Withnail & I - the A to Zee of Crucial Movies

Yes I know. We only just did "F". But it's my blog and I'll do what I want to.

Withnail and I is certainly one of my top five movies. Why? Because it is about me. Sounds a bit self-centred, and is self-centered. It's about how I remember the end of the sixties. The characters were people I knew, people I mixed with. They behaved like that and did those things.

I knew druggies like Danny. I got propositioned by people like Monty. I had a future - some like Withnail's and some like Marwood's future. But it was my future. We got pissed on cheap booze. We took bad drugs. And we did daft things. And we talked utter bollocks most of the time.

I don't know how it plays to people who were not there, but to me it is like a tape of me in 1970. Every last frame. Notice there are no women in it. Strange, but true.

I never managed a Camberwell Carrot, but I suppose one day I might try. Withnail is hysterically funny to me. I can watch it over and over and still giggle.

By one of those strange quirks of fate, entirely unrelated to the film, I know the lady that makes the Withnail costumes - the coat costs over five hundred quid if you want one.

I am defined by my blog

The inevitable onslaught of the bit and the byte. You have already forgotten what I wrote yesterday. The archives are not there or here but they have to be summoned by you. They are existential in terms which no existentialist could ever have imagined. We are being there and we are passionately seeking to affirm our existence, but where is "there"? There is nowhere.

Men's revelations! Exclusive!

Kevin Costner, an American film actor, has been at the centre of a bit of local difficulty here in Deep Fried Mars Bar Land.

Apparently he decided to have a J Arthur Rank in front of his masseuse up at the grand Old Course Hotel in St Andrews, Fife. She objected to this bit of onanistic activity for professional reasons and anyway she wasn't that kind of masseuse, and then got dismissed when she complained to the management.

Women want equality. They say they do, but blokes, if it was Sharon Stone enjoying a private moment publicly, and you were the masseur in question would you go blabbing to the management? Of course not, you would be boasting about it to your mates down the pub.

Women! Know your limits!

The Real Gone Goose

She was wearing tight pants and a polo neck. Something was wrong though. She looked smart - but casual. I undid my raincoat and found a cigarette but there were no matches and no lighter.

Fire. That element was missing and I couldn't smoke, but she knew that and sort of jeered me from behind the sofa, where she lay, sewing a ribbon on the soft thing. The soft thing was multicolored, like a carnival novelty. But somehow I was aware of the truth.

"Is it a fake?" I asked, without much concern. "No" she replied with a smirk, "It's the real gone goose"

Charles Clarke/Prescott/Short

What is there left to be said? Only that by the time you read this Clarke will be history. He is probably "considering his position" over the weekend. If he doesn't resign after the latest revelations, then this government really has no shame.

Prescott is also "considering his postition" from the spare room, after some utterly cliched trouser activity. The only shocking thing is how he managed, the charmless bastard, to get two years of free nookie? Of course it is never "free" is it? I believe I came up with the phrase "Two Shags" as the news broke, but it was not long before the red tops picked it up.

Turns out, Clare Short, an old time favourite of mine, is going out with Mo Mowlam's husband. (Of course, Mo is dead, so no worry there) And I had her down for a Lesbian. (The lesbian I had her down for, must be consequently disappointed.)

Guest Contributor - Captain Nice

Hello again folks. Captain Nice here. Actually I am twying to keep a low-pwofile at the moment, hence the Waybans. The Weasel seems to have returned, and may I be one of the first to welcome him with a hearty wip woaring "hello".

I have been saving lots of people from bad things this week - encouraging people to be nice. It's a big job, even for a superhewo.

Lots of vewy bad foweign cwiminals have been let out onto our streets it seems, but that's ok, because they are easy to spot what with hoodies, beards and new vewy expensive twainers. If only life were that easy with personal welationships! When it comes to facial hair and new twainers, not every one is married to Fweda Kahlo or Jimmy Savile.

Cliff Wichard came to mind wecently as someone who has been nice for years. Well done Cliff!

Time to go then, so kind wegards to all my good fweinds.
Sincerely,
Captain Nice

Flint McCrickle - Giant Detective.

Frankenstein - "F" in the A to Zee of crucial movies

Now, I could have mentioned French Connection, the gritty cop movie with Gene Hackman as PopEye Doyle, who hangs on to his quarry like a ...well like a Weasel. With lines like, "I'm booking you for picking your feet in Poughkeepsie" it had to be a winner. Great. I could have chosen Fargo, and deservedly so, with Frances McDormand's Oscar Winning performance. But. It had to be Frankenstein. The original, with Boris Karloff. Not because it is a great movie or art or particularly anything, but because it plants the genre firmly in its place and because it is about an outsider who has been pre-programmed to repel and revolt. The monster with aspergers - he doen't understand why people regard him with horror. Ultimately he is rejected because he is different - ok, also because he kills people - but still, I felt sorry for him in the end.

Also worth a mention for curiosity value - Tod Browning's Freaks.(cast photo above) For years this movie was banned everywhere. It's a simple plot. The setting is a circus full of real life freaks. A beautiful, "normal" trapeze artist plans to relieve the circus midget of his fortune and then kill him. But it all backfires and the freaks exact a terrible revenge.

New Competition Winner

Since the original winner of the Weasel's snack competition has withdrawn (see comments, and original contributions) and thus declined the fabulous prize, I have awarded it to a runner-up who deservedly gets the fab CD. It's Jules.

Announcing the Winner of the Snack Comp

Yes folks, I know the competition closes tomorrow, but hey, I couldn't wait that long! And I have chosen a winner.

Now the competition was tough and all the entries were good da dee da etc.

But, there had to be a winner and it is the enigmatically named "ACT" whose blog intothepot betrays her Italian connections and good taste.

ACT wins because her choices are so revolting, so plebeian and so evocative of an age gone by, I was nearly moved to tears. Those were the days when butterscotch "angel delight" was considered to be a sophisticated treat and people still used Daz.

Since she has put in a bid for "Cheesy Continental Hits" which proved so popular the last time we had a comp, a copy will be speeding to N4 as soon as "ACT" emails me me her address, telephone number and bra size.

weasels decision is final. whingeing pleas for clemency will be sneered at with disdain. by the way, I really only like plain crisps and raw peanuts.

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - Captain NICE

Hello fwiends. Captain Nice here.

I hope I can call some of you fwiends. I enjoyed the Weasel's occasional series "No one ever said that".

So I have bwought you my own!

Would you like a nice cup of Tea? Of course you would. No one ever said, "No, I wouldn't like a nice cup of tea. No one ever said, "Don't bwing me a nice cup of tea, bwing me a glass of cawwot juice" did they? No. No one ever said that.

Kind Wegards,
Captain Nice

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - Colonel Mustard

So the Weasel is away. Gives us a rest from the tiresome little mustela.


But I'm back - fed up with tales of utter shite from the crap hopper. Man in hospital being treated for skin disease, gets daubed in flammable soothing gel. Goes out on the fire escape for a crafty fag. Do I have to tell you the rest of the story ? Twat!

Old tranny, gets the snip on the NHS, after being in the merchant navy and having twenty kids. No I'm not angry about that. What I am angry about is that the said jolly jill tar, or whatever he/she is, now wants the lovely tattoos removed. Nothing wrong with that? Except that the fucker is having the op done (the tattoo op) on the National Health - because - and I love this bit - they are making her depressed. Well in that case Shirley you can go and top yourself or sort out who the fuck you are. But don't ask tax-payers to foot the bill.

Peugeot 306? Come on. It's a crap car. Ask Top Gear. Overpaid motor workers, in Coventry, who recently voted not to work on Fridays. I cannot sleep with the worry of their fate.


Council gardeners somewhere are being asked not to dig near tree trunks in case they sprain their hands on the roots. I am surprised they let them use spades these days, or at least use a less racially charged term, such as "digging tools".


I shall be running in the London Marathon, so look out for me. I am being sponsored, but shall spend the money myself on having a good time.


Seeya mates!

COLONEL MUSTARD

crisp comp

DON’T FORGET THE CRISP COMPETITION

HERE’S THE LINK IF YOU CAN’T BE ARSED TO

SCROLL DOWN

Weasel is taking a short break from blogging, in order to have a normal life. Back soon for the competition result. Take a look at the Archives - there are some pearls.

Mrs Weasel Works the Diner

Gina works the diner all day Working for her man, she brings home her pay For love - for love
(T.S.Eliot)

(Thank You Mrs Weasel)

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - Captain NICE

Hello Mr Weasel. I can't help thinking you have us "yanks" all wong. Mr Bush is our Pwesident, and it is twaditional to get behind him for the sake of the nation. Now I know you would like to get behind him to kick him in the a$$, but let's be fair.

Since the twouble in 1776, we have managed quite well. We brought you House MD, My Name is Earl, Cwosby Stills and Nash, Gweenday, Jon Cox, a promising young artist, Pulp Fiction (the genwe, not the movie) and a little bit of help with the Germans in 1944. We love to entertain and open our homes to you. We have Batman, Superman, Spiderman and (modestly) Me, Captain Nice. Our women, bless em, smell of cookies and milk, and our men smoke "luckies" and dwink Miller. We are just folks.

Please, don't twy and tar wus with the same bwush, Mr Weasel - Come and spend summer with me in Machiasport, Maine, and see how woyally we tweat you Bwitish.

Kind wegards, your pal,
Captain Nice

Anti Americanism? Moi?

The BBC is carrying a story about how Americans in Britain feel abused and subjected to "a kind of racism"

read the link that you will find HERE

The poor woman in the article has to pretend she is Canadian, to avoid being dissed. How low can you get? Canadian? ( I wish I was Canadian, by the way)

Now listen to me babe. Americans over here make the mistake of being so up themselves, so patriotic and so bloody sure they are right, combined with total sense of humour failure, that you deserve all you get, plus a dry slap from me for mentioning Bush or the Stars and Stripes in a favourable manner.

You have one of the most beautiful, geographically diverse countries in the world, and yet you have reduced the indigenous poplulation to a novelty minority, exploit cheap illegal labour so that your pool stays clean, and wage illegal wars on people who cannot defend themselves.

And, (and this really pisses me off) in a world where two thirds of the people on this planet are hungry, America holds Competitive Eating Contests! (That's the fat bastard in the picture, described, with total lack of irony as, "an ambassador for the sport of competitive eating"

And so the second word is "off"

Get this month's RFID and Logistical Tracking Monthly - Out Now!

A brand new magazine dedicated to those among you who see lorries on the motorway and wonder where they go.

Are you a would be terrorist? Like to keep track of things? Planes, Lorries, Buses etc? Then RFID and Logistical Tracking Monthly is for you. (Just drop me an em@il, Mohammed, and I will send your details on to the relevant department)

RFID. - "I know where you live"
brought to you by nannystate.com

Goth Culture

I have always had a soft spot for Goths, and the following article concerned me. It is about Goths being "more likely" to self-harm.

click THIS link to the BBC article.

Any comments from Goths about this are gratefully received.

Frank followed the Rodeo

Since Brokeback Mountain came out Hollywood has been busy commissioning a few more cowboy movies with a novel twist.

FRANK FOLLOWED THE RODEO is about a closet frotteur, Frank Fannon. He marries the girl from next door. Unfortunately, nextdoor is a mortuary and Gina has a phobia about washing her hands - an unfortunate trait for a mortuary attendant, but it would have been wrong to discriminate against someone with her condition.

Inevitably, family tensions arise and Frank is forced to leave his cowboy job and become a trainee sausage wrangler for Walmart, with a good final salary pension scheme and preferential stock options included in the employee benefits.

Margaret Lockwood - again

Just another gratuitous picture of a lovely movie star from yesteryear. Fabulous!

Interesting People

Angela Dworkin. Has to be on a list of the debate on the 2oth century.

I said, "interesting", that is not a wholehearted endorsement!

Go to the Spark to Fire Us blog - SPARK TO FIRE US

or click on THIS direct link to the post

and consider the issues.

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - Captain Nice

Hi folks. Captain Nice here, just checking in to see if you are saving lots of helpless fluffy kittens and getting five portions of fwuit and vegetables a day. I know I do. But we can't all be super can we?

Neverthless, I am here, and can be consulted on all things nice, and can assist in getting wid of all sorts of bad things. Will your weaders let me know what they would like me to assist them with? Any wongs needing to be wighted? Any misplaced Wenommierschmiss? I can leap into action in a twice!

I like the blog, Mr Weasel, but keep it clean will you? There are impwessionable ol' folks out there who might be offended, not to mention Daily Mail weaders with special needs.

I am afraid I cannot wid you of that Mustard wotter. He is after all a Colonel and accordingly, he outwanks me.

Best Wishes,
Captain Nice

Disturbing facets of the Landed Classes

Here, a well known Somerset Pop Festival Promoter demonstrates the "Upside Down Head" phenomena, not uncommon among the gentry, southern baptists or even the Amish.

Handy Personal Hygiene tips from....

Dan Turner. Domestic Detective!

COMPETITION TIME - CRISPS

Now I know what you are thinking.
"Will it be another one of Weasel's really hard competitions that make me feel intellectually challenged?"

And the answer is NO!!!! You, dear reader, are priveledged to take part in one of the easiest competitions on the planet, perhaps even easier than those phone-ins that ask:

Is your head a. On your shoulders? b. on your feet? c. a small insect?

You don't have to know ANYTHING in fact. All you need to do is tell me, in order of preference, your three favourite flavours (including ready salted) of crisp!

Now here is the bummer: the winner will be chosen entirely at my whim. They will be the person who choice is closest to my three favourite flavours.

So answers on a postcard please, or even to the comments section of this post, beforeFriday 28th April, when the competition will close.

And now for the prize. The prize is another sought after and very exclusive compilation -

This is Perv - a collection of the best ever synth/pervy sex/androgynous leatherwear on CD!
(Owners of This is Perv may select "Cheesy Continental Hits" as a substitute)

Tracks include such memorable ballads as Bondage - Up Yours, Sex Dwarf, and the Perv Anthem, Tainted Love. (Advisory Warning: CD may contain references to premature facial hair, naughty bits, being Welsh, Renommierschmiss, and practices that are regulated by DEFRA)

All blog watchers are eligible to apply. No correspondence will be entered into. Silly or unpleasant flavours of crisp are entered at the competitor's own risk. The value of investments may make you look like a tosser. Compatibility or parity with the Weasel's choice of crisp is not intended to be indicative of a marriage proposal or any other special relationship either implied or historical.

Ghastly old hag wins herceptin fight - your mate, Colonel MUSTARD

Hello Weasel lovers. What pants. what matching bra and pants this blog is. A great death for the Weasel would be.... let me see, no, not in the study with the lead piping, but, just as an easyjet flight dumps the contents of its lavatory over East Lothian, the said contents turn into lethal icy shards as they plummet through the lower atmosphere, piercing the Weasel through the heart. The latest weapon - a crap popsicle!

Now this mad woman who went to court in order to live a bit longer. Has she looked in the mirror recently? See my girlfriend here, "Rainbow Kiss Moonchild", on the right, now she is a senior honey- and Wayne Rooney you can fuck off and get yer own.

Regards, your best mate and guest contributor (muuuwwaahhahah!)
COLONEL MUSTARD

Competition

I feel another competition coming on. Remember THIS?

Cold? You might say that.

It's been f. cold up here. I was hailed on today. Not the twee kind of hail, the butch, horizontal variety.

Jack Frost. NO!!! 

Eraserhead - continuing the A to Zee of crucial movies

Eraserhead must count as one of the most disgusting movies ever made. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

An early outing for David Lynch, whose "Elephant Man" also gets a mention here.

For a full synopsis go HERE

Why do I like it? Where does it fit in? First the story: -I like it because it is about the perversity of fortitude. It is about wood chip mundanity and cold comfort. It is an anatomy of despair and the omnipotence of being earnest.

(oh gee, I nearly described it as a feel-good movie just then, when in fact it is a feel utterly revolted movie!!!!)

The images are like posed still photos from fifty years before (it was made in black and white). I was very aware at the time of the director's use of off-screen sounds to add dramatic effect and ambience. (He did this again in Elephant Man)

I quote from the nostalgia central entry:

It's a waking dream about Henry (John Nance in the title role), a weird character with a peculiar elongated head and hair that stands on end. He lives in an industrial town and fathers the small, bandaged monster. Mounds of earth sit on the furniture, a girl lives in the radiator and Henry's head is ultimately made into an eraser.

It was released in 1977 at the height of the PUNK era. In a way it sits nicely in the kind of cod- nihilism zeitgeist of the times. Daft story? Unbelievable? Not really - it conforms to its own internal logic and the eraser end is a sort of joke on the audience, because you sit there thinking "Eraserhead, why Eraserhead?

You cannot die before have seen Eraserhead.

No. nobody ever said THAT

Chips. French Fries - call 'em what you will.

Someone always pinches a chip from your bag. You say, "Fancy some chips?" Ever heard anyone say, "Oh no, I don't fancy chips." No. Nobody ever said that. (See Ice Cream - in the same series)

Nobody ever said,"No. Not chips. Get me a mung bean, tahini and alfalfa wrap" did they?

chipschipschipschipschips and sauce

Album time - Hunky Dory

David Bowie's career to date is like a narrative of the latter half of the 20th Century. His work is something that can carry the tag, "Art" without too much effort. He is often described as a "Chameleon" because of a thought of ability to key into the musical environment of the time, but that is to mask the fact that he was always ahead of the game.

When Hunky Dory came out, the themes of homosexuality, transgenderism and commentary upon popular culture (particularly mass media itself) were novel, to say the least. Contrary to what the "swinging sixties" may suggest, these were dark ages for people with alternative sexual orientation and prejudice was everywhere (at least, if you lived outside the West End of London). Hunky Dory is a celebration of the trials and tribulations of being yourself, at all costs. Of course, Bowie was mostly straight and traded on the androgny theme because he was a showman, but if that had been his only strength, I wouldn't be here talking about it.

Hunky Dory was not a turning point for Bowie - the earlier "Man Who Sold the World" achieved that. Neither was it musically innovative - Bowie absorbed and synthesised musical trends rather than be at the forefront of them. What Hunky Dory was, and what it stands out as, is a commentary on metamorphosis; an interface between music and the art world of Lichtenstein, Warhol, Jackson Pollock et al and a paean to mutability. It is a rites of passage work, if ever there was one. This is an album to listen to and enjoy because the songs are catchy, melodic and memorable.

"Life on Mars" does it for me everytime. The words "Mickey Mouse has grown up a Cow" has resonated through the decades as a terse commentary on American decadence, in far less words than Crosby Stills and Nash could ever do it in.

Dead of Night - the continuing A to Z of crucial movies

Dead of Night is one of those movies I just happened to catch by accident one day and became established as a firm favourite. Hardly ever shown these days, but crucial, nevertheless.

I shan't bore you with a synopsis here - somebody does it better at this site

Beware though - spoiler warning!

D.O.N is a collection of short pieces brought together in a spooky house type setting, as one by one, the guests relate stories of the supernatural. Filmed in the forties, it relies on narrative integrity and fine acting and direction, rather than special effects to tell the stories. It also included a story featuring those two fine Englishmen, "Charters and Caldicott", aka Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne. I did a piece on them earlier in the blog - HERE

The Weasel Speaks Out!

A ten year old boy has been prosecuted for racist abuse. He actually went to court before a judge, after a dispute in the playground with another boy. He is TEN YEARS OLD for goodness sake, and probably needs a clip round the ear.

Article here

We should protect the weak, not be tyrannised by them

I nicked sweets from Woolworths when I was ten, got caught by the manager, told off, and never did anything like that again. I also, punched my best friend in the face and threw a knife through my foot during a game. My bottom was also fondled by a teacher. I was also bullied so badly I had to leave school at the age of 15. It's called LIFE. You dont spend it trying to get your own back on society by using the very mechanisms that are there to protect you from serious harm. You move on. If you consider yourself to be part of a minority group, think yourself lucky that you live in one of the fairest most tolerant societies on Earth.

Sure, no one should be bullied, or racially abused or sexually abused, but there are ways to deal with this. Prosecuting ten year old boys is not one of them.

Political Correctness is killing freedom of thought and replacing moral authority with arbitrary legalism. It is allowing minorities to dictate the agenda. It is accordingly, undemocratic.

Political Correctness has at its heart the untenable assertion that it has a monopoly of the truth when in reality it is no better than a religious cult for the pusilanimous and intellectually challenged.

BIRD FLU

As some of you may know, we keep chickens.

Since the Weasel lives less than 30 kilometres, as the swan flies, from the place where this dead swan was discovered, we may have a bit of a problem.

The news is now of hourly relevance to us and for now I shall be off making plans and trying to find out the best way of dealing with our little dears. Current thinking is to erect a covered run for them, but it could end up that the only sensible thing to do is to kill them.

Not a happy day for us, and though we have had plently of time to anticipate it, the reality is a very different thing. The Weasel is not a happy mustela.

Comments

I just want to say "thank you" to the people who read the blog - and especially those who leave comments. They are much appreciated. Please take no notice of "Colonel Mustard". He is an unwelcome and unpleasant interloper who has hacked into my blog. I am hoping we can stop him.

In keeping with the "house style", here is another not very relevant picture!!!

GUEST CONTRIBUTOR - Colonel Mustard

Own up! Bastards never die! Every time there is a terrible, emotional and tragic death on the news, the relatives always, and I mean ALWAYS, tell you how wonderful he or she was, along the lines of "Cyril brought sunshine into the lives of all who cross his path. He touched many with his courage and generosity" You never hear, "Well, I am sorry he died so horribly but he was a total shit and nobody will miss him." No one ever says that. That makes me IMMMORTAL!!!

Going to Glastonbury this year? No you are not, because its not on. And anyway, who wants to spend a weekend with 50,000 financial services workers?

Everyone dies in "A frenzied knife attack". Always "frenzied" Well, you would be, wouldn't you? Picture the scene - you stab your loved one (after an almighty row). They stagger and move towards you. "Oh, oh," you think, "This one's not going to go quietly", so you have another stab. An of course the stabee is now on adrenaline and able to do a bit more staggering, along with astonished gasps, of "Why, Frank, Why?" The whole scenario has that element of cold logic to it, doesn't it? Frenzy - just say "No". In the Kitchen, with the Dagger - that's me, that is.

Cutting edge stuff - could be illegal anytime soon

How long will it be before I can't show this horror?

The Scottish Parliament has already banned the depiction of characters who smoke in Scottish made TV.

(This cigarette is a computer generated image. No actual cigarette was lit or smoked and no photographic/media personnel were exposed to danger, either real or imagined, in the making of this image)

nannystate.com "we know best"

QUOTE OF THE WEEK

For the likes of me ....

Never worry about the reader, what the reader can understand. When you are writing, glance over your shoulder, and you'll find there is no reader. Just you and the page. Feel lonely? Good. Assuming you can write clear English sentences, give up all worry about communication. If you want to communicate, use the telephone.
from

"Writing Off the Subject"
from The Triggering Town by Richard Hugo

I am indebted to my friend Violet Trimble-Hartnett for bringing this to my attention this week.

Interesting People

I had a conversation with Cardinal Basil Hume in 1980. He was full of life, full of mischievous joy and a man who seemed to be close to his God. I was supposed to be interviewing him but he first took my microphone away and hit me over the head with it, and then - this is true - ran off with the tape recorder and started asking his startled priests daft questions. He came back to me and enquired, "What do you think is the main role of the Church in society today?" This was after all, the leader of the Catholic Church in England, who, had he been alive, would certainly have been in the running for the highest office.

I was simply priveleged to be in the same room with him.
The photo shows him on typical form.

A decadent weekend

Oh what a decadent weekend the Weasels had. I't not all green wellies and chicken poo at Weasel Central - oh no. We slaked our thirst with Mumm Cordon Rouge (does the trick when you can't afford Krug) and an exotic cocktail called, in our house, a GREEN KIMONO. (aka Japanese Slipper) I rather enjoyed slipping in and out of consciousness between drinks. I used my preferred Vodka of course, Stoli, and midori. The addition of lemon juice gives this lovely cocktail the colour of the kind of thing they suck out of the cooling tanks at Sellafield.

Credit must go to Lotte Von Madhaus, our Wagnerian heroine freind, for introducing us to such a criminal activity.