All entries for February 2007
February 21, 2007
The Jules and Lulu Show is a curious programme that ITV put out sometimes around 4am, and also quite likely the single most terrifying thing you could possibly watch while under the effects of a hallucinogenic drug.
Jules is a very gay man who is either on speed, or has something wrong with his brain chemistry such that it reproduces the effects of speed. Lulu is an odd looking sausage dog that Jules carries around with him like some sort of fashion accessory.
The basic premise is that Jules and Lulu visit the houses of two couples, who clearly have no idea what they’ve let themselves in for, where he engages them in the kind of crude and personal conversation that only really gay people can get away with, whilst the couple look a bit uncomfortable, or in the cases of some of the male partners, mildly angry.
After subjecting them to this, Jules ‘muffs them up’, which is what he calls putting earmuffs and a blindfold on, so he can run round their house, destroying their property. I’m not joking. I think Jules is supposed to have some sort of style-radar, and the items in the couples’ house tend to offend him, so he throws valuable heirlooms around, watches them smash on the floor, looks vaguely guilty for half a second, and then giggles and runs off to do something worse. Meanwhile, Lulu is just sort of wandering about the house, probably pissing as she goes.
Ostensibly the purpose of this wanton destruction is to pick out the ten most awful items from each couples house. Though in some cases, I think it’s just that there’s only ten items left in the house that Jules hasn’t broken in some way
The scene then switches to, for some reason, a field. Each couple is asked to take it in turns to try to guess out of their ten items, which three ones were the ones that Jules thought were the worse. Just to clarify, these aren’t just little household items, like fireplace ornaments and dolls. It’s often stuff like sofas, and TVs. I mention this, because after they’ve each selected an item from their ten, it’s then placed in a big pink crusher-truck (and yes, Jules does make a euphimism about the big pink crusher truck. About five times), and completely destroyed.
The first team to destroy the correct three items, ‘wins’. The losing team get a consolation prize of a golden dog bowl that’s clearly made out of plastic, which is ten times more tasteless than any of the items they’ve just stood by and watch be destroyed. Amazingly, on none of the times I’ve watched the show has the losing couple violently attacked Jules and Lulu, despite the fact that he’s messed up their living room, and made them crush their own bed, wardrobe, sofa and TV.
The winning team on the other hand get the amazing prize of the redecoration of a room in their house (presumably the room Jules ransacked earlier in the episode), though at no point is it entirely clear that the monetary value of the prize is more than the expense of the possessions that have been destoyed. In some cases, it is obvious that the couple have made a loss.
The whole show has a slightly frenetic nightmarish feel to it, and creates a definite sense of unease in me, as if I’ve unwittingly taken some bad drugs, or I’ve had a nervous breakdown but haven’t quite realised yet. This isn’t helped by the obvious low budget of the show, which somehow serves to make it seem all the more horribly real.
Nevertheless, it is quite compulsive once you’ve started watching it. I give seven stars out of ten (stars).
Here is a picture, which probably illustrates what I’ve just said.
February 14, 2007
BBC News 24 woman just informed me that North Korea have agreed to start doing what we tell them about nuclear weapons. She said this will hopefully set an example to Iran.
The way she said it, I couldn’t help but imagine the US as a long-suffering teacher in a classroom saying ‘look Iran, North Korea’s behaving himself now, why can’t YOU be good like North Korea?’. Meanwhile, North Korea is wanking furiously underneath his desk.
If this metaphor were continued, presumably we could say that Iraq was so naughty that the teacher was forced to invade (sexually violate?) Iraq, and as a result Iraq has developed schizophrenia and started self-harming.
And Israel is the teacher’s pet, because teacher’s his dad.
And all the middle-eastern countries, well, they’re a bit cliquey, and can be a bit mischeivous, but they generally behave themselves as long as Iran doesn’t encourage them.
And Australia is the thick kid who’s good on sports day.
And Scotland is the special needs kid who looks a bit like a goblin.
February 09, 2007
Yes, I know. It’s that time of year when every cool kid worth his salt casts his cynical eye over the union elections, and declares with sparkling wit that the whole affair is in fact a ‘big pile of shit’. It’s become one of those opinions, like ‘believing in God is rubbish’ and ‘George Bush is well stupid’, which while probably true, are voiced by so many vapid cretins joining the ‘let’s be a bit controversial’ fan-club, that I’m forced to convert to Christianity and become a staunch supporter of the war in Iraq, just to put some distance between them and myself.
That said, here’s my cool, edgy take on the subject.
I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t even have known there were elections on if someone hadn’t left the special election manifesto book, complete with inexplicable picture of Spiderman on the front, in the shitter. So I had a quick flick through it, raising my eyebrows at some of the candidates’ more ridiculous policies (“No more lectures in the morning. Or afternoon.”, “Free buses to take you anywhere on Earth”).
There was even a real policy (not a made up satirical one like the ones I did just now), that suggested trying to strong-arm the supermarkets into delivering all shopping to students on campus for free. Come on,Tescos is only a ten minute walk or less for most people on campus. Frankly, I’m insulted by the implication that all students are so inherently lazy, that they’d vote for a union president on the basis of not having to walk to Tescos. Even though I am inherently lazy, and would probably vote for a union president on the basis of not having to walk for Tescos. That is, if I thought Tesco’s doing free delivery to everyone on campus was even a remote logistical possibility. Which it clearly isn’t.
But looking at these increasingly ridiculous manifesto promises, I came to realise what all the candidates had clearly also realised: no-one cares about the union elections. These stupid policies weren’t necessarily evidence of stupid people, rather it was evidence of people clearly desperate to get even a flicker of interest from the majority of the student population.
Well, it didn’t work. Myself, I would have put down the special manifesto book, flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and completely forgotten about the whole thing, had I not happened to be playing pool with a friend in the Union this afternoon.
As it was, I was happily winning at pool when I was accosted by a union man. ‘Have you voted yet?’, he asked me in a desperate voice. I briefly considered saying ‘yes’, so he would go away, but instead for some reason I said ‘no’, at which point I had another special manifesto book thrust into my hand, and was ordered to go and vote, because no-one else had, and if they didn’t get any more voters, then they’d have to do the whole thing all over again (presumably forever). He did say we could finish our game of pool first though. Nice guy. Seriously though, he looked like a kid at his eighth birthday party just coming to the realisation that even though he gave an invitation to all the kids, none of them are going to show up. Because none of them like him.
Well, what was I going to do? Flick through the manifesto book and pick who to vote for on a purely arbitrary basis, like who has the worst hair, or which one used the word ‘and’ the most times in their manifesto? If they want to generate votes like that, they might as well get a monkey to randomly check all the slips.
Personally, if I had voted, it would have been for one of the candidates who hadn’t submitted a manifesto. Seriously, you can submit a manifesto with a picture of you gurning like the last lunatic in the asylum, or you can have dignity, but you can’t have both.
But of course, I didn’t vote. And by the time I was accosted by another union man when I was leaving, I’d learnt my lesson, and politely answered ‘Yes. We voted just now’.
So, who’s at fault for all the voter apathy? Is it me, the apathetic voter? Shit, it is, isn’t it? But I don’t think this is your common or garden ‘too cool for school’ apathy. Rather, I just genuinely don’t think that I would be able to correctly identify the best candidate for the job based purely on their ridiculous manifestos. And I’m not prepared to take the time out to go and investigate extensively to find out who’s the best because, I think, ultimately all candidates are much of a muchness. It’s not like one candidate is going to tear down the Union and build a Death Star, and the other candidate is going to bring about peace on Earth for all men. They’re all going to do broadly the same thing, I imagine.
The best solution I can come up with is drawing names out of a hat. That, or turning the union elections into a prime time reality show on ITV, and getting everyone to text their vote in. Yeah, I went there.
February 08, 2007
It's probably the best snowman ever.
February 06, 2007
I watched High Fidelity yesterday for the first time in ages, and came to a startling discovery: John Cusack literally can't get enough of Before and After Science by Brian Eno.
There it is. Look, with the red line. I appreciate that this evidence alone isn't particularly convincing, since he has about a million records. But now, look here.
Ok, so I'm lying. This is the same set of records, but a different scene. However, if you look closely, the piles do seem to have been moved around a bit, and also the cover of the Eno album has been rotated 90 degrees clockwise.
There you go. Not only does he have it on vinyl, he has it on cd as well. Look he's even examining the track list. It's not going to play on that record player though, is it? Someone should tell him
And as if any more proof were needed, here it is again, in John Cusack's special record store.
I rest my case.