Rubbish.

Gripe of the day: People who throw their rubbish out the car.

What's that? Oh, you've got some rubbish in your car? You've just eaten a pasty whilst driving, and you don't want to be reminded of that fact? In which case chuck it out the window! No point messing up the car.

If you don't want it in your sodding excuse for a car, why the eff do you think the outside world would want it?

And you shouldn't be eating whilst driving anyway.

Why is it that the more filthy rich you are, the more richly filthy you become?

I spent the day in an attic office in Camden, sitting around waiting for bands to arrive so we could ask them some filmy questions (secretly mine and my colleagues sneaky plan to get free entry to gigs - even if it did fail). One thing I did notice, other than everyone likes a good chat about films, was that the more well-known a band was the grubbier and greasier they were.

Now is this because the lesser known bands have fewer groupies, and therefore more time to wash between moments of adornment from their fans? Who's hanging out with these guys, and deeming them achingly hip, when they pong?

There are many things which essentially stop me being a rock star, and now I can add my standards of personal hygiene as another milestone distancing me from this vocation. Only my arrogance means that I still believe it could happen.

State Of Play

So what started as a night spent in Homebase, thinking whether bamboo or plastic canes will best suit my vegetable patch, ended as worthy night at the cinema watching State Of Play. Doubting that I'd be able to put up with two hours of watching Mr. Crowe act his chops off, I was pleasantly suprised.

A few things to note though, try not to be distracted when you recognise the guy from the Orange ads in the film. You do kinda question whether this is an elaborate advertising plant, not helped by the fact that he is the Media PR for Congress. I'm expecting him to suggest that texting someone may help. Or filming the next scene on your 'mow-bill' phone. I remain suspicious throughout the film as the plot relies on videos, the internet and phones to build on the story. Though print wins out in this big scoop is better than rolling news flick, with the credit roll a lovely homage to the printing press.

Secondly, it's nice that both Russell Crowe and Rachel McAdams have the same hair style from behind, yet from the front Russell appears to be channeling Justin Lee Collins. I'm just thankful that it appears he's cut it off Gladiator-stylee for Robin Hood.




Thirdly, this film would have been horrid if Brad Pitt had played Cal. Horrid.

Oh, for anyone mildly interested, I went for bamboo canes.