Bringing warmth into people’s hearts and homes for 28 years.

Listening to homeless people sing Christmas carol’s on half empty subway cars should really be a fun activity for all. But to my disappointment the last guy I was stuck listening to didn’t even know the words. All he knew was “O Christmas Tree” and everything else was filled in with “La La La’s”. One would think it would be better to stick to a song you actually know and let’s face it; O Christmas Tree is kind of a drag of a song anyway. A veteran carol singer like me doesn’t even know all the words to that one. But perhaps calling me a carol veteran is going to far, the last time I was shanghaied into caroling door to door was circa 1993, there wasn’t any money begging involved. I imagine we brought tremendous joy into the lives of the people that heard our beautiful music. Who wouldn’t want to open their door to see a gaggle of teens singing out of tune?
I equally imagine that scores more people were touched by the grandeur of the Living Nativity put on by the church I went to that was staged every year in -10 degree weather. I’ve done it all; shepherds, wise men, angels…Sadly my acting career ended after playing Mary, I figured when you’ve reached that level of success that comes from holding a doll and sitting in a fake barn there is really nowhere higher to go. Last weekend I had the pleasure of viewing another Living Nativity put on locally here in NJ, which brought the memories of my glory days flooding back to me.

Wholly Epic, Batman

Last night I watched The Dark Knight on DVD. Now this is only the second time I've seen it - I resisted writing anything about it in July after my first viewing because I wanted to make sure I was commenting on the actual film rather than being swayed by the spectacle of IMAX (which was fantastic by the way).

I'm so happy the Batman franchise has been rescued from the likes of Joel Schumacher. I can't really comment on Batman & Robin as although I've sat down to watch it twice, I've never made it past the 15-minute mark. Its predecessor Batman Forever is poor, although slightly more watchable.

Now this is not to say that the Tim Burton Batman films are flawless. Although I was a huge fan of Batman upon its release in 1989, I can definitely see its weaknesses. In fact, it only has one true disadvantage in that it's a Tim Burton film. Name one of his films that doesn't suffer from style over substance. It's impossible! I can't really remember Batman Returns, although without Jack Nicholson - the true star of Batman - the film struggles with a lack of location shooting (a failing you can forgive the first film for, especially when Nicholson's on screen).

Which brings us to Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I had avoided the first film at the cinema, based purely on my experiences with Batman & Robin. Although I had seen Memento by this point, the fact that Christopher Nolan would be directing the 5th film didn't exactly have me jumping up and down. How wrong I was! It's nice to be wrong about films every once in a while, as long as they're as good as this. Upon finally watching ...Begins at the cinema (also my first experience of seeing a film in IMAX) I was blown away. Nolan and his screenwriter brother treat the subject matter with a huge amount of respect, something you don't typically get with Hollywood films.

With The Dark Knight, it's been hard to separate the film from the hype - what with Heath Ledger being murdered by one of the Olsen twins and then Christian Bale machine-gunning his family to death - but last night's viewing on the small screen gave me a chance to re-evaluate.

Some say the film is overlong. At 152 minutes, this is always going to be a bone of contention. I reckon it's just the right length. However, I do believe that the film suffers from an odd pacing towards the final half hour. With one denouement after another (rather than interlacing them for dramatic effect a la the George Lucas school of filmmaking), you start to get weary. Aside from this, the film is a prime example of how good Hollywood can make a film, given the right source material and people involved.

Although the supporting cast shined in Batman Begins, here they jostle for attention with a larger cast and a labyrinthine plot. It's a shame Maggie Gyllenhaal didn't get chance to portray Rachel Dawes in the first Nolan film as she's infinitely more watchable than The Cruiser's mind-slave/wife.

Aaron Eckhart is superb as Gotham's District Attorney, overshadowing Bale and Gary Oldman in every scene. It's a shame he'll probably be too old to play Captain America (in the film slated for a 2011 release) as he'd be a perfect fit. Although not playing their full game, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman are still a joy to watch, adding a touch of distinction to proceedings and grounding the film from its comic-book excesses.

I once read a story about Heath Ledger introducing himself at a party as 'Keith Fletcher', despite everybody at the party knowing exactly who he was. It's a terrible shame that he died, but his performance in The Dark Knight is a great final piece of work to leave behind (I'm going to conveniently gloss over The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus here as, like Tim Burton's oeuvre, Terry Gilliam's films also leave a sour taste in the mouth).

Yes he's made a few poor choices throughout his career but as the old saying goes, you're only as good as your last painting.

Pub Quiz

So tonight is Pub Quiz night, at out local Oirish pub in Howick. It's strange because despite considering myself to be a pretty intelligent and knowledgeable chap, we keep placing last. At first we only finished second or third to last but in recent weeks we've done nothing better than to finish bottom of the pile completely. Not bad when there's only 2 of us (and most of the other teams are made up of betwen 4 and 6 people).
Now this wouldn't usually bother me but I'm hardly in the most sophisticated country in the world. I reckon blind people and animals visit bookshops more often than the average New Zealander.
The thing that really riles me about the Pub Quiz is that there'll be whole rounds devoted to Sport where everybody will groan because the answer is so easy. "Who wore the number seven jersey for the All Blacks betwen 2002 and 2005?" Cue whole pub groaning (but not groaning loudly enough to give the answer away to us foreign types in their midst).
Other than this, there are so many questions regarding New Zealand, that it makes me think everybody got together in the 1980s for a secret meeting:
"Right, we need to do something about all these immigrants coming over and taking our jobs.."
"What about them winning the pub quizzes all the time?"
"Oh yeah - that too. Bastards."

So every Wednesday I have to humble myself because I don't know who the Coach of the Auckland Warriors is (I think that's a real team, but I'm not sure) or when the Cadbury's Train Robbery advertisment began airing on NZ television.
It's supposed to be General Knowledge but I believe it should be renamed Localised General Knowledge Heavily Biased Towards Sports.

Still, at least we do well in some rounds. We seem to blitz Music, TV & Cinema and Art & Literature every week. The other week the first question in the Music round was:

Who am I? I was born Steven Victor Tallarico in 1948 in Yonkers, New York.

I nearly ejaculated.

As winter approaches

Its half past two in the afternoon at the moment and I think that the sun has already set. I say think, because I never saw the sun today it's been so grey and overcast. And while so far the snow has mostly stayed away, its starting to get cold. But to all you people who keep complaining about the cold in the UK and saying that it must be worse for me - so far it hasn't been. It has been strange reading about Britain freezing while I'm wondering if it might be a bit early to wear a winter coat but eventually I suppose it will be colder here than the UK. It is meant to be minus degrees all this week so that might even have already happened.

Yesterday it was Independence Day. There is a party thrown by the President which the nation watches, although I have to say I don't know why. Essentially, about a million people (it seems, although it might be less than that) walk past the President and shake her hand. It takes about three hours, with a half time break during which they have the news - lead story: party at the presidents palace. By law, all cameras have to be taken out of the room by 10pm so it ends there and everyone settles down to watch the Unknown Soldier. Which is actually quite a good film. I didn't watch it though since I didn't understand what they were saying, but more importantly because Erittäin Salainen was on the other side. Not that I watched that either, in honesty. I went to bed instead.

But I thought that I would get into the spirit of Finnish independence by taking a cheap shot at the Russians. The Prime Minister of Finland, Matti Vanhanen, is a very tall man. Vladimir Putin is a very small man. He's also a very tough man though, so I'm not going to tell him. The two men met at some European summit the other week. The difference in size is quite noticable. He's even shorter than Tarja Halonen, the president. I'd say that it might be because Tarja Halonen is wearing high heels, but he probably is as well.

Vodka Tractors Rock n Roll

I went to see the Leningrad Cowboys on Saturday night. The concert was in a shopping centre in the middle of nowhere (or Lempäälä as it is sometimes called). The Leningrad cowboys themselves are pretty interesting and were being backed by the Red Army Choir. It was interesting to be watching a band standing next to a branch of H&M. The band themselves were pretty good. At least as good as a band doing covers of Sweet Home Alabama and Those Were the Days can be. With very large quiffs.



We queued up in the wrong bus queue afterwards which wouldn't have been so bad except that it was -5 or so, and felt worse because of the wind. It could have been worse too since tonight there is a pretty major snow storm blasting through Tampere. It took me a few beers afterwards to get the blood flowing to some of the areas more affected by the cold - my whole body essentially.

Anyway, the Leningrad Cowboys were from a 1989 film called Leningrad Cowboys Go America. And very good it is too. The follow up film, Leningrad Cowboys Meet Moses, is pretty good too. You should watch them sometime. I think that there are only a few of the original members left now but they are pretty good fun. It says something about Finland that one of the most popular bands here is a made up band with incredibly long quiffs and shoes singing covers of karaoke standards. I'm just not all that sure what it says exactly. All the same, here's a bit from the film.

Now pay attention, 007...

For as long as I can remember, I've always been a Bond fan. It's one of my guilty pleasures - one that has come round full circle now that Bond is considered cool again. So who is the best Bond? The majority would side with Connery, but the question's a no-brainer: the best Bond is the Bond you grew up with. I was born the year between The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker, so for me Roger Moore is Bond.

Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, there's a list of people I have resigned myself to never having the opportunity to meet. These are childhood heroes - mainly from the silver screen - who operate in a different world to my humdrum existence. On this list, quite near the top - if not number one completely - is Roger Moore. Or, Sir Roger Moore, to you. So it was with excitement that this weekend I had the opportunity to meet the great man and get his autograph in a copy of his new book:























After getting rushed through having my book signed, I decided to hang around and soak in the atmosphere. I reckon I could have taken him with a judo chop to the back of the neck here:


















Finally, after his allotted hour was over, I positioned myself in his route out of the store and managed to get a quick handshake:




(A big thankyou goes out to my own Moneypenny for capturing this moment).

Bank Crisis

There isn't a lot to add to this clip. It made me chuckle. There isn't much English TV that I watch here, but I watch Stephen Colbert every now and then on the internet and it is always funny.



It's almost as funny as the Happening, which I watched this week and found pretty hilarious. Apparently plants can talk to each other - it's been proven. And they can control their evolution. I won't say too much about it since Johnny said it so much better than I ever could already on here. All I say is to echo Mark Kermode and ask, what is making the wind blow?

Anyway, its Red Nose Day here in Finland so I'll get back to watching the Naked Clown.

Matthew Gibson: Still providing laughter from the other side of Europe

I am always pleased to hear that I am funny. Occasionally it is because of some pithy remark of mine. Unfortunately it seems that there are significantly many other occasions when people decide that I am funny because of my appearance. That's fair enough in a way - laugh at a man because of the clothes he choses to wear.

I think that it's a bit low on the other hand to be wiping tears of joy from your eyes laughing at 20 year old photos and videos. It's even more vicious to show said photos and videos to people being introduced to the family who know that particular person and will find them hilarious and attempt to distribute them among his other friends. And when that man (the one in the photos - keep up) isn't even living in the country and is unable to defend himself, well that's a disgrace.

And while I would do exactly the same thing if I got hold of any photos of Ben as a child, that's not the point - I don't have any so it is not fair to show him pictures of me. It is a completely different situation and if the photos were of anybody else it would be fine. But they're not, they're pictures of me, and as such it's just cruel.

I think that it's time that I redress the balance and so include here a photo of me at a fancy meal in my finery looking great among the type of surroundings to which I belong.



Incedentally, although the cake was excellent (and thanks even 20 years later to Lynn for making it) it did turn my shit green for a week. In my mind, that's what you eat cake for. What good cake doesn't turn your insides green?
And no, I wasn't drinking that Martini you can see on the table - my whisky was out of sight for this photo.

While 1000 birds circle overhead in the brooding red sky...

I'm getting back moving tonight. I will be playing Badminton tonight at Tampere Arena. I think that sounds quite extreme - like I would be playing in front of 15000 people. This actually happened to a guy I used to know, or so he claims. He was struggling to find a badminton court and found out that Manchester Veledrome sets up a few courts while there aren't any cycle races on. He turned up to discover that there were both badminton courts and cycle races. Unperterbed, they started playing. Unfortunately not a lot was happening was in the races and the crowd's attention was drawn to the action on the badminton courts. They chose their favourites and started cheering the results. The players were especially happy to get a round of applause after a particularly long ralley. Of course, he told me all this about ten years ago and I got the feeling then that he was stretching the story a little bit and I think that some of the details have been fixed wrongly in my head. I think that it's a nice story though. All the same, I expect that anybody watching me play my first badminton game in nearly 10 years will be sorely disapointed at the skills on display.

But winter is coming and I need to get moving before the extreme cold comes. Currently it's about +5 but Ulriikka doesn't think that it's winter coat cold. She thinks it's even too early to wear my fancy new wooly winter boots. I mean for me to wear my furry winter boots. Not her.

Incidentally, has anybody heard the results of the US presidential elections? The world media seems strangely quiet on the outcome. I assume that Mike Huckabee won.

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Blow Me

This week I'd like to salute Lord Bono of U2 for his sterling humanitarian charity work. For years and years, Bono has been banging on about the injustices of the world, and I suppose he's really only won me round this week with his latest bout of conscience-prodding. I'm referring of course to the leaked Facebook photos of him frolicking around with two 19-year old hotties. Talk about being 'Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of'.










Now, knowing Saint Bono, there's got be a good reason for all this. Maybe the bikini's themselves are the source of the issue. Perhaps 1% of their proceeds will go to solving some world crisis and Bono is testing a new advertising campaign for it - "Drop your knickers" rather than "Drop The Debt", or something.

Maybe the 2 girls are orphans, Bono is acting as an über-father figure and they just happen to be 19-year old 'hardbodies' (to quote the oft-unquoted Patrick Bateman). If this is true, and His Royal Bono-ness is merely taking the 2 poor things under his wing (in St. Tropez, as they sit on his knee) then surely he should be honoured for his altruistic behaviour. He even looks like he's praying in this one:










Bono has always been against the onslaught of Aids. The U2 song 'One' is rumoured to be about Aids, and a few years ago he was spokesman for that stupid red mobile where a tiny fraction of the proceeds went to Aids victims. So, maybe these photos are his special way of warning today's teens from the dangers of the HIV - 'do as I say and not as I do' and all that.

Still, he's totally my hero now. I'm just dissapointed that the rest of the band aren't in the photo. We could have had the drummer and the bass player standing in the background looking moody while another bikini-clad girl squats on top of The Edge's big bald head.

Instead, we get professional Bono-hanger-on Simon Carmody mugging the background. His pose seems to have been taken from a Carry On film - as though he is saying "Not arf..." or "Ooo Matron" - which lends the photo a certain comedic quality.

Bono's exploits will probably soon be followed by his underling and general-all-round Bono-wannabe Chris Martin. Perhaps, the Coldplay singer will take Bono's lead and warn against the perils of sex also. He could be a bit more specific and present a series of videos warning against the dangers of Golden Showers and Watersports - all set to one of the band's biggest songs:














"...and they were all yellow...".

There's Gonna Be Some Rockin'

I went to see Mamma-Mia (somehow I feel like I'm at some sort of alcohlics meeting: "My name is Matthew and I went to see Mamma-Mia"). I would say that it was one of the worst films I've seen in a long time. The story was bad, the acting was bad and the singing was truly awful - although Pierce Brosnan singing SOS has to be seen, or rather heard, to be believed. Somehow though, I actually enjoyed the film.

By way of atoning for watching Mamma-Mia or perhaps just to get the damn songs out of my head, I've been listening to AC/DC a bit more than usual. I find that nothing chases Chiquita out of your mind quite like Big Balls or Whole Lotta Rosie. But AC/DC are about a bit more than usual anyway. I hear that they are number one in the UK which is a surprise. But I guess that they have just been around long enough to get respectable. As John Huston says in Chinatown "Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough".

But the combination of Mamma-Mia and AC/DC mixing in my head gives me ideas and I have been thinking of the songs for my Broadway musical "There's Gonna be Some Rockin". We are intorduced to our hero as he sings "Problem Child". He gets mixed up with gangs ("Riff Raff") and we see the gangs getting into fights ("If you Want Blood (you got it)". But he meets a woman ("Girls Got Rhythm") and gives her some sweet talk ("Let me put my love into you") before falling in love with her ("Love at First Feel", "Whole Lotta Rosie"). He decides to turn his back on gangs and join a rock and roll band which gives the opportunity to pick any from about 250 songs about being in a rock and roll band that AC/DC have written. But lets go for "Highway to Hell", "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution" (after a neighbour complains about the noise) and, when his mum says she doesn't understand rock and roll, "Let There be Rock". He goes off on tour ("Its a Long Way to the Top") and comes back to town, which is called Black so he sings "Back in Black". Then they sing "Sin City" for no understandable reason. They have some relationship problems and split up for a while ("Beating Around the Bush"). Finally, he marries Rosie and they sing "You Shook Me All Night Long" together as the final ballad. It writes itself really, I just need to find a way to shoe-horn "For Those About to Rock" in there somehow.

Corry On Regardless

Speaking of feeling homesick, I must admit that I'm not. I keep catching the odd glimpse of Corry on the TV and for a second, I feel a pang of homesickness. And then, just as I'm replaying my youth in my head, using that Warburtons bread / cobbled road / boy on bicycle advert as the setting, I suddenly remember all the reasons I have enjoyed not living in the UK since February.

I've been very, very far away from the following:

• Inane reality-TV shows (Britain's Got Talent, Big Brother, X-Factor, I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here)
• Bad weather
• Chavs
• Rude people
• Violent crime rates
• Chris Moyles on Radio 1
• Saturday night prime-time television (anything involving Ant & Dec or the eternally pregnant/annoying Davina McCall)
• A radio network where the only choices are the BBC or commercial dance stations (with all stations tied to a playlist of 10 songs which revolve all day as if on a child's jukebox)
• Toffs
• Over-population
• Pidgeons
• Grime

I could probably list more, but I'm depressing myself.

Now this isn't to say that New Zealand is a paradise. It's pretty close, but it has its faults too. There is a general level of unsophistication over here which leads me to believe the country was colonised by philistines. The New Zealand Dollar is weak against what seems like almost every other currency in the world, which takes some getting used to - especially coming from somewhere like the UK where the Pound is so strong. There is no well-established public-transport network, so you have to rely on your car all the time (which is a problem when you fancy a pint after work).

But I suppose, whenever I think of how bad the UK can be, I always end up thinking of what was probably one of the worst weekends of my life. In May a few years ago, we went on a last-minute camping trip in North Wales on a Bank Holiday Weekend. Now I didn't really know what to expect, as I'd never been camping before other than at music festivals. I wish I had kept it that way - as our weekend was completely ruined by white-trash families playing Tony Christie's (Is This The Way To) Amarillo repeatedly, at full volume, from their cars. This was just after Peter Kay had re-released the song for Comic Relief. When the song would stop, somebody would walk over to the car and start it again. And again. And again. And again. This happened from around 2pm until midnight, and then again the following morning. Needless to say, we left around lunchtime the following day.

These days, with summer fast approaching, the opportunity to go down to the beach after work or at the weekend is very real. Golden sand, turquoise water and not a Tony Christie song in earshot.

Just in case I was starting to feel homesick

Manchester seems quite far away. I was dreaming about bacon butties at the weekend. I haven't managed to find proper bacon here, only the thin American style crispy bacon rashers. So I guess that's the first thing to kick in that I'm missing. Because even if I could get the right bacon, I wouldn't get the right bread - medium cut Warbutons (although Rathbone's would do in an emergency).

However, one thing that I'm not missing especially is the weather. As I write this, I can see out of my window and am able to contemplate this view:



They don't call Tampere the Manchester of Finland for nothing I suppose. But it does mean that whatever I might be missing about Manchester, I still get to experience horizontal rain spitting in your face at 100 mph, rivers of rain running along the side of the street, the lunge backwards as you realise the bus is just about to plough through the puddle in front of you. And, just for one moment, I'm back at home. I desparately try to keep the hood of my coat covering my whole head, but the best I can do still leaves my forehead exposed and my face completely wet. Whilst I wrestle with my coat, a man walks by holding the last shreds of his broken umbrella keeping about 2 square inches of himself dry. I give up and let the rain just wet me to the bone. I'm starting to feel at home here.

Nobody comes away from Get Smart with their reputation enhanced

I like Steve Carell. He's been in some stinkers but he was excellent in Little Miss Sunshine and on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. He more or less saved Dan in Real Life from total disaster, especially since it contained one of the most annoying families in film history. As opposed to families like the Kerrigans in the Castle, who are meant to be annoying, we are supposed to like the family in Dan in Real Life. In fact they are the kind of family that has crossword competitions and family aerobics sessions. The family-as-relationship-counsellor theme was done much better in While You Were Sleeping which managed to be both cheesy and enjoyable, while Dan in Real Life was just irritating.

I suppose that Carell is most famous for his role as Michael Scott in the Office. In Get Smart he appears to be playing Michael Scott starring as Maxwell Smart. Certainly it feels very close to Michael Scott at various points. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but hopefully it isn't a sign that he is being typecast. It could be that he just isn't a leading man. His better films (Anchorman, Little Miss Sunshine) don't feature him as a leading man. The 40 Year Old Virgin hinted that he could be the leading man, but he hasn't really lived up to that potential since.

Anne Hathaway is building a fairly strange film career. She started off in roles like the Princess Diaries films and seemed to quickly want to get out of that type of role. She started that by appearing in the Devil Wears Prada and Becoming Jane, but they were really just grown up versions of the Princess Diaries. In amongst all that though was an appearance in Brokeback Mountain. She tends to be overlooked when that film is considered (as does Michelle Williams), but that is the kind of role she should be aiming for. I notice that her next few films include Rachel Getting Married and Bride Wars. They could be Walter Hill style essays on the modern urban condition, but I don't expect it. So what she is doing in this film is beyond me. Echoing Gwyneth Paltrow's bizarre appearance in Ironman, she is merely here to watch Carell and emote about his behaviour. She's wasted in this film.

Get Smart passed me by as a TV show. I don't know if it is an accurate revival of the show, but it does point to two rather depressing features of modern film. Firstly it is yet one more 60s/70s show or film being ironically revived for a quick profit. For every Starsky and Hutch there are about 10 appalling recreations, mostly starring Nicole Kidman it seems - Bewitched, the Stepford Wives, etc, etc. More depressing though is the way that Mel Brooks' career is being recycled. Brooks long ago stopped coming up with new ideas - High Anxiety was over 30 years ago - and has since concentrated on parodying existing characters. Perhaps we should look at his recent output in this light, that he is now parodying himself. Except I don't think that this is the case. The remake of the Producers is truly awful. The only good jokes are those that were from the original and these are mostly hashed.

But despite all this, Get Smart isn't actually that bad - it just isn't that good either. In one scene Carell, in the toilet of an aeroplane, shoots himself repeatedly in the face with the harpoon feature of his Swiss Army knife before accidentally pressing the eject button and plummeting without his parachute. If you find that to be the height of comedy, you might like the film better than I did. I did enjoy it though; it's just I think that you're better off waiting for it to come out on DVD. Actually, save your money and just wait for it be on TV over Christmas next year.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

M. Night Shyamalan is a talented fellow. He might just be the greatest living film director. Not only has he assembled an impressive canon of films, but now he has gone one better than Hitchcock and invented an altogether new type of scary film - the film that actually tries to kill you.

Allow me to explain.

A few years ago, ol' Shyamalanadingdong was licking his wounds after the abysmal Lady In The Water:
"I need to come back with a hit movie, but all my fans are expecting a twist ending," he thought to himself. "How can I surprise them?"

At this precise moment, M. switched on the TV, and by a twist of fate, the Friends episode The One With The Race Car Bed was on. He watched as the show's hopeless Joey Tribbiani taught a group of aspiring soap-actors the secret of "sniff the fart acting". Shyamalan rolled off the couch in tears of laughter. He laughed so much, his sides hurt. It was at this exact point he had an epiphany!

He picked up the phone and called the President of 20th Century Fox. He took his latest film concept - the idea of a suicide-epidemic spreading over the globe - and pitched a new idea to the suit on the other end of the line:

"What if - open your mind real wide, and just imagine what if - instead of having a surprise twist ending in my next picture, I actually try and kill the audience by making them laugh...themselves...to...death?!?!? They'd never expect it!"

The exec - currently distracted by two 18-year old hookers blowing him - thought it was the greatest idea he had ever heard in his life, greenlit the idea, and hung up the phone.

Shyamalan got working almost immediately. He took his initial germ of an idea - a suicide epidemic - and quickly fleshed out a script. After reading his first draft, he sent it to the finest comic minds in Hollywood and asked them to re-write the screenplay as though it was an extended Saturday Night Live sketch.

The director began casting for his new film. He first cast John Leguizamo, as he remembered how funny he was in the Super Mario Bros. movie. He then cast Zooey Deschanel as the female lead (because he thought her name sounded amusing). But he still didn't have a leading man. Shyamalan thought long and hard but couldn't decide on anybody particular. Then he remembered the Friends episode and cast Marky Mark Wahlberg - a veteran of "sniff the fart" acting...















**********************************************************************************

The finished film is one of the worst films I have ever seen. The Happening is not just bad - it is offensive. Wahlberg appears to have lost any talent he displayed in Boogie Nights and I Heart Huckabees and on the strength of the classroom scene alone (where he appears to ask "Don't you care about the bees?" repeatedly for 10 minutes), he can now slip into a career in full-on comedy without anybody noticing any change in direction.

The script is terrible and the acting is wooden. Overall, the direction appears completely misguided. In 91 minutes, Shyamalan seems to have knocked down any respect he may have garnered from The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable and Signs. How can such a talented man go from Hitchcock to Ed Wood so effortlessly?

The film is not only dissapointing - it is insulting. In one scene, Marky Mark and his companions seek refuge in a roadside diner. A stranger at a near-side table shows a video he has been sent on his mobile phone of a man committing suicide in a zoo. The image we see - expertly framed and in perfect clarity - is shown on an iPhone in one of the most blatant pieces of product placement to ever grace the silver screen.

Not since Moulin Rouge have I ever been so insulted by a film. Not since Die Another Day have I ever been so dissapointed in a filmmaker. And not since Perfume: The Story of a Murderer have I ever laughed so much at a film that is not supposed to be funny.

Still, I'm looking forward to Shyamalan's next project - an autobiogaphical documentary which will explore the reasons why he's slowly morphing into a mid-1980s Michael Jackson.

1.21 jigawats...? GREAT SCOTT!!!

I was born in Royton, a small suburb in Oldham, Lancashire.

The village of Royton stands halfway between Oldham and Rochdale, and is comprised of a small shopping precinct, a library and a public swimming pool.

Since a very young age, I've always thought some of the features of Royton were very familiar. Allow me to explain:

One of the main landmarks of Royton is the clock tower:










This is situated on the roof of the Royton Public Library, which lies next to a zebra crossing:













Now, the road which this crossing lies on is called Rochdale Road. It is a very straight, flat road.

Here is what I have always thought: I can use the zebra crossing (and its proximity to the clock tower) to travel through time.

1. I need to find a car that is fast enough and contains time circuits and a flux-capacitor, I'm thinking of something like this:













2. I need to be able to predict when a bolt of lightning will strike the clock tower. I'm not sure how I will do this yet but I'm working on it. When I have this information, I will arrange for some electical cable to be ran from the clock tower down to a cable arranged between the posts of the zebra crossing.

3. I park the De Lorean at this junction:














The start point is also marked on the 2 following photographs in yellow (with the clock tower highlighted in green):

4. I accelerate the De Lorean from the start point, and time it just right so that I hit the cable - and the bolt of lightning - when the car reaches 88mph.

This will create a chain-reaction and will supply the 1.21 jigawatts necessary to achieve time travel.

Easy really.



























PS. Strangely enough, a few years back I played the Royton Assembly Hall - a stones throw from the zebra crossing - with my old band Delta 7, and we did indeed play Johnny B. Goode. A bit like this:

PPS. My parents were in the audience at the Royton Assembly Hall that night also, although I wasn't helping my Father fight the local bully or fend off the sexual advances of my Mother. Thankfully.