Of course, like many others, I am referring to Jan Moir. Star journalist of the Daily Mail! If you haven’t yet read the article she emitted from the darkest corner of the Daily Mail dungeons, allow me to summarise.
She speculates, without a scrap of evidence, that Stephen Gately’s tragic death was unnatural. She even goes on to contemplate that damaging habits could be to blame for his untimely death. The only damaging habit I’m noticing here Jan, is the ever increasing trend for unfounded and libellous journalism from your “wonderful” publication. Despite post-mortem and toxicity reports telling us that the death was of natural causes, she’s sticking to her guns. Being the great detective that she is, she sees things us mere mortal cannot perceive. Things like bogus stories and pixies.
Within minutes of the article being posted, thanks to the power of Twitter and other social networking sites, her words were being read in disbelief by thousands of unsuspecting net users. Now we all know that the Daily Mail has their own agenda and as a result the term Daily Mail reader has become a rather tawdry term. But this is a new low, even for them.
Now I was going to do a blog entry today about something vacuous, like having a fast lane on our pavements or why grapes are more expensive than wine. But fortunately, Jan Moir, has provided me with fodder of the highest calibre. And fodder is a rather appropriate word for her work.
The few minutes I spent reading her “editorial” are minutes of my life I will never get back, so Ms Moir’s list of crimes slowly grows. She has killed a little bit of my soul and any smidgen of empathy I have for Daily Mail journos. I despaired on reading the tripe that would not even grace the pages of gossip magazines alongside titles such as “a smurf eat my baby”.
Unfortunately for Robbie, Amy, Kate, Whitney and Britney, it seems as though they have been pencilled in for unusual deaths as well. Jan says that it’s not a ghoulish thing to anticipate this. Well perhaps its not if you happened to be the love child of Hitler and Stalin, but for most people, that seems improbable. Personally, and this is just me, predicting the unusual deaths of people I do not personally know, comes rather low on the list of things I plan to do. For me, it’s just above inhaling the Sahara desert through a straw and just below believing Scientology to be real.
Ironically, Jan Moir should probably add herself to that list of death by mysterious circumstances. Or get herself a crack team of bodyguards, because I have the feeling that a fair few people will not be happy having read the article.
Maybe we should pity Jan Moir. She has a dark soul and has no concept of love, kindness or journalistic integrity. Plus, with the power of Twitter and Stephen Fry behind us, come next week, she’ll likely be out of a job anyway.
Well, rant over. Thanks Jan, its good to write, isn’t it?
Friday 16 October 2009
Friday 9 October 2009
Batman Arkham Asylum Review
The follow written garble is a review penned by myself for the website digitallyblonde.com
A lot has been said about Batman Arkham Asylum recently. Potential game of the year, was one thing I’d heard. The game being shorter than Frodo was another. Ultimately I parted with my “hard earned” cash to see what all the fuss was about.
It didn’t take much playing to realise how good this game is. The loose breakdown of the story is that The Joker breaks free in Arkham Asylum to wreak havoc in his unique and jovial manner. The success of this game revolves around The Joker. Voiced by Mark Hamill, better known to me and you as Luke Skywalker. “Luke” is quite the expert with video game vocals, and this game is his masterclass. In fact all vocal talents throughout the game are well done and really make the game a more complete experience. The visuals and audio make this very atmospheric and feels like a proper mad house. How come all movie asylums look like Arkham? Surely it’s not the ideal place to rehabilitate the most deranged criminal masterminds in the world. Just a thought!
The actual game play is very solid. You get to do just about anything Batman can do in the movies. In a room full of armed guards you must use your wits and patience to strategically eliminate your foes. Staying in the shadows you can use the full array of bat-gadgetry, including the classic Batarang and Batclaw. I take great pleasure swinging about the rafters from the, albeit conveniently placed, gargoyles, preying on my victims. Parts of the game require you to use a “detective mode” which gives a sort of x-ray view and allows you to see things hidden to the naked eye and solve various puzzles. But it also allows you to see the mental condition and heart rate of all the bad buggars roaming the asylum. As you pick off the asylum inmates, the others start getting more jumpy, and end up literally shooting their own shadows. If you’re not going the stealthy route, the more direct and gung-ho hand to hand approach is another appealing option. The so-called “free flowing” combat allows you to swing from target to target with thumping satisfaction.
If you’ve seen any clips of the game, you’ll know it looks and sounds good. But having a slightly obsessive attention to detail, it’s the small things that make this game for me. I noticed that as the game progresses, you slowly pick up more cuts and scrapes on your suit. Not that it has any effect on the game, but it’s the attention to detail that impresses me. The asylum, being surrounded by water, provides a few opportunities to “pop for a swim”. Whereas in some games, if you fall in the water, you’ll die (not very superhero-ish really). Should you unfortunately drop into the water, a very short cutscene ensues showing a slightly more miffed Batman climbing out looking a bit more soggy. You cannot really die in this game. Should you fail or get knocked out, regular checkpoints will ensure you don’t have to do too much again.
As far as the game being to short, I have to agree. I completed the story mode within two days of average playing. That being said, there are plenty of extras to find, provided by the Riddler. 240 to be exact. Plus there are various challenges to unlock as you solve the Riddler’s puzzles.
For the die hard fans, there are plenty of familiar faces like Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, Scarecrow as well as a few others. As you progress through the game and find hidden objects, you’ll unlock bios chock full of information on various characters. Plus there are plenty of nods to absent characters like Two Face and Mr Freeze hidden throughout the asylum. And of course the Batmobile and Batwing also make their appearances in the game.
The game is well paced, and in my opinion, has great replay value. The game is so engrossing and you’ll hardly notice the hours passing you by until you look at a clock and realise its 3AM and you’ve been playing five hours straight. It looks and sounds brilliant and the gameplay is superb. Plus listening to Mark Hamill’s Joker is a real treat. Lets put it this way, you’ll probably never look at Luke Skywalker in the same way again. I’d strongly recommend you to give the game a go; you can quite easily get the demo on Xbox Live or PSN. A real contender for game of the year.
Monday 5 October 2009
Verbally Defunct
I have a few bones to pick with a multitude of things today (as ever). Firstly, who the hell is picking bones? What does that mean exactly? Oooh I’ll have that one please, yes the fibula bone, lovely! Some sayings just seem to make me tick, and not in a good way. More like a knee jerk reaction to someone saying something absurdly nonsensical. The more I think about it, the more spring to mind. Who ever swung a cat around by the tail to judge how spacious a room is? I’m sure the RSPCA has “bone to pick” with that one. I know many sayings have an age old reason for being said. For example, giving someone the “third degree”, as in being interrogated, dates back as a tradition of initiation into the “third degree” of Freemasons. Yeah, check me out, I’ve been reading books rather than browsing Wikipedia. That being said, I’m sure many people dispute the accuracy of Dan Brown novels. It still doesn’t really excuse the absurdity and irrelevance of most of the proverbs that get spouted today.
Topic change! Is it just me, or when you get annoyed at something (usually inanimate) do you start arguing or hitting it? The other day, I stubbed my toe on my door, and instantly launched into a rather blue tirade at this rectangular piece of wood staring smugly back at me. I even punched it! It didn’t even cross my mind that this was my fault and maybe, just maybe, I should pay a little more attention to where I walk. Also, it’s an inanimate object, you cannot win. Unless like me, you acknowledge its guilty silence as an admission of guilt, and claim the moral victory.
This doesn’t deter me from speaking my mind though. In fact I frequently partake in personal dialogues with myself. I know a dialogue entails the participation of two people, but I handle this obstacle by arguing with myself in variety of accents, often bordering on the stereotypes of racism and plain stupidity. But is that any better than talking to animals? Which for the record, I also indulge myself in every now and then. It’s not as bad talking to dogs; they sort of understand some of the noise emanating from your facial orifice. But talking to any other animal seems largely redundant. You can direct any combination of words towards a cat and they’ll look back at you with a look of bemusement, thinking, “When are you going to feed me?”. Polly want a cracker? You’re crackers if you think Polly has any clue about what’s going on. Don’t get me started on any other animals, we all know Horse Whispering is clap-trap and a bad idea for a movie.
Every day, things happen that infuriate my inner being. I should really start jotting them down before they escape my memory like Steve McQueen from a Nazi POW camp. But maybe I should start being a bit more positive in my cynicism, if that’s even possible. My dilemma is it’s often the little things that niggle at me. If you put a fork in the knife section of the cutlery drawer, just you wait for my mental implosion. Not that I’ll say anything to you directly. I’ll wait until you’re out of earshot and argue amongst myself for a bit.
Yesterday I saw a group of young looking ASBO types walking and eating from KFC bags. Bit by bit, they progressively went through their meals, discarding pieces of trash onto the pavement in front of me. My rage was palpable, especially considering the number of bins they passed by. Now I had an issue. Whether to confront these blatant idiotholes and show them the error of their ways, or to bottle it up and bite my tongue, so I could tell others about it later. I may not be good at maths, but despite them being mostly younger and smaller than me, the odds would still be stacked against me should they be unwilling to play a part in a grown up sharing of opinions.
Needless to say, I’m blogging about it now, so you probably have a good idea of what choice I made.
I know this entry has bounced back and forth a bit, but that’s my mental progression unfortunately. For continuity’s sake I’ll go back to the beginning and finish on one last stupid and pointless saying.
“It goes without saying”.....
Topic change! Is it just me, or when you get annoyed at something (usually inanimate) do you start arguing or hitting it? The other day, I stubbed my toe on my door, and instantly launched into a rather blue tirade at this rectangular piece of wood staring smugly back at me. I even punched it! It didn’t even cross my mind that this was my fault and maybe, just maybe, I should pay a little more attention to where I walk. Also, it’s an inanimate object, you cannot win. Unless like me, you acknowledge its guilty silence as an admission of guilt, and claim the moral victory.
This doesn’t deter me from speaking my mind though. In fact I frequently partake in personal dialogues with myself. I know a dialogue entails the participation of two people, but I handle this obstacle by arguing with myself in variety of accents, often bordering on the stereotypes of racism and plain stupidity. But is that any better than talking to animals? Which for the record, I also indulge myself in every now and then. It’s not as bad talking to dogs; they sort of understand some of the noise emanating from your facial orifice. But talking to any other animal seems largely redundant. You can direct any combination of words towards a cat and they’ll look back at you with a look of bemusement, thinking, “When are you going to feed me?”. Polly want a cracker? You’re crackers if you think Polly has any clue about what’s going on. Don’t get me started on any other animals, we all know Horse Whispering is clap-trap and a bad idea for a movie.
Every day, things happen that infuriate my inner being. I should really start jotting them down before they escape my memory like Steve McQueen from a Nazi POW camp. But maybe I should start being a bit more positive in my cynicism, if that’s even possible. My dilemma is it’s often the little things that niggle at me. If you put a fork in the knife section of the cutlery drawer, just you wait for my mental implosion. Not that I’ll say anything to you directly. I’ll wait until you’re out of earshot and argue amongst myself for a bit.
Yesterday I saw a group of young looking ASBO types walking and eating from KFC bags. Bit by bit, they progressively went through their meals, discarding pieces of trash onto the pavement in front of me. My rage was palpable, especially considering the number of bins they passed by. Now I had an issue. Whether to confront these blatant idiotholes and show them the error of their ways, or to bottle it up and bite my tongue, so I could tell others about it later. I may not be good at maths, but despite them being mostly younger and smaller than me, the odds would still be stacked against me should they be unwilling to play a part in a grown up sharing of opinions.
Needless to say, I’m blogging about it now, so you probably have a good idea of what choice I made.
I know this entry has bounced back and forth a bit, but that’s my mental progression unfortunately. For continuity’s sake I’ll go back to the beginning and finish on one last stupid and pointless saying.
“It goes without saying”.....
5 Years in the Making
“Simon Says Don't Do Drugs. Those are my sound words of advice to anyone stupid enough to listen to my advice.
I'm moving into my new house for university next year, and I still haven't packed.
Instead I'm on here, writing this drivel that only I will ever read. But despair not, this Blog may become famous one day, and be heralded as one of the greatest pieces of literature of our time alongside "Lord Of the Rings", "Harry potter" and "Football-Its a funny game” by Kevin Keegan". And the day that happens, my friends, I will eat my hat.
But first I'll need to buy a hat.”
A long time has past since I wrote that little parable hovering above these words. Not sure the exact dates, as I was too young and naïve to bother dating anything (including girls). But the year was 2004, the month, September-ish.
Things clearly haven’t changed much in the past five years, because I still procrastinate when there are vastly more important things to do. Things like, thwart this mad hunger in my stomach by making something to eat. But that can wait a little while longer, back to September 2004.
I was about to commence my life at university. I didn’t apply for university through the proper channels, instead I got accepted into Uni two weeks (that’s right count them, two, it won’t take long) before the start of term. Everything became a mad rush; I was totally unprepared for what was ahead. I didn’t even have basic living stuffs to live with, so a quick trip to ASDA was in order, ransacking their Smartprice crockery section. All this despite the fact I’d never really created my own culinary delicacies other than toast, crumpets or other bread based products. And for all the years of catering for myself, I can still barely cook.
Well University swiftly arrived and the following three years could probably be described as the best three years of my life. It is scary how fast they past me by. Many fond memories as well as many regrets. But I wouldn’t have given it up for anything. I’m afraid I’m getting too sentimental and sloppy, so its time to fast forward. I can cover the mushy details in a more humorous light at a later date.
Spin on a further five years to me sitting here, writing this. It only took me five years to actually finish my first blog entry, not that it really covered much anyway. The next one will be a much swifter. For future entries I can promise nothing but a surreal commentary on my life and a significant amount of vitriol directed towards my ever increasingly worrying collection of pet peeves, of which there are many. Time to eat! Something bland no doubt. Bread products seem most likely.
PS I still haven’t bought a hat.
02 October 2009
I'm moving into my new house for university next year, and I still haven't packed.
Instead I'm on here, writing this drivel that only I will ever read. But despair not, this Blog may become famous one day, and be heralded as one of the greatest pieces of literature of our time alongside "Lord Of the Rings", "Harry potter" and "Football-Its a funny game” by Kevin Keegan". And the day that happens, my friends, I will eat my hat.
But first I'll need to buy a hat.”
A long time has past since I wrote that little parable hovering above these words. Not sure the exact dates, as I was too young and naïve to bother dating anything (including girls). But the year was 2004, the month, September-ish.
Things clearly haven’t changed much in the past five years, because I still procrastinate when there are vastly more important things to do. Things like, thwart this mad hunger in my stomach by making something to eat. But that can wait a little while longer, back to September 2004.
I was about to commence my life at university. I didn’t apply for university through the proper channels, instead I got accepted into Uni two weeks (that’s right count them, two, it won’t take long) before the start of term. Everything became a mad rush; I was totally unprepared for what was ahead. I didn’t even have basic living stuffs to live with, so a quick trip to ASDA was in order, ransacking their Smartprice crockery section. All this despite the fact I’d never really created my own culinary delicacies other than toast, crumpets or other bread based products. And for all the years of catering for myself, I can still barely cook.
Well University swiftly arrived and the following three years could probably be described as the best three years of my life. It is scary how fast they past me by. Many fond memories as well as many regrets. But I wouldn’t have given it up for anything. I’m afraid I’m getting too sentimental and sloppy, so its time to fast forward. I can cover the mushy details in a more humorous light at a later date.
Spin on a further five years to me sitting here, writing this. It only took me five years to actually finish my first blog entry, not that it really covered much anyway. The next one will be a much swifter. For future entries I can promise nothing but a surreal commentary on my life and a significant amount of vitriol directed towards my ever increasingly worrying collection of pet peeves, of which there are many. Time to eat! Something bland no doubt. Bread products seem most likely.
PS I still haven’t bought a hat.
02 October 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)