That's right, as promised you are getting a bonus blog this week to make up for my absence over the last month.
As you might imagine, with little else to do I have been watching a lot of tv of late from the good to the... not so good (and certainly one BAD)! I seem to have managed to steer clear of the ugly so far though, so that's a small comfort. I won't review them all right now because that would take hours to write and probably even longer to read but have a few high (and low) lights to be going along with.
Being a huuuuuge The League of Gentlemen and Psychoville fan I finally got around to watching Inside No. 9 and I have no idea what took me so long. Using the simple premise of every story taking place in a number 9 location to tie everything together, half of The League, in the form of Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, have written a collection of weird and wonderful tales with a dizzying array of bizarre and beautiful characters for us to sink our teeth into.
While they have always been known for their rather dark twist on comedy, this series really pushes the envelope in delving deeper into the depths than ever before, sometimes forgoing the comedy altogether to explore this new level of horror. Homages abound, classic influences are once again given a pedestal with which to bludgeon any innocent passers by. Moving from one episode to the next, you can never really be sure what you are going to get, sometimes the credits begin to roll and you're still left reeling - should I have laughed at that? Did that really just happen? Where on earth did that come from?
Oftentimes as haunting as it is humorous, Inside No. 9 takes you on a unique journey through depravity and desperation, one episode only offering the faintest glimmer of levity to help you through, while others lather it on with a big dollop of slapstick. I can't say I liked every episode the same, as they are all so fantastically different. However, I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed the exploration of new and unique styles - one episode is filmed almost entirely inside a wardrobe, while another features only one line of dialogue - and the decision to give Pemberton and Shearsmith free reign was definitely a wise one. Clearly, others in the industry agree with me as each episode features a new character played by both writers, but also a star studded cast with cameos popping up left, right and centre, actors clamouring to get just a tiny chunk of script to call their own. The sense of enthusiasm is palpable and, japes aside, there is enough food for thought to supply a buffet. This is definitely a show I will be returning to again and again, and I look forward to many more episodes.
At the other end of the spectrum lies Attack on Titan Part 1 & 2, a live action adaptation of the highly acclaimed manga and anime series of the same name. Usually in these cases, I will recommend that newcomers to something watch the anime first while fans of the anime get stuck in. For once I find that I have the same message for both of these groups: don't.
Put simply, Attack on Titan is a dramatic, horrific, action packed adventure into a dark future for mankind filled with huge imagination and incredible artistry. The film, however, is a slow descent into madness, starting as an adaptation of a well known story and ending in a clash of clichés all vying for prime position in a plot that simply uses the AOT characters in a cheap ploy to get more people to watch it.
I had reasonable critiques of Part 1; a forced love triangle, a strange new storyline replacing a much better one, some of the most interesting characters being dropped altogether... but by Part 2 any semblance of review had been tossed into a Titan's mouth and replaced with one sentence: What the everloving fuck is happening? I honestly don't know what happened but somewhere along the way the plot changed from dystopian fantasy drama to zany monster mashup in the blink of an eye, leaving me reeling with confusion and clinging for dear life to my manga as I struggled to swallow the absolute mess that had been put before me. By the end of the film it felt like the director had realised he still had a surplus of budget so decided to blow it all on a huge fight sequence where nothing that makes any kind of sense happens but it's all very impressive and exciting because they're twenty feet tall and that's all anyone cares about, right? For the sake of your poor, long suffering eyes, please do not watch this vomitous mass of a film franchise.
In other news, I'm happy to tell you that Spare Oom (my recording studio/office/the unpacked boxed room) is fully up and running and you can watch my first youtube post right here! If you like what you see I'd be totally ok with you sharing it and subscribing to my channel for more. I'm just that kinda person.
My poor dad has been in the wars lately so I popped over to see him and Susan on Thursday. What with his injuries making his hand swell up to the size of a small country, he couldn't come and pick me up like usual so I volunteered to get the bus. For those of you who don't know, I have... well I wouldn't say a phobia, but... well, a phobia of public transport. I think it's going to be really early and I'll have missed it, I think it's not going to show up at all, I think it's going to be more money than I've got, I think the driver is going to kick me off for being... I don't know too pale, I think there's going to be a bomb on the bus and Keanu Reeves is going to have a heart attack so he can't come and save us and we're all going to die.
Still, clutching my bag like it was a Kevlar vest for anxiety, I went to the bus stop and waited. Getting to Durham was the easy part, getting from Durham to dad was slightly harder as the driver decided when I said 'Ferry Hill' what I was actually saying was 'Timbuktu' and basically tried to talk me out of travelling on the Bishop VIA FERRY FUCKING HILL bus. Nerves in tatters, I eventually coerced my way on board before quadruple checking the route on google maps to make sure I hadn't taken a wrong turn on my prior ten minute bus journey and ended up in South Africa. More annoyingly, when a man got on after me heading to the same destination, the driver let him on without a bloody word! If I wasn't so nervous I'd have been seething that the whole journey cost me a tenner. I could get a limo to Ferry Hill for ten quid! No wonder no one uses the bus anymore.
Then came the nausea inducing journey where every stop we went past was the one I was supposed to get off at until we finally did get to my stop and I got off without incident but feeling like I'd been dragged through a hairdryer one body part at a time. Still, I made it.
As usual, arriving at dad's I discovered a boatload of new animals for me to meet. I may have to start calling him Noah. After I'd cuddled my way through them all, we went out shopping and I got him a nice fender amp (only £15, absolute steal!) as a get well soon present and an adorable dragon tee and bra for myself. Unfortunately we didn't get any bags so I had to wander round town with half a corset casually in my hand! Good thing I don't get embarrassed easily!
We also had a look up to his allotment to see how everything is doing, I swear it gets greener every time I go there! We had a good old chat about various sprouts - with me pretending I know about 50x more than I actually do! - before heading back home to watch some terrible daytime telly with Susan.
Dad very kindly made dinner for us all, despite struggling with the uber-hand, and I'm sure it would have been lovely if halfway through the meal I hadn't suddenly decided I needed to get the bus right now and raced out the door drawing on a cigarette like it contained the elixir of life. I knew the bus wasn't for another fifteen minutes but I was sweating, terrified, power walking down the pavement like an angry steam engine - trail of smoke in my wake. I finished the cigarette in record time, leaning against the bus shelter so I didn't pass out, trying desperately to focus on the sights and sounds around me, to ground myself to the moment and ignore the churning in my stomach, the tingling in my fingertips, the spinning in my head.
The bus showed up about a minute late. I'd aged fifteen years. Nontheless, I sat on the bus triumphant, happy in the knowledge that mum would be picking me up in Durham so I didn't have to worry about yet another public transport panic attack. I text her en route to let her know that I had set off, and once again when I was about five minutes away from the bus station. I leapt off the bus and walked to our usual pick up point. Ten minutes passed. No mum. I checked my phone; 3% battery and no word. I quickly text her 'where are you?'
An unhelpful 'at home' was the response. I reminded her that she had offered to pick me up. I also told her my phone was running out of battery; would she like me to get the bus (please say no) or was she on her way now?
'Yes :)'
2% battery. Not enough to call and beg an explanation to what could only be a deliberately ambiguous text, my brain informed me, angry at the sudden onslaught of new panic. Quickly I text her again. 'To which???' I demanded, frantically button bashing 'send', literally stamping my foot and yelling 'SHIT' in frustration as the LG symbol flashed up on the screen, signalling a power down.
With no form of communication I was left with two choices; I could get the bus home to find mum had come to pick me up and have her so angry she kicked me out when she finally came back or I could wait here in the hope she would collect me before starvation did.
I chose... to run between the two locales for the worst fifteen minutes of this year, convinced I would miss both her and the buses until sheer exhaustion claimed me and I'd die from a fast acting horrible exercise-related disease.
Of course, none of that happened and mum came to get me. After a couple of hours, a lot of tea and some food I felt more or less back to normal but thoroughly exhausted.
And so to people who think my aversion to public transport is 'just an excuse' I would encourage you to reread this section but instead of laughing, try to imagine you genuinely believe all of these things will happen to you. Thank you.
I hope you have enjoyed your bonus blog and I will see you when we return to our regular programming on Wednesday!
Xx
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