Preamble for a Pram

We're off to Hull tomorrow to get a pram.

Did I mention that I'm going to be a dad? Oh, it seems I didn't. Well, Clare's pregnant and our baby is due in April, so that's why we're off to Hull tomorrow to get a pram.

The reason why I didn't mention this monumental, life-changing, most-important-thing-to-ever-happen-to-me-in-my-life event any sooner than this is because I wanted to tell people about it in person. By the time I finally got around to doing that, however, Clare had already started a pregnancy blog. She's doing such a damn fine job of it that I felt somewhat ill-equipped to discuss our shared experiences on here. Instead, I decided to stick to the subjects I know best, namely, popular culture, low humour and saucy limericks.

The reason why we're going to Hull to get a pram is because we bought it from someone on Ebay who lives in Hull. It's a long way to go to get a pram, I guess, but it does give me the chance to revisit my old stomping ground. I spent three very-fondly remembered years at Hull University, so tomorrow will give me the opportunity to give Clare and Lily a guided tour of my past. No doubt I'll still be writing blog posts about it six months from now.

Anyway, the pram is a black Quinny Buzz and it looks something like this:


As Clare observed, it has "a certain Batmobile-ness about it..."

Being somewhat clueless when it comes to babies, prams and most practical matters, I was surprised to discover that the Quinny Buzz isn't just an ordinary pram: it's a pram that can change into a pushchair. That's impressive - to me, at least. A pram that can change into a pushchair, a pushchair that can change into a pram. I didn't know that sort of thing was possible.

I've already started calling it 'Optimus Pram'.

The Double-Bill Divide

The tuxes have been returned to their wardrobes, the dresses have been handed back to their designers and - if there's any justice in the world - some underpaid catering temps are now swigging down whatever's left of the overpriced champagne. That pompous orgy of self-congratulatory excess that's otherwise known as the 81st Academy Awards is now officially over and I, for one, am glad to see the back of it.

It wasn't such a good night for Mickey Rourke, of course. Despite all the rumours and speculation beforehand he didn't walk away with the Best Actor award. Was F. Scott Fitzgerald right when he said "There are no second acts in American lives"? Maybe, maybe not. You'd have to ask him. If you had to ask me, I'd say that the Academy judges have never really forgiven Rourke for Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man. Can't say I blame them.

But let's not feel too sorry for Rourke. He may look as odd as a shark's knee, but at least he got a nomination. That's more than some actors could ever hope for. Lets spare a thought, then, for that class of screen performer who will never get the opportunity to raise that famous gold geezer, blubber like an idiot and Thank the Academy. They're the forgotten few, they're Hollywood's underclass, the people the Oscar judges would like us to forget.

They are, of course, the kings and queens of straight-to-video action movies.

Jean-Claude Van Damme. Steven Seagal. Chuck Norris. Cynthia Rothrock. Dolph Lundgren. Their names have launched hundreds of "high-octane action extravaganzas." Their fists have bust a thousand faces. They often do their own stunts. And yet, not one of these people has ever received an Academy Award nomination. To the Oscar judges they're no better than ex-porn stars or struggling screenwriters. If they ever got invited to the Academy Awards it'd probably be in order to beef-up the security, or possibly sweep up the stage.

The gap between the Oscar-hopefuls and the Oscar-hopeless has never seemed greater. There seems to be an unbreachable celuloid ceiling that divides the Academy-sanctioned A-Listers and the stars of such classics as Kickboxer 2 and Red Scorpion. But is that really the case? By embracing the methodology of the popular movie geek parlour game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon - in which an elaborate daisychain of film roles and co-stars is constructed between actors - it soon becomes apparent that the gap between the Kates, Brads and Angelinas of this world and the Chucks, Dolphs and Jean-Claudes is narrower than you might think.

In fact, they're rarely more than two films apart...

Kate Winslet and Dolph Lundgren

She starred in the most successful movie of all-time, has been Oscar-nominated no less than five times and was the winner of this year's Academy Award for Best Actress; he is the star of such classics as The Punisher, Dark Angel and Universal Soldier. What possible connection could there be?

Well, Winslet appeared 2005's Romance and Cigarettes alongside Christopher Walken, who appeared in crap 80s Bond-flick A View To A Kill with Dolph Lundgren.


Sean Penn and Chuck Norris

Penn is a left-wing political activist who won his second Best Actor Oscar in this year's ceremony. Norris is a right-wing political activist who has won countless martial arts trophies. Penn was once married to Madonna, while Norris looks better with a beard.

Sean Penn appeared in Barry Levinson's What Just Happened (2008) alongside Mark Ivinir, who appeared in the 2005 direct-to-DVD Chuck Norris flick, The Cutter.

Meryl Streep and Cynthia Rothrock

Meryl Streep has won the Best Actress Oscar on two separate occasions (for Kramer vs Kramer in 1979 and Sophie's Choice in 1983) and has been nominated by the Academy a staggering 13 times. She is considered by many to be the finest actress of her generation. Cynthia Rothrock is the star of China O'Brien, Irrisistible Force and Lady Dragon. She is considered by many to be the finest martial artist to appear in China O'Brien, Irrisistible Force and Lady Dragon.

Meryl Streep appeared in the 2004 remake of The Manchurian Candidate which also featured Darrell Larson; he appeared in Eye for an Eye (1996) alongside Cynthia Rothrock.


Brad Pitt and Jean-Claude Van Damme

Jean Claude Van Damme is known as 'The Muscles from Brussels' because of his well-toned physique and the fact he was born in Berchem-Sainte-Agathe district of Brussels; Brad Pitt has never had a colourful nickname or kick-ass sobrqiuet because he's so famous he doesn't need one. (And he was born in Shawnee, Oklahoma, which doesn't rhyme with anything.)

Pitt was Oscar-nominated for David Fincher's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which also featured Elton LeBlanc, who appeared in the Van Damme's 2007 actioner, Until Death.


Angelina Jolie and Steven Seagal

What can be said about Angelina Jolie that hasn't been said in countless supermarket tabloids? How about this:

Angelina Jolie appeared as herself in 2008's Confessions of an Action Star which also featured Peter Jason; he appeared in the 1996 Seagal actioner The Glimmer Man.


Philip Seymour Hoffman and Christopher Lambert

The first is a highly-respected charactor best known for his powerful, nuanced portrayals of often complex characters; the second is best known for his powerful, nuanced portrayal of a decapitation-averse, dubiously-accented Scotsman in the Highlander movie series.

Hoffman appeared in Todd Solondz Happiness (1998) alongside Jon Lovitz, who appeared in Richard Kelly's Southland Tales (2006) alongside Christopher Lambert.



Finally, I'd like to pass on a personal message to Oscar-nominated Frank Langella. Dolph sends his regards. He thought your performance as Tricky Dicky in Ron Howard's Frost/Nixon was "really good" and he's sorry to hear you didn't get an Oscar.

But never mind, eh? You'll always be his Skeletor.


(Thanks to The Oracle of Bacon and its handy movie-link finder for making this post far less labour-intensive than it might otherwise have been.)

11-11-11: Aston Lane

Am 11. November 2008 Clare und ich verbrachten einige Stunden circumnavigating die Stadt von Birmingham auf dem Bus der Nr. 11. Dieses wasn' t unsere Idee, verstehen Sie. Eher war es das Geistesprodukt der Jon Bounds der erstaunlichen Brum-gegründeten Web site Birmingham: It' s Nicht Schit.


Birchfield Library

At about 2.30pm we leave Wellington Road and cross the Perry Barr roundabout on Birchfield Road. Although I'm no stranger to this area, this is an odd approach for me. I regularly drive along the Birchfield Road, but I usually take the underpass that runs beneath the traffic island. Here's a picture of the underpass from when it was under construction in 1961, courtesy of Digital Handsworth:


That's The Old Crown and Cushion pub in the background, which has changed a lot since then. Luckily the underpass has too, otherwise it'd be a bugger to drive through.

One of the advantages of seeing the world from the front seat of the top deck of a number 11 bus is that you get to witness all the juicy street level stuff you'd normally miss while driving through underpasses and along flyovers. That's why I'm surprised to see that the library that used to sit on the corner of Birchfield Road and Aston Lane has now been demolished, and that's why I say out loud (and a bit too loudly): "Where the fuck did that go?"

Someone sitting behind me lets out an audible tut. As we're sitting on the front seat, "someone sitting behind me" hardly narrows it down, so I let it pass.

Maybe I'm too sensitive about these things, but there's something about the sight of a demolished library building that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Didn't this country once take a moral stand against a cruel and evil regime that was more than a tad partial to burning books? If so, then how can we turn a blind eye and let such wanton acts of anti-intellectualism escalate on our own doorstep? I imagine it's because we're all too busy driving through the underpasses and along the flyovers of life.

Let's just hope that all the books got out in one piece.


Tufnol Factory, Aston Lane

At Aston Lane the bus stops for what seems like seventeen years. As the Wellhead Lane depot is nearby, I assume that the bus has to change drivers, the driver has to take a leak or the leak has to change buses.

I notice an elderly couple get on board. The man is wearing an Edwardian-looking suit, sporting a pair of jam jar glasses and bears an uncanny resemblance to the great Irish writer James Joyce. I can't say whether his companion resembles Joyce's wife and muse Nora Barnacle, but that's only because I can't remember what Nora Barnacle looked like.

Along Aston Lane, on the corner of Wellhead Lane, we pass the Tufnol factory. Tufnol, in case you don't know, is a firm based in Birmingham and Glasgow who have been producing rods, sheets and other laminated plastic products for over 70 years. The reason why I know this is because my Uncle Eddie used to work there. Uncle Eddie was one of my favourite people in the world. He had a sense of humour was as dry as a sand sandwich and he always made sure that my family were never short of rods, sheets and other laminated plastic products. I miss him.

As we pass the Tufnol factory I realise that it's been years' since I last travelled along Aston Lane. That's why I'm quite surprised to see a massive, new 24 hour Tesco Superstore, and that's why I say out loud (and a bit too loudly): "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Someone sitting behind me lets out an audible tut.

I think it might be James Joyce.

Plugging my Pals: The Blog of Beth

My Worcester-based friend Beth now has a blog. You can find it here.

Hopefully, her fiancé Phil will get his finger out and start one, too. The Blogosphere sorely needs his wit, wisdom and excitable rants...

The Sixth Degree of Christopher Lee

This evening we returned to Birmingham after spending the last few days visiting Clare's family in the South Kent coastal town of Hythe. It's a 400-odd mile round trip, so forgive me if I sound exhausted. My Kerouac gland ain't what it used to be.

As well as being a pretty town that's been steeped, soaked and marinated overnight in history, Hythe is also home to the legendary screen actor Christopher Lee. At least, that's what Clare's parents have told me.

Lee, of course, has had a long and distinguished career. According to The Oracle of Bacon - the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon people - he's the highest placed living actor in their Centre of the Hollywood Universe chart (second only to the late, great Rod Steiger). In case you don't know (or can't be arsed remembering), Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon was a trivia game popular amongst film geeks in the late-90s. Its purpose was to connect any given actor or actress with Kevin Bacon in as few moves as possible.

For example, only three films separate Kevin Bacon from Laurel & Hardy:

Kevin Bacon appeared in 2008s New York, I Love You with Cloris Leachman, she appeared in Herbie Goes Bananas (1980) with Iris Adrian and she appeared in Our Relations (1936) with Stan and Ollie.

That's impressive. The Centre of the Hollywood Universe was an attempt to refine the methodology and find out which stars had an even greater gravitational pull than Mr Bacon. In the case of Christopher Lee, only two films stand between him and Laurel & Hardy:

Christopher Lee appeared in 1958's Dracula with Peter Cushing, who previously appeared in A Chump at Oxford (1940) with The Immortal Duo.

I used to have a theory that Lee was something of a real-life Forrest Gump based on the number of historically significant people he seems to have come into contact with. He was, after all, a step-cousin to Ian Fleming and the only member of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings cast to have met JRR Tolkein. The theory was subsequently abandoned, however, after I couldn't think of any more examples.

In any case, according Clare's parents the great man lives just around the corner from them. Now, I've visited Hythe on numerous occasions and have yet to catch a glimpse of the erstwhile Prince of Darkness. I haven't even seen him at the local Waitrose.

I'm starting to think they're pulling my leg.

Et in Arcade ego

Despite my numerous misgivings about the soon-to-be released movie adaptation of Watchmen, its ingenious viral marketing campaign continues to bring out the worst out in me.

The latest is a an 80s-style, 8-bit, beat-em-up arcade game manufactured by Watchmen's fictional Veidt Industries. I shouldn't like it, but I can't stop playing it.

Insert Coin HERE.

My Top 10 Films of 2008

Here's my somewhat ridiculously overdue Top Ten Films of 2008, the disappointing sequel to Top Ten Films of 2007. To make up for my tardiness, each one comes with a lovingly hand-crafted haiku summary.

I thought the haiku was an original touch, until I realised that sites like this have been doing this sort of thing for ages.


Never mind, eh?



10. Hellboy 2: The Golden Army

Stateside Guillermo
But Hellboy goes to Ulster
Red Right Hand, indeed...


9. The Orphanage

Twisty Spanish yarn
With a very sad middle
Behold the sack mask!

(Thanks to Clare for that one!)


8. Burn After Reading

Coen's strike again
Dumb idiots hatch dumb plot
It's sadistic fun!


7. Tropic Thunder.

Actors' film folly
As they stumble into war
Year's funniest film


6. No Country For Old Men.



The Brothers Coen
Go bleak and nihilistic
Beware cattle gun!



5. There Will Be Blood


Fictional oilman

Think: 'Charlie Kane Does Dallas'
Dan Day Lewis shines!



4. Iron Man


Wealthy arms dealer
Finds redemption in tin suit
He's Invincible!



3. Wall*E

Little yellow box
Dreams of love and musicals
Then clears up our mess

2. In Bruges

Two Irish hitmen

Lying low in Low Country

Beware racist dwarf!

1. The Dark Knight

Costumed crime drama

Of order versus chaos

A spandex ballet!

The Stand Down Margaret

The funniest thing I read today appeared in an article about 80s Anti-Thatch pop in this month's Uncut:

It's 1980, and The Beat are scheduled to play "Stand Down Margaret" on the early evening kids' TV show, Cheggers Plays Pop.

"We had to get the song on by stealth," laughs lead singer Dave Wakeling. "Our genial old Jamaican saxophonist, Saxa, explained to presenter Keith Chegwin that The Stand Down Margaret was an old Caribbean dance. 'Come now, Cheggers,' he was saying. 'Let me show you how to dance The Stand Down Margaret...' and he invents some ridiculous little dance routine. Then we start playing the song and unzip our jackets and we've all got T-shirts emblazoned with pictures of Maggie Thatcher..."

11-11-11: Crown and Cushion, Perry Barr

Le 11 novembre 2008 Clare et moi avons passé plusieurs heures circumnavigating la ville de Birmingham sur l'autobus du numéro 11. C'était idée de limites de Jon Bounds de 'Birmingham: n'est pas Merde.'


We're still on the number 11 bus, we're still in Perry Barr and we're now passing the Crown and Cushion pub. There's been a Crown and Cushion standing at the corner of Wellington Road and Birchfield Road for as long as I remember, although it hasn't always been this Crown and Cushion.

The current incumbent is a fairly modern-looking, functional affair that, by my somewhat unreliable estimation, was constructed in the late 1980s or possibly even the early-1990s. I wasn't on the number 11 at the time so I didn't take any notes.

It was built on the site of a more traditional looking red brick boozer called, unsurprisingly, The Old Crown and Cushion. As I recall, across the road from what used to be The Old Crown and Cushion was a smaller pub squeezed between a row of shops on Birchfield Road. It was called The New Crown and Cushion.

Now, I'm no expert on pub name etymology, but I think its safe to assume that the New Crown and Cushion was a late arrival on the scene. Being a younger pub, I imagine it was a bit of an upstart fuelled by youthful exuberance and swaggering cockiness, although it probably skipped on the the piss and vinegar for health and safety reasons.

It must have felt a bit annoyed when the Old Crown and Cushion was bulldozed and replaced with a Crown and Cushion that was newer than 'The New Crown and Cushion'. For one thing, it had to change its name.

For some reason this makes me think of Spinal Tap.

We've been rather busy this evening.

'Nuff said.

I wouldn't normally do this sort of thing, but this evening I've been reading The Love Song of J. Edgar Hoover by the country singer, humourist, crime novelist, politician and self-appointed cigar czar Kinky Friedman and I just had to share the following gem:

'It is a rather tedious fact of life that most of us who are confined to the human condition spend a great deal of time wanting to be something we're not. Or someone we're not. The proctologist, scrupulously washing his hands before and after each patient, dreams of being Dr Albert Schweitzer. The rock star, as he worries whether to leave the Porsche with valet parking, dreams of saving the rain forest. The bank clerk dreams of embezzling a million dollars and moving to Costa Rica. The average Costa Rican dreams of moving to Akron, Ohio, and becoming a bank clerk. The many people who lead anonymous little lives long for fame. The handful of people who've become truly trapped in the thing that fame is, invariably long for anonymity. As far as the rest of us go, we have to deal with so many assholes every day we figure we probably should've been proctologists and at least get paid for it.'

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda, Didn't

Here's another pesky but obligatory year-end list for me to get out of my system: it's my Top 5 list of the gigs I really would have liked to have gone to in 2008 but for one reason or another didn't.

I'm sure I can come up with something snappier than that.

5. Public Enemy, Custard Factory, Birmingham. I mentioned this during one of my 11-11-11 write-ups, but sort of subsequently forgot about it. I'm sure it would have been fun.

4. Band of Horses, Birmingham Academy. Clare bought us a pair of tickets, there was a mix up over the dates and we missed the gig. Bugger.

3. TV On the Radio, Birmingham Academy. I've been following them since 2004's Desperate Youths, Blood Thirsty Babes. 2008's Dear Science was one of my favourite albums of the year. For some reason I didn't catch them on tour. So it goes.

2. Bruce Springsteen. The last time I saw The Boss play live was at Villa Park in June 1988. That's fucking ridiculous, that is.

1. Leonard Cohen. Clare and I came close - this close, I tell you - to nabbing a pair of tickets to see Laughing Len in Manchester. I'll spare you the details.