Andy's Glasses

When Eddie Murphy made that atrocious remake of the Nutty Professor, very few Jews complained that the Jerry Lewis role as professor was originally Jewish. Who basically gives a shit? The re-make was so awful no-one wanted to make any claim to any part of it.

The play Hamilton is a historical production in which all the cast are black. Even though the original old white men, the founding fathers, weren’t. No complaints. In fact the show’s apparently brilliant.

Yet when Sky tv make a re-make of Michael Jackson’s life, there’s uproar. Because the title role is being played by a white man. Uproar. Led by Ms Jackson Junior who claimed the programme made her want to vomit. So they’ve pulled it. ‘Out of respect to the family’. The vomiting family.

This is not about any form of racism or discrimination. Because no-one really cares what colour people are in films. And I don’t think its specifically about Joseph Fiennes performance either. There was no lack of realism there. Nor would there have been if Michael had been played by a white girl.

Its about the chronic tragedy that was the life of Michael Jackson. One of the most brilliantly talented performers of his, or any, generation, other aspects of his time with us were rather odd, a bit bizarre, well on the far side of ‘eeeuuuwww’. And Michael Jackson, in 2001, when the film was set, was no longer the ‘little black boy’ of the Jackson 5. The family can make claims of a skin disease whitening his skin, but it wouldn’t account for the almost total facial reconstruction he’d had too. Which, deny it or not, whatever the reason, took a sweet little black boy and turned him into an androgynous little white person of undisclosed gender affiliation. Thus when you see Joseph Fiennes as Michael it is essentially funny. In the main part because it is so realistic. And that, I feel, is what the family don’t really like. That he became something of a joke-figure.

So if Mike Tyson had played Michael, the effect would have been the same. He was a seriously tragic figure. Whatever colour. Or lack of.

Dmitri Payet is different. He’s a very nice colour. But everything else about the West Ham (for the very short term) midfielder is really not very nice. He is horrible. The worst kind of horrible. Because he’s repetitively horrible. He has a history of playing for a club, ok, playing quite brilliantly, then demanding to leave. Just out of the blue. And not just demanding, but refusing to play, refusing to train, everything but an all-out hunger strike. West Ham obviously don’t want him to leave, they’re doing pretty badly with him, heaven knows what’ll happen without him. But he’s no longer an option. He’s returning to Marseilles. From whence he came. And where he performed the same stunt a few years back when he wanted to leave.

Therefore Dmitri Payet is my tosser of the week. And that’s a real achievement for the little Frenchman because he’s been up against Trump, Obama and a lot of stiff competition.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

A few months back I had cause to mention the new ‘Hyperloop’ transport system. It works on the basic principle that: if the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, the fastest way to travel along that line must be better than using slight modifications of Stephenson’s Rocket. Our new HS2 trainline (should it ever start, heaven forbid) will use trains travelling at 250mph. Elon Musk’s Hyperloop travels at 760mph. You could get to Birmingham hours earlier than by train, so YOU COULD LEAVE MORE QUICKLY. Surely that’s the whole point of ever going to Birmingham, to come away again and count your blessings.

But it wouldn’t go to Birmingham. It would go to Edinburgh. In under an hour. You could go just for lunch. Though no idea why you’d want to do that, unless your cholesterol levels were dangerously low.

Using the hyperloop technology is going to be ‘free’. Elon Musk, Mr Paypal, Sir Tesla, has decided not to sell the plans, just give it to the best proposal using it. Dubai will probably have the first one, running one to Abu Dhabi. To see if excessive gold and diamonds will slow the thing down significantly. And I’m not sure the exact nature of the ‘competition’ but Britain apparently has four bids in the game. One being from Liverpool to Hull. Useful that one.

But its that technology. Its wonderful. A vacuum tube with a ‘train-thing’ suspended by magnets and whizzed along frictionlessly by compressed air. And speed. Oh my, the speed.

I have no idea what such a thing might cost, but I’m gonna guess its ‘rather a lot’. Unless IKEA are doing a special on do-it-yourself, flat-pack hyperloop vacuum tubes.

So why fuck about with HS2. Old technology, old ideas, variations on ‘slow’. Its not like its cheap. Its outrageously expensive and brutal on the countryside. Though to be honest, there’s plenty of countryside out there, we won’t miss a little bit taken away.

Let’s do it. I want one.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

Someone published the bookies odds about the Trump presidency. You get very short odds on Trump not making it through the first term. I wonder what odds you get for him not making it TO the first term. If he can survive the next few days of scandals and accusations, surely someone can assassinate him, can’t they? Not like there’s any shortage of guns and gunmen out there. I’d bloody do it myself as a public service, if Easyjet flew to New York.

Yesterday was more scandal. Russia hacked the Clinton campaign, which we knew but for some reason saw no reason to act upon. And more importantly, Trump was involved in an ‘incident’ at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Moscow (soon to be re-named the ‘Titz-Carlton’) in the Presidential Suite. I won’t go into the lurid details of the accusations… oh, why not, they’re so funny be rude not to.

Trump ALLEGEDLY stood by whilst a group of hookers peed on each other. Having previously described Trump’s hair as ‘a golden shower’, this is almost too ironic to even consider. For some reason, what the press was most concerned about was that said allegations took place on ‘the actual bed that President and Mrs Obama had previously slept in!!!!!!’ As if that makes the perversely voyeuristic activity much worse than merely watching a few Russian anorexics pissing all over each other. Its almost like they’re actually wee-ing on PRESIDENT AND MRS OBAMA!!!!. And they would have done, if the Obamas hadn’t left that suite 17 months before. I don’t think they even had a late check-out facility.

Trump denied all this shit. As he would. And as he should. If it had been Tibetan monks pissing themselves that would be different. But Russian hookers? Nyah.

I’m bizarrely excited about the Trump presidency. Mainly because I live in London, which is in nuking distance from Washington, but not close enough to actually be part of the lunacy that is going to ensue in 10 days time. Mostly though, much as I really can’t even bear to look at the man, let alone listen to his garbage, it will be interesting for us all to see a man in the White House who knows nothing whatsoever about government or politics. A man with ‘no filters’ on what he says or does. And a man who ain’t really all that bright. Will the macho bravado in-yer-face posturing give way to something more diplomatic? Something more subtle? Ok, that’s doubtful.

But personally, I can’t wait.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx

An ex-public schoolboy (only in England is this phrase wrapped in stereotype) was trying to blackmail girls to either: (option A) pay £100 into his bank, or (B) have sex with him. Otherwise… (dramatic music), he would put photos of them on Facebook!!! I’m guessing these are compromising photos, rather than said gel with grandma on the beach at Eastbourne in December, “gosh its windy here!!!” Or photos of the now ubiquitous Facebook puppies.

All that’s fine. Guy’s gotta make a living, wants to have sex with girls. All perfectly normal. Blackmail? Well, if you’re skint and all else fails?

What is tragic about this tale is the extent to which it is a crime of our times. In which everything, but EVERYTHING is done on a phone/computer. The real world only exists as a temporary pause between snapchats, facebook and a bunch of streaming sites. And thus the ‘ex-public schoolboy’ (and I’m gonna guess it wasn’t a very good public school, more one that caters to the somewhat more… errr… more dense among the upper-middle classes) perpetrated his crimes over social media. And requested that the hundred quid ‘should go into his bank account by 4.30!!! Or ELSE!!!!)

But its all ‘there’. Everything. Every word, every threat, the money, its all online, all not just traceable but available for anyone who looks at the plonker’s phone. At least with ‘used notes, non-sequential, in a brown paper bag, buried in the third rubbish bin at Euston station’ it had an anonymity about it, cloak and dagger, ‘read this note then eat it’, kind of third partiness that was there to protect innocent criminals. Allowed them the possibility of denial. This is like a mugger on the street offering you ‘contactless payment’ facility and whipping out a card terminal. “NO! Punch me, kick me, but not contactless payments!!!!!” And of course the mugger’s mate is video-ing the whole thing, just in case the police need proper evidence later. You have to video everything or its not really happening. Einstein said that.

Obama’s gone. F’rever. Didn’t hear the speech, everything the man’s done in the last 7.8 years has been a total disappointment to me, wasn’t prepared to stay up til 2am for more of the same. He was the wunderkind when elected, and it went downhill from there. I was immensely proud when Americans voted in a black President. Well, when Democrats voted in a black President. And yet the apparent racism in the police has sky-rocketted, gun crime is still at the most ridiculous level (last week, Fort Lauderdale, eg) and then, the coup de gras, he royally stuffed Israel at the already-testicle-free, anti-semitic UN. Michelle should divorce him and stand next time. Funny how her star brightened as his faded and spluttered.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

I am a weekend warrior!! Its official. I’d always thought I was an old git who liked standing on a tennis court with his mates talking about football before heading off for coffee and cakes. But no, I am WEEKEND WARRIOR!!!! a new class of beast that comes complete with its own exclamation marks. Said so in the Times, but if I’m honest I added the ‘!!!!’ myself. Just for dramatic effect.

Scientists followed 64,000 British adults over 10 years. I think we all have to agree that’s a fairly valid sample size and test period. I don’t think they meant, like, ‘stalked’ them. Just probably got them to fill in forms every week or something. Asking about activities of an excercisey nature. Upon which everyone famously lies a lot. “I sat in the pub all week drinking Stout and eating pork scratchings, other than when I was watching telly, eating pork scratchings, so I’ll just put a cross by ‘3 sessions of moderate cardio activity’, that’ll please ’em”. Its the universal way of survey-taking; lie.

What they found was that although ‘regular exercise’ is ‘the dream’, its one most workers can’t attain. So what we do is play tennis/cricket/golf (I’ll include that as ‘exercise’ but not ‘sport’, obviously) on a Saturday or Sunday or both, so we can justify the ridiculous amount of food and drink we shall consume over that same period. Well that’s what I do. And they found that these WWs were a massive, humungous, life-affirming 30%!!!!! less likely to die during the study period. That’s a big ‘wow!’ Just a couple of sessions a week, a few brisk walks, and you’ll live 30% longer, or have a 70% chance of not dying today.

But during the course of the study, 9,000 of the sample died, out of the 64,000 that began. That’s a loss of about 14%. All the fat, lazy Netflix addicts. Presumably. Or so you’d think.

What I want to know is; if you took 64,000 adults over 10 years and didn’t get them to fill in any forms upon which they had to lie through their teeth and make up exercise they never intended to partake in, would you still lose 14%? Is it the study itself that is actually killing perfectly healthy, ok a bit tubby, but normal people?? I demand a re-count.

Donald Trump is unhealthy. In so many ways. He’s fat, actually clinically obese, hair-dye chemicals are notoriously carcinogenic, and his brain doesn’t work in a normal way. Well, not in a normal ‘adult’ way. He is a moron, in fact. I’ve performed my own study and that is the unquestionable conclusion. He’s almost the President of the most powerful nation on Earth, yet responds to any slight or slur by instantly ‘tweeting’ the first thing that comes into that dull mind of his. Playground shit. ‘NO; MY DAD COULD BEAT UP YOUR DAD!!!’ kind of crap.

Meryl Streep called him out for abusing a disabled reporter, itself not the most adult-like behaviour, so he tweeted that ‘she’s no good anyway’ and ‘just a big loser’. And next week he’s going to be the President.

Hail to the Chief.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

There’s a new movie out either now or this week, not sure, been away, lost track. Its called La La Land and its a musical rom-com. Which is a brave movie to make, at massive cost, as the musical genre is kind’a done and over for decades. And most attempts to try and revive it have failed. With a few notable exceptions. In fact I can think of one. Cabaret. Brilliant, brilliant movie. Spectacular even. But not a rom-com. Too many nazis and jack-boots for that. And the lead man turns out to be gay, which didn’t do much for Liza Minelli’s romantic aspirations. Phah! Don’t’cha hate it when that happens?

There was Mama Mia, the film of the play of the song of the… and that was pure shite. Though, apparently, women loved it. Go figure. Does a surplus of emotional potential eliminate good taste? Not prepared to say. And even Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge was shite. Awful. And Les Mis was ok, but only because its such a fuck-off brilliant stage show and even when you cast Wolverine in it, its still pretty damned good.

So the question is: is La La Land a ‘film for women’ or are boys allowed to go too, without sneaking in the side door under cover of darkness to hide their shame?

I like rom-coms. I watch ’em, I read ’em. Unashamedly. Ok, a little shame if they’re really crappy and I’m sitting on the tube (when they fucking run!!!!) sobbing all over my kindle because the heroine who we met on page 1 (slim, athletic, fiesty, just broke-up from love of her life…) when she crashes her car into the hero (ex-military, tousled, biceps like thighs, GSOH…) and they have a big row, finally, 763 pages later, gets to shag him and love is declared.

When Harry met Sally. Sleepless in Seattle. Even Four Weddings. Great rom-com movies. Haven’t seen many in a while because they’ve all starred Jennifer Aniston. Though I’ve seen a few with J-Lo. But only because I’m madly in love with J-Lo.

So La La Land? Will I go with Mel and 250 women strangers armed with their boxes of Kleenex to watch it? Or pretend I’m going to see Death Battle of the Samurai Car Jackers with all the boys in screen 5, then sneak in when the first gunshot scares me?

For Emma Stone, I can handle the shame.

Happy tubeless Monday

A xxxx

I’m going back to work tomorrow. If I can get in. The tube strikers have conspired to increase my holiday by calling a 24 hour strike from tonight til tomorrow night. They’re striking for… errr… well, they’re striking for ‘safety of the travellers’. Probably. That’s the normal reason. And you can’t complain about that, can you. Can you?? Yeah, actually you can.

If the workers don’t get more money then the travellers are in danger. No doubt about it. Its very dangerous getting on a train staffed by workers who feel they’re undervalued. Even though they already earn 6 times the national average and get 13 weeks a year holiday, 14 weeks sickness pay and loads of overtime cos they only schedule a 4 hour week. (Figures may vary… from reality).

If they want to introduce new technology which will arguably make travel safer, the Unions complain that it would actually endanger travellers. If any job is at risk, its us who are in danger.

Jesus, if I’d have known how fucking hazardous it was down there I’d have declined my free, over-60, all-you-can-eat travel-card.

But I didn’t. I took it and said ‘thank you very much’ to each and every tax-payer in the land for their amazing generosity and consideration for the aged and infirm (gotta bad shoulder, ain’t I? Even though I used it to play tennis yesterday and today).

So really I don’t know why they’re striking. And I don’t fucking care. I hate strikes, but tube strikes? Good to be home.

And it is good really because Spurs played today in the glorious FA Cup. The oldest cup competition in the world. When it started New Zealand was still attached to Africa. Wooly Mammoths roamed around Times Square. The Romans ruled Hampstead Village. Long time ago.

So The Cup (there are others but they mean nothing any longer) is still a credible thing to want to win. But…

even with all that history, its also falling victim to the Champions League mania and thus is marginalised in our sporting calendar as a mere side-show, almost a distraction from the league. So even though Spurs beat Aston Villa (hoorayyyyy!!!!) and Liverpool were almost giant-killed by Plymouth Argyle, and there were thrills and surprises, I can only get so excited about any of it. Bournemouth lost to lowly, scummy Millwall yesterday after playing a second string team. Eddie Howe, their manager, claimed that ‘sometimes you get it wrong, you misjudge and pay the price’. But really, Eddie is probably the most intelligent and considered manager in the Premier League and he got it just right. Get out of the cup, survive another season in the top flight, don’t waste energy and fitness on a cup they really could never win.

Ok, gotta go, leaving in 10 minutes to walk to work.

Happy Sunday night

A xxxx

Arrived home yesterday morning at about 9. Managed to stay awake all day, then crashed about 10. Bed. Turned on my Kindle, nah, not tonight, turned off my Kindle and disappeared from the world of the conscious. Woke up at 2, Mel was already awake, slept til 4. Mel still awake, but really, that wasn’t my problem, selfless, caring, loving husband that I undoubtedly am, I did what any man would do. I pissed like an elephant and went back to sleep. Woke at 6.30. Felt good. A very unusual feeling for me at that time. Jet lag is not all negative.

India is 5.5 hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time. Five and a half. What’s that all about? Nowhere has ‘half’ hours. But India does. Because its big and would span two time zones. With the West side being 5 hours ahead and the East being 6. But they couldn’t handle that. Because somewhere in the deepest Gudjerat, just past the donkey as you cross the road for the chai-wallah, you’d gain/lose an hour. And you probably don’t even own a watch, nor a tv, so wouldn’t have a fucking clue what the time was. Other than ‘tea-time’. But its always tea-time in India, its worse than England. So to simplify, all of India is 5.5 hours ahead. Simple.

So at 6.30 today my body was ready for lunch. Though its always ready for lunch at any time, day or night. But instead, I went to Tai Chi. And on the way, via my radio, I learned that Paul Whassisname, the Scouse moron wot now leads UKIP, thinks its a disgrace that Nigel Farage, ex-leader of UKIP (and probably future leader too once everyone else realises what a waste of space new-guy is) should have been knighted in the new year’s honours list. Which I think is a good idea. To put Farage in the ranks of Jimmy Savile, Rolph Harris, Phillip Greene and a host of other diabolical dignitaries. Its almost a rank-of-shame. Which is why they gave one to Andy Murray.

Knighthoods simply perpetuate the ridiculous class system that probably does more to harm the progress in our otherwise fine land than all other acts of stupidity. They’re an anachronism. The only exception really should be judges. I don’t know why, its just what I think. To bestow a useless title on a has-been bongo-player from a boy-band which shone for all of 6 months, in 2003. Or a former footballer who then gets convicted of rape and ends up in jail for tax evasion. I don’t mind Bobby Charlton being knighted either because I love him. But really, unless they want to give me one, for services to… errr… to something, let them go. No value.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

Ya, Houston, we have a problem.

Mel & I hardly ever argue. There’s no point. She’s stubborn as anything and I’m just the most annoying person you’d ever want to argue with. So for me its sport and then we laugh, or she punches me in frustration and gets her own way. Ha, ha, haaaa…

Except water. We argue about water. A lot.

Only in hot climates, obviously. No-one dies of dehydration in Basildon in February. But Melbourne in December? Israel in June? Or, Mumbai in January. These are hot places. Searingly so. And when we visit such places we have ‘the water conversation’ quite regularly. It goes like this:

Mel: ‘oh, there’s a shop, let’s buy some water’
Me: ‘Ok’, let’s buy a bottle
Mel: ‘better get 2- no, get 3, just in case’
Me: ‘in case of what? exactly? We’re walking 362 yards til we pass the next shop selling water, and in 22 minutes we’ll be back at the flat/hotel/restaurant where I’m sure they might have some’.
Mel: ‘well, you never know, and we can use the rest later’.
Me: ‘So we need to carry round litres of water so we can drink it later when its really warm and horrible, in case we don’t see another vendor. And we’re in a shopping mall’.

And so it goes on. I am Aquarius. The fucking water-carrier. When I should be Gemini, even though she is a real twin. Go figure. Show’s how valid astrology is.

Then I often just kind’a ‘find’ bottles of water. Every time we unpack, there they are, we brought them from Goa to Mumbai, just in case the Taj Mahal Palace doesn’t have any. And today, unpacking sadly at home, there they were; her ‘guilty little secrets’, bottles just sort of ‘appearing’ in the dirty underwear, lying unopened in the shirts. I have them lined up in the kitchen in ‘j’accuse!!!!’ fashion.

And when asked what was the ‘hi-light’ of our India trip, what was the bestest of all best bits, I shall have to say; checking into the flight at Mumbai’s brand new airport. ‘WHAT!?!??!?’ they’ll shout, but surely; the Taj Mahal, the manic streets of Delhi, the Red Fortress, the lakes of Udaipur, surely??

No, check in at Mumbai. This pic is Mel ‘in the queue’. Oh, there isn’t one. No. ‘Just sit there and relax and let me have your passports, please’, said the nice little BA chap. We sat, our luggage just there on a trolley. He came back, handed us our passports, boarding passes, some luggage labels and said; ‘don’t worry, just leave it to us, you go through’.

But! I need to queue? I need to get really frustrated. I need to strain my back putting the cases on the conveyor belt, I need… I need…

I need every flight ever to be like that.

Not so sure I need to be home but there ya go.

Happy Friday, happy home-coming

A xxxx

no time today; too fucking busy for this.

and no gloating

A xxxx