Andrew Reid: Curb Your Enthusiasm

Dead Set scared the shit out of me and so I immediately began to think of ideas for my own zombie film. How about the Christmas market where everybody drinks infected German beer and become rowdy and blood thirsty? Or a mass outbreak of mental illness and the only safe place is a secure mental asylum, whilst the nurse has to mobilise a sophisticated attack force made up of the patients?

After the Dead Set DVD ended I turned on the TV and there wasn’t any picture. But soon we got the sound working and it sounded like some kind of news report, with a helicopter observing mass violence on the ground. The indistinct grumble of police radios was only interrupted when Joey spoilt my scary game by grabbing the TV changer which made the channel switch briefly to Pop Hits and back to the news channel, which then with the insistence that a picture be turned on (because it was scaring her), turned out to be Police Chase TV.

So now I am thinking, that would actually be quite a good idea. How about the film begins with Dead Set on TV, itself a parody of real life, which ends and reveals that in actual fact there is a real zombie attack happening outside, right now. Come to think of it that’s a shit idea and I like my mental asylum one better or even the football zombie film, which didn’t really make any sense.

Joey ended the night with a scarf wrapped round her entire head, typing nervously into her laptop, be-speckled eyes peeking out from above the scarf. When I went to fetch her bag and pretended to be a zombie when I came back in, maybe I went a bit too far.

But I am determined to see out my story, as a fully formed idea. How about the marauding crowds at the shopping centre today, brainlessly giving money to rich shops, falling hook and bate for Christmas and the feeble VAT cut trick. A shopping centre would be the perfect place for an outbreak of zombie virus. Or how about the security checks at an airport, with all that paranoia going on, with everyone suspicious about anyone middle-eastern, with a beard, when suddenly it’s owners pupils turn white.

No, I still think the X Factor would be a good place for the zombie film to be set. At the auditions, as the crowds arrive, maybe the first blood curdling transformation could happen right in front of Simon Cowell, and he’d give it a affirmative “No”.

Watching Britney Spears it seems this has already happened. Shaking her fat McDonalds trashy ass at a drooling Lou Walsh. No, no, no. This isn’t what a pop star should be like. She used to sing about still being a girl, not yet a woman but then instead of growing up to become a woman she became a flat out slag instead. Her latest image continues this theme, but it’s a bit creepy. Circus stuff. Dancing morons. Burlesque leather outfits. She’s also aged terribly, she’s far too old to be Britney and she’ll never be Madonna.

Quitting the zombie crowds at the Christmas market outside the town hall today, we headed into a jewelry exhibition at the council building’s lobby. If this sounds throat slittingly mundane, you ain’t seen the place. Gothic arched ceiling, low-slung pillars and huge sculptures, winding stone staircases and marble floors. It looks like a posh Scottish castle, and sat in the midst of it all was Bob, the receptionist.

But I think he fancied himself as a bit of a security guard. He had a few screens in front of him, mostly showing a crashed out Windows desktop, but he studied intently CCTV footage of the lobby, and he obviously caught me taking snaps of the staircase because as I leant over the sign saying ‘No public access’ and pressed the shutter all I heard instead of a click was Bob.

“No photos here!”

The minions apparently were only allowed in the bits where they’re manipulated into handing over their money to buy tat and chains. All other activities were strictly forbidden. So I went over to Bob and asked him whether or not if I paid more council tax I could take any photos? He smiled and mumbled at his desk as if tutting at a cat which was clawing at his trouser leg whilst going “meow”.

So apparently, we own the council because we pay for it but we’re not allowed to take photos of their fancy extravagant secret head quarters and we own the banks because we’ve paid for them to stay in business but we’re not allowed to stop paying our credit card bills.

Sod films, if we’re not a nation of Zombies already then…

*ARGHHHH…..SLASH SPLAT GRR…* 

Spendaholics on BBC 3 is where some psychologists try to batter some sense into a poor girl with a £14,000 credit card  bill.

They had her hitting a trigger with a baseball bat in order to blow up a red box containing her mum. Well, not quite her mum - but a written note saying ‘Mum’. Her mum was already dead. The psychologist wanted the poor girl to forget about her mum and to let go, as this one particular source of unhappiness was contributing to her self enforced shopping therapy.

The next day they tried a slightly less adventurous way of curing her spending habit. Instead of buying new shoes, she’d go through her 87 pairs of existing shoes, all still in their original boxes, and swap them on a some kind of Swap-a-shoe.com website, for a fee of just £2.50 per pair. The website looked like the store front of Topshop, containing sparkling photos of new shoes which would make Marie Antoinette swoon.

Having singled out 8 pairs of shoes that she hadn’t worn for at least 4 days, she posted the smelly junk off to the jolly swap shop and received her new pair from the other unfortunate shoe swap victim. A new box arrived, some green thatched monstrosities with giant brown stains down the soles, last worn by a drunk slag on a night out in Blackburn.

This, according to the program was “how to lead a champagne lifestyle on a lemonade budget”. I say it’s tantamount to stealing White Lightening from a tramp.

Next up, the oh so sensitive moment when the cold hearted psychologist lead the fat shoeface out onto a beach with a giant pink vase containing her mum’s ashes.

This is where she’d separate her anger and grief from buying too many shoes.

Her mum’s white ashes scattered onto the sand from the vase along with part of a burnt high heel.

Shoeface was distraught, crying and emotionally destroyed. All captured on TV of course. Job done psychologist.

There is a true story of a friend of a friend, an innocent student who racked up huge debts. She’d buy a dress here, a pair of shoes there. She’d go on holiday with her credit card and buy the best handbag to make her social standing more ‘feelgood’ than simply ‘poor student’. So the pauper gave her money to the rich shops and banks, and found herself in debt at the end of it all.

She looked the part in the nightclub with her Louis Vuitton handbag and as she sauntered down the street with her flowing dress and beautiful physique people looked admiringly her way.

Now she’s become a prostitute to pay off her debts.

It all goes to show that once the banks have taken their chunk of interest and the shops have eaten their chunk of profit, you usually end up one social class down from where you started.

I’m off to put some cameras on eBay. 

Chapter 1: Blood Red. 

The social etiquette of the executive box would make a working class lad tremble. This is a room for powerful people, for deal makers to socialise with the club’s owners at Old Trafford. Johnny Govanni, the boss of a wealthy potential sponsor is one such deal maker, sipping Moet Champaign in the midst of watching the 2008/2009 Premiership campaign. 2-0 up if you’re asking, oh and he has a prawn sandwich to look forward to.

So when Johnny Govanni began spitting blood, it didn’t go down very well. Wives and daughters recoiled with shocked disgust and began screaming. Not liking to be seen as the ‘uncaring’ type, board member of Manchester United Plc. Mr F Jameson began to rush over to just outside blood spitting distance of the stricken Govanni, who still has his prawn sandwich to hand, covered in the red stuff.

“Can I get you a drink of water? What is the matter? I have called an ambulance. They’ll be with us shortly. Mr Govanni?”

Outside the crowd suddenly roars. The commotion triggers Govanni to jump up and lash out at Mr Jameson, who stumbles back in shock against the rattling windows of the executive box, bright red blood covering his smart tuxedo. The women in the room scream and everybody heads for the doors at once, cramming themselves through the doorframe and down the stairs.

Mr Jameson is being eaten.

A few brave men have managed to barracade Govanni in the room. Mr Jameson is screaming like a dog being cut open and gutted by a knife wielding butcher. These are the screams which will stay with people for long after the event, regardless of whether Manchester United win or not, or whether the business deal goes through afterwards. The dilemma of what to do when the ambulence crew get’s here is also a pressing concern. Govanni is clearly derranged.

In the end the solution presented itself when an armed policeman rushed the room, and shot Govanni as he approached, blood covered hands outstreched in the alarmed copper’s direction. Finally, as the match entered it’s final stages, peace returned to the savvy business suite. Downstairs meanwhile, it was salmon as usual.

Now, problem dealt with, we rejoin the match. Suddenly Arsenal score and it’s 3-1. With only 10 minutes remaining they score again and a come back is on the cards. Suddenly the Reds are on the back foot. Sure enough, on the stroke of extra time Arsenal equalise. A small group of United fans are not too pleased to hear the away supporters chanting and taunting them from just across the way, and so one bright spark has the idea of flinging a handfull of coins into the faces of chanting Arsenal supports, and a riot breaks out.

Having dealt with the madness of Govanni, the police are called to now to arrest the hooligans. The chief of police is in the executive suit, baring witness to the aftermath of it all. Without time to properly digest what horrors he is witnessing, the chief is called out of the room urgently and meets a collegue in charge of crowd control.

They shake hands and the police chief listens to the matter of fact description of crowd trouble unfolding in the north stand. The chief gives orders, he has many years of experience to call upon when it comes to crowd control.

And with a loud cough and shake of the hand, he dismisses his collegue to the scene of the unfolding riot. 

The group of coppers run down through the crowds towards the fighting. One after another a copper breaks up the fighting hordes, frightened kids look on in a mixture of wonder and bemusement. A line of policemen lock arms to create a wall between the rival crowd factions.

A short while later and suddenly a policeman is attacked. Then a hooligan holds up the stricken copper’s helmet in a gesture of defiance, left hand placed firmly on his heart, on his shirt, on the badge of Manchester United.

The immediate crowd are energised, chanting and taunting until the line of policemen can no longer hold back the warring Arsenal and United factions. It’s complete chaos and it’s about it get worse. The stricken copper’s limp body begins to jerk in agony and he spits blood. Lying on the floor, nobody really takes any notice of him. But with superhuman strength he lifts himself into the centre of the warring crowd as solidly as a rock and stares directly into the eyes of a football hooligan, who’s chanting and taunting stops dead upon seeing the policeman’s eyes and blood soaked neck. The policeman head butts the hooligan, knocking him to his knees, and then kicks him in the head. He dives down and plunges his hands into the hooligan’s chest, blood pours out and onto the stand.

The chairman has heard of the disaster in the executive room, and would like immediate answers. There isn’t a lot forthcoming, although the ambulance workers whilst removing the bodies were said to be feeling unwell, not surprising considering the horrific executive room scenes.

To be continued…

Have I been reading the papers recently? Nope.

But what’s this I hear? The Daily Express has launched a “Clean Up TV Crusade”, after the Jonathan Ross incident on the RADIO.

I guess now is as good a time as any to begin complaining en mass, what with all this terrible filth about like Dr Whore, Strictly Cum Dancing and the X-Factor. 

Well let’s not be cynical. In fact I quite like the sound of this crusade. My television is a bit dusty and could do with a good scrubbing down from some fleet street journalists. It’s just sitting there, I haven’t used it for months because its full of crap - a bit like the newspapers.

Anyway, The Express ran a headline so large it had to fit across two pages:

“Banish filth from our screens”

The Express is owned by a media boss named Richard Desmond. Maybe Richard Desmond, thee-who-pulls-the-strings, was watching the webcam video of the Russell Brand incident live as it happened in the studio and at that point became confused about that old blurry line between TV and radio. It’s a difficult one I know. Why, even yesterday I bought a radio from Currys thinking I was getting a 52 inch plasma screen.

Or maybe he was watching his own TV station, of which he’s the boss of…

Television X

“The broadest variety of filth, whether you are looking for fetish, lesbians, boy / girl, anal sex, amateur porn, first timers, big tits, small tits, Asian girls, blowjobs and celebrity sex”.

Now then, where to start?

Should the instigator of the big Clean Up TV crusade pick anal sex or blowjobs as his first target? Or should he cut down on the big tits and sack himself?

Apparently, the story continues…

The Express’s senstive readership of 12 people were spared the crudity of Television X in the TV listings on page 46.

The Fuck Ghetto becomes The Porn Ghetto.

Abi’s Pussy Party is restricted to a more concise but strangely less specific “Abi’s Party” (does it feature a cake?)

St Teenycum was listed simply as St Teeny.

I guess that’s a start. Congratulations The Express.

Ever fancied a beach holiday?

Why not start off near Bandar-e Mahshahr on the Iranian coast line. Pack your bucket and spade and walk westerly along the beach, before stepping onto 38 miles of Iraq’s only coast line, follow this round until you reach Kuwait (minding the shrapnel in the sand as you go) and there you will conclude your short holiday possibly dead and bathed in oil.

What a beautiful walk.

Did it have to be this way, and did that jock in the White House cause it?

Northern Ireland is quite a nice place now, but it never used to be much of a holiday destination back in the days of the troubles. Of course, back then there was a lot of ill-feeling and car bombing - but if you take away the reasons to fight, the bombs stop going off and the beach becomes more attractive.

That’s what Bush should have concentrated on in Iraq. By working on the pre-existing conflict between East and West right there in Iraq, America could have played devils advocate and strategically neutralised all the bad temper.

But instead they bulldozed the entire country and whatever terrorist feeling against America there was before September 2001 it certainly is multiplied now. That’s why jocks and tough guys shouldn’t run the world.

It’s now resembling Northern Ireland on a huge scale, and history will judge President Bush’s actions as being a complete catastrophe.

Since even before the war began I’ve wavered between two extremes. The war is right. The war is wrong. But now with hindsight I have decided that the war is a complete mess.

Unfortunately for President Obama, returning peace to the Middle East will be no day at the beach. 

I liked the idea of Dead Set on E4 written by Charlie Brooker.  A zombie film set in the Big Brother house. For a start, Davina McCall got it in the neck.

Well, how’s this for an idea:

Loads of zombies form groups which speak out against evil, such as anti-racism groups. But one by one the zombies begin to eat people. However their secret weapon is that nobody can attack the zombies as their groups stand against evil taboos like racism, so people who attack or say anything bad about them are seen as siding with racists and evil-doers.

Bernie Ecclestone is in trouble again, with the anti-racism zombies. The zombies are hounding his door and he’s about to be eaten.

Recently a Spanish website was shut down because it contained bitter rants against Lewis Hamilton and a game where fans of Fernando Alonso and Filipe Massa could place pins on a virtual track and pop Hamilton’s tyres. An animation, remember.

Some of the comments on the crappy hate filled website were deemed as being racist, which is disgusting.

But having heard the accusations by various newspapers that F1 has a major racism problem, good old Bernie analysed the situation with his impeccable logic and drew the correct conclusion.

Outrageous Indecent Incident 1) A handful of 6 or 7 Spanish fans painted themselves black and called themselves Lewis Hamilton’s family at a winter test session last year in Barcelona (it wasn’t nice to see)
Outrageous Indecent Incident 2) The recent anti-Hamilton website was shut down as soon as anyone in F1 knew about it.
Outrageous Indecent Incident 3) A lot less people would have known about it if the newspapers hadn’t gone over the top, damaging the image of F1 in the process. 

And Bernie rightly decided that ”No” F1 does not have a major problem with racism when you look at the wider picture, the incidents above are small and isolated, representing a tiny faction of views.

Also bare in mind that rather than sitting back and doing nothing, the FIA launched a One Race campaign against racism in the sport immediately after the first (and last) Spanish test track incident, one year ago.

Bernie sums it up rightly by saying that there is a strong rivalry between opposing sets of F1 fans, some using very outspoken, unpleasent comments, but a further very small subset of those using racist insults against their rival (which everyone knows is extremely disgusting, without needing to be told).

Bernie told it as it is but apparently he’s a racist now as well.

His condemnation wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t create a huge storm. He didn’t say F1 has a huge racism problem. He didn’t take drastic enough measures, like analysing people’s thoughts before they enter an F1 track to see if they’re thinking racist ones, or sacking every mechanic in the pitlane who didn’t lick Lewis Hamilton’s back and coo into his ears about how much they respect him.

Suddenly Bernie is in trouble because the hysterical anti-racism groups in the UK have got into a fuss.

It’s got to the point where unless the condemnation is way over the top, widespread, in every tabloid and results in several token resignations, the storm just continues to brew until the fuss (and publicity for the perpetrators) far outweighs the initial newsworthiness of the bad-deeds.

How bad does a public body which pretends to do useful things to protect us from things like racism have to be before it’s criticised and shut down? Likewise, the recent storm over the Italian Prime Minister’s joke about Obama being “tanned” and the BBC Radio 2 Brand & Ross furore are further examples of a cancerous politically correct brain washing that is out of control.

Forget brain dead Big Brother zombies, this new breed is much scarier.

A black president of America. It’s more than just skin deep.

And yet looking at the right wing Republican faithful during John McCain’s speech conceding victory to Obama, it shows that skin can tell you a lot.

Their grizzled faces, testosterone driven, hawkish, without kindness, without a glimmer of humility. The women were mostly classically beautiful, but share the harsh frown lines of the males. They laugh only to mock or bully. These people are probably right wing by birth, genetically fated to vote for a George Bush, or a John McCain. These are faces which love money, they love power, they want to hold onto what they’ve got and to hell with the have-nots.

And McCain told them thus: “Today I called Senator Obama to congratulate…” [the crowd boos loudly]

Okay - disappointed they may be but it’s in stark contrast to the victory podium crowds gathered for Obama in Chicago. 

Obama: “Today I received a gracious call from Senator John McCain, congratulating our victory” [crowd politely applauds McCain]

Obama ran a better campaign than McCain, for sure. But if McCain did nothing else right at least he was as gracious in defeat as the crowd at Obama’s speech were in victory.

Let’s get one thing straight - away from the political shenanigans and the disastrous effect his party has had on the world, John McCain is a decent man whom learnt about honour in the army, experienced hardship in Vietnam and has served his country to the full. This is a man, who is actually quite human, behind the terrible politics and an extreme following.

The best thing about McCain is that he respects and likes his formidable opponent. He recognises this moment for the occasion it is.

Against the backdrop of American history, to have an African American president is an astonishing result. A black F1 World Champion in Lewis Hamilton, and now President Obama. It’s been a good year for change.

Obama’s is a victory for good versus evil. It cannot be put more simply, or more truthfully than that. A victory over racism too. But do the disenfranchised, the poor, the naive, the young and those whom believe it to be a new dawn, have unrealistically high expectations of what Barack Obama can do?

He cannot walk on water. He’s a politician, and a human being, if a brilliant one at that - but being human means compromise. Nobody is perfect. Politics requires compromise. You cannot please all the people all the time or work miracles.

But it’s a good start. That Barack Obama is black, is more than skin deep. It will have a profound effect on the world. A glance at history tells you everything about why this is so important. The great surge of feeling towards this historic event, the feelings of great hope and change - maybe they will become self fulfilling?

But it’ll take more than just one man for it to come to pass.

There are untold dangers, even on a personal level for President Obama. I had an uneasy feeling whilst watching President Obama’s victory speech that he may be shot and assassinated at any moment. The bullet proof glass to left and right was not for nothing. 

And the hype is dangerous too. I hope people get their heads down, now. I hope they work through the world’s problems in an intelligent, constructive, diplomatic and straight forward way. I hope humans come out on top, and that the system doesn’t crush us under it’s economic problems, war, consumerism, greed, poverty and climate change.

I hope that the cult of celebrity and materialism has not won out over genuine substance (which President Obama appears to have in deluges), because many people have sincere hopes and dreams invested in President Obama, which must not be allowed to die in a smog of lies and power play.

Will President Obama’s government be as good for the world in practical terms as it is for our short term psychology and perception?

In the words of Obama himself:

“There is new energy to harness. A new spirit to summon”

It doesn’t sound much like right wing rhetoric, and some might say that rhetoric and words alone don’t make the world a better place.

But I think they’re wrong.

Words can make the world a better place at times like this. Even better I hope, will be President Obama’s actions… 

04.04

Barack Obama has been elected president.

The scenes on TV are wonderful. 

03.07

“Many stolen elections” says an actor at the Times Square studio in New York where Eddie Izzard is saying that “Obama will be great for the world”. I echo that but with a warning:

If President Obama disappoints, then many people’s faith in politics and in particular the Democrats and liberals, will be shattered for many many years.

02.42

In all certainty, Obama has won. The build up has been predictable and morose. I should be dancing naked in the streets at the joy of it all, but will instead go to bed relieved and happy. 

02.39

In the studio, a pundit calls his colleague a ‘wuss’ for not calling an overall Obama victory. The Republicans are clutching at straws. In about an hour we’ll know the good news.

Barack Obama is the next President of the United States. It feels good to say that. 

02.31

Rupert should indeed worry. Obama is walking it. All the important swing states have gone Obama’s way, and everybody is saying (with a distinct lack of drama) that Obama will go way beyond the target 270 electoral votes to win the election by a mile. 

02.29

Famously hateable but awesomely powerful right-wing media empire boss Rupert Murdoch (Fox, Sky, The Sun, shoddy MySpace) has criticised Barrack Obama over his lack of experience in business (Obama was a lawyer and has never run a company as an executive, let alone an entire country. Although Murdoch is not exactly Nobel prize material (or up to the standard of Richard Branson) he has doubts about Obama’s experience as an ‘executive’ as apposed to a very talented politician who can say the right things and come across the right way. He states that he likes him personally but feels that Obama will “take the country in a dangerous new direction” and bring back “protectionist laws”, which in English reads something like “Obama will stop me from making even more money and corrupting even more people with my shoddy media empire”. 

02.22

An astonishing argument erupts in the news room, which right now is dominated by men. During the all-night debate chaired by David Dimbleby a female reporter at the Republican party HQ, who was extremely poor, shouting into her mic with a shrill babble at warp speed, eyes darting and humourless face contorted as if stretched violently over a jagged, broken vase…incurs the wrath of a radical republican party ex-adviser in the studio, who attacked her with comments like ‘ignorant’ and interrupted her with a face of fury as if she was speaking nonsense. He was aggressive and unpleasant. Indeed she was mind-numbingly awful and over-stressed, mind racing on caffeine and running low on both knowledge and talent but the Republican is clearly in a unusually bad mood. I have no sympathy for either of them. Its awful to watch. Tonight should be about hope and change…

02.04

He may be losing the election but McCain has 50% of the popular vote so far. It goes to show how much blind faith some Americans have in right wing politics, even when it leads their country to economic ruin, a disastrous war, and a bumbling president who is universally disliked not just across the world but in the very states that are now voting in such great numbers for his right ring successor. 

01.10

Coverage otherwise excellent but what is the BBC feeding some of the female news reports in America? They babble like parrots on speed. Joey (first language: Taiwanese) has had to turn the subtitles on and I am getting a headache. 

01.04

It’s looking good for Obama. The swing states, closely contested, are turning in Obama’s favour according to early projections and Obama now leads McCain 84-34 in electoral votes. 270 are needed to win.

00.42

Nearly 1am already? Time is flying. But only two states have been projected by the TV networks so far. News is coming through much slower than expected, why are the people with their finger on the pulse of the voting being so cautious? Obama may be in for a nasty shock. But so far, so predictable: Kentucky has been projected as a win for John McCain. Yes, even though George Bush has fucked up the world and has a record-low 25% approval rating, an entire state can vote in great numbers for more of the same. It shows the power of culture, religion and upbringing over logic and intelligent judgement.

00.24

Barack Obama’s open podium in a city centre park, in contrast to the small private and secure podium for McCain, I hope is highly secure and that nothing untoward happens like an assassination attempt from a sniper. Unlikely I know, but always possible with such scenarios. JFK won’t be the last, and Obama is remarkably like a new JFK. A figure of hope and all that the gun touting repressive right ring factions hate.

23.31

Finally all the waffling is tailing off as we anticipate hard results. Obama’s victory podium is very grand indeed. With a backdrop of the Windy city of Chicago stretched out behind, majestic open spaces with a smattering of skyscrapers. John McCain meanwhile is in a small hotel conference room in Arizona. That’s hope for you, Republican style. 

21.00

BBC news are re-running a quote from Sarah Palin: “I can see Russia from my house!”

20.25 

American friends of Joey are updating their status on Facebook - all will vote for Obama. Who needs the poll tracker!?

20.10

McCain has delivered a rousing speech about ‘fighting’. George Bush was a fighter, also. As a result his legacy is so toxic that McCain has avoided being pictured with him since May, such is Bush’s unpopularity rating.

Apparently we’ll hear the verdict loud and clear by 1am tonight.

20.05

Sarah Palin has cast her vote in Alaska, but refused to reveal who she voted for. She screeched for a while and then went off to shoot some moose. The Republican’s aren’t a sharp shot, as Dick Cheney’s hunting accident proved, let’s hope nothing goes wrong. She is after all, easy enough to mistake for a moose.

20.00

First post of the evening. I am not worried. Obama is way ahead in the polls. There are 220 million Americans eligible to vote and turnout is expected to be record breaking. It’s estimated that 130 million will vote, but until the results come in you can only speculate. 

For all we know a hidden sect of 40 million swamp monsters might vote in their millions for McCain, plunging the world back on course to armageddon.