10,000 Goofs in 10,000 BC

I could be witty and say there are 10,000 reasons to watch or not to watch this film, but the truth is I can think of only one reason not to... it sucks. It is a bland, made for TV movie that promised more than it gave. "From the Director of Independence Day and The Day After Tomorrow" brags the poster. Really? I was thinking more along the lines of "From the Director of Xena Warrior Princess and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys" judging from the costumes, lazy historical research and weak plot that I had to endure for a whole one hour and forty-nine minutes.

And the winner for best costume brought in the Woolworth's closing down sale goes to...

I would be diplomatic and say "It's not that I hate these fantasy adventure series..." but I do. I really, really do hate them. In fact, I would go so far as to say I hate them as much as I love Jessica Alba, so that's a lot of hate. I was so hugely disappointed with 10,000 BC, a film that -judging from it's poster- I thought would be along the lines of the epic '300' that I couldn't help myself but to look up the factual errors and goofs to see if my suspicions were correct. And, of course, they were. Now, I haven't had a history lesson since 2000 but I was still pretty certain that in 10,000 BC they did not have pyramids in Egypt; they were erected around 2630 BC. Also in the opening scene an extra who sees the blue eyed Evolet (blue eyes were actually a genetic mutation from around 6,000 to 8,000 years ago) says "Jesus" in shock. I should have just turned the DVD player off there and then.

I gave the film a chance though, I mean, it's made by the director of The Day After Tomorrow, Roland Emmerich wouldn't let us down would he? Oh. He does. Repeatedly. And then he scrawls his filthy name over this historical atrocity to get extra sales that the film doesn't deserve.

The film starts with the tribes people living in harmony, but of course this can't last and most of the tribe end up being taken by demon's on horses (even though horses weren't domestically trained for human travel until 4000 BC... OK, OK I'll stop. The other goofs can be seen on IMDB here) and it takes D'leh and a small group of fellow hunters to save the tribe and the love of his life: the beautiful, blue eyed Evolet.

Another gripe I have is the authenticity in casting. Instead of getting Monica Gellar during her reggae phase and covering her in foundation the creators of this film could have gotten a more credible looking actress and given her blue contact lenses. The audience can also tell immediately who the main characters are judging by attractiveness, which shouldn't be relevant for a pre-historic film where everyone should smell, be covered in grime and have brown, rotting teeth. For example, the more Hollywood looking D'leh (played by the handsome Steven Strait) looked more like a model doing Vogue's September magazine on 'Savage Chic' than a pre-historic tribesman.

Authentic...

Not authentic

D'leh and the other mammoth hunters follow the demon's through various countries faster than a NASA space shuttle, battling giant birds, saber-tooth tigers and galloping mammoths along the way. They survive these feats and join other tribes people whose people have also been kidnapped into slavery. They create a small army, take on the demon's who are sacrificing their slaves, and save everyone in a typical Hollywood ending.

D'leh: "Please don't kill me Mr. Saber-tooth."

Saber-tooth: "Alright then."

There is more I could say about this film such as "Blossom from Eastenders is in it and she somehow saves Evolet with her tears at the end after Evolet is hit with an arrow." but what is the point in telling you that? It's stupid and a lazy way for the writers to get her to survive:

Writer 1: OK we need Evolet to get hurt to cause drama but she can't die because people don't like it when hot girls die. Only for them to be in trouble and then be alright and get their man and live happily ever after.

Writer 2: Right on. So how do we keep everyone happy and make a really great, convincing film at the same time?

Writer 1: Well from what I know of pre historic times (which is fuck all. Clearly) is that the head of the tribe always has magical powers.

Writer 2: No way! That's almost too convenient for words! We are so lucky to have you as a researcher and writer for this film.

Writer 1: What can I say? I'm a genius.

I would suggest watching 10,000 BC if you are more interested in style over substance, or alternatively if you are a big fan of daytime fantasy adventure TV series that are usually on Living or ABC. Otherwise just watch Apocalypto.

Must Be the Season of the Bitch.

Christmas day on the box and the soaps are all for the festive feeling of loving and giving. First was Coronation Street with the return of Satan's sister Tracy Barlow, a woman so foul and shameless she could make the most cynical and jaded of soap watchers suck in their teeth and shake their head in disgust. In an hour long Christmas special we watched as Tracy stole the show: bullying her neighbours, throwing juice over her daughter, fighting with "Beckeh" and blackmailing Steve into giving their daughter to her permanently.

It was almost as shocking to see no change in Ken and Deirdre's scolding of their daughter. She teases grieving widow "Clur" about "what's his face" Ashley and makes a tasteless joke about a tram, only for her mother to tut and say "Oh, Tracey!" She winds up Gail, a woman she tried to frame for murder, and when Gail complains about this it is Deirdre that snaps "Do shut up Gail! Not everything is about you!" Yes, Gail is self absorbed and annoying. Yes, she has had bad luck with husbands and boyfriends which have given her a lot of attention in the street... but surely complaining about Tracey's lack of shame for her crimes is a just reason for complaint? It's hardly like kid's in a playground griping about a Chinese burn is it?

Although Tracey, with that trademark crocodile smile, is a horrid character I'm sure Katherine Kelly (who plays Becky McDonald) is thrilled at her return; their sniping at each other and fighting makes great comedic viewing. 

On BBC1 we had the original soap bitch Janine Butcher pulling all the stops out to salvage her twisted relationship with Ryan. Yesterday she had crowed about the revelation of Stacey killing Archie to a packed pub and had hoped that would be enough to get Stacey out of hers and Ryan's life forever. Not so. Like the little boy that cried wolf, tried to kill his boyfriend, prostituted himself and stole from and lied to everyone around him, Janine learnt the hard reality: people do not believe a word that comes out of her manipulative, lying mouth. It was then that she decided to take more drastic measures to get what she wanted.

With Ryan and Max both racing about like headless chickens out of love for sexy strumpet Stacey it was the perfect opportunity for Janine to get Stacey alone. In an intense stand off that had me snapping at the TV "For God's sake why would you have that horrible cow in your house? I'd grab her by the hair and I'd say 'fuck - OFF Janine!' and then I would kick her out of my house. That's what I would do. None of this listening to her. It's stupid." Janine tried to cajole the truth out of Stacey who was faltering and breaking down by the minute. When manipulation and bullying didn't work Janine grabbed a knife, placed it in Stacey's hands and stabbed herself. It was outrageous. What happened to the good old days of waking up, opening presents, having a nice roast and drinking and being merry? 

In shock Stacey walked out of the house with blood on her hands and climbed up on to the roof of the Queen Vic. While Max tried to talk her down, Stacey's Mum Jean returned to the house with Lily to find Janine stabbed in the kitchen. Gillian Wright played Jean to perfection as the betrayed mother, confused and heart broken by her daughter's behaviour in scenes between Stacey and Jean that were truly touching. Jean finally relented and believed her daughter's innocence, telling her daughter to go before the police arrive.

The relationship between Max and Stacey reached it's final destination at London City Airport. "I love you Stace." said Max, probably saying it to a woman and genuinely meaning it for the first time in his womanising life. "But you are my dearest friend." replied Stacey. Ouch. "And I love my silly Bradley. I do. I love him." Aww! Max returned alone to the square and smiled up at a plane that Stacey was on with Lily. It was a great final episode for Lacey Turner and showed the love the Eastenders writers have for the great character that is Stacey Slater. 

For family humour Coronation Street won the Christmas soap battles but for typical bleak drama that had you on the edge of your seat Eastenders won by miles.

Port El Kantoui: Day Three and Four.

We woke up, got dressed and went for a walk along the beach. Every day we are harassed by Mohammed the tour guide who wants us to pay extortionate prices to go on quad bikes, go on a boat ride or to ride a camel. We paid the deposit for the camel and horse ride, mainly to shut him the hell up and walked on. A man stopped me to say "You have cold yes? Red nose?" I muttered a thanks for his honesty and rolled my eyes. He's the third man to stop me and comment about my crusted red nose; perhaps tact is something that can't be translated through broken English.

We took our shoes and socks off and it is lovely to feel warm, soft sand between my toes. As we walk along I notice that a lot of the beach huts are similar to those in 'Donkey Kong Country' on the SNES. I take photo's of Ali walking with her feet in the sea and try hard to get a real feeling of Tunisia in the photos... only to get pissed off that the only photos Ali takes of me are close ups of my sweaty, snot ridden face. Sigh. While taking in the closed beach huts and glimmering sea I stood on a twig which embedded itself in my foot. Yelping, I begged Ali to remove it then ran to stand in an estuary to soothe my sore foot in the salt water. My moment of calm was ruined by Ali saying "That's sewage leading into the sea." Nice one.

We came off the beach and as I sat on the steps putting my socks and Ali's converses back on I heard "Wipe the sand off your socks before putting your sandy feet in my shoes. Sand stains you know." What, the whole three grains on my sock? Alright then. We walked down an alley which took us into town and I casually kicked a stone. Ali snapped "Did you just kick that stone to piss me off? Are you trying to stain my shoes?" honestly, she said it like I was trying to ruin her life. It was only an effing stone. I walked off in a sulk, only to be photographed by a Tunisian man from his window. This only made me more angry and I shouted at the crowing cockerel to "FUCK - OFF!!!" I don't know what it is about this place. It's meant to be relaxing but any time I am in public I feel incredibly angry and on edge.

There was a robot and space ship shop in town, and by that I don't mean Tunisia is giving NASA a run for their money. I mean the decor was of planes and space ships and robots as a way of drawing in the impressed tourist. We went into the government owned shop where there are price tags on stock and the shop assistants don't harass you to buy things, they just stalk you like you have three ASBO tags for stealing jingling about your person like tacky black bracelets. The shop assistant tried to be funny with Ali and asked "You are English yes? And your friend (i.e; me) is Jamaican?" Oh, AHAHAHAHAHA! Excuse me while I roll about the floor in mirth. After being in the shop for half an hour, being stalked the whole time by a burly security guard, I brought some "snide" Dior sunglasses and the shop assistant / moonlighting comedian said to me "Ah nooor! What happened to your nose?" God. Help. Me.


Ali and I headed back to the hotel to watch movies on our hotel room TV. There is little night life in Port El Kantoui but we didn't mind. We aren't big drinkers and came more for the sunshine and the beach.


Day Four:


Ali is feeling poorlier. We were going to head into Sousse but instead stayed local and went to Port El Kantoui's Botanic Zoo. A worker there put a parrot on my head and arm for photos then asked for two dinar. You don't get owt for nowt these days. We fed the llama's and stroked the chiauaua's before walking around the zoo. There were lots of different birds that we chucked seed at and got stalked by yet another cat. There are cats everywhere in Tunis. Ali and this cat had a certain bond and it followed her, sashaying around her legs like the little flooze it is. This bond was swiftly broken by the appearance of a new cat on the scene which Ali stroked. That was it for the other cat. No more sashaying, no more following. It punched its paws at Ali's hands like the cat in 'Scary Movie Two' and dug a nail deep in to Ali's hand, making it bleed. She was concerned about getting ill from it but it wasn't rabid, just jealous. The cat continued to follow us either glowering or showing its tummy to us, depending on it's quickly fluctuating moods.

We came to the goats and fed the big fat greedy one which was climbing up the gate in unimaginable starvation judging from the size of it, the greedy git. Can goats get Prader Willi? There appeared to be two half goat half sheep animals that were two of the cutest things I have ever seen. So adorable. The zoo didn't take long to go around but for the sake of five dinar it took some time out of the day.

We walked to the port and admired the boats of the wealthy before sitting on a bench on the jetty and watched the fishermen and the clearness of the water. In some vain attempt at feeling better we brought a deliciously fresh orange juice from a stall then went back to the hotel room. 

Ali sat on the balcony while I read '1984', a brilliant book. Later we played mini golf and our banter was intermingled with our frustration with being ill and being harassed constantly in public. It became quite the competitive game. When we took our clubs back we were asked for the tenth time if we wanted to pay 60 dinar for a massage and it took all my patience not to scream "NO, NO, I DO NOT WANT A MASSAGE! I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE TOUCHING ME WHO I DON'T KNOW! STOP ASKING!" Or, as Hagar the Horrible would say: "@*#!!?&*@!"

Journey to the airport / First Two Days in Tunis

We had to get the train to Gatwick airport at 11PM and Ali hadn't even packed yet. This was because she spent the night before boiling me alive as she tossed and turned with a fever of 38.9. At one point she kissed me in some vain attempt at proving to herself that she was not ill at all, oh no, because ill people don't kiss. Her stubborn yet feeble attempt was emotionally touching to see but physically felt like 3rd degree burns on my lips. No wonder they went so flaky. She kept complaining she was cold and clung on to me through the night as I kept the rest of my body out of the covers to avoid heat stroke. I tried to stay awake through the night to make sure she would be OK but by quarter past one I was exhausted and selfishly went to sleep. The next day I woke up and was in such a good mood after seeing Ali up and about in comparison to the cold, lifeless body I expected to find next to me. What can I say, I’m a worrier.

So, that’s why Ali hadn’t packed. I had told her to see a doctor but she refused and spent the day playing Guitar Hero to distract herself from illness and deliver her from evil, for thine is the music, the star power and the rawkness. Amen. I spent the day feeling great and watching ‘Futurama’ up until about 6PM when my throat had a little catch in it. I was coughing a little but thought nothing of it. We left at half 10 and arrived at Gatwick at 12. Only 6 hours to go in a cold, air conditioned airport. Great. It wasn't long until I started getting chest pains whenever I exhaled; this was soon followed by the shits and a fever. Just what you need before you go to Africa. 

We waited an hour to hand our luggage over, both snotty and aching. Ali couldn't even speak and would express herself verbally with a menacing whisper in a slightly Cockney accent, even though she is from Leeds. 'Eastenders' has a lot to answer for. There was an awful woman waiting in the line who would not shut up complaining and forced her past experiences of travelling to Tunisia on to our suffering ears. It was just our luck that she sat behind us on the plane, griping and grousing the whole journey: “It’s appalling we are holed up like this, shouldn’t be allowed. Sardines have more space than us. Just trying to save money aren’t they? It really is dreadful and the size of that woman’s bag, tsk, shouldn’t be allowed on the plane. And she’s got one on her back. Excuse me Miss, didn’t think you were allowed two big bags on a flight like this. Tsk. I feel like mackerel in a tin of sardines I do. I can’t even fit in my seat properly; disgraceful.” Why don’t you lose some weight then you horrible fat bitch? I turned to Ali who was biting her thumb in a rage and said “I hope she’s not at our hotel. She’s horrible.” We later heard then saw her in the hotel restaurant when we went down for dinner in the evening. Typical.

The plane landed next to sand and water at 9.30AM. We took a tiny mini bus to the hotel which didn't even have seatbelts (the mini bus that is, not the hotel. Why would a hotel need seatbelts?). Fearing for my life as the driver pelted it past other cars in some sort of competitive death race I distracted myself by looking out of the window. There were dogs running about in the roads and Ali sternly said “Don’t touch the dogs Jo” like I had suddenly morphed into Lenny from 'Of Mice and Men' and wanted to “Stroke ‘em and hold ‘em and squeeze ‘em George.” For God's sake. As much as I love dogs I'm not going to stroke any straggy looking ones that could give the mouldy rottweilers in the Resident Evil games a run for their money in the ugliness and rabidity stakes. It was a big shock to the cultural system being in Tunisia. There were cow heads with the tongue lolling out in shop windows and men were everywhere you looked; in bars and café’s, in cars and on the streets. Hardly any women were to be seen. I was told this was because the women worked and a lot of the men are unemployed.

The Hotel Marhaba is a beautiful looking hotel with marble floors and walls. The decor is slightly dated but our room was large with a comfortable bed, TV and a balcony overlooking the palm trees at the front of the hotel. Ali and I both had a high fever but were quietly smug at how good we looked. Flushed in the face and shiny eyed, maybe this illness wasn't so bad after all? We spent the rest of the day in bed drinking unnatural amounts of water. I had four litres of water in twelve hours and only went to the toilet twice.


Day two:


No more looking good. Good looks all gone. Instead we were left with clammy skin, glazed eyes streaming noses and watering eyes. To get some fresh air and escape the acrid, foisty stench of our hotel room that was brimming with germs and bad breath we took a walk along beach. Port El Kantoui has beautiful beaches with stunningly clear sea water. We walked down the golden beach and around the port where we were harassed by men. It reminded me of Peter out of Family Guy when he tries to chat up women: 


“Hey pretty lady how ya doin’? I’m Peter-“ (woman walks off) “Well screw you you’re a bitch” 


We soon realised that Tunisia is no place for two young women with no male company. You are either harassed for your money or for your body, or for both. We noticed a woman in her fourties with metallic eye make up on smooching a young Tunisian in his twenties. She was at the bank, getting money out for him and had a black eye under the metallic silver she had chosen to decorate her face with. Quite depressing, no?

Trotting up and down the road that lay before the hotels was a man on horse and cart. He halted to talk to some English holiday makers only to be interrupted by Ali who shouted at him “That’s disgusting. Feed your horses!” Stunned that someone with a vagina has spoken to him in such a harsh manner he asked “What?” to which Ali repeated “You are disgusting. Feed your horses.” Then grumbled to me about how none of the money he makes must go on carrots for those poor horses and how the Japanese are really nice to animal but in African countries they are cruel. Yeah, what about that girl who gouges cat’s eyes out with her stiletto heels?


We noticed the horribly loud and crass woman was walking towards us but managed to avoid her by pretending to observe the statue of the giraffe we had walked past four times already. Still feeling ill with temperatures of over 38 degrees we decided to go to a pharmacy. The pharmacist wanted 51 danir (around £26.00) for some antibiotics we didn't even need. Rip off. We brought some paracetamol and fever sachets and went back to the hotel room to do an online NHS quiz on fevers. It has obvious questions hinting at septicaemia, meningitis and appendicitis. No, no, no. “Do you have general aches and pains, a snotty nose and high fever?” Yes, and lots of the above too. We have a virus. Woo.

Slick hair, eyes that can barely stay open and a red nose. Fit.

As part of our package holiday we get free breakfast and dinner so we went down to see what culinary delights they had for us. Not much that I would call a culinary delight... just lots of mushed up, bland food to suit the tastes of the ancient and dentured; otherwise known as the majority of holiday makers in the hotel. Lovely. We were sat right next to other people, so it was hardly a romantic atmosphere for two rheumy eyed lesbians hoping for a loved up break.  We were exhausted and annoyingly the couple next to us fancied a chat. We had to listen to them as they regaled us with their experiences of Tunisia. So many seem to come back year after year and enjoy acting like smug tour guides or “know it all fuck alls” as my sister would call them. They told us the Tunisian for "fuck off" if we are harassed which was hardly a polite way to talk to a monster that the Westernised world has created. You can't create a beggar and then scold the beggar for begging and since when did politeness cost anything? It just seemed as though this couple came back each year to feel like they were somebody important, where their small amount of money made them rich and special compared to being Mr and Mrs Normal at home. I found it very unattractive and depressing. 


We were also subjected to horror stories from the women on the other side of us as they told us of white women going into carpet shops only for the doors to be barricaded by men while the men inside raped them: “The women would be covered in love bites. It was just awful.” one of them said as though this was an hourly occurence in Tunisia in the 70's and probably still goes on now. Indeed, it would be awful... if there was any truth in it! We left our new dinner guests to their ignorant conversations and went for a walk through the ports funfair. It was dated and had paintings of classic Disney characters and a few typical rides like Dodgems. I doubted I could ever get used to the attention from Tunisian men, knowing I am more of an observer of what goes on around me rather than a person whose desire it is to be observed.

X Factor Final.

Quelle surprise and quelle domage, a taxi has been called for Cher Lloyd. The poor girl has had weeks of hate mongering in tabloids and "I hate Cher Lloyd" was one of the biggest tweets on Twitter. But why? I'm not a rabid Cher fan, slavering over her every performance, but I do enjoy her musical talent and appreciate that she has improved the X Factor this year. She has upped the game. No easy options or lazy song choices, she has shown up her fellow contestants with her bravery and stubborn showmanship. It has cost her the X Factor crown but in the long run it will be Cher laughing her way to the bank, performing to crowds and not only singing the music she wants to sing but also being appreciated for it.

But what about the performances tonight? Matt's version of Dido's "Here With Me" was beautiful but there was more chemistry between Matt and a carrot than there was between him and Rihanna. His shaky attempt at licking his lips at the sight of those absolutely scrumptious thighs was as transparent as the duo's pawing at each other. You could actually see Matt vibrating with fear at the Goddess standing in front of him. When talking to Dermot O' Leering afterwards Matt said that he looked up to Rihanna. Yeah, by about two inches short arse.

... sizzling

Rebecca always astounds me. I didn't recognise her first song but it was beautifully performed and that dress was stunning. Her charm comes from her humility and the quiet pride seen in her gorgeous smile after singing a song well. I hope she wins. Her duet with Christina Aguilera was excellent up until Christina came on the stage. Literally swollen headed from her own arrogance, it was almost as though Christina was competing with Rebecca, to show her who is boss. It was a shame.

One Direction's "Your Song" was nicey nice. Soft and Christmassy with a slightly off key ending from Harry. His head shaking as he walked off stage showed his disappointment but don't worry Harry, those curls let you get away with anything. Their duet with Robbie was well sung but the hackneyed sight of Robbie curling his lips and nodding his head in the cocky way that makes him "The Robster" just, well... pissed me off basically. I think One Direction probably will win it. Too many girls with hormones and not enough with real musical taste.

Cher's performances as ever were original, unique and something enjoyable to watch. Her duet with Will.I.Am was perfect for her and was a definite highlight of the show. At seventeen she shouldn't be hated for being different. Give the girl a break.

On holiday in Tunisia for a week. Ta ta!

Coronation Street Tram Crash.

Day two of the tram crash in the most dangerous street in Weatherfield and we have the residents recoiling from the aftermath. A mixture of favourites and dead wood are trapped and waiting for help as those safe on the cobbles are about as helpful as a chocolate teapot: "I'm not a doctor." says Gail tetchily to the only doctor on the street. "Yes, but you ARE a first aider." he replies; nice to know we've got your support in a crisis Gail. Same with Janice, another first aider, who stands frozen in shock as those around her wallow in pain in the Rovers. Shaun shouts at her for help (as he shouts through the whole episode in a melodramatic attempt to portray his panic and need to hold it together) and to tell him what she needs for people's wounds. "Hot water and ice" is her reply. What about salt water or someone searching for the first aid kit for some antiseptic wipes and sanitised dressing? Good lord.

Elsewhere Jason, Kevin and Tyrone are throwing bricks about in an attempt to find Molly and the baby who are trapped in Dev's shop and Nick, "Ashleh" and Peter are trapped in the office of The Joinery; Lloyd  has dug out his wife beating ex (way to cut the wheat from the chaff) and pulled Cheryl out of the rubble, only for them to be pelted by polystyrene rubble. In all of the panic no one has thought to question where their children are (save for "Beckeh" who is racing round like a maniac for Max who was missing before the explosion) and at the the moment Leanne realises Simon is still with "Clur" there is an explosion at the Peacock residence. Lloyd races in like a looter on the nick and takes two kids in each arm away from the raging fire. "Clur" follows, spluttering and bewildered... as you would be if your house had been on fire long enough for the windows to be too hot to touch and had then exploded from a swift kick at the door. Why the Hell didn't they get out sooner if they were all conscious enough to notice the house had flames everywhere? Maybe it was part of the kids party and they were all chilling with marshmallows and telling ghost stories before realising the bonfire had got a bit out of hand. But where is little, cute, curly haired Simon? He's only ran upstairs to hide in a wardrobe! Wasn't this kid already in a fire with hid Dad? Shouldn't he remember the dangers of fires and smoke exhalation after nearly dying? Maybe I'm expecting too much from a frightened child but it is a frustrating and slightly lazy turn of events on the script writers behalf.

I read that William Roache claimed the tram crash would be  "one of the most exciting things that's ever happened on television." but it was hard to believe this statement as he barely flinched as the Peacock's house exploded. As Deirdre pulled muscles in her neck, gurning in horror and Eilleen clutched at her chest, Ken's face remained as impassive as a man watching a sunset on typical winter's day. Jason meanwhile, much to his Mother's chagrin, raced upstairs battling flames and bland decor as he tried to find little Simon hidden in the wardrobe. With Simon in his arms Jason must now get down the flame filled stairs. How will he do it? Tune in tomorrow for the answer.

Elsewhere Fizz is going into early labour with a murderers baby and Rita is still lying out cold on the floor in the cabin. I hope Rita is alright, institution that she is. Nick and "Ashleh" have managed to yank Peter from out of the rubble but are still trapped. Fun loving "Ashleh" suggests they all go for a beer together once this is all over. Yeah, because the last night out together went so well. It is while "Beckeh" is running around screaming for Steve and Max that we find out what has happened to Sunnita. Crushed up to her neck by rubble could she be one of the four funerals?

It's been twenty minutes and a whole ONE doctor with an attitude problem has turned up on the street, like the explosion and tram crash is a massive inconvenience to his life. There's been a pile up on the motorway so looks like the wounded are stuck with Gail and Janice until more help arrives; I'm surprised it's only four funerals with those odds against them. Molly is passing out and the baby's cries are being heard by real Dad Kevin and poor Tyrone who is about to lose everything as the two dig feverishly to get to little Jack. Elsewhere Jason is still stuck with Simon, Sunnita is looking more like a goner by the minute, Fizz is still going into labour and Nick, "Ashleh" and Peter are still trapped. The episode ends with all of these cliffhangers to get the audience hooked and I can't wait for tomorrow. Here's to 50 more dramatic years.

Tooth of the Dog

"Dogtooth" is a film that is unforgettable. That is not to say it is very good, enjoyable or even your next Sunday afternoon favourite to snuggle up and watch on the couch, but it is unforgettable nonetheless. The film is mainly set in the isolated, fenced up home of a Greek family whose three children have never seen the outside world. The film starts with the three children listening to a tape recording of their mother's voice as she expands their unique vocabulary with her own twisted definitions of words. She refers to yellow flowers as "zombies" and a large armchair becomes the "sea". This is to control the children and isolate them more so from the outside world.

The father is the only member of the family allowed to leave the house. To instill fear into his children he keeps his car inside the compound and never touches or sets foot on the floor outside of the fence in front of them. He also creates another brother who he claims was ostracised from the home for bad behaviour, thus keeping the children obedient and submissive. What the father doesn't realise though, is that his children are now past the stage of puberty and are starting to question what is behind the fence that keeps them in exile.

With his son becoming older and his primal urges getting stronger the father hires a security guard at his factory to relieve his son. The security guard is blind folded until she reaches the family's enclosure and is taken to a room where awkward, cold, missionary sex takes place. The security guard soon tires of the son's lack of interest in her own sexual pleasures and bribes the eldest daughter to perform cunnilingus in exchange for a  headband. This confuses the daughter who then uses licking as a way to placate her sister and father when she wants something.

Later in the film when the security guard attempts to bribe the daughter with hair gel the bribery doesn't work. The daughter has realised it is she who holds the power in this situation and demands the two video tapes, "Jaws" and "Rocky" that the security guard is holding. Secretly as her family sleeps the daughter watches her first ever film, "Rocky", and becomes engrossed in the violent storyline. She later recites quotes to her bewildered siblings and tells them to call her "Bruce". This is when we learn the children do not even have names, as the younger daughter says "I wish I had a name like Bruce."

That morning a cat is in the garden. The son's terror at seeing this tiny, cute creature is tangible yet amusing. To save his sisters and himself from imminent death he stabs the cat with shears. Frightened his children will start questioning the outside world, the father covers himself in fake blood and claims the ostracised son on the outside was killed by the cat who came in the garden. The children throw "zombies" over the wall in respect of their deceased brother and are then trained to protect themselves from other cats by getting on their knees and barking with their mother.

Along with the themes of sexuality and submission, the political subtext in this film is heavy handed and strong as Lanthimos forces us to question our own Government's intention of instilling fear and isolation into all of us. As CCTV follows our every move and violence in computer games is banned we believe this is to protect us, as the children in "Dogtooth" believe they too are being protected.

That is to say that it is not all fear and misery in this Greek family home. The parents play games with the children through the day, not only as a distraction, but to also make them competitive and keep them fit. Their prize is usually a sticker to put on their head board and occasionally a toy plane. At first it is disturbing when the children say they want the planes to fall out of the sky but their minds do not see planes as actual planes but as toys which, unbeknown to them, their mother throws into the garden. The competitive nature of the children is enhanced by a belief that when they are at the level of maturity expected of them their "dogtooth" will fall out and be replaced by a new one. This non existing tooth is their escape into the outside world.


It is the night after "Rocky" that Bruce slips "Jaws" into the VCR, only for her father to wake up and catch her. He asks her to give him the film and get him some masking tape. Calmly, he wraps the masking tape around his hand and the film before brutally attacking his daughter around the head. This is clearly a man who does not like losing control. He then goes to the home of the security guard, beats her and curses her to have future badly behaved children.

With the security guard not around to relieve their son of his primal urges, the two parents get him to sit in the bath with his eyes closed. His two sisters are brought in and he paws at them, trying to decide which one to pick. He chooses Bruce who is bathed and dressed nicely by her mother for the occasion of losing her virginity to her brother. The girl is clearly in discomfort throughout the scene and afterwards threatens her brother not to hurt her again with a quote she heard on "Rocky".

It is at this point in the film that it becomes obvious that the children's minds are becoming more warped from their surroundings. Bruce and the younger daughter dance for their parents and brother in a strange and ludicrous display of awkward moves and gestures. Bruce gets carried away, dancing until exhaustion as her mother scolds her. Later that night, in a shocking and graphic scene, Bruce knocks her "dogtooth" out with a dumb bell. Leaving the sink bloody and her tooth behind, Bruce races to her fathers car and climbs into the boot. As she locks herself inside her family have noticed her dissapearance and race to find her. The mother and two other siblings bark at the entry gate as the father runs down the road and into the bushes to find her. With no luck the family go back to bed, upset at the loss of Bruce to the outside world. The film ends with the father parking at work and a close up of the boot of the car.

It is a difficult film to watch with no particularly happy ending. Does Bruce escape or is she caught by her father? Does she die from dehydration in the cramped boot of the car? Do the other children ever try to escape their prison? Lanthimos leaves his audience with more questions than answers and his characters still trapped in their own deranged world, which is probably how he likes it. 

Reasons Why Gillian McKeith Really Is Pregnant

Gillian McKeith, previously known for her pooh obsession, has been the highlight of this years "I'm a Non Entity Give Me Some Money and a Bit Of Fame In Exchange For My Soul and Dignity". She bewildered, frustrated and bemused the public and her fellow "celebrities" (I mean, Aggro Santos, who?) before claiming to be pregnant and finally leaving camp. This claim of pregnancy brought chortles, scoffles, titters and the like to all those who watched... or read about it in The Sun. But not me, no sir. I'm a believer, and this is my list of reasons why:

1) You are never too old to get pregnant. Yes, Gillian is a 51 year old woman. Yes, she should have dried up years ago, and judging from her tired and slightly haggard face that could be true. However, there is proof of much older women becoming pregnant, such as the 70 year old who had twins.

2.) Lack of periods. Menopause or pregnancy? You decide.

3.) Horniness. With pregnancy your hormones are up and down and driving you crazy; sometimes crazy with lust for the most unlikely male specimens around you. Gillian went from a fragile, self absorbed woman to a purring sex kitten as she flirted with Shaun Ryder, a man who claimed: "If Gillian was my wife, she would be in pieces in a plastic bag, deep in a hole in the back garden." Lovely!


4.) Mood Swings. Gillian would be fine one minute, in tears the next. She flirted and joked with fellow camp mates but would later turn on those around her, once getting angry that Shaun Ryder would taint her vegan meal with his worm eating in a trial the day before. Erratic? Definitely!

5.) Refusal to do trials. Perhaps the maternal instinct was kicking in and the desire to protect her child from creepy crawlies, lizards and alligators was far more stronger than having popularity with the public.

6.) The pregnancy bloom (see above).

6.) Fatigue. How many times did McKeith collapse on the show? I rest my case.

The Human Centipede First Sequence

I bit the bullet the other day and watched the film that everyone's been talking about. You know, the biologically accurate one with the mad scientist who stitches three people together mouth to anus. The one that makes you cringe at the thought of it being humanly possible and made you check on Wikipedia whether this statement was actually true. The one called The Human Centipede.

   It starts out in the same vein as Hostel; two cliche bubble gum headed girls in a German hotel are getting directions to a night club. They get in their car and drive through a secluded area only to get (surprise!) a flat tire. After being sexually harassed by a fat, foul mouthed pervert the two run through the woods to find safety and shelter. And what safety and shelter it is! They knock upon the door of a mad scientist who, inspired by Josef Mengele, dreams of creating a human centipede.

Warning bells should have been ringing for Lyndsay and Jenny after they asked Dr. Heiter if he had a wife. "No, I don't like people." was his curt reply. Slipping a pill in their drinks he then just had to play the waiting game. The girls wake up in a ward that the doctor has set up in his basement. This is when the film gets messy, both in surgeries and script. The problem with a one idea movie is that once the idea has been shown there is nowhere else for the movie to go.

Unlucky for C.

The doctor showing his monstrous plan on a board to his victims is genuinely disturbing but the build up to his creation is far worse than seeing it. Bandages cover the offending areas of the three victims to prevent too much gross out for the audience and also to save money. The result is slightly disappointing and the paper thin plot does little to carry the rest of the film to it's ending.

  It is an interesting idea to have a Japanese man as the head of the centipede. Dr. Heiter's intense dislike of people is probably why he has someone who can not converse with him at the front, thus allowing him to create a pet for himself. Katsuro's shouting becomes that of a bark, his weeping a whimper. With dehumanisation complete the doctor walks the human centipede around the garden and trains it to fetch his paper. He also gets the siamese trio to eat out of a bowl on the floor and keeps them in cage at night. It is out in the garden when the call of nature becomes too much that the film loses it's edge and becomes sickly humourous. Dr. Heiter is ecstatic at the sight of a Katsuro shitting into the mouth of Lyndsay and yells "Feed her!" and "Eat it bitch!" as the poor man weeps in misery and humiliation.

  The film continues with the sub human creature becoming more miserable and depressed. There is a failed attempt at escaping that ends with the trio getting a good whipping but aside from Jenny becoming extremely ill from eating twice recycled food little else happens until the police knock on the door. Yep, the film had to go somewhere and the easy and contrived answer would be for the police to come along and save the day. Except they don't. Instead their idiocy and complete lack of detective skills gets them both killed in a unresolved, bloody and messy ending that leaves everyone except Lyndsay (the middle of the centipede) alive and alone.

This is apparently the first of two films based on the same concept of a human centipede. The sequel, to blow our minds with its originality, will have more people attached together to create a larger creature. Contrary to the belief of Tom Six I don't think this is necessary. The Human Centipede First Sequence is more than enough arse to mouth action for anyone. It is definitely a film to watch, but hardly a film to enjoy.

Get Thin With Skin

After seeing Skunk Anansie at the UEA on Thursday night I had hiccups from the tremulous base, a possible heart murmur from the shuddering crescendo's of rock and slight deafness from the relentless drum bashing, screamy rock and roll blues of support band The Virgin Mary's. Was it worth it? Definitely.

   My girlfriend is a massive Skin fan, along with (from what I saw of the various cliques in the audience) other lesbians, die hard fans in their thirties and forties, students wanting a bit of a mosh before blearily belting out "Weak" and the alternative dread locked or Gothic who were caked in eye make up that they portrayed to be as dark as their soul. Me? Well, to sound like the emo and socially challenged: I didn't quite fit in.

  What I knew of Skunk Anansie was obviously that Skin, with her shaved head and fierce unconventional beauty, was the star of the band. In the 90s she demanded to be seen and heard as she belted out hits such as "Weak", "Secretly", "Twisted" and "Hedonism". Of her songs I knew the usual suspects but had never thought to buy the albums.

  Skunk Anansie disbanded for a while and it all went a bit quiet so when Alicia excitedly told me they were touring again I had the same reaction as most people: "Skunk Anansie are still around?!" The answer to everyone is yes. Yes they are and they are bloody amazing live so next time they're touring go see them!

  We arrived early so we could get front row views. Sadly we didn't notice the massive speaker that was practically snogging me it was so close to my face.  The Virgin Mary's came on, a band I had never heard of and assumed would be a group of sneering, feminist dykes with chains hanging from each of their nipples and attached to each others in a symbolic and kinky show of solidarity. How wrong I was. Three hillbilly Leedonian's strolled on to the stage and proceeded to deafen me in an unrelenting display of rock and roll noise and energy. So much noise, in fact, that I would blink / flinch with my eye lids every time the incredibly talented drummer battered the drums. Although I enjoyed the Virgin Mary's after three songs I just wanted them to get off the stage to save my ears.

  Once The Virgin Mary's left the stage a curtain fell and hid it from view. At 9pm a light display began as Skin  did a bit of DJing that got everyone dancing. She then came to the front of the stage, showing her silhouette that displayed a rather impressive feather boa and stiletto's. The curtain fell and the band jumped straight into one of their more rocky songs. I watched, open mouthed, bewildered yet astounded, as Skin raced around the stage like a woman half her age. Her energy and charisma was a sight to be seen and I doubt any other singer has drawn my attention to them as much at a gig. 

As Skin jumped, skipped, twisted, climbed and ran around the stage I couldn't help but think she should bring out a fitness DVD. It could be called "Get Thin With Skin" and the blurb could be:

"Oi, Charlie big couch potato! Weak are you are, get your Twisted body off the sofa. Secretly you want to be thin and you're going to get thin with Skin! Now you're going to aerobicise to my Glorious Pop Songs you Hedonist. Remember, just because it tastes good doesn't make it right."

I think it would be a best seller, frankly.

   When she wasn't singing Skin was so brazen and tongue in cheek with her own on stage pomposity that you couldn't help but be sucked in by her. It was a similar on stage charisma to Tiggs of Chew Lips fame; it's an indescribable ability to draw people to them and keep people hanging on to their every word. 

   The die hard fans sang along to all of Skunk Anansie's songs but it was when they sang "Weak" that the crowd went wild, jumping, moshing and screaming with joy as Skin walked on people's hands and shoulders before being crowd surfed back to the stage. Quite how her voice remained so strong and in tune as people grabbed at her was a mystery but she managed it with ease.

  After an hour and a half of mesmerising entertainment the band praised one another and did a solo of each of their instruments. It was nice to see that, after all the years they have been working together, they still enjoyed being in the band and touring. Even if you only know a couple of songs I would definitely recommend Skunk Anansie as a band to see. Skin bouncing about in a cat suit was worth the price of the ticket alone.