Posts Tagged ‘Doctor Who’

Sherlock

August 11, 2010

Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson

Sherlock Holmes, literary heavyweight; a character who stalks the corridors of English fiction like a goliath. His name, exploits and intellect are renowned, the tales of his adventures famed from Alaska to Adelaide. His name is synonymous with deduction and reason. Not for nothing is there a popular sarcastic colloquial expression that evokes his name, “No labial mucus Sherlock, what you just said was cunting obvious”.

With over 6 bazillion existing adaptations of the classic stories at the last count, some may baulk at the idea of wheeling the Victorian sleuth and his suck-up dweeb of a mate out for another airing. Such deluded critics can go hang, for you will find that Holmes has been described by all and sundry as ‘begging’ for a modern retelling. Which can surely be interpreted as “no one has thought of rehashing this old story in lieu of new ideas yet”.

With such admirable motives the BBC coughed up a three part primetime mini-series this summer, destined to win awards before it was even scripted, as these things so often are.

The show is set in modern day London, though the viewer would be forgiven for forgetting, since they are only subjected to tourist board shots of the ‘quintessential’ British sights and interior scenes of black cabs every five fucking seconds.

As usual our heroes, Sherlock Holmes the famous baker of Detective Street and his eternally perplexed room-mate, Nurse Watson, have a curious relationship charged with homoeroticism.

“Homosexuality is perfectly acceptable in this day and age!” exclaims Holmes, apropos of nothing. The odd couple quibble and dribble over each other as they attempt to solve various riddles (and bake lots of cakes). One such crime was the ‘Extraordinary Case of The Murdering Murderer (Best Served With Scones)’, documented meticulously by Watson in his blog:
“I asked Holmes how ever did he know the culprit would be in the ladyboy brothel at that exact time. ‘A ringtone, my dear Watson!’ he exclaimed, throwing in a modern reference that has become so characteristic of him of late”.

After a wasting an hour on Facebook together, they returned to the case.

“He has a penis”, cried Sherlock, grabbing the cadaver’s crotch. “Ergo we can deduce he is a man”. Holmes is doubtless being sarcastic, Watson tweeted immediately, using his brand new modern Blackberry, I’m sure he has ascertained far more information than us mere mortals could fathom with that rather prolonged cock-rub. Lol!

“iphone my dear Watson!” scoffed Holmes, spotting his thick colleague’s confused expression, a look perfected during the actor’s time in the company of Ricky Gervais. “People like Doctor Who,” he explained impatiently, “Ergo they want more of the same thing: long-coated smart-arses with shit hair pontificating to a moronic companion. No offence, John”. “None taken,” said Watson between mouthfuls of Sherlock’s arse.

“But how will we solve this murder in a plausible yet modern way?”  Sherlock flicked back a lock of his carefully sculpted ‘idiosyncratic genius’ hair. “Spotify my Dear Watson!” he exclaimed, whilst watching an HD television and doing his banking online, as though the producers had not considered that such nonsense would date his exploits in less than ten years.

“The victims jumper is blue,” explained Holmes, smugly, “Therefore we can deduce that he liked the colour blue… ergo ipso facto obvio, the killer does not like blue. Watson what is your favourite colour?”

Watson’s face, formerly the very picture of fawning sycophancy, once more looked perplexed. “Why Holmes, I must confess it has always been red…” he stammered. “Really…” mused Holmes, manically, “You CONFESS it to be red… Sergeant, I think we have our man!”

As the rozzers dragged the hapless Watson to Belmarsh to rot with all the other paedos, he just had time to log-on to Twitter one final time and note: I am beginning to suspect Holmes is not all he’s cracked up to be…

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A review of a film

March 21, 2010

It’s me, Mr B Fett. I saw a film. This is what I have to say about it.

Some friends of mine drove us there. There were four of us: String-o, Luggy, Zandwich and me. We were in a car, initially. Then, later, we were in the foyer of the cinema. Actually, before that we were in the car park. This detail is probably important for continuity, otherwise, dear reader, you might assume we ram-raided the cinema, or that we were at a drive-in. But the cinema foyer was exciting. There were lots of people there, milling about and paying for drinks and coloured ice slushes and popped corn. Man, I was so excited. Except the film was full so we had to wait until they showed it again.

Luckily it was on again in an hour.

I bought a drink. It was medium but it was stretching the definition of medium as it was more like massive. We had some food in our bags, a trick we learned from our elders. But we still bought some drinks because we didn’t want to look like we’d strayed too far from the herd.

Eventually we went into the screen-room (number eight) with all the other people, and seated ourselves appropriately. The gradient of the seating and stairs seemed excessively steep, almost like a cliff, but with rows of seating. Luggy immediately suffered from a sudden wave of Vertigo (the capital ‘V’ is a film reference not a typo) as a result of the steep gradient. I didn’t like the idea of sitting on the edge of a cliff to watch a film but I held onto my seat and leaned as far back as possible so I wouldn’t fall over the seats in front of me and tumble onto the families below.

We chatted about our plans for toilet breaks and how we would find our seats after going to the toilet. In the end we agreed to do a Mexican wave when the toilet-visiter returned. Then the adverts started.

I can’t really remember the adverts, but there was one about Doctor Who. Strange really because Doctor Who’s by the BBC so that means my TV license money went towards a cinema advert. After a while a message on the screen told us to put our 3D glasses on. Then they had some more adverts but in 3D and I can’t remember what they were for but there was quite a lot of them and one of them wasn’t in 3D. Zandwich felt a bit sick as well. I thought it might have been the steep gradient but it might not have been.

The film started. It had the usual BBFC classification screen first and it had been classified a PG. The woman behind me got angry about that because her husband had told her it was a 15. I didn’t hear his excuse though.

The film was in 3D as well. It wasn’t really like proper 3D, like how life is in 3D. It was a bit like a pop-up book except not as good, like as if the pop-up bits weren’t popping up properly. And now and then one of the characters would throw something at the screen and you might try and duck and then you’d remember it’s a film in a cinema and the object’s not real so you don’t need to duck.

For some reason the film didn’t stick to what happened in the book. It made some other stuff up and just included a few things that happened in the book. It’s not a pop-up book so maybe that’s why, I don’t know.

In summary I give it six out of ten.