ABSOLUTE POWER...

 

We are living in an era where the rich and powerful can do whatever they like with impunity, lack of consequences, revolution or uprising. An age of absolute power with any dissent silenced (often permanently)

Therefore, the owners of Manchester City couldn’t give a fig about football’s governing bodies

When the news came out that the club had been found guilty of 114 charges of financial impropriety there was an element of surprise, surprise that it seemed that the Premier League were not going to let this one go. It seemed that two and half decades of malfeasance were going to go unpunished, it felt like this nation state owned club would carry on regardless.

However, the findings of the Premier League were uncompromising, the language used in the statement scathing, the levels of wrongdoing astounding.

The shadow that this casts over the beautiful game is very dark indeed and therefore the decision making about sanctions need to be a scorched earth policy.

To be clear, modern sport is by no means squeaky clean but the sheer temerity with which the ownership ran roughshod over rules that they had agreed to is astonishing.

The belief that sport should operate on a level playing field has been at the core of things since that first ball was kicked, but that is a belief that some disagree with and when those in disagreement have unlimited financial resources belief is irrelevant.  

Many, more qualified than I, can fully explain the levels of cheating that saw Manchester City dominant in the English game and those explanations provide damning evidence of guilt.

Your value system defines your culture, and your culture defines your organisation. Manchester City’s ownership’s value system is that they think they are above the law, any law, but that belief may be misplaced as Manchester City face the mother of all punishments.

BAD COMPANY

 

The 'unwanted company' cinema craze started in the 1980s with films like Fatal Attraction and Dead calm and blossomed in the 1990s with the likes of Pacific Heights, Single White Female, Unlawful Entry, Internal Affairs, Fear, The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, Bad Influence and Poison Ivy. Some trends are easy to explain; the musicals of the 30s were a reaction to the great  depression, Film Noir was related to the uncertainty of post war life and new Hollywood came out of post Vietnam identity, but this trend is harder to pin down.

Fear of strangers, concerns about threats to stability and unhealthy influence are themes of the genre. This was the end of the Reagan era and the start of the GW Bush era with it's connections to the end of the Cold War and the Gulf War.

So what drove the writers and producers of Hollywood to produce this output?

Could it have been the boom in home entertainment? Watching a movie in the comfort of your own home about someone invading the comfort of your own home may have been an astute combination, but that's not it as they generally did well at the box office.

Baby Boomer anxiety perhaps. The home ownership and urban aspiration that had been worked for so vociferously threatened by the arrival of a an unwanted guest. The Bad Man/Bad Woman lurking on the fringes of a perfect life, the new Bogeyman.

Tarantino and Transpotting rocked up and the cinema landscape changed again. The Deadly stranger receded into the background of the mainstream but worked their way into a genre where they have thrived. That genre of course was horror. The real home of the outsider.

The heyday of the mainstream period of stranger danger was an enjoyable one with fine actors relishing their parts and is an overlooked era of filmmaking.

Who knows, these unwelcome guests may reemerge with the increased fear of the outsider. After all, cinema is at it's best when it reflects life.

GETTING CARRIED AWAY

 

Let's all get carried away shall we? Over reaction is the new black, Knee-jerkism is the opium of the masses and outrage rules the day. Why does everyone feel the need to erupt at the drop of a hat?

The need to be seen and the need to be heard has meant that, in a crowded market, the squeaky wheel get's the grease. That market is attention seeking content viewed through the hand held twat devices that are ubiquitous and all consuming.

Nowhere is this reactionary trend more prevalent than in the world of football. Every goal, foul, free kick, perceived transgression is met with hands flung in the air, ranting and vein throbbing temples. There is a new trend of 'Watchalongs', which, basically are bloke's with a videocamera who sit watching a game while viewers in turn  watch them being performative and blowing their tops at the drop of a hat.

They aren't experts, in fact they struggle to put together coherent sentences, but they, bafflingly, have a multitude of viewers who in turn respond with outrage.

It's a vicious circle of overreaction that is becoming the norm, so much so that mainstream TV and Radio act in a similar way. Controversy equals clicks and clicks equal cash.

The other area where over reaction is king is the world of the right wing reactionary. Fury at the mention of "migrant", rage at the thought of "are country" being taken over, indignation at boats on the channel.

What all this tells me is that pausing for thought is an outdated concept for many. Taking time to consider is defunct and rationality is in short supply.

We all need to calm down, take a breath, think and use a bit of common sense and context. My concern is that altering behaviours is difficult, particularly if those behaviours are  ubiquitous and bombarding. 

Put simply, let's all stop getting carried away, let's not feel desperate for attention from people we don't know and will most probably never meet

REICH HERE REICH NOW

The rise of the right is happening right here and it's happening right now. That's not hyperbole that is disconcerting fact. People marching on the streets with flags hoisted, carrying cans of Stella whilst lacking teeth shout into the abyss with rhetoric based on rumour and conjecture, there feeble minds easily swayed by "apparently" and "Well, I heard"

The awkward 'Patriot' Ninjas are also popping up and blocking roads in the cause of stopping the migrants. They don't really know why they want to stop the migrants and they don't really know why they have to wear a balaclava but they do and they stand around looking awkward like those blokes queueing up to have sex with Bonnie Blue.

They are using Christianity too, oh they love to use Christianity as a way to explain why migrants are out of order, thing is most of them aren't Christians, in fact they would struggle to read a Bible and find any relevance. They don't know about The Good Samaritan, or loving thy neighbour and all those other bits that talk about how you should embrace others (at least I think that's what the Bible is abut not having read it or having any religious leanings)

It always starts with the irrational hate, the anger and the vitriol aimed at the concept of someone a bit different. Once ignited that fire burns bright and the throng swells accordingly. The instigators are men with blunt names and an eye on celebrity status. The coke taking helps; what's a good march without a bit of Chang after all. So does the lager; you can't march without lager.

The enthusiasm to raise flags and pester innocent bystanders is evident as they adopt the mob mentality that is all to familiar from history books and News At Ten. 

They chose their destinations well. Provincial towns, suburban outposts, seaside towns decimated by loss of industry, the far flung areas of desperation. They target the hotels and their  employees, they target the men and women of the RNLI who put their lives on the line for us. They target anyone that they can safely shout at and intimidate.

I don't know of any solution for the massing of the ignorant. I can't think of an answer for people that aren't interested in facts. I don't know a strategy to enlighten those that don't want to be enlightened, but I'll tell you something, a wise man once said "never again" but if we are all not careful we may see history repeating itself.

PEACOCKS OF THE WORLD UNITE

As we all know Peacocks flourish their tail feathers extravagantly to draw the attention of the dowdy Peahen, they seem to do this at the drop of a hat and, to be fair, they look magnificent. This is one of nature’s remarkable ways of drawing attention to creatures. Unfortunately, a growing number of humans have adopted this habit with the intent of getting noticed by mobile phone wielding members of the public and other moment capturing folk 

The modern phenomenon of The Influencer is predicated on drawing attention to oneself, getting ‘likes’ and building a brand. They walk hand in hand with content creators. The Influencer is the latest celebrity genre, following hot on the heels of reality stars. The numerous celebrity TV shows have lineups that have gone from “who is that?’ to “who the f*k is that?” as influencers and content creators abound.

Paul Weller once wrote that “the public gets what the public wants” and the popularity of these social media sirens is pretty large. As many turn away from TV to YouTube and scrolling on their devices those that are slightly more adept with technology are growing in number and creating cash from clicks.

Maybe we should view them as entrepreneurs who have grasped their opportunities with both hands rather than ludicrous popinjays who are dumbing down the world of entertainment for financial gain at the cost of critical thinking and originality.

Could this generation of online onanists be the new philosophers only with messages diluted to appeal to the hard of thinking? Could their influence be a power for good, their content have integrity and an underlying positive message? Who knows?

What is clear is that they are show-offs, and I suppose that in the broader world of showbiz you kind of have to be, but with the growth of this aspect of the online world we may reach a point where everyone is either a content creator, influencer or someone who works within content creation and influencing. The day will come when our collective senses will be assaulted by an Ostentation, a Pride or a Muster of Peacocks at every turn strutting and flourishing while plying their attention seeking trade as the the masses keep on clicking away.

LET THE TRAIN CAUSE THE STRAIN

 

"Let The Train Take The Strain" was the mantra of the British Rail advertising executives during the 1970s. These were still the days of British Rail before the UK rail service was privatised, a world of regularity and quiet conformity, an era when the trains, generally, ran on time, and if not on time, they were certainly cheaper.

The sell off to private firms for whom passenger satisfaction takes a distant second place to profits has led us to a place where traveling in the UK is akin to Homer's Odyssey.

An example of the frustrating nature of rail travel was my own experience of (trying) to get from Somerset to London on one of the hottest days of a very hot summer. 

My first train, before having to change at Bath was old stock with the ventilation of the Black Hole Of Calcutta and the comfort of a bed of nails. Naturally the train stopped midway and myself and the other passengers were stranded in a steel box with the sun beating down and streaming in through the blinder-less windows.

I was tempted to break that little glass box that houses a plastic hammer for emergency window breakage, such were the conditions on this train compartment turned into a New Delhi cattle truck. The longer the delay the more chances that the connecting train would be missed. This thought was not helped by the lack of anything approaching refreshments.

As the temperature soured in the metal container my energy levels diminished. Imagined thoughts of not actually getting home became reality in my mind's eye as I could see no escape. This went on for what seemed like a long weekend, then suddenly we started moving. Alas I had missed our connection and therefore could only spin any positives out of the situation by thinking that at leas I would have to wait on an outdoor bench with the occasional gust of air from a passing train go supply some relief.

This situation was exacerbated by the fact that my journey from London to Somerset was also delayed meaning missing my connection. The following connecting train was two and a half hours away which is hardly conducive to a relaxing weekend away.

The British railway network is not fit for purpose, I think that's clear for all to see, and us Brits should be embarrassed when comparisons are made with some European rail services. How it can be more difficult to make a trip to the coast than traveling through Germany or Switzerland, or Sweden or a number of other countries should be a source of national shame.

The cost of rail travel is also a cause for concern. It being, in some cases, cheaper to fly is not good thing but it's just a fact.

We wont see the end of private firms running things any time soon, nor am I optimistic about an investment in stock so that extreme cold, extreme heat, leaves or wind cause trains to be cancelled or delayed.

They say "you get what you pay for" but if you choose to pay for a train journey you don't get what you pay for, in fact, you get what your given...and lump it

MILLER TIME

Frank Miller has a biography out now called Push The Wall. Miller has been described in various terms that suggest that he is a genius in the field of comic books. He is. There are few  comic book creators who legitimately pushed the art form; Kirby, Ditko, Toth, Moore, Moebius for example, but Miller stood on those giant's shoulders and created something unique. As an artist he has become more abstract in his style and as a writer he has, for  some, become more controversial. Miller has always been an advocate for free speech within the medium and free speech goes both ways.

Miller's ability to deconstruct the comic book page was what set him apart and his bold use of space on the page aided his story telling, and what stories, from the hard boiled streets of Sin City to ancient Greece, Miller has been able to tell intimate stories on broad canvases

Miller's collaborations are also strong, his work with Geoff Darrow on Hard Boiled and Dave Gibbons on the Martha Washington saga are excellent and ground breaking stories.

The adaptations of his black and white opus Sin City, got it right in a way that not many comic book adaptations achieve and are hugely enjoyable.

They say that the gods have feet of clay and Miller's Achilles heel is his cinematic work. Screenwriter on Robocop 2 and 3 and his directorial debut The Spirit were failures, there's no other way of putting it. As he has gone from Marvel to DC to independent publishers so his style has evolved and become far more fluid, but for many modern Miller art  is Marmite and that's easy to see why, but he dipped his toe earlier in his career to dazzling effect.

Following on from his dense graphic novel debut Ronin, Miller's masterpiece is in the upper echelon of comic books that changed the game, and The Dark Knight Returns really is a masterpiece. The Comic book world was left reeling when it was released and it's ripple effect is still felt on the page and on the screen. It's follow up The Dark Knight Strikes Again is different in tone to it's predecessor which is more of a slow build, and is the fastest paced comic book you will ever read. DK2 is to The Dark Knight what T2 is to the Terminator.

There is also a new Frank Miller documentary, Frank Miller American Genius, which is a remarkably good  view into Miller's world and is an entertaining and revealing hour and a half. Alongside the release of his book this is a time to reflect on a remarkable career. He still has the desire to create more and experiment on his style. 2026 looks like it really is 'Miller Time'

SAY HELLO TO Ms. X

 

2026 has bought us a plethora of interesting and entertaining programmes on streaming apps. Many have female protagonists or strong female co-stars, these new and newish shows offer more variety than mainstream cinema currently does and maybe that is to do with the long form of the TV series 

Pluribus, Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed, Margot’s Got Money Troubles, Ms X, Lucky, Star City, Furious, Silo, American Primeval, The Beauty, Department Q, Shinning Girls, Mobland, 3 Body Problem, The Beauty, Spider Noir, Cape Fear, The Boys, The Last Frontier and more.

These shows qualify for a number of genres and provide opportunities for new ideas, writers and performers, they also allow established actors to explore longer character development opportunities.

For me, the standout is Ms X, a New Zealand drama starring Melissa George, who previously spent a long time in Hollywood, even appearing in David Lynch' masterpiece Mulholland Drive and the massively underrated Triangle,  that concerns a housewife dropped into an unusual, to say the least, situation. It has shades of the greatest of all antipodean TV shows, Mr Inbetween, and that is not just about the location. We delve into the NZ Underworld, Police Department, Latin Cartels, the problems of having teenage children and living in a "Keep Up With The Joneses" neighbourhood. This is done deftly and the humour within is natural not forced. It has cliff hanger endings, rich characters and  a genuine "what is going to happen next" sense of jeopardy.

The supporting cast are uniformly excellent and weave in and out of each other's and Ms X's orbit, some with good intentions and others shrouded in mystery harbouring danger

If you have seen Mr Inbetween, this is a must and if you haven't this could be a good gateway show to Mr Inbetween. Or simply enjoy it, in it's own right, for what it is: an excellent, quirky, series, high on heart with a mix of intrigue and excitement. Once you meet Ms X you will want to stay in her world for a while 

INDEPENDENT CINEMA FOREVER

 

In London there is no excuse to not go to the cinema, no excuse at all, unless you want to make one. I don’t go to the mainstream cinema chains due to the prevelance of audience members talking to each other, looking at their phones, talking on their phones causing a commotion with endless rustling and slurping and generally being uncouth. There is also the issue of limited choice and exorbitant pricing This in itself may seem at odds with my opening statement but kindly bear with me gentle reader.

Alternatives do exist in the shape of smaller independent cinemas, case in point, the wonderful Prince Charles off Leicester Square, a haven for those that love the movies and want a bit of variety. Entrance is cheap as chips, and a lifetime membership is only £60.00. This entitles you to discount, free films and films for £1.00. and is, as stated, for life. The range of films they show is breathtaking and every taste is catered for with an ever-changing programme of rare and under seen gems, some in 70mm, 35mm or 4k restoration. It is an institution that was recently saved from closure by a vast number of loyal patrons who supplied a petition that simply could not be ignored.

Another great little cinema is The Covent Garden Cinema, adjacent to Covent Garden but nearer to Holborn tube station. A beautiful art deco cinema with a range of obscure films and rarities with an option for members to choose films to be shown. Tickets can be as little as £8.50, and you are guaranteed none of those pesky multiplex antics. And They serve Timothy Taylors Ale. They have quiz nights and discussion meetings it's hidden gem on the bustling west end

The Arthouse Crouch End is a bijou and wonderful cinema that feels like a café with a cinema attached. Again, variety and very reasonable pricing are the order of the day and if there’s nothing you fancy then the Crouch End Picturehouse is a few doors down.

Picturehouses are a chain that doesn’t feel like a chain and places independent cinema alongside current box office fare. They offer good value memberships, and the Crouch End branch has two nice bar areas, and they have Silver Screen viewings for those over 60, subtitled screenings and free tea and biscuits. I recommend also the Finsbury Park Branch which offers the same choices and is easier to get to as it’s stone’s throw from Finsbury Park Station

There was no way I was not going to mention the Everyman, there are a number of branches and the standout feature of this group of cinemas is the seating and the food both top notch. Reasonable pricing, great choice of films and great service distinguish these cinemas. I probably go more often to an Everyman than any other cinema and I would recommend them to anyone.

I spent many happy hours in the original Scala cinema on Tottenham Street near Goodge Street Station so I have had a natural affinity with independent cinema and it has never let me down

So, there you go, if you live in London there are a plethora of cinemas to visit (and I’ve not even mentioned the Curzon, The ICA, The Phoenix the Rio, the BFI and many others that are popping up across the capital). I would urge you to pay a visit to your local independent cinema as this will help more independent films to be made. At this moment when Hollywood is churning out either bland or bombastic product independent cinema is needed more than ever. The many excellent foreign language movies that put Hollywood to shame need the independent scene so that they can be seen and enjoyed. Do yourself a favour and support your local independent

AT YOUR SERVICE

 The British Service station has one thing you can rely on, and that one thing is a smelly toilet. Actually "smelly toilet" does not do the stench ridden stalls justice as the aroma emanating from within is both pervasive and oppressive. It's hard to say why this is the case but it could have something to do with the age of a great number of these motorway stop offs. The decrepitude can be seen in the detail; the non locking locks, the broken toilet seats, the insipid hand dryer strength and the invariable "Caution Wet' signs.

To compliment the Eastern Bloc architecture there is the Soviet era over reliance on bread based food offers. Bread, Bread and more Bread, there is something about travelling in the UK and Bread. It's the same at the airport where sandwiches are the de facto choice. Bread sits in the travellers tummy making for  bloated hours of sitting still, waist band busting road trips and indigestion inducing treks across the country.

Another Service Station standard is the fill to the brim rubbish bins and uncollected debris from tables where families have scoffed and quenched and walked away from, leaving the used boxes and paper wrappers strewn across them.

Not enough staff, is the answer to why these places are dirty and unsightly, or rather, enough staff but with zero motivation or investment in a career in the service industries. Let's face it, working in a Service Station is hardly a child's dream career. Even so, being good at your job regardless is a good habit to get into.

Long gone are the days when Service Stations were seen as part of the glamour and luxury of travel that was an aspiration for many. The pride in service, the civility of it all has long gone replaced by a laissez faire attitude and a "Get It Yourself" ethos

A trip to today's typical Service Station is a generic experience and one which one takes part in reluctantly on the basis purely of hunger and need to use the facilities. It's certainly not a destination

THICK AS A PRANK

The other day I was sitting in the car on a hot day, minding my own business near the Emirates stadium, home of the Arsenal. The window was wound down and the atmosphere was mellow with families visiting the stadium and a general good feeling in the air that you get when the team you support has just won the league.

You could smell the jerk chicken from the nearby restaurant , and sense the unity of the throng.

I noticed a group of three youths, yes they were boisterous and loud but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. As they passed by one of them suddenly reached for the door handle and to my surprise opened the door. He accompanied this by saying "Get Out Of The Car?!"

My response was to issue a loud "F8@k Off" and to slam the door shut. This led to the youths walking away.

Now, for me this was rather unexpected and I would suggest that on opening the door and gauging my height and size and general demeanour that the young man in question may have had second thoughts, but, and here's the thing, what if the car door chosen to open had been that of a vulnerable person? What if this act of aggression, in broad daylight, had frightened somebody out of their wits?

Whether this was an example of a modern day 'prank'  (remember Happy Slapping and jovial home invasions?) seen on Tik Tok or any of the lowest common denominator social media sites remains to be seen, but I hope it isn't just the latest craze carried out by people who, frankly couldn't care a jot about others, people that have zero empathy.

Pranks used to be the forte of Jeremy Beadle and they weren't threatening just mildly embarassing, now they are hateful internet memes

Now I am a big boy and this experience is pretty much water off a duck's back as I have rarely if ever, been targeted in this manner, but it's another example of a kind of need to be doing something that draws attention, a need to be performative a need to, for want of a better word, show off.