Morrissey moz-moz, mozzer Morrissey morrisey morrissey. Morrissey “S. Patrick”, morrissey Wembley Arena morrissey mosh. Moz, mozzer morrissey, morrissey “How Soon Is Now”, “Please, Please Please Let Me Get What I Want”, morrissey morrissey. Morrissey — STEVEN PATRICK — moz morrissey “Disappointed”, morrissey moz-moz.
ps: Boz Boorer. I thank you.
I have committed to memory only one of Edmund Clerihew Bentley’s outstandingly odd poetic ditties:
Sir Humphry Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered sodium.
You too could discover Sir Humphry by coming to see o-region at the Battersea Arts Centre this weekend… Go on, you know you want to.
Right. This evening’s meejah round-up as follows:
Avenue Q: Very good, definitely not safe to describe to colleagues unless they quit some time ago.
Untold Stories: Very Alan Bennett, much more to my taste when I imagine his voice than when I hear it (as in the endless trailers on R4) for some reason. Sorry Mr. B., no idea why that should be. Nonetheless the kind of eminently readable and slightly tart prose which it’s hard not to read.
The Prestige: Actually rather good. Although I admit to being a sucker for anything with Hugh Jackman in, and, fair enough, anything with Christian Bale in, and, fair enough, anything with David Bowie in, and, fair enough, anything with Andy Serkis in… I thought it had its own merits as well ;> Even if the “shocking twists” retained their shock, they certainly weren’t surprising; a couple of unaccountabilities in the film earlier on clearly signpost the way. Ah well. Nonetheless an enjoyable couple of hours’ romp.
Oh, and I bought a filing cabinet this morning. Does anyone else think I should get out more?
Well, I suppose a hearty welcome is to be extended to all you contemporary, cutting-edge, mash-up, blogging types who’ve spent this evening in thrall to the idea that I might have a blog. I’m tempted to offer that it’s all that teensy bit incestuous, but if I’m the beneficiary of it, frankly my opinions melt like snow in, er, a kiln. Or something else really hot which is a bit snappier.
So. Thanks to my “discoverer”, whose identity I do not feel at liberty to reveal, and a blessed good evening, morning, or afternoon to those of you who have stumbled across me as upon an inconveniently-located drunkard upon the Strand.
It was lovely to see you all last night and we should see more of each other. Really. I’ve had two large glasses of red wine and as a consequence am feeling terribly sincere.