Wednesday, 20 November 2013

Let's face it democracy is overrated, you can spend all of the electoral cycle carefully going over the environmental policies of each political party weighing up their stances on health, crime and the economy before carefully making your choice.

While next door, someone with little or no interest in politics will go and exercise his democratic right for voting for the party that doesn't have a leader who looks like a cunt.

You only have to look at what ranks as the most popular shows on television or Miley Cyrus, to see that judgement based on popular opinion is a very bad idea.

There is the argument that everyone should have a say in who governs them but that's a load of sweaty gonads too, people don't know what they want.

People demand better public services but don't want to pay a penny of tax, they don't like drunk people fucking up their towns but they don't like expensive alcohol either.

Who should govern us is just another problem that we shouldn't worry ourselves silly especially when there are more important things to worry about.

I propose that the best way to govern is to build a super computer that can process everyone's IQ scores, personalities and qualities and then select the outstanding candidate to be our dear leader.

The result would probably be really surprising but would also eventually be boring, sure, the trains would run on time, the crime rate would fall and test scores would improve but then politics would no longer fill it's more important role, to make everyone feel better by blaming someone else.

However, If we truly have to be complicit in this farce then we should at least try and make it entertaining, the citizens of Toronto had it right when they elected Rob Ford. Off they went to the ballot boxes chuckling away and probably rubbing their hands together as they envisaged their very own live action Chuck Farley movie.

Sure, Rob Ford is an obese lout who doesn't even pretend to know what he's really doing or care for that matter but he is entertaining. He fulfills the true role of a democratically elected politician, to have their hands and head put in the stocks, so we can throw our rotten veg at them.

In the UK, the city of London made a noble attempt with electing Boris Johnson but we all need to do much better. The consequences of voting people for sheer entertainment value can be awful but also hilarious, so let's fill our constituencies with lairy obnoxious drunks and our city councils with the same and really get the most of our politicians.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

In what way, I wonder do the writers of The Daily Mail drift of to sleep and how much effort does it take for them to write their rag with a straight face.Their piece on Ed Miliband's deceased father is an absolute disgrace as is their defiant stance and refusal to apologise. 

For anybody unaware, two days ago, the Mail published a story on Ed Miliband's now deceased father entitled 'the man who hated Britian' and cherry picked a couple of innocuous statements that Ralph Miliband had written in his diary when he was 16.

Apart from the fact that Ralph Miliband SERVED HIS COUNTRY a few groans in the diary of a teenager hardly constitutes a fanatical hatred for a country.

Ralph Miliband was also a marxist, another fact the Daily Mail used to justify that he was an enemy of the state.

Although, I'm not one myself I personally have never understood how aligning oneself to a doctrine of worker's rights, nationalized property and the emancipation of women and people of all colors and creeds isn't patriotic.

But then, it might not be a stretch to think that those at the Daily Mail think that the emancipation of people of all colors and creeds is patriotic when their murky past is called upon.

During the 1930's when a man called Adolf Hitler was rising to power in Nazi Germany, Viscount Rothmere who was the chairman of the Daily Mail couldn't hide his enthusiasm for the prospect of global fascism and the Nazi party.

Rothmere often rallied against "International Jewry" and had been in correspondence with Hitler himself, he made his own views very publicly clear

“Because Fascism comes from Italy, short-sighted people in this country think they show sturdy national spirit by deriding it.”

and he denounced critics of the emerging politic in Germany, saying that they

“have started a clamorous campaign of denunciation against what they call “Nazi atrocities” which, as anyone who visits Germany quickly discovers for himself, consists merely of a few isolated acts of violence.”

There has never been a greater threat to these islands than Nazi Germany
and Britain's very own spineless black shirted turncoats who would have stood on the white cliffs of dover with open arms had the battle of Britain taken an unfortunate turn.

The Daily Mail should apologize not only for the comments it made about Miliband's father but also for it's sympathies toward fascism in the 1930's however don't expect either from these sanctimonious morons.

Monday, 16 January 2012

We Need To Talk About Kevin

Film makers and authors alike have always enjoyed taking pot shots at the percieved facade of the suburban American family.
Ever since the mowing of the green lawns and the proping up of the white picket fences, the families that dwell within them have often been at the mercy of artists.
Whether it has been the escaped convicts of The Desperate Hours (1955) and Cape Fear (1962) that have bullied and tormented or the malfunctions of relationships portrayed in Revoultionary Road (2008) and American Beauty (1998) eroding its values, over the years suburban American families have taken a pasting.
Lynn Ramsey's 'We need to Talk About Kevin' leaves it truly in pieces, the picket fence burnt down, the green lawn torn up and Tilda Swinton's character Eva anxiously scratching red paint off the door.
'We Need To Talk About Kevin' an adaptation of Lionel Shrivers book of the same name, turns motherhood and the family base into the subject of horror. The threat does not come from relationship obstacles or escaped convicts but from the creation of a family member. Kevin (Ezra Miller) torments his mother from the pain of his birth and incessant screams of his infancy until the last time we see him.
Kevin unlike Eva is not a complex character, although there are instances in the film where his actions betray his natural behaviour, it all feels a little contrived. There are moments in the film, particuliarly during Kevin's childhood, where it seems that Kevin's eyes might turn red and his teddy bear might spontaneously combust. It is not always believable or interesting that he can be so rotten to his core when most of the film is portrayed with such arresting realism. The pantomine villany of Kevin is salvaged by the incredible performance of Tilda Swinton as Eva, a character that remains truly ambiguos throughout, her plain expressions hint at a strict coolness but her persistance and care with her son demonstrates her warmth. Swinton's character never gives too much away but the lingering menace of her son stays within her mind through out. 'We Need To Talk About Kevin' is a horror film without suspense,the horror is not impending but ever present. Eva is always immersed in the blood of her son's crimes, from her memory of the squashed tomatoes at the la tomatina festival she went to as a student to the cans of tomato soup that surround her in the supermarket, the horror stays with both Eva and the viewer.
There are several excellent shots that take seemingly pleasant or inocous moments and taints them with a sinister edge, the reflection of Eva's face in bent metal as she gives birth or the herd of ballerinas that surround her. All of this ofset by a notable soundtrack which juxtaposes itself rather than blending in. 'We Need To Talk About Kevin' is both chilling and arresting and only slightly let down by the Omen esque performance of ezra miller.

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

going back...

I'm going back to Korea soon... With a pinch of luck I'll be there in early January or early February but it won't be far away. In all honest, once I'm there... I don't know if I'll ever want to go home.
Korea was magic when I was there in 2010 and most of 2011... it was so different to the monotony of home... the buzzing neon signs... the tall green mountains... the beautiful girls.. the fiery food. I enjoyed every second of it, I savoured every moment... Never in my life was I happier, never in my life did I feel so good. I made wonderful friends with Koreans and foreigners alike, I started to get pretty good at the language and I was running three times a week.

Coming home.. has just confirmed my worst fears.... recession, depression, the mundane and the redundant. The fucking television that just goes on and on and on and on and on. The boring, miserable people who speak in cliche's and retired old turns of phrase. Ask them about meaning and they will look non plussed. Ask them how they are feeling after a night of drinking and their eyes light up. It's sad miserable place with nothing to do... most nights I spend in front of my laptop chewing my fingers. Telling disinterested colleagues about Korea. Only my family and friends I care about it.

Is living in Korea just putting off reality? When I moan about England am I simply throwing my hands in the air about the cards I was dealt or drew for myself ?
Alot of people in Korea (foreigners) think of Korea as a refuge point, a place where those who can't or won't fit in back home are settled. Korea is a place to run to for some folks. I met some really cool people in Korea first time round, there were some wall flowers, party animals too. There are also people in Korea who really seem like they couldn't fit in anywhere, obnoxious, oafish people that bothered everyone, even well meaning, ultra polite koreans.

I don't know where I fit in with it all and I don't know if I'm running away from somewhere or running too somewhere. I feel like I'm made to feel guilty because I feel happy. An easy life is a false life. I don't know why I feel like that, in Korea I didn't borrow any money. I didn't get a loan... I got a free apartment but that is what was offered by my work. I taught kids (which I loved) and I worked very hard for 5 days a week. It still feels like cheating.

It feels like cheating because when I watch the news I watch my country creaking over the edge, I see unemployment figures soaring and I know that with a degree and a clean criminal record, I can escape the monotony and the prospect of a painful jobless adulthood.

Maybe it's because I dont value my degree or because I don't think it's much of a challenge living on planet mars.

I want to go back to Korea and I want to do the best possible job I can.
I want to make money and save money.
I want to be there for a long time and I want to feel good about it.

Wednesday, 30 December 2009


Have this nagging idea about a tv series/book thing, about someone trying to get famous (Yes,I know there's a famous musical called Fame) but the series/book would have pretty dark undertones.

Two ideas that I've been fooling around with are an opening passage or piece of dialogue and an idea I had about a Comedian who kills people in order to tell tasteless jokes about their deaths.

The Opening passage/dialogue piece would go something like this

"Andy Warhol once said that everyone would be famous for 15 minutes but he didn't tell everyone what they would be famous for. I guess you don't really have a say in the matter, I mean what is it that your going to become famous for? Are you gonna be the lead singer of a band or write a children's book about a dog who can travel through time? Everyone could live with that kind of fame. I always wonder how it's going to strike me, am I gonna end up winning an Oscar? Or I am gonna get the kind of fame no-one wants, like being one of 10 poor barstards killed in an aircrash or ending up like one of those sad cunts who find a potato shaped like Mary Magdalen or do I end up living in a town with 100 people who have the share the same fucking name or some shit like that. Everyone was going to be famous at least for 15 minutes but you can be famous for walking around Sainsbury's with a shotgun, at this point in time that's not the kind of fame I wanted"

I also have amateur porn in my mind...I think there's something hilarious about amateur porn.

I would take some themes from Alain De Button's 'Status Anxiety' I think there are some excellent themes to be discussed within that work.

I would use it as an opportunity to talk about how our desire for fame is really our desire for love and attention.

I would talk about social evolution how people once known as 'unfortunates' are now known as 'tramps' or 'the homeless'

Monday, 14 December 2009


I got up at 5.30 am this morning, my body clock has been twisted up due to late finishes and an inability to go to bed.
There was a power cut around 6.00, I had been reading the "the rough guide to South Korea" before everything turned black.
It's been over 2 months since my ex-girlfriend went to Australia, I must admit I feel better, feelings of grief were replaced by feelings of loneliness which were replaced a feeling of resentment. Although my general mood is better and I dwell far less on it than I had been, I don't think I could have a normal conversation with her.
Where a week ago I would have told her how I missed her and loved her, this week I would be pretty rude. I suppose this is how one deals with loss, one just tries to apply a mind set that they are comfortable with but I must say I don't miss her much anymore.

I feel somewhat stagnant at the moment, all my studies officially ended at the end of September and the results of which were revealed at the end of November. I plan to go to Korea next year but I often find myself consumed by nagging doubts, that I can't handle living away for so long, that I'll just do a midnight run, that I'll struggle to fit in, struggle to teach, maybe normal things for any prospective English teacher.

I am working many hours over the christmas holidays, I have found that chewing gum is a great stress reliever and also stimulates the brain. I don't know if there is any evidence in these claims but I would swear by the stuff for busy shifts!

I pretty much write this blog for myself but for those who are interested I work in a bar which has been the case for around two years.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009


I want you to remember this.
I want you to remember how this felt when you sat nested in your large black coat, drunk and tired staring at the empty branches across the road that cracked and split the sky.
I want you to remember your insides.
I want you to remember how you rocked back and forth and how you told yourself "This is hard, this is hard, this is so hard."
I want you to remember how half of you felt like it peeled off the same way the bright leaves of summer trees did.
You should know that you cried as you wrote this, you listened to Into Dust by Mazzie Star and you tried to drain yourself of every tear that was left in you.
I want you to know how fucking lonely you felt and how helpless.

It is 12 months from now, I am seeing my grandfather without his shirt for the first time, they have attached him to an array of wires and tubes, numbers on screens that do not make sense to me surround him.

It is 11 months from now, I am speaking to Darren in Havana and talking with him, asking him when he is due to start working where I do.

It is New Years Day, I am sat in a hotel lobby with Vicky, Jade and Darren, we are drunk and drinking tea, I insist on going home but I stay. Earlier I had asked Darren what Vicky's story was.

It is January, I am at the beach staring out at wind turbines, it is late in the evening.

It is 5 weeks ago I am sitting in my room, and I am crying over her for the first time.

now February, she will tell me how she feels in ways that I will not be able to comprehend, we will kiss for the first time.

We will agree that it is weird. We will not stop.

March and we make love for the first time, she tells me how comfortable she is with me. I feel the same.

It is a month from now and I am telling her I will never speak to her again, she is crying.

It is May and we are in London, we are lost.

we are in Norwich walking around with neon sunglasses. I fall in love with her.

It is September we are sitting on the train she is giving me my birthday gifts, I know she is leaving soon.

It is yesterday I am rocking back and forth on a wall telling myself how hard this feels.