mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

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"If all the fools in this world should die, lordly God how lonely I should be"

"...a parcel of big, ugly, fat-necked, wombat-headed, big-bellied, magpie-legged, narrow-hipped, splay-footed sons of Irish bailiffs or English landlords which is better known as officers of Justice or Victorian Police, who some calls honest gentlemen. But I would like to know what business an honest man would have in the Police, as it is an old saying, It takes a rogue to catch a rogue." - Edward Kelly

Wednesday: I just couldn't remember the exact quote the other night while washing the dishes (I can't remember how it came up in conversation but it did). I often read damning articles in the foreign press about Ned Kelly, demanding to know why we love an outlaw, but they've not read the Jerilderie Letter. True, he was a killer, but he also had a charm and cheeky wit - the quintessential bad boy.

He has a turn of phrase, Our Ned, and his resentments toward local authority is wildly shared (and given all the Royal Commissions, the view that a more wretched crew of thieves and cutthroats you'd be hard to find is hardly speculative - see also Blue Murder). And he's a character. I've often wondered at the words to booze ratio as Ned really starts letting rip in the letter. It's a fun read (I once also wrote a paper on it for uni about the issues of English vs Irish, Squatocracy vs small farmers, Anglican vs Catholic, police brutality, poverty, social issues, etc, but really, it's just a great read).

I wish someone had shown the letter to Jonas. This is the sort of cheeky, angry, angry young man you're meant to be playing, young fella. Oh well. Actually, it would have been interesting if someone had, what with all the flag waving that goes on towards the end of the letter. Might have stirred a necessary bit of passion that I find sorely lacking in the boy.

Well, I haven't seen any St Crispin Day speeches from the lad thus far, just an inordinate amount of moping (and kvetching). Oh, except when he had Guy tied to a tree. That roused him. Heh.

Meanwhile, my feet are shot, running kms, flailing like a muppet no doubt, between offices that have no network connection. Bah.

Thursday: "additional updates to final version" - what is wrong with this picture, I ask you? I need another cup of tea. Mutter, mutter, grumble gripe. Been that sort of day.

I must thank the neighbour last night who decided night time was the right time for noisy DYI drilling and hammering because I might have dozed off during House otherwise, but no, everytime exhaustion kicked in so did those good vibrations, and thus I was bright and alert for Life (or upright, anyway).

Slightly better A plot this week - it seems to be quickly finding its own voice amongst the many (so very many, I wasn't sure how I was going to bear another run of the mill murder that I'd already seen six times that week, oh nos, cop show fatigue!). Well, it had to happen - grin. Anyhoo, the quirky is still a little too Monk for my liking (which I loathe, btw), and poor Damian is always squinty under the LA sun, but it is getting that Bones 'His Girl Friday' groove going.

I like the girlie cop better as she's gone from Evil Cindy Brady Tattle Tale Cop to lying her arse off for pretty ginger partner (and frankly, who can blame her?), and the daft roomie is pointless, but amusing, and the bit where DL pulled the knife was kinda cool. I do like the rare moments of animal ferocity in amongst all the wee dafty nonsense (because of the twelve seasons of Oz the poor petal lived through, sometimes I think the writers forget it). But still mostly just watching for the Damian (I'm not bothered. I sat through bits of S1 Bones three times over just for DB before I found that episode where I finally got it, ditto Veronica Mars where it took a painful nine episodes before I finally saw what everyone else had been talking about).

The denouement was cute (in the back of the van), if sludgy otherwise (the who summing up of the moral of the story was, well, a bit stuck in the 80s).

Bones I watched too, again missing the first fifteen minutes but putting in a disk and catching up. Heh. It was one I'd not seen before (we seem to be in a section I missed again) and it was kinda cute. It was the pirate one, and it had a variation on the old skeleton found on dig site plot (actual old bones salted this time, not a homicide) and it had the Yellow Eyed Demon from SPN and, hee, Rodders, late of SAAB (because aside from the odd guest spot he never seemed to get another gig). It was a fun episode, if predicatble (well, I knew Rodney was the one the moment I saw him, pure 'that guy' syndrome, because he always is).

Okay, back to being yelled at. It's so much fun. And yet more revisions of the 'final' version. This is obviously some strange useage of the word 'final' I wasn't previously aware of. Harumph.

"I think it was Cyril Connolly who once said of George Orwell that he couldn’t blow his nose without moralising on conditions in the handkerchief industry. That might equally apply to Ken Loach. I can’t imagine what he must be like to go on holiday with, or accompany to a supermarket or restaurant." - The Times

Flail! I mean, all due respect to the man and his kitchen sinkers, but...flail!

Friday: That Brian Eno outfit is at the VA? How could you not friggin tell me. Okay, now I am desperate to hop a plane (as if the lure of Toby et al on stage wasn't enough). Too bad I couldn't afford train fare to the airport. Sigh.

Tea was cracked pepper pasta (I forget what it was exactly, but it was big fettucine) and pomegranate yoghurt for dessert. I love it when Himself shops in the ever so posh eastern suburbs, because they never sell stuff like that here. It's all Tom Piper and Yoplait out here. (Or should I ay there as I'm here, not there, oh, I'm so confused, what I wouldn't do for a quality nap).

I did drop off like a nana for the middle bit of Unit One, ack, but it wasn't the episode as advertised, and while there was a lot of Fischer stomping about being very bad tempered, he was doing the moody loner thing, sans long suffering looks from La Cour, who was limited to just a few whenever Fischer stomped into the semi, so it was fun, but it wasn't golden. Oh yeah, they totally solved the crime, but the guy got off on a technicality (they always do on Unit One).

Heroes was all over the place, frustratingly so for one who was tired, and just when we seemed to be getting to the meat of a scene we'd flit off somewhere else and never really got anywhere with anyone. Well, Kensei found out he was a hero (at least, that's if fighting a multitude of cgi samurai for some sword amounts to true heroism, but he got the girl so I suppose so) and Peter decided to hang his lucky charms with the Oirish for a bit (if I were the Irish Ambassador I'd be making a formal complaint re accents etc) and Mohinder and Matt had a minor domestic grizzle over breakfast and Claire discovered that annoying boy can fly (which was just so Smallville hokey I wanted to weep for all the wrong reasons). Ah well, so long as Pete's new found allergy to shirts continues, I'll keep watching. And to be honest, I kinda like the Kensei plot, shameless old Western that it is (the ol' reluctant hero chesnut - always a good 'un).
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Tags: life, mads mikkelsen, ned kelly, rejseholdet, robin hood

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