BLACK SWAN - CREEPY OR CLASSIC?

Day off Monday and the BF and I head off to the cinema to see the much celebrated 'Black Swan'. Monday afternoons spent in the cinema whilst it's blowing a gale outside is a surreal experience. Having only ever ventured to the cinema at night, spending a midweek afternoon sat in VIP leather seats and sharing the auditorium with only four other people is quite a decadent way of spending a day off. Black Swan and it's subject matter of ballerinas wasn't particularly my film of choice but I sided on the recommendation of a friend. After the first 5 minutes, I began to question my choice, not to mention wiping up the blood gushing from my perforated eardrums. My goodness, the intro music is so loud it makes your hair stand on end. 

The story concentrates on the character Nina who's a prima ballerina who takes the lead role in Swan Lake under the tutelage of a creepy Frenchman. Natalie Portman plays the lead role and I wouldn't be surprised if her stunning performance wins her the Best Actress Oscar. The film is at times absorbing, disturbing and very, very dark. She plays a fragile character who strives for perfection in landing the complex role of white and black swan. It spirals into a dark psychological thriller which delves deep into Portman's character's sexuality, self-harm, psychosis and total mental meltdown as she strives for the perfection in claiming her dream part. There are some very racy scenes which had us both squirming and shifting uncomfortably in our seats at times, but stick with it as it's a really great film. Odd at times, Black Swan is a powerfully potent psychological drama that will make you uneasy. And at the end, it assaults all your senses rather like being slapped round the face with a wet haddock. Also worth a mention are the supporting roles from Barbara Hershey (playing Nina's deranged mother) and Winona Ryder. 

You've been warned - Billy Elliott it isn't! 

LADIES WHO LUNCH, SHOP & SHOP MORE....

Ladies who lunch were out in force today when my mum and I hit the shops for a little retail therapy. We've not exactly seen eye to eye of late and I've been in for a few tellings off, which despite me not being a teenager any longer, I still take very seriously when I'm in for the high jump (so to speak). Mum and I very, very rarely have our differences as we have an uncannily similar outlook in life, but thankfully we put all that aside and we headed off for the day. The day got off to a good start when we managed to park easily and not have to do a 14 mile hike to M&S especially in today's gales and rain. We lunched in our local Marks and Spencer's which was lovely and quiet for once. A cup of coffee later and we were giggling like a couple of schoolgirls. A quick swish around the lingerie department and some big tuts and eyes rolling from my mum at the garish red and black bra and knicker combos cashing in for the forthcoming St Valentines day. Have to agree with her on that one. We then did our usual tour of TK Maxx, Boots, River Island and Wallis. I glanced longingly across at Waterstones book shop, which when I shop on my own, will usually see me in there for at least an hour at a time. We stopped off for a mid-break Costa espresso and surprise surprise, no tantrum from yours truly for crap service or tables full of used crockery. We were served by a young girl who was very pleasant and quick and we had a nice table which was mercifully clean. And just to complete the perfect picture of happiness in Costa Coffee, there wasn't a pram or screaming toddler in sight. Not one. Are you having that? Just a few tables of middle-aged ladies and young couples happily chatting away and enjoying their coffee. With bulging bags and stretched arms, we saw a 20% sale in TJ Hughes and with a look exchanged between us that spoke volumes in the 'well, why the Hell not?' kind of way, my mum treated me to a bottle of my fave Calvin Klein perfume which just about sealed the day. Mothers and daughters rule ok! 

TOP ARSES?

I've never really understood the appeal of BBC's Top Gear programme. It wins lots of TV awards and has a cult following of millions who tune in to watch the motoring show and the antics of it's three presenters. I sit uncomfortably watching Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May who have developed a persona as naughty, indulged overgrown schoolboys who are paid magnificently to drive fast cars, naff cars or crash cars in usually very exotic settings. More recently, the Top Gear presenters cannot simply present a programme about new cars and their performance. They have to 'entertain' us with showcasing their naughty comedic talent and outspoken 'laddish' behaviour. This week sees new controversy following comments made on the TG programme. Following the debacle over at Sky Sports with the other two outspoken imbeciles Andy Gray and Richard Keys, the three presenters have proverbially fallen on their arses by making unwise remarks about the Mexicans. Richard Hammond's remark last week that "Mexican cars are just going to be lazy, feckless, flatulent, overweight, leaning against a fence asleep looking at a cactus". Clarkson added that Mexican ambassador would be sleeping in front of a television so wouldn't be able to muster a protest. And even May joined in the joke by remarking that Mexican food is "just sick with cheese on it". The moronic assertion that all Mexicans are "lazy, feckless and flatulent" sounds suspiciously like publicity-seeking racism and deliberately courting controversy. Juvenile prejudice taken not from experience but sounding like a stereotypical assumption taken from watching 'Hey, Gringo' Hollywood westerns. The same old assumptions that 'women can't possibly know the offside rule' or 'did you smash it?'. 
Comments like these are as nauseous as they are offensive. These are middle-aged, highly paid and dare I say.. middle-class men who present a motoring programme. Being edgy, cool and anti-establishment by making outspoken comments whilst wearing naff haircuts and naff jeans and jackets combo's fools no-one. What surprises me more, is that these three are viewed as role models and receive almost God-like status. They wear their offensive behaviour like a badge of pride and are indeed applauded for their outspokenness and blokey high jinks. But like Keys and Gray at Sky Sports, you can only get away with impunity from offensive remarks for so long before tolerance runs out. 

CHOW MEIN ANYONE?

...and just for further proof that the UK goes mad for dogs (although I don't), check out this little beauty from Crufts 2010. Crufts, in case you don't know, is a yearly dog show where dog breeders show off their pooches for prizes in the show. It's big business and gets big coverage on tv, though sadly not in my house as I would rather watch a) paint dry b) anal warts on C4's 'Embarrassing Bodies'. Whenever I've stumbled across Crufts being broadcast (usually during periods of having a high temperature and being in a feverish state and under the influence of lots of medication), I'm struck by the following observations:- 

1. Poodles - what is the frigging point of poodles? 

2. Dog owners - sometimes a little eccentric, garish-clothed, running like a big girl, tight trouser-suited showing a hint of camel toe.

3. Judges - Usually hugely-bosomed, matronly, severe haircut, big arse. The female judges also share similar characteristics.

4. Dog names - long and pompous and invariably on the lines of.. Lord Smegma of Skye in Sequin Plaid Kitten Heels III aka 'Angus'

5. Judging criteria - worryingly involves the huge bosomed one squeezing the dog's face, having a quick feel around the trossachs, lifting the tail for a quick check of the dog's arse, a subtle lubrication of the index finger without latex gloves...

6. Overuse of double entendres - '..and doesn't Tracy handle her foo-foo well in the ring'. 

Put it all together and it sums up succinctly why I despair with dogs, their owners, and Crufts. The top of the pile accolade has to go to dog owners with plactic see-through bags who shovel up dogshit and stick it in their pockets and hate poodles and poodle owners. There, I've said it...

BARKING MAD....

Driving through my local town this morning, I stopped at some traffic lights and  saw a dog walker. The dog had stopped and relieved itself of what looked like a ton of dog crap. Grimsville I know, and despite rebuking myself for staring, I tried desperately to distract my gaze from the dog's grimace at one end and from what was coming out the other. And then it happened. The dog owner took out a plastic bag, scooped the mess up, knotted the bag and shoved it in her jacket pocket. IN HER BLOODY POCKET. Bluuurrrgghh...
I'm not really struck on dogs. They're a bit like Nick Clegg - looks good on paper but totally impractical. They generally stink, they drool, they crap incessantly and urinate against EVERYTHING. They shed hair, they bark, they snap, they bite, they ruin furniture. They require walking, pull on their leads, run after ducks, don't come back when they're off their lead, they hog the fire. They get under your feet, they scratch, they have dog breath, they cost a friggin fortune in vets bills, they get swollen gonads. They bonk everything, they're on heat, they eat stinky food and expel stinky farts. They get worms, mange, fleas and rotten teeth. I hate them. 
The trouble is, in the UK we are besotted by them. They are loved, adored and pampered. I have a sneaking suspicion that more charity money is bestowed on the RSPCA and Battersea Dogs Home than the whole of the NSPCC, Barnardo's and ChildLine put together. Whilst out on my travels as a community nurse, I have the misfortune of coming across many, many dogs owned by patients. I hate all of them. I have to sit with glazed expression and false smile whilst little Bobby barks constantly about 3 inches from my ear, tries to copulate with my leg or jumps all over my black clothes with shitty paws. Is there something in a dog's psyche that 'knows' when someone hates them with passion, but needs to persecute that person by never leaving them alone? Many a time I've been tempted to drop-kick little Foo-Foo through the lounge window but even I don't have that much courage. And if I had a pound for every time I heard the phrase 'he's just being friendly'.  
Dogs? No thanks, you're welcome to them. And as for picking up the poo with a see-through plastic bag? WTF! 

ANOTHER BRICK IN THE WALL....

Another quirky selection of album covers has been unveiled. 21 year old British artist Aaron Savage has recreated legendary album covers with lego bricks. Some of the Lego men have been given makeovers to make them look a little bit more like the artists on the sleeves. Congrats to anyone for getting all 10 artists and albums...

GREATEST TV THEME TUNES?

I can't blog about the late great John Barry without passing up the opportunity to include probably the greatest tv theme of all time - The Persuaders. Always on the look out for further opportunities to exploit new blog material, here's my take on some of the other greatest tv themes ever...
  
The Beverley Hillbillies
The Addams Family 
The Monkees
The Protectors 
The Odd Couple
Hawaii-Five-O
Pink Panther
Steptoe and Son
Mission Impossible
World at War
The Onedin Line
The New Avengers
The Professionals 
The Rockford Files
Hill Street Blues
Magnum PI 
Minder
Van Der Valk 
The Sweeney 
The Southbank Show
Big Brother 


And just for Emma and Simon - here's the requested additions to the Greatest TV Themes of all Time (not that I have ever heard of any of them but looked them up on You Tube for research purposes and I'm stunned. My eyebrows should resume their normal position by Thursday next week)...


Raggydolls (I'm embarrassed)
Jonny Briggs (a sliding trombone ensemble of utter hideousness. I'm embarrassed)
Simon and The Witch (Oh Lordy. The phrase scraping the barrel has never been more appropriate)