2009 – things I have liked

This year I have liked many things. I’m not going to do one of those top ten round-ups, just a big hodge podge jumble of the bits and pieces I have enjoyed. Rather than the pristine event that is Christmas Dinner, this blog is more akin to the foodfest that is Boxing Day – all the leftovers rammed into a bizarre meal that still manages to conjure a smile. In no particular order then, good things from my 2009:

The Horrors

What a band, what an album, what a Glastonbury set. Just watch this.

Bombay Bicycle Club

Michael Clayton

Bought in 2008, but this year it has been my most-watched film by a long long way. A real thinker.


Better than Skins? I think so.


Today I noticed that my daughter was making funny noises which oddly ressembled the sounds my wife makes in bed. When I asked her what she was doing she said “I’m pretending to be mommy from last night.” I was on a business trip last night. FML.

The Guardian website

The Pianist

The first film to make me cry since The Land Before Time.

Too Many Sebastians


Curb Your Enthusiasm

Too funny.

Richard P. Feynman

“Don’t you have time to think?’ is a collection of this Nobel prize winning physicist’s letters. Apart from showing how incredibly talented he was as a scientist, there are  also some unbelievably poignant letters between Feynman and his first wife, who was dying of TB whilst he worked on the Manhattan Project. This finishes a letter he wrote to Arline after she died – “Please excuse me not mailing this – but I don’t know your new address”.

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Roald Dahl is a genius.

I’ve probably missed quite a few things, but all the important ones are there. Happy days, happy Christmas and happy new year to you all.


Shut up Alesha


Alesha Dixon has been chatting shit. I didn’t have much time for her anyway, but apparently she is not content with being a karaoke singer and all-round media ‘personality’. Now, she wants to be an investigative journalist. Piss off.

Dixon’s article on absent fathers would shame a hamster with a typewriter. She says that she is a ‘pretty secure and confident woman – you’d have to be, to do what I do’. What do you do? Sing other people’s songs? Hold up a table tennis bat with a number on? She must have a lot of confidence, because that what she is – a con. She was a shit rapper in Mis-teeq, she’s a shit singer and she’s a shit for bumping Arlene off Strictly. She should shit off.

‘These days I can’t help thinking about those kids’ she says. Arsewank. These all she can’t stop doing is getting her self-righteous mug absolutely everywhere, and counting the resultant cash.

‘I also know I can’t control society at large – world domination has never been my thing’. Thank God for that. I was worried about Alesha unleashing the Fourth Reich with Len Goodman as head of her secret police.

Up to that point, the article was just poorly written dross. But now, Alesha starts going on about the worrying possibility of accidentally meeting and shagging a half sibling. ‘Likewise, if you don’t know who your father is, you won’t know if he’s gone on to have other kids so you could end up bumping into a half-brother or sister down the local pub or club without knowing it. One thing could lead to another and, well, it’s a pretty scary thought.’ It’s a pretty scary thought if you also worry about being eaten alive by squirrels, of drowning under a tsunami of plant pots. To sane people, it’s not scary at all.

To illustrate her point, Alesha quotes some lobotomy candidate called Amy who ‘said it literally crossed her mind every day. She’d walk down a street and wonder if she had just passed her father or her half-brother or sister. If she met a guy on a night out, one of the first things she’d ask him would be “What’s your surname?”, just in case it matched that of her biological father’. Of course, par for the course for Alesha is not finding out the guy’s name until after he’s spaffed inside her.

Alesha rounds off by saying ‘children growing up without knowing who their father is has become an increasing phenomenon which won’t go away just like that’. I wish she’d go away just like that, that being with tears rolling down her face after finding out that she is carrying twins fathered by Gary Glitter. Still want daddy to know the kids, dickhead?

(By the way, I totally agree with the premise of the article. I disagree with it’s delivery via an unqualified rent-a-gob).


  • I miss Arrested Development:

Watch out for the paedo-mouse


Please protect any young ones from this evil mouse.

  • In other news, this is a bit good:
  • I’m going out this weekend for the first time in a long time.
  • New favourite chat-up line – ‘Want to come back to my place and we can name your tits?
  • I like shoes.

Think I’m gonna do some round up of the year soon, and may even attempt to address this decade. Now that’ll be bonkers.