Holiday in Thailand: Part II...

Me and the Missus are having breakfast. It is our first morning at a plush spa resort in Krabbi and I have come up with a cunning plan.

This involves me taking redundancy at work, which as a journalist will probably come round at some point, then me and the Missus spending a year in an Asian country; meaning I can train in a martial art at source, and she can spend a year working as an apprentice potter at source. We're also both writers so we'd write about the experience and about each other, too. 

It's a plan I am very excited about and I am waxing lyrical. 
'It would be fab. We'd have to spend six months beforehand learning another language, we'd have to rent the house out but that would pay for itself, and we'd also have to put a chunk of cash in to make it work. But it would be a great adventure,' I enthuse. 'If we went to Korea, I could train in hapkido at source, while you could get a gig as an apprentice potter. It would take some organising but it would be fabulous. It would be an adventure. And it would be our adventure. Just me and you. How cool would that be?'

The missus is silent. I assume she is pondering the plan. Then she speaks. 
'Somebody's got waffles for breakfast.'

I could feel offended that I am being ignored. Until I realise I have the opening sentence of the book version of our travels...

Holiday in Thailand: Part I...

Me and the Missus are on holiday in Thailand. And here are some thoughts so far:

Bangkok is both insane and amazing.

Ayutthaya is stunning. 

The Reclining Buddha (pictured above) is beautiful, 

Krabbi is utterly enchanting.

Five-word Reviews: Byzantium...

Beguiling, stylish, sexy vampire thriller.

Some Thoughts on Ed Miliband...

The problem with Ed Miliband is that we’re supposed to believe he’s a credible world statesman, a politician who can represent Britain and British interests on the world stage.

And it’s not like he has a huge weight of expectation on his shoulders either: the last two Labour Prime Ministers were Tony Blair and Gordon Brown, one of them a war criminal, and the other a Scottish man who was so unpopular that God produced a Biblical flood to wipe him out.

  

The other problem with Miliband is that in a world where media image is increasingly important, he has a look of continual befuddlement, like he just doesn’t understand what is going on and what his part in it is. 

Drink a pint, Ed. He looks ridiculous. Eat a bacon sandwich, Ed. He looks ridiculous. Look like a normal bloke, Ed. He looks ridiculous. Kidnap George Osbourne, dress him in rubber, put you in a Gingham dress, then simulate sex acts with each other in the window of Selfridges on Oxford Street, Ed. He still looks ridiculous. He can’t even get those basic things right.

Ed Miliband just doesn’t look the part. A world statesman? You have to be joking! Running the country? Please! He’d look out of his depth as the assistant manager of the tie department of Grace Brothers in Are You Being Served. Right? Probably. But that's also because we're obsessed with how he looks and how he comes across in the media.

Because unless you want another five years of repugnant, privileged, wealth-shitting former Etonians like Cameron and Osbourne, people who view any form of compassion for the poor like it was a turd that won’t flush in the bowl of the only fully functioning toilet at a dinner party for oligarchs, then you have to put all those media-contructed opinions about Miliband presenting themselves as facts aside and vote for him.

Because if it’s a choice between people who blatantly don’t care for anyone except their rich mates, or a bloke who clearly does care but just looks a bit crap doing it in front of a camera, then I know which one I will be voting for.

And it’s not that smug cunt, David Cameron. 

A Good Day...

This morning, I woke up curled between the Missus and our cat, Buffy.



I went to work then met the Other Woman Who Loves Other Women for dinner (note to readers from below the Watford gap: dinner means the midday meal). 

After work, I went training and spent time in the pub with the Other Woman afterwards.

My day then ended as it had begun, in bed with the Missus and the cat.

 

Days generally don't get better than this. Even with other less good shit stuff inbetween.

50 Shades of Grey...

I am in the pub with the Other Woman, who informs me that she and a mutual friend are having a girly night out to watch the soft-porn S&M chick flick, 50 Shades of Grey. She then asks me if I will be taking the Missus to see it. 

I reply with the following: 'I don't feel an urgent need to watch a fictitious story about a relationship that starts with the promise of spiritual fulfilment and intriguing sex, then turns into a soul-destroying journey where one dominant partner humiliates a submissive partner, only granting them sexual favours on their terms and usually after prolonged bouts of mental torture and physical chastisement. I feel that is a thing I am quite familiar with…'

The Other Woman ponders for a while, then concurs: 
'I see your point.'

The Modern World Disgusts Me: Part 1...

I was in a shop today looking at buying music and I chanced upon a CD by an artist called Joey Badass. But his surname was spelt Bada$$. Honestly. This is a real thing. I have not made it up for comedy purposes. He actually exists. Above is a picture to prove this is real.

I was also walking up Guildford High Street when the Missus pointed out that there was a stand for UKIP opposite the posh bread stall. And there the UKIPs were, talking to people, like they were proper human beings and not the Poundland racists and discredited Tories they actually are. And some people were talking back to them. Like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

Some people are just fucking idiots.

Five-word Reviews: Ex Machina...

Engaging enough low-key, sci-fi thriller.

Comedy News…

Two comedies currently providing much enjoyment at From Beer to Paternity Towers are Catastrophe on Channel 4 and Uncle, which was a sleeper hit on BBC3 last year and is about to return for a second series.  

Catastrophe is written by Sharon Horgan, who co-wrote the excellent adult sitcom, Pulling, a few year ago, and American actor-writer Rob Delaney. They play a Londoner and an American who find themselves parents-to-be after a passionate fling ends up with a baby en route.

It’s beautifully written and beautifully under-played, with none of the cast grasping for laugh lines. And even though it can occasionally mine uncomfortable territory (birth trauma, cancer, social awkwardness), it still manages to be very human with both central characters eminently likeable. It also boasts a cameo from Carrie Fisher, while the superb Ashley Jensen features in a supporting role.

Series two of Uncle gets under way any day now and Nick Helm still excels as the loveable but emotionally stunted loser of the title, with the excellent Elliot Speller-Gillott as his strait-laced and neurosis-laden nephew, Errol, whose own trial through teenage-dom continues to delight.

  

Catastrophe is currently on Channel 4 and is well worth a catch-up if you’ve missed it. Uncle is well worth a series record when it kicks off.