March 16th, 2007

lom gene gun

I just found me a brand new box of matches

Blackpool. But first I must thank the kind friend who has faithfully supplied me with access to Bones because otherwise I might have been a bit torn, but two Davids was always going to beat one, and I just could not watch anything else knowing that Blackpool was riding the airwaves elsewhere.

I love Blackpool. Love it, love it, love it to bits. It's been, well, months (really, months?) since I watched it last and so I watch it with eyes anew. What a quirky, scruffy mess of tics wee Davey is in this. I mean, last time I got the always eating or drinking thing (much like Brad Pitt in Ocean's 11) but this time it was the constant and excessive littering that bemused me. Oh, and These Boots Are Made For Walking? To die for. And that last hero shot - swoon.

Boy, has the lad cornered the market in quirky, though. How he manages to make such distilled quirk so damn smexy is a question for the ages, yet he does.
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