all I want to do is run screaming, screaming, screaming into the street and hope that August comes back with a nice cold drink and a pat on the back.
Fat chance though. August hopped town as soon as it could leaving nothing but drizzle and disappointment. “Where’s my summer?” I shout, shaking my fist in the air. It doesn’t look back and it doesn’t care.
So let’s all gather round in a nice circle and look forward to all the things that Autumn has to offer such as conkers, a new television schedule, a chance to wear hats and all those new greatest hits albums close to the big chill at the end of the year.
August 31st, 2011
Having established my empire back in the late 18th century I think it would take a fool the size of Lincolnshire to claim that I wasn’t very good at selling things. I’ve been there through the highs and the lows and now that we’re back in the lows I should pass on some of my knowledge to those who require it. And here it is:
“You can sell anything to anyone with the help of some bears.”
Now we’re not talking some domesticated, Winnie the Pooh sort of bear. What I mean is one of the wilder, more unhinged bears. The ones with the big face and the large paws. Them ones. You get yourself a couple of them and the skys the limit and various other cliches.
Place whatever it is you want to sell inside a rather large cage then put the bears inside the big cage in a small cage. Cover the bears with a fruit-covered blanket to give the impression of space and open the door to allow people in to inspect what you’re trying to sell. If they don’t look interested or if they try to leave you shut the door of the big cage and threaten to unleash the bears unless they buy your product.
Simple and effect, this method can be used over and over for repeated success. Try it; you just might like it.
August 23rd, 2011
I have today, whilst carrying a box, decided that a good idea for a short film would be a man carrying a box. Who is that man? I do not know. What is he carrying in his box? I also don’t know. There are many questions that need answering before Man With A Box can come to fruition. I hope that it does though.
I feel as though we need a project to re-energise the beans and re-group the members. After the collective shambles that was moving Chris into his new flat and how we almost destroyed each other I suppose we should return to what we originally did; wasting our lives on film.
I see a low budget. I see flimsy acting and non-existant scenary other than the streets, and everyone knows the streets come for free. I see it lasting only ten minutes and you both editing it in less than a day. The script is practically written.
Leave it to me; I’ve got this!
August 9th, 2011
Today somebody at work asked the question, “what is winter?”
It’s a good question. For some it sounds like a stupid question but to me I like to address it on all levels, so in order to do so I have written a short poem. I hope you enjoy it.
Winter
What is winter?
Is it just snow? No, it’s not.
It’s more than snow.
DEEP LIKE THE SNOW. I am.
The answers are within me,
Buried, also like the snow.
I will respond to them like echoes
Across snow-ridden clifftops.
Ah. So it is mainly about snow then.
That answers my question.
Winter is snow.
Oh, and Christmas too,
With a smidge of festoons added for good measure.
It came from the heart, so I told the heart to do better next time.
August 8th, 2011
It’s been a while since the last Logical Dreamscape, so you’d expect my subconscious to come back with a belter. Belter is quite a strong word though. Something more apt would probably be, “uh uhhhhhhh huh ah” because let’s face it nothing will ever top the Rachel Stevens dream.
Me, Kev and Marshall are stood in the lobby of a reasonable tall building. We’re all running around like giddy children. When the lift comes down however I’m the only one who gets in; both Kev and Marshall wait for the next one. The lift I’m in is far too small for me so I have to lean over to one side which hurts my neck. Everyone else in the lift is dressed in ballroom attire, all huge gowns and suits and top hats. How a top hat fit into such a small space I’ll never know.
Eventually I reach the floor and get out. It’s a flat where Chris lives but it looks nothing like where he actually lives. It’s one of those studio apartments with only a tiny toilet. All the walls are still painted white. There’s a modest kitchen in the bottom left-hand corner and the living room is in the top left. We all go into the flat. I remark that it must be very handy have a Tesco so close to where he lives. Both Kev and Marshall look at me confused. When we look across to where the kitchen was there is a checkout and a queue of people waiting to buy their shopping. Instead of regular shopping the only items available are bits of clothing and equipment from the emergency services, such as a police riot helmet and a fire extinguisher.
We decide to leave. I almost fall through a hole in the sink but use a scouring pad to save myself.
What does it all mean?!?
August 3rd, 2011
If, like me, you enjoy live music then you will be drawn to places where live music is being played. The size of the venue may differ. The price of the tickets will slide up and down depending on who you’re seeing. There is a constant that remains though wherever you go and whoever you’re with. With live music comes the gig stereotypes. There are many different types that you will come across but for your benefit the main offenders are listed below for your pleasure:
1. Smoochy Couple – so you’re trying to watch and the couple stood immediately in front of you from the point where the band or the artist comes onto the stage right up to the end will slosh and swoon and swap saliva for the entire duration. They’re not there for the music; they’re there to piss you off. If they wanted to sit in the dark they could have saved money and stood in the alley round the back. I might suggest this the next time it happens.
2. Mr Trendoid – he has crap hair, a striped t-shirt and tight jeans on. He will cop off with the most attractive woman in the room. He may even have arranged the gig itself. In a perfect world he would have been glassed on the way in.
3. KERAZY Girls – giddy, young, reeking of perfume and looking like, bless, prototype French prostitutes, these brazen, bronzed and buxom ladies will gather together in large groups within your field of vision. They are the most excited people in the room even though a lot of the time they don’t have a clue who it is they have come to see. It doesn’t matter; they’re there to be seen not to see. It’s the trendiferous factor. They’ve heard of Band A from their clueless friends or read about Band A in NME and, noticing they’re playing soon, purchase tickets. They fling their arms about and push their way to front. Hell, they may even be willing to drop on their knees and offer a blowie. Who knows.
4. Talkative Friends – nobody is expecting you to stay silent like a nun the whole time you’re there, but you will come across two friends who, probably stood just to the side of the smoochy couple, will chat constantly. You will half hear their conversation whilst the band stops one song and starts another. Their heads will duck back and forth, desperate to share something that clearly couldn’t wait until the end of the encore. Occasionally they’ll both laugh, neither one taking in what is happening right in front of them. Their persistence, whilst admirable initially, makes you want to punch them even more after five minutes.
You can’t change anything. No matter what you do they will turn up and they will try to ruin your life. My only advice is to learn to embrace their foibles and accidentally knock their drink over when they’re too drunk to notice.
August 2nd, 2011
So you think you’re safe do you? You think you can handle this harsh, load-bearing world do you? Think you’re up to the test?
Most people in response to this question wouldn’t have been able to muster an answer; they would have fallen down onto their knees and cried into their lunch. Why they would be eating their lunch this late is anyone’s guess. The fact is that we all want to be tough and pretend to be tough but we’re not. What you need is someone watching your back and ding dang doodle noodle if that person isn’t yourself!
Yes. You are the best person to leap to your defence when you run into some trouble. So what will you use? Anything with a point will be confiscated from you as soon as you try to leave your house. You need something a little more nondescript, something that will blend in. Food is a good start, but which? Swordfish is too obvious. Eggs will sting but won’t hold back those would-be should-be probably-are attackers.
We start with the training wheels; Chupa Chups Lollies. Now I know what you’re thinking and yes, it is hard to cope with the stunning mix of looks and charm and wide legs. Lollies are a perfect weapon. Take your hand and open the fingers then insert the round end of a Chupa Chups lolly between the fingers and close. Three instruments of pain are now yours to wield. Don’t bother using the stick ends because they’ll bend too easily. Smack someone in the face or arse or groin with those beauties and they won’t be getting up for breakfast.
Clap your hands. Lesson one over.
July 25th, 2011
Once upon a time there was a lonely old man who lived on a planet all by himself. He would wander the vast sparse landscapes collecting pieces of wrecked star ships and other erroneous metals that littered the floor. By the time the man reached fifty he had a grand total of two thousand tonnes of metal. It was then that he decided he would use some of the metal to build a warehouse to put the rest of the metal in. With only his crude work tools after several weeks the warehouse stood aloft for all the bottom-feeding stench maggots to see, that is if they were less concerned about the tasty, tasty algae used to make stews and sandwiches. The man was surprised he had the strength and the skills to make such a thing, and then wondered what else he could make.
First came the more practical items, such as a sprinkler system, a flagpole and a bath mat. Next, more throwaway devices such as an all-terrain Jeep, a pair of tap-dancing shoes and some pelican bullets. After slogging away for a year the man stood back again to gaze on everything he had built, and there was plenty to see. The most intriguing was a robot he had put together in his free time in-between plenty of moments of soul-searching and bouts of madness. It had arms and legs, a head and limbs, and all that. He hadn’t managed to make it work though and so it stood motionless behind the riot gear and the foot massager.
(to be continued)
July 19th, 2011
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