Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween Folks, sick of trick or treaters yet? I think Mr Pumpkin below is !!!

I just pour boiling water on them from above, well it works two ways!

Grow up

I was just watching BBC News 24 two minute update at erm… 5.50am, thanks to this damn cold I have keeping me awake. One headline that made me laugh out loud was that Tory leader David Cameron would support rewarding younger people with driving and going to the pub at an earlier age if they behave responsibly. He says there a confusing array of age ranges to be able to do things.

Well, how would he hope to determine who behaves responsibly and who doesn’t? Letting someone legally into a pub to drink 16 for instance and giving them several pints would soon change everything. Younger people behind the wheel of a car, that doesn’t make sense at all. If anything we need to raise the ages on things like drinking. Do us a favour David and grow up a bit yourself.

Hood

The new Robin Hood series (Saturdays BBC1, 7pm-ish) seems to have attracted much criticisms falling into the camps of love and hate.

I love anything to do with Robin Hood, after all, I live on the fringe of what was once sprawling Sherwood Forest. So, when this new series came along I watched with keen interest. My first impressions were sort of mixed, the music is rousing, I wasn’t immediately sure on the actors and the costumes were far from period authenticity, some characters were even over daubed in make up.

Criticisms from viewers and critics alike seem to target the actors; the fact filming was done abroad (Hungary) and the pantomime like costumes to name a few. I personally felt a bit narked that some of it wasn’t shot over here, for example in the first episode Robin remarks it will be good to see the river Trent again…. yet we never saw it.

So, a few episodes in.

The Actors have grown on me though; Jonas Armstrong plays a convincing unshaven Robin, with a little bit of cocky arrogance which makes a change from the usual clean shaven do-gooder. His side kick ‘Much’ played by Sam Troughton has more substance than the village idiot type Much from the 80’s Robin of Sherwood on ITV. Keith Allen is camp and very predictable as the evil Sherriff, though he is the more experienced actor of the cast to me he seems the weakest member. The rest of the merry men seem likeable enough and then there’s Lucy Griffiths as Marion (drool drool).

Addressing the criticisms and putting things into perspective.

Obviously it’s cheaper to film abroad and there are a lot of lovely locations in mainland Europe, also it’s away from the prying eyes of the British press. We could argue there’s plenty of great locations here in the UK but no Robin Hood to my knowledge has never been filmed in Nottinghamshire, mainly because there’s not much left of Sherwood forest and Nottingham castle isn’t really much of a castle at all (most was destroyed in the civil war). We do have the river Trent though which is magnificent!

The costumes are bad; Guy of Gisborne swaggers around in a long black leather trench coat, Little Johns jacket looks like it belongs in Star Wars and the Sheriffs men look way over the top. We have to take into account this is prime time Saturday Tv and not some Simon Schama history documentary though, so why not make the characters a bit more debonair?

Which brings me to the conclusion that the critics are perhaps being a bit harsh, this isn’t a stuffy classical production of Jane Eyre, this is Robin Hood on at 7pm Saturdays catering for the audience watching at prime time. Kids aren’t bothered about detailed period costumes, they want escapism and action. Back in the 70’s when I watched things like Space 1999 I didn’t snicker behind my hands at the cheesy costumes and dodgy sets, I thought wow!

On the whole the new Robin Hood isn’t bad, it’s not fantastic but the cast are promising, the music is good and there’s plenty of action to please the younger ones. If anything, it keeps the Legend alive in the minds of future generations.

http://newrobin.blogspot.com/

http://www.boldoutlaw.com/

Look at the lights

It was my friend Gerry that told me about Phoenix Nights, the comedy starring Peter Kay, as he described a scene to me in the pub I shrugged nonchalantly and said ‘I’d never heard of it’. Sometime later I caught an episode and keeled over on the sofa laughing as it dawned on me this must be the show Gerry had mentioned.

For the uninitiated or American readers Phoenix Nights is a comedy first aired on BBC2 based around a social club in the Bolton/Chorley area of the North of England.

Before Phoenix Nights Peter Kay had some minor tv success with shows before hitting mainstream big time with Phoenix Nights and the parodoxical owner of the Phoenix Club – Brian Potter. Kay is what I call a typical observational comic, he often absorbs what he see’s around him in northern life and portrays it with convincing and appealing aplomb.

After Kay had rightfully earned success with Phoenix Nights I had a conversation with a friend I used to work with, I won’t mention his name (Pete) but he often has insightful views on things and we discussed Mr Kay and Phoenix Nights at length, in fact we were ardent fans. We discussed the fact that most comedies often stall after a second series and I think we had a valid point, though I do admit there are sometimes exceptions to the rule, American comedies such as Taxi and Cheers spring to mind, and things like Black Adder.

So when Peter Kay did the spin off to Phoenix Nights called ‘Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere’ I watched with interest – to me it was a disaster. It seemed like our theory proved right but not only that, Peter Kay was in self promoting overdrive. Past comedy series where re-released, dvd’s adorned the shelves of retail outlets, adverts with Mr Kay graced the tv screens and the Peter Kay merchandise juggernaut seemed unstoppable. Everyone seemed to love Peter Kay but looking deeper at his solo comedy routine the more discerning of the comedy scene and the critics began to see the flaws. Kay intrinsically relies on English Northern/family/situation humour, he comes across as affable but he doesn’t deliver anything new with his stand up routine, after all, mother in law jokes have all been done before, however much we laugh at them.

So, this really brings me to the conclusion, after Kay’s boom period the critics declared open season and after praising Phoenix Nights began to savage his stand up routines and later efforts such as Max and Paddy. Kay began openly express interest in other avenues and projects, asking if he could be scripted into parts in Coronation Street and Dr Who as well as the almost obligatory self promoting appearances on chat shows. And of course there was the cringe worthy cash in of jaded pop sensation Tony Christies ‘Road to Amarillo’. Oh and then there was the Max and Paddy exercise video! (groan)

In my mind I hoped Kay would come back with another storming series of Phoenix Nights but the excellent actors from there have moved on in their own rights, Dave Spikey and Neil Fitzmaurice to name two whilst of course Kay has concentrated on being a solo star and, the sad irony being without a good supporting cast he isn’t as good as he perceives himself to be.

So whilst I was in Blackpool at the beginning of this week I mentioned Phoenix Nights to my friend from there. She remarked that Peter Kay had offered to switch the Blackpool illuminations on, alas Blackpool council declined and picked……… Dale Winton instead. It reminded me of the first episode of Phoenix Nights when the club re-opened and Kay (as owner Brian Potter) said ‘Look at the lights’ but the club went on to eventually burn down, lets hope Kay can conjure up another Phoenix from the flames and rely more on his innate talent and less on the media merchandising machine.

Northern Vegas

When a voluptuous vixen invites a hobbit to Blackpool for a few days I’m hardly going to refuse am I? So preparations made and bag packed off I went on a journey up north to the Las Vegas of England.

The train journey over the Pennines yielded some good scenery and I was soon in Manchester, a city I’ve not visited that much. Piccadilly station in Manchester is a big modern station, easy to navigate and I was soon boarding my train to Blackpool, standing on the platform I did notice like with my visit to Leicester a while back that Manchester is being extensively re-developed too, lots of new buildings going up.

So, train boarded I headed north through the suburbs of Manchester, Bolton and into deeper Lancashire and through Preston and Leyland to name a few.

Blackpool was overcast when I arrived. After being picked up from the station we did some food shopping, freshened up and went out for a walk down the north end of Blackpool promenade, heading past casino’s and hotels all surrounded by the seasonal neon fest of illuminations. The trams were packed, it was very crowded and that old holiday feeling from when I was a kid came back to wrap me in a warm nostalgia to fend off the sea breeze. Despite the big hotels and new casino’s Blackpool remains a working class resort, where families flock to lap up the many attractions and be rapidly parted from their money. As the brightly lit Blackpool tower looms over head the crowds of holiday makers move zombie fashion down the sea front, a myriad of different British accents chattering away. Blackpool is a place where jaded comedians and television stars of yesteryear go to die, a kind of limbo where they are still recognised by name but no longer big enough to make it onto the silver screens. In Blackpool they are kings of their pier end theatre shows that entertain holiday makers every night, it’s their Vegas.

Heading onto the less congested back streets the holiday allure fades a little and the salubrious night life becomes more evident, there’s a vibrant gay scene with many colourful and entertaining bars amongst the more generic pub chain bars. Blackpool has a unique feel of its own, several visages that combine to give it that Sin City feel with a sprinkle of tacky but I can’t argue with its popularity to all walks of life. It is still the UK’s stag or hen weekend destination of choice, though evidently has suffered with the advent of cheap flights abroad. Whilst the sea front and nearby areas cater for the family unit, the back streets are clearly for those seeking more subversive pleasures – I imagine Las Vegas is the same behind the veneer of neon lights too.

That night we had a rather unimpressive Indian meal and did a couple of colourful bars before heading home on one of the many trams shuttling the sea front parade, known as the golden mile.

The next day I had a long standing appointment with central pier to keep. The reason being simple, as a kid my mum took me to Blackpool for many years, she loved the place and it holds many happy memories for me. Now mum isn’t here anymore I felt it a fitting idea to throw some flowers into the sea for her memory, no better place than central pier in the heart of Blackpool. Clutching a spray of roses I said a few words for mum before giving them to the sea, the wind carrying them underneath the pier, my friend was there to give me a big warm hug, as the seagulls glided overhead we turned out backs to the north wind and the sea, I felt emotional but good inside.

That night we had a lovely Thai meal and later quaffed drinks in a quiet Irish bar, my short break was coming to an end. It has been a lovely couple of days, the sea air is always invigorating and the company was excellent.

Heading back the next day as the train crawled into rainy Manchester I noticed that parallel to our track ran an old vintage steam train, and looking down I could see some lovely old barges gracing the canals, there was even a tramp snoozing on a mattress under a viaduct, seemingly oblivious to the world around him – I said to myself, I really must see a bit more of Manchester.

Lastly, thanks go to the lovely person that I spent a fab couple of days with – you know who you are !

Here are some photos I took, a little cropped to fit in better as blogger doesn't like big files!

View from central Pier

A tram
The Golden Mile
Sharks !

Eastern credit

I was in the bank the other day, I prefer the speed bank machines inside and of course the chance to see the female employees in their crisp smart uniforms saunter about!

As I passed the main counter an east European guy was enthusing about getting a credit card and then a thought struck me. It's obvious that many of our new immigrant friends will apply for a card, run up loads of debt and then go home with lots of booty. Now, as many know from previous posts I'm not happy about the new influx of immigrants but the thought of them ripping greedy in your face credit card companies such as 'Capital One' who are persistant pests with junk mail, tv ads and pc pop ups does make me grin. I just hope they realise when its too late.

The Chauffeur

HHhhmm it seems to be video week on the Hobbit’s Journal and seemingly black and white videos too!

Back in the early 80’s I was a mere hobbit teen who used to love his music and buy Smash Hits magazine every week for the gaudy coloured flexi disk and tacky centre page poster. I did have a stereo but it was archaic and my folks used to screech at me from downstairs if I played it too loud. I did have an escape for music though. I used the single deck cassette player I had for my first computer, the rubber keyed Sinclair ZX Spectrum. Dad converted the box room into a sort of study for me and as the room perched over the stairwell of the house the sounds emanating from it didn’t attract too much attention. So, when a game was loaded into the Spectrum (or Speccy as I called it) then a music tape would go on.

You see, back then there wasn’t cd’s, it was vinyl or tape, and taping music was usually done from the Bbc’s radio’s top 40 countdown on a Sunday evening. There wasn’t cheap stereo’s like you got these days either, no Argos or Comet back then, so you made do with what you had, and I loved that little black cassette deck I had. For hours I would sit and listen to either radio tapes, things taped from vinyl or tapes that friends would do for you. One song that sticks in my mind from that angst ridden acne faced teenage era is ‘The Chauffer’ by Duran Duran. The song is so spooky with a definite edge - it still makes me tingle even now. I guess for many it’s largely an unknown track of theirs but for the fans it still remains very popular. When I saw them 2 years ago at Wembley they played it and I had this sudden rush of nostalgia.

Ironically a few other Duran Duran songs that bring back memories too.

So here’s ‘The Chauffer’ in its uncensored glory.

Let's dance little stranger, show me secret sins

I found this on YouTube today, from Nouvelle Vague's - Bande A Parte. A classy little vid to the track 'Dance with me' from their latest album. I love the song, love the words, love the video! The song is a cover version of the Lords of the New Church track from the 80's, Nouvelle Vague covering mainly 80's stuff in their albums.

Limited Edition

To commemorate and celebrate the 'A Hobbit's Journal' reaching 10,000 web counters hit 'Pravda-Mint' in association with this blog have released a strictly limited edition Hobbit's Journal figurine.

This extravogant hand painted hobbit figure carved out of purest oak from Sherwood Forest is being offered to readers at the special price of £99 per month over 6 months, surely an unmissable offer that one will cherish in years to come. Order yours today!

Quote of the Week

Blanche from Coronation Street watching Jamie and Danny Baldwin have a punching match said;

'Southerners'

(I was eating my tea, I don't avidly watch the programme!!!)

Birthday Greets

Two friends have their birthdays today, so I thought I'd dedicate this video to them, I'm sure they appreciate it! The Song is called Happy Birthday by The Birthday Massacre.

10,000

So, I’ve eventually reached 10,000 hits, quite amazing as I only put my web counter on a month or so ago! (cough-cough).

It’s fair to say my blog is an important thing in my life though its not written daily, it is a more ‘as and when’ I feel I have something to say blog.

As always, a big thank you to my friend Pat who got me into blogging and of course for giving me some of his offbeat cynicism too. Thanks also to the other people out there for dropping by my little corner of the web with their comments and support.