Why, if I was English, I’d vote Labour.


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Jeremy Corbyn is a beautifully stuck record.

His groove is about loving people and their predicaments.

I’m fortunate.  I have none (predicaments – for now).

Theresa May is a horrible devious monster who only wants to do well for her people.

The rich.

So I should vote for her. (I’m not rich but I am not poor.)

Fuck that.

Why would you vote for a horrible devious monster?

In Scotland we are OK.; we have the SNP.

A proper Social Democrat party.  So we don’t need Jeremy.

You English, need to vote for humans, not monsters.

But why?

To rid the world of this scabrous monstrosity that is the Tory party.

The best thing in Berlin. If you visit in April/May you must go.


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This is amazing.  It’s an old bank and is due for demolition in early June.

Somehow a 165 strong, mainly street art, art collective (including the rather splendidly named Ria Wank) has acquired the rights to convert every single room in the building (all 108 of them including toilets and stairwells) into art forms.

Each room is essentially a canvas and many of them are wondrous things.  Every inch of the building is painted or adapted in some way and will be demolished (along with the art) in June.

It’s called the Haus and you’ll find it at 68/69 Nürnbergerstrasse 10787 Berlin

We queued fior 2 hours but it was worth it.

Raw: Movie review.


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Wow.  This is not for everyone.

I am reminded of the disappointment I felt seeing movies like Crash and High Rise (Both JG Ballard stories).  Like Raw they promised to be challenging and thought provoking, but both were vacuous nonsense.

This is anything but vacuous.

A case study in great acting, great tension, great music, revulsion and complete and utter oddness.

It’s a directorial debut by Julia Ducournau which is something of a coincidence because I very much enjoyed Alice Lowe’s horror debut, Prevenge, earlier this year.

It seems there is a female bloodlust going on in movieland just now and the two would sit as excellent companion pieces, although there are fewer laughs in this.

If blood puts you off give this a wide berth.  If genuine but well developed antiestablishment hokum (it is horror hokum at then of the day) is your thing you will love this.

Think early Cronenburg,

Think early Alice Lowe.  (She’s only done early so far.)

Think Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange.

And think the best of Lars Von Trier (Kingdom specifically.)

 

 

Lost false teeth are no laughing matter…


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My blog, Is this Yours?, has turned up another mystery.

Half a set of gnashers, unencumbered by their owners.

It reminds me of a story about my pal, Ian Sutherland, who once lost his teeth when he sneezed out the window of his delivery van half way down the A1 on the way to Berwick on Tweed.  His choppers lie, waiting to be discovered, on a verge to this day I suppose.

Maybe these are his?

I think it unlikely though, unless deliberate relocation has been actioned by a stranger.

So, who lost theirs on Dalmeny Beach?

Indeed was it on the beach itself that the loss initiated?

Were they vomited down a loo in Fraserburgh and made their way down the East coast of Scotland on tidal streams?

Were they the result of a violent orgasm in the darkness on that very beach, immediately interrupted by an approaching stranger as two middle aged adults sought gratification and had to scarper before they could retrieve their conjugal misappropriation?

Perhaps they simply slipped out of a mouth, unnoticed, during a gentle stroll.

They may have been overboarded by a passing trawler in high seas.

Are they male?

Are they female?

I’ve tried them on, but my own clackers made estimating size a tricky exercise and, besides, they tasted a little brackish.

Do we have any forensic dentists willing to carbon date them for me?

Can the media help me here?