Do give up the day job

The other day I was daydreaming about what I’d do I won the lottery, outlining my plans for international travel, gadgets and gigs galore, when MWG said something that totally fried my brain.

“You can’t quit your job, though.”

What?!?

The whole point of the lottery fantasy is that you’re instantly wealthy and freed from work. I’m not saying I’d be a total bum, I’d probably try to go pro as a writer and power through on one of my ideas for a novel. What I would definitely do however is quit my day job.

The thing is that for most of us working is a major drag, and you’re unlikely to spring out of bed with eagerness, unless you have a particularly satisfying job like being a rock star, a professional athlete or the hit man hired to take out Piers Morgan.

For the rest of us the only thing driving us from the comfort of our beds is the grim voice of logic whispering in our ear, telling us that if we don’t go to work we won’t have money to eat or do fun stuff. I’m a firm believer in the “work to live, not live to work” ethos, and if my numbers came in I would be able to live without working.

MWG disagrees, saying that even if I was suddenly cash rich I’d have to keep going in until my notice was served. Which strikes me as being extremely crappy, not just for me, but for the folks I work with because quite frankly I’d already have one foot out of the door.

I don’t think that MWG gets this because she’s one of those lucky so-and-sos who’s actually doing the job she’s wanted for years and gets a lot of satisfaction from. She enjoys her career, and that’s a wonderful thing, to have a vocation, but a lot of us don’t have vocations, heck, some of us don’t have careers, we just have jobs.

And a job is something different, it’s something you do to pay for the fun parts of life. Without it you’d happily stay in bed until whenever and spend your days going to the cinema and generally chilling out. Work would be nigh on impossible from that point on. Could you stick out a tough day knowing you didn’t have to be there? Would you put up with your boss giving you grief if you knew you had more cash than him anyway?

Everyone would crack eventually, unless they’re one of those lucky few doing a job they genuinely love. For the rest of us it’s just a question of how much we can take.

Personally, I think not a lot. One article about an exotic location or crazy experience to try and I’d be gone. Or a chance to go to a music festival. Or a major sporting event. Heck, I think the first sunny day would be a challenge.

I’m writing this on Friday evening, so I’m existing in a bizarre situation. It’s a Schrodinger’s Cat type of deal, at the moment the lottery ticket in my wallet is both a winning and losing ticket. Until I actually check my numbers later I’m actually existing in two states- I’m skint, but I’m also a millionaire.

Googled Schrodinger's Cat, liked this one.

Googled Schrodinger’s Cat, liked this one.

I’m probably still skint, the odds are pretty long on this one.

Writing about the lottery reminded me of this old advert.

Writing about the lottery reminded me of this old advert.

But you never know, my next post could come from a Tokyo cafe or a South Pacific beach. If I’m either of those places, I’ll have quit my job.

A man can dream...

A man can dream…

I just have to win MWG over on it first.

Did I just hear a whip crack?

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


Book Review: The Pusher by Ed McBain

This third outing for the men of the 87th Precinct is a fantastic read, with McBain continuing to show his skills as a tough, witty writer of punchy crime fiction and he boasts a fine ear for dialogue. The story here is a little darker than earlier installments, but it works to craft a tense tale of drugs, murder and blackmail.

McBain’s skill is in switching focus, with the plot jumping from one cop to another, even into hushed conspiracies of the crooks, meaning that the story unfolds at a good pace and we get to see the situation from a variety of perspectives. McBain is a master at quickly creating a sense of character and each bull at the precinct approaches things in a different manner and from a different perspective.

the pusher

Starting with a supposed suicide of a junkie and low-level dealer, that raises questions for Detective Steve Carella, who soon works out that it’s been staged to look like a suicide and he actually died from an overdose. But why the cover up? Does it have something to do with a mysterious new pusher on the scene?

As the detectives dig deeper it hits a little bit closer to home for one of the cops, and he finds himself faced by a dilemma, to protect his own or share with his colleagues. As the plot develops several of the witnesses start hitting the deck and tension builds. Will Carella and co. be able to ID the new dealer who’s taken the dead man’s place? Why all the effort to conceal an overdose? And how many more people are the conspirators willing to kill to protect themselves?

It’s a great thriller, zipping along at quite a good place and shot through with little bits of humour. The dialogue is fast paced and tough, and it has a pulpy feel to it. A ripping crime yarn with some fantastic writing on display.

Verdict: The 87th Precinct series continues to impress and McBain shows his skills as a clever, witty writer of thrillers. Darker than the other books, but still a fun read. 8/10.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


My Favourite Films #37: Clerks

This is one of those movies that has appealed to me in lots of different ways over the years, but which I’ve always loved. I first saw it in my late teens as I’d already enjoyed two other Kevin Smith movies, Mallrats and Chasing Amy, and had tracked it down on VHS (dating myself there).

clerks

Initially I liked the movie because it was filled with hilarious, filthy dialogue and geeky references, and I also loved the story behind it, how Smith had racked up masses of credit card debts to get it made and that they’d shot at night at the store where he actually worked (this being the reason behind the plot point of the shutters being stuck down).

clerks quick stop

As a teen I’d made a couple of goofy short films with some mates (unfortunately the masterpieces Death of Action Man and The Skewenian Witch Project have been lost) and harboured dreams of becoming a movie and starting off with a low budget debut. Unfortunately this never got off the ground aside from a few shorts I made at uni, which have also been lost, although somewhere at my Mum’s house are probably notebooks with the beginnings of scripts in.

Smith was a hero of mine, it helped that he seemed funny and cool, and that his geeky style worked for me, but the fact that this dude could make a movie and then become a pro director was inspiring. Smith is a bit of an inspirational figure and even wrote a book where he dishes out some wonderfully positive advice and support for people trying to do stuff.

The third level of enjoyment for me, beyond it just being a funny flick and something I’d like to do, was that as recent graduate who worked behind a counter for a time it really spoke to me. While everybody wishes they could be as open and confident as the best friend Randal (Jeff Anderson), I think most of us at some time feel like Dante (Brian O’Halloran) uncertain of his future and feeling trapped in a rut.

Dante and Randal

Dante and Randal

When I was 23, around the age Dante is, I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, or rather I did, but I was confused and afraid of how to get to them. I’m pushing 30 now and I still feel like that a lot of the time, but at 23 it spoke to me, I was young and aimless. Uni was over, and it hadn’t flowed into a career as easily as I’d hoped. I’d stalled, and I hated it. Worse, I didn’t do enough to get out of it and just whined about my lot in life, just like Dante.

Maybe I’m being too hard on the protagonist, but in a way it’s part of what I like about Smith’s movie, that front and centre he puts a character who is at times annoying. This is a dude who constantly whines, who hates where he is but is afraid to try and get out of it, and who blames others for his poor decisions. In short, Smith has crafted a realistic portrait of an early 20s slacker who thinks he’s better than many around him.

Dante isn’t all bad, he is quite funny in places and his fears and failing are believable and well done, and over the course of the film you do warm up to him, thanks in part to O’Halloran’s performance, which manages to stay just the right side of whiny for most of the movie. It’s also good as it speaks to a certain kind of person, who’s starting to fear that they’re stuck where they are, and that’s where I think a lot of us find ourselves at some point. Smith’s love triangle for Dante is infuriating, as the audience clearly knows who’s the right girl, but it’s realistic of how an ex, even a terrible one, can still hold sway over a person’s feelings.

The problem is also that Dante’s friend, Randal steals the whole show. Played with sarky verve by Jeff Anderson, Randal gets all the best lines (understandably as Smith had originally written the role for himself), constantly annoyed with customers and spouting profanity strewn rants, Randal is a comic masterpiece, firing out filthy gags, angry retorts and generally leading Dante astray.

While Anderson does a great job, the real plaudits have to be reserved for Kevin Smith himself, because his script is the film’s best asset. The acting is stilted in places and shot on cheap black-and-white stock, the movie looks awfully cheap, but the dialogue sparkles throughout. It helps that for a lot of the movie it has a realistic feel to, capturing the trivial debates and arguments you get in with your friends. The foul-mouthed dissection of pop culture are pretty on the nose, and Smith captures geek culture before it flourished online.

The plot is a bit messy, based around a single day it sees wild tangents that include hockey games on the roof, a disastrous funeral, a parade of idiotic customers and even accidental necrophilia. It’s also filled with a plethora of bizarre characters and is the introduction of Smith’s on screen alter ego Silent Bob, who along with hetero-life mate Jay (Jason Mewes) would become a recurring feature in Smith’s movies.

Jay and Silent Bob

Jay and Silent Bob

It’s a crazy movie, but it fizzes with energy and the low budget style works in it’s favour, especially as the grainy black and white actually looks like security tape in some parts. Smith’s script keeps it going and delivers a string of laughs throughout, and while the language might be a barrier for some, it works for me and you could argue that Smith’s sweary geek comedy is still evident in the work of Judd Apatow and co.

It’s a marvelous little movie, full of charm and wit, and proved a great calling card for Smith, which is a good thing as without this succeeding we wouldn’t have gotten his subsequent movies or his magnificent podcasts. Smith deserves his success, not just because he made a movie so cheaply, independently and bravely, but that he made a great movie under those circumstances, and one that still makes me laugh all these years later.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


15 Minute Blog: Jamelia makes me uncomfortable

A variation of the 10 minute plan, decided to give myself a little bit more time today. Written in one go, pictures and punctuation sorted later. 

Ex-popstar turned panel show guest Jamelia has landed herself in some hot water this week after some comments she made while appearing on Loose Women. During the show Jamelia made some massively insensitive comments about how shops should stop selling dresses above or below certain sizes.

jamelia

This is her quote:

I don’t believe stores should stock clothes below or above a certain weight. They should be made to feel uncomfortable when they go in and can’t find a size.

Understandably, this was not received well, with many attacking Jamelia for creating more negative body image issues and it generally being a cruel policy. Awkwardly for ITV she then appeared on Good Morning Britain where she was part of #SelfieEsteem, the show’s social media campaign to improve body image and make women more confident. The campaign is based on a recent study which revealed that many women take five or six attempts to take a selfie, striving for perfection.

This isn’t a surprise, MWG is sensitive about what photos of her I share online and one of her friends was once drunkenly lamenting the fact that none of her selfies were coming out properly as she tried to Snapchat a young male.

But it’s a bit bad for someone who’s advocating for increased confidence and self esteem has, that same week, said that larger women should be made to feel “uncomfortable”.

Personally, I think Jamelia was bang out of order and her pathetic attempt at an apology on GMB didn’t help. Why would you want to make people feel uncomfortable?

As a fat man, let me tell you something for nothing, feeling uncomfortable while shopping for clothes doesn’t make me want to address my weight, it makes me want to hide away from the world. I remember quite clearly going shopping for shirts for a job interview a few years ago and finding that the shop I went to didn’t stock anything that would fit me. The over gelled staff member was embarrassed, I definitely was and I left with no shirt.

After that 80% of my shopping was done online.

Losing weight is tough. This week we’ve learnt that many short cuts are fake, even dangerous, but I don’t think people get that a major barrier to us bigger folks getting in shape is down to the reactions we face.

When I was running I used to feel painfully self conscious. To that end I’d often run in the early hours or late at night, when less people were about. I knew I looked terrible, red faced and sweating, but I was trying, and had someone laughed or made a comment it would have destroyed me.

Over time I got more comfortable, and by the end I didn’t even care how I looked, because I knew how I felt. I felt good, and I knew I was smaller than I had been at the start. I never reached buff level, but I was slimmer and healthier and I’m determined to start running again soon. A new pair of trainers and I’ll be out there, trying to make up for an extended period when Lazy Chris has been in control.

Jamelia’s comments are indicative of this moronic idea that permeates our society. The idea that fat people don’t feel bad about ourselves already, we do. Finding clothes that fit as a bloke is tough, and I know that for women it can be more difficult due to the variety of body shapes and the stigma around larger dresses. As much as the Tess Munsters of this world do their part to help body confidence and illustrate that beauty isn’t dependent on being thin, it’s an uphill struggle.

Tess Munster- founder of the #effyourbeautystandards campaign.

Tess Munster- founder of the #effyourbeautystandards campaign.

Larger women don’t need to be made to feel worse. Losing weight is tough, and sometimes unnecessary. You can be overweight but still healthy enough to live your life, and at the end of the day it’s your life and your body. There are tons of things in this world that make us feel bad and make life difficult, hating yourself is not something anyone needs.

I feel that Jamelia hasn’t fully understood how insensitive she’s been and her defence of “I’m paid to give my opinions” is bollocks. You have the right to express them and we have a right to criticize them, and GMB should have booted her from the #SelfieEsteem campaign. It’s a shame, because I’ve always thought she was kinda cool before, and always came across well.

We shouldn’t be making people uncomfortable, we should be encouraging them to embrace who they are. If you’re a larger lady or a skinny girl, you’re not left out of being beautiful and you should love yourself.

body confidence

Diversity7

If you want to change for yourself, that’s all good, but we shouldn’t be bullying people to change and feel bad about themselves, because that can push people to dangerous methods and be disastrous.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


Book Review: How to Start a Revolution by Lucy-Anne Holmes

A lot of shops put little cheap items by the till in order to prompt idiots to make impulse buys. I know because I am one of those idiots.
Sometimes, however, my idiocy pays off and I pick up something like this book, which is a gem.
I hate to admit I wasn’t familiar with Lucy-Anne Holmes, I haven’t read any of her novels and the name didn’t ring any bells. The campaign she founded did though.
LAH founded the No More Page 3 campaign to get The Sun newspaper to drop its traditional topless models.
I must admit that for years I hadn’t given Page 3 much thought, it just being one of those things that was just there in the background. I don’t read the paper so I wasn’t exposed to it.
When I heard about the campaign I did think about it, and agreed. I’m not a prude, this was about context. Why was a newspaper featuring topless women and what effect did this have?
Probably negative ones. Not only was it objectification but what did it tell people about women’s role in society? That they were just meant to look pretty? That all they had to offer was tits?
LAH’s book details her campaign and she concisely lists her objections, but the book, as the title suggest is also a great guide to how to effect change and mount a campaign, in a positive manner.
Holmes is clear on this throughout, the campaign wasn’t uptight, it was fun (they included a LEGO page 3 girl due to the toy company’s association with the paper and the problems this might cause, which is an eye catching and interesting approach, as you’ll see below) and friendly, there was very little ranting and self righteousness, they simply expressed their passionate opposition and explained why Page 3 was problematic. And in the end they won.
Its a great quick read and Holmes is a warm, engaging writer and gives good advice on how to mount a campaign and how to deal with trolls. It’s just wonderful, one of the best impulse buys I’ve ever made.
Verdict: A warm and witty guide to 21st century campaigning and a brief history of the No More Page 3 campaign. Holmes is a wonderfully charming voice and the book has a nice, positive vibe. 8/10.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


UKIP are wrong about Foreign Aid

UKIP launched their manifesto today and one of their policies is to reduce foreign aid spending.

This is exactly the kind of policy that ‘Kippers will like because they probably assume that a massive was flies out every year so that Johnny Foreigner gets a pool or something, when it really should be used on reintroducing national service or building a giant wall around the UK.

For me it was just depressing to think that this is what might be a deciding factor in how some people vote.

“Send money to victims of natural disasters or the developing world? Bah! Not on my watch.”

You must be one callous dude or dudette to think like that.

And before anyone chips in with “charity begins at home”, tell me exactly how UKIP are sticking up for our poorest and most vulnerable?

The thing is on issues like this the general public will, sadly listen. This is because they are pessimists or morons, sometimes both. A study a few years back (link) revealed that the general public tend to think things are worse (subjectively) than they actually are.

Foreign aid is one of these.

In 2013 the UK hit its foreign aid target. That target was 0.7% of the gross national income.

0.7%.

That’s pretty damn low already.

The Guardian (link) worked out this was £180 per person. Or £15 a month.

That’s not a lot.

UKIP would argue that its wrong for each UK citizen to be deprived of £180 a year. Well, that’s not the issue. The government would find somewhere else to spend it, and probably somewhere less moral than foreign aid.

Personally I’m glad and proud that the UK aids other nations. But maybe I’m just soft or, you know, possessing compassion.

Not only are UKIP wrong, but contradictory. They should embrace foreign aid spending.

UKIP are extremely anti-immigrant (unless they’ve married them) and this xenophobic nature lurks behind the “cheery bloke with a pint” photo ops. It’s little wonder the party is repeatedly hit with racism scandals, racism being xenophobia’s nastier big brother.

The thing is if you don’t want immigrants the sending money abroad is a good idea. It’ll improve the situation there, and the nicer it is there the less likely they’ll want to come over here.

Nige and co. should want to spend more- a theme park in every Polish town, ponies for all Nigerians and free WiFi coverage for every inch of Romania.

Of course, that’d be a harder sell. Far easier to ignore the facts and scare a bunch of heartless, pessimistic morons.

The kind of people who have ensured that Comic Relief has to point out they help UK causes too.

When did we get so heartless, Britain?

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


Awkward moments: Wet balls

Like any rational person with a basic understanding of hygiene and germs, I don’t like touching toilet flushes. I get why we need them, but imagining the other hands and what might have been on them touching the same handle is gross.
So I applaud that anonymous genius who invented the hands free flush. You know the thing, there’s a sensor and you wave your hand in front of it and it flushes.
Its genius and keeps you away from unnecessary germs.
But like the inventors of mobile phones, cars and television, this clever fellow’s gift to mankind, while useful can wind up in the hands of idiots.
Like the folks who design the toilets in the St David’s centre in Cardiff.
They’ve gone for contactless flushes (and soap dispensers) and that’s great the problem is that after they made this decision they let a complete knucklehead install it.
It was because of these idiots that when I sat down to go about my business on the way to work earlier this week, I wound up with wet balls because the flush went off literally as soon as my arse hit the seat.
I’m a big bloke, but I ain’t the biggest, so if my shoulder is setting off the sensor then others will to. And take it from someone who’s been there, having to tissue dry your balls before you go to your first day at a new job is not a great experience.
This is why, regardless of the genius of an idea, if its initiated by idiots it’s all foe nothing. A tiny bit of thought or sense would have told them to put the sensor someone else, and kept my balls dry.
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


1000

This is my 1000th post on this blog.

I’m not sure whether blogging this much counts as an achievement or is just a testament to all the time I’ve wasted over the last three and bit years. Personally, I’m going to lean towards achievement.

I’ve really loved keeping a blog, this taking over from my previous blog, which in turn had grown out of my MySpace account blog. All in all I’ve been blogging for about 9 years now, with differing levels of regularity. I can’t believe that in 2012 I managed to blog for every single day, despite working full time, especially as I really struggled to keep my posts regular when I returned to university and even since, I think having a girlfriend really eats into your sitting around pointlessly thinking about stuff time, which is most definitely a good thing.

MWG’s presence is one of many things that have changed since the first post- I’ve moved cities, lost a grandparent, become an uncle, gone back to uni, dropped out of uni, seen Lady Gaga twice and in that time I’ve still managed to watch far too many movies and read a bunch of books.

I’m definitely happier than I was back in October 2011, even if a lot of things haven’t changed- I still daydream about traveling around the world and being a proper serious writer. In fact that’s where the blogging came from, really.

I started blogging pointless lists and things while at uni the first time, but since then I think I’ve gotten better at it. I’m not saying I’ve transformed into Norman Mailer or Hunter S Thompson since my first MySpace posting, but I think I’ve gotten better at putting my points across, a little bit funnier and to use a rather pretentious phrase “found my voice”.

I’ve stopped going for lazy gags, and I think I’m definitely less laddy now. Reading over old blogs is a weird thing to do, because while lots of them still echo how I feel, I’ve noticed that at other times my opinions have changed, or softened. That I’m far more easy going now, less inclined to rants and a bit more sensitive in how I express myself. Maybe I’m finally growing up.

I hope that the people who read my blogs are still enjoying them, and will stick around as I continue to plough on, and I hope they think that while I still use daft puns for titles, and occasionally post drivel, that my writing has gotten a bit better since that first post all those months ago.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


I think you’re too late guys

Every Saturday some of the market stalls go outside and walking down St Mary’s Street treats you to a mixed bag of vintage artefacts, battered paperbacks and general tat.
This weekend there was a stall selling random old photos, another which tempted me with old Now albums and a third which sold old badges, which I treated myself to a couple (see above).
There were also vintage clothes stalls, but they don’t really interest me. Clothes shopping is, for me, the worst kind of shopping, outside of looking for tombstones for loved ones. I hate trying things on and its mind numbingly dull, gods bless the internet, I say. What’s worse is vintage clothes shopping, because while old fashioned clothes can look cool (Hawaiian shirts, old gig tees and military jackets), people tended to be thinner back then so they don’t have fat man sizes.
The problem was that the vintage clothes stalls had prompted what was possibly the most pathetic protest of all time.
Featuring a solitary banner waver and a man dressed as a fox, it was a protest against fur.
The minimal presence was one thing, but also the target and manner of the protest were uninspired. They were going after vintage clothes stalls. The animals who’s unwillingly donated their pelts would have died by now anyway, and if you’re going against the fur trade shouldn’t you be targeting the future trade?
Campaign against fur farms or the importing of these things. Boycott and pester companies who use fur until they change their ways. Encourage fashion weeks to not allow fur on their catwalks.
I’m against fur, which I admit is hypocritical as I have owned leather goods, but I think I’m okay with that because we eat cows, so its more of a sin to waste their skins after slaughter, or at least that’s my view.
The only time I’d wear fur is if I’d slain the beast myself, like Hercules and the lion.
The thing is, while I admire their cause and their commitment, I found that these two were (a) targeting the wrong people and (b) not drawing attention to the cause in any noticeable way.
We’ve had high profile anti-fur campaigns with big names like Pam Anderson, Khloé Kardashian and others, so the cause is out there, in the public eye.
Perhaps these two would have been better off sticking up a few flyers, or writing letters, because they seemed to be having little effect. They weren’t going to save any animals’ lives and as I saw a woman leave in a new animal-based coat, they weren’t stopping these old clothes being passed on. And surely an old fur rotting in a cupboard is worse that it being used, its not what animal should die for, but as they have isn’t it more wasteful to just leave those coats to gather dust?
Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO


My Favourite Films #36: Dog Soldiers

Sometimes you don’t need the effects to be amazing. Sometimes a monster movie can get by on the characters, the script and the general feeling the movie gives you. This is one of those flicks, because when the werewolves finally have their big reveal they’re a bit rubbery and clearly just blokes in a suit, but it doesn’t matter, because by then I was sold.

ds sarge

The reason this movie works for me is that it’s extremely British in a way, although maybe not the vision of Britain most foreigners have. This isn’t tea drinking poshos, this is the other end, slightly laddy and naff, if Downton Abbey is as British as high tea, then this is as British as spending all day down the local watching the football.

ds pos

The plot is simple, a bunch of British squaddies led by Sgt Wells (Sean Pertwee) are on a training mission in the Scottish hills, miles from anywhere. The men think it’s a bit of a waste of time and generally complain about the crap weather and the fact they’re missing an important England match.

However, things get a lot more interesting when they find the “enemy” who have been attacked and slaughtered, the only surviving member is Captain Ryan (Liam Cunningham), the SAS officer who passed over squad member Cooper (Kevin McKidd) because he wouldn’t shoot a dog in training. Something begins to hunt the men, who flee with the injured Ryan, and are rescued by Megan (Emma Cleasby), who’d moved to the area to study wildlife. In the process Wells is severely injured.

Holed up at a farmhouse they find themselves surrounded and cut off by the mysterious enemy who seem to be extremely clever and start to cut off any form of escape and pick off the men. As the tension mounts they have to realize that the enemy are in fact werewolves and that Ryan was using them as bait, as the night goes on Cooper starts to suspect that Megan and Ryan aren’t exactly strangers.

What I love about this movie is the humour that runs throughout, because even though there is tension, gore and action, I mainly remember laughing with this film. A lot of the humour comes from the way the characters bounce off each other, especially the squaddies, who banter and bicker like old mates. The dialogue is wonderfully observed for the most part although it does contain a couple of daft moments and one pop culture reference which cracked me up the first time.

The performances are pretty good as well, Pertwee is fantastic as the tough, gruff Sergeant who clearly cares for his men’s wellbeing and Kevin McKidd is fantastic as the resourceful, smart Cooper, the film’s hero. The Britishness extends to this as there’s no massive rousing speech or cocky swagger, just a bloke trying to get through the night, usually with a sarky comment or look of utter disbelief in response to what he faces, and the film has it’s tongue well in cheek throughout.

The other squaddies are also rather good especially the loudmouth Spoon (Darren Morfitt), who when about to go out against a werewolf delivers the fantastic last words “I hope I give you the s**ts, you f**king wimp!”. Classy it ain’t, entertaining it definitely is.

Spoon goes toe-to-toe with a werewolf

Spoon goes toe-to-toe with a werewolf

Neil Marshall directs his debut movie with great skill, building the tension nicely and given the shaky werewolves does a good job of keeping them off screen for much of the movie, just giving little glimpses until near the end. As a script writer as well he knows what’s up and the movie zips along at quite a lick meaning it never lets up and that we know just enough about the characters to care about them.

ds wolf

It’s a solid B movie, with some cracking dialogue that deliver genuine laughs and is one of those movies that you can rewatch over and over again, for my money, Marshall’s never topped his opening salvo.

Any thoughts? You know what to do. BETEO.


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