Get Well Soon

As many of you will know, Richard Hammond has been involved in a car crash whilst filming a new series of Top Gear. I sincerely hope that he will make a full and quick recovery after this tragic accident. My thoughts are with his friends and family. May God comfort them in this time of need.

Seriously, this was man is brilliant. He can bring a smile to my face just from seeing that he is in a television programme. I will really miss him if anything happens.

Get well soon Richard Hammond, we love you.

Silent Hill

For anyone who has ever played the game, then they'll know the general feel of it. You're wandering around a deserted town, there's fog everywhere (even in buildings, generally) and every now and then your radio flairs up and something evil crawls out of the shadows. There's very little music because that would harm the atmosphere. For those who haven't played the game, here's a little plot summary:

1. You lose your daughter and set out to find her.

2. Some weird fucking shit happens.

3. Nobody ever explains what the hell just happened or why.

To this day, I don't know what that game was about, all I know is that it was bloody scary and half of that was not knowing what the hell was going on. That way you feel very much like the character in the game.

So, they made a film of it. It was really good for the first half. Up until they got to the church, it was just like the game. Which in a way, was a flaw because me and my brother just ended up sitting there saying 'oh, that happened in the game... and that!' which in all honesty, isn't that scary. The problem came when the characters started explaining. It all became just a little too real then. The weirdness had a purpose and that was just no fun. You concentrated too much on the plot and that is when it lost it's atmosphere. I don't usually like films that don't really have a plot, but I think it this case extreme ambiguity would have worked in the films favour, with people walking out of the cinema saying 'what the hell was that about...?' as their mate replies 'I don't know, it was bloody scary though... maybe it was about...' before having a three hour debate about the possibilities of the plot. A giant man with a massive cleaver and a pyramid for a head (see picture) how much explaining does that need? C'mon, if Creep doesn't need a plot, why does this?

If I had the licence to the game name, I would have made the film a lot different. And then, if anyone didn't understand, or slated it, you just say 'well you haven't played the game then!' and then if they want to have any credibility they have to play the game! Two birds, one stone, I thank you. *bows*

Bobbikk

Of Mice and Men

Firstly, if anyone, like me, was tearing their hair out trying to find out what the name of this book comes from, it's from Robbie Burns' poem 'To A Mouse'. The whole sentence actually goes 'The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry' althought that may be slightly paraphrased.

Anyway, that's right, it's another boring book review! As you may see, I'm not reading many new books, particularly. This is because I want to read those classic books that everyone says 'have you read...' and I usually say 'no, but I really should. So sorry. Also it's the only thing that I can think to write about and it's my blog and if you don't like it then I'll scream and scream until I'm blue. And that'll be just the start of the tantrum I'll throw.

Of Mice and Men is the story of two farm workers who travel around together called Lennie and George. George is a small and cynical man, who looks after his friend Lennie. This is because Lennie is large, but mentally deficient. He has the mental capacity of a child.

Trying to work up enough money to buy a little piece of land that they've always been dreaming of, they start work at a new farm. However, much like the times before that George relays to him, Lennies low intelligence and desire to stroke soft things gets them into trouble. Is it possible for George to save Lennie this time?

The story is a touching tale of the isolation of men on these farms in America and the hopelessness of the American Dream. Many of the characters reveal that their greatest curse is the feeling of being alone. Despite this, George and Lennie have found a way out of the lonliness in each other and this book shows how much they actually care.

I know I always say that I highly recommend books, but this one should be read above any of the others that I have reviewed on this website. It's only short. You could probably read it within a day or two. Let yourself have this experience, I doubt you'll regret it.

Bobbikk

Do The Hastings Direct!

A new dance craze is sweeping the nation. Soon everyone will forget the macarena, stop walking the dinosaur and never again shall the timewarp darken our bodily movements. For, quite literally, this dance will wipe the dancefloor with them. You've seen it on the telly, you know the jingle, now do the Hastings Direct:

Dance curtesy of David Macbeth

(Please note, this was recorded on my new digital camera, which I haven't quite figured out how to use just yet. So that is why it is sideways. If anyone knows how to make it the right way up, I will gladly listen to their advice)

As you can see, the dance consists of three essential moves:

1. The Bob - Bend your knees outward with your arms outstretched, creating a bobbing motion.

2. The Shoulder Shuffle - Arms by your side and leaning slightly to your left, raise and lower your shoulders alternately, one after another

3. The Leg Jig Finalé - Flail your legs out to the side, keeping one leg bent and one leg straight. Use your arms to keep balance, you wouldn't want to ruin the finalé by falling over now, would you? Repeat steps 1 to three, chanting the line 'oh-eight-hundred-double-oh-ten-sixty-six.'

And remember, when dancing always keep a big ol' smile! Now get those dance shoes you little scamps, and boogie the night away!

Bobbikk

Face Like an Anus. A Poem to Match.

Once upon a time, I had a substitute teacher. It was quite a sad state of affairs, because the substitute was actually worse at teaching us than the normal teacher. That might not sound bad, but if you'd been taught by the normal teacher, you would understand. I have just one word to say about her. 'Pancake'. (Oh, I'd love to see what connotations have come up in your twisted little minds...)

Anyway, this man turned out to be Cheshire's Poet Laureate. How lucky we were to have him there! So, we rushed off, thinking, "He might not be able to teach us much about 'A Streetcar Named Desire', but who cares, the play is depressing and pointless and the man is a highly regarded poet!'. Once home we remembered the name and scoured high and low for his work. (Ok, so in actuality, my mate Chris happened to find an Anthology of his in a bookshop and couldn't resist) Imagine our delight when we read this:

Mummy
by Harry Owen.

Note the eyes like broken bricks,
coarse, rough-edged. Damaged.
A face like graphite.
Note the mouth like an anus
pinched, vindictive,
duffel-bag drawstring tight as wire,
all feeling cold as ash, as flint.

Mummy. This is Mummy.

While her boyfriend, partner,
cared for the little one,
systematically extinguishing
a five-year-old life
over months of red rages,
crushing ribs, breaking skulls
in orgies of savage gratification,

she knew, colluded, stood back.

Mummy. This is Mummy.

Jury - you may retire.

What?

Seriously, this is one of the poems from the anthology. Note the line 'face like an anus'. I'm sorry, but the only person who has a face like an anus is the one that shit out this poem. And since when has an anus been called 'vindictive'? Oh yes, I know that my arse is a right vindictive little git. Won't let me sit down sometimes, just out of spite. Harry Owen sure is a wizard of desctription. I'd hate to see a picture of this mother, because aparently she looks like this:

Picture curtesy of Christopher Barrow ©

This man is supposed to be Poet Laureate of Cheshire? Wow, now I knew that there were parts of Cheshire that could be fairly be renamed Cheshite as they are cultural voids, (*cough* Crewe *cough*) but I thought we had a bit more artistic merit that that. To prove this, me and my companion will both submit a poem in the coming weeks in the style of our poetic hero, Harry Owen. And they will be better than Harry Owens.

'Mummy. This is Mummy' the line intended to tug on the heartstrings. Well, I say:

Bollocks. This is Bollocks.

Bobbikk

It's In The Stars

I saw, for the first time 'The Plough' the other day. No, not the pub just down the road from me, but the constellation. I was really proud. I'd never managed to spot the arrangements of the stars, so I felt a sense of glee. Silly I know, but I did anyway.

This highlighted to me a difference between most of the world and America.

Take the British name for this constellation 'The Plough', indicating the hard working man, the strong horse, fertilising the fields of the sky, awaiting the fruitful crop of their toil, hard gotten but well deserved. This is the British way, even in the sky. Another name indicated is 'The Great Bear'. An animal of enormous strength and dignity. Plus, everyone loves a great big cuddly teddybear, don't they? The Germans call it 'Grosser Wagen', or 'The Great Wagon', a sign of travelling and change, for hope for the future as anyone who looks for it.

Now lets look at the American name 'The Big Dipper'. Let me get this straight... the brightest seven stars in Ursa Major and you name it after an instrument for frying chips? Sorry, not just any old instrument for frying chips. A REALLY BIG one. Why doesn't McDonalds just buy it, we'll call it the Big McDipper and have done with it.

Bobbikk

The Historian

I really enjoyed reading The Historian and you probably would too. It's full of historical knowledge of Dracula, and huge descriptions of Eastern European countries and the immense amount of beautiful architecture that they hold. I did find that this description could get a little overbearing at times and I tended to drift off at parts, I'm sad to say. However, the intricate plot and eternal sense of menace that is present within the book keeps the story moving and the reader hooked.

The main plot of the book concerns a young girl, whose father has a terrible secret and after finding a strange and mysterious book in his library, she asks him about it. Little by little, he reveals the story of his search for his missing mentor, proffessor Bartholomeo Rossi, and finds in the end that he is searching for, almost hunting, something else.

It really is a tale of curiosity and obsession, warning about what trouble such behaviour can bring, as each character puts themselves in great danger by continuing to persue any information that they can find concerning 'Draculya' and his sinister books. The presence of the vampire looms throughout the book, every shadow cast becoming another sign that he is watching and everything that the characters learn draws them closer to him.

Again, I highly recommend this book, but learn to pronounce your Romanian and Hungarian placenames first, as you'll be needing that skill later.

Bobbikk

Little by Little E-Bay Steals My Sanity

Firstly, may Steve Irwin rest in piece. Logic dictates that by now, he should already have died. If you handle dangerous animals, then you're putting yourself in danger, even if you know what you're doing. That, believe it or not, is why they are called dangerous animals (because they're dangerous). Despite this, I got the feeling that Mr Irwin was indestructable. That he would live on forever. Lets hope he is remembered as a loving father and an enthusiastic conservationist and wildlife expert.

Secondly, I feel a cold grip coming over me. A subtle presence is back. It haunts me. Even now I am plagued by thoughts. Thoughts that many have had. Evil thoughts.

Just a little more... I can win... argh! Gits! Well... we'll see about that! Have some of this! You don't like that do you? Snipe me will you? Right no more Mr. Nice-Bidder.

That's right, Ebay has reared it's ugly head again. Only 1hr 40mins to go and I can't look away... I know I should be in bed, but if I look away they'll take my precious object that I don't really need away from me. I daren't tell friends that I'm bidding on something, just in case they plot against me to out bid me and take my item! I need help...

Bobbikk

V-iva las Stafford

Another year, another Virgin Mobile Festival (V Festival, for those who are now furrowing their brows). This year, however, the festival was graced with my presence. This single fact obviously makes it better this year than it has EVER been before.

So, in true Bobbikk reviewing style, here's a run-down of the best and worst bits of the festival:

The Good

Beck - A great performance, truely memorable. He used puppets to mimic his band on the stage, which were shown on the huge screens either side of the stage. Performances of Loser, Devils Haircut and E-Pro had the audience singing along and even though I didn't know too much of Becks music, there were plenty of sing-a-long choruses. A what seemed like, impromptu set of covers by Beck alone on what I think was a ukulele or small acoustic guitar showed off his singing voice before the rest of his band and himself started playing kitchen utensils that were brought on with a dining table at which they all sat. The set was rounded off with a video on the screens of the puppets around the V festival and trashing the Radiohead dressing room and an encore of Where It's At, much to my delight. Despite at this point it being obvious that Beck was more of a warm up act for Radiohead, I would easily call him best in show. If you get a chance, go and see Beck.

Keane - Despite being said to be 'a bit bland' by some people and their 'goody goody' reputation, Keane pulled off a stonker (that's right, a STONKER) of a show. Tom Chaplain's voice was brilliant and boy, didn't he know it. After the revelations about him and rehab in the papers, he might have been a wee bit high at this point, but who cares when he can pull a show like that out of his hat. And he wasn't even wearing a hat! There's nothing like a huge audience singing the chorus to your song to get you going and once Keane were in full flow there was no stopping them. Renditions of Somewhere Only We Know, Everybody's Changing, This is the Last Time and Bedshaped were fantastic and new songs Bad Dream and Is It Any Wonder? were easily as good.

The Beautiful South - I grew up with this band playing in the car on any long journey with my mum and dad. I thank them so much that they made me listen to them. I had a great time listening, and singing along, to all the classics. Rotterdam, Don't Marry Her, Perfect 10 and Good as Gold all bringing back memories. There were a few newer numbers that drew a blank and mild boredom, but when you can get hundreds of people singing 'Don't marry her, fuck me!' in one place, who cares??

The Cooper Temple Clause - Many will call me crazy for going to see these instead of Razorlight, but I'm so glad I did. Despite technical difficulties caused by the sound crew, the band were on top form. And, because of said difficulties, rarer live songs, such as Who Needs Enemies? were played. Unfortunately, there was no Same Mistakes, however. New song Damage is looking very impressive, and hopefully the new album (apparently expected in the new year) will be equally as good. A rendition of Panzer Attack, as usual, finished off the set in fantastic style, full of menace and an almost trance-like state of fear and loathing. Brilliant.

The Bad

Radiohead - Even though they are my favourite band, I must say, I was not impressed with the performance by Radiohead on the Sunday. This may be because I got crushed at the front of the crowd where people were moshing. Seriously, moshing to Radiohead? C'mon. I sternly deny anyone who says they're a depressing band (usually in vain) but they're not THAT lively. Anyway, they did a lot of old stuff, which I did like, but it just felt like their heart wasn't in it. Like they'd played it so many times before that it was just boring to them now. I guess that's why they say never meet your idols, you'll always be dissapointed. A rabble rousing performance of You and Who's Army? was inspiring and the encore of Creep was a nice finish, but it wasn't enough to fill my growing sense of emptyness. I'll probably see them again, if they tour, but I'm not holding my hopes high.

Dandy Warhols - I, probably like many others, went to see We Used To Be Friends and Bohemian Like You. I, probably like many others, enjoyed them then fell asleep during the rest of the set.

The Magic Numbers - They played well, however, since I could sing pretty much any of their songs over any of the songs that they were playing, without sounding off key, or even attracting odd looks from people very close to me, I didn't rate them highly. They're nice enough, but once you've heard one song, you've heard them all.

The Ugly.

The Toilets - Ew. Do I need to say more? If you go, remember to bring your own loo roll. However, the alcoholic handwash in there was enough to get you off your tits by the smell alone. Maybe it's to make you forget what the toilets were like...

The Rain - I didn't so much sleep in my tent as swim. Ever seen a ship going down with people pouring buckets of water over the side? That's what I was doing with a towel. I stayed dry in the end. Just. And everyone loves a bit of mud. Right?

Being Bottled - Now that just plain hurt. Luckily, it bounced off the back of my head (I obviously have a very bouncy head, I must make a note of that for the future) and didn't smash. Plus, someone asked me if I was ok, re-affirming my faith in human decency. All is well that ends well.

All in all it was a great festival and I hope to go again next year. All hail the Branson!

Bobbikk

Books Galore!

Firstly, before I begin on the important stuff let me say that I am sorry for being away so long. Before all you maniac blog fiends attack me with two by fours with nails in the end, it was not my fault. Blogger, having recently refurbished itself, due to a takeover by Google decided that it was not going to let me on to my blog. Git. So, I've been unable to give an update. I'm sure you've all wet yourselves with worry.

Anyway, the main thing that I've been doing over the last few weeks is reading. My beloved Sara has been away on her holidays, leaving me with some excrutiatingly lonely free time on my hands. So, I read. Here is my round up of the books I have found myself absorbed in (in chronological order, may I add! How impressive is that? I know... not very...):

Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salenger

Can anyone tell me what the hell this book is about? I know that it's supposed to be about the passageway from childhood into young adulthood and the fear of turning into one of the 'Phoney' adults that Holden sees all around him. Despite this, I didn't really like Holden. I just felt he made life difficult for himself a lot of the time. The jury is still out on this book, I'm afraid. So if you value my opinion, then you'll just have to wait and see. If you don't, then you probably don't care anyway! So it's all good!

Angels and Demons - Dan Brown

I read the Da Vinici Code. It was ok. Not a difficult read. Nothing too brain taxing. Entertaining. So, I thought, I'll read the prequel. I bought Angels and Demons. It's ok. Not a difficult read. Nothing too brain taxing. Entertaining... wait... I've read this somewhere before! Oh Mr Brown, you are a sneaky one! It turns out that The Da Vinci Code is the same book as Angels and Demons. Replace 'Holy Grail' with 'Antimatter Bomb' and 'Opus Dei' with 'Illuminati' and you have Dan Brown's first Robert Langdon Novel. It's like a literature version of Madlibs. I say, if you've read one Dan Brown novel, you've read them all.

The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom

A touching book about the death of a fairground maintenance worker Eddie. After his heroic death, Eddie meets five people in heaven who explain his life to him. It is easy to read, insightful and I think that most people would take away at least one thing from this book that might change their life. I felt at least some sense of hope after reading this, and definately reconsidered some of the choices that I've made in my life. At the least, you should read this book because it is an interesting and heartwarming tale, in which everyone makes a difference no matter how unappreciated it may seem. The writing style is colourful and ideally suited to the small town feel of the book. Even though the main setting of the book is in heaven, you feel as if you never really left the picturesque seaside fairground of Ruby Pier.

So, that's the books that I read. I'm reading 'The Historian' at the moment, so expect that fairly soon. (It was Richard and Judy's book of the year, so you know it's got to be good! Am I kidding, am I not? Only time, and this blog will tell!)

Bobbikk