Another small jump and then we're back in with the lead role
character being invented.
HUTCHBACK (CONT'D)
He... His... He didn't manage to
make the transition to
commercial... to totally commercial
film making, so... and he's had
this pet project for twenty-five
years, let's say, that...
DR. NOSTRUM
And is it good, or is it terrible?
HUTCHBACK
No! It's good...
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh, OK.
HUTCHBACK
... it's about how America lost
it's soul. How the, the, the
last... the counter... the reaction
to the counter-culture, from the
eighties onwards, has destroyed the
soul of America. So it's this very
pompous... but it's kind of a bit
like Tom Wolfe, if you roll up
things like Tom Wolfe, er, Bonfire
Of The Vanities and, kind of...
DR. NOSTRUM
So it's kind of like one of those
Orange Film Pitches?
HUTCHBACK
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, exactly.
DR. NOSTRUM
OK.
HUTCHBACK
He wants to make this very
serious... that's a good way to...
DR. NOSTRUM
Explain it to anyone in Britain.
HUTCHBACK
Yeah.
DR. NOSTRUM
I don't know if they run in
America, they might run in
America... So, but his project is
about (reading notes the Dr. has
been typing) how the reaction to
the counter-culture... no, I've got
this wring now, cos I don't know
anything about this, so, what is it
you were... the words were quite
good. I've recorded them though, I
suppose, so...
HUTCHBACK
His film is about the... how the...
the... the kind of commercial
reaction to the counter-culture of
the sixties led to the...
DR. NOSTRUM
Hold... Hold on!
HUTCHBACK
... death.
DR. NOSTRUM
Hold on, this is how you write, OK?
"The commercial..." what?
HUTCHBACK
The commercial...
DR. NOSTRUM
Or would you rather I just listened
to it over and over again and get
it as you said it?
HUTCHBACK
Yeah.
DR. NOSTRUM
OK. Fine.
HUTCHBACK
I can't remember what I said.
DR. NOSTRUM
No, I can't remember what you said
either. It's OK, his film is about
all this stuff that no one is
interested in...
HUTCHBACK
(laughing at the Dr's
banality)
That no one is interested in...
DR. NOSTRUM
... and he's been trying to pitch
it for twenty-five years.
HUTCHBACK
... and he's been trying to pitch
it for twenty-five years and in the
meantime has been making, kind
of... he has been making movies,
but they've been drying up and the
last ten years he's not made
anything. Cos clearly he was
trading on his reputation.
DR. NOSTRUM
OK.
Hutchback gets distracted by a moth.
HUTCHBACK
It's wierd the way that moths kind
of, when they die... a couple of
days after they're dead, they turn
into dust.
DR. NOSTRUM
See, this is... this to me, that's
how we write. Is that what we would
do is that. You're talking about
the show and then you just go off
on a tangent into something that,
you know, is actually what's going
on in the world. That's what I
like, that's what I think the show
should be.
HUTCHBACK
It's funny, cos I killed a moth
last night...
DR. NOSTRUM
Ah.
HUTCHBACK
... but I couldn't be bothered to
pick it up and I thought I'll leave
it till tomorrow, but then I left
it twenty four hours and it fucking
turned to dust.
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah, they do. Moth dust.
HUTCHBACK
The other thing... The other thing
I noticed was a spider that had
died...
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah, they go like that (making a
claw with his hand).
HUTCHBACK
No, no, no...
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh.
HUTCHBACK
... this one was particularly
bizarre because I tried to pick it
up and one of it's legs was stuck
in the carpet...
DR. NOSTRUM
(feeling sorry for it)
Aah.
HUTCHBACK
... so obviously what had happened,
it was walking along, it's leg got
caught...
DR. NOSTRUM
It got caught, and it starved to
death!
HUTCHBACK
(overlapping)
And it starved to death.
DR. NOSTRUM
Fuckin' hell.
HUTCHBACK
What a way to go, eh? Knowing.
DR. NOSTRUM
Knowing what?
HUTCHBACK
Knowing, that you were basically...
DR. NOSTRUM
But it doesn't know anything.
HUTCHBACK
... that that's it for you.
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh. Well, I'm not... yeah.
HUTCHBACK
That's it. That's it for you.
Although actually, most adult
insects never eat. A lot of them
never eat. Did you know that.
DR. NOSTRUM
No, I didn't know that.
HUTCHBACK
It's true. That the pupa...
DR. NOSTRUM
How does anyone know that?
HUTCHBACK
(incredulous)
What do you mean how does anyone
know that?
DR. NOSTRUM
I don't know, I mean...
HUTCHBACK
It's called fucking science, that's
how people know it! Jesus Christ!
DR. NOSTRUM
(defensively)
OK.
HUTCHBACK
How does anyone know that? How does
anyone know fucking anything?! Cos
they observe and they, you know,
make records...
DR. NOSTRUM
It just think it seems a pointless
experiments to watch insects...
HUTCHBACK
(overlapping, mocking)
Why? What? Oh, Biology: Pointless!
Biology: fucking get rid of it.
It's absolutely pointless, cos all
you're doing all day is fucking
looking at insects. What is the
point?! (Disbelieving) Fucking
hell. (Breathless pause) And you've
got an 'O' level.
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah, but... No, actually I don't
know if I did get the 'O' level.
HUTCHBACK
No. I got the 'O' level
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh, you got the 'O' level.
HUTCHBACK
(still disbelieving of the
Dr's stance)
What's the point?? Oh, I love it.
But, um, but, no, let me explain,
cos most...
this is important, this is adding
to your knowledge - Most insects,
they eat in the larval stage...
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh.
HUTCHBACK
... and then they come into the
adult stage and they breed,
although having said that, spiders
obviously do eat. Adult spiders do
eat, cos they're not insects.
DR. NOSTRUM
(not convinced)
Right.
HUTCHBACK
No, but clearly they catch things
and eat them.
DR. NOSTRUM
Well, I've seen that. But as you
point out, they're not insects.
HUTCHBACK
But. Moths. Adult moths don't eat.
I've learnt a lot about moths...
after my infestation. Did I tell
you about our moth infestation?
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah.
HUTCHBACK
Oh, yes, I did.
DR. NOSTRUM
Several times.
HUTCHBACK
Yeah. But now we're recording it...
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah, OK, tell me again.
HUTCHBACK
No, I don't need to tell you, but
we had a... there's actually
nothing funny about it, it's
quite... it's just disturbing:
coming back to a house covered in
moth larvae.
DR. NOSTRUM
How many were there? Carpet moths?
HUTCHBACK
Hundreds...
DR. NOSTRUM
(not impressed)
Oh, hundreds, well...
HUTCHBACK
... no, they were on the ceiling,
they were on the ceiling.
DR. NOSTRUM
(hopefully)
There might have been thousands?
HUTCHBACK
No, there weren't thousands, cos it
would have taken me a lot longer to
vacuum them all down... No, because
they...
DR. NOSTRUM
Why were larvae on the ceiling?
HUTCHBACK
No, because these ones, they're
trained to go up...
DR. NOSTRUM
Oh.
HUTCHBACK
To crawl up the...
DR. NOSTRUM
To get out the way of things that
might eat them on the ground I
suppose?
HUTCHBACK
Maybe, but...
DR. NOSTRUM
So they just keep going up?
HUTCHBACK
Well, no, they don't keep going up,
they go up and they look for the
corners.
DR. NOSTRUM
What?
HUTCHBACK
And I'm thinking, "How do they know
what a corner is?"
DR. NOSTRUM
Well...
HUTCHBACK
No...
DR. NOSTRUM
It's a point where you can't get
any further.
HUTCHBACK
But how does a larvae...
DR. NOSTRUM
You can't get any further, that's
the point, isn't it? Without going
like down and around?
HUTCHBACK
Yeah, well, I suppose so. Starts
chuckling) "You can't go any
further." That's how they base
their whole...
DR. NOSTRUM
Probably.
HUTCHBACK
It's just, keep crawling until you
can't go any further.
DR. NOSTRUM
Yeah. That's probably what it is.
HUTCHBACK
No, but I don't think they even
have that basic... I don't think
they even have that.
DR. NOSTRUM
Well, they've got something.
HUTCHBACK
(overlapping)
I bet they're just purely working
from gravity?
And they know which way's up and
which way's down and that's
probably about it.
DR. NOSTRUM
So, why... Well, anyway...
HUTCHBACK
Anyway.
DR. NOSTRUM
... they all end up in the corner,
so presumably, some people spend
their lives worrying about that?
Another pointless scientific
experiment, but anyway...
HUTCHBACK
Why have they gone for the corners?
DR. NOSTRUM
So? Are...
HUTCHBACK
We know that they go for the
corners so they can probably...
DR. NOSTRUM
... are there many corners in
nature?
HUTCHBACK
That's a very interesting point.
DR. NOSTRUM
There aren't really.
HUTCHBACK
You do get them, presumably, in
certain rock formations, (drifting
off in thought) but not in their
natural habitat I would have
thought.
DR. NOSTRUM
Do you think so? I wouldn't have
thought you get corners anywhere.
HUTCHBACK
You do in rocks.
DR. NOSTRUM
Well, not many.
HUTCHBACK
Not many...
DR. NOSTRUM
You know, so...
HUTCHBACK
... occasionally you get a corner.
The Hutchback has made it back to the kitchen.
HUTCHBACK (CONT'D)
OK. Do you want a large...?
DR. NOSTRUM
Tea. Yes, I'd like a tea. So,
somehow, moths have, moth larvae
have adapted to the human thing...
HUTCHBACK
Yes, of course.
DR. NOSTRUM
... by learning about corners.
HUTCHBACK
Yes.
DR. NOSTRUM
Any corner? It has to be a corner
up, rather than down or across? So
that's... That's how it happens
then, they just keep going up. What
they do is they go across, until
they can't go across anymore, then
they go along, till they can't go
along, and then they go up! That's
it! That's how it works. That must
be how it works, that's just three
things that have to be programmed.
HUTCHBACK
I wonder what their actual
perception of a corner is?
DR. NOSTRUM
No, but that would be... If you
were just programming a computer to
look for a corner that's how you
would do it.
It would just be "you go until you
can't go anymore and what you never
ever do, is you never go back on
yourself." And that means you would
always end up in a corner, right?
Like writing.
HUTCHBACK
But, you'd have thought it would be
better for them to go behind stuff?
DR. NOSTRUM
Well, they would...
HUTCHBACK
But it's harder.
DR. NOSTRUM
No, but they would go behind
stuff...
HUTCHBACK
No. That's harder.
DR. NOSTRUM
No it isn't. Because if you can get
behind it you're still moving, so
it's the same programming. It's the
same...
HUTCHBACK
No, say you've got, like, something
there (points to a picture on the
wall) along a wall, it's safer
behind something...
DR. NOSTRUM
But...
HUTCHBACK
... than exposed...
DR. NOSTRUM
... but they would be...
HUTCHBACK
... in a corner.
DR. NOSTRUM
... but they would be behind it.
HUTCHBACK
I can't believe what we're talking
about.
DR. NOSTRUM
Well, we'll just leave it. But I
would suggest that they would be
behind something. It's just natural
selection. So, the ones that manage
to make it behind something are
more likely to survive...
HUTCHBACK
(overlapping)
Are more likely to live.
DR. NOSTRUM
... thus, those ones...
HUTCHBACK
But, there aren't that many
corners...
DR. NOSTRUM
Behind things.
HUTCHBACK
... at the top that are behind
things.
DR. NOSTRUM
No.
HUTCHBACK
Because there's nothing, there's
just ceiling...
DR. NOSTRUM
That's true.
HUTCHBACK
So it would be better being in a
bottom corner...
DR. NOSTRUM
That's what I would have thought.
I'm surprised they were on the
ceiling. Why do you think they were
on the ceiling?
HUTCHBACK
They're fucking stupid, that's why,
they're fucking moth larvae.
DR. NOSTRUM
Biology. That's why we rule the
world and they don't.
HUTCHBACK
Yep. (Pause) So, where were we?
Showing posts with label Dr Nostrum Ponders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dr Nostrum Ponders. Show all posts
Thursday, 2 December 2010
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Drowned in Laze
A Tennessee summer in Nashville after a winter and floods unheard of in living memory and now the slow ooze of slippery heat leeches the will to stay sharp from The Doctor's Mind. Mrs. Doctor has been unable to suffer the stupidity by osmosis that is The South since we landed here, but your good Doctor has been faithfully fighting it off in an effort to be relevant to the modern world.
But it is relentless, the will in America to be bigger and cheaper, the rush to go backwards, as if they have left something worthwhile behind. There's a lot of room for comment and satire, but satire that is over the heads of those you satirize is a good way to get a punch on the nose for your smart ass opinions.
How do we drag the great white fat population with us when they need dragging? The Doctor and Hutchback are busy creating satirical Kargyraa, three voices at once. A big bass note of dumb, a winding middle voice of reality and a shrill top note of insanity.
But it is relentless, the will in America to be bigger and cheaper, the rush to go backwards, as if they have left something worthwhile behind. There's a lot of room for comment and satire, but satire that is over the heads of those you satirize is a good way to get a punch on the nose for your smart ass opinions.
How do we drag the great white fat population with us when they need dragging? The Doctor and Hutchback are busy creating satirical Kargyraa, three voices at once. A big bass note of dumb, a winding middle voice of reality and a shrill top note of insanity.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Paris Hilton - Fast Food Fame
Paris's BBF, yet more aspirants munching on the quim of celebrity.
It's pretty much beyond reviewing to any purpose as a television show; Paris makes folks do things for her and then judges them whilst they shake and cry because of course her opinion defines their universe.
Dr. Nostrum can't help remembering the callous spoiled joy with which Nicole and her ruined a day's business for a random blue collar family one episode of The Simple Life. Yes, I'm sure they compensated them financially, yes, that was the show, no, it didn't matter.
There's no joy here, no point, purpose or permanence, and nothing positive that starts with any other letter of the alphabet either.
I know why it's on and I even think I know why it's popular. She is the living Celebrity Embodiment of Fast Food. The McDonalds of Reality TV. Everything you can think of about The Big Mac is true for Paris.
Paris Hilton. More famous than Paris France. What does that say about Google searches?
Be my BFF Paris! ;-) Everything you touch turns to gold.
(do you really think so?)
It's pretty much beyond reviewing to any purpose as a television show; Paris makes folks do things for her and then judges them whilst they shake and cry because of course her opinion defines their universe.
Dr. Nostrum can't help remembering the callous spoiled joy with which Nicole and her ruined a day's business for a random blue collar family one episode of The Simple Life. Yes, I'm sure they compensated them financially, yes, that was the show, no, it didn't matter.
There's no joy here, no point, purpose or permanence, and nothing positive that starts with any other letter of the alphabet either.
I know why it's on and I even think I know why it's popular. She is the living Celebrity Embodiment of Fast Food. The McDonalds of Reality TV. Everything you can think of about The Big Mac is true for Paris.
Paris Hilton. More famous than Paris France. What does that say about Google searches?
Be my BFF Paris! ;-) Everything you touch turns to gold.
(do you really think so?)
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Jade Goody Media Martyr - Cashing In On Death
Can you believe it, a serious article from Dr. Nostrum as I take a moment to reflect on a recurring nightmare.
Though we are no closer to finding a meaning for Jade Goody's life, in one of the clearest predictions of 2009 (and yes, foul and cynical as I am, hopefully beyond) there will be a long examination for the meaning of her death and it's place as 'Entertainment' on our screens.
(cue bubbly airhead teen voice over) 'Read all about brave Jade's losing battle with Cancer and get 20 great Credit Crunch Cancer beating looks! Only in this week's edition of Uber-Voyeur, only £1.20 at all good Newsagents!'
I really don't think I will. In fact I know I can't. So I will become one of those hated commentators (surely - 'contentators') that pontificate on the morals of this most exquisite hell of an exploitation at a distance. You see, I'm not interested in the minutiae of Jade's serialised death throe, but then, I don't like Slasher films or Grand Theft Auto so I probably exist in a tiny vacuum. No, more than not interested; phobic.
There isn't a simultaneously less important yet more vicarious life and all it's for is so we can enjoy our pity and scorn at a scripted reality the Truman Show would've junked as unbelievable.
Look, there is a regular lighter and crueler side to Dr. Nostrum's Jade jibes and yes, saving her skin is a reasonable charitable enterprise so it can be pegged out and displayed as a lesson to all those who seek fame for fame's sake, but something has clearly gone wrong and not only in my brain.
There must be a point at which we recognise our Nero's fiddling as Rome burns. I humbly submit that serialising, trivialising and repackaging the slow death of a young, questionably smart, woman into a Television Reality Soap and glib Trashazine Hooks for the financial benefit of the Media well beyond the financial benefit to her family is one of those markers.
I don't have any morals up here in the cloud, because it's all make believe, but you down there...
Though we are no closer to finding a meaning for Jade Goody's life, in one of the clearest predictions of 2009 (and yes, foul and cynical as I am, hopefully beyond) there will be a long examination for the meaning of her death and it's place as 'Entertainment' on our screens.
(cue bubbly airhead teen voice over) 'Read all about brave Jade's losing battle with Cancer and get 20 great Credit Crunch Cancer beating looks! Only in this week's edition of Uber-Voyeur, only £1.20 at all good Newsagents!'
I really don't think I will. In fact I know I can't. So I will become one of those hated commentators (surely - 'contentators') that pontificate on the morals of this most exquisite hell of an exploitation at a distance. You see, I'm not interested in the minutiae of Jade's serialised death throe, but then, I don't like Slasher films or Grand Theft Auto so I probably exist in a tiny vacuum. No, more than not interested; phobic.
There isn't a simultaneously less important yet more vicarious life and all it's for is so we can enjoy our pity and scorn at a scripted reality the Truman Show would've junked as unbelievable.
Look, there is a regular lighter and crueler side to Dr. Nostrum's Jade jibes and yes, saving her skin is a reasonable charitable enterprise so it can be pegged out and displayed as a lesson to all those who seek fame for fame's sake, but something has clearly gone wrong and not only in my brain.
There must be a point at which we recognise our Nero's fiddling as Rome burns. I humbly submit that serialising, trivialising and repackaging the slow death of a young, questionably smart, woman into a Television Reality Soap and glib Trashazine Hooks for the financial benefit of the Media well beyond the financial benefit to her family is one of those markers.
I don't have any morals up here in the cloud, because it's all make believe, but you down there...
Friday, 30 January 2009
I Don't Want To Work For Diddy
Dr. Nostrum has been tuning in occasionally to I Want To Work For Diddy. Now, I never really wanted to see this, but was wooed by the diddy blogs into a false sense of optimism (but note that there's no diddy blog celebrating the win - I guess the Democrats didn't pay for that one). In fact it was quite hard to watch it a very real sense because it disappeared from one channel after just a few episodes and I haven't had the discipline to keep track of what episode airs when on MTV.
But, of course, having seen it for a few seconds, I have seen it all. Formula stuff, with a vaguely cheap and hugely self important tone from the 'playa's'. Obnoxious and unpleasant ego masquerading as successful and aspirational business acumen - maybe these have always been the same thing.
There was a fabulous highlight with Diddy explaining how far he could achieve anything he set his mind to, which I wish I could find to print verbatim but somehow I have it imprinted on my memory as a dream inspired rant culminating in Puff riding a giraffe bareback and naked in Zimbabwe, that, strangely, being the task he wanted to achieve.
Don't let the highlight fool you though, it's the usual misfits being humiliated into obescience.
I think it is time for the series 'I Don't Want To Work For Diddy' in which every member of the human race bar 20 publicity obsessed lunatics go about their normal life completely bemused by the fact that some people want to debase themselves daily at the whim of egomaniacal celebrities for money and a seat in a muddy trench at the foot of fame.
I see many such programmes ahead, including the Paul McKenna inspired 'I Can't Make You Thin' and 'I Can't Make Him Stop', 'The Price Is Wrong', hosted by Jordan, 'Who Doesn't Want To Be A Millionaire?' and so on. Perhaps we could just make one programme that lasts all day called 'Why?' although to keep it Yoof perhaps just 'Y?
In 'Y?' we, the public, use Torquemada's technique of having TV execs spin out the premise of a story interesting enough to prevent themselves being dropped into a pot of burning pitch.
I'd probably watch it for 10 minutes before turning over to 'My New BFF'
But, of course, having seen it for a few seconds, I have seen it all. Formula stuff, with a vaguely cheap and hugely self important tone from the 'playa's'. Obnoxious and unpleasant ego masquerading as successful and aspirational business acumen - maybe these have always been the same thing.
There was a fabulous highlight with Diddy explaining how far he could achieve anything he set his mind to, which I wish I could find to print verbatim but somehow I have it imprinted on my memory as a dream inspired rant culminating in Puff riding a giraffe bareback and naked in Zimbabwe, that, strangely, being the task he wanted to achieve.
Don't let the highlight fool you though, it's the usual misfits being humiliated into obescience.
I think it is time for the series 'I Don't Want To Work For Diddy' in which every member of the human race bar 20 publicity obsessed lunatics go about their normal life completely bemused by the fact that some people want to debase themselves daily at the whim of egomaniacal celebrities for money and a seat in a muddy trench at the foot of fame.
I see many such programmes ahead, including the Paul McKenna inspired 'I Can't Make You Thin' and 'I Can't Make Him Stop', 'The Price Is Wrong', hosted by Jordan, 'Who Doesn't Want To Be A Millionaire?' and so on. Perhaps we could just make one programme that lasts all day called 'Why?' although to keep it Yoof perhaps just 'Y?
In 'Y?' we, the public, use Torquemada's technique of having TV execs spin out the premise of a story interesting enough to prevent themselves being dropped into a pot of burning pitch.
I'd probably watch it for 10 minutes before turning over to 'My New BFF'
Monday, 26 January 2009
Trans Gender Agenda for Tyrant
And so begins another series on the relentless hagiography that is the America's Top Model conveyor belt. Dr. Nostrum has often said that before she's in the grave every girl in America will be able to say Tyrant belittled her on National TV. In the UK we stay resolutely just behind, as we do with all things American since the 50's, so this is cycle 11.
We're put straight as to the purpose of the show from the get go. The entirely predictable system overload for the glaminator machine "to make better models" must mean Tyrant Tyra Banks is inside, cos no way can she pass up a chance to show us Tyrant is as good as it gets. (This is the point of the show - there, now I've told you the scales will have fallen from your eyes forever more) She seems to have some top lip issues today, with a smeared and shiny barracuda pout to the fore and oddly, they seem to have based the beginning of the show on The Tomorrow People, but i can't believe any of them have seen it. She also has some thunder-thigh issues too, I doubt they'd seem so on a normal woman, but on Tyrant they stand as two thumping revolutionary insurgents despoiling the landscape that is Doriana Gray, still a good looking woman, but one who has lost every shred of inner beauty.
Last Series was Plus Size, this series is Trans Gender. Now, have no doubt, the contestant may not have an agenda but The Show does. "What would being a part of this show do for the Gay and Lesbian community?" asks Tyrant, and the answer; it will increase the profile of Tyra Banks.
We're put straight as to the purpose of the show from the get go. The entirely predictable system overload for the glaminator machine "to make better models" must mean Tyrant Tyra Banks is inside, cos no way can she pass up a chance to show us Tyrant is as good as it gets. (This is the point of the show - there, now I've told you the scales will have fallen from your eyes forever more) She seems to have some top lip issues today, with a smeared and shiny barracuda pout to the fore and oddly, they seem to have based the beginning of the show on The Tomorrow People, but i can't believe any of them have seen it. She also has some thunder-thigh issues too, I doubt they'd seem so on a normal woman, but on Tyrant they stand as two thumping revolutionary insurgents despoiling the landscape that is Doriana Gray, still a good looking woman, but one who has lost every shred of inner beauty.
Last Series was Plus Size, this series is Trans Gender. Now, have no doubt, the contestant may not have an agenda but The Show does. "What would being a part of this show do for the Gay and Lesbian community?" asks Tyrant, and the answer; it will increase the profile of Tyra Banks.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Mutya Marginalises Midgets
Dr. Nostrum was delighted to hear Mutya Buena (Sugarbabes) nominate Verne Troyer for eviction in UK Celebrity Big Brother because she feels uncomfortable around midgets. Despite her best efforts, cracks in her thus far peerless demeanor are beginning to show. Meanwhile, Tina Malone seems to be resembling a shaved Silverback more and more as the days pass, it was edifying to see her bite her toenails and a blessed relief that she wasn't naked at the time, I fear television sets across the country may have cracked.
Celebrity Big Brother Annual Attempt At Michael Jackson Misses Again
Dr. Nostrum can see through the casting as another attempt to lure Michael Jackson into the house falls narrowly wide as they shoot and hit Latoya - who I have been calling Janet most of the week.
It's not a good cast really, lit up wonderfully by Coolio, who is both an annoying asshole and a dead eyed killer, although another dead eyed killer was missed in the Paparazzi task this week as he was hoisted over the wall on a crane. Perhaps if they had used Iranian crane hoisting methods Barrymore would have been spotted? In one of the ad breaks he scarily appeared behind whoever it is that is deadpanning for the Big Mouth bit that I have never seen "Look Out! Look Out!" I screamed at the television. "Look out or you'll end up raped and found dead in a swimming pool!" but the guy never turned round.
Meanwhile back on the main show; Mutya and Tina have been lounging around in the big ashtray like two bored and tired hookers bemused at their inclusion, Ben and Michelle are ex-pop starring and boring us; Terry seemingly couldn't find an elderly gentleman to bend over for, he acts as if he's waiting for Alan Bennett (who Dr. Nostrum has been writing country music with periodically over the last year); Verne plays the Aahh toy for female viewers - no sign yet of the vicious ankle biter the press has made him; Ulrika and Latoya compete for whose face will sag last, both faces are clearly slowly heading south after having been pumped and frozen just before going in, but whose injections will prove to be the strongest? - It's one of the more interesting reasons to stay tuned. In the Scottish politician category, Tommy doesn't have the Galloway ego but though he does a passable Marcel Marceau impression in a leotard, Galloway has him (and most of the planet) beat in that department too. Lucy has gone, she was there to do what?? Another Tit models who wants us to know she's more than a Tit model so she can do non Tit model work. And lastly Coolio plays them all as the Big Brother Nero, but Latoya the least, watching them together is a real life "Love is..." Janet bats her eyelids as her night in shining armour boldly goes into battle to piss off the unknown English 'talent' and bring her back their broken spirits.
Coolio to win - driving out on Verne's car.
I believe Hutchback has a different take.
It's not a good cast really, lit up wonderfully by Coolio, who is both an annoying asshole and a dead eyed killer, although another dead eyed killer was missed in the Paparazzi task this week as he was hoisted over the wall on a crane. Perhaps if they had used Iranian crane hoisting methods Barrymore would have been spotted? In one of the ad breaks he scarily appeared behind whoever it is that is deadpanning for the Big Mouth bit that I have never seen "Look Out! Look Out!" I screamed at the television. "Look out or you'll end up raped and found dead in a swimming pool!" but the guy never turned round.
Meanwhile back on the main show; Mutya and Tina have been lounging around in the big ashtray like two bored and tired hookers bemused at their inclusion, Ben and Michelle are ex-pop starring and boring us; Terry seemingly couldn't find an elderly gentleman to bend over for, he acts as if he's waiting for Alan Bennett (who Dr. Nostrum has been writing country music with periodically over the last year); Verne plays the Aahh toy for female viewers - no sign yet of the vicious ankle biter the press has made him; Ulrika and Latoya compete for whose face will sag last, both faces are clearly slowly heading south after having been pumped and frozen just before going in, but whose injections will prove to be the strongest? - It's one of the more interesting reasons to stay tuned. In the Scottish politician category, Tommy doesn't have the Galloway ego but though he does a passable Marcel Marceau impression in a leotard, Galloway has him (and most of the planet) beat in that department too. Lucy has gone, she was there to do what?? Another Tit models who wants us to know she's more than a Tit model so she can do non Tit model work. And lastly Coolio plays them all as the Big Brother Nero, but Latoya the least, watching them together is a real life "Love is..." Janet bats her eyelids as her night in shining armour boldly goes into battle to piss off the unknown English 'talent' and bring her back their broken spirits.
Coolio to win - driving out on Verne's car.
I believe Hutchback has a different take.
Suicidal? We Need You!
A warm invitation in the ad break on Big Bro this evening (and others no doubt) "Become a Teacher, you can earn £20 thousand a year - and the banter's not bad either." They've cut to the nub of the education issue in one blind stab. Unless it was in a subliminal message there was no mention at all about educating children, nothing, nada. Just a shot of some poncy X factor reject slouching back on a chair as kids walked into a room (The Doctor thought he was one of the students) and one of the kids teasing him about a football result - dialogue free acting well scripted for it's simplicity, even having the sleight of hand to make me realise that the teacher is not some old dodderer, but probably a student not long ago and not as remote from the class as teachers once were. But the voice over was a coup de grace. Succinct and to the point. Who gives a fuck about anything but money and pissing about? And they can apply it to nearly any profession - You can earn £20 grand a year and the banter's not bad either; Dustmen; Builder; Prison Officer; Magician and I would have said Prositute but the pay's too low.
There was an ad, from what must have been the same agency, posted on bus shelters not too long ago. I didn't last long but it too fell on a profound truth "No Job, No Income, No Prospect - Join The Army" Now that's a great ad! They could have gone further I believe but I wasn't in on the copy - "Suicidally Depressed? - Join The Army, we'll kill yourself for you."
There was an ad, from what must have been the same agency, posted on bus shelters not too long ago. I didn't last long but it too fell on a profound truth "No Job, No Income, No Prospect - Join The Army" Now that's a great ad! They could have gone further I believe but I wasn't in on the copy - "Suicidally Depressed? - Join The Army, we'll kill yourself for you."
Dr Nostrum’s Fuck You Paul McKenna Second Portion Blues
I have been tuning in to I CAN MAKE YOU THIN with Paul McKenna. Is it just me or does watching this programme make you hungry?
Somewhere in the last five years Paul McKenna has become a TV Carpet Salesman, and fulfills the American generic by talking loudly and over-excitedly, over-emoting whenever possible. It looks like pastiche, but I believe he has brainwashed himself into believing this is how you present American TV. What he's doing, of course, was invented by my great grand-daddy, who used to sell the family potion off the back of wagons.
There are several staggering contradictions in this program's hour that just will not go away, along with the pervading sense of cheapness that riddles the broadcast, plastered in to the UK schedule lock, stock and barrel off the American airwaves.
The most annoying of these is the near constant reminder from Paul that this is not one of those shows where we (the TV audience) watch other people get thin, immediately followed by introducing us to other people who have lost weight or who we are going to be following losing weight across the series. He does this so many times I can only conclude that he will soon be running for Prime Minister. But anyway, everyone we meet who has lost weight "LOOKS GREAT!!"
The second is down to automaton scheduled advertising where we get Diets sold to us in the ad breaks straight after Paul tells us Diets don't work. I mean you have to be tuning in to Paul McKenna on purpose, right, or at least stick with it on purpose, so whatever demographic it is that the automatons think would purchase one of these Diet products, I'd like to meet them and sell them George Bush's soul - you can keep it in your pocket and use it like worry beads.
There is a grain of usefulness in the show misapplied if it does what it says on the tin. It is a 'not a distraction technique' to help you stabilise the emotions that make you eat when you don't want to, in audience tests it reduces the craving to eat when in an highly emotional state from a 10 to 0. I tried doing it with him, but found it very distracting and couldn't follow what he was showing me. BUT, if this works, what are they doing using it on over-eaters? This should be used on murderers, rapist, paedophiles and genocidists. If only Stalin had sat in the Kremlin and tapped himself calm...
The last contradiction is the clincher, and, properly, it comes first because it's the legal disclaimer that's read out in American blandese ahead of the show and shown for a few seconds at the end. It includes the truths that "results will vary" and that "the program is for entertainment only".
Read that again, because it defines Paul McKenna; entertainment from misery.
So there we have it, another programme that tells people who have forgotten how to behave, how to behave - you know - like religion.
As it was he's making me miserable because being one of those 'naturally thin' people he keeps mentioning (that is, when I don't over-eat for ages or exercise for weeks) I never worry about food, so there I was tucking into my FUCK YOU Paul McKenna second portion when I started chewing my food 20 times and thinking about whether I was full. I couldn't clean my plate and this immediately brought on strong feelings of annoyance and guilt at having watched the Paul McKenna show and subsequently wasting my hard earned on food I was about to throw in the bin.
This life is for entertainment purposes only.
Somewhere in the last five years Paul McKenna has become a TV Carpet Salesman, and fulfills the American generic by talking loudly and over-excitedly, over-emoting whenever possible. It looks like pastiche, but I believe he has brainwashed himself into believing this is how you present American TV. What he's doing, of course, was invented by my great grand-daddy, who used to sell the family potion off the back of wagons.
There are several staggering contradictions in this program's hour that just will not go away, along with the pervading sense of cheapness that riddles the broadcast, plastered in to the UK schedule lock, stock and barrel off the American airwaves.
The most annoying of these is the near constant reminder from Paul that this is not one of those shows where we (the TV audience) watch other people get thin, immediately followed by introducing us to other people who have lost weight or who we are going to be following losing weight across the series. He does this so many times I can only conclude that he will soon be running for Prime Minister. But anyway, everyone we meet who has lost weight "LOOKS GREAT!!"
The second is down to automaton scheduled advertising where we get Diets sold to us in the ad breaks straight after Paul tells us Diets don't work. I mean you have to be tuning in to Paul McKenna on purpose, right, or at least stick with it on purpose, so whatever demographic it is that the automatons think would purchase one of these Diet products, I'd like to meet them and sell them George Bush's soul - you can keep it in your pocket and use it like worry beads.
There is a grain of usefulness in the show misapplied if it does what it says on the tin. It is a 'not a distraction technique' to help you stabilise the emotions that make you eat when you don't want to, in audience tests it reduces the craving to eat when in an highly emotional state from a 10 to 0. I tried doing it with him, but found it very distracting and couldn't follow what he was showing me. BUT, if this works, what are they doing using it on over-eaters? This should be used on murderers, rapist, paedophiles and genocidists. If only Stalin had sat in the Kremlin and tapped himself calm...
The last contradiction is the clincher, and, properly, it comes first because it's the legal disclaimer that's read out in American blandese ahead of the show and shown for a few seconds at the end. It includes the truths that "results will vary" and that "the program is for entertainment only".
Read that again, because it defines Paul McKenna; entertainment from misery.
So there we have it, another programme that tells people who have forgotten how to behave, how to behave - you know - like religion.
As it was he's making me miserable because being one of those 'naturally thin' people he keeps mentioning (that is, when I don't over-eat for ages or exercise for weeks) I never worry about food, so there I was tucking into my FUCK YOU Paul McKenna second portion when I started chewing my food 20 times and thinking about whether I was full. I couldn't clean my plate and this immediately brought on strong feelings of annoyance and guilt at having watched the Paul McKenna show and subsequently wasting my hard earned on food I was about to throw in the bin.
This life is for entertainment purposes only.
The History of The U.S. U.K. Gallon discrepancy.
It was none other than Frederick Bean (Tex) Avery, the creator of Daffy Duck, Droopy and Mickey Mantle, that prompted the creation of the small U.S. gallon.
Dr Nostrum recalls fondly the free-wheelin' wind up the skirts holiday with Tex and J Edgar Hoover that caused the final parting of the ways with the Mother country. Neither Tex nor J Edgar liked Fred Quimby much, so he never came along.
J Edgar had been in one of his Texan phases, really for the benefit of Tex, who was the ideal man to lap it all up. On one of the lazier afternoon's J Edgar was sauntering around in his 8.32 Gallon Hat, waving it at all and sundry and flashing a bit of leg. Getting no response, Tex felt the need to big J Edgar up and began insisting that he was a bigger man than an 8.3, and that J Edgar was a 10 all the way in his eyes. And any man that's a 10 should be wearing a 10 gallon hat.
Unfortunately the 10 gallon hat was too big for J Edgar and thus the 8.3 was renamed. The measurement system soon followed with J Edgar reasoning that there was a great psychological benefit to all Americans of being able to say that they could fill up anything with more gallons than their European competitors could for the same amount of work.
Dr Nostrum recalls fondly the free-wheelin' wind up the skirts holiday with Tex and J Edgar Hoover that caused the final parting of the ways with the Mother country. Neither Tex nor J Edgar liked Fred Quimby much, so he never came along.
J Edgar had been in one of his Texan phases, really for the benefit of Tex, who was the ideal man to lap it all up. On one of the lazier afternoon's J Edgar was sauntering around in his 8.32 Gallon Hat, waving it at all and sundry and flashing a bit of leg. Getting no response, Tex felt the need to big J Edgar up and began insisting that he was a bigger man than an 8.3, and that J Edgar was a 10 all the way in his eyes. And any man that's a 10 should be wearing a 10 gallon hat.
Unfortunately the 10 gallon hat was too big for J Edgar and thus the 8.3 was renamed. The measurement system soon followed with J Edgar reasoning that there was a great psychological benefit to all Americans of being able to say that they could fill up anything with more gallons than their European competitors could for the same amount of work.
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This - End Gazza Bombing Shreiks Lennox
Dr. Nostrum can today clear up several press errors after first hand news. Former Eurythmics frontman and ex-world heavyweight champion Lennox Lewis today urged Israel to end the bombing of ex-everything footballer Paul (Gazza) Gascoigne. Lewis claims to represent much of the boxing pop star world who, he says, are united in condemnation of "Israel's repeated interventions into Gazza, which have driven the poor man to near insanity, exacerbated by his being forced to carry round two ex-Mossad plastic ducks against his will wherever he goes." Lennox continued on in this vein until I fell asleep.
Meanwhile Israel continued to protect itself whilst simultaneously enhancing World peace prospects with surgical strikes in the worlds press, carefully targeted to avoid collateral opinions.
Dr. Nostrum says, these nations have been throwing rocks at each other for 5000 years so don't expect them to stop anytime soon.
Meanwhile Israel continued to protect itself whilst simultaneously enhancing World peace prospects with surgical strikes in the worlds press, carefully targeted to avoid collateral opinions.
Dr. Nostrum says, these nations have been throwing rocks at each other for 5000 years so don't expect them to stop anytime soon.
Thank You Clint, For The Beautiful Sleep
Dr. Nostrum has only had two truly deep sleeps in the last 13 years. Both were brought on by watching The Bridges Of Madison County. I can't say what it is for certain, but no more powerful soporific has entered my life.
The first sleep was inopportune, at the time I thought it had badly coloured a prospective romance with a small dark hairy girl. As it was I moved swiftly into a romance with a taller dark and though I think less genetically hairy, still a fairly hairy girl, if not controlled. It was somewhere near a first date - The Bridges Of Madison County - a winning film to show my caring side. I remember the Screen on The Green cinema, and the girl - the small one, and I think the film started, but then, nothing but the deepest sleep and I'm not sure I came out of it fully until the next day. I certainly don't remember taking her home.
13 years later and this time it was simply a random flick through the channel guide which brought me the chance to see what I had missed. I got as far as a note stuck on the side of a bridge, though I was already distracted and had started playing the guitar, but sometime soon after that I felt the deep need to go and lie down. I slept for 18 hours.
If there are any (presumably male) readers in desperate need of a cure for insomnia, you'd do worse than go out and buy the Blu-ray. That's a Dr's recommendation, remember.
The first sleep was inopportune, at the time I thought it had badly coloured a prospective romance with a small dark hairy girl. As it was I moved swiftly into a romance with a taller dark and though I think less genetically hairy, still a fairly hairy girl, if not controlled. It was somewhere near a first date - The Bridges Of Madison County - a winning film to show my caring side. I remember the Screen on The Green cinema, and the girl - the small one, and I think the film started, but then, nothing but the deepest sleep and I'm not sure I came out of it fully until the next day. I certainly don't remember taking her home.
13 years later and this time it was simply a random flick through the channel guide which brought me the chance to see what I had missed. I got as far as a note stuck on the side of a bridge, though I was already distracted and had started playing the guitar, but sometime soon after that I felt the deep need to go and lie down. I slept for 18 hours.
If there are any (presumably male) readers in desperate need of a cure for insomnia, you'd do worse than go out and buy the Blu-ray. That's a Dr's recommendation, remember.
The Missing Fat Duck Recipes - Crispy Fried Cow Calamari with Dolphin Penis Bone Marrow Cubes
I have been leafing through that byword of the quick fix snack, The Fat Duck Cookbook (handily sized). But, knowing Heston as I don't I was surprised that some of the key recipes were missing from the hastily prepared tome. Dr. Nostrum will fill in the blanks over the coming months.
First, that crunchy peaen to cross species sodomy: Cow Calamari with Dolphin Penis Bone Marrow Cubes. I was remembering this dish just the other month across a table with the lovable soul singer Seal.
Just a note to say that Heston would never catch a Dolphin just for it's Penis Bone, he specifically only uses Dolphin accidentally killed in Tuna nets.
For the Cow Calamari
300g kobe rectum
50g table salt
500g water
Place the water in a container, add the salt and stir until dissolved. Refrigerate until cold, then add the rectum and refrigerate for 4 hours. Soak the rectum in changes of cold water for 2 hours. Preheat a water bath to 65 degrees C/149 degrees F. Seal the rectum in a sous-vide bag under full pressure for 2 hours. Remove and leave to stand at room temperature for 15 minutes. Transfer to room-temperature water for a further 15 minutes, then place in an ice bath to chill. Once cold, remove the rectum from the bag and peel away the membrane. Cut across the rectum creating O-shaped slices of 3-4mm width and place in a container in a single layer. Cover and refrigerate until needed.
For the Penis Bone Marrow
500g (one) Dolphin Penis inc Bone
150g table salt approx
Fillet the Penis and skin each fillet, trimming away any dark flesh, blood or cartilage, reserve the flesh. Taking the bone, using a heavy cleaver cut the bone first into halves and second, cut one of the halves into 5cm pieces. Cover the penis bones with cold salted water (50g salt for every 1kg water) and refrigerate for 24hrs, changing the water every 4 hours. Soak the bones in several changes of cold water for 30 minutes. Push the marrow out of the bones and place on kitchen paper to dry. Cut into cubes 7mm square and refrigerate until needed.
For the Crispy Fried Cow Calamari and Penis Marrow Bone Cubes
100g panko breadcrumbs
2 eggs
groundnut oil
grapeseed oil
reserved Penis Marrow bone cubes
reserved Cow Calamari
reserved half of Dolphin Penis Bone
0.5g chervil pluches
0.5g tarragon leaves
0.5g chives
0.5g flatleaf parsley leaves
Place the panko breadcrumbs in a large bowl. Whisk the eggs and 25g water in another bowl. Heat the oil in a deep-fat fryer to 180 degrees C/350 degrees F. Dip the Cow Calamari in the egg wash, shake off the excess and dredge in the panko, pressing the crumbs on to the outside. Set aside, then do the same with the Penis Bone Marrow Cubes. Cook batches of the Calamari in the fryer till golden brown all over. Drain on kitchen paper and season lightly with salt and freshly ground pepper. Heat some grapeseed oil in a shallow pan and fry 5 pieces of coated bone marrow per portion until crisp and golden. Drain them on kitchen paper and sprinkle salt over them. Cut the reserved Penis bone into lengths of 14cm using a fine junior hacksaw, wash to remove bone dust.
Using the Penis Bone lengths as a skewer for the Cow Calamari (not the Penis Bone Marrow - which separates the rings), serve 6 pieces of Cow Calamari per portion and the 5 pieces and Penis Bone Marrow Cube alternately laid on a paper-lined serving plate. Garnish with the crispy chervil leaves. At the last possible moment finely slice, rather than chop, the fresh herbs (to avoid damaging them with random cuts) and sprinkle over the skewer.
First, that crunchy peaen to cross species sodomy: Cow Calamari with Dolphin Penis Bone Marrow Cubes. I was remembering this dish just the other month across a table with the lovable soul singer Seal.
Just a note to say that Heston would never catch a Dolphin just for it's Penis Bone, he specifically only uses Dolphin accidentally killed in Tuna nets.
For the Cow Calamari
300g kobe rectum
50g table salt
500g water
Place the water in a container, add the salt and stir until dissolved. Refrigerate until cold, then add the rectum and refrigerate for 4 hours. Soak the rectum in changes of cold water for 2 hours. Preheat a water bath to 65 degrees C/149 degrees F. Seal the rectum in a sous-vide bag under full pressure for 2 hours. Remove and leave to stand at room temperature for 15 minutes. Transfer to room-temperature water for a further 15 minutes, then place in an ice bath to chill. Once cold, remove the rectum from the bag and peel away the membrane. Cut across the rectum creating O-shaped slices of 3-4mm width and place in a container in a single layer. Cover and refrigerate until needed.
For the Penis Bone Marrow
500g (one) Dolphin Penis inc Bone
150g table salt approx
Fillet the Penis and skin each fillet, trimming away any dark flesh, blood or cartilage, reserve the flesh. Taking the bone, using a heavy cleaver cut the bone first into halves and second, cut one of the halves into 5cm pieces. Cover the penis bones with cold salted water (50g salt for every 1kg water) and refrigerate for 24hrs, changing the water every 4 hours. Soak the bones in several changes of cold water for 30 minutes. Push the marrow out of the bones and place on kitchen paper to dry. Cut into cubes 7mm square and refrigerate until needed.
For the Crispy Fried Cow Calamari and Penis Marrow Bone Cubes
100g panko breadcrumbs
2 eggs
groundnut oil
grapeseed oil
reserved Penis Marrow bone cubes
reserved Cow Calamari
reserved half of Dolphin Penis Bone
0.5g chervil pluches
0.5g tarragon leaves
0.5g chives
0.5g flatleaf parsley leaves
Place the panko breadcrumbs in a large bowl. Whisk the eggs and 25g water in another bowl. Heat the oil in a deep-fat fryer to 180 degrees C/350 degrees F. Dip the Cow Calamari in the egg wash, shake off the excess and dredge in the panko, pressing the crumbs on to the outside. Set aside, then do the same with the Penis Bone Marrow Cubes. Cook batches of the Calamari in the fryer till golden brown all over. Drain on kitchen paper and season lightly with salt and freshly ground pepper. Heat some grapeseed oil in a shallow pan and fry 5 pieces of coated bone marrow per portion until crisp and golden. Drain them on kitchen paper and sprinkle salt over them. Cut the reserved Penis bone into lengths of 14cm using a fine junior hacksaw, wash to remove bone dust.
Using the Penis Bone lengths as a skewer for the Cow Calamari (not the Penis Bone Marrow - which separates the rings), serve 6 pieces of Cow Calamari per portion and the 5 pieces and Penis Bone Marrow Cube alternately laid on a paper-lined serving plate. Garnish with the crispy chervil leaves. At the last possible moment finely slice, rather than chop, the fresh herbs (to avoid damaging them with random cuts) and sprinkle over the skewer.
I’m A Celebrity, Get Me In Her.
Alas poor Kilroy, he was chucked off backwards. Dr Nostrum has booked a New Years Break at the I'm A 'Celebrity' Get Me Out Of Here camp for me and M in the New Year. I had often wondered and recently confirmed that the site is a Year round venue where as many different Nationalities are shoed in as possible, but between Sweden and Eritrea, M and I have a chance to get away from it all.
The package includes a few of the choice Bushtucker Trials - Sucking off a Wombat, Dry Cleaning a Crocodile and Shitting into Anthony McPartlins mouth from a high branch - once much favoured by the Plastic Duck carrying Derelict who we all knew as Gazza, now, a broken, shadowy soul almost as physically feeble as shrunken Ben Gazzara.
Although we do get interviewed periodically, fortunately there's no-one to really vote us off, although if you wanted to call in - +448445-930-616(1) for the Dr. -616(2) for M - the money goes to a cause of our choice. Namely, preserving the skin of Jade Goody, which is a long cherished project of the Dr's, as some of you may be aware, soon to be seen as a series on Living (proceeds less costs and profit to her children). She'll go on the Lounge wall next to Des O'Connor, but may require a slightly larger board to be pegged out on.
Still, to keep us happy there is a sham eviction each morning, where we have hired Robert Kilroy Silk to be voted off each day. He does though have to be kept in the manner he expects between daily takes, so we also have Fatima Siad in for him to split each morning, after which he gets to personally re-circumcise her in readiness to split her the following day, etc. Fatima seems reasonably Ok with this arrangement as it keeps her away from Tyrant Banks whilst allowing her to publicise the cause closest to her arse.
At the end of the two week break we get our walk of shame and patronisation and of course the whole holiday is filmed so we can cherish it forever. An unexpected bonus is the whisper that Ant may be available to shit into for other functions, but I can't say that either I or M liked the way he looked up at our stars. He just didn't have that air of superiority we value, in fact there was just that whiff of desperation in the eyes which sullied the fun I'm afraid, for me particularly. Still, we may give him a try, I wouldn't want to second guess the requirements of visiting luminaries at the Castle.
The package includes a few of the choice Bushtucker Trials - Sucking off a Wombat, Dry Cleaning a Crocodile and Shitting into Anthony McPartlins mouth from a high branch - once much favoured by the Plastic Duck carrying Derelict who we all knew as Gazza, now, a broken, shadowy soul almost as physically feeble as shrunken Ben Gazzara.
Although we do get interviewed periodically, fortunately there's no-one to really vote us off, although if you wanted to call in - +448445-930-616(1) for the Dr. -616(2) for M - the money goes to a cause of our choice. Namely, preserving the skin of Jade Goody, which is a long cherished project of the Dr's, as some of you may be aware, soon to be seen as a series on Living (proceeds less costs and profit to her children). She'll go on the Lounge wall next to Des O'Connor, but may require a slightly larger board to be pegged out on.
Still, to keep us happy there is a sham eviction each morning, where we have hired Robert Kilroy Silk to be voted off each day. He does though have to be kept in the manner he expects between daily takes, so we also have Fatima Siad in for him to split each morning, after which he gets to personally re-circumcise her in readiness to split her the following day, etc. Fatima seems reasonably Ok with this arrangement as it keeps her away from Tyrant Banks whilst allowing her to publicise the cause closest to her arse.
At the end of the two week break we get our walk of shame and patronisation and of course the whole holiday is filmed so we can cherish it forever. An unexpected bonus is the whisper that Ant may be available to shit into for other functions, but I can't say that either I or M liked the way he looked up at our stars. He just didn't have that air of superiority we value, in fact there was just that whiff of desperation in the eyes which sullied the fun I'm afraid, for me particularly. Still, we may give him a try, I wouldn't want to second guess the requirements of visiting luminaries at the Castle.
Hitler’s Barmitzvah Video
Dr Nostrum can reveal today that, until now purposely concealed, pending verification, since their discovery in the same dingy East German Flat attic that recently offered up early Death Camp plans, are two reels of Birt Acres Birtac camera film shot by an unknown hired cameraman (the initials R. V. appear on the short title sequence) in which appear Alois and Klara Hitler and son Adolf, on the occasion of his Barmitzvah.
This extraordinary luxury was one usually afforded to only the extremely wealthy, but here it seems the two reels were part of a larger project to capture a year in the history of provincial Austrian towns and the appearance of one of the most important figures of the 20th Century was entirely coincidental. The film-maker is no doubt documenting a religious event remarkable only for it's comparitive rarity beyond the Pale of settlement shtetles
In the reels we see young Adolf posing with his proud parents in front of the temporary synagogue, a brief glimpse of Adolf and the Rabbi then party scenes, including the obligatory carrying around at shoulder height in a chair, speeches, and dancing to the hired band. There is a brief glimpse at what may be a magicians act, where we see a bearded man going from table to table in a cloak and gaining applause.
In the beginning Adolf seems happy in the company of family and friends - many Schicklgruber's and Hiedler's - though obviously embarrassed at having his cheeks pinched by kvelling elderly relatives. Only at the end do we get a glimpse the future, where Adolf turns away into his mothers bosom, face scrunched into revulsion at the attempted kisses of those same elders as they leave the party.
No sound of course and, this early in cinema, no captions, but this discovery will send shockwaves through historical texts. There's no getting away from it, Hitler's fascination with home cinema started here.
This extraordinary luxury was one usually afforded to only the extremely wealthy, but here it seems the two reels were part of a larger project to capture a year in the history of provincial Austrian towns and the appearance of one of the most important figures of the 20th Century was entirely coincidental. The film-maker is no doubt documenting a religious event remarkable only for it's comparitive rarity beyond the Pale of settlement shtetles
In the reels we see young Adolf posing with his proud parents in front of the temporary synagogue, a brief glimpse of Adolf and the Rabbi then party scenes, including the obligatory carrying around at shoulder height in a chair, speeches, and dancing to the hired band. There is a brief glimpse at what may be a magicians act, where we see a bearded man going from table to table in a cloak and gaining applause.
In the beginning Adolf seems happy in the company of family and friends - many Schicklgruber's and Hiedler's - though obviously embarrassed at having his cheeks pinched by kvelling elderly relatives. Only at the end do we get a glimpse the future, where Adolf turns away into his mothers bosom, face scrunched into revulsion at the attempted kisses of those same elders as they leave the party.
No sound of course and, this early in cinema, no captions, but this discovery will send shockwaves through historical texts. There's no getting away from it, Hitler's fascination with home cinema started here.
Shaming The Ghost Of Robert Robinson
The Dr has been a secret Only Connect fan. Well, fan in the sense that I watch it in the vain hope of beating one of the teams. This may be possible. The reason this may be possible is that the questions seem entirely based on whether you know the answer or not, i.e. they're not questions of intellect, merely recollection. So, should there be a run of questions that I know the answer to, the monkeys will have typed Shakespeare.
Still, to win an episode, you have to suffer Victoria Coren, who has inherited precisely none of her father's wit or delivery. In fact, she runs the show in the manner of one who hates the job and can't bear the fact that she's been buried (quite rightly) on BBC 4 (again, apparently). Her slightly sour expression never shifts, a hangover from too many successful poker nights no doubt.
I've nearly tuned out on it though, I think the final is soon, but I've pretty much had enough. A thought popped in to my mind that I can't dislodge and that's that I'm watching Ask The Family after a charisma bypass. Every time Victoria disparages a sap I miss Robert Robinson's smooth disappointment, each time Victoria chokes on a pun, I know Robert turns in his grave as a chance to shine passes by.
Still, he shouldn't worry. His memory's not the one on the line. No, that would be Dad's.
Still, to win an episode, you have to suffer Victoria Coren, who has inherited precisely none of her father's wit or delivery. In fact, she runs the show in the manner of one who hates the job and can't bear the fact that she's been buried (quite rightly) on BBC 4 (again, apparently). Her slightly sour expression never shifts, a hangover from too many successful poker nights no doubt.
I've nearly tuned out on it though, I think the final is soon, but I've pretty much had enough. A thought popped in to my mind that I can't dislodge and that's that I'm watching Ask The Family after a charisma bypass. Every time Victoria disparages a sap I miss Robert Robinson's smooth disappointment, each time Victoria chokes on a pun, I know Robert turns in his grave as a chance to shine passes by.
Still, he shouldn't worry. His memory's not the one on the line. No, that would be Dad's.
They Finally Did It! Tyrant Tyra Marches To The Beat Of The Sympathy Drum
Can't let the evening pass without picking up on last nights UK exposure to the ongoing shafting of the freedom to avoid Tyra Banks mentioning ever so selflessly that she has done everything better than anyone who dares step into her world, that is America's Next Top Model.
The Final of the series, this time included the 'Full Figure' model and the tension was palpable in the good Dr's Castle. How long would they tease the Fat Girl (it's all relative) into thinking she was going to win?
Our three finalists were Anya, Fatima and the Fat Girl (it's all relative), who's name I can't remember at the moment, but it'll come back to me.
Anya Kop looks a little like a streched, punched Gwen Stefani (how Hutchback would love to stuff that Stefani Calamari) who speaks exactly like Woody Allen's Miss America from Sleeper. I enjoyed her every vacant exclamation. A true blithering idiot without an iota of self conciousness.
In fact, as an aside, hats off to Tyra for unwittingly honouring Spike Milligan with each repetition of having the girls read in unison from a digital idiot board.
Fatima Said, the Imanalike snooty bitch who bears her circumcision before us like a cross, (you don't hear the Jews complaining) (yes, I know) (yes, I know that too) might be the one girl from the whole Show that gets a bit of a career going as a model, perhaps the word came down from Iman to pass over her. Here though, she is a nearly girl, laughably, she has both a superiority and an inferiority complex. The inferiority won out.
Whitney Thompson (I had to look it up) only looks big next to the model shaped girls standing next to her. If you walked past her in the street she'd just look like "a hot chick" according to Tyra. Funny that, because I had forgotten that I was watching America's Next Top Hot Chick.
So how far did they tease the Plus Size? All the way. She Won. They've teased her right past the winning line into believing the Model industry will use her ahead of every other girl that will fit into their clothes without them having to re-make them.
Don't you believe it all you size 10's out there. You ain't gonna get Tyra's vote no more. They had to have one Full Figure Winner to silence all the voices asking why they even bother picking her. Well, they've done it. Now we can all move on.
If only Tyrant Tyra would move on too.
The Final of the series, this time included the 'Full Figure' model and the tension was palpable in the good Dr's Castle. How long would they tease the Fat Girl (it's all relative) into thinking she was going to win?
Our three finalists were Anya, Fatima and the Fat Girl (it's all relative), who's name I can't remember at the moment, but it'll come back to me.
Anya Kop looks a little like a streched, punched Gwen Stefani (how Hutchback would love to stuff that Stefani Calamari) who speaks exactly like Woody Allen's Miss America from Sleeper. I enjoyed her every vacant exclamation. A true blithering idiot without an iota of self conciousness.
In fact, as an aside, hats off to Tyra for unwittingly honouring Spike Milligan with each repetition of having the girls read in unison from a digital idiot board.
Fatima Said, the Imanalike snooty bitch who bears her circumcision before us like a cross, (you don't hear the Jews complaining) (yes, I know) (yes, I know that too) might be the one girl from the whole Show that gets a bit of a career going as a model, perhaps the word came down from Iman to pass over her. Here though, she is a nearly girl, laughably, she has both a superiority and an inferiority complex. The inferiority won out.
Whitney Thompson (I had to look it up) only looks big next to the model shaped girls standing next to her. If you walked past her in the street she'd just look like "a hot chick" according to Tyra. Funny that, because I had forgotten that I was watching America's Next Top Hot Chick.
So how far did they tease the Plus Size? All the way. She Won. They've teased her right past the winning line into believing the Model industry will use her ahead of every other girl that will fit into their clothes without them having to re-make them.
Don't you believe it all you size 10's out there. You ain't gonna get Tyra's vote no more. They had to have one Full Figure Winner to silence all the voices asking why they even bother picking her. Well, they've done it. Now we can all move on.
If only Tyrant Tyra would move on too.
'New Aids Cure' Sold in North Korea
Having proven it's effectiveness as an AIDS treatment in Clinical trials held in South Africa and The Gambia, the North Korean's have bought the world's remaining stock of Oil of Ulay, but are bizarrely selling it as a contraceptive cream rather than as an after the fact cure as originally intended. In fact North Korea claims they have found it even more effective applied in this way with no cases of AIDS at all reported amongst the Population.
It's a little known fact that the change of name to Oil of Olay came about because of an argument between Albert O'Balsam and Robert Mugabe (the brand creators) over the African-wide rights to the name 'Bubulin', the secret ingredient in the original formula that was replaced by pro-retinase for the 'Olay' re-branding. Mugabe wouldn't allow O'Balsam equal share in the New formula and avoiding costly - and (as we now know) potentially dangerous - litigation O'Balsam cut and ran with Ulay.
Years in the wilderness for O'Balsam and Ulay, ostracized by the Western Media, saw Albert selling off the back of a Truck in South Africa, where he struck gold as the Government Health ministry began to hear reports from back alley AIDS Clinics that Ulay users were showing no signs of deterioration once they'd started applying the cream. With a speed previously unseen in tackling AIDS in Africa, joint Government Trials under Yahya Jammeh and Thabo Mbeki quickly brought the corroboration required to begin rolling out the new treatment.
Almost immediately though that ruination of modern African history, Greed, reared it's ugly head and saw all stocks of Oil of Ulay sold of to North Korea winning fabulous profits for the major players but heaping more misery on the poor.
It's a little known fact that the change of name to Oil of Olay came about because of an argument between Albert O'Balsam and Robert Mugabe (the brand creators) over the African-wide rights to the name 'Bubulin', the secret ingredient in the original formula that was replaced by pro-retinase for the 'Olay' re-branding. Mugabe wouldn't allow O'Balsam equal share in the New formula and avoiding costly - and (as we now know) potentially dangerous - litigation O'Balsam cut and ran with Ulay.
Years in the wilderness for O'Balsam and Ulay, ostracized by the Western Media, saw Albert selling off the back of a Truck in South Africa, where he struck gold as the Government Health ministry began to hear reports from back alley AIDS Clinics that Ulay users were showing no signs of deterioration once they'd started applying the cream. With a speed previously unseen in tackling AIDS in Africa, joint Government Trials under Yahya Jammeh and Thabo Mbeki quickly brought the corroboration required to begin rolling out the new treatment.
Almost immediately though that ruination of modern African history, Greed, reared it's ugly head and saw all stocks of Oil of Ulay sold of to North Korea winning fabulous profits for the major players but heaping more misery on the poor.
Irish Pork Fear For Hutchback!
Don't worry they say: Yes, the PCCB's accumulate and you can't get rid of them, but it would be very difficult to quantify the miniscule effects on any one person unless you ate a large amount of Irish pork over a long period of time.
Well, little comfort to Hutchback, who earned cash in hand whilst I studied for my doctorate as an Irish Pork Sausage tester, which required his eating 4 bangers 3 times a day for 7 years!
I shall have to monitor him carefully over the coming weeks and any small sign of weakness shall see him dealt with severely.
Well, little comfort to Hutchback, who earned cash in hand whilst I studied for my doctorate as an Irish Pork Sausage tester, which required his eating 4 bangers 3 times a day for 7 years!
I shall have to monitor him carefully over the coming weeks and any small sign of weakness shall see him dealt with severely.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
