Sixteen Years On

So this post is just going to be a stream of possibly (wildly erratic) thoughts. So hang on to your breeches; we could go anywhere with them.

Cripes, I only managed three posts last year. And I call myself a writer? Pathetic! Though, to be fair to me, almost everyone who was blogging with me in 2007/8 no longer blogs or blogs even less than I do now. A few later blogs are still going, so kudos to those writers because it is difficult finding time and inspiration when life gets in the way. I have actually now been writing this blog for sixteen years. Oh. Dear. God. Just think of all that crap out there on the Internet for my kids to read after I peg it. (Ho, ho, ho.)

So you may be wondering if I’m still writing. Indeed I am, although I’m not working at full speed yet as life has been very complicated for many years, and I’m only just beginning to get back into the flow. I’m actually in the final legs of an MA in Comedy Writing. (It’s the first of its kind.) I’ve written a short film, 2 sitcom pilots with series outlines, and a sketch show. My final and last project will be an hour-long comedy-drama which will probably be part of a film script. The idea of the MA was to provide me with some structure after my rather long absence. The MA can’t teach you how to be funny – it examines strategies and structures, and, overall, is about how to produce professional work that TV and film producers might want to read rather than”how to be funny”. When I’ve finished, I hope to have a portfolio of work that someone, somewhere, might like. One of my objectives is to write a film script for Gerard Butler. I mean, why not? (Ho hum.) Obviously, I want to be one of those writers actively involved in the project. I’m quite happy to participate in the casting procedure (and if Mr Butler needs a dresser, I’d be quite happy to perform that arduous task too.)

God. 300 is an awesome film. Like Gladiator. Fantastic.

Cripes. Maybe I’m actually a man if I like those types of gory films?

Hmm…talking about gender identity is not a good idea. Even this old big mouth knows talking about it is a no-goer if you don’t want to be cancelled or strung up by your bits and pummelled with verbal abuse and mouldy prunes.

Anyway, it’s good to know that whilst my ovaries might be like pickled onions at my age, my imagination is not. Well, not when it comes to Gerard Butler. In fact, I propose a new title in the Whitehouse/London/Angel has Fallen series. How about Housewife Has Fallen. Obviously, it would be about a housewife who has fallen from the top floor of her executive detached home, forced to work all hours of the night and day in numerous jobs and flog her jewellery to support her children before discovering that her ex (known as X) is plotting world domination (his strategy of doing absolutely nothing means the world is likely to explode through catastrophic climate change). Enter Gerard Butler as Mike Banning, a hot fifty-something secret service agent, who must solicit the attention of The Housewife to take on X and a host of corrupt politicians and oil barons, in some gun-toting action-packed sequences.

If there is any doubt, I can confirm it will be an x-rated movie.

Onto other matters. My God, all this Harry and Meghan gossip in the news is driving me insane. Is there anyone on this planet who isn’t close to blowing their brains out to try and avoid the next sordid revelation? Also, I am disgusted that Harry’s publishers have allowed him to talk about his “kills” in Afghanistan. Anyone with half a brain should realize that that claim could have serious security repercussions. Someone at the top of Random should have vetoed it, whether or not Harry might have had editorial control. I think the inclusion of that statement just shows how vulnerable and misguided Harry is – he really does need to be brought back into the family fold to be protected from himself. Unfortunately, that seems unlikely to happen while he’s still married.

What else has been going on this past year? Oh…Ukraine. Not a subject to be flippant about. However, here’s an interesting fact. Putin is the same height as Tom Cruise.

I, therefore, take back, on bended knee, every joke and subtle dig I have ever made at Tom’s expense over the last 16 years (and there’s been quite a few) because, quite clearly, compared to Putin, Tom is completely sane. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that Tom, being the daredevil he is, is probably the only man brave enough to take out Putin given half the chance. I cannot believe some of the stunts he does – you’ve got to hand it to him. What a star. I reckon he should shoot himself over Russia using the US missile defence system, parachute into the Kremlin and take on Putin in hand-to-hand combat. It would be almost a fair fight, sizewise at least. Tom, of course, is 60, so he has a slight advantage over Putin, who is 70, but I figure it will be evened out by the time Tom’s taken out several hundred heavily armed Russian bodyguards and disarmed the nuclear weapons system as he’ll probably be a little tired and sweaty.

Wait a minute – what about if Tom parachuted in wearing a Putin mask – like the replica masks in the Mission Impossible films? Oh God that would be awesome. Two Putins, each one trying to convince an array of armed psychotic killers he is the real Putin and shoot the other instead. Blimey – that would be a nail-biter. World peace might all boil down to whether or not Tom can master a Russian accent.

Ok, what else has been going on in the world? Well, here in the UK, we have had three prime ministers in a year. Johnson, Truss and Sunak. (Sounds like some second-rate one-hit-wonder folk band from the late 1960s.) I feel a little bit sorry for Liz Truss. Being a tad too eager to make her mark, she screwed her term up, although I think it is also probably fair to say Sunak’s ascendency looks like it was planned for some time, and a state-educated woman without much verbal dexterity was probably not going to last long anyway in a house dominated by over-privileged white males. Truss, unfortunately, was no Thatcher, and we all know that Thatcher outclassed and worked harder than all her male party rivals.

Sunak has been having it easy so far as with Harry and Meghan dominating the headlines for weeks, he’s been let off lightly as the UK continues to sink into a monumental decline. The state of the UK and, indeed, the world is depressing. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to write any comedy at all after looking at the news headlines. But then I come across articles like THIS, and I am revitalised. If you can’t be bothered to read it, let me tell you it’s about an 88-year-old Frenchman who stuck a WW11 shell (bomb) up his arse for sexual pleasure. The shell measured 8 inches long by 2 inches wide.

Painful.

I don’t know what to be more amazed at – the fact at 88, he still has urges, or that he had the physical strength and agility to manoeuvre it up his backside (Perhaps he just plunged himself on it after perhaps securing the shell to a vice) or that he had the courage to call for the assistance given his unusual predicament.

Mind you, if you get thrills from shoving an explosive up your arse, then perhaps visiting casualty with your y-fronts around your ankles and declaring, “Excuse Monsieur, do you ‘ave a bombe disposal unit ‘ere. I ‘ave inadvertently sat on a bombe” is probably not going to cause too much embarrassment.

Anyway, clearly, this 88-year-old Frenchman was not on the frontline defending the border from the Nazis when they invaded, as, without a doubt, that sort of mad courage would provoke fear amongst even the most resolute of invaders. You certainly wouldn’t want to get involved in any hand-to-hand combat. Imagine being clubbed by a shell retrieved from someone’s anus.

You know, I kinda fancy seeing Tom Cruise parachuting into the Kremlin with an explosive up his backside.

Now that would make one terrific film.

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