Monday 31 October 2011

247: Who ARE we going to call?

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.


Yeah, them Yanks are schooling us in how to engage our children in celebrating a festival of darkness, but who's to say we can't give it a bit of bulldog spirit, eh?

Ghostbusters Dambusters
^^ Click for bigger (1000x1414px, 298kb)

Happy Hallowe'en, y'all!

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Saturday 29 October 2011

246: In Pictures - Bowling For Soup

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.




28th October 2011.
HMV Forum, Kentish Town (The Town & Country, call it by its name)

What do I write about Bowling For Soup? Two awesome shows in a week. Saw them in Oxford on the 22nd, but didn't take any photographs.
I also started writing an actual gig-report, then realised it was sort of redundant. Here's the short version:

Orange: Not for me, but the kids seemed to be enjoying them.
Suburban Legends: Loads of fun, I was very impressed.
Bowling For Soup: Excellent (as usual), even though the entire band and crew are (/have been) ill with this cold-thing thats been doing the rounds.

Anyway, I figured I'd post the photos I took at the London show.
The principle's simple enough: Bad photographs look slightly less bad when they've been filtered through PolaDroid. Click on any of these to see the bigger version over at FacePage.















And big hugs to the awesome folks from the BFS Army who made it all even better:





I'm not saying that BFS have 'the best fans', but they're definitely the best people.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Thursday 27 October 2011

245: Review - The Adventures of Tintin

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

Tintin movie poster

The Adventures of Tintin
26th October 2011. Location: Cinema

Premise: A nosey teenager, worryingly adept with firearms, finds himself in the company of an alcoholic sailor, stranded in Morocco with no passport...

Wow. No, really. Wow.

Given that I was never really a fan of Tintin, finding it a little too old fashioned for my tastes, I wasn't expecting this to really connect with me. I was prepared to be visually impressed, for sure, but the cast and crew have reached deep into the bag and pulled out a first-class action adventure movie, here.

Now if you're a fan of Tintin already, you'll be rolling your eyes and mouthing told you so. But this movie brings something new to the franchise for me; a sense of movement which the comics never really captured (again, for me). It's very easy to forget that the highly stylised characters you're watching are CGI, even though they could only be exactly that. The camerawork, script and pacing all suggest a live-action film, and the excellent voice-work backs this up. There are one or two moments where the animation becomes a little jerky and lifeless, but even then it's only reduced to the level of very, very good CGI.

With Spielberg directing and John Williams scoring, Tintin reminded me of the Indiana Jones series regularly, particularly in the Moroccan locations, and it's a credit to Moffat, Wright and Cornish that their writing is on par with those films.

After seeing one of the Thompson Twins fall down the stairs in the trailer, I was worried about the level of slapstick we'd be getting. Luckily, this is kept to a minimum (read: largely the scenes with the Thompson Twins in), as the rest of the spills are action-based. There is a lot of humour in the film, courtesy of Andy Serkis' Captain Haddock and Snowy the dog, but it's never overbearing and never overdone.

We saw this is 2D, but I'll be watching it again in 3D. The medium works best in animation anyway, and if the rest of the visuals are anything to go by, it should be stunning.

Whether you're a fan of the books or not, I can't recommend this film highly enough. A classic adventure, and a thing of great beauty.

7/7

...still got no real desire to return to the books, mind.


DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Saturday 22 October 2011

244: Thank you, Twitter

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.


Hello. Chances are you're reading this because you've been directed here by me on Twitter.



Last night (Fri 21 Oct), I tweeted that my nephew's guitar had been stolen in Oxford. He's 17, just started music college, and like I did at that age, adores his guitar. He was feeling like absolute shit about the whole thing, so I figured the least I could do was put the word out that a black SG Prophecy was 'in the wild', so that at least if it was offered for sale in a pub, second-hand-shop etc, there'd be some awareness that it was probably stolen. I don't normally ask for a re-tweet, but it seemed sensible under the circumstances.

Then Twitter (you) showed me why Twitter (you) is/are brilliant. I had what can only be described as a humbling number of RTs and enquiries/help.

As of mid-day on Saturday 22nd October, the guitar has been recovered. I don't know many more details, as my nephew's dad has gone to pick it up as I type this. I'll update this post if/as I learn any more. What I also don't know is whether Twitter (you) was/were instrumental in its recovery. I think you were, anyway.



I want to say a massive THANK YOU to the following tweeters who very kindly re-tweeted my message, so that more people had an eye out for the guitar:

@AndyMcH
@Wllmtnnnt
@MrBoffly
@TheShowerCiara
@Maisey_M
@JonnieLovepole
@parkerbats
@ellaboheme
@lolwarlol
@ElKaboing
@mcsleazy
@Arfa1969
@alanlaw
@nizbizz
@juliefon
@vengod
@craigblundell
@Danno375
@KubMartin
@minitheminx9
@ScottyBoyGooner
@AndyHoldcroft
@ganofo
@TheFinesthour
@Anita_Neet
@doddsytattack
@stevejalim
@drummerwhitey
@GemmaDrums
@yo_toots
@Stephen13Payne
@scott_guitar23
@pawwow
@MattWBP
@padster
@Phoebely
@AverageCynic
@MayaVonDoll
@MelismaMusic1
@pleasecruelty
@Jubbly_1
@FunSizeSuze
@mynameis_robyn
@RachelDonag
@BestBridesWE
@ClaireElaneW
@i_am_mclovin
@Lalaasaurus
@sofee_
@4maddy2
@garwboy
@steve_x
@bulldoxide
@JessDearrr
@STERLINGBRIDGES
@pixelsmummy
@bobdmello
@sickmouthy
@rllyquitetired
@SmoutsAbout
@DaddyPerry
@Chimpmansworth
@Denise_Meredith
@SamDaleFunkSoul
@chadsbits
@fleurdelysmusic
@quev71
@JoJo3398
@crowmogh
@restorationcake
@Jules_Clarke
@HelenArmfield
@mamacrow
@hand_of_Ike
@The_Bats
@KhandieKhisses
@GemWitchalls
@conchitamou
@ponshus
@ColonelHitch
@KhandBapa
@ProPatria46
@Stevietosh
@Major_Grooves
@EllieBrown710
@WORDright
@TabbyOnTour
@reductioadabsur
@velderia
@yellbean
@KathrynBell1
@rosepryce
@stehatch
@sebastianflyte


And a lot of those people were made aware of the situation thanks to the RT by Mr Jaret Reddick of @bfsrocks. Without Jaret's tweet, the thank-you list would be a lot shorter.

You have my sincere and heartfelt thanks for your small, yet hugely important, actions. I suspect there are more users, whose names Twitter isn't showing me, who I also have to thank. If your name isn't on the list, but you did RT my message, you also have my utmost thanks.

I'm going to delete my original tweets to stop it being RT'd any further by people who aren't aware of the updated situation.



I may have to re-think my whole "the world is full of arseholes" philosophy. The number is reduced by at least 94 people today.

You fucking humble me, Twitter, and I'm pretty sure a certain 17yr old appreciates you, too.



DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Friday 21 October 2011

243: Review - Contagion

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

Contagion poster

Contagion
21st October 2011. Location: Cinema

The Premise: Wash your fucking hands. Yes, you.

As if I'm not paranoid enough about touching things that people have had their dirty paws on...

This might not be a great film to go and see if you're just starting a cold. Like what I am. No matter.
A sizeable chunk of Contagion is lingering shots of things that germy people have just touched; door handles, drinking glasses, mobile phones and what have you. Another sizeable chunk is filled with characters you can't bring yourself to like. Jude Law, for example, plays the deeply irritating Alan Krumwiede, a big-mouthed journalist and blogger*1 who spends the whole film being annoying about "the truth" until it's revealed that he was bullshitting all along and it's okay that you found him a bit of a dick. Oh, spoilers. Did I mention? SPOILERS.

Actually, there's not a great deal to spoil, as the trailer's already done a pretty good job of that. A lot of people get poorly and die. You see 'main characters' dying in the trailer, so all that's left is details, really. Luckily, the film's not so much about the spread of the virus*2, as the socio-political behaviour surrounding it. And that's not as dull as I've made it sound.

Sure, there are shades of "oh, the government's bad because they don't have cures for as-yet-unknown diseases lying around in ready-packed doses by the billion", and Matt Damon manages to be impressively dull as a character who's lost two people close to him, finds out he himself is immune, and then basically sits around the house bringing nothing else to the film, at all. Similarly, the sub-plot with Marion Cotillard as a kidnapped health worker had great potential, and then essentially came to nothing.

Given the basic fact that people who died from the new strain of Flu weren't going to get back up and bite people, I'd wondered before seeing it what the point of the film was going to be. After seeing it, a small part of me's still wondering. Other than being a 105 minute advertisement for washing your fucking hands you filthy peasants, it seems like it's pulling in different directions and covering no bases as a result. There's not enough of the humanitarian element to get you engaged on an emotional level, but there's too much of that for it to work as a thriller.

By the time the final scene rolls around, we get to see flashbacks of how the disease was first transmitted to patient zero, and it seems largely irrelevant. The stages we see unfold have been described verbally by Marion Cotillard about an hour earlier, and millions of people are dead by then, and a cure's been developed. So what does it matter?

A lack of zombie potential meant that part of me wanted to really dislike this from the outset, but when I was watching it, I couldn't do that. The other part of me wanted to really love it. I couldn't do that, either.

4/7

/// Now wash your hands. ///

*1 Americans have enough of a problem distinguishing British and Australian accents as it is (and I can see how, to be fair). So casting British Jude Law to do an unconvincing Aussie accent isn't going to help anyone, is it?
*2 Hollywood Virus Rule Number One: The first infected person must board an internationally-bound plane within five hours of contracting the virus. See also; Rise of the Planet of the Apes.


DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Monday 17 October 2011

242: Review - Johnny English Reborn

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.


Johnny English Reborn poster

Johnny English Reborn
17th October 2011. Location: Cinema

Six times.

The trailer made me think it would be a high number, but even I wouldn't have guessed six.

On six separate occasions in Johnny English Reborn, a male character either receives, or narrowly avoids, a blow to the testicular region for comedic effect. Six.

That's the equivalent of being kicked in the nuts once every seventeen minutes. Which isn't an inaccurate analogy of watching the film, if I'm being honest. You shrug it off the first time; a cheap shot in every sense. Get it out of the way, and move on, yeah? Erm, …what else have you got?

The Good: It's reassuringly charming. There are chuckles in there, just no real laughs. It's all so tried-and-tested by now that you begin to suspect it's been sitting in storage for seven years, waiting for the audience to forget that Mike Myers as already done this, and that it was better than the first Johnny English film. At one point, the introduction of some Chinese enemy-agents had me worried we'd get some old-fashioned casual racism, but in all fairness the film avoids this altogether. There are no nasty surprises in this movie…

The Bad: …there are no surprises at all in this movie. It's like the car that was carrying Ace Ventura 2 crashed into the bus carrying The Naked Gun when a truckload of Austin Powers fell onto them both. Seriously. When it's not 'oh look, my adjustable chair doesn't work properly', it's 'attack an old woman/the Queen in a case of ha-ha-hilarious mistaken identity'

The Ugly: …at least we can rely on Rowan Atkinson to alternate between his Blackadder face and his Mr Bean face at regular intervals. Speaking of which, after about an hour, you're just waiting for it to end, really.

After the credits: Midway through the name-scroll, we get a deleted scene in which Rowan tits about in a kitchen in time to music. Think Morcambe & Wise's 'Breakfast sketch', but without the gags. Part of me is amazed they didn't just insert it into the film anyway.

All in all: It's not completely awful, you've just seen it all before. If you catch it on the telly it'll probably make you smile. If you go and shell out the best part of a tenner to watch it at the cinema? I doubt you'll be smiling as much.

The Final Word: This film is the direct result of a series of Barclaycard adverts. That should tell you all you need to know.

3/7

As harmless as it is, three's as high as I can go. I'll try harder when the film does.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Friday 14 October 2011

241: Review - Real Steel

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

Real Steel poster

Real Steel
14th October 2011. Location: Cinema



Estranged father / cocky but vunerable son / mismatched pairing / bonding / underdog in a contest / support from love interest / more bonding / one dimensional bad guys / father has doubts about final challenge / finds emotional strength in son / tears / more bonding / final challenge / will they succeed..?


Of course they bloody will, haven't you seen any films at all?

Despite this Hugh Jackman vehicle actually being ^ that ^ clichéd, this movie's so convincingly made I couldn't help but get drawn in. It's not perfect, and the sequences with Max and his robot-pal doing a bit of a dance (yes, a dance) made me cringe, but Real Steel isn't about the destination, it's about the journey.

Dakota Goyo stars as 11yr old Max, and is nowhere near as annoying as the trailer makes out (apart from the dancing). He reminded me a lot of Jake Lloyd in The Phantom Menace, and you can shut up because I know what you're about to say. Hugh Jackman also puts in a decent performance as his absentee father and ex-boxer Charlie, as they're reunited after Max's mother's untimely death in an accident.

The other (human) characters are largely cut-outs, inserted into the story to fulfill very specific roles, and as such there are no real standout performances. They're acceptable certainly, but there's not a lot you can do with 'nasty man in cowboy hat who enjoys 'yee-hawing' and beating up our hero'.

The curious-er character is Atom, the robostar of the story. Atom is the sparring-bot who rescues Max from falling to his death in a junkyard (built, for some reason, right next to a cliff in the middle of a town?), resulting in the youngster insisting they rescue (read: steal) him and clean him up. It's established fairly shortly after this meeting that Atom is sentient; in that he's not just a remote-control machine like the other boxing-bots we've met so far. Atom actually understands Max when he speaks to him, and can respond (although not verbally). The weird thing is that this isn't expanded upon at all. We see Max beg his dad to 'train' Atom using traditional boxing techniques, although Charlie doesn't seem to twig that Atom is actually learning, not memorising.

Come the film's finalé, I fully expected the remote-pad to mysteriously stop working, as Atom becomes independent of his controller, and wins the fight using the movies he's learned. But it's no great spoiler to say that the crescendo is Charlie's moment, as he regains some of his former glory as a boxer-turned-trainer. The fact that Atom is alive isn't explored at all, which seems like a shame. That said; when Real Steel works, it's absolutely on fire.

A clichéd underdog movie, but played well. And who doesn't love watching robots smack the shit out of each other?

Think of it as a cross between Rocky and the podracing sequence from The Phantom Menace. Make of that what you will, but I enjoyed it.

5/7

^^ It's not quite 6/7 material, but it's damn close.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Thursday 13 October 2011

240: Review - The Lion King (3D)

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

The Lion King (3D) poster

The Lion King (3D)
13th October 2011. Location: Cinema

I've been to see an Elton John musical.

I think... think... that this is the first time I've seen The Lion King all the way through. Yeah, I know. I've definitely seen bits of it before, and I know the general gist of the story, so I've never had the feeling that I've missed out.

So, yes. It's an astounding film. Mostly. I'll be honest, apart from The Circle of Life, I could have done without the songs, few as they are. I could also have done without a lot of the humour, and had a film that concentrated more on the mythology...

...but then I had to keep reminding myself that I was watching a Disney film aimed at kids.

But when it's great it's fucking magnificent, and I'm very pleased to have seen it in the cinema. The 3D's so-so. I mean, it's there, and it does its best, but it's got to be difficult to convert traditional two-dimensional animation, as they're just not 3D objects. As a result, for the most part it comes over like an animated decoupage; flat images at varying levels of depth. I wouldn't go so far as to say it detracts from the movie, but it definitely doesn't add anything.

But if you love The Lion King, make a point of catching this at the cinema; it's worth it for the digital projection alone, even if you see the 2D version. This puts most of Disney's other output to shame.

6/7

Oh, and if anyone can point me towards a version where all of James Earl Jones' Mufasa lines are processed to sound like Darth Vader, I'd be incredibly grateful. I can't be the only person who wants to see that, can I?

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Wednesday 12 October 2011

239: Review - The Three Musketeers

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

The Three Musketeers 2011 poster

The Three Musketeers
12th October 2011. Location: Cinema

The only thing that surprised me about this film is how much I didn't detest it.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I didn't like it. At its best, I found it to be astoundingly average. A bit like 'Pirates of the Caribbean' without the pirates. Or the Caribbean. Or the fun. There is humour in here, but a lot of it consists of James Corden channeling his best Ricky Gervais impression, and then making a face.

Yes; in my quest to remain spoiler free, I hadn't visited the IMDB page and noticed James Corden's face there. In fairness to the funster, once I'd gotten over the shock of seeing him and expected nothing from his presence, he was mostly just being himself. More painful was listening to the audience's guffaws as he delivered his sitcom-like lines. Then made a face.

But let's move on: There are things I want to say about the film, whilst spending as little time as possible reliving it. As has becoming a habit for this year, I'm not familiar with the original source text of The Three Musketeers. Neither the book, nor the previous incarnation of the film. Mrs Blackout is, and she rated this version more lowly than I have, so that probably tells you something.

So, Paul W.S. Anderson prod-directing, and this has his stamp all over it. No appearances from Colin Salmon or Liz May Brice, but we get scene transition courtesy of a re-locating map, and he's even managed to squeeze a laser-dodge sequence in (well barely; the mechanics behind it don't work) without any lasers. I'm not opposed to that, by the way, I actually liked Resident Evil and Alien vs Predator. But unlike those movies, there's no tension here. No blood and no death. Yeah, I know it's only a 12A, but they're clashing swords every two and a half minutes, for crying out loud. Apart from the one token (off camera) death at the end, everyone lives to badly deliver their lines another day.

Oh yeah, the dialogue. I expect better from Matthew Macfayden, I really do. When it comes to Athos' heartfelt speech to D'Artagnan at the height of the final act, he just flatly trots out some embarassed-sounding shit about 'following your heart'. If that is the best take they got of that shot, I can barely imagine how appalling the others must have been. Christoph Waltz isn't given that much to actually do, so his scenes are somehow less cringe-inducing, but everyone seems to be having a hard time of what they've been handed here; with the possible exception of Orlando Bloom, who seems to be having enormous fun as Buckingham. Arguably more fun than the audience, it has to be said.

And I know how this is going to sound, really I do, but Milla Jovovich is getting too old for this shit. She's capable of better, it's time to move onwards and upwards.

The Three Musketeers is essentially a very expensively-made pantomime for people who haven't seen that many movies. Your kids are going to love it. For some reason.

I can't find it within myself to hate it outright, though. Its worst crime (for me) is just how monumentally dull it all is. At no point was I actually engaged in the story. I spent the duration thinking about the special effects and references/homages to other films. None of which are that badly done, they're just more noticable than what you're meant to be watching.

Oh, and can someone tell me how you fire an exploding projectile into a helium-filled balloon without it exploding all to shit, please? I don't even mind that they managed to mine/condense enough helium to fill the airships, I'd just like the physics to work.


3/7

...and then James Corden made a face.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Monday 10 October 2011

238: Review - What's Your Number?

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

What's Your Number? poster

What's Your Number?
10th October 2011. Location: Cinema

It's fair to say that this movie isn't really aimed at me; on account of the fact that I don't like getting smashed on Lambrini, giggling at men's bums and crying with my friends. Even so, I've paid in time and money to see this, so I'm damned well entitled to my opinion on it...

What's Your Number? is like a badly bolted together train of pantomime cliché, clanking slowly and jerkily down a rusty track towards a foregone, tedious conclusion. Despite throwing every hackneyed reliable staple and progression at the mix, there's nothing to make them flow together into an actual story. It's just a series of scenes you've seen before in other movies, and they were better the first time.

In fact, if you can imagine a Greatest Hits album where all the songs contained are just that little bit overplayed, and you then find out that it's a tribute band that's playing them, so that it's technically 'competent' but without any real committment or flair... that'd be this movie. The ditzy blonde, the hunky neighbour, the feuding parents, the arsehole boyfriends, the nighttime date in a deserted sports venue, the guitar serenade, the dancing on the rooftop, the realisation that 'oh, he/she is the one!'... all done with the warmth and sincerity of a Peter Kay interview.

In fact, while I'm on, what is Anna Farris actually for exactly? Not quite hot enough to compete with contemporaries like Heigl and Aniston, and not charming enough to make up for that fact. Whenever I've seen her, she tries her hand at kooky, but comes off as deeply irritating. I'd like to say the film would have been better with someone else cast as Ally, but even then it'd only be elevated to crushingly predictable. The rest of the cast try their best, presumably comforting themselves with the thought of the paycheck, but I can't see this particular gem appearing on many CVs in the future.

It's only 105 minutes, but it feels much, much longer. Which is quite an achievement when you consider that there's barely 85 minutes of material here.

If you want to remind yourself of how good Bridesmaids is, check this out.

2/7

Captain America should fucking well know better.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Sunday 9 October 2011

237: Weston-Super-Mare Photodump

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.


Last Sunday, my good lady and I perchanced to visit the delightful North Somerset coastal town of Weston Super Mare, by virtue of posessing complementary rail ticketure to any destination upon the First Great Western travel network.

Already in this post I have used the words 'super' and 'great' where they do not apply. I shall say no more, and present you with this; a pictorial record of our visit to the town.

My good lady striking a pose for the Coloured Photomatograph Machine™ The Knightstone Causeway. Complete with drawbridges for the fall of night, to prevent any of the local scallywags from clambering onto 'the master's castle'. The pier stands impassively, a mute witness to the unfortunate mariner who tried to escape this God-forsaken town...

Now I'm not saying Lorraine can't spell HER OWN NAME, but which is it? My good lady, impressed with Weston Super Mare's fine attempt at one of these new fangled 'Piers' Myself, slightly less than impressed with Weston Super Mare's lacklustre attempt at one of these new fangled 'Piers'.

None of the local residents know that out at sea, the Somerset Jurassic Park can clearly be seen... Rumour has it that the locals believe this is the beginning of a bridge to Wales, and has yet to be progressed upon. Many of the locals call this bathing area 'Canute's Pond', as they don't fully understand its apparently magical water-retaining properties...

Rock formations on the beach. The sea was that brown *before* I added the sepia filter, I kid you not. The edge of Knightstone Causeway. The edge of Knightstone Causeway.

No-one local seemed to know the identity of this sculptor's inspiration, and would only avert their eyes whilst muttering about 'the seer a'high'... But hold, what manner of secret cove is this..? Some of Weston Super Mare's beautiful 1930's architecture, without the 1970's architecture in the way...

My good lady, gazing at the ocean, and wondering if it would perhaps have been quicker to have grown, caught and cooked her own fish and chips... The first garrison outpost of the Galactic Empire has been established. There is hope for this town yet... We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are rolling our eyes and wondering if it's time to go to the train station yet...

Mr Wellesley Phant Esq. From a delightful indoor-market type establishment. I believe this is what the youth of the day are referring to as 'Kicking it old school, Empire style'...

^^ Click for bigger, opens in a new window ^^

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Friday 7 October 2011

236: Bournemouth Photodump

CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.

Hello. Back in September, me and my better half went to Bournemouth, Dorset..
Whilst there, I wrote a short piece about being followed one night.

These are some of the photos from that weekend.

My good lady and I, taking a bracing stroll. We commissioned an urchin to take this Photomatograph, and then beat him to within an inch of his life afterwards, so that he could not tell his filthy brethren of our posession of such a machine. This town is so forward thinking, these new 'beach chalets' even have their own numbers! Imagine! The marvelous cliftop promenade affords splendid views of the shoreline.

Manufactured from the same British Iron that enabled the locomotive engine to deliver to me to this coastal paradise. What an age we live in! The proud headland, jutting defiantly out and shaking a British fist at those ghastly overseas-types. Our bold and majestic architecture, infiltrated by transatlantic meat salesmen...

The view from the clifftop, at Jurassic Park... A clifftop view of the Harbour, at Poole. A new-fangled Pier. This one features Penny Arcades, and a full working theatre!

Mr Harrington Chimpmansworth Esq. The newly decorated 'beach' 'huts'. FrankenLion

Cyber Lion Mer-Lion CthulLion

Lion Doctor Bellboy Lion Pharoah Lion

^^ Click for bigger, opens in a new window ^^

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.

• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.