Oh God, oh God, Anne Hathaway’s awkward face is burned into my retina….

Please Note: This is NOT a review, it’s a rant. 

First of all, I think it is vital to point out that the only reason I went to see the film ‘One day’ is because i read and loved the book. I do not like rom-coms, in fact i despise almost all ‘Hollywood’ romances. Consequently, I was acutely aware of the distinct possibility of disliking the film. (Un)Fortunately having grown up in a household where trash TV, rom-coms and ITV game shows have swamped my living room TV screen, I have built up quite the tolerance for TV shows and films i do not enjoy. I can bare ‘this morning’ (some might even accuse me of enjoying it on rare occasions- a claim I neither deny nor admit to), I can [only just] tolerate ‘legally blonde’. I have even just recently learned how to sit through an entire 15 minutes of Loose Women without literally pulling out bits of hair or bursting into tears at the idoiocy and human error displayed on a show which appears to brand itself as a light hearted ‘woman’s hour’, which I in fact believe is a sad but nonetheless important display of skewed social priorities and human faults. The show feels apocalyptic in the sense that every time I watch it, i’m genuinely frightened that i might wake up tomorrow and the world is like loose women. If i had the opportunity to form my own government, i’d use a five minute snipped of these so-called ‘loose women’ to highlight the necessity to impose my ‘liberal dictatorship manifesto’ immediately before the whole of humanity slides into an irrecoverable state of stupidity. 

Ok, so maybe i’ve veered slightly off track, but it was necessary to prove my point that, despite a high tolerance of utter trite on Tv and in films, i surprised even myself when i left the cinema before ‘One Day’ had even finished.

It became almost immediately obvious that a purely literary device- returning to the story just one day a year - does not translate well to cinema. This, however, was the very least of its problems. The acting was amazingly shocking. No really, i was genuinely AMAZED at how rigid, awkward, and stifled the acting was, the characters of Dextor and Emma seemed as if they had just met each other for the first time in every scene. It was just awkward and didn’t convey the close, intimate and natural friendship that was evident in the novel between them.

Ugh. I knew things were going to be bad when the scene started with music which sounded like it belonged to a 70’s american soap opera about posh-and-rural New England, USA, coupled with a swirly font title taken straight from word-processor (quite possibly ‘french script’)

I left the cinema about half way through (and we only stayed this long because there were so many awkward silences in the film and i had taken some rather loud rustly bags, that we had to choose our moment wisely so as not to disturb the other 4 or so people in the cinema, although i question their motives for staying, and perhaps even believe our walk out may have sparked a mass walkout afterwards, it’s what i like to think happened at any rate. Whoever didn’t leave had probably slipped into a comma, perhaps even self-induced to make the pain go away and the minutes pass quicker). 

The only thing i regret is that i didn’t stay long enough to see Anne Hathaway die and Jim Sturgess cry his silly posh tears out, who can only cry using the infamous tweezers-in-the trouser-pocket-with-the-hole method and presumably is only capable of crying out gold, dollar bills, or his own sexual fluids. He’s that robotic, horrid, and overwhelmingly in love with himself.

I hated it so much i cannot stop thinking about it. Like those awful songs that you hate but can’t help yourself from singing, Anne Hathaways ridiculous dumb face is ingrained, no, burnt or scratched, into my brain. So much so, it still hurts even though the physical scars have long since faded. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore, it just hurts.

I just want to save anyone from having to experience what i experienced on a cold monday afternoon, and quite possibly changed my life forever- it was the day i saw quite literally the worst film ever. 

"I don’t have kids, but I know enough about parenting to state the following with confidence: any parent who is genuinely concerned that their child’s worldview might be hopelessly altered by the unruly behaviour of a footballer has failed as a parent."

Charlie Brooker


(via offensive-monkey)

An unapologetic Cameron is in pursuit of his funnyman status…

An extract from an article by Sam Delaney.

I have had such a problem with Cameron from the start because of this kind of attitude he has. He is horribly suave when it comes to PR, and even witty at times.

It’s just not natural.

"Last Thursday evening, amid the throng camping out overnight for the royal wedding, David Cameron sauntered down the Mall and did what he does best. He pretended to be prime minister. Just as he must have done as a child to his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, he addressed the crowds with a dead relaxed, “Hey, don’t freak out, I’m just a pretty normal, although obviously massively powerful, guy” assurance…

It was classic Cameron. The kind of bloke who turns up for a photo opportunity with some builders at a greasy spoon and laconically orders a salad Niçoise. Just like his allusions to a dated car insurance ad a few days previously, it was yet more evidence that there is one thing he craves out of his premiership more than any other: to be regarded as the Chilled Out Entertainer of British politics….

…When he told Angela Eagle to “calm down, dear” he broke the single biggest rule of public discourse: if you’re in a suit and occupying a position of authority, never ever make a pop- cultural allusion to impress your audience. It doesn’t matter if you’re a prime minister, a geography teacher, a vicar or even John Humphrys on Mastermind trying to have a relaxed exchange with a contestant prior to the general knowledge round, it just never works. You don’t say “calm down, dear” for the same reasons you don’t say “not” at the end of a statement you don’t actually believe in. It’s silly and patronising and, anyway, even the most witless bores in society have long since moved on to grinningly saying “simples” in a daft foreign accent at the end of their sentences…

He’ll doubtless already have planned an extra bank holiday for 2012, codenamed: “National Fun Day”. And if any more of his policies blow up in his face, the soundbite will already be written: ‘All right everyone, I effed up. Now, who’s up for some X Box?’”


"If the Tories had won more seats, or slogged on as a minority government, at least we’d have a clear set of hate figures we could start despising immediately. Instead, we’ve got the Nazis forming an alliance with the Smurfs…

…But by all means remind me of my nonchalance on this subject in four years’ time, when we’re being issued uniforms and ushered down the bunkers. Unless it’s illegal for citizens to converse by then, in which case simply arch your eyebrows and shrug a bit, and I’ll know what you mean”


-Charlie Brooker. (Guardian)

"Even when Blair and co turned out to be so disappointing, I could console myself with the thought that the Conservatives would have been even worse. OK, so Labour started an illegal war. The Tories would’ve started six – four of them nuclear."

— Charlie Brooker (Guardian)