Which feature do you miss most?

Saturday 28 February 2009

One-Shot (28/02/09)

I won't lie to you: this post is about sport too. Rugby, this time. Wait! Don't go. You'll enjoy this just as much if you don't care about The Reds OR The Blues. Possibly, more so. Succinctly, Irish Captain Brian O'Driscoll shows why sportsmen and women should deal only in cliche. When they try something fancy, this happens. Still love ya, Brian.

As for today...

Come on, Ireland! Come on!

Bet you never saw that one coming.

20 - Anatomy Of A Hat-Trick

-or- Get Hi 2: Hier and Hier*

Now, in an Ian Dreams Exclusive, Chris Kamara interviews The Ginger One on his FIFA 09 online career.


Chris Kamara - "Ian, you've got off to an unbelievable three-game winning streak on FIFA 09. Has it sunk in yet?"

Ian - "I've been building up to this for months, trying to stay sharp and keep my eye on doing the job on the park. Yesterday, that's what I did. So yes, I'm very happy."

Chris Kamara - "That's an unbelievable understatement, Ian. First, you did the business with Bayern Munich in an unbelievable 2-0 win against your pal David's Barcelona. Then, an unbelievable win with Northern Ireland over England on penalties. What did that double mean to you?"

Ian - "More than words. Our win over England in 2005 was one of the highlights of my life. Achieving that result myself was little short of life-affirming."

Chris - "It wasn't all plain sailing was it, though? Dave put up an unbelievable challenge!"

Ian - "Absolutely, Chris. I was under no illusions going into the game how tough it was gonna be. But I said to myself - to all the boys in that dressing room - we go out there and we do it for Ulster. We go out there and beat them for every scrote from Ballymena to Ballyhackamore... for everyone with nothing but football in their hearts, and we did. They became men last night, those boys."

Chris - "What about your unbelievable first Northern Ireland league game against the mysterious challenger hynsebollox? Your fledgling Munich team were under the cosh in the first half, and went one - nil down to his unbelievable Inter Milan side. Did you ever think you might have met your match?"

Ian - "I knew, immediately, I was dealing with a serious contender, but my determination was constant. Once bollox scored, he grew complacent. That was our way back into the match. He became hasty, misplacing simple passes and so on. Identifying this, I pegged him back with constant pressure; I crafted patient, clear chances, while he snapped wildly at shots. Once I equalized, the game was mine. His panic proved to be his undoing."

Chris - "You famously caused a sensation when you transferred from Pro Evolution Soccer to FIFA, back in December. A lot of people wondered whether you might need a while to adapt. What do you say to those people now?"

Ian - "Three wins out of three speaks for itself. We're a young team, still learning, but we've sent a very clear message to our competitors, both North and South, that there's a new force in Irish football."

Chris - "Totally unbelievable. Unbelievable unbelievable unbelievable, unbelievably. Unbelievable?"

Ian - "I think that's a fair assessment."

Chris - "Thank you, Ian."

Ian - "Thanks. Well done."

--

* Non-football fans, get ready to skip!

Friday 27 February 2009

One-Shot (27/02/09)

Evan Rachel Wood made "the list." That list - "Dream Women." Not the women I fantasize about being with, although she'd be on that one too. Instead, it's the list of women I have literally dreamed of.

No, not like that. Seriously. In an interesting change of pace from the Katherine Heigl prototype dream, this one didn't take the course of "impossibly beautiful woman asks me out; the end." Me and Evan were talking (about what I can't remember) on a brick wall (?) I stroked her hair (!); we made out (!!). The end.

So Ms Wood has made it onto two of my favourite lists. But will she number amongst my All-Time 25 Sexiest? Only time (and your "yes" votes) will tell. Keep believing.

Thursday 26 February 2009

One-Shot (26/02/09)


Ye call that pole-axed? Woop woop woop!

Great, right? It's nice looking forward to a new Simpsons again. Must of been a slow news day here yesterday 'cos 'In The Name of The Grandfather' (nice) and its impending St. Patrick's Day premiere (nice) made quite a splash on the news. If the potato men don't strike, I dunno what they'll do. Woop woop woop!

Wednesday 25 February 2009

One-Shot (25/02/09)

I was up for the game. I hoped United were too. As is so often the case, though, I expected the worst. So when we set upon Inter like peanuts on butter, it was beautiful. Every shot of the so called "Special One" trying to hide his panic on the touchline was a triumph for human decency. It was a vindication that, as I assured my father before the game, I bore not fear towards him, only a boundless desire to see him put in his place (the sub-Fergie pretender bracket.) The Mouth earned his bread beforehand, saying this and that about United probably not even coming to the San Siro to attack, and stoking his own self-satisfied flames.

As is so often the case with his kind, he didn't have nearly as much to say on the pitch as he did off it. United violated Inter Milan with all the respect of a masked maniac. We were Mike from Swingers, "a Big Bear with big claws" just kind of batting them around, "poking them." Unlike Mike though, we knew just what to do with them - batter. That we didn't score at least once is a travesty. A combination of bad finishing and the delayed entrance of Wayne Rooney stopped us. Just.

Matches like that make me wish I'd made it, and not for the first time lately. But you knew that already. You probably thought it as soon as the words "game" and "United" appeared. Before I squander what (if any) goodwill remains from non-football readers, let me say this to United regarding the return leg:

You are Clarence J. Boddicker, they are Emile, the goop-soaked goon. Floor it.

Tuesday 24 February 2009

One-Shot (24/02/09)

Recent attempts to reach the end of last week's Smodcast have been destroyed like so many Ewoks. iTunes wouldn't download it, the mp3 wouldn't play for me, and don't even start me on the pop up "buffering" on kangaroo petrol.

The pay-off was worth it, though. Episode 76, "The Great One" reunites Kevin Smith with the long-absent Scott Mosier and the results are among their greatest ever. Mos's travelogue is often hilarious, but it really rockets when Wayne Gretzky comes into figurative play. On this evidence, he'd make a crackin' guest. After my footballing musings of yore, the parallels between the Canadian hockey legend and myself are undeniable. Passion-wise, of course. There's a beer in Belfast with your name on it, Wayne.

Speaking of pay-off: Episode 77, "Nipple Rot" arrived bright and early this week. Get right in.

Monday 23 February 2009

One-Shot (23/02/09)

A year ago, I would've have zero compunction about staying up to watch the Oscars live. Very possibly, in their entirety. Nowadays, it's Sky+ all the way. Observations:

  1. Hugh Jackman's a bit good.
  2. Tina Fey + Steve Martin are class acts.
  3. Even though Dan spoiled the two awards I was most looking forward to via Facebook, I'm still really looking forward to them.
I forgive you, Dan. I forgive you.

Sunday 22 February 2009

One-Shot (22/02/09)

The following post represents the views of the author and the author alone. The suggestions made therein are just that: suggestions. They are to be taken under advisement and are not the work of backhand NBC palm-greasing shenanigans. After much consideration, the author thought better of adding that he " wouldn't mind having Tina Fey grease his palms." Understandable, really.

--

As I mentioned on Friday, the second season of '30Rock' has finally made it to The Box. In my darkest hours, I thought that day might never come. Thanks for tempting me back off the mediocre TV ledge, Five USA!

At this point, just about everyone interested in worthwhile programming will have either watched a little, intended to watch a little, or decided that they have no sense of humour, sold their TV, and pulled a Walden. If you are of the latter persuasion, I hope you brought a journal to record how much you miss TV. However, if you fall into either of the first two categories, get your ass to Amazon or Play stat. There's never been a better time to catch up with Liz, Jack, Tracy, et al. Season One, at 13 bones 99*, is a snip.

What's that I hear no-one asking? How were the first two episodes? Pretty good. Seinfeld was a bit iffy in the first, and only really came to the fore when Liz simultaneously cried/impersonated him. Though, Tracy's 'Werewolf Bar mitzvah' video was easily on par with such classics as Fat Bitch and Who Dat Ninja? In terms more befitting this blog, the double-bill was the televisual equivalent of Phyllis Deitrichson showing you her legs at the top of a tall stairway; the best, one hopes, is still to come.

*Porn about a promiscuous, superstitious android?

Saturday 21 February 2009

One-Shot (21/02/09)

I've been called many things in my life, many less than flattering. However, sometimes people make you happy. By way of a for instance, I was made an officer in the Facebook group 'Admiral Ackbar is a pathetic, lying cheat' - http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/group.php?gid=53001405278&ref=ts. My title: "Sith Gangsta." Outstanding.

Friday 20 February 2009

2 Things

Today sees the arrival of two things worthy of your attention, each for very different reasons, each with a connection to the number 2.

1. The second episode of Back-Talk*, this very blog's own podcast has arrived (http://media.switchpod.com/users/grandiloquentvagaries/BacktalkEpisodeTwoSexLivesOnAudiotape.mp3 )!
You can also get your introspective fix via iTunes. If you listened to Episode One, you'll be in for a surprise... *pause for gasps*
2. The second season of '30Rock', finally, makes it to local screens! Five USA, how I love thee.

End communication.

One-Shot (20/02/09)

"The Trouble With Sky Movies"
an original observation
by Some Guy

FADE IN:

INT. SKY TELEVISION OFFICE - DAY

Two young executives are buried under a tonne of paperwork at a huge desk.

EXECUTIVE 1 - What are we gonna' do, Chet? How can we possibly select films to show on our Sky Movies Modern Greats channel?

EXECUTIVE 2 - I don't know, George. It's just such a vague name. I mean, how does one define what is "modern" or "great" for that matter?!

Executive 1 rips up out of his seat and snaps his fingers.

EXECUTIVE 1 - By Joe, I've got it!

EXECUTIVE 2 - Joe? You told me it was over!

CUT TO:

INT. JOE SOAP'S HOUSE - DAY

Joe Soap is looking through his television guide while his wife, Barbara Soap, plays her mandolin.

BARBARA - Say Joe, would you see what's on Sky Movies Modern Greats later?

JOE SOAP - Sure thing, baby doll.

He turns to the Sky Movie Channel listings.

JOE - Let's see... Modern Greats, Modern Greats. Ah, here we go.

Joe scans down the schedule.

7.30am - War of the Roses (1989)
9.30am - The Breakfast Club (1984)
11.15am - Gremlins 2: The New Batch (1990)
1.35pm - Charley Varrick - (1973)
4.05pm - Maverick - (1994)
6.15pm - see 9.30am.
8.00pm - The Man With The Golden Gun (1974)
10.15pm - You Only Live Twice (1967)
12.20am - Sleepers (1996)
2.50am - The Wicked Lady (1983)
4.35pm - see 4.05pm.

Joe rips up out of his seat.

JOE - That's it! I'm canceling our Sky subscription, dagnabbit!

BARBARA - Golly Joe! Whyever for?

JOE - This schedule is a joke. There's not a single film made in the 21st century - in the last ten years - on their "Modern Greats" channel, by George!

BARBARA - George? You told me it was over!

FIN

Thursday 19 February 2009

One-Shot (19/02/09)

  1. Basic structure for new song? Check.
  2. Beginnings of juvenile, lovelorn lyrics? Check.
  3. Lack of concern over predictable subject matter? Check.
OK Tank, load the "Singing" program.

Wednesday 18 February 2009

One-Shot (18/02/09)

Bit of a strange day these last 24 hours. By turns ominous and fun. How does one give the recession the Spaceballs royal salute? Simple.
  1. Rejoice at the return of Smodcast (and Mos!) after a one-week hiatus. (http://www.newsaskew.com/2009/02/17/mosier-reunites-with-smith-for-record-setting-smodcast-76/)
  2. Download and listen to said Smodcast at your convenience. (http://www.quickstopentertainment.com/2009/02/17/smodcast-76/)
  3. Watch the adorable Allison Weiss play her music and cover a multitude of indie gems. (http://www.youtube.com/user/amlingisrad) Grab a guitar and double your pleasure!
  4. Revise list of expendables for "Operation: Fresh Start."
Oh. I've said too much. Where's that amnesia ray?

Tuesday 17 February 2009

One-Shot (17/02/09)

Premier Football is the only Facebook application worthwhile. Even if you're not a fan, it offers depth and longevity far beyond that of the usual "Secret Crush" or "Give Us A Kiss" tat that vie for your attention. It's far from perfect, sure, but I love it all the same. A bit like Rangers, really. Lately, I've noticed the app's tendency to award curious Man (or Woman) Of The Match Awards. In the most egregious cases, one could single-handedly lead his or her cohorts to glory, scoring in the process, and still fall short of the prestigious "bottle of bubbly." Hardly infuriating, but puzzling all the same.

Then.... today...

Northern Irish Patriots Result

Stadium: Breeze Block Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Home to the Patriots)

Northern Irish Patriots - 3, Asgard Division - 0

Ian "Bungle Bear" Pratt, 18
Ian "Bungle Bear" Pratt, 22
Ian "Bungle Bear" Pratt, 32

Man of the Match: Ian "Bungle Bear" Pratt

Attendance: 11,004

That's what I'm talking about.

19 - Review: Punisher: War Zone

*SPOILER ALERT*

If you don't wanna know who dies, don't think about this film.

Did you like Rambo? If your answer is anything other than "yeaaah, boy! Dat was tiiight", or words to that effect, I'll understand if you don't proceed any further. Punisher: War Zone is a movie for every 14 year old with a hard on for human extinction. Fitting really, as it has all the subtlety of a boner in a supermarket queue. For example, what does the Punisher do to a helpless henchman? What anyone holding a child would; blast his head off with a shotgun at point-blank range.*

"Vengeance has a name", according to the tag-line. On this evidence, Ray Stevenson's Punisher deserves to become the principal definition for the term from now on. Did remorse and restraint leave his vocabulary a long time ago? Baby, they weren't there to begin with. Frank Castle lives to murder, and he enforces his unique brand of justice with all the glee of a sex-starved traffic warden.

Wisely, Punisher: War Zone follows The Incredible Hulk's lead by shepherding much of the necessary back-story into the opening credits. A smart move, as only fans of the character and movie carnage in general will be seeing this. The Mob kills Frank Castle's family. He kills them back. That's your lot, plot-fans. Drama is a non-entity throughout. Instead, director Lexi Alexander treats us to a whistle stop tour of pantomime New York's destruction, one hired goon at a time. Agents with names like Budianski square up to one another while "Krispy Kreme" cops spout off about internal affairs and such. So bad it's fun? You bet. To its credit, War Zone flaps its black-hearted comic book credentials out for all to see**. Where else could a deathfest as momentous as this film's climax be police-proofed by calling in "a fireworks permit?"

Bad guys can save a film like this. Dominic West and Doug Hutchison understand this. They also understand that without a couple of insane performances, this film would be an unmitigated disaster. Both actors had as much fun working here as I did watching them. As Billy "The Beaut" and James "Loony Bin Jim" Russoti respectively, they do all the heavy lifting. For their troubles, they walk off with the film. West, in particular, both pre-and-post Jigsaw transformation, is so distractingly awfulgreat that he must be seen to be believed. Ever wondered how an R-Rated, psychopathic Fat Tony would roll? Wonder no more. Narcissistic misogyny hasn't been this funny since Pat Bateman.

There's no way I of all people could end a review of this film without mentioning Maginty, the Irish/American/Jamaican leader of Jigsaw's "Urban Freeflow Gang" (translation: acrobat Punisher target-practice.) The sight of one his subordinates being vaporized mid-leap by a surface to air rocket is worth the price of admission (and possibly the eventual Blu-ray) alone.

Watch it: to see a hard-as-balls Northern Irishman knock a few zeros off America's criminal population.
Don't watch it: because when someone says "Heat", you think Jodi Marsh, not Tom Sizemore.
Ranking: 5.5 (Amusingly Disposable Crewman.)

* Making the movie a sure-shot for this year's "Outstanding Contribution to Smouldering Head Stumps" Award.
** And you thought there wouldn't be any more phallic imagery?!

N.B. Excellent pic from The Best Of Wizard Basic Training: How To Draw Volume 1. Go buy!

--

Ian Pratt hopes Rambo Vs The Martians will be next year's obligatory Spring Action Romp.

Monday 16 February 2009

18 - Review: Friday The 13th

Knowing full well what his response would be, I asked my brother if he fancied going to see Friday The 13th with me. He immediately informed me that he had no such intention. Seeing this likely generic, tiresome horror film would be a waste of his and my time. He, for one, wouldn't loose sleep wondering what he's missing.

He was right. Friday The 13th is an average horror film. It boasts a few good scares, routine terror, and everything else you can find at the local unemployment office. Within that bracket, it inches towards the upper end of the scale. A bit like a terrified teen grasping for freedom from a masked madman's underground lair, as a lame movie reviewer might say. And just like the archetypal Horror Teen, it doesn't make it.

The film benefits greatly from a balls to the wall, "let's throw it all in there" approach. A bit like what Rob Zombie tried to do with Halloween, before he bottled it and started remaking the original half-way through, Van Sant-style. The fanboy friendly script delivers the Quintessential Friday premise - kids come to the woods to party, they perish - and gives it the Platinum Dunes face-lift care of director Marcus Nispel (Pathfinder.)

An admirable effort is made to generate empathy with the soon to be destroyed. Thanks to some good work by Jared Padalecki ("Supernatural"), Amanda Righetti (Role Models), and Danielle Panabaker (Sky High), it's not phsically impossible to care for (some of) the victimized. On the flip side, the splendidly contemptable "Jock" Travis Van Winkle and "Hussy" Julianna Guill are fun to watch fornicate and pay for it.

As a slasher movie, in the classic pre-Scream sense, is a porn movie with "cum shots" swapped for annihilations, the build up patter is crucial. Here, the script falls short of delivering both the desired level of pre-wipeout blue balls* and tension. Like 'Next Generation'-era Star Trek** movies, you can tell where you're supposed to be laughing, but you aren't. Writers Damien Shannon and Marks Swift & Wheaton clearly have great reverence for the genre. Unfortunately, they commit that classic football mistake - showing too much respect. The result is the flat, occasionally stilted dialogue of Bad Exploitation Movies. And not in the good, Planet Terror way. Still, there's enough graphic sex to ensure the only blue balls viewers have will be figurative.***

Kudos are deserved for the arrival of a genuinely menacing, credible Jason Voorhees. Not saying much given the competition granted, but Derek Mears sets a new benchmark for the modern horror icon. Whoever dons Freddy Kreuger's tatty fedora in the impending A Nightmare On Elm Street has his work cut out (snort snort.)

So Friday isn't any great shakes. But if you want to see beautiful, promiscuous kids slaughtered in a stylish package, (and let's face it, what well adjusted person doesn't?) it'll do rightly. If you want to be one step ahead of said teens from start to finish, anticipating every gouge, dismemberment, and "twist", this is your flick. There's nothing new for you here but, when conventions are used this competently, who cares, right? Not the horror franchise apologists and hormonal upstarts sure to bankroll Part 2 by flocking en masse, anyway. Ultimately, this is their movie, and they'll have a blast.

Friday The 13th won't convert any horror abstainers, but it could be a great gateway flick to the really good stuff for the curious. It's OK, you won't lose any sleep over this one either.

See it: to get your sick rocks off for 90 minutes.
Don't see it: because this sort of tripe, not bad parenting/blood, is to blame for our kids going off the rails.
Ranking: 6/10 (Ensign.)

* Surely, the most beloved phrase of this blog?
** Trekkers/Trekkie's, look out for "DS9's" Nana Visitor as Jason's ma!
*** See?

N.B. Picture from this month's excellent, horrortastic Empire. Go buy!

--

Ian Pratt chi chi chi... ha ha ha.

One-Shot (16/02/09)

Life - So it looks like you're dying alone. How's that working out for you?
Me - Eat it, spaffhat.

Sunday 15 February 2009

One-Shot (15/02/09)

I'm back, baby.

Maybe it's the wealth of televised sport available today (come on, Ireland/United!) Maybe it's Dave getting a PS3, or just the passing of yesterday's lonely Valentine's funk. All I want to know is "how long is my good mood gonna last?" No, screw that for a boat ride. That's like knowing what disposable indie tripe's coming up next on MTV2. Nah, I'm enjoying the upswing too much to care.

I won't lie: the poll (above) is helping. That there are people out there who want to know my 25 All-Time Sexiest people puts the bad taste sex metaphor of your choice on the end of this sentence. In fact, yesterday's Other Miscellany (below) pleased me so much that I now know what I must do. The thought of writing that list is too appealing to squander. That said, I will now attempt to convince you that saying "yes" is not only right, but an entertainment imperative.

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
BROUGHT TO YOU BY IAN

My fellow Internauts (Chris, I'm gonna help you bring it back or literally "fail" trying),

Are you tired of myopic "sexiest" lists predicated on collecting boring ant-girls and square-jawed Clooney clones? So am I. If you support me in this bid to unleash my list, I promise to deliver a truly enlightened effort. I respect and appreciate all (three) of you too much to demean us all with "promises" to "cater to all tastes." With my preferences especially, this was always going to be impossible. No-one (except maybe me and Chris) wants to read Ian's 25 Sexiest Redheads List, I would wager. Hence the poll's modification.

I will, however, promise to forge a group comprising those I "fancy" or have done in the past, while not ruling out those I don't or have never.

How, then, can a heterosexual guy deliver an "enlightened", remotely objective sexiest list? Simple: by tearing down the borders, Anti-Flag style. Just because I wouldn't want to, doesn't mean you wouldn't. Ergo, all bets are off. You think I won't include Martin Sheen just 'cos I don't wanna bone him? You think wrong. Like all non-repressed straight guys, I can admit when someone of the same sex is attractive; this remarkably simple yet oft overlooked concept promises to validate this list like some sort of erotic parking ticket.

What about Jason Segel, the most consistently charming onscreen presence since John Cusack? He might feature, he might not. There is, as they say, only one way to find out, folks. If you want a Sexiest List worth reading, one that appraises people, male or female, famous or infamous, Romulan or Bolian, by treating them like people and not pieces of meat, you know what to do: vote yes! It'd be like the After Ellen list, but, y'know not just for lesbians. And bi-chicks. I promise. Thank you.

Hopefully yours,
Ian

Saturday 14 February 2009

Other Miscellany (14/02/09)

I don't want to change my vote. I want to see the 25.

In other news, I'm angry and depressed. Post to follow.

Don't wait up. Go to sleep.

ZZZ

One-Shot (14/02/09)

Wanted: one twenty-two year old manboy for good times and maybe more (self-knowing lulz!) As I have a personality, I hate the whole "tall dark and handsome thing." My kinda guy laughs at life's little quirks and others falling down. Something in the "less charming John Krasinski" ballpark, perhaps? My dream date would be sharing a massive Ulster Fry with the right person, followed by a Re-Animator marathon. Gotta go, I just logged into the PlayStation Network; Scouse ass won't whip itself!

P.S. I'm a drummer.

Sexily yours (!),
Dee Reamwoman

How's that for timing!

Friday 13 February 2009

One-Shot (13/02/09)

"In your dreams you've seen it all/
through a window so far off/
remember watching while your lightning blue eyes reflected sunrise."

'Lightning Blue Eyes',
Secret Machines

True that.

Thursday 12 February 2009

One-Shot (12/02/09)


It's a sorry state of affairs when your football mastermind brother has, to use Jedi parlance, "a bad feeling" about a game against San Marino. All the more reason to take solace in Nigel Worthington's Green and White Army securing a comfortable three-nil win last night against the sky blue minnows.

http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/sport/football/international/job-done-as-northern-ireland-beat-san-marino-14183486.html

Better still, said victory takes us to second place in Group 3, just behind leaders Slovakia, and ahead of the Czech Republicians, Polands, Slovenias, and San Marinoeneses. Yes, we shouldn't really be so relieved by yesterday's triumph. Yes, our competitors have a game in hand over us. We've also already played and won both legs against the "*expletive deleted* fishermen", as Neil described them, a feat everyone else will surely match. Still, for now, enjoying the nosebleed is all that matters.

Elsewhere, the night threw up some other noteworthy results. The South saw off Georgia 2-1, Holland drew one-all away at Tunisia, and both Spain & Argentina proved their class with 2-0 wins over England and France, respectively. All of which probably means nothing to anyone reading this in the hope of shenanigans akin to yesterday's One-Shot. If so, lend us yer voice/s in the comments section below and Mon Calimari's favourite son may, just may return...

UPDATE!

Post-match report: tonight's "five-a-side" game from the Valley.

This evening saw a calm, friendly five-a-side match with, of course, not five players on both sides. The teams were as follows:

The End Near the Gate-

Big Phil - tall, temperamental.
Big Dave - wee Paul's older brother. Go figure.
English Mark - dead-on if ball-greedy city fan.
English Arsenal Fan (Ryan?) - dead-on, strong on the ball.
Sticky - dead-on rock enthusiast.

The End Near the Woods-

Neilly Boy - the Bro.
Me - the Bro's wee bro.
Wee Paul - see above.
Stephen - a class act, thoroughly dead-on.
Joe - dead-on if perplexing.
Frasier - poacher extraordinaire, Big Phil's dad.

As is the custom, the exact score of the match has already been forgotten. I think we won by a few, though, after playing some nice stuff. Neil complimented me on my performance, afterwards; high praise indeed. I got a nice wee left foot jab into the far corner and played poor-man's Berbatov for the remainder: tracking back, setting up others and making a nuisance of myself generally. Fun fun fun. Took on Arsenal a few times and lashed what would've been a top corner screamer but for a great save. Typical. Wee Paul gets better all the time. Kinda scary. Neil, Joe, and Stephen were all great and Frasier showed why he'll never lose it. Good game, lads. Good game.*

*Translation for non-football people: "The Reds played the Blues in the Cup. The Reds won."

Tuesday 10 February 2009

One-Shot (10/02/09)

Brett Ratner (above, left) contemplates an impending ass-whupping from unforgiving X-Men fans, on the set of Gomorrah.

Empire go with Jonathan Pryce look-alike joke, instead. Meanwhile, a young man laments his sub-par c(r)aptions dieing in despair. The End.

Monday 9 February 2009

One-Shot (09/02/09)


Today, I (above) have Robert Pattinson hair.

<< >>

Where are all the chicks? I thought that would be like a Kristen Stewart Bat Symbol! Must be the eyebrows... or the gingerness.

Anyway, Frankmusik's '3 Little Words'* is ridiculously catchy. No problem with that. But who, as I mused with Ellie the Wise last night, does he look like? A dash of Michael Carrick**, perhaps? That's mostly due to the hair. No... it's somebody else.

A-ha!
https://secure.bebo.com/PhotoAlbumBig.jsp?MemberId=6509340916&PhotoNbr=1&PhotoAlbumId=7581845673

It's none other than Larne's finest (sorry, Therapy?) Leslie "Denz" Watson! Yes, the Beneath the Sleeping and ex Moral-Panic, 4Told, Dartboard Wombat, Kreuger's Sprog, and Vote For Me singer/guitarist/all-round Lothario! Currently located in Bangor, Co. Down, Denz joins the likes of Ash and Snow Patrol, all of whom have Patrick's fort connections, in making the region a better place.

Now that that non-mystery's out of the way, we can all go on with our lives.

* http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7766430.stm
** http://www.manutdpics.com/pictures_489199/detail.html

Sunday 8 February 2009

Inevitable Ireland Victory Comment

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/rugby_union/7876810.stm

Red-Top style headline: "Brianstorm! O'Driscoll Crucial As Ireland Fend Off Fighting French"

I've heard worse.

One-Shot (08/02/09)

Update for Thursday's entry!
Work is progressing on the aforementioned horror idea. Slowly, of course. But I'll take what I can get. Broke out with On Writing yesterday. Steve's no-nonsense prose encourages me to press on into them thar woods, dark and treacherous though they be.

Negotiating the supernatural element is harder than that bit in Onimusha with the water doofer. Nonetheless, I am resolved to proceed until success or proof of its impossibility is gained. Either I'll give it a dry run as a short story or try for a treatment. Research now, waffle later. Actually, play bass now, then watch United, then research.

17: A Good Idea

Not to prolong Christophe's blue balls, but my faith in Hideo Kojima is restored. After the prior (and, indeed Pryor-level) frustration documented with Metal Gear 4's "Drama", I thought it impossible. Yesterday, though, I reached Act 3's (anti-)climax and what I presumed was journey's end. Given that most Hollywood films employ this structure, and the game apes blockbuster action so closely, everything suggested Snake's exploits had concluded.

The usual debriefing stat screen appeared. Then I, like Snake, was plunged back a decade... to Shadow Moses. For a fan, the chance to play through the moment most of us first fell for Metal Gear was pretty sweet. Still, if I wanted 32-bit snowbound action, I'd pop in the original. And sticking a chunk of an eleven year old game at the end of a supposedly 10/10 current flagship title is no compensation for the lack of a satisfying ending. No boss battle, no nothing, except for talktalktalk. What really would've been sweet? The chance to play the level with all the PS3's might behind it.

The above was pretty much my stream of consciousness as I infiltrated the charming but primitive Shadow Moses facility. Oh, well. Still worth 23 odd quid. Once I lead Snake into the upstairs air vent, the screen went black. Next, instead of watching credits, I caught up with Old Snake back in the saddle. Or, rather, where he was after I started The Great Skip of Ought Nine. He snaps out of it. Otacon catches him napping.

Snake - "Sorry. I had that dream again."

YOU-WEE-DANCER.

Sometimes, playing this game is more like being in a mediocre relationship. I had to sit through more gubbins than I knew I could stand, to get to the simple, honest-to-goodness minutiae. The little nuts and bolts that, when they all click, soar. I'd sooner have expected city to win the Premiership than a turn-around that huge or a sucker-punch that genius.

And it is genius. Not only was the game not over but, oh yes, I got to infiltrate a new, improved, mech-defended Shadow Moses boasting terrain so vast Kojima could only have dreamt it back in '99. Off the chopper, Snake must navigate a maze during a snowstorm. On the PlayStation, that would mean a Silent Hill style veil of square white "mist." On the PS3, you can practically feel the wind peg back your ears and the crunch of snow as you give huge camouflaged Geckos the slip (cheers, MK 2's Night Vision mode!)

I could go on. Rather than list every well-judged wink the segment features for fans (they are legion) or every other reason to drop some bills, I will, instead, simply express thanks for this wondrous creation and hope that someday you too will get your stealth on.

--

Ian Pratt thinks Josh Brolin would a fine Snake make.

Saturday 7 February 2009

Pichaz

New segment.
A word of warning though, they're probably graphic, of a sexual nature, gross and possibly head-exploding for various reasons not worth bartering your sanity to comprehend.
First up cosplay. Not my thing but I can sure see the merits. My favourites include Rikku and Yuna, although one of the Jill Valentines (where does the apostrophy go? bah) is pretty spot on.

Enjoy

One-Shot (07/02/09)

Rather than further bore you with the boring tales of my continuing misadventures with boring, 50+ minute "movie scenes" and occasional game-play, I'll switch gears.

In Episode One of the aural sex-you-up-real-nice that is our podcast*, Christophe asked if Paul Rudd is in danger of doing an Owen Wilson. On the evidence of the underwhelming Red Band trailer for Observe & Report**, Seth Rogen may soon find himself on the business end of similar musings.

Underwhelming and Seth Rogen are not entirely foreign notions of late, following Zack and Miri Make A Porno and Pineapple Express. He's fine, in both, parlaying riffs on his usual affable chump routine. But he's easily outquaffed (by Craig Robinson and James Franco + Craig Robinson, respectively) in both. For a guy who's talked about as a fully-fledged leading man, it isn't good enough.

This early in a comic's career, signs that his "I didn't do it" is starting to wane are worrying. More worrying, though, is the increasingly smug impression he emits in interviews. When the underrated Jason Segels and Jonah Hills of his oeuvre are consistently beating him laugh-for-laugh, his arrogance is grating.

And Observe... hardly looks set to change things. On paper, MallCopRambo sounds like it is; the trailer suggests otherwise. A few good moments (clotheslining punk kids is always funny) didn't convince this curmudgeon. Maybe, replacing immaturity with rage will rejuvenate him.*** Here's hoping it'll be Ace Ventura before nature called. Failing that, there's always Funny People.

Also...

(insert generic "come on Ireland!" remark.)

* http://media.switchpod.com/users/grandiloquentvagaries/tbepisode1.mp4
** http://observe-and-report.warnerbros.com/restricted/index.html
*** If Rogen consulted our hilarious/intimidating new work security guard for research, case closed.

Friday 6 February 2009

One-Shot (06/02/09)

The (other) problem with the Internet? It makes John O'Shea look composed. Yesterday, my connection started arseing around. Not a big deal, really, for some. For others, it borders on oxygen-loss. I felt closer to Randy, clambering for my usual haunts, determined to look at that colleague's holiday pictures and so on. Funny or lame? No time to ponder that now... I've got Premier Football matches to play!

Thursday 5 February 2009

16: The Problem With The Internet?

It connects you with ass-heads. And for everyone dead on, there are, at least, ten dingleberries. I've mentioned before my love for CHUD.com. I'm no stranger to posting on the boards there, which is where this incident was incited.

Note: a rejected subtitle for this post was "-or- On Ire, Ireland du Nord and Bigotry." Anyone who gets the reference can expect more of the same. That said, proceed with caution. If you haven't learned by now not to come here for feel-good screeds, your deja vu is deserved.

Note 2: I came so very close to posting this yesterday. What follows is the reflection of an unusually restrained Ian. Names have been edited. Also, you might wanna grab a drink. This is a long 'un.

If not for Facebook, CHUD.com would have reconnected me with BOB CONTRABAND.* Of all my high school buddies, Bob was a guy I always felt a special bond with.** Losing contact with him after graduation hurt, until Facebook reconnected us. One of the many great things about the usually blandasgetout "Hey, it's YOU!" conversation was learning that Bob shared my love of CHUD. Being a long-time reader, his presence encouraged me to stop snooping and finally join its forums.

At first, things were grand. We'd pass one another like kids in the hall, saying hi and shooting it about films or whatever the thread was about. Great stuff, a familiar face with a cool avatar to help ease me in.

Or not.

Almost immediately, Bob seemed to turn on me. Not ball-busting, mind you. Just enough off-hand condescension to catch my attention. I'm all for a little ribbing between friends.**** The difference between that, though, and something altogether more sinister is not lost on me. After these incidents continued, I was left in little doubt that Bob was, in fact, roasting my ass. If I posted a comment in praise of someone/something, he'd be the prosecution. This never truly bothered me, until one of the sites English elder statesmen joined sides with Bob. That's when things got "real."

Ever the stereotype, I noticed no Irish threads to compliment their American/British/etc counterparts. Curious as to how many Chewers hail from the Emerald Isle, I set up the modestly titled All-Ireland Chewers League so that we might say "howyeh?" and "what about 'ye?" to each other, if indeed there were any more than me and Scott. I also left the door open to anyone of Irish ancestry/ex-pats/or anyone who just wants to talk Blarney. That's just the sort of me.

Initially, it went well. Despite Bob's undermining of the move (on the grounds that it would "be a chat between three people") the thread prospered, drawing more Irish out of the online woodwork. In the U.K. Chewer thread, I tried to coax ZED DOCKEN, a respected Californian Chewer buddy, to visit our sodden N'Irish shores. The banter was smooth and plentiful. Essentially, it became a noticeboard for foreigners to announce impending trips and arrange cheap accommodation/drinking buddies. At this point, MIKE AGGRO, a Leeds native, appeared. I'm familiar with Mike. I even had some time for the guy based on his comments across the Sewer, prior to him cyber-sniping me in various music and television discussions.

Quoth Aggro - "I am mildly entertained at how we've segregated the few U.K. Chewers we have into their respective nations. Devolution is hot even on the Internet, it would seem."*****

Bob's retort - "Even more entertaining is how it was all started by a guy from Northern Ireland who is a Protestant. Aren't we meant to be in the U.K? (insert sticky-out tongue emoticon.)"

There we were, me and my online movie buddies chatting about Dublin and talking holidays when Captain Killjoy came barging in. Moreover, this wasn't the first time Bob and Mike tag-teamed me. But I digress. Rather than submit all of my response, I made the following points:

1. Don't call me British.
(MUST-RESIST-TIRADE!)
2. Don't call me Protestant.
(see above)
3. I didn't "devolve" Jack. I spoke for myself and myself alone.
(It's true.)
4. Aggro, you are a drone with no love in your soul.
(Also true. Though, I put it in a more moderator-friendly way.)

The response was swift and annoying.

Bob flashed a big grin which, of course, I took derisively, when coupled with the comment - "I'll laugh to myself, then, from now on."

Aggro - "I read that long, moving speech and 'take pity on us, we're oppressed!' was all I took from it. I was simply registering my amusement at you attempting to segregated the few UK Chewers there are (who are united through commonalities like the BBC, anyway) into separate threads. Then, you went into a rant about unionism. That's what I get for trying to have a remotely civilized conversation with an Irishman."

Comment + Me = Grrr.

The main points of my reply:

1. Once again, I have spoken for myself... no one else. I certainly haven't "devolved" anyone. You are mistaken, Aggro.
2. You make massive generalizations about political structure which overlook local government (one of the many ways we're separated by more than just the Irish Sea.)
3. You are a racist. As such, you let down all of the lovely, enlightened Englishmen and women I have ever met. Better make that any well adjusted person. Pity... I used to like you.

5 minutes later:

Aggro - "Having endured lectures on the 'Evil English' from several extended-family members in Derry, I find your view of Republicanism as 'enlightened' amusing. Many Brits have doubtless been guilted into taking all the blame for the Troubles, but I won't be one of them."

Me - I'm not Ken Loach and this isn't some agenda-of-rage prestige picture. I never said Republicanism (in the militaristic sense you wrongly imply I meant) is enlightened and I wouldn't be the sort of person to defend either the sort of rhetoric you've heard or those from 'the other side.' I thought that was clear from the above. It isn't about 'us vs. them/wrongly stereotyped Brits.' To prove my point, last year I slated Rose McGowan for her idiotic remarks regarding the IRA******.... Also, any English to be 'guilted into taking all the blame for the troubles' are misinformed idiots. So too are those who would have them do it. Despite what you try to make out, that's not what I do/did. You sure can read into things what you want. That's Troubles with a capital 'T', by the way.

Gloves be-gone, right? At this point, Zed stepped in and defused the altercation. I lamented the loss of my temper and offered the proverbial olive branch to Mike. Unsurprisingly, he declined to comment.

I haven't enjoyed writing this. By simply participating in the forum, I may have alienated Bob, the very friend I was so glad to be back in contact with and, at once, made a Sewer Nemesis in Mike. It's been buggin' me for days. I know I got a little heated, but I can't imagine anyone in my position reacting much differently. Am I wrong? Do outbursts like the above make me one of the online halyins you're likely to run into, an exception, or just Joe Schmo with his back up? Is it gauche to answer your own questions? The answers to none of these questions are sure to not feature in the comments section below.

* http://lsfhf.blogspot.com/2008/12/4-on-ire-irland-du-nord-and-football.html
** Groping George Lazenby*** just wasn't the same without him.
*** Band name?
**** All too easy.
***** Paraphrased, like all non-me speakers.
****** http://lsfhf.blogspot.com/2008/12/5-debunker.html

--

Ian Pratt would urge anyone to watch Paul Greengrass's Bloody Sunday, if all you got from the above was "huh?" and even if you didn't.

One-Shot (05/02/09)

Due to the belated arrival of Winter's Sole Redeeming Quality (aside, of course, from chicks in scarfs, Christmas, and its related Coca Cola adverts), tonight's football game is likely annihilated.* That said, today's Grandiloquent Vagary arrives just in time for lunch.

I have a horror idea. The nugget of some raw material, anyway. Since Ought Seven, I've been trying to get a script of the macabre airborne. My avail is none. Said notion has real potential, so it's prolonged gestation gives me the bluest of blue balls. Might be time to give On Writing's spine another crack.**

But who or what must you, the noble reader, "thank" for going Herbert West on the flaccid (fner), saggy remains of my scriptwriting dream?*** Lest I embarrass the person in question - who doubtless knows anyway - know this: temporal shenanigans with none more bleak endings are scriptwriting Lucozade.

Now, go forth and book your Punisher: War Zone ticket. I am thrusting in the general direction of excitement.

--

* What can I say? Some guys just aren't as willing to endure frost-ball in the name of the beautiful game.
** For shame to anyone who thought "fner" just now.
*** http://lsfhf.blogspot.com/2008/12/broken-dream-theatre-part-1.html

Other Miscellany (05/02/09)

Not to step on toes with digit crushing hiking boots. Which I'm styling, excellently, by the way. Here's my cack-handed attempt at the eminent One-Shot popularised by none other than the saviour of this blog.

Thank Paula, Luke, Annabel, John, sorry Ian. I suck. I hope history will be kinder. And return it's phone calls.

By Way Of An Apology

I'm throwing around the word 'sorry' like geek panties at a William Shatner signing in Borders.
Sorry for not calling. Sorry for not turning up. Sorry for not working. Sorry for being unhappy. Sorry for not being sober. The list goes on and so do the apologies.

I'm putting my body through the sharp teeth of the Fallout 3, G & T and Lucky Reds' mincer. The fleshy pulp coming out is pretty much a groaning vessel, battered daily by emotional, mental and physical indiscretions on a daily and routine basis.

I'm dragging around my string of failures far enough to reach the next bar. It's within 45 minutes stumbling, snow ass-smacking distance so the commute to what is becoming a day job isn't too long, to be fair. My co-workers are booze hounds, my office supplies (rashly tidied) G & Ts and my chances of promotion are tied to my pinball score. Which for the curious is miserably circling the 300,000,000 mark.

This may explain my absence. I doesn't explain why I'm doing it. Yet I'm feeling whimsy. Friends help with that.

Wednesday 4 February 2009

One-Shot (04/02/09)

Falling out of the music loop is painful and, seemingly, irreparable.

Tuesday 3 February 2009

One-Shot (03/02/09)

A job well done is its own reward, but getting credit for it is sweet.

Monday 2 February 2009

One-Shot (02/02/09)

What wouldn't I give to be able to take a crack (fner) at crafting an original Solid Snake (fner squared) adventure, one where your sublime covert antiques (thrice the fner) aren't interrupted by poorly conceived, flabby, faux-earnest "movie sequences" for half an hour, at least once every hour?

Suggestions below please, non-existent readers.

Sunday 1 February 2009

One-Shot (01/02/09)

Being unnecessarily lectured on Republicanism/Unionism by an an uninformed English ignoramus is frustration itself. Tactical Espionage Action makes it better.

Also, sometimes being a snitch pays off.