“Who would have thought Lionel could be so enraged by my forgetting he likes mushy peas with his faggots?”
Those of you, and perusing our correspondence file there are many, who view the rampant success of the suburban blockbuster epic that is 50 Shades of Grey with some confusion – not to mention those who avoided reading the books altogether, commes moi – will love this blog from Speaker 7.
Genuinely hilarious, and recommended. As, indeed, is most of the blog. Give yourself a break and have a larf … fewer calories than a Kit-Kat, after all. Click here:
http://speaker7.wordpress.com/2013/11/18/fifty-shades-of-movie-magic/
P.S. Um. Are there really so many suburban housewives suffering total frustration of their darker sexual needs that they are absolutely hanging out for this movie to arrive, having read and re-read the three books a dozen times each? Sheesh.
(It’s out on Valentines Day next year, by the way. Yup, Valentines Day, for a movie about Dominance, Submission, and BDSM. You heard it here, first.)
Homo Suburbus clearly needs to lift his game. Personally, one always does one’s best to hold one’s end up where conjugal duties are concerned, but then there’s the back to be considered, not to mention the war wound … the gardening needs finishing, then there’s that tap that’s leaking. Not to mention, of course, football to watch.
Today I heard of a voraciously fit young lady marrying a much older guy this weekend, whose female friends are genuinely concerned that she will kill him.
Where coronary thrombosis beckons, discretion is the better part of valour, we say.
For some reason, Dear Reader. we are reminded of one of our all-time favourite poems, from a man who has created many of the wittiest and most apposite verses in the English language in the last forty years or so. Yes, OK, our mind is wandering: age will do that to you. Heigh ho. Anyway, those who are familiar with my poetry will immediately spot the genesis of my style, such as it is, in McGough’s work, which is acknowledged in the foreword to my book. Enjoy.
Today is Not a Day for Adultery
by Roger McGough
Today is not a day for adultery.
The sky is a wet blanket
being shaken in anger. Thunder
rumbles through the streets
like malicious gossip.
Take my advice: braving
the storm will not impress your lover
when you turn up at the house
in an anorak. Wellingtons,
even coloured, seldom arouse.
Your umbrella will leave a tell-tale
puddle in the hall. Another stain
to be explained away. Stay in,
keep your mucus to yourself.
today is not a day for sin.
Best pick up the phone and cancel.
Postpone until the weather clears.
No point in getting soaked through.
At your age, a fuck’s not worth
the chance of catching a ‘flu.
from Roger McGough, Selected Poems, 2006 at Penguin Books.
I was delighted when I saw the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly:
Finally, the first of many issues heralding the arrival of this movie. Being a big fan of the books, I tore through the magazine pages, reading voraciously and savoring every morsel I could.
I understand it will be difficult to condense E.L. James 600-paged behemoth down to a two-hour film. Will they cut out one of the 1,200 email exchanges? Or one of the 4,507 times Christian orders Ana to eat? Or one of the 35,678 times Christian remarks on Ana’s wetness.
God, I hope not.
In the magazine, the stars were interviewed about their thoughts on the film.
For the uninitiated, Fifty Shades of Grey is a steamy trilogy about a virginal sockpuppet who falls in love with a controlling oil-retention enema. They murmur and stick things in holes. It’s awesome or–to use Virginia of Lame Adventures
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Well, This Is What I Think 