If you’re like me, you will watch the first 30 seconds of this trailer and start questioning whether it is actually a trailer for a Dario Argento movie or whether it’s some kind of weird parody. Luckily, I was able to question Brendon on the matter and he confirmed that yes, this is actually a…
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BrainFart: I know I’ve reached middle-age because I’ve just bought six bottles of wine and don’t intend to drink any of them, because they look better in the rack. Actually, stop: I know I’ve reached middle-age because I have a wine-rack in the first place. The AutoCue Says Keep Filling: Important! News! From Scandinavia! Pity…
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BrainFart: All-righty-then. Let’s talk POPE. His pointy-headed Holiness descends upon these fair isles (there’s got to be an “aisles” pun there, but this is SACRED and PURE and NO LAUGHING MATTER also I can’t think of it) on Thursday 16th September. He’ll be rattling-about in his funny little popemobile from Glasgow to London, spraying Blessings…
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The Keyboard Is My FuckMonkey: Okay… Back to last week’s ongoing Super-Heroic Super-Ramble. CATCHUP CORNER: You’ll recall we concluded — using the triple-pronged spear of Logic, Axiomatic Truth and Si Shouting Nonsense Until We All Nod And Agree — that the modern archetype of a Crime-Fighting Super Hero is occasionally hamstrung by the sheer unbelievability…
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The Keyboard Is My FuckMonkey: Steroidal Science-Powered Archetype of Teenage America’s Wishful-Vision-Of-Perfect-Adulthood seeks new role, new challenges, new costume. No cape-work, no call centres, no Nazis. Action and excitement a MUST!!! Call 555-DECONSTRUKT-COMIX. That’s pretty much how my brain runs when I get the opportunity to write Superhero Fiction, these days. It’s the same for…
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News From The SpurSphere: Forgive me dipping oh-so-briefly into the horrors of Social Politics — specifically that least divisive of all issues, ho ho ho, the Police — and accept my promise to be as juvenile and reactionary as possible. BRACE BRACE BRACE. It’s nothing new at any rate; I’ve written before about the Creeping…
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The Keyboard Is My FuckMonkey: “Mind the gap!” So shrieketh the subway-based baddie in underrated 70′s schlock horror flick Death Line, which is on my tellybox right now and therefore relevant, and coincidently acts as proof that lumpy-faced cannibalistic B-movie bastards have more than a little in common with Accountants. Why? Because “mind the gap!”…
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Kultcha: Terrible movies can save us all from an Evil Future. Behold My Tortured Logic: See, a couple of Interesting Viewing Experiences this week have hacked-open a rambly contemplation in the viscera of my Culturegut, on the subject of Indefensibly Bad Stuff Being Defended By People Who Should Know Better. We have all seen this…
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Kultcha: Overheard conversation between Angry Teacher and Smarmy Little 8-yr-old Schoolkid Bastard, during school-trip to Cultural/Historical Motherlode The British Museum. AngryTeacher: Bradley! Bradley! How dare you? I heard that! I heard what you called Ashoke! Come here! SmarmBastard: But sir! AngryTeacher: At once! SmarmBastard: Sir, you don’t understand! You don’t get it! AngryTeacher: You do not…
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The Keyboard Is My FuckMonkey: Like a sluttish protein syruping itself into the Primordial Cell, Google continues to invade my Working Routine. “I’m vital to your evolutionary complexity,” it smarms, “but I’m only looking-out for myself. How did you ever manage without me?” This time round the Nonsensically-Named-Infopire made its presence felt — by which…
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This Week I Have Been Mostly Hating: …Having the cruel wobbly knife of gender inequality rammed-home with a corkscrew twist. During a recent visit to a Businessman-Gravitating, Baby-Squealing, Fuckwit-Attracting Noisegasm (cf: “Starbucks“) — about which I believe I may have Vented previously — my sixteenth cup of coffee finally worked its way through my Herculean…
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BrainFart: Much has been made, in recent years, of the ubiquitous MetaFiction Movement. Technically that’s any piece of narrative which wears its Not Really Real-ness on its sleeve: often reminding readers of its own fictionality, sometimes deliberately muddling them in layers of Oh-So-Very-Post-Modern self-awareness, and generally preventing the poor thrill-seeking fucks from getting too engaged…
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