"The Dark Knight Rises" review

"The Dark Knight Rises (and so should I, it's nearly 9)", let's state it right-away, was much better than I expected.

Hard as I tried to keep away from all reviews, I was aware of the fact that the filum didn't exactly meet with general approval ("Libération", for one, appear to have hated it).
Following on its, er, predecessor, "The Dark Knight" serves up a scenario that piles on the complexities and ambiguities of what constitutes "right" and "wrong", "good" and "bad" -no wonder the Fatamericans hated it! It doesn't do "clear-cut" and doesn't offer a finger-pointing morale wrapped in ribbons at the end -in other words, it is pure Nolans. (The Nolan brothers, that is.)

In political terms, it is equally difficult to label the filum "right-wing" or "left-wing" as both sides discovered to their embarrassment when they tried to reclaim and/or denounce it, only to look very foolish indeed. The revolting radio demagogue R*sh L*mb**sh tried, apparently. (And failed, as ever.)
Is "The Dark Knight" an apology of **********  ******? Kindof..., but then what about its stress on ************** ************  ****** at ****** right up the ****?
The ********* ****** ******* subplot is as clear an indictiment of ******** ********* as one can discern in this smogarsbord of twists and double-twists. Now watch the Nolans go and add *** ******** ************  ****** to the equation: this certainly throws the cats among the pigeons, does it not? Eh??

I rest me case.

 

ChristianBale does ChristianBale (and is getting pretty good at it by now); Tom Hardy is back on the steroids; Hathaway is ...OK. Certainly not bad, but nothing outstanding either (Miou Miou and Meryl Streep can rest easy). One may start to wonder whether her career will mimic Our Scarlett's, better known as the Alice "Clueless" Silverstone or David "Laughing Gnome" Bowie syndrome... Will she ever be able to best her "Princess Diaries" performance (gasps, swoons, faints, gasps again, squeals, blushes, goes and takes a cold shower)? Only time will tell.

Oh, and deffo felt she looked considerably better without the hideous blood red lipstick.

 

Talking of human brickhouse Hardy, it is worth noting there's quite a few beefy men about, and the filum is at times in danger of veering into Michael Mann territory. (Michael Mann is this guy who loooooves featuring massive men -usually in impeccable suits- wielding gigantic phallic firearms for some reason.) 

Thankfully, the inspiration and tome remains mostly resolutely Gothic, cf. the variations on underground settings, weird masks, torches, inventive punishments, black as the new black,  etc. I am pretty sure "Arkham Asylum" is one of the main inspirations behind the movie (but I read the comic 20 years ago, so yous'll have to forgive me if my memories are a bit vague by now).

 

Scratches his chin Loig, it's a good thing that the series is coming to an end though (or is it?????) as the voice gimmick was getting a bit grating, methought: it is frankly hard at times to understand what your man -or your man, for that matter- is saying.

Hans Zimmer provides his usual crashing-atmospheric soundtrack to the proceedings; Michael Caine still blows the blahdy doors off after all these years (as well as various motorcars, buildings, neighbourhoods, whatever); our friends ******** ******** and ******* ********* turn up for a fun cameo -always welcome!; Marion Cotillard still holds an inexplicable attraction for Christopher Nolan.

Now then for some major tut-tutting: having Clark Kent wake up at the end in a "it was all a dream", bizarre cross-superhero, ending was a bit cheeky I felt (even though consistent with "Inception" or "Memento"). Talk of final twists, who could have ever seen this one coming eh!!

Still eh, all in all pretty good.

Typically accomplished script by the Nolan lad that revisits topics from previous instalments and offers variations on the themes, ties up various loose ends, and even manages to integrate ingenious references to recent political/social events such as the ********12******xu**** *******, the ******* ay caramba ******* ****** ** ** -or even the **** ****** of *********** ********* **** **** *** ******** ****! Nice touch there, I think yous will agree. Very topical. 

 

 

A batty (batty: geddit??????????!!!!) 7 out of 10 mark.

 

 

 

Reply | Reply to all | Forward | Print | De

YKY2.0-1 (subject to re-editing obviously)

A Umao'Gil production 0080012 "Here we go!"

Chapter 1
Days Of Thunder --------------------------------------------------------
Soundtrack: Spacemen 3 "Big City, Bright Lights"



"De la puta madre!"

Café-en-Seine on a Friday night and the tension is brutal. Myself and G. have just gained entrance to and are assessing the situation. Left... right... receding hairline, cut of their stitch, shoulders, bum... -we're on recon mission scoping the pre(o)mises. We're sussing, we're checking, but of course we're not looking -that'd be so fecking cheap! Sooo unrefined, and we are not, let it be known, not the uncouth type. Besides, can't make it too obvious eh. I'd say the main talent of a hunter resides in his -or her- cunning and stealth. Discretion is everything, discretion is the key, and I suppose I'm the one to ask: my recent record pretty much bears proof to how invisible I've become of late... Discretion's my middle name -unlike some other people whose name I won't spell out lest I should sound like I'm slagging me homegirl. Hence our foray into tonight, Georgie and me.

I like to think of myself as clued up. I like to think of Café-en-Seine as a cute choice: you get there, it's a suntan salon heaven! Washboard stomachs and realigned teeth. But Georgie begs to differ. Georgie reckons it's full of poseurs, thinks we should pass on that one ("I mean, it's not like Dublin's running short on pubs is it!"). Fast forward two hours of debate in my kitchen (and half a dozen Bacardis), and we are giving it another try. If only for my sake (thank you G., this is where I scored last! xxx). The way I lie to myself now, as I get all icequeen and not at all bovvered, it's just us two, some girlies passing through this joint. It's just us dropping in for a quick drink. ...A quiet drink at Dublin's Café-en-Seine on a Friday night.


We're like inside the place now. Scope, scope, scope.
To be fair, not much hunk stands out. Not much male sets the pulse alight. At first sight, all I can see is your run-of-the-mill polo and jeans. Even worse: jacket with jeans (!!). A lot of stubble too.
But we're in the place is the main thing, and can now advance in friendly territory. Glance to the left, glance to the right, proceed. We slide our way through the throng as efficiently as female elbows will allow -i.e. not an awful lot. It's like an assault course in here, this scene doesn't give in too easily. A bit like life I guess, you have to dive in and fight your way. A bit like life maybe -but with colognes coming at you from all corners. People's armpits, my nose level -makes for a fragrant equation as we soldier on regardless and hope for the best. Take the dive, suck it and see...

The Babel of voices that passes as the Celtic Tiger's soundtrack beckons: I can distinguish affected English-from-England, French, Spanish, German, Louditalian, Eastern European (that would be mainly from the staff) and, at long last, some good old Dub. Earnestly discussing the state of rugby. ...That would be blokes. Blokes are just weird. Like it's Sat'day night in Dublin, I'll tell yous what lads: Why don't we all go down the classy bars and just discuss rugby? In Dawson Street. The perfect place. Next thing you know, they go on holiday in Spain, and spend their time in a pub watching Sky Sports eating fish and chips. Men are just weird.
I take it these ones are Leinster fans. Leinster are (is?) the local team, the club de rigiour for any self-respecting D 4 type. Mainly -and that much I know- it is the club of Ireland's official number one sex-symbol: Brian "O'Driscoll" Drico. The B.O.D. himself. Your man is sometimes spotted about town, regularly sighted going on about his business -but not by myself yet. (Maybe I should get down to the stadium sometime, that'd help.) Right now, I'm only scouting Café-en-Seine, this super swanky "drinking emporium" that would give any French brothel a run for its money. Not that I would be familiar with French brothels either.

"To be perfectly honest wit you, another couple of deals like this one and I'll be good to go and retire in Dubai my good man! Strike it while it's hot! And then cheerio, that's me done -on my holiers forever! Just imagine: Dubai eh... Playing golf all day, chillaxing on the beach with them rich bitches in bikinis... -Bring it on!"
"For real?"
"For real. Right now, all the indicators are go, the feeling is on -All I need now, really, is close -what?- three or four more no more. Or five or six at the max and then... Happy days! Serious! Right now, we're currently working on a new securitisation package that will blow your socks off! Watch - this - space! It's proper mental rates we anticipate, can only rise even more with the derivatives involved! Win win situation, mate."

Georgina and I are shimmying our way through cool as you like. We're swinging it with as much nonchalance as another couple of Sunrises (Georgie's treat) and a Tropical Reef (mine) downed on our way allows us. Funny that, but feel quite sloshed already. In high spirits, oh high "spirits"'s the right word -see what I've done here!!!! The main thing is, maintain your dignity. Maintain at any cost. Right now, the world sways pleasantly enough, all around me -the problem is, I'm not even moving. Am kind of stuck. Try as we do, our valiant efforts to move forward have not exactly met with unqualified success. We haven't made much progress in the -oh- three/ten minutes that we got here and now me bladder's playing up. Blame it on the sudden heat, the human steam, the general din... but it's brutal. Undeniable -even in my present state. I don't feel well, all of a sudden. All this exaggerated laughter from all directions, these after-shave assaults, the place is heaving and so could I any time soon. Clearly, two packs of mature paprika crisps and a low-fat prawn sambo are nowhere near nourishment enough for a growing girl such as myself.

To take my mind off the ghost of a surge in my abdominal region (ewwww), I decide to apply my naturally legendary sagacity to our whereabouts: what's the story here then?

Well, pretty much as could be expected at this stage of the game...
Revellers come and revellers go, leaving only personal whiffs behind. Look here, I'm not saying that the smoking ban was wrong but... I'd have to say that, ever since it came into practice, odours that once were masked are no longer hidden. Some odours... or in plain English: B.O. -God some people stink! Like total gag, yeah! You'd be surprised, and I'm not just talking about morning -or even worse, evening- commute on the LUAS; even in this swankiest of places you come nose to chest with some mighty fly magnets! That weird mixture of sticky shirt sweat and expensive perfume liberally splashed on top... I know it's been a long day but... there is some serious yuck in here!

Cedarwood Sunrise by Jean-Hubert de D. somewhere on my right (-top drawer, that!), Cristal Fatal in that blonde's wake on my left. After a while, you get to recognise quite a few of them. There may be hundreds of flagrances about, but people can only afford / stick to a dozen. Past the first couple of years, that Jean-Paul Gaultier yoke totally lost its mystery, its novelty factor ...and got adopted by proper skangers -no way back then.

"I could spend hours listening to you... When I'm with you, I don't know why, I feel so relaxed... At long last I can be myself..."
"Oh you handsome swine, how could I resist you..."
"No creo que es una rubia, cabron"
"The index is up, the prospects hot -it's all good, knowwhatImean!"

The jungle's rumbling. What else have we got here...:
Someone's clearly been let loose with her other half's card at Brown Thomas this very afternoon: check out the top-to-bottom that's been freshly liberated from its packaging! I can deffo make out the creases of her outfit as she strikes a pose in a -like- totally casual way.

Next to the clotheshorse, a not even thirty-something (worth going on fifty in my book) is modelling the "golfer" look –and you know what they say about golf kits… (It’s white men’s excuse for dressing up as a black pimps.) Feel tempted to tell your man. Think I'll refrain.


A hot waiter waltzes by, holding aloft a tray that so must weigh at least a ton; does so as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Your man sniffily arrows his way through the circle jerk of rugger bugger fans and merges back into the fray with not a care in the world for their undoubtedly gripping tactical talk. The circle instantly reseals itself before the next attempt upon its safety zone cos’ that’s the thing though: ‘you ever noticed no matter where you stand in a crowd –there’s always someone ‘needs to walk right through your very spot!

As I negotiate my way past your basic dayglo rococo pillar (i.e. crowned by an understated kaleidoscopic ceramic statue of a Greek bodybuilder god holding up a deep red crystal vase overflowing with cascading vines that spread out under the suspended three-tier Art Deco crystal chandelier), I lose my footing for a second. Bending down to readjust the strap, what - do - I - spot?
A pair of Blahniks! A pair of actual Blahniks under a parade of legs that rise all the way to an an excuse of a miniskirt slash kitchen apron -dear me, she hasn’t left much to discover has she? Standing up, I sneak a look and almost gasp at the fakeness of the owner’s face: there’s been a load of work gone into these diagonal cheekbones and fulsome lips! Nose: drawn with a compass. Skin: flawless. In fact, some might even call it foldless ...like unnaturally super-tight, yeah? Like lifted almost as high as her panty line. Surely she mustn't be able to blink for fear of losing control of her bowels!

I'm thinking this, I'm thinking that, and then I realise I don't actually mean it. Standard kneejerk reaction, that. Basic jealousy. If anything I probably feel for her: she must be, what, post second divorce age range, but clearly's decided she won't give up just yet. She ain't going down without a fight and we ought to respect that. What she's saying here is she's still good to go, she’s still up for it, and so if money can buy her ten more years -well that's her choice to make. Fair play to her, says I -and then I realise, ten minutes later on reflection, that she was a he.

(Of The Varied Uses Of "fair play to you", A Little Vocabulary Lesson:
-"And a very good morning to you Philomena, you look radiant! Any news on the grand-child situation yet?"
-"Indeed I have: Clauda gave birth to a baby boy last night!"
-"Oh did she? Fair play to her!"

A Quick Note On Lineker's Wankitude.

Quick recap: during the coverage of Olympic swimming last Saturday evening, the BBC anchorman suddenly broke into one of his little faces and wittily informed us that "if that console you, Germany is still also waiting for its first (gold?) medal". Now some people have argued that it didn't much mean much in the great scheme of things -Here is why I disagree.

1) Lineker's sudden aside was uncalled for, petty, pathetic, irrelevant, snidey, and playing on the stinking anti-germanic vibe that affects so many people in the UK. Talk about bringing the tone down! (see later on that subject). Quite what "Germany" in its entirety has to do with a British athlete being bested in the swimming pool is a puzzling question.

2) Mr. Lineker is a national media broadcaster. He is not your man down the pub -who is totally free to express any rank old bollix (and usually does so at every opportunity). Mr. Lineker therefore has a duty of self-restraint and decency.

3) More importantly, he is a BBC employee, which means he somehow represents the nation. The nation, as well as the licence payers who contribute to his enviable lifestyle.

4) More importantly still: why his little faux-pas (oops, sorry, foreign expression!) is particularly saddening. His attack of gracelessness came, what, not even 24 hours after the admittedly generous, open-hearted, and uplifting ceremony devised by Danny Boyle that aimed to show the world how welcoming, thrilling and forward-looking the UK can be. ...Head desktop repeated interface.

What Gary Lineker actually reminded us of is that he is first and foremost a football man. A football man at his most unplesasant ridicule.

Sure, some will retort (see above) that Lineker's remark is no big deal in the long run. That would be correct: it's just a would-be witty but in fact cretinous soundbite. But if you go down that road, well... you can always find worse. Always. Does that mean we shouldn't keep our standards up? Does that mean we should let everything pass and just consume what is fed us passively, irresponsibly? That's a tough one alright.

I would argue that one should aspire to better; one should not benevolently condone a race to the bottom, tiny steps by tiny steps. Sure, I certainly agree: Lineker hasn't explicitly insulted anyone. ...He's just stirred up some people's dormant feelings against an entire foreign nation, that's all.

Now please compare and contrast. The parents of British medallists Lizzie Armitstead and Rebecca Adlington were being interviewed on BBC1 this Monday morning. "We felt a little bit sorry for the French girl, with the reaction to Becky," said Adlington’s dad of the 400m freestyle yesterday in which his daughter won bronze and France’s Camille Muffat gold. Now THAT is what the Olympics are about, Mr. Lineker.
Rebecca's dad, we salute you -and congratulate your daughter on her lifelong terrific efforts.

　

OG Ceremony Report (subject to re-editing)

As Her Majesty parachuted safely in the centre circle, the industrial revolution gave birth to Dizzie Rascal and the giant dancing McDonal'ds TM fries got switched off one by one by machinegun totting squaddies, Uma wiped a solitary tear of excitement and helped herself to another cuppa. So far so good. The boy Doyle -he who got immortalised in the song "Danny Boyle Oh Danny Boyle"- had done good. Mancunia: 1 - Rest of the world: 0.

Why, in between the sprouting fountains of Coca Cola TM, rising NHS beds and bursts of Techno Faceless Bollix, he managed to give us a cameo by Our Daniel aka James Bond!!!!!!!!1 (drool). Our Daniel's stint was -like- totally ace and deffo fab. Didn't see this one coming, not least after dropping a penguin on him carrying the torch at PaddyPower earlier during the afternoon. Now one will obviously refrain from commenting on Boyle's featuring of "God Save The Queen" (and "Pretty Vacant" to boot!) by revolting young scoundrels The Sax Pistols in the presence of Her Majesty. We had a good laugh nonetheless.

It was good to see our friend Kenneth Branagh, Mike Oldfield, the 'Ctics, Sir Paul, Muse, thousands of perfectly choreographed volunteers, totally eco-friendly Bhopal Union Carbide TM neon signs, seven billion MasterCard TM statements falling off the sky, actual lambs cavorting about on dew dripping pastures of (-that's enough, Ed.). In the end, GoldenBollix didn't get to light up that cauldron yoke which is a shame -criminally overlooked David Beckham could do with a bit of media exposure.

I wasn't aware of the fact that Dizzie Rascal "Bonkers" belongs to the "grime" genre -I call it dance music myself- but Trevor Nelson must be right. Talking of which, since the cheeky scallywag managed to slip in a couple of shout-outs to his sis, I would like to gratuitously mention my own agent Malcolm McLaren, bessie Emer C., sponsor Bodyform TM, inspiration Tabatha Cash and contact number @loig7san. So there.

Emotional moments: the tribute to the "7/7" London Tube and bus bombings (there was a remarkable documentary about it recently on BBC2) and Muhammad Ali. Life can be as cruel as it can be beautiful.

In the fckwit category, no event of British public life would be complete without a T*ry making an arse of himself. Enter "the right and honourable" (sic) Aidan Burley who called the ceremony "multicultural crap" ( http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2012/jul/28/olympics-opening-ceremony-multicultural-crap-tory-mp ). ...Mr Burley is better known for having lost his government job after attending a Nazi-themed stag party.


And now for the real question: them Olympian flagbearers eh... Who was the hottest? Well Uma thought long and hard about it, and here are the results.
-In first place, we must have Our Katie (Taylor, Ireland). Cos' that's a fact.
-Serious contender: Djibouti (stunner)
-a tie between Chile, Colombia (I like them South American girls) and Marshall Islands
-Finland, Iceland, Norway (slighty more Aryan)
-Sao Tome and Principe
-Morocco, Liberia, Iraq
-late entry by Guam and Luxembourg. In Uma's famously charitable worldview, you're all winners!
(The UK could only get multigoldmedalled Sir Chris to lead the parade -but he's a bloke.)

This concludes our first report on twenty-twelve (-Reader's voice: ?!!!?????!). Stay tuned for beach-volleyball, MarsBars TM speed-eating, French women football gold-medal winning, and Jessica Ennis perving. Peace yo'all! Uma declares these Olympics open.

Our Katie, the other day:



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISy0Hl0SBfg
On the subject of young mr. Rascal, here is a classic moment in recent British TV as El Paxo meets his match: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tM1XrVVVBAk

You Kow Yourself 2.0 Prologue (end)

Prologue suite -copyright Uma o'Gil 0012



/ Except they don't say that, of course. They say / "...Belinda Savage who's at present reporting from the Garden of Serenity and McFergus Enterprises where an old man is being buried. Over to you Derek."


-Derek: "Much obliged Moira."
-Moira: "Good man yourself."

(Deep breath)
-Derek: "And so we continue our coverage of the Koszak funeral -or rather her husband's- in this glorious Dub day that sees us gathered outside the Koszak mansion on a ladder to pay our respects and try to get a piece of the action. I was just after remarking to Belinda -and believe me when I tell yous I don't want to come across all sanctimonious or level-headed here- how utterly dignified everyone's been, how they've behaved themselves throughout the ceremony. Not a word higher than the other, not a cough, not even a discreet fart during the sermon -quite impressive really. Why, some might say our hosts look like they've been specially bodytrained and PR'd for the occasion!"
-Belinda: "That's right Derek, and it would seem our mourners have been rehearsed big time -But then again, this is only the sixth Social Funeral of the season, I guess they're getting the hang of it by now."


/ These two can't stand the smell of each other, they've been at the Chief Ed's throat and kecks for days in order to get this gig! Belinda may be as light-headed as Ozzie beer but she's no mug when it comes to enhancing her profile oh no: got the work done on old Jessie dinn't she! And see her now, fannying about on prime-time crap like it's her God-given right -Result! Ah yes, the bint will go places. ...If only for five minutes. As for Derek, God have mercy on the sad clown. Only last week, 'managed to get himself caught with the make-up queen. 'Moron's not even gay -he's just trying to make himself look interesting; he knows the game is up and is dying to make it through to the central pages while he's still in with a chance! Sadly for him, even the bottom feeders aren't biting. /


-Derek: "Which reminds me, this global warming lark... I'm not saying anything here, right? but come to think of it, I seem to distinctly remember, growing up as a bright lad all of these moons ago -go on lass, you're supposed to jump in and protest it wasn't so long ago ha ha- well anyway (!!), so growing up as one did then on the farm, I remember summers used to be pretty warm actually. Pretty warm indeed... Now I am not suggesting anything here mind, I'm just stating some basic facts. But there you go. Global warming they say? ... I rest me case."
-Belinda: "Absolutely. Absolutely I'd have to reinforce with you Derek, it's like there'd be periods like -really warm right? and then dead cold!"
-Derek: "These would be called seasons. But never mind -Now look who's here! Who could it be, making his grand entrance but none other than rebel chef Jean-Baptiiiste DeLaRue the-man-himself! Accompanied by the lovely Anastacia -Anastacia (sic) who exclusively revealed to us, all of last year, how it felt to be left outside of love ('poor thing got a cold, is what). Jean-Baptiste DeLaRue then... who clearly couldn't find the time to comb his rebel hair, see him Belinda: his trademark half-quiff? All over the place!"
-Belinda: "I find it quite sexy actually."
-Derek: "...Right. At this stage of the game -I'll tell you what, great help Belinda-, at this stage of the game I feel a bit cheeky, I am almost tempted to bring in Moira. Moira are you here? are you receiving? Could you define for us -with your own professional expertise of course- the current style of Jean-Baptiiiste's rebel hair? How would you call it?"
-Moira: "Derek."
-Derek: "Moira."
-Moira: "Derek. Well, 'seems to me, our Jean-Bapt' here is opting for a, er, totally new strand of rebel hair in keeping with his rebel super-chef status: low on constricting structural bouffant, high on impetuosity and innovation. Hints of nonchalonce, shades of creativity -this is a man in a hurry, and not one for conventions. Typically Gallic I'd say."
-Derek: "How about that eh. "Impetuosity and nonchalonce". Isn't that spot-on though, dear viewers? isn't that the very thing itself! Why, you're on fire today Moira, you really are -dead on the money! 'Don't mind telling you: in all modesty, even I couldn't have put it any better meself. ...Would you, Belinda?"
-Belinda: "!?!?? Like yes! absolutely! Absolutely I wouldn't have, er... -Absolutely not, yeah!"


/ Hello hello, what's going on here? Fifteen - love by the sound of it, did the old fart grow himself a new set of balls or? /


-Derek: "You know what Belinda, that just reminded me. You know Jean-Baptiiiiste's smash-hit programme -on TTE naturally- "Chef Challenge Ultimate" -you know the one, yes? Well you will remember how I once took part..." (pauses)
-Belinda: "Er... 'course I do, and totally grand you were"
-Derek: "...It was for last year's exciting charity bash: the "Sprogs In Need All-Week TTE Special", featuring only little aul' me and a whole bunch of super celebs. Well, Bell, what happened was -you will remember- we were asked to take up the "Jean-Baptiiiste Challenge Ultimate". What we had to do, right?, we had to help prepare a meal for them Southside kiddies reduced to wear tracksuit bottoms! Yikes! Save our sprogs from a skanger life!"
-Belinda: "Fair fucks to you, Derek"
-Derek: "Well, Jean-Baptiiiste himself was involved naturally, he took the time to guide us through the kitchen in his chequered pantaloons and rebel hair... Now I don't mind telling you this Bels: it was - simply - the - toughest - hour of my life it was! Absolute nightmare!! That day alone I learnt so much! -I simply learnt more than in my previous (cough) 41 years together and -quite frankly- I have to literally take my hat off to any chef who can rustle up a meal in his kitchen! Art form and no mistake."
-Belinda: "How right you are Derek, like... totally. I think Jean-Bapt is quite sexy actually."


/ .......... And what about Clio, come a long way has our Clio. Only five years ago, she was planning on producing some conscience raising features that would make your man sit up and take notice -or she'd tell me over coffee. She wanted to uncover and expose, kick up the termite mound, outVeronica Guerin Veronica Guerin -minus the lead in the head, mind- and here she is, five years later ...reading the news headlines, employed to interject enthusiasm into that shite. ... At the end of the day someone has to, I guess. Might as well be her. It's all in the presentation, all in the whipping up -Fair fucks to Clio if she can make it sound important. "So-and-So goes into rehab! So-and-So falls off the wagon again!" ...It's all in the whipping up all right. No fade-out here, just a straight cut to /

"...and I suppose, in a real sense, wouldn't it be fair to claim that Dermot, like, revolutionised the Dublin skyline?"
-Whoever: "Oh absolutely, like totally. And I'd even add that, without him, Dublin simply wouldn't be what it is today, what with his contribution and all you know? Oh yes, how many times did I remark on it meself! I grow up a proud Dub... -I see it change beyond recognition! It's like this Derek: Every day I drive up to my gallery on Leeson St., I reflect on these changing times we're going through and I... take stock. I ponder, see? That's what our friend would have done himself -he'd have pondered! What Dermot did, see, his genius is he looked around, he noted how these changing times were evolving, he thought this through -and he effected them, cool as you like! Went unashamedly proactive and pushed the envelope rrrrright off the table -with outstanding results, I think we all agree! Some pretty convincing results, oh aye. I mean, a full 21 holes course by the Liffey... Who'd have come up with that but our Dermot!"

/ In his own way, Derek's a pro and a half: see him rinse this small beer for hours on end, truly the man has no shame. He's in his element: yak yak yak -and no actual conversation at the end, no point ever made. Some people are like that though... Silver tongue stylists, piss artists of the highest order. They take to freestyling as dogs take to vomit, it comes to them naturally and they will lap it up till we run out of tape. /

-Derek: "You are so right, I mean... a golf course smack in the heart of the Northside -what an inspired idea!"

/ And on and on. Stand-by for the church yoke, it's about time. /

-Derek: "...this is "not technically legal" -well it won't be Kosher either ha ha!- but anyway we've managed to stick a mike inside last night, and we should be able to catch yous some juicy bits, the best of Father De Bisis's eulogy -What do you think of that eh! The holy man himself in his own words! (......That is, if our techno nerds can be bothered to turn it up a bit... !!) Aaaah there you are, I know you can barely contain yourself Belinda, this is Father De Bisis speaking, let's hear him now:


"Tremble ye not oh humble man but get rejoicing! Rejoice I tell you! Hear our voice, take our heed, share with us in this hour of grief -grief but also celebration... Celebrate the reprobate! Clasp him to your ample bosom and give him a big sloppy kiss! As the Angel said unto the Prophet as He opened a crate of milk: Aye up, slave of Israel! For thy day wilt come, the day of all days before the following night, and ye shalt endeavour to beget Jerezaiah, who begat Ishmael, who begat Rachel, who begat Elsinior, who begat Barack, who begat Necromingian, who begat Oscar, who begat Dunstorum who sowed the first seed upon the salt -and he saw that it was good. "Yyyyyyessss!" shouted he, and lo! another ten storeys were raised and -by Gomorrah and the Bono!- if the wicked Council did not approve my daring throw of the dice initially but I was determined -determined, I tell thees- to prove them wrong, and wrong I proved them.

Mediocre bureaucrats that they were, penpushers in thermal underwear turned inside out on alternate days, they lacked vision so they did. They could not see the potential shopping-mall for the meadow, they could not see the car-park for the trees -but I did, oh I did... So what I actually done was, I had a very civil chat in private with Charlie -and the deal was accepted. Alleluia! Glory be and up the Dubs! At this pivotal switch in my destiny change, I lividly remember -vividly too- getting down on my knees right there and then on Charlie's very own carpet and thanking the Good Lord for His merciful bounty. Thank the Lord for verily He giveth, and He giveth again to those that are truly deserving I correctly observed. It came clear to me in a flash, like a veritable thunderbolt from the heavens: I felt the power! I felt the power that these dusty bureaucrats could never see in their heathen land register, their godless Health and Safety guidelines -Pah! A pox on their (council) houses! Verily blessed be the builders, for they're the ones that charge upon where others dare not tiptoe, they're the ones that see the road is long, long and not properly equipped with regularly spaced prime spot adequate advertising facilities yet.

That moment I remember. That moment I remember well. Down on me knees I was, Charlie not far around, with all these sacred lines ringing through my bowed head and I knew -I KNEW- that the good fight was on my side and that Our Lord, in His infinite mercy, would prevail upon this Earth and in particular the semi-derelict quayside portion of D 8. It was an opportunity too good to be overlooked, and so it came to pass -Amen!"

/ Goes on for quite a while. And then some. /

"...for what does he tell us, in his "Epigram To The Employees To Be Read On Sunday Next (Please Note: Does Not Count As Overtime)"? What does our brother Dermot tell us here? He says. "Let he cast the first stone if he wants to get the wall started" is what! Let the mason cast his stone! (Ontop a properly prepared foundation -one third Sandycove sand, two third good hard Fenian concrete, shake well before usage and let it rest no more than a day, we're on the clock here.) Let the builder erect, says Dermot! Let the carpenter carpent! Let the glass blower blow! Let him blow I tell thees!! And blow down all obstacles for these times -brothers and sisters, various employees-... these times they're a changing so they are! Let nothing stand in the way of progress, he says here. Out with the forces of reaction, out with them poxy health and safety regulations! Red tape? We are done with you! Step back, step back, and vade retro ye parasitic legislatic onanistic leather-elbowed clerk from days of yore! Step down ye hear, step down and make way: Let Dublin rise at long last, let it rise, rise up and sprout!"
-Audience: "Hear hear! Bring the noise! Jerusalem here we come! Where's me jumper?"
-Priest: "This great city of unparalleled infrastructural renovation potential... This half-Eden of emerald stone defiantly set in the shadow of godless unionism... This...-Ireland!!"
-Audience: "Keanooo, there's only one Keano, there's only one Keano"
-Priest: "Ireland, standing shoulder to shoulder! Ring hosanna ring! Chim chim chimeney! Bang the bell ding-a-ling! We woz lost -now we are saved! For the future is upon us, it's coming down -oh yeah it is- and we couldn't be more merrier! No we couldn't -even if we went and played brother Daniel O'Donnell himself! Rejoice, yees all! Rejoice, for -praise be to brother Dermot- we have now seen the future oh yes we have! We have seen it, we have taken its measurements, we have stared it down... and we have razed it to the ground!! Alleluia! That's right, razed it to the ground!!"
-Audience: "Far out my man! Well said, that! Only massive! Onwards Christian soldiers into the valley of death! Take me to the bridge! Take me to the bridge! Ireland 1 - Italy 0! Anyone got any Vera?" (Crowd cheers; cheer dies down.)

*****

/ Must have drifted off cos' when I come to, where do I find ourselves than in the cemetery already! (Oops...) Looks like we've moved on then, must have switched to automatic at some stage... For how long I cannot tell: after a while, pre-digested phrases just wash over you and no longer register, inane small chat pours in through the ears ...and evaporates instantly. Hypnotised, we get. We fall in a cathodic trance only broken by the jolt in volume announcing ad breaks. (Ad breaks, or take a leak breaks to give them their proper name.) Anyway. Could think of worse places to wake up to than here: there's greenery all round, and lovely mounds of flowers. Finely pruned branches sway gently in the breeze, birds flutter about unconcerned -that'd make a smashing spot for a picnic, that. ...But let's-rejoin-our-commentators: /

-Belinda: "...literally costing up to twelve thousand or so my sources tell me, it features three interlaced garlands of miniature blood-free diamonds, 'specially hand-sewn on by children -they've got smaller hands, that's why"
-Derek: "Good call there!"
-Belinda: "...and that's nothing, compared to what me sister's given me to wear at the February fashion awards -thought I might mention it, may I...?"
-Derek: "By all means Belinda, the mike is yours."
-Belinda: "Grand! Now the thing is though, it's not like proper presenting yeah, what I’ll be doing on the night is"

/ The pin-up du jour pauses casually, making sure her right leg rests somewhat extended in front of her supporting one, which in turn pushes her bum up and bust out (flash photography may occur at this point). The desiccated religious mantis parades her latest toy boy before the throng of cameras /

"the lovely Bernadette Egan -heiress to the Egan canned food dynasty- takes a leisurely stroll with her protégé interior designer Philip Murgoyne round the patio; here we can see them, admiring the chrysanthemums and sniffing talcum powder off the back of their hands. How utterly delightful Belinda, how very peacesome"

/ Some bozo shows off his logo splattered top and thinks we haven't noticed. Not to be outdone, some clearly thirsty halfwit waves a recognisably shaped bottle of carbonated sugar soda at the camera, the same 30 centilitres bottle he's been holding up for the last two hours under the sun. Years ago, there was this joke doing the rounds about the forthcoming Tyson fight: apparently, Mike's designated punch-bag would be sporting advertising ...on the sole of his boots. The expected knock-out later, it turned out to be anything but a joke. Now the thing is, Coke ain't no mugs either. They knew exactly what they were doing when they expressly commissioned a weirdly shaped bottle. Paid off, it did...

/ "Posh "Vicky" Beckham, looking stunning in her safety net bikini, engrossed in conversation with Liam Gallagher; charming Glenda Gibbon, fresh from breaking up with hunky GAA star Dara Mahooney, imparting important news to a Polish waitress"

/ How did we allow this to happen? When did we let our guard down? Gradual compromissions... careless acceptance... 'must have snaked its way through the back-door -Talking of which: /

-Belinda: "Absolutely, couldn't put it any better, but I would say this to Mads though:" (deep breath here) "Mads, at this cruellest hour of all hours and this moment in time chips may be down right it's like you'd think there's no light at the end of the tunnel obviously you must feel utterly devastated but see Mads looking at the bigger picture at the end of the day it's always the darkest hour before dawn you could probably say that and I hope I'm not out of line here is what Dermot would have wanted yeah?" (permission to exhale)
"When a door closes a window op"

/ zzzzz... /

..."in association with Blurp Insurance -"Blurp Insurance, the power to"- and the question was: tell us the name of the town that which has been so wonderfully revitalised by our dearly departed, good old Dermot. Is it... A) Limerick? B) Dublin? or C) Timbuktu? You'll kick yourself when you hear the answer!"

/ Cut from the announcer, close-up on the junkie clotheshorse, don't be shy Deco, have no fear re. the lighting on her Botox -that complexion would withstand a nuclear attack! /

"...wonderful occasion, so many emotions going through my head, I don't know where to start really, am literally speechless... is what he would have wanted, am so touched by all these messages of support, overwhelmed really ....these spontaneous messages, your man on the street... Dub' born and bred who -and I suppose, in a real sense- in their own way got equally touched by Dermot's vision. Literally."

/ "Your man on the street" -nice touch here! Not at all patronising, the right side of populist. Why of course pal, we're all in all this together... -after all we share the same post-codes, don't we? We share the same smog. I always relish these exercises in self-promotion, whenever you point a camera at them. Your man seldom lets you down. Wants to look good, wants to sound bright. Switched on, clued up. Such is the appeal, the glamour of appearing on the telly... the proverbial some of us are in the gutter -and jerking off at the stars. /

"...turns out she was Marty's wife. His legally wedded wife! How dreadfully unimaginative of him if you ask me... Tut, tut! ... Oh well, I suppose, what with Martin being officially dyslexic and all, I guess we can count this as an achievement on her part right?"
-Belinda: "For real!"

/ Prepare for the link-up, remind the monkey in his tuxedo, close-up on the airhead. Then hand-over to more time-filler and prepare for the wrap.

Too right you are, Des': the starched automats have all behaved impeccably, they've all done their PR proud. A right credit to their brands and sponsors they've been! ...Now I'm not too sure this was a day-we'll-never-forget tough: you and I know full well we have a team ready for whoever next. Death is pretty much inevitable. The wheel keeps turning. The minute Mads closes the door on the rest of her life with her (cough) adopted male model son, the clock will start ticking for the next one. Featuring the same faces, surfing on the same one-liners. Primetime demands, setting may vary -Is what the public wants, right? /

"...and may I just say what an honour it has been to actually spend it with you, an absolute pleasure. Literally."




 ------------------------------------------------ end of prologue ------------------------------------------

Notes On Balancing Acts.

When you embark on a defined character or a story, you constantly have to allow for its alternative.

What do I mean by that?
-Famously, a sci-fi writer will always leave the door open for an alternative explanation (the worst one being "-and then he woke up.").
-A joke is based on ambiguous premises that can lead to two intepretations, with the punch-line being the unexpected one.
-Emotional scenes -could be humorous, tragic or sentimental ones- work as releases from narration of a more understated, banal, factual nature.
-A "one-dimentional" character will need a foil to stand in (usually more rational) contrast and underline his main characteristic: Sancho Panza and Don Quijote, Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes, etc.

Check "The Great Gatsby", Palahniuk's doppelgangers, Frasier's dad, "Twin Peaks"'s sheriff, "Monk"'s (supercutie :-)) Nathalie and "Monk"'s cops duo (yes, they actually resort to that trick twice!), Superman and Lois Lane, Mulder and Scully, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Hulk and Bruce Banner, Dracula and Van Helsing, "The Magus", "Bad Day At Black Rock", "Great Expectations", "Heart Of Darkness", "Yes Prime Minister", Wooster and Jeeves, Peggy at the start of "Mad Men", Dexter's voice-over monologues, Dirty Harry and all the cops who "don't play by the rules" etc.

Usual gimmick here: the new-character-in-town or child/innocent figure to whom everything has to be explained/presented by a figure of authority/knowledge -cf. "Due South", "Northern Exposure", "The Road", "Lord Of The Rings", "Star Wars", etc.


On a slight aside, just as Homer Simpson works best in conjunction with Lisa, it is often claimed that rock bands excel due to the artistic/personal tension between the two main creative forces at their core: Pink Floyd, the Beatles, Husker Du, Bauhaus, Japan, the Rolling Stones, the Who, Siouxsie, the Police, the Ramones, Fleetwood Mac etc. The fact that, once they split up, the resulting spin-off bands or solo acts hardly ever match their previous output has to be significant.

...like every good system, it's about dynamics.

Remember that a scenario is primarily -rather than a would-be "good story"- a homogenous system where all elements have to work in conjunction with each other.

Now we get to another dimension when this necessary balancing act is jettisoned and we enter the realm of unnerving, hallucinatory "trips" such as the ones usually served by Cormac McCarthy ("Blood Meridian") or Bret Easton Ellis ("Glamorama")* where it could be argued that the whole world has gone mad. There is no sane, stabilising reference anymore and this may make for a pretty uncomfortable experience to some readers -"Finnegan's Wake", anyone? Burroughs, probably.

-"Alice In Wonderland" doesn't qualify for that status since the protagonist travels from and back to the real, sane world and constantly expresses bewilderment at what she experiences.
-On the other end, Kubrick gets there with "2001" by abolishing all known references, explanations and even dialogue for the final, 20+ minute, part of the movie: viz the fantastical adventure undertaken by his astronaut through dimensions.


*or Irvine Welsh ("Trainspotting") to some extent ...but not quite (if I remember correctly, there is one -originally- healthy character whose descent into drugs actually underpins the drama). With Welsh, the overloading effect is rather achieved by his use of language: the Scottish spelling and expressions that tend to throw the (non-Scottish) reader. ...A case for "A Clockwork Orange" as well, then.


...I obviously don't need to dwell on my interest in these tricks, heh heh.
Any comment: loig7san "at" gmail "dot" com

YKY2.00 Prologue.3

Uma o'Gil presents:


"Now who is it I can now see with my little eye -no, not that one you filthy mind- enjoying a stroll with Socially Pitiable Dyslexic Martin Connolly? ...Could it be Famed Temptress Paula Brummingham? could it?? Rrrrr, Paula you femme fatale you!! Wouldn't kick her out of bed myself if she-Actually noooo... No actually, I'm not so sure. I'm not so sure it is her now... May not be Paula Brummingham after all. ... Can anyone confirm? Confirm / deny? Is it Paula or not? Try as I might, I can't see shit through this garden hedge! 'Feckers 'grown it just to hide their guests from us! ..... Ah well, then maybe not on second thought. Hmm. Let's say it isn't Famed Temptress Paula Brummingham. Could it be Tallaght transvestite Dickless Tracey then? Hmmmm, neither I don't think so... (Godfeckindammit, can anyone come to my assistance here!!) Now saddle me on a pushbike with a KwikSave groceries bag and drop me at your Nan viewers, but I'm afraid I can't recognise the young lady presently shaking her money-maker next to Society Sanctioned Connolly! How annoying. ...Any idea as to whom she may be, hired help Belinda?"
-Belinda: "Woh-oh Derek, hold your horse here! You're -like- putting me on a hot spot! That blonde wan with the poxy heels and the boring fur knickers? -Well 'feck me in a hole if I can tell who she is! Now then, let's try though...

'Is not Wild Child Lara Trompton-Mewsley is it? No. This one's not kicking any foreign waitress. Maybe Sizzling Rehab Breakout Saskia Cahill? No, neither: can't see no joint dangling from any part of her body... It wouldn't be Senator Marie Curzcnak, would it? "Clothes Show" presenter Eimear Callahan? Sunday Tabloid Front-Pager Niamh o'Namara? Euro Crumpet Maria Vilverde de San Antonio (y Chupas a Gogo)? I'm literally wrecking me brains here, Derek! Can't think of who on Earth -or Dublin town- she could possibly be, it's doing me bonce in something proper!

Well I suppose... at the end of the day, we'll just have to -Oh. My. God.- Oh my God a thought just occurred to me Derek. Surely, surely it couldn't be... it couldn't be? ... Could your woman be ...a nobody??" (horrified gasp)
-Derek: "Ah don't be being silly now Bels, let me remind you this is a sombre occasion here -I'll tell you what though, we'll leave it at that and pretend that I myself -Derek Whelan at your service ladies 'n gentlemen- have been left floundering for once. ... Only joking! I'm sure one of our inside people working the staff will be able to find out her name. Capisce? There's a tenner in the offing."
-Belinda: "What an inspired suggestion, Derek! Like -totally fresh yeah! A tenner to the good and make it double quick, people -But you know what, Derek? All of a sudden I'm thinking. ... I'm thinking there is NO WAY Blondie here can be a downclass though. Hear me out, yeah? If she actually managed to get in in the first place, she must be like -you know- ...worth it? Well worth and connected! ....Know what I mean? (wink wink)"
-Derek: "By the Bono you must be right Bels lass! The very least she must have got up to to gain admission must have been -ooh I don't know- sleep with half the security! A-ha!! Have we found ourselves a sexscandal or what? Live on TTE! Just fancy that, viewers: a steamy sordid sexscandal in this day of all days! Eros and tornadoes! Could this be for real??"
-Belinda: "Oooh, deadly, see me -I'm shivering all over! Who on Earth could be so sexmad and determined? Who? Who could be so outrageous? This is like... so totally!"
-Derek: "Couldn't agree more Belinda. But obviously mustn't get carried away. Would hate to speak out of turns. Huh huh. Not me, not Derek Whelan. Cos' remember Belso, we at TTE have a mission to uphold, standards to maintain. Our valued viewers look up to us -and that's what makes us the winners that we are"
-Belinda: "Well said, that!"
-Derek: "and what our valued viewers know, it's that we don't want to be bringing the tone down on this day of all days, we can't possibly insist on this shocking sexscandal -oh no, our viewers' probity is too much of a credit to us. So you see Belinda, if it turns out there is indeed any jumped-up hanky-panky going on at McDermot mansion well... Well we'll just have to be mature about it Belinda. That's what we'll content ourselves with doing: we'll just be mature about it. Whose business it is and how often they're at it, where does it take place and what sick fantasies are being enacted -that's for our respected host to deal with. We're mere observers and have a duty to suspend judgement on this perverted upstart. She managed to get in -fair play to her.
Because at TTE, we take our mission seriously, very seriously indeed. And I think you will agree"
-Belinda: "Oh, I agree Derek that"
-Derek: "-Hang on sweetchops I'm not finished- I think you will agree our viewers need to be informed don't they. They need to be informed, as is only right and proper for any self-respecting news outlet -and mark my words, TTE is that kind of responsible news outlet. Our viewers need to be told what's what / who's who. More to the point, they need to know what's going on within these private walls, and what the other channels keep them in the dark about. Like who the hell this slapper is; what sordid details she got up to -and whether she'll have the decency to attend the fecking mass!
Now then Belinda, mull this over for a second... Wouldn't you say I have a point here?"
-Belinda: "Like totally, Derek!"
-Derek: "Good girl yourself. So what I suppose I'm saying here is... What I'm saying here is this: let's our reason keep, and let's -for the sake of the argument- apprehend the current situation this way" (pause) "OK, so let's accept this foxy peroxide blonde has indeed been squeezing the vinegar strokes out our very own dyslexic Marty -as is her absolute right in a free country- ...then, then let me ask you this Belinda. If that's the shocking case, who knows what else is going on out there? What else under our very noses and treacherously hidden away from our viewers! The mind boggles. Still and let's be crystal clear Belinda, it is my firm and solemn belief it is our responsibility -nay our duty- to inform on such matters -and that's out of respect for our audience."
-Belinda: "Right on Derek. We sure are duty bounded and that's the TTE pledge."

/ Deep sigh, let it pass. Can't be seen to twitch, let's pretend I haven't heard that bit. /

"Oh but isn't it... The Man Himself? leading his famous castrated panda up the garden path?"
-Derek: "Eh? Who's that?"
-Belinda: "The scourge of celebrities! You know him already: Baz Guhrnam!! What's he doing here, I would of thought that he was banned!*"


* Bernard "Baz" Guhrnam, born 04/28/71 in Melbourne (Australia), founder of the "Capit'all" paparazzi photo agency. Guhrnam first came to prominence with his aggressive chasing of celebrities for "gonzo" stolen pictures. Credited with inventing the "snatch-it" genre through his own notorious celebrity magazine/website "Snatch", specializing in snapshots of harassed celebrities, often taken in highly personal circumstances (including in bathrooms), on the grounds that celebrities are by definition public property. Another notorious feature of Guhrnam's publications: engineered scuffles between the aforementioned celebrities and camera wielding "Snatch" employees. Although highly criticised, Guhrnam's magazine enjoyed continued and spectacular commercial success; it grew in aggression and scope (targeting politicians as well as athletes and artists) in spite of -or thanks to- high profile court cases. "Snatch" spawned "Puss" and "Chick", similar kinds of publications devoted to celebrities' offspring -often as young as a few days old. Its success inspired a wave of derivative and often anonymous publications/websites that in turn fell foul of the law, leading to drastic changes in the Irish legislation. Guhrnam's death (31/13/07), although officially attributed to drug-related causes, has been the subject of controversy in its own right, with his estate and conspiracy websites claiming he had been the subject of foul play.


-Derek: "Ah but you see Bels, your man Baz is a celebrity in his own right, truth be told: why, he sells millions, he's got every right! Besides, and I should like to imagine, better have him on your side than on your back right? (cough cough). The antipodean maverick eh... I like to think of him as a lovable rogue myself! See Belinda, Mads inviting him is probably a highly clever move: she may want to keep herself in the self-proclaimed King Of Yellow Slebreporting's good books, right? Makes perfect sense to me -surely your man won't be biting the proverbial hand. Fair play to her says I!"
-Belinda: "Fair play to you Derek. I'm not convinced though... His presence looks kinda fishy and dead queer to me... Funny looking fellow he is.
Ah what do I know eh, it's not like -say straight off me head- I would had ever got snapped sharing a man's toilet by one of his trash-can botherers did I? Only kidding, folks. Only kidding. I'm not called Helen.
Anyway! I like your man's pink DocMartens though -they're quite sexy actually. Very Dragon on a Saturday night. Talking of invites," (silly giggles) "-and maybe I shouldn't mention this but...- funny how I don't see Michael O'Leary or Heather McCartney anywhere... Could it be they didn't get an invite? Who would have thought!"
-Derek (giggling himself): "Oh but you're a terrible girl Belinda Savage so you are! Now then, let's not go there!"
-Belinda: "No let's not go there"
-Derek: "Let's not go there. Phew! Close shave. Oh my oh my... Michael O' Leary eh... Talk about bringing the tone down... (!!!) But you know what Belinda, I have to point something out though, with all this commotion, this highly entertaining chit-chat we've been treating our viewers to -I almost got thinking me, I have to point out there's just one thing..."
-Belinda: "Yes Derek, what is it?"
-Derek: "Well actually and believe it or not ...We still haven't caught a glimpse of the widow herself!!"
-Belinda: "Ohmygod you are so right here Derek, I nearly forgot myself about our Mads! Poor old Mads eh... Our one and only! The queen of the show! The one we've all been waiting for! Where must she be? 'She ready yet? 'She having her hair done or what? I wonder what must go through her mind at this stage of the game obviously she must be utterly devastated and she'll take one day at a time it never rains but pours thankfully time is a great healer -But seriously though. But seriously. What must she be thinking right now eh, do you reckon she's still in shock Derek? Do you think she'll ever recover? Obviously things will never be the same and there's only one Dougal"
-Derek: "Fergus"
-Belinda: "there's only one Fergus hopefully she'll find the strength, she'll find the strength to face up face up and gather herself for her guests put on a brave show who must be really wondering by now. They must be wondering what the feck she's up to and I'd say myself she must be chomping at the bit literally chomping at the bit to get on with it and let's get this show on the road isn't that right what do you think Derek?"


/ Get ready to switch to camera 3 on the signal... /


-Derek: "Funny you should say that Belzo, for look here but who's making her entrance right now... None other but talk about perfect timing!"


/ You heard the man... /


"Looking -I have to say- absolutely fabulous, here comes the widow walking up the garden path. 'Much as we can make out through this bleeding foliage, she looks every inch the perfect A-lister that she is -Class eh, 'simply can't buy it!"
-Belinda: "Mads is wearing a Jimy Chou hand-knit woolly dress, Donna Coran pecari hide handbag, Bukkake handkerchief up her left sleeve, vintage Tibetan chihuahua under her right elbow and two Rothko double-laced no-heels flat shoes"
-Derek: "I say Belinda, how impressive, don't be showing off now!"
-Belinda: "...or so my cards tell me."
-Derek: "(cough cough) I'm sure you're right here, I'm sure you're right! Perfect eyesight more like, perfect eyesight has our Belinda! Cos' you know what, folks? Cos' on the money -that's where we like to be at TTE! Spot-on and first with the news! All the thrills, spills, and accurate hair-products. We hope of course to be able to corner Mads later and get her very first reaction to her impressions -some hell of an exclusive not to be missed I dare say- but for the moment, for the time being she's only doing the sympathy rounds chatting to her card-accredited well-wishers -aren't they the lucky ones...
Now here's the deal. Here's the deal, lucky viewers. We ourselves may not be deployed on the ground, that is the Garden of Serenity and McFergus Enterprises Ltd ...we still have a right deadly joker up our very sleeve!"
-Belinda: "Have we?"
-Derek: "We have!"
-Belinda: "Tell us more oh Derek!" (claps her little hands)
-Derek: "If you insist Belinda. Now our viewers all know how much we hate blowing our own trumpet at TTE -oh no we don't- but the fact is, we have ourselves an absolute killer in store for yous we have, a -like- totally lethal surprise that will simply blow your collective socks off. 'Yous ready yet? So get this: yous need not fear missing out on any of the action ...for we have managed to get ourselves a lip-reader that'll decipher them condolences!!"
-Belinda: "No?!>? -Derek: "Yes!!!"
-Belinda "Far out Derek! This is like... -so totally! Fair play to you Derek! You've done it again big man!"
-Derek: "Why thank you Belinda, much obliged, and why don't you hang around after the show, come and see me later heh heh -anyhoo indeed we have, esclusively for TTE, a literally actual lip-reader that can read lips! How about that eh. 'Must say, I ain't half pleased with it, only goes to show we're right on the ball here at "Social Funeral"! Make no mistake, no expenses cut for us oh no, no corner's shaved when it comes to treat our valued viewers -so stick it up your pipe, ya RTE! It's one-nil to the TTE!
Now then. Now then let's get to it -let's get down to business. Hello lip-reader, welcome to the program and your name is...?"
-Gassarian: "Emir Gassarian."
-Derek: "?? Gassarian that's..." (laughing) "Doesn't sound quite Irish does it? 'Take it you weren't born within the walls of Rathmines were you now?"
-Gassarian: "Actually Derek, I live here -what...- twenty years at least. My parents originally emigrated from"
-Derek: "OK OK I'm sure they were right to so... Gossarian -since Gossarian it is- ...what can you tell us 's happening there? What are the guests saying? Here, take my binos -they're only lethal, they're Bigleux Binoculars- Start with those at the centre if you please, near the gold plated cherub statue"
-Gassarian: "Right. Now let me see....... Hmm.... hmm... right... hmm... OK. Well Derek, see this gentleman here, with the red feather boa and the green suit"
-Belinda: "I think you'll find that's TVfunnyman Damian. I think he's quite sexy actually."
-Gassarian: "Right then, TVfunnyman Damian, well he just was after saying to Madleen "I'm very sorry for your loss.""
-Derek: "Did he now?"
-Gassarian: "He did, and then repeated himself: "Oh yes, very sorry for your loss"; he's now added "My heart goes out to you.""
-Belinda: "Really? Not even a quick joke?"
-Gassarian: "None that I can see. Maybe you would like to hear what Madleen replied?"
-Derek: "By all means Grossarian, you go ahead."
-Gassarian: "She said "Why, thank you kindly Damo.""
-Belinda: "Huh that's just sh"
-Derek: "fanTAStic! That's just fantastic! Isn't it amazing, dear viewers? Isn't it heart-warming? to be able to penetrate the intimacy of your favourite stars -Don't know about you Bels', but I think it's just fab. It really brings it home: you can almost hear our Mads choking back her tears, it's like yous and me are right there in her sad little face! "Why, thank you kindly" that's just.. marvellous. So down to earth, no airs and graces for her eh -Totally levelling with common people is our Mads! Why, thanks a million Grozarian, good work that -and any more exciting revelation for us? What 'they saying now, what's the word on the mourning catwalk? Do tell us, we're all ears!"
-Gassarian: "Right er....... Miss Koszak is now saying to the 40-something lady in the leather tutu "How lovely to see you... how simply wonderful. Glad you could rake it -rake it??"
-Derek: "Fantastic! Isn't it fantastic dear viewers? Such humility, such grace -that's our Mads alright, 'right trooper she is, man of the people like, with a kind word for everyone and a nice gesture for each of them -What gas it must be for her guests, no wonder she got voted "the nicest person in the whole world" at our recent style awards -your woman's a class act pure and simple."
-Belinda: "She's the people's Personality she is!"
-Derek: "Amen to that! Ah yes, must admit I admire the hell out of her"
-Belinda: "Too right you are, Derek! She's like... tiptop! Couldn't have happened to a nicer soul!"
-Derek: "Couldn't indeed -It's me opinion and I'll stick by it! Ah yes, in these sad sad days of no manners, no manners and crass vulgarity, Mads "Madleen" Koszak stands out like the proverbial bacon of light and we could do worse -much worse- than take example on her is what I says. But back to our exclusive revelations live on TTE, tell us oh tell us er... Rozarian (??) -what 'she saying now? Our teleobjective shows her in deep converse with the holy man, what 'she telling him now? We're dying to know!"
-Gassarian: "Well Derek she er...... Couldn't quite catch the start of her sentence but... something about getting it (?) over and done with double quick, she's already late, needs to dash off to Sky TV for an inte"
-Derek: "Thank you that will be all! I think the last thing we need right now we don't want to intrude into Mads's private grief at this difficult juncture in her life this stage of the game and I guess I suppose you need to learn it'd do you good respect people's grief Gozzarian and show a little bit more respect that is if you don't mind some common decency our very own Queen of hearts she is after all -the People's favourite so."
...
-Gassarian: "Er sure... Sure, unquestionably. I certainly didn't mean to"
-Derek: "Thankyou. Thankyou that will be all. And I think that -actually as chance has it- I think we'll take a break now, we'll take a break -But stay with us yes, stay with TTE for we'll be right back -that's myself, Derek Whelan and Belinda Savage- we'll be right back after the news. So don't be switching off now, plenty more to come where these came from, but first... first the headlines with Clio Hartbyrne. Clio."
-Clio: "Derek.



*****
"The news headlines at fifteen past on TTE. In an announcement made less than 24 hours ago set to rock the music world to its very foundations, it has been suggested that the Spice Girls are considering reforming for a Greatest Tits tour. When asked about the possibility of seeing the most respected group in musical history since the Beatles come and perform the likes of "Lovin' me Lovin' me", "Let's Go Shopping" and "Wham Bam Moo" in Dublin anytime soon, a spokesman for their bank was understandably coy and refused to elaborate, insisting that any chance of this taking place in the foreseeable future had to be judged on its own merit.

It's official: Anna Nicole Smith will be buried next to her son. The pneumatic super -super- supermodel who recently sensationally died will be buried next to her son, a judge has decided. More on this, and the judge's actual name, exclusively in our news bulletin at three.

Officially Sexiest 63-going-on-65 Woman In The World Helen Mirren will battle it out with Dame Judi over two drama Baftas this evening in London. Helen Mirren is hotly tipped to beat the old crow.

Sport now, and Manchester United are preparing for the first leg of their semi-quarter preliminary finals of the HMV McDonald's MasterCard Euro DisneyWorld Championship DeLuxe against Sporting Katowice -the Red Devils are said to be feeling reasonably confident. However, manager Sir Alex Ferguson stressed the need to "take each game as they come" and "show the opponents respect". Manchester United are twenty to one on to win the tie.

Saint Mary Joseph Orphanage childabuse sexscandal latest: priests deny any involvement in the alleged rape, abuse, molestation, sexual exploitation, assault, beating, starving and otherwise general mistreatment of hundreds of mentally ill patients over a period of fifty years. The government ordered an open inquiry to look into the matter for the delectation of the general public -more details of the case to follow shortly.

The weather this morning: generally sunny with frequent showers, early frost might be expected at some stage. Night to fall later.

Last night's Lottery numbers: 0, 6, 9, 33, 62, 64, 70, 89, and 98. No winner has been declared yet.
All that coming up in just some moments' time, but first, very quickly, the rest of the news headlines: "The World In 30 Seconds".


The Iraq fuckup. Following Saddam's hanging, President W has declared himself "very happy"" (excerpt from a press conference by the President of the United States of America: "I am very happy.") -Our political commentator Sean Doherty to commentate on what W's enigmatic comment could possibly mean. Meanwhile, UK Prime Minister Tony wasted no time in commending President W's optimism for the future of Iraq (excerpt from Tony Blair's press conference: "And I say this onto you I want to make this very clear of this there can be no doubt no doubt whatsoever from every fibre of my heart since this is the people's Prime Minister speaking that we've always been very clear on this we need to send a strong message and a clear signal for in a very real sense and this I desperately believe -this is what it's all about.")

Stem cells debate: thebushadministration has forbidden the use of stem cells in medical research and has warned scientists the world over against their possible involvement in this godless technology. This will not be tolerated.

Inflation at an all-time high in Ireland: after the 0.2 % barrier was breached, the Opposition has accused the government of "driving this country to the dogs" and is calling for early elections.

Earthquake strikes in India: thousands feared dead, millions homeless.

And finally, global warming controversy: global warming has been hotly denied by some sources.
More on the Saint Mary Joseph Orphanage childabuse sexscandal and the rest of the news -at three o'clock on TTE. Moira."


*****


-Moira: "Clio. And that was the news headlines at two thirty. We now return to our main feature, "The Social Funeral Of The Week", with our special commentator Derek Whelan and his bus-based reporter Belinda Savage. Well. Let's hope that our special reporter is switched on today and doesn't get her A-listers mixed up again I mean... it's not like a certain someone would ever -for example- forget the name of Wazza's current toy boy would she?"
-Belinda: "Ooh-er, the dorrty cow! Just because that one escaped me momentarously, big fecking deal yeah! And where were you, Moira the great, during that seminal fashion moment when Naomi In Person slipped on the catwalk and nearly stumbled? Do remind us who it was that was on hand to report on this story!"
-Moira: "Well I... Funny you should mention that, dear ginger roots, because I actually have Nams on my very own "Haute Couture Against Racism Exposé Special" next month! She like happens to be one of my very best friends so -Nams and I, we go wayyy back, 'hear that sugarcheeks? Oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to let your oral specialty out of the bag!"
-Derek: "Ladies ladies, do stop it now! This very moment! ...or else I will just start to enjoy it. Hmm, right, yous do realise this is all an act, viewers? 'Bit of panto! Our Bels and Minnie here -they get on great like a schoolbus on fire they do! Isn't that right ladies?"


--------------------------------------------------tobecontinued------------------------------------