Well I gave in to temptation and decided to go to Hyde Park on the 17th June. Nott sure about who I'm looking forward to seeing more, 'Motorhead' or 'Angels & Airwaves'. I saw  Motorhead many years ago at Hammersmith Odeon. If I remember rightly I couldn't hear properly for days. Still it will be good to see Lemmy beating the granny out of his Bass. AVA are bloody good though, 'It Hurts' being an instantly memorable track. So roll on the 17th, I just hope my heart can take it.

Watched this film tonight, I've played the game. I believe I have a handle on what is actually happening, but please can someone give me a simplified explanation. I believe that the reason Sean Bean cannot see his wife and adopted daughter/Demon (whatever it is) is because they are in a different dimension or dead, both ?

can take out Salty Meatballs.

Long URL though.

 

 

 

 

Updated 1930 GMT

 

"So, Scientology, you may have won THIS battle, but the million-year war for earth has just begun!" the "South Park" creators said in a statement Friday in Daily Variety. "Temporarily anozinizing our episode will NOT stop us from keeping Thetans forever trapped in your pitiful man-bodies... You have obstructed us for now, but your feeble bid to save humanity will fail!"

 
Watch the Episode : http://hollywoodinterrupted.com/sp/sp.ram

 

I've just done that whole media player thing.  Now music should be played whenever someone clicks onto the page, but it's a bloody palava doing so.  I've had to hunt out an online file hosting site.  Then upload a track from the media drive, open it with I-Tunes on my PC, get the url address, copy it back to here and eh voila, Music.  For just a short while.  It was playing alright this morning when I went out, came in this evening, clicked into the page, not a bloody murmur.

 

Surely there has to be a simpler way, anyone?

Isaac Hayes is a knob, he made enough money for his cult of lunatics from South Park, but obviously...

 

 

Hypocritical Twat

I know that the writer has distanced himself from the movie, and I enjoy constantly reading the book for it's purety, so it surprises me a little, that I'm getting more than a little excited over http://vforvendetta.warnerbros.com/trailer_super_bowl.html

 

On to Chamtelle.  For christ sakes woman stopping getting your tits out.  I will admit that I was curious when I saw those mounds kinda floating beneath you pink dressing gown.  I was quite chuffed to actually see the things in question after you came out of the Celebrity Big Brother house and did a photo shoot, but please not every sodding day.  I open the paper, the world going tits up and what do I see, not a story about Iran, no, Chantelle and her tits.  Enoughs enough, no more, it's putting me off fried eggs.

I actually watched this film last night, working on the principal that it couldn't be as bad as the reviews were making out.  Okay I was wrong, it was a film that had every aspect of what makes a movie bad, in it.  A couple of times I found myself screaming at the screen, use your brain lady, get out of the house and run, or kick the crap out of the dolls.  However the lady decided to stay, cliched characters, a cliched script and dodgy animation.

 

Go see it if your depressed or want a quick lesson in how not to make a movie.

a panto dame anyway.  It must well over 20 years since I last went to a panto, kinda get that 'I'm to old for that kinda thing' syndrome, then the 'I ain't got time to do that' thing appears and finally you run out of reasons and excuses.  I'm glad I've run out of excuses, I actually went to a panto tonight, granted I only got to see the second part, but it was still a blast.  All the elements where there, the dame, the bumbling lord/king, the fool, a hero and a heroine.  Oh and the obligatory dancing ladies with long legs and short skirts.  It was quite reassuring, sitting in the front row looking up at the stage, not to have a coronary, stroke, palpatations or a fond memory as I watched these high kicking ladies dancing around the stage.  If I had had any strength in my body it would have taken a herd of wild horses or the 'Spice Girls' singing 'Black Sabbath' to keep me off that stage trying to make fond memories, into fond reality. 

 

I don't know if it was the idea that Panto is so traditionally British that made it all as enjoyable as it was, or the fact that for that hour or so I watched the second act, I left all the crap of modern life behind.  No worries or concerns, just bloody good fun and people enjoying themselves and joining in without fear of ridicule.  By the way, the Panto was 'Dick Whittington', but how the hell Crazy Frog got in there, christ knows, but who gives a f**k, eh.  I recommend a Panto to everyone, go and see one next season, have a blast.

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What I won't recommend is London sodding transport, or at least the twat who was driving the bus tonight.  An open letter to him would be as follows.

 

"OI, Mr M&M's, your driving a bus, not a fucking Subaru Impreza.  It's East Ham to Ilford in London, not 'Need for Speed, Most Wanted'.  I'm sure if you could have gotten away with it, you would have tinted the windows, slapped on a spoiler and wide body kit, shoved flurescents up your chassis and still be injecting NOS as I type this. 

 

Can I make one thing clear, stopping at various bus stops and chinwagging to your posse and then tearing past the bus stop I required cos you didn't hear the bell I pressed... is not going to make you many friends.  Off course you didn't hear the bell, you were bigging it up in you cab acting cool and listening to crap music on your 'oh so blaise (been there done that) 'Ipod/MP3 player thing'.  Oh and shouting 'See You Hen Tea' at some other chavvy driver (cos not one of you have the sense to realise that no matter how inconsiderate you are, someone else is going to be even more inconsiderate, which inevitably led to the traffic snarl up we had tonight) is not clever, espeacially when there are young kids on the bus.

 

Finally, my daughter really enjoyed the hundred yard hobble back to the theartre cos you sped past the stop I pressed for.  Can I just point that you can be as much as a prat as you want to be apart from on two ocasions

1. When I'm already running late and trying to get to the theartre

2. When I'm cycling to work.

 

If I die, it will be in a blaze of glory, not with a tread pattern adorning my head. Oh, one last thing, saying that 'yes you do stop outside the theatre, then saying no you don't but you do it as a favour', is called lying, an untruth, falsehood and a blatant disregard for the actual facts of the matter.  Being as big a twat as you so obviously are, is probably one of the reasons you have your protective screen separating you from the public, cos if I could have got a hold of you tonight, you would now be in hospital having a Ipod/MP3 thingy removed from your rusty sheriffs badge.

 

DON'T MAKE ME LATE FOR THE PANTO, IT'S SO ANNOYING"

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Time for tea, methinks.