mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

the dreaded lurgie

Hey ho. Saturday was dark and rainy, in parts. That is, it occassionally burst into brilliant sunshine, then would hurl rain at you the next second, often simultaneously, as I had the privilege of getting soaked under blue skies again as I trotted down to the shops and back.

Presented passport etc, disks are all posted. Honestly, such carry on. None of that in the UK, though I have favoured POs that I hang out for now - how tragic is that? Wot a ponce, me having favoured POs in the UK. But still, props to M. in Nottinghamshire, she ain't lost a parcel or postcard yet.

But what I meant to say was dark and stormy = hiding in room with dvds. Professionals, Jason King, Persuaders, Randall & Hopkirk and, of course, Adam Adamant. Watched the rest of disk 1. Oh my. When they called it camp, I thought they meant just very silly. No, they meant hello ducky flaaaaaaming. Oh my.

First there was the episode where he went to Blackpool (looking exactly the same as it does in Blackpool, which fair boggles the old mind because none of the places I knew in the 70s are either there or recogniseable) and picks up a manservant. And I do mean picks up. Sample dialogue: "Mr Adamant isn't the sort of gentleman that would chat up a bird."

More fun was to be had in the next episode where Adam is called in to sort out a delicate spot of Ministerial blackmail. Reeling from photographs of unslightly women bits, Adam is appalled to learn that the meet is in a geisha house. He's then told he'll have to take a room and a girl, as is the custom, so as to not blow his cover. "Worse and worse," poor Adam groans. The minister sympathetically pats him on the shoulder and tells him it's for Queen and country.

By which time I was howling. The next episode was all about sinister marketing ploys, and it was very silly, but quite seriously creepy and you could re-hash it as a Dr Who episode next season and no one would know it was a 40 year old plot, which is depressing (and it goes against everything I've read lately that states only Gen Y are media savvy, the rest of us are bovine consumers - simply not so, gentle reader, as this episode attests). It really was a quite startling anti-consumerist episode, only devolving into silly faux Nazis at the end. And, oh yes, should I have ever have had a need to see Bud Tingwall (classic Oz actor who did tonnes of cool 60s stuff in the UK) wrestling in soap suds, that desire is now sated. Good thing I was watching old Homicide clips last week.

Saturday night brought forth The Saint, with bonus Julian Glover as a nogoodnik, and a rather daft episode of The Sweeney, which included, I shit you not, a song and dance act that I really, really need to rip and post to demonstrate how good 70s cop shows can lurch off the rails. I still have no idea what that episode was about. Stolen plutonium, funny buggers, Turks (Saffy's dad), drunken song and dance acts, car bombs, helicopters, insurance scams, bumbling bosses, inter team rivalry, was like that had some left over plot ideas and threw 'em together. A real stew.

And, had I ever the desire to see John Thaw in a really bad vaudeville routine, that, too, would now be sated. LOM dudes? Not that episode, please.

Sunday was spent working, and walking past the tv which was playing The Bourne Supremecy. I just caught the end where he chases Karl across town (French Connection meets Goldeneye) and into the tunnel. As Matt staggers out of the tunnel, I quip: "Just wait'll he gets his e-tag bill." Heh. Okay, so you have to be here to get that joke (see also Cross City Tunnel). Then he goes and apologises to this chick for killing her parents. Good grief, I wonder, he's not going to go all Earl on us and start apologising to the families of everyone he's assassinated? Jason Bourne with return in My Name is Bourne.

Then I had to go out. Ended up at Paddy's Market and found this gorgeous dark blue with crazy yellow and orange embroidery all over it skirt for $20. To my continued heartbreak, the pure white yeti pelt fuzzy long coat that would have gone with it was nowhere near my size. Wail. Gnash. I nearly had the perfect 1971 outfit.

The old cafe was still there and we had a nostalgic nosh.

Then we went and saw Hugh Jackman. Heh. I'm just going to pause smugly for a bit here, as it's my turn, you lot who always have great actors on tap. He was brill. I was damn lucky to see the NY show, and I mean damn lucky, as I won that week in NYC, and I loved it, I loved Hugh, so there was no question of not seeing it out here. And you know what? It was better. Livilier, louder, more colourful and sparkly, and I do think, longer (a couple of songs had been restored). Completely different atmosphere, and different songs having different reactions. Especially that old Qantas ad, I Still Call Australia Home. To mystified Yanks there, here, a near national anthem, with the Qantas kids and a big flag and campy Olympics era jingoism to behold. In fact the whole show, rather than a stagey production like in NY, had more of the Olympics Opening ceremony about it (hello, giant thongs). Especially Rio, the finale. Fabulous!!!

May I mention our seats, dear reader, how close they were, how they afforded an excellent vantage point of a certain wiggling little derriere. Oh my. Especially as he slithered across the piano. Oh my indeed.

Hugh was all sexy and spangly and as campy as. In a word: brilliant. I had such a marvellous time.

Alas, Monday follows Sunday.

Oh dear. If you don't hear much from me, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just rather overburdened with work and domestic strife. On top of everything else, I seem to be rolling through the elements as domestic disasters. Thursday was fire. Friday and Saturday it was water's turn, the first heavy rains in years highlighting where all the gutters had rusted through and bringing down a piece of the ceiling, just to underline the fact that the roof was no longer waterproof.

Last night it was the turn of earth, where either a mild tremor or shifting watertable, or, as I suspect, both, had wedged the front door stuck fast. I had to get out this morning using the backdoor. So what, you ask. Well, it meant I had to go round the side of the house in pitch black darkness. So what, you sneer again. Well, remember Frodo running through Shelob's cave and ending up emeshed in giant spider webs. That's what having to walk up the side of the house entails. So not happy.

Throw in another attack of the destructo cats, killing another prized lavender in a prized pot and having another good go at my camellia, not to mention stalking one of my tame currawongs. The cat protection society rent out traps for $70 and I'm going to have to try that. I don't much care what they do with the bastard animals if I catch one. And before you start crying and whining, these aren't somebody's wee fluffy moggies. These are feral cats driven north by the development what used to be the scrubby reserve (where I used to walk my ex-dog), and they're big and rangy enough to be mistaken for prowling panthers in silhouette. I've had it with the property damage and the destruction of native wildlife (they killed all my blue tongues). They're a menance and the whole street is agreed that they need to go.

I'm also down with the flu, which makes the wicked work merde bite even harder.

And it is wicked work merde. At least I took yesterday off. I was going to try and be very ill and upload files to YouTube, but I'm glad I didn't bother. Mainly because I was ill, tired, and my last several abortive attempts had nearly killed Dell Boy, but someone reported my piratical uploads and they all got deleted. So eff that, then. You want to play like that, LOM byotches, fine, I'll go sit in the sun, read the paper, then watch Veronica Mars, Doctor Who (loved the Cybermen/Dalek bitch off, byo big hankies for ott shippy moments), and Steve McQueen in Wanted Dead or Alive, proving that tight pants and tighter camera angles aren't just for 70s cop shows.

Actually, I enjoyed Wanted Dead Or Alive far more than I expected to, as I'd bought near sight unseen, having only seen one episode on the Golden Years of Television twenty years ago. It's not great, but it was perfect for flu ridden telly watching, cause I'm used to watching old b/w movies at midday when I'm off ill, so it hit the nostalgia buttons nicely. I'm also bemused at how violent it was, or at least I consider a body count of three or four per episode mighty impressive for a 23 minute show. I was also bemused at Evil Little Joe popping up in one episode. Heh heh heh. Yup, Steve shot Little Joe. Hee.

Wish I was at home today. Am not in the mood, and all woobie, and I've got Rowdy waiting for me back in my bedroom.

I should say though that not all LOM fans are evil, just the ones who keep razzing me. Others are cool, and, indeed time saving, like the friend who made all the screen caps of John Simm's footie docco. I'd been loathe to do them myself, lest the world behold my bad reception, though anyone who's ever suffered the misfortune to have a tape from me in the last decade or so knows my reception has always been crap, possibly due to the overhead wires/military/gaols/heavy industry/highways/my inability to be able to afford the latest gear. Whatever, it's crap. Now you can go and point and laugh.
Wanted:Dead or Alive
Wanted: Dead or Alive
Wanted: Dead or Alive Season One
"Wanted: Dead or Alive"
Craft Service Envy and Chair Thefts
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Beam me up to the saleroom,,23569-2296071,00.html
Trekkies boldly go to memorabilia auction
Duchovny speaks of X-Files revival
Driven to Succeed,,14931-2296162,00.html
Still swimming against the tide (Gilliam),,14931-2294480,00.html
The man who gave sci-fi life (Dick),,14931-2294479,00.html
Slacker king takes the future lying down (Reeves)
Julie Goes To Hollywood
LAFD Earthquake Preparedness Handbook
"The Lighthouse Joke"
God Is In The Magic Mushrooms
Remake ‘The Wicker Man’? Now That’s Scary
"The Boy from Oz" Sydney Premiere - After Party
Let's hear it for the Boy but did producers pick a peck of trouble?
Mad about the boy,20867,20001235-16947,00.html
As Carousel role secured, life's a ride for Jackman,20867,20023402-16947,00.html
Super Boy from Oz saddles up a treat,22049,20030950-5001026,00.html
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Jackman gets seal of approval
Martin Henderson
Strange 'twin' new worlds found
Rare turtle to get satellite tag
Rankin warns: don't mess with Rebus™
Collins tells of recovery fight,20867,20041224-16947,00.html
Brits denounce our $20m Van Gogh as a fake,20867,20037561-16947,00.html
Cruise sunk as studios cut pay
Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes, by Stephen King,23739,19939281-5003420,00.html
Controlling his vices (Farrell)
MTV cops and robbers,22049,20006022-5006014,00.html
I don't want to play dad (Waters),22049,19994238-5006014,00.html
Kiefer's love of Bauer,22049,20005682-5006014,00.html
Brown Twisted again,21985,20000769-5006023,00.html
Bryan Brown in Falconio film
How Will found a way,21985,19887279-5006022,00.html
The truth is in there (Anderson),21985,19918869-5006023,00.html
Mads about the boy (Mikkelsen),21985,19990131-5006023,00.html
Heath signs up as the Joker
Ledger cast in next Batman movie,21985,20038644-5006024,00.html
Sherbet by any name sizzles
China's censors shine spotlight on karaoke,,23569-2293638,00.html
Be shocked! Be amazed! See Hollywood on a website near you,,2087-2291737,00.html
Beautiful people tend to have girls, say scientists
Duran Duran to give virtual gigs
Telstra pulls internet plug
'Anger release bars' all the rage in stressed-out China
Beware the wild goats terrorising a Welsh village
Evolution reversed in mice

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Tags: adam adamant, hugh jackman, john thaw, steve mcqueen, the saint, the sweeney

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