Frost/Nixon fact/fiction?

Another reason why I love living in London. I got into work ridiculously early on Monday as a result of a big leak in my flat (long story). As a consequence of my early start, I managed to spot an advert in the Guardian offering free tickets to a preview screening of 'Frost/Nixon' much earlier than I normally would have done, and managed to get my hands on a pair.

So Thursday night, just hours after the film had picked up five Oscar nominations, off we went to Cineworld Haymarket after a beer and a sausage at my favourite pub, The Harp. The foyer was packed, with hundreds of people all clutching their printed tickets, and amongst the throng was none other than former Lib Dem leader, Charles Kennedy. I do like my celebrity spotting, so I was quite chuffed with this one. Then, when we took our seats in the grand, art deco Screen 1, we spotted legendary broadcaster John Humphrys (whose real first name is apparently Desmond, according to Wikipedia). Turns out that, as well as watching the film for free, we were to be treated to a Q&A session after the screening with Charles, John, Observer film critic Philip French and Channel 4 news broadcaster Samira Ahmed, hosted by the Observer's political editor, Gaby Hinsliff.

It was riveting stuff, with lots of intelligent debate about the film itself (I thoroughly enjoyed it, although the Q&A session sparked the panel to deliberate whether it should have simply stuck to the facts, rather than adding in bits such as the late night phonecall between the two lead players), as well as some amusing anecdotes from John Humphrys after he was asked whether he believes Gordon Brown is 'Nixonian'. According to Humphrys, Brown, like Nixon, has a 'desperate need to be loved'.

A fab evening, and spookily, all as a result of my own, rather less complicated, 'Watergate'.

Wicked 48 hours

So I have completed another rotation around the sun and have waved goodbye to my mid-twenties. Ah well. A very good birthday it was too, with a birthday lunch, lots of wine, laughter, Chinese food (leading to doggybag-gate) and a surprise delivery to the office of a fab Authentic Cuervo Margarita kit courtesy of the lovely people at Splendid Communications. It was delivered by a courier and everything and came with a gorgeous glass with sparkly bits down the stem. Yum yum.

Then the following evening a bunch of us from work went to see the musical 'Wicked'. I'm a regular theatre-goer, but musicals aren't usually my bag, yet I swear this one blew my socks off. Fab story, catchy songs, witty humour. I even shed a couple of tears, which is VERY unlike me. Go and see it. Now. It's even got Carol from 'The Brittas Empire' in it (the receptionist who used to keep her baby in the drawer).

Sonic relief

Funny Dunlop family joke earlier. What with Doctor Who being 'in the blood', my mum, dad and I were waiting with baited breath for the BBC's over-dramatic televisual announcement of the actor who has been chosen to portray the Eleventh Doctor. The build-up was anti-climactic (apart from some well-deserved airtime for Great Uncle Patrick Troughton), with the selected actor being unveiled as the relatively unknown Matt Smith. He is going to be the youngest ever Doctor. He's younger than me for goodness sake! Now I do feel old.

Anyway, my brother was out at the time of the announcement so we concocted a plan, and decided to tell him when he got back that Lenny Henry had got the job.

The build-up was perfect - resulting in a game of 20 questions for him to work out who it was. He got to Lenny Henry after about ten questions....and was absolutely delighted! "I'm definitely going to watch the next series now!" he proclaimed, with the widest possible grin on his face. The rest of us completely cracked up and broke the news to him that sadly it wasn't going to be Lenny Henry after all, although in hindsight I kind of wish we had let him go on believing it in order to cause maximum embarrassment.

Congratulations young Mr Smith - don't let us down!!

Up sh*t Creek

I made a special effort to get home in time for 'Jonathan Creek' last night (what has my life become?!) and I must say I was a tad baffled by it. I used to be a big fan of the show back in my youth, enjoying its twists and turns and witty humour, but last night's storyline was just too preposterous!

*Stop reading now if you don't want spoilers*

So a woman's best friend mysteriously disappears into thin air in the middle of the night, with all remaining of her the clothing she went to bed in. Now if this was my friend I would be pretty darn worried. The best case scenario is that she would be walking around naked somewhere. But does our new heroine call the police? No. Instead she approaches Jonathan Creek upon the recommendation of an old lady she barely knows for his help. Little progress is made in tracking her down, so they go along to the local village show and have a bit of a giggle by partaking in some magic tricks. ERR - YOUR FRIEND IS MISSING AND POSSIBLY DEAD, DON'T FAFF AROUND BY PERFORMING MAGIC TRICKS YOU DUNCE!!

In an equally absurd secondary storyline, a magician's girlfriend is having an affair with their handyman (played by the lead singer dude from ace 90s series 'The Young Person's Guide to becoming a Rock Star') and they get married in secret. The magician finds out and murders his girlfriend. The handyman is understandably a tad upset by the turn of events, but when Jonathan tracks him down to try and found out what happened, he is still doing oddjobs round the magician's house. ERR - YOUR WIFE HAS JUST DIED AND YOU ARE AWARE THAT YOUR EMPLOYER IS THE MOST LIKELY SUSPECT. WHY ARE YOU STILL UP A LADDER CLEANING OUT HIS GUTTERS??!!

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh - I know the show is meant to be a bit 'out there', but last night's episode really did push the boundaries of acceptable social behaviour and common sense a little bit too far.

Paul Ross to eclipse sibling?

Do you ever feel that your house is missing a focal point? I did, so I purchased a lovely mirror with an oak frame and it now sits proudly in my living room above my fireplace. Oh, if only I had waited one week. Had I been more wise, it would not be a mirror that has pride of place, it would be this.

That's right, it's the definitive 20" canvas print of superstar television presenter, Paul Ross. My brother stumbled across it on Amazon whilst doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Read the product reviews and you'll bee ROFLing for a long time, I guarantee it. Here are some of my favourite comments:

"If you only buy one 20 inch canvas print of Paul Ross this year, this is the one to get."

"My friend was so grateful he gave us the exact same print as an early Christmas present!"

"Such is the power of the exhibition of the Ross that I've recently quit my quite good job in order to tour the 20" Ross around the UK next year."

"I can't believe the nerve of Amazon allowing this for sale after all those calls to Manuel. And if you're reading Paul, isn't it about time you and Russell both apologised publicly. It's been weeks now."

"This is NOT a portrait of Eamonn Holmes. I made this mistake and words can’t begin to describe my disappointment when I tore at the packaging to expose Ross."

And so they continue...

Kicking about town

Nice and cheap evening in London after work yesterday. It started off in the uber-trendy area of Hoxton, where I had been invited along to a swanky launch party for the new range of Kickers shoes. Yummy free cocktails were flowing, and I also got to see a cool Kickers-inspired stop-frame video (made by Lovebite) for a CSS remix of the Chromeo track 'Fancy Footwork'.

Next year they're launching a new shoe that you can colour in yourself, which is a pretty neat idea, although I never could stay inside the lines.

After having our fill of complimentary nibbles, we headed sarf to Brixton where we watched Biffy Clyro absolutely rock it up with an immaculate set, culminating in millions of sparkly ticker tape bits floating onto the crowd, and singer Simon Neil literally launching himself head first into the mosh pit for the crescendo of their closing song. Sod the drums - I now have a new career goal: rock violinist.

Hallepoojah

I’m annoyed! The Jeff Buckley version of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ is one of my favourite songs of all time. But now it’s been turned into a commercial vehicle for the X-Factor.

Don’t get me wrong, I watch X-Factor as much as the next person, but do the hoards of parents buying the single for their kiddies’ Christmas stockings even know what the song is about?! It’s blatantly about the birds and the bees!

And it’s all very well joining Facebook groups to try and get various versions of the same song to secure the Christmas Number One slot, but the rights to all versions of the track are owned by Sony BMG, so even if people download the Cohen / Buckley versions instead of Alexandra Burke’s, they are still simply lining Mr Cowell’s already-golden pockets – grrrr!

So in my warped and twisted mind I feel the only way to display my loyalty and respect for the song is simply not to listen to it ever again. Problem solved.