Friday 23 August 2013

Casablanca and the diet coke conundrum

Hello my little readers,

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Well last night (Thursday for those not paying attention) I went to the cinema. Well sort of cinema. It was an open air showing of the greatest ever film ever made. Ever.

Casablanca.

Now some may scoff and say that other films may lay claim to the title of 'Best Film' and to them I say this: Feel free to argue and debate my claim for through this medium of learned discourse souls grow even more.

You are, however, wrong.

Because it is the best film ever. So there. You cannot touch the performances of Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman and Paul Henreid. And, of course, 'As Time Goes By'...
Basically, if Hollywood ever plans a remake, I'm nuking the place.

Anyway, in the rather lovely setting of the roman gardens in Chester a group had set up a projection screen and over the past couple of weeks had been showing a range of films ranging from the recent 'Avengers Assemble' through the already mentioned 'Casablanca'.  It must have been quite a sight as well giving there must have been about a hundred people all sat on camping chairs of some description (well I was anyway. If you're interested, it cost me six quid from Argos. If you're not interested, er, well it still cost me six quid from Argos) sitting watching this film whilest wearing wearing wireless headphones.

Now before I got there, I had to get some petrol. And as I was filling up I decided to get a drink and some nibbles. So, once inside the shop, I picked up a bottle of diet coke. Now for those that don't know for sometime there has been some sort of marketing campaign on the bottles where names are printed on the label underneath the words 'share a diet coke with ....' It wasn't until I got to the gardens that I bothered to look to see if there was a name on the bottle I had purchased. As it turns out there was.

It was Danielle.

Which presented me with a moral problem.

Knowing the name should I have then gone round all the women in that audience to see if any of them went by that said name. And if so, would they like to share a bottle of diet coke? Would I then risk the unwanted and potentially violent attention of any partners they might have been with that evening? If no Danielle was present do I then broaden my horizons, abandon the showing of Casablanca and go into the Chester night in search of this mysterious lady?

So there, my dear readers, was the problem. In the end I came up with own answer.

I thought 'sod it, she can get her own' and settled down in my seat.

ta ta for now.


Sunday 11 August 2013

The Play's The Thi- Oh bugger

Well hello my lovely little readers,

Now I'm sure if you read last week's musings (and if you didn't, where the hell were you?) that you would be waiting patiently me for to regale you with tales of theatrical success.

But it didn't happen.

This time.

The course of events went something like this:
Thursday lunch time I received a message on fb saying that one of the actors now was unable to make the Saturday. As we only had three in the first place this was a tiny little problem. Becky, who did a wonderful job organising everything, was trying to work around it and so would I be prepared to try my hand at acting one of the pieces. As I stared at the message on the computer screen two things went through my mind:
1: Oh shit! You have got to be f***ing kidding me. I can't act to save my life.

followed, a couple of minutes later, by:

2: Yeah, alright, go on then.

So then I was sent the script. It was a short monologue on one side of A4 sized paper. Though, given that I had two days to learn it, a couple of lines on a postcard would have been a challenge. I think at that point my thoughts were that 'Well, it might not be right good (my acting that is) but I'll give it a go.' Probably should point out that my thoughts rarely come with brackets but you get the point.

So that afternoon and early evening I sat about (work permitting) trying to learn this piece. And I started to get somewhere with it.

Then I went to play badminton which is a weekly bit of exercise.

Came back to another message. This time saying the two other actors didn't feel they could do the event justice with just the two of them having had a bit of rehearsal time so Becky had taken the difficult decision to postpone it for now.

So that is where we are now. It will be re-arranged for another time in the future. Wouldn't mind but not only had I managed to learn about half of the piece at that point but I was also practising saying 'Do you know who I am?' which I gather is a phrase all famous people have to use (because obviously this is just the start of my rise to stardom and my inevitable appointment as the new Doctor after Peter Capaldi.)

Naturally everyone is disappointed that we had to cancel at such a late hour but, my dear readers, we shall overcome and we shall prevail.

Watch this space.

Ta ta for now

Saturday 10 August 2013

Prisoner 1174 - a piece of flash fiction

Hello  my little reader friends,

Well, as you know, occasionally I like to put a little story on here to entertain you all even more than I normally do. I  know, I know, I really spoil you don't I?!

Well today I'm going to do it again. Now the thing is, its a piece of flash fiction. And more importantly the time time table for its construction went something like this:

6:30pm Friday (yesterday): Get random word from random word generator web-page thingy. The word was 'crown'.

8:30pm Friday (yesterday): Post finished story on fb critique group page.

Yes, my dear reader, what you are about to read took me all of two hours to write. It has not been altered, changed or edited since I put it on fb last night. So its rough.

Actually that gives me an idea... Maybe I should put the various drafts (if I ever do any)  of this piece on here.... hmmm.

Anyway here it is. You can comment if you like. You don't have to though

-----
Prisoner 1174’s eyes opened. He must have dozed off for a moment he realised. He tried to move his head forward before remembering the metal restraint around his neck. He wondered how long he had slept for. He was surprised that he slept at all; the space was hardly built for comfort. But then, why would it be? On a prison transport, he was being transferred to the penal colony on his world’s largest moon where he would spend the rest of his life digging in the mines for the rare ore that kept his planet’s defensive systems working. And how they needed it. The war had been going on for ten years with both sides’ resources being heavily depleted. A truce had been announced some eighteen months earlier when both sides had finally realised that a total victory would not be worth the cost it would take to achieve. Since then, a heightened cold war had been in place between the two neighbouring planets with each watching the other with eagle eyed sharpness. Just waiting for the other to blink first. To make the first aggressive act. To be the first to push the button and annihilate both civilisations.
He remembered the details of how he had been caught and he winced as he remembered the beating that caused him to eventually confess. He’d been set up by his brother in a petty act of spite and it had been made to look like he had killed his sister in law. Evidence had been planted his bedroom, reports fabricated with officials being paid off or made to ‘disappear’. All quick and easy. His head bowed as the fatigue caught up with him. Guess he hadn’t been asleep for too long after all. But then, when had he last slept properly? Two, three days? He remembered that time. Warm and comfortable in his own bed. Would he see that bed again?
The sound of boots on the metal floor alerted his to the presence of the guards. The clang of walkway as the heavy footed officer stomped his way down through the middle of the room. The walkway was raised so the guards could see all the prisoners. And give them a swift kick to the head if any got too mouthy.
“So scum, you’ll be pleased to hear we are about half way there”, the guard called out, his voice cold with malice. “Then you can be off this ship and be working for the good of the new king.”
“Fuck the king.” Said a voice in the crowd. Prisoner 1174 allowed himself the briefest of grins. The guard moved towards the prisoner who had spoken.
“Oh dear, oh dear, do we have a dissident in our ranks?” He asked. Another guard tutted and shook his head, a broad smile appearing on his face. “You should know the rules on this ship,” he continued, “you can only speak when you are permitted to do so. And then, insulting our new king is also strictly prohibited. I’m afraid the punishment is very clear”
The guard produced a small thin black rod from a compartment in the nearby wall. Pressing a button the rod extended to fifty centimetres in length. Another button was pressed and the tip began to glow a bright red. Prisoner 1174 closed his eyes as the red tip was pressed against the second mans chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air, the screams filling his mind. Eventually the cries were reduced to slight and muffle sob and the guard replaced the correction device back in the wall unit.
“Now”, the guard continued, “Let that be a lesson to you all. Shortly you will be briefed on what will happen when we arrive at the penal colony. But now, you’ll be pleased to hear, the king is about to make a live broadcast to his people. Rumour has it that it will be a rather special announcement.”
The lights dimmed as a view screen slid silently from the ceiling behind the guard and the smiling face of the world’s ruler appeared. Prisoner 1174 clenched his fist. The rest of the room knew him as the king. Prisoner 1174 knew him as his brother.

Saturday 3 August 2013

The play's the thing

Well hello my lovely reader friends, and welcome to my little part of the insanity that is known as the 'interweb thingy'.

*looks off camera*
What?
*another look off camera*
Sorry, the internet.

So what's been happening I hear you cry. Well, like it or not, I'm going to tell you.

Since I last imparted my little jewels of wisdom down to you I've been to see a couple of plays at the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre in Chester. Each time on a Saturday evening. I know, my little reader friends, not the forefront of what is hot as you would normally expect from me (being as I am, down wiv da kidz). But highly enjoyable none the less.

For the record, and in case anyone out there cares, they were 'Cyrano De Bergerac' and 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

Now, both were brilliant, but, if I had to choose one of the two, I would have to say that I preferred Cyrano. I don't know why. Guess it's just one of those things when one play has more of an impact than another. But both times I was sat there, in the covered terraces section (a choice that would prove to be a smart move during Midsummer when it was absolutely chucking it down durng the second half), watching the marvellous acting and wonderful script that was in front of me. I plan to do more in the coming years so long may the Grosvenor Park Open Air Theatre continue. Beats being inside watching tele all night or down in some loud, hot and sweaty night club in my opinion anyway. Which is probably why I ended up going on my own.

But the big news is that next week it's my turn to have their words spoken by actors.

Because I, along with four other writers are having their micro plays performed in a little room in a little building in Chester. Its a small start. But an exciting one and I'm glad to be a part of it. And who knows, as I think I've said before, from small acorns....

Ta ta for now.