The Auld Alliance

Oh sweet sister Liberty, tell me why do you weep?

When the world around you is silently asleep

Although we haven't spoken in far too many years

When I hear your pained cries, I too shed tears

Your rampant lion cannot relate, I'm too far across the sea

Why are your children dying, just because they are free?

Your blood has been spilled, your tears have turned red

But you still stand tall, no matter how much you have bled

I'll always stand by you, your brother draped in saltire

And defend your freedom, to parody and satire.

I don't pretend to know why, I just can't comprehend

However through this auld alliance, I'm always your friend.

KRS

Fear and Agony in the Sky

There is a certain charm to flying in a low-budget airplane. Don’t get me wrong, it can be hellish to be strapped in a tin rocket full of recycled human breath. The cramped seats that is full of tourists, the poor or just simple idiots, always talking, chewing, snoring or complaining. There is no pretence however; everybody knows what they are in for the minute they purchased the ticket.

I sit awaiting takeoff in the aisle seat, relived after narrowly avoiding missing the departure.  The stewardesses, a far cry from the beautiful ones that we all secretly hope to marry, start their routine safety demonstrations with no enthusiasm and just a touch of sadness.  I ignore them and instead focus on the rows of indistinguishable faces that surround me.  Inane and stupid, the flap their gums and let out air without saying anything with any meaning. Did you see the rack on her? Three euro’s for a coke?!  Schadenfreude might be frowned upon, but I genuinely feel better being surrounded by these morons.  

The aircraft rumbles its intentions to take off and soon we are rolling down the runway. Almost instantly, we are propelled and flung into the sky. Within seconds, the ever distant buildings, roads and landmarks are but spots and we see only clouds. Soon, the light indicating you must wear your (utterly pointless) seatbelts turns off and seemingly everybody rushes up to go to the restroom. Either they all took an oath to keep their bladders full till exactly this moment, or this particular toilet is the heaven of places to urinate.

We soon encounter turbulence and the shoddily built, oversized firework is rattled around with ease.  I hear a deep, controlled breathing and turn to my left to see an unremarkable yet still very attractive woman of similar age. She is bellowing out every breath and her eyes are clamped shut.  She is terrified. I reach out and unobtrusively as possible, lightly tap her shoulder.  She partly turns her head in a manner that seems to be of shame. “Are you alright?” I ask as politely as possible. She simply nods her head ever so slightly. I sense she only wants privacy, so I flash a caring smile and leave her be.

Around fifteen minutes into the flight, what I had been dreading starts to kick in and I am inundated with a sharp pain surging through my skull before lingering right behind the eyes. I can feel my ear canals succumb to the changing pressure and my body automatically starts to quiver and shake.  My teeth all individually feel a shooting pain, although not in any specific order and in random intervals. My jaw feels like it is being compressed or crushed. My nose is probably the only thing on my head not paralyzed by pain.

A single, quiet yet devastatingly loud internally, popping noise is heard in my right ear. Everything else that hurt is so insignificant to what I feel now.  I quickly grasp it to check if it has started bleeding. It has. It flows with the same viscosity as a nosebleed but not with the same intensity or amount.  If this was the first time experiencing this, I would pass out or at least shriek and scream.  This is not my first time dealing with this torment and there is no quick fix or cure, you just have to ride it out till the end.

An intrusive hand enters my private hell and touches my twitching arm. It’s embarrassing and impossible to explain to the stewards what is happening and how utterly powerless they are to help. My pride yells at me not to make eye contact with them, lest they see me crying and in my most vulnerable moment.  I cannot ignore them however, so I barely crane my head upwards to see them. The intruder wasn't a steward but the girl across the aisle.  She is staring straight ahead and beads of sweat start to collect above her brow. Her hand was sprawled out into aisle palm up, like a waiter expecting a tip. I know right away what she means and thread my hand into hers. Immediately she clamps her fingers tight, turned slightly and gives me the faintest of smiles.

No words need to be spoken. We are just two lonely souls suspended in the air, one overcome with fear and one overcome with agony. Two complete strangers but no other stranger on the plane cares about us, they always look out of circus curiosity and quickly dart their eyes when we notice.  For the next half hour, there will only be us, both there to sympathise and distract.

She could be my soul mate, not that I believe in that nonsense, but what a perfect way to meet someone. The problem is, inevitably, everything is downhill from here. We don’t even know each other’s names and that is absolutely fine by me.  When the plane lands, we will go our own way and hopefully never see each other again. The romance of the moment we shared will stay perfect forever.

It would take a great girl to even come close to having the same profound effect that she has on me.

KRS

The River

The river so still that it does not flow
It's waves stand alone and do not go
Anywhere, anyhow.

The waters are barren, as dry as the sand
It ripples alone and does not understand
Anything, anyhow

The river it leads afar out to the ocean
It moves there without making a motion
Anytime, anyhow

The tide has no depth, it is entirely shallow
It is covered by an all encompassing shadow
Anybody, anyhow

The river it appears, every time we all grieve
It's impossible to drown with no need to breathe
Anyway, anyhow.

KRS

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa

Steve Coogan's Alan Partridge character is something of a British national icon. At the least a cult national icon. Debuting on BBC Radio 4's On The Hour as a bumbling, incompetent sports correspondent before transiting to TV on the excellent show Knowing Me, Knowing You With Alan Partridge and then the highly-praised I'm Alan Partridge.  Now in 2013, the character is adapted to the big screen in Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa.

 

As a fan of the TV shows, I went into this with pretty high expectations, not helped by the critical praised being heaped upon it. Haven't seen anything from director Declan Lowney except his work on Father Ted, which is cause for optimism though.

 

Anyhoo, straight into the plot. Since it's pretty minimal, I'll let some obscure site/Wikipedia to summarise it for me (Lazyness ladies and gentlemen)

 

"After being fired from North Norfolk Digital when it is taken over by a multinational conglomerate and renamed Shape, a disgruntled DJ returns to the station during an office party with a gun and holds the station hostage. The only person he'll talk to during siege negotiations is fellow DJ Alan Partridge who, as he quickly becomes the public and media face of the siege, sees an opportunity to stage a triumphant return to the limelight. "

 

A-ha!

 

A nice and simple story, one that could easily be condensed into a 30 minute TV episode but one that I'm glad they stuck with. No going to America or cheap gimmicks like that, "Alan out of water" tales would of been terrible.

 

The cast is solid, with Coogan on top form as the titular character and Colm Meany (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Die Hard 2) is fantastic as antagonist Pat Farrell. Felicity Montagu  returns from the I'm Alan Partridge series as his unfortunate personal assistant and she does a fine job here too, producing a few laugh out loud moments on her own, somewhat different from the series where she is the butt of jokes. Reprising their roles also are Simon Greenall as Michael, Alan's troubled Geordie friend, who thankfully gets a more limited screen time than the show, letting the jokes pop up intermittently through the film rather than oversaturating them, it allows for more hits than misses. Phil Cornwell reprises rival DJ Dave Clifton but doesn't get much presence.

 

No reunion for Lazarus aka Debonair aka Bangkok :(

 

Although all the winks and nods are great, I am a little disappointed by the lack of Knowing Me, Knowing You references.  Even a little cameo from Glen Ponder would of been fantastic. Ah well, bit of a nit-pick really. There is zero Abba music though and that sucks.

 

Declan Lowney's direction is fine, it occasionally flutters into TV territory but it's well shot and well lit so I ain't gonna bitch and moan. Whether it's him or simply the script, they handle the drama and emotional scenes well, they don't feel juxtaposed in and the contrast between the humour and the serious is never jarring.

 

Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa might not translate as well for audiences outside the UK but it's a well-written, genuinely funny film that (barely) escapes the curse of TV-comedy being turned into badly adapted movies. It occasionally suffers from some mistakes though, obviously some jokes are a miss, it's take a while for the pace of the plot to move along as it takes a while to establish the characters (and style of humour) for those unaware of the franchise. Still, it's hilarious and I recommend it highly.

 

79/100 - Entertaining and funny movie that not only reaffirms the British stereotypes of comedy but openly embraces it. 

This Is 40

This is 40 is director Judd Apatow's spin-off sequel to his 2007 comedy hit Knocked Up, with Paul Rudd and Leslie Mann reprising their roles as the two recently turned 40 year married couple who fucking hate each other and are all round terrible, terrible people.

That descended into hate rather quickly didn't it? But it's pretty much Apatow's recent outputs in a nut-shell. Hate coated outer layer with a nugget of enjoyability at the center. I'm not ashamed to admit that I enjoy some of Judd's films, as immature and as low-brow as it was, I got such a kick out of The 40-Year Old Virgin (Dude is super insecure about being 40), Superbad was relatable and fun in a stupid way, Funny People as Apatow's peak, a genuinely funny film that I enjoy the fuck out of. Even Knocked Up was surprisingly funny, even with Katherine Heigl's best effort to devour the spirit of us all. The succubus of comedy if you will.

The plot is pretty much a re-hash of Knocked Up, with Paul (Paul Rudd) and Leslie (Leslie Mann) coping with both turning forty (who'd of thunk it) and then dealing with the news of un-expected pregnancy, when Leslie gets Knocked Up this time. There is a few loose sub-plots involving father issues and trouble at school with a Tom Petty look-a-like kid. They are completely forgettable though, with no build up or real establishment and a straight jump to the pay-off renders them unnecessary padding.

 

Judd is miserable while being surrounded by cupcakes and flaming sticks of wax - what an asshole 

Still, the core of the plot revolves around Paul and Leslie, and it is genuinely investing themes of dealing with the burden of middle-age, clutching to the last threads of youth and questioning the strength of love and relationships through it all. It's a shame this was all already done, same characters and all, in Knocked Up. It's just been stretched/fleshed out into full length..

Paul Rudd plays an insufferable, immature and selfish man-child (Why I never!) that is such an unlikable character it's actually impressive. I'll cover it more when I review Knocked Up, but he is the pinnacle of the man-child stereotype that has consumed modern comedies. Leslie Mann on the other hand, delivers a strong performance. That should be surprising considering Apatow's knack at writing terrible, terrible female characters but on the other hand, Leslie is Judd's wife so go figure. Their kid's are pretty good too for what it's worth. The rest of the cast is entirely forgettable and if you can remember anybody apart from Megan Fox (who is looking pretty baked throughout her appearance, just sort of there for the pay check while still managing to suck any momentum in the scenes she is in) I'll not only eat my hat, but I'll eat my entire wardrobe (which thankfully consists of just one hat)

Jason Segal and a few of the Knocked Up characters pop in for a brief cameo or two but Rogen/Heigl never show up.I get Heigl not appearing but towards the climax of the film, there is this big birthday party scene and it was a little weird not having them there. Even if it was Rogen cameoing because Heigl was in the toilet after “bad nachos” I don't fucking know, it just would have been good to see, 'specially cause I was sitting there waiting for them to be seen or mentioned the whole fucking movie length.

Megan Fox puts both her talents on show

 

It's weird because for all of the films flaws, it is exactly terrible. It straddles that thin line occasionally but never delves into the depths of eye-gauging awfulness that Adam Sandler's flicks live in. It's not very long, it's steeped in (dated) pop-culture references and delivers very few laughs throughout, yet it will make you smirk occasionally and very rarely you will get a moment that will turn the smile into a chuckle, usually when Chris O'Dowd or Melissa McCarthy delivers a line. I don't know, I'm confused at how much I should dislike this, it's blatant mediocrity should but insulting but time didn't slow down nor did I lose my sanity, so there is that.

This Is 40 is a fine example of mediocrity and of how not to make a sequel. It's bland and un-original yes, but it is also somewhat entertaining. It's a adequate film for a couple to watch (although it may make them question their relationship if they relate to the characters situation and aren't smart enough to realise life won't automatically solve all their deep rooted problems.) but if you haven't already seen it, give this one a miss and just watch Knocked Up instead.

40/100 - A bland inoffensive clone that occasionally threatens to be funny.

Andy Kaufman Should Be Inducted Into The Hall Of Fame

"I'm from Hollywood!"

Andy Kaufman was a comedian, actor, self described "song and dance" man and wrestler. His debut comedy album "Andy and His Grandmother" was released this year, nearly thirty years after his death and it got me reminiscing and revisiting Andy's body of work. I could only come to one conclusion -

It's a farce Andy Kaufman hasn't been inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame.

The WWE Hall of Fame has a "celebrity wing" with the likes of Donald Trump and Drew Carey inducted, it does seem slightly ridiculous to not have the greatest wrestling celebrity crossover ever.

Andy loved Professional Wrestling, he loved kayfabe, the theatrical performance and outrageous gimmicks. Wrestling was a fraud, just like Andy. Kaufman incorporated wrestling woman into his comedy act, proclaiming himself as the "Inter-Gender Wrestling Champion of the World". His gimmick was of an obnoxious, misogynistic celebrity heel,  inspired by the colourful heel gimmicks of wrestlers of the time. The act consisted of offering $1000 for any woman that could pin him, he often employed friends to act as his stooge during the show, such as artist Laurie Anderson. Kaufman racked up a near 400 match undefeated streak defending his belt, not  a bad statistic for the Hall of Fame!

Andy Kaufman wanted to bring the act to a larger audience and approached then-head of WWF Vince McMahon Sr about working together. In an ironic twist of fate, the elder McMahon flat out refused, refusing to bring "show business" into his wrestling product. There was no way of knowing at the time that McMahon Jnr would eventually turn the company into primarily that, a show business, a sports entertainment. Kaufman was well ahead of his time and one man knew it - Jerry Lawler.

Kaufman and Lawler became acquainted through Wrestling photographer Bill Apter and the two quickly went about creating history. With Kaufman flooding the King with homemade heel promos, not unlike the vast majority of promos we get to this day from wrestlers outside WWE/TNA.

The pair's legendary feud culminated in a few matches, the most famous being when Lawler piledrived Kaufman for the victory, only to piledrive him again after the bell. Kaufman sustained real neck injuries from the match but greatly exaggerated them, wearing a neck brace and overplaying the injury. When the two appeared on Late Night with David Letterman and descended into a fist fight, they catapulted the feud into the imagination of the masses. Andy understood kayfabe so well, he and Lawler had millions genuinely believe the rivalry to be legitimate. But of course the two were both close friends, both in on the act together.

Even 30 years after his death, Andy's influence in wrestling is huge. He was a pioneer of sports entertainment, a great talker on the mic and all round fantastic heel. He was the epitome of how a celebrity should be involved in wrestling, imagine if it was Kaufman and not Arquette in WCW? Even today, wrestlers such as Joey Ryan still pay tribute Andy with homages.

With Jerry Lawler's recent health scares, there is no better time for him to induct his old friend where he rightfully belongs, the WWE Hall of Fame.

Vote to Keep Andy.

KRS

Premier League Predictions

Predictions up here!

KRS