Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Dirty little scummers

They're everywhere. I am up on my high-horse about them because one recently tried to mug me to fund his smack habit.

It happened when I was using a cashpoint: I noticed a guy was standing too close to me. Then I went to cross the road and he started to follow me. So I turned around and went into a nearby shop, he went back to standing by the cashpoint. I went out again to cross the road and he started to follow me again. At this point I got a little bit concerned.

But how could I tell he was trouble? Well, you know, you just can. Now, I am not generally a believer in physiognomy but this guy had chipped, weird-ass teeth, a Pete Doherty complexion and most telling of all, a really small head. Seriously, it was freakishly tiny and covered in ginger fuzz. It looked like he was balancing an orange on his shoulders.

Also, I happened to see him getting chucked out of his house (or hovel or whatever) by his misses a few days previously. She had just abandoned him by the local shops - they were having a blazing row and she told him not to come back home.

By a strange coincidence, they were outside a greengrocer. Maybe she's met someone with a more exotic piece of fruit for a head. Possibly papaya. Maybe melon. Could even be custard apple. Ho ho fucking ho.

But anyway, he started following me a second time and my army training kicked in. My computer game training, anyway. I spun around and looked him in the eye. At least I assume it was the eye, but it could have just been a Del Monte sticker.

"Alright mate?" I said as confidently as I could manage.

"Wsfugguritum" he replied, turning around and going back to the cash point.

Fucking yeah, score one for law and order! Hooray! You been told, orange head. They call me the fruit knife and I'm gonna take your life, squish you up and show you to your wife. I'm the smoothie maker and I'm coming to juice you to a pulp. Don't mess with me, motherfucker. I made my way home, glancing backwards regularly.

It should be noted that this was a very risky strategy, not to be tried unless you don't mind being stabbed in the brain with HIV-infected syringes. I mean, I got lucky, but in retrospect it would have been a better idea to go in the shop and call the police. But we're all dead clever with hindsight, right?

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Boring little notice

So far the timings of our posts have been a little haphazard, so we have decided to try to post a new article every Tuesday (edit: or Wednesday).

On this subject, we received this lovely letter the other day -

"God bless you! The regularity that MattBlackSpeaks brings has given me extra confidence. Thanks to you I can live life to the full again! I will definitely recommend you to all my friends. " - Mrs DeFicate, Tennessee, USA

Glad to be of service, ma'am.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

I have a real weakness for crap horror films.

Some people like chocolate. Others like cigarettes. Still others enjoy injecting crack cocaine directly into their brainstems and slashing wildly with katanas in shopping centres. But hey, it takes many colours to make a rainbow.

I have just been watching a British horror called Cold & Dark, and it is the best one so far. It had everything. Bollock-twistingly bad acting? Check! Every scene using an 'abandoned dockyard' backdrop, negating the need to build any sets? Yep! Massively too many phallic references? Loads!

The plot is more or less as follows. Coppers Mortimer Shade and John Dark (I swear I am not making this up) are working together when Shade is killed and gets infected with a spirit called the Grail. He promptly turns into a blood-sucking monster with a whopping great toothy snake thing that comes out of his hand to eat people's hearts. Dark doesn't seem to mind and the two of them get into some extra-curricular retributive justice, killing off crims left, right and centre.

But soon, drippy Dark starts to wonder, 'is it right to kill criminals? Do we have the moral authority?' In fact, he wonders this loudly for what seems like about a quarter of the film, often while sitting in the bath, eating a banana.

Dark mentions his concerns to his boss, a terrifying cross between Christopher Lee and the Scottish hotelier in Little Britain, leading to the absolute best scene in any film ever. In it, the police commissioner works himself up into a blazing fury while comparing policework to golf: "...some irons, some woods. They all hit the ball a little differently. Hard and heavy for the gliding long-shot, the softest touch for the delicate putt...Same with the police force. It takes a range of officers. Some, hit heavy. Some nudge. Some knock the ball off the mother-fucking course!"

And then, who should appear but Matt Lucas, of actual Little Britain fame, as some sort of investigator for the Ministry of Paranormal Affairs. Things just get weirder from then on.

Other factors add to the general strangeness of this already bizarre film. Pretty incongruous is that it has clearly been written with the American market in mind, so we see British policemen in the 'vice squad', running around with guns, waving badges in the shape of shields, in what looks like it might be Southampton on a wet Sunday.

And then there is this nagging feeling that half of the cast was once in EastEnders. They just have that kind of gritty-gangster-but-actually-quite-a-pussy-in-real-life look to them.

But this all adds to the fantastically disconcerting atmosphere. In fact my only real gripe is that the crappy font on the case made the title look more like 'Gold & Dark'. Type that into any search engine and all you'll get are pictures up David Dickinson's arsehole.

Ok, that wasn't true. But check this one out. Worthy Seek ( is a Christian web search with a fun feature - whatever you search for is repeated back to you at the top of the results page as "Worthy Seek! Are you seeking ...blah...?"

Try typing in "Satan", "persecution" or "choir boys to interfere with". Now that's social commentary!

Now, go straight to Amazon and buy Cold & Dark. Now. Go on. Shoo. Ok then, you can stay here. But I'm leaving. Bye!