Posts Tagged ‘Crossroads’


June 30, 2012

Who has seen ‘Legend’ starring Tim Curry and Tom Cruise? Not I, sir. Here is my review of it:

Satan peels on his mink leggings. Mmmmmm, they glide so smoothly and warmly over his goaty legs that he lets forth a luxurious baritone sigh. It is a sigh so fruity and intimate in pitch that Beelzebub blushes a shade of red hitherto unseen in the Chambers of Pandemonium. Mmmmmmmm. ‘Is this what it feels like to be a baby sheep?’ Satan asks.

Next, Satan moves over to his infernal dressing table, wherein he lustily eyes a hearty smorgasbord of puffs, powders, pomades and potions with which to beautify his crow-footed face. Yes, Satan is nearing the fag-end of early middle age, but he makes the best of it. A lick of mascara here, a bonk of concealer there, and Satan is a new angel. Everyone is always going on about how nice he looked before he fell. But even they have to admit, the old love isn’t doing too badly now. After a delicate swig of Lambrini and a bracing snort of blow, Satan is hot to trot!

Tom Cruise plays a rustic swain who stretches his listless length at undrentide under the cooling switches of a whistling willow. “Ah me, ah my, whither goeth my pretty maid?” he laments. A robin redbreast replies “Hark ye Young Marster Cruise, your love sporteth with the fauns of the forest”. “Crivens” exclaims Cruise, “my love is like unto the flower that swivels towards every yellow face it mistakes for the sun”. “Racist” comments the robin, but Cruise pretends he has not heard, and sets off in search of his wanton shepherdess.

On his way to rescue his love, Cruise encounters Satan, hanging fresh and loose at the crossroads.

Who are you?” enquires Cruise, with frightened curiosity.

I am the Deveeeell” says Satan, with gusto.

Who?” replies Cruise

The Devil” says Satan, with less gusto.

What you will” says Cruise “I like your leggings

Thank you” blushes Satan “they’re mink

What is mink?”

It is fluffy and magical” replies Satan, “and I will give you a mink waistcoat all of your own if you sell me your delicious, plump soul’.

Readers can imagine what happens next. In case they can’t, here is a quick summary:

Satan and Tom Cruise start a trad jazz band

While walking past a telescope Cruise discovers a comet heading straight for earth

Satan goes on a chat show and falls asleep

Brian Blessed rolls up on a foaming steed and shouts “What news Brave Fellows?”

The gang are finally reunited for one last job

The report is submitted on time

Your boss congratulates you on a job well done and allows you to have 45 minutes free time in the play area.



Banjo reviews… U2’s Achtung Baby

July 15, 2009

I’ve never heard this album, not knowingly. I hate U2. My wife likes them and she once paid a pauper’s fortune to see them play some songs in a football stadium. Fuck THAT, says I. Here’s a review of some album they did.

The first thing you notice about U2’s Achtung Baby is that the cover features a black and white picture of the band. There are other pictures, even of other stuff, but the important one is the black and white one of the band. The Edge looks a bit grizzly and he’s wearing a woolly hat like Benny off Crossroads.  Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr are too far in the background to really make out, but you can see they’ve got their arms folded. It’s a good sign. It says: ‘This album is good. We’re quite happy with it.’ Of course, Bonovox takes up most of the frame in this shot. He’s got his face right up against the lens, almost, and his arms are out like a crucified messiah. Shit, I think, this guy means business.

So what noises do this bunch of uber-wealthy hoteliers and shoe-collectors make? Well, there’s some guitars. Probably with a lot of reverb. Edge tends to cover up a lack of raw talent with mountainous quantities of effects, so there’s a bit of that going on. There’s also some drums and bass, but not too much. Good. Fuck ’em. ON WITH THE BONO, cry the fans. BONO SEXED MY TOFU, yell the heaving-breasted mothers of children named Jake and Ruben. I WANT TO BE ANGRY ABOUT STUFF, howl bank-workers and call-centre managers in U2 branded fashionwear. HELP ME BONO-WAN-BONOBI YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE, plea ten thousand Princess Leias from ten thousand R2D2 projector-pipes.

And he does. He teleports his brain-trumps right into your left lobal nerve-tubes. He sings about his Jimmy Choo copy platform shoes in ‘Even Better Than The Real Thing’. He sings a tragic tale about Jeff Goldblum’s insectoid transformation in ‘The Fly’ and waxes lyrical about self-updating software in ‘Acrobat’. All the while, The Edge punctuates Boneo’s gob-squawks with a ‘squiddly-dee’ riff repeated infinitely through a mangle-box. Hmm, thinketh I, these noises make the world less evil.

And they do. I peel back the curtain: a group of children, previously happy-slapping each other’s behoodied torsos, are now joyously skipping towards an old person’s home to help feed them their mushed-up biscuits. A bomb falling from the sky has transmogrified into a full battalion of sex-clowns, parachuting into town to cheer us all up with their honking great penises and love-lumps. And I cry. I cry tears of joy at Borneo’s tale of how many sugars he has in his tea in ‘One’, I weep like a whipped pup at his parable of a train network run by animals in ‘Zoo Station’. And I howl like an orphaned goat at his spellbinding duet with Stevie Wonder, ‘Love is Blindness’.

Needless to say, this album changed my world. I give it five out of ten.