For some reason, yesterday was skewed toward all things British. Here are some examples:
The Mind the Gap lady has been fired by British Transport. You know who I mean, that disembodied voice who comes on in the tube telling you to mind the gap and to step away from the doors, that sort of thing. Her firing is an outrage of course, but it could actually bode very well for her career as a voiceover artist and budding comedian.
If you have not yet heard Emma Clarke's wonderfully subversive yet oh so civilized spoof tube announcements, I strongly urge you to go listen to such gems as "would passengers filling in answers on their Sudokus please accept that they are just crosswords for the unimaginative and are not in any way more impressive just because they contain numbers".
Morrissey is now on my shit list. He has been quoted as making some highly racist and elitist statements to the NME, and while I am generally happy to give people the benefit of the doubt over the NME, in this case Morrissey admits that his xenophobic remarks were quoted correctly, just that they were taken out of context. Excuse me, in what context would eliciting hatred toward immigrants be okay?
It was one thing for Morrissey to blacklist all Canadians for our sealing industry, I can respect that, but I cannot continue to support anyone who talks dreck like that.
In happier Rule Brittania news, I finally saw the film Control yesterday. I won't go into a proper review here, as I have already talked ad nauseum about this film before I even saw it.
But it is beautifully shot in rich black and white, and the actors did a splendid job of sounding like Joy Division (they performed their own music in the live scenes), even though Sam Reilly's voice is considerably higher than Ian Curtis' was and he has a slightly different accent.
Curtis comes across as a thoroughly sad bastard, which I suppose he must have been, but bandmate Bernard Sumner is portrayed as unexpectedly sweet and naive, while Peter Hook continues to be shown as a surly bastard. Considering that the film was based on the book by Curtis' widow, his mistress, Annik Honore, is portrayed in a surprisingly sympathetic light.
And in a delightful example of life imitating art imitating life, the actor who portrays Tony Wilson, founder of Factory Records, looks astonishingly like Steve Coogan, who played him in 24 Hour Party People. Neither man looks particularly like the real Tony Wilson.
When we left the theatre, it was dark and all the shop windows in Kensington were glowing behind the twinkling of the tiny white lights festooning the trees along the streets. Across the river, the illuminated downtown towers shimmered in the bitter cold.
I felt like I was in a Christmas card.
PS - I have now posted my list for the Winter Reading Challenge, if you would care to admire or deride it.