My Condition Is In The Same Condition As Yesterday, It Turns Out

I've scoured all the online pregnancy and birth sites, but nowhere does it say that a good way to stimulate labour is to watch a succession of witty, sparky, visually-gorgeous films in which a deadbeat loser becomes accidentally embroiled in a criminal plot through a case of mistaken identity - with hilarious consequences.

I saw that as no reason not to give it a try, however, which is why Mr BC and I recently dug out both The Big Lebowski (which I'd never seen before) and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (which I had).

Now obviously there's nothing I can tell the highly pop-culture-literate readers of this blog about The Big Lebowski that they don't already know, and what with film criticism being very low on my list of skillz, there's nothing much more I can say about Kiss Kiss Bang Bang that I didn't say last time.

So I'm just going to point out that both films have excellent soundtracks, and here to demonstrate that fact is one track from each, which - if you don't have them already - I thoroughly encourage you to download and enjoy at your leisure:


From Kiss Kiss Bang Bang:

Felix Da Housecat - Silver Screen Shower Scene (mp3)
(Buy from Amazon)

From The Big Lebowski:

Kenny Rogers and the First Edition - Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In) (mp3)
(Buy from Amazon)


In the meantime, I'll just go back to waiting for the contractions to start...

Patroclus And Mr BC Discuss...Incunabula

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

PATROCLUS and MR BC are watching woeful climate-change disaster movie The Day After Tomorrow. The film's young heroes are holed up in the New York Public Library, weathering the sudden onset of the new Ice Age.

YOUNG HERO: I found a copy of the Gutenberg Bible downstairs, in the rare books section.

MR BC: Rubbish. The Gutenberg Bible is in the British Library. Where it belongs.

ME: Surely it belongs in Gutenberg.

MR BC (charitably overlooking the fact that he is clearly going out with the middle-class Jade Goody): I think it's called that because it was made by a Mr Gutenberg.

ME: Well then...er...in Germany somewhere.

MR BC (consulting Wikipedia): Hm, it says there are actually 48 copies, in libraries around the world.

ME: I suppose that was kind of the point of the whole enterprise.

MR BC: What was?

ME: To have more than one copy.

MR BC: Apparently one of them *is* in the New York Public Library. Bugger.

On screen, a wave of super-cooled air descends from the troposphere, causing a skyscraper to turn instantly into a massive block of ice.

ME: I think you've uncovered the only realistic plot point in this entire film.

Patroclus And Mr BC Watch...The Movies

INT. BEDROOM - MORNING

PATROCLUS and MR BC are in bed, squinting at a tiny laptop screen, upon which is playing a video of culty new science-fiction film 'Cloverfield', which an anonymous person has charitably videoed in a cinema (or 'theater', as Americans call them, and let's face it this was probably an American cinema - or 'theater' - as Cloverfield isn't out here yet, or is it, I don't know, I haven't actually been to the cinema since January 2006, because of the fear) and then uploaded to the interwebs for the viewing benefit of the poor deprived citizens of Region Two.

(Once, in my more Web 2.0-enthusiastic days, I wrote a gushing little article about how watching badly pirated torrents in bed on one's laptop was THE GLORIOUS FUTURE OF ENTERTAINMENT. I now concede that the format may have some flaws.)

Anyhow, we're about 20 minutes in, and our viewing reactions are starting to diverge somewhat:

MR BC: Ooh, wow, look at that.

PATROCLUS: What is it, some sort of monster?

MR BC: It's a giant alien, cool.

PATROCLUS: Pfft. This would never happen in real life.

MR BC: That's why they call it science fictio- oh, never mind.

It's Too Hot To Write...

...so here's a poster for the most terrifying and yet the cutest motion picture Hitchcock ever made:


(Elements of the above artwork may be attributable to my very talented little brother.)

Life Imitates Ghostbusters

I can't help but feel that the Fabulous New Business Division that LC and I have been setting up is an exact mirror of the entire plot of Ghostbusters.

A metaphorical spook appeared in a notional municipal library in January, and by March we'd become convinced that all hell was about to break loose. We've even made an advert. It starts running next week.

But for now, everything is very quiet. Too quiet. A typical conversation in the office might go like this:

ME: LC, any calls?

LC: No.

ME: Any messages?

LC: No.

ME: Any customers?

LC: No, Dr. Patroclus.

ME: Type something, will you; we're paying for this stuff!

Still, I'm pretty sure something wildly unorthodox is going to happen any day now. I've even armed myself with a new pair of Converse and the latest Husky Rescue album in preparation for the coming Social Media Armageddon.

Anyway, while we're waiting for Zuul to manifest in the spanking new office fridge, please help yourselves to our super tap-along theme song:


Ray Parker Jr vs Public Enemy - Bring The Noise (m4a)
[Buy from Amazon]


Now back to cataloguing my collection of spores, moulds and fungus...

A Short Post About Films

'I know,' said the lovely Mr BC, 'let's watch All Known Films In Which A Body Part Is Severed And Then Comically Mislaid, And In Which A Large Spider Also Gets On A Woman.'

And so it came to pass that last night we watched low-budget Brit-horror-action-comedy Severance, and high-budget Raymond Chandler homage Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. And both of them were great.

Everyone must see Severance, for not only is it surprisingly gripping and yet also pleasingly funny, and not only is Danny Dyer very likeable in it, and not only does a cute blonde chick get to smack up baddies with a big stick, but it was also written by one of us, namely a blogger, namely the mighty James Moran. And a fine job he has done too.

Also I liked Kiss Kiss Bang Bang because it has good colours. And because someone mentions a talking monkey that comes from the future and only says 'ficus', which is the best line in a film ever.

You can see why I don't really do film reviews.

Forty-Eight Hours Earlier

There are many sensible reasons why I should have found it difficult to get out of bed and go to work on Monday. Some of them are as follows:

1. It was cold.

2. It was dark.

3. It was raining.

4. I'd just come back from holiday.

5. The bed was nice and warm.

6. Also, there was a very attractive man in it.

7. My laptop was still broken.

8. I had a thrilling article to write about internal helpdesk systems for banks.


However, none of these things was going to prevent me from springing from the bed at 6am like a newborn gazelle and embracing the promise and joy of the first day back at work. Oh no. But I hadn't really bargained for reason number nine:


9. Fear of zombies.


I probably shouldn't have watched the first twenty minutes of 28 Days Later on Sunday evening. Then I wouldn't have spent the whole of Sunday night having terrible dreams about being chased across Turnham Green by the living dead and (as if that wasn't scary enough!) divebombed by zombie lapwings.

By the time the alarm went off I was still terrified, and refused to leave the flat before it got light, lest I be pursued along Chiswick High Road by shuffling yummy mummies and their undead tots.

Tonight I shall watch Season Two of the O.C., and pray that I don't have dreadful nightmares about being hounded by hordes of skinny comic book geeks sporting faintly subversive indie-band t-shirts.

Although, on second thoughts, that might not be so terribly bad...

Neologorrhoea

Warning - extreme pretentiousness follows:

When I was in the fifth form, I thought it would be fun to invent a new word and see how quickly it would spread round the school. As you can see, my notion of fun was a bit different from that of most of my schoolmates, who generally preferred drinking gin in the woods, sniffing tippex thinners in bed and smoking out of the dormitory window. (Not all at the same time).

In your classic American High School Movie terms, my level of popularity and influence at school was roughly on a par with the nerdy girl in Heathers who Winona Ryder plays croquet with after everyone else is dead, so why I thought anyone would adopt my new word is beyond me. But I gave it a go.

My chosen word was "shmick", which sounds to me now like it should mean something in Yiddish (anyone?) but at the time I 'coined' it, it was supposed to mean 'arty and pretentious'. My dissemination strategy involved saying 'shmick' at seemingly appropriate junctures and within earshot of powerful and influential people, and writing it on as many things as possible, the better to impress it into the minds of my schoolmates.

Despite all my best efforts, I only observed the word 'shmick' being uttered once in the wild, and by this time it had assumed a secondary connotation of 'yuk, that's disgusting'. Frankly I was very disappointed with the whole outcome, and moved swiftly on to a new endeavour, which was probably writing an Abstract Expressionist play about Matt Johnson out of The The being sick on a cross-channel ferry.

I'd like to say that now I'm a functioning adult I'm not nearly as tiresome as the teenage me, but actually I am. I know this because of the unholy sense of excitement I got when I realised the terrible - and seemingly largely untapped - power of the Technorati Tags for tracking the invention and uptake of new words.

Tagging lets you summarise what your blog post is about in a few keywords, so that other people can find your posts when they search on those words. Not many people seem to be using tags yet, which is possibly why, in the entire history of blogging, only me and an Australian chap called Cam Pegg have ever used the term 'mashed potato' to tag a blog post. On the other hand, it could just be that no one else blogs about mashed potato quite as much as me and my new potato purée-loving friend Cam.

But when *everyone* starts using tags, I'm quite looking forward to the merry hell that will break out as irritating people like me attempt to coin and spread new words just for the personal glory of inventing one that sticks.

In the 'real' world, it's hard to establish who first coined a given word or phrase. There has to be written evidence, and the written evidence has to be dated, and attributable to a specific individual. But in blogworld, everything is written, dated and attributable to a specific individual. So if you've got a fancy new word or phrase, this is probably the best place to 'claim' it. And if you write it as a tag, all you need to do is click on it to see a) if anyone's used it before, and b) how many other people have used it since.

Ooh, the power!

Last week, for example, the Economist invented the word 'womenomics'. Eight days later, is the word 'womenomics' catching on? Well, sort of, but I just love how easy it is to find out.

Taxonomy fans beware: it's going to get very, very messy.


UPDATE: And as if to prove some kind of point, my own 'neology' tag brought me to this post, which explains it all much better, and with fewer references to mashed potato.


tags: tagging | neology | folksonomy

This Is Not A Meme

It seems I've been tagged all the way from Thailand by the lovely Tim from Cultural Snow. Gosh, how far the internet's tentricles reach, eh?

The game with this one is to think of the Ten Best Films ever, then scrap that list, and list your Ten Favourite Films instead. For which, phew, quite frankly. I'm no film buff, so I'd have no chance of creating a list of Best Films Ever. But favourites, now, that I can do.

My film appreciation criteria are more or less the same as my music appreciation criteria: it's mainly to do with the words. Spiky, witty dialogue, that's what I like*. So here, in no particular order, are my Ten Favourite Films, with bonus facetious commentary:

1. Withnail and I: Yes, yes, I know, say what you like, but there's never been a more perfectly quotable film, ever. Every line a classic. *And* it's British. Hurrah!

2. Amélie: A friend and I were discussing at the weekend why it is that France produces brilliant films but execrable pop music. We came to the conclusion that it's because the French are just too spookily comfortable with their own emotions. They may be, but we Brits aren't, and that's why I can never quite establish why this film makes me cry so much. Also, it's so pretty to look at that I've got a poster of it in my bedroom. It's a bit like sharing a two-man dormitory with Audrey Tautou, and she never turns the light off, which is quite annoying.

3. Ed Wood: Zombies! Aliens! Bela Lugosi! A giant inanimate octopus! A cross-dressing Johnny Depp in an angora sweater! The best dialogue of any film that isn't Withnail & I! What more do you need?

4. Ghostbusters: My unseemly love of geeks was almost entirely formed by Dr Egon Spengler. "I collect spores, moulds, and fungus." Ooh, baby.

5. Lost In Translation: Because any film that has the Jesus and Mary Chain on the soundtrack gets my vote.

6. Memento: I could claim to admire it for its sheer cleverness and technical innovation and all that, but really it's probably something a bit more straightforward to do with Guy Pearce. Moving on...

7. A Knight's Tale. We don't really have to talk about why I like this one, do we? Oh, alright then. More attractive men per square inch of celluloid than any other film, ever. Paul Bettany as a periodically naked Geoffrey Chaucer? ("Chaucer's the name, writing's the game" etc.) Has to be a winner.

8. A Beautiful Mind. Maths geeks and secret codes - only two of my favourite things ever! I wanted this all to be true soooo much that I can only watch it up to halfway. Russell Crowe hideously miscast. Paul Bettany sadly remains fully clothed throughout. Never mind.

9. Sleepy Hollow: Excellent comedy turn from the boy Depp, doing his best Withnail impression. He's so clearly a comic actor that I don't know why anyone ever bothers asking him to do serious stuff.

10. Swingers: It's cool, it's funny, it's got some cracking dialogue, and Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau are just great.

God, that was awful. Anyone else want a go?


* Although now I've made the list, it seems that I like attractive men almost as much as I like spiky, witty dialogue. Tsk, whatever would Seven of Nine say?


tags: films | johnny depp | bill murray | ghostbusters

That's No Typo, That's A Space Station

This blog probably leaves the casual reader with the impression that I am a feckless waster, incapable of turning my mind to anything more sophisticated than the purchase of inappropriate footwear, the consumption of Philip Morris Corp.'s finest produce and the relevance of Nick Cave's lyrics to my own personal circumstances.

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. In my professional life, my dedication to creating outstanding marketing copy for the technology industry is unsurpassed (or so it says here on my bio).

Now I'm not going to mention any names, but some clients are more picky about their copywriters' stock-in-trade than others. Today I was treated to a briefing from one big technocorp about the correct use of grammar and punctuation. About halfway through, the speaker flashed up a slide showing the opening credits of Star Wars.

Speaker: "See here, after 'A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away' - there are clearly four dots. Dot dot dot dot. This is wrong. An ellipsis should only have three dots. Write that down."

Audience Member: "I think one's a star."

Well, it made me laugh.

Crushed

Prime-time, plasma-screen viewing of my newly-delivered Heathers DVD last night elicited the following observations:

That crush I had on teen-era Christian Slater? *So* over.

That crush I had on teen-era Winona Ryder? That's so over, too.

THE DIVINE MS P: It's amazing that even in 1988 they show the teachers smoking in the staffroom.

ME: I was allowed to smoke at my desk in 1998 at [insert name of top five global PR agency here] - but only after 6pm.

MR P: I was allowed to smoke at Pontin's - but only Superkings.

Which made me laugh a lot.