Jah Jah Dub

Friday, February 27, 2004

Ha! I've been moved onto the 9:30 - 18:00 shift. Yvonne thought it might be easier for me. Peach.

My hands are bleeding from these fucking paper cuts. My job is so macho.

Team meeting yesterday, we were all told off for turning up late and absenteeism. From now on, not getting in on time more than once in a week will lead to disciplinary action. Or, as I prefer to think of it, lie-in-Friday has been created.“I know it’s not all of you, but some of you are taking the piss.” I have been late every day for two weeks. Apart from last Wednesday when I couldn’t be bothered going to work. And I was late today. Phoned in at 8:15 from outside my house, “Yvonne, this is unbelievable. My bus has broken down. Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve left loads of time to spare today though, wanted to get in early. I’ll jump on the next one. Yeah, might be a few minutes late. Shouldn’t be too bad though.” Brilliant.

I've just had an induction to the building, four months after I started working here. Obviously it was always going to be exruciating, but it didn't disappoint. The first woman to speak introduced herself and then made us do the same. "But to make it more fun, I'm going to throw this into the group, you say who you are then throw it to someone else." It was a toy pink pig. By this stage I was hyperventilating. There were about thirty of us - cleaners, security guards, post room employees and temps. You can imagine how fun we found it. It took ages.

Favourite bit: "So, any questions?" as a question mark revolves on the screens behind. Everyone remains absolutely silent. She pauses, babbles a bit and then says, "Well, if there are no more questions then I'll pass you on to..."

Nothing freezes my heart more than the words I'm about to type (except perhaps, "I've got a joke for you", soon to be covered on the Correct Opinion), but I'm breaking my own rules here: I had a really weird dream last night. I dreamt I was being hunted down by the Terminator and D. from work. I was still sending files out from some mysterious house, some of them to a creature which I think was animated and drawn by Picasso. Four heads and four feet. It was fucking terrifying.

Got a second interview for that Capitalist Foot Soldier job. Don't know when as yet.

OK. I have some more stuff to write.


Thursday, February 26, 2004

I think I need to face it, this site jumped the shark months back. If I continue with The Correct Opinion (which is by no means certain, it's just new and shiny at the moment) and do the occasional cartoon then I'm not sure what Jah Jah Dub will be for... I'm not going to say I'm definitely giving it up, I've been stung like that before, but I think I'll be winding it down. We'll see.


Wednesday, February 25, 2004


S: I will give you my mobile number and you can text me after the football.
A: Ummm... I don't have any credit on my phone at the moment.
S: Next time you'll need a different excuse.
A: I know.

There's a Mississippi paddle steamer outside called "Dixie Queen". All my Tom Sawyer-inspired dreams are coming true.

If I do get another job (no news on that interview by the way. They haven't made a decision yet. Of course my recruitment consultant didn't bother calling me to tell me. Messages left - 3) I might actually have to bother shaving in the mornings. Harsh.


Monday, February 23, 2004

I have started (yet) another blog. The link's on the right there.

What sort of a monster would call their child Aubrey? (Current favourite name: Aureliano. NB this is a name for me. I'm not thinking of adopting a child. I'm not mental.)

Ambitions that I may eventually realise, you never know:

1) Speak Spanish
2) Learn to draw properly
3) Take up the piano again
4) Tai Chi
5) Adopt a monkey

Things I'd quite like to be able to do but know deep down I'll never get round to:

1) The tango
2) Kung Fu
3) Carve small animals out of wood
4) Speak Russian
5) Tap dance


Sunday, February 22, 2004

I've just remembered that "Chain Reaction" by Diana Ross was one of the first songs I ever put on a jukebox. How extraordinary.

No! Ricardo's walking out. Say it isn't so.

Just realised I was pouring a glass of wine and listening to "All By Myself". Shocking. At least it's a downloaded Frank Sinatra version and I'm enjoying my own company (the best there is) so it's not too Bridget Jones. And I have left the house today. It's ok... it's ok...


Saturday, February 21, 2004

Football post: do this tomorrow. How you have got over your Arsenal-aversion.

*All* the women just curled around James. Lizzie from Wife Swap fed him a strawberry with her mouth.

A golden age.

Uri's walked out. Craig and Nick hugged. Despite myself I feel quite moved.


Friday, February 20, 2004

OK, so I've just tried to download some Barbershop Quartet stuff (there are four of us in our house), and The Man keeps busting me with static. Excuse me, The Man, how many Barbershop sales do you lose through downloading?

So I'm going to Malmo this summer. Naturally. I've been meaning to go for a while. If I don't do it, smack me in my big fat face.

Remember when MTV used to show music videos?

You do realise that 5 is the best channel on televison? Science and arts programming at primetime (Brian Sewell, no less) and the best reality/mindless tv. No fucking around, no "sociological experiments", just grade A entertainment.

Always with the Echo and the Bunnymen, always with the Echo and the Bunnymen...

Paranoia. This really is the best programme ever.

Uri, Nick and Ricardo... spoons on the television... excellent.

First to leave Back to Reality? Sarah, surely...

What wouldn't I give for my old Nick Bateman poster?

John Lydon gave his fee for "I'm a Celebrity..." to the Tacugama Chimp Sanctuary. Can the man do any wrong?

Answering the same questions but saying I don't drink tea (I'm an occaisonal tea drinker) makes me this:

You're Loosely Based!

by Storey Clayton

While most people haven't heard of you, you're a really good and
interesting person. Rather clever and witty, you crack a lot of jokes about the world
around you. You do have a serious side, however, where your interest covers the homeless
and the inequalities of society. You're good at bringing people together, but they keep
asking you what your name means.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

OK, I'm scared now:

You're Prufrock and Other Observations!

by T.S. Eliot

Though you are very short and often overshadowed, your voice is poetic
and lyrical. Dark and brooding, you see the world as a hopeless effort of people trying
to impress other people. Though you make reference to almost everything, you've really
heard enough about Michelangelo. You measure out your life with coffee spoons.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

This is from about 5 questions. I think very short is a bit harsh.


You're Madagascar!

Lots of people don't really know anything about you, making you
buried treasure of the rarest kind.  You love nature, and could get lost in it
whenever possible.  You're remote and exotic, and the few people who know you
value whatever they share with you a great deal.  For some reason, you really
like the word "lemur".

the Country Quiz at the href="">Blue Pyramid

Who knew?

D. is now insisting on showing me her rash. Luckily I just got the neck, not the "itchy laps" she's been complaining about all week.

Ah! Of course, half term. The queue for the London Dungeon stretches all the way to Borough High Street. I feel I should let people know how rubbish it is, but for all I know these morons like Madame Tussaud's too.

So, the job interview then... Seemed OK. More informal than I'd expected. I made them laugh (at me) which may or may not be a good thing. I'll find out on Monday if I get a second interview.

And of course I was late.

I tried yesterday to record "I'm not the man I used to be" by the Fine Young Cannibals. The backing track was very quiet though, and you could sort of hear Roland behind me. Also, I think I was getting a bit carried away and obsessive. I tried twice, was about to go for a third, then stopped myself before things went too far and I started recording from a sandpit, staying in bed for two years and acquiring a brother who would get mysteriously linked to the Manson family.


Thursday, February 19, 2004

Make sure you have a hankie ready for this one:

Don't Cry Daddy

Me again:

Twenty Four Hours from Tulsa

And here's Martin picking the hardest song he could find.


And there's more. I really don't know how many of these I'm going to stick up, or how long it'll last for. Long term readers will recognise the pattern of sudden, annoying innovation, briefly flogged then permanently abandoned.

Come Fly with Me - listening to this again it seems I had particular problems hitting the note on "Come..." No rerecording though. First takes. Like in the old days.

S: You know the song “You are beautiful”?
A: Yes. Christina Aguilera.
S: Ok, yes. You see the video clip?
A: Ummm… Yes. Yeah, with the anorexic girl.
S: I think it is cool. They are all so ugly. The anorexic, the gays, the hysteric…

Of *course* My Way.

Of *course* Shake Your Bon Bon.

Just sold a diamond to a couple of bickering Israelis. Started laughing as I was signing.

Man: What is it?
A: Oh, nothing... just that I'm clearly selling this for less than its value.
M: What do you mean? We agreed the price, we're being very fair with you.
A: Of course you are. There's an ever so slight asymmetry of information though. You know what you're buying, I don't know what I'm selling. I'm enjoying the good cop/bad cop thing too. It's fine though, I don't mind. I would be the same if I was buying something from some wet-behind-the-ears kid. I can't be bothered haggling anymore.
M: Good. So we have a deal then?
A: Yeah, no problems.

It was in cash, mind.

After messing about with internets since they were made of string and brown paper, Leila has finally decided to call it a day. Less than a week now until lovemaus is no more. Adíos muchacha, you will be missed.

Sorely disappointed last night that I couldn't do any '50s Sinatra. The Karaoke button won't drop out the vocal. I was thinking about singing accompanied only with the sound of a spoon beating time on a saucepan. However, that takes it perilously close to a joke. And where's the fun in that?

Any requests?


Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Kelvin's version of "Cars" is back in business too. And it's brilliant.

What's that? Jah Jah Dub getting a bit cozy nowadays? Think again my friends. Here are some earnest versions of songs recorded with a microphone and the Karaoke button on Martin's Hi Fi. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, Born to Run. (Note the way I spectacularly fuck up the greatest 1-2-3-4 in rock history.) You will listen. And you will feel uncomfortable at the lack of irony.

You may also like:

Just Like Heaven - Martin singing his favourite song.
Pretty in Pink - Yes. Yes that is me.
Dancing in the Dark - Martin. Brilliant.


Tuesday, February 17, 2004

S: Ah! Stationery! I find the word! I look at stationary but that was the bad word. Why you laugh?
A: Just that you're so excited about it.
S: If you think I excited now, you should see me in... other situations...
A: I sure shouldn't.

My sweet lord. Numanoid that he is, Kelvin has done his own version of Cars. I can't get at it from work, but I can only imagine that it's remarkable. Check it out and let me know.

Oh yeah, Valentine's Day. Have a good one? My house contains three eligible batchelors. Our total card haul? None. Does anyone send unsolicited "Be My Valentine... please," messages any more? It's a shame, that's all. No, of course I didn't send any. Yes, I realise that I have no right to complain. I'm not complaining. Imagine if I'd sent some out though... I would still have received none. That would have been harsh.

Lazily preparing for Friday by reading this. It sure is boring. And Dion Friedland, whoever you may be, maybe I don't want the mystery removed. Perhaps I want hedge funds to retain their beautifully enigmatic nature.

The lifts at work are like miniature Underground trains: edgy silences; bowed heads; no eye contact; surreptitious check outs of one’s own reflection; loud conversations between intimates creating fascinated curiosity and acute discomfort in equal measure.

And all the time I think of hitting the "Open" button every time the doors start to close, as if to help out a constant stream of invisible newcomers. And I start to smile. And that’s taboo. And I have to stifle my choked laughter.

A few days too late, but surely the best love song ever written is Adore by Prince? A selection from the lyrics: (Points to anyone who ever says these things. Especially if you're white.)

I ain't funkin' just 4 kicks, no
This condition I got is crucial, crucial baby
U could say that I'm a terminal case
U could burn up my clothes
Smash up my ride, (well maybe not the ride)
But I got 2 have your face
All up in the place
I'd like 2 think that I'm a man of exquisite taste
A hundred percent Italian silk imported Egyptian lace
But nothin' baby, I said nothin' baby could compare
2 your lovely face

Fact: A Google Search for "inevitable humiliation" (you needed the quotation marks) used to bring this site up on the first page of results. And now it doesn't. Shame.

If anyone's wondering, I will do more cartoons, I'm just extremely lazy. I have some ideas, but don't want to just trot out umpteen illustrations of minor humiliations in front of girls. Also, I'm much better at starting things than keeping them up. I'll probably do some tomorrow night.

For the love of all things holy. Now she's singing that filthy Black Eyed Peas one. Where is the love? Is that it? She could at least sing Hanson's classic, "Where's the love?" It's impossible to ruin such quality source material.

D: Have you heard that song, Alistair, "Hey you, heeeeey you"?
A: Don't think so.
D: It's by Outkast.
A: Oh. Hey Ya. Yes. Yes I have heard it a couple of times.
D: You have? How come.

Worked out that watching Back to Reality is like having a dream. "Yeah, last night I dreamt that Nick Bateman was in this house with that one from Wife Swap, Lizzie, James Hewitt and Rik Waller. Oh yeah, and that guy from the Salon, Ricardo. And Kerry Katona came to visit. And they had to eat worms. And before that some of them had to judge people who had been on Pop Idol doing terrible auditions. Remember the guy who did Eye of the Tiger? Yeah, him. What was the point of the show? I don't remember. They just seemed to fuck with them a lot, like shaking a jam jar full of stick insects. I don't think there was a point. It was cool though."

Martin described it as like watching Real Madrid play. Suddenly a player pops up that you completely forgot was on the pitch. "Oh yeah! Ronaldo! Receiving a cross from Figo!" Similarly, "Oh yeah! Maureen from Driving School! Receiving a cake from Jade Goody!"

Rik Waller. Candy and baby and all that, but he's now so fat he has to sleep sprawled on the sofa as the Back to Reality beds won't take his thirty one stone bulk. Yesterday they could win a hot tub if three of them ate Wichiti (sp?) grubs. First volunteer? Yep. Of course it was. I feel bad mocking him, partly because it's so easy and obvious, but mainly as he's clearly going to die young and everyone will be all like, "who's laughing now, funny man?" I recognise this risk I run, and will leave off him. Once the show's finished.


Monday, February 16, 2004

Current favourite songs to turn up loud and shout along to:

1) Thunder Road - The Boss
2) All of Me - Frank Sinatra
3) Rebel Rebel - The Dame
4) Raspberry Beret - Prince
5) Welcome to the Jungle - Guns n' Roses

Excellent, it's a female interviewer. This week I shall be having a haircut, whitening my teeth and practicing my Cary Grant voice.

Have an interview for that job this Friday. In Mayfair, no less.

Temporarily delivered from sleep deprivation, I find my mood today relatively positive. I would stop shy of describing myself as "perky", but certainly more... engaged. ("So, Susanna, you went to Walkabout on Saturday? Never had a bad night in a Walkabout. Did they play Love Shack? Oh, of course you do! 'Got me a car, it's as big as a whale...' Yeah! That one. They always play it.") Adíos, trolley-pushing somnambulist; buenas días, Craig Phillips.

Think I've taken this whole smoker thing about as far as I can now, it's becoming increasingly dreary. It may be time to move onto something else, possibly lollipops.

Other plans for this week:

- Sell a diamond
- Practice flicking cards into a fedora
- Keep up my recent weight loss and squeeze another hole out of my belt. Aim = to look like Iggy Pop
- Find a meal more nutritious than steamed broccoli and rice, but without going over my fifty pence dinner budget.

How easy is it to record things onto a computer with a microphone? I really have no idea about this. Don't be surprised if there are versions of me singing Thunder Road on here before long. The more I think about it, the greater the opportunities for embarrassing myself. I am staring into the abyss, ladies and gentlemen, and chances are high that I may fling myself off this creaking precipice.

Go hard or go home.

In conversation with Martin this morning I realised that I do actually have an ambition: to appear on one of those "I love..." shows with "Alistair Johnston - Cultural Commentator" below my big fat face. I think that two years is a reasonable time frame to make my dream a reality. I have miles of old rope, I just need to find a buyer.

D is looking again at stories about gay marriage. She has just shrieked at a photo of two women kissing.

D: I know you have gay friends, but that is too much.
A: …
D: It is a sin, you know? Do you read the bible?
A: No.
D: You should. You should start now. Have you ever been to church?
A: In my life? Yes, I have been in churches.
D: They should be able to be together, I suppose. Not to raise children though. Not to raise them in a funny way. It is a sin.

NB: D is unmarried. And four months pregnant.

Wondering how feasible it is to replace cigarettes with press ups and poetry reading.


Sunday, February 15, 2004

Maureen from Driving School looks like Sam Allardyce. You may not be able to see it from these pictures, but trust me.

See also: Mo Mowlam's striking resemblance to Winston Churchill, presumably the reason that she was chosen to champion him for the Greatest Britons survey. Harsh but fair.

Haven't been on an internet for a while. I hope no one has been writing hackneyed posts about Valentine's Day.

First impressions of Back to Reality are good. Without fear of hyperbole, I think it could turn out to be the best programme that has ever been on television. And there's no way that James Hewitt isn't going to win it. I will be keeping an eye out for the inevitable t-shirts, but if you get there first, I'd thank you to let me in on the secret.


Friday, February 13, 2004

Best dogs:

1) Any mongrel
2) Any wolf half-breed
3) Border Collie
4) Pyrenees Mountain Dog
5) Old English Sheep Dog (NB must be unshaved)

Honourable mentions: Red setters; any dogs which fit in pockets; dogs with a trolley instead of back legs.

Worst dogs:

1) Jack Russell
2) Staffordshire Bull Terrier
3) Great Dane
4) Dalmation
5) Bull Dog

Went to see a mysterious recruitment consultant today in South Kensington. The office was on the ground floor of a house, and on entry I was greeted by a yapping Jack Russell. The secretary who showed me to the interview room bore more than a passing resemblance to the one who isn't Aggie in How Clean Is Your House. (Yes, Guardian readers, I do know that Aggie used to work for MI5/6) I was then kindly grilled by a nice woman of indeterminable ethnicity who seemed genuinely upset by my employment situation. ("But you have *so* much to give..." "Sure do," I didn't reply.)

- What do you want to do with your career?

- I don't know really... I don't want to work in sales... I'd rather work with words than numbers and I don't want a job which will control my life. The problem with an economics degree is that it pushes you towards finance. I’m not really interested in that, I find it hard to care about just making money for people and moving numbers around a screen.

- Right, right. That’s great. I have this job I'd like to put you forward for. It’s a young company, they deal with hedge funds. You know, shares? Blah, blah, blah, they need people to analyse market movements, research blah blah… if you get an interview you’ll have to dress up really smart, exude confidence and… blah blah…these people play to win… Do you want me to put you forward?

- … (sigh) ok.

Raleigh = good name for a band?


On the news this morning, the "British South Park" is being made at the moment featuring the worst school in the world. Where's it set? Of course Streatham Hill.

D: There must be a lot of them here. Can you tell who they are?

D: Alistair, do you have any gay friends?
A: Yes.
D: Oh. Never mind.

(D is reading an article on the Sky News website about gay marriage.)


Thursday, February 12, 2004

I had to pick up my contact lenses from the sorting office this morning. I'd forgotten all about the photos of an oiled, bespeedoed Frank Bruno and a smiling Trevor Sinclair standing over the fallen David Beckham. They more than made up for having to get out of bed twenty minutes earlier than usual.


Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Next season:

Alex Ferguson managing a Chelsea side containing Ronaldo, Roberto Carlos, Van Nistleroy, Joaquin and possibly Paul Scholes and Raúl...

You heard it here first.

This is quite interesting. I can't work out how to post my results here, but for the record, I got -10.00 on the economic scale and -9.33 on the authoritarian/libertarian axis. I think this may make me a revolutionary.


Tuesday, February 10, 2004


S: Aleestar, are my lips red?
A: Yeah, have you been eating sweets?
S: No, I think I kiss too much.
A: Riiiight.
S: Or I get flu.

A: Oh, sorry Susanna, I was just using your computer to download these scanners.
S: That's ok, Aleestar. You can use my computer whenever you want.
A: Cheers.
S: If you like we can go... further.

Of no interest to those who don't care for football, of course, but Hoddle to Southampton once again? Are they insane? The worst manager of recent years and a Grade A Jackass to boot. And the fans don't even want him. I'm astonished that anyone would still offer him a job, especially with John Barnes floating around, clubless.


Monday, February 09, 2004

Cats! With human lips!

The HMS Belfast is flying a banner celebrating the Sea Cadets, the sworn enemy of my old regiment, the Combined Cadet Force - Navy division.

Someone who used to live two floors below me at college sat beside me on the bus this morning. Naturally we didn't say a word to each other.


Sunday, February 08, 2004


I'll stick around - Foo Fighters. Best song Nirvana never did?

I can't stand the rain - Tina Turner. God bless Kazaa.

Reminder for me: chain.

Yes, yes I am listening to the theme from the BBC's Wimbledon coverage.


Saturday, February 07, 2004

In the event of my disappearance, I would like this picture released to the media:

Songs which have given me the most love when downloaded from an internet:

1) The Good Life - Tony Bennett
2) A Marvellous Party - Noel Coward
3) Town Without Pity - Gene Pitney
4) Freedom '90 - George Michael
5) Tijuana Taxi - Herb Alpert
6) Surrey with the Fringe on Top - Cast of Oklahoma
7) Swanee - Al Jolson
8) Crazy Horses - The Osmonds
9) Ski Sunday - Theme
10) The Elements - Tom Lehrer

Why not download them yourself? They're free you know. (In your face, The Man.)

Top 5 chew bars:

1) Roy of the Rovers
2) Irn Bru
3) Stinger
4) Refresher (Original)
5) Wham

Looks like a beautiful day outside. Fortunately, any resentment I may have at being stuck in an office is tempered by the realisation that were I not at work, I'd still be in bed. I will miss Soccer AM though. That's a bit rubbish.

Once more I find myself in an empty office, without a unicycle or even a CD to help pass the lonely hours. Oh well, Bob Dylan impression time:

Helloooo, helloooo, who's your lay-deee friend...


Friday, February 06, 2004

Note to self: leave instructions to have “This Monkey’s Gone to Heaven”, by the Pixies, either played or sung by the congregation at my funeral.

Note to self: Select photo for friends to give to the media should I go missing. Possibly this one.

NB Photo is likely to change when I get home and find a funnier one.

It would have been good to have worn this t-shirt a few days ago. Unfortunately it'd be a bit tired now. On the other hand, it might be worth investing in to roll out in about three years.

Only three stars for School of Rock? I find that hard to believe.

I've been on time for work every day this week. Let me hear you say, "Woo, woo," let me hear you say...


Thursday, February 05, 2004

Can everyone shut up about Hutton now, please? What did you expect? Government lying to people shock. Just like all others ever then.

Last night I partied like it was 1982, watching The Thing and listening to Nebraska. I rule.



Wednesday, February 04, 2004

I just saw Ken Livingstone outside. Had I a handy fact about newts, I would have engaged him in conversation. He was carrying a Boots carrier bag.

John Lydon said, "fucking cunts" on live television yesterday. How very punk of him. Ant and Dec kept apologising for it, presumably because they were embarrassed on his behalf.

A small man enters. He looks a little like a monkey. Slowly he climbs onto a soapbox.

Right, well I was watching Celebrity Atrocity (or whatever it was called) last night, and I became enraged. One, they were such babies. Make a decision! Two, now I don’t expect much from Amanda Platell, but arguing that you shouldn’t shoot down an airliner because “women and children are onboard”, is a bit much. Is that how you measure human life? By gender and age? If it were a plane full of men, would it be OK to sacrifice it? And another thing, this child worship… If you have to pick between a five year old and an eighty nine year old, then fine, save the kid. In general though, children are much of a muchness. It takes twenty, thirty years to make an adult, you can have an infant in four. Therefore grown-ups are more valuable. While I have this platform I’d also like to draw attention to Celebrity Fit Club, surely the best programme on television. Yesterday had Jonno Coleman jogging in Vanessa Feltz’s swimming pool. You don’t forget that image in a hurry. Priceless. Right, well, thanks for listening. Have a good day. Bye.

Susana: Aleestar, you always look so elegant.
Alistair: Ummm... thanks.
S: You know how to iron?
A: Do I know how to iron? Yes, of course.
S: I don't... we should be flatmates.


Tuesday, February 03, 2004

I like the sound of this, particularly, "Modernity was challenged by a gruesome alliance of pre-modernists and post-modernists, medieval theocrats and New Age mystics."

I'm enjoying the title of Stuart Maconie's memoirs almost as much as Alan Titchmarsh's "Trowel and Error".

Ahhh, February... Home of the two most mediocre celebrations in the calendar. Should at least get some flour in, then I can commemorate Jif Lemon Day in fine style. (Decided against a lame joke about widening the letter box to accommodate all the cards come the 14th. If you think you would have enjoyed it, then feel free to imagine my having written it. If not, then I hope you appreciate my restraint.)

My weekend.


– Taking Monday off so being able to go reasonably hard on Sunday night with no fear of the consequences.

– Zidane’s Marseille Roulette on the edge of the six yard box. Having beaten the keeper, missing in front of the open net only made it more glorious.

– Saturday night. Was fun.

– School for Scoundrels and Bad Day at Black Rock really delivering. Good calls, both.


- Going out on Friday night was unnecessary and a waste of money. Should have been strong.

- Realising that I should only go to places with an age profile near my own. Alas, my excitement at hearing Ghostbusters has diminished with the years. More to the point, I always end up being captivated by the beauty of some youth and moon around, all Death in Venice. (Or like Michael Caine in Blame it on Rio if you would like a more heterosexual and less highbrow [and so more accurate] reference.)

- The Naked Gun not giving anywhere near as much as was expected.


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