WE WERE DEAD ALL ALONG

Fugger (a.k.a me, a.k.a. the people's blogger) is writing a movie at the moment. It's called We Were Dead All Along and I think it's pretty original myself. It's about this family that go on a caravanning trip and they stop off at this weird foggy lake and they find a burnt out caravan there and it looks a bit like theirs. 'It looks a bit like ours', says the daughter (who is about eighteen and wears cut off jean shorts all the time and is quite hot). Then the family keep complaining of the cold and have a few rows and things for around seventy minutes. Then the family see other people walking around the lake and fishing and all that and they try talking to the other people but the other people just ignore them as if they aren't even there. Then, after all that stuff happens, this hooded man shows up in a row boat and beckons the family to get into the boat, like a River Styx type ferryman right? Right? Get it? Right? And the family get into the boat and they sail off across the lake shouting: 'We Were Dead All Along, We Were Dead All Along', because they were dead all along and the the name of the film is We Were Dead All Along and the audience will go: 'wow, they were dead all along' and then the audience will leave the cinema and stand outside it only to discover that the building they just watched the film in burned to the ground in 1974 and they were in it and they were dead all along and then they too will say 'We Were Dead All Along!'. 

I think making the audience realise that they were dead all along could be the new 3D. I think that's pretty original stuff myself and people won't have to pay extra for special glasses.

WAR HORSESHIT

The thing about World War One is that it was very well lit and the music was absolutely lovely, swelling and whirling and crescendoing as the boys died on the sweeping canvass of the field. Oh, the boys, the boys, so brave and some as young as thirteen. I’ll don my poppy and salute the boys and their efforts. Each one proudly choking on hardening mustard gas mucus. Coughing, convulsing and falling. And all the while so well lit, so beautifully lit. It’s no wonder they called it The Great War, it was bloody marvellous.

Maybe in the future our current wars will be recalled in a similar fashion, through the prisms of aesthetically pleasing nostalgia simulations. Instead of blurry footage of exploding buildings on remote monitors, we’ll see our brave drones swoop down and liberate post-production graded, high-definition, panascopic landscapes. We’ll have stories of an army boy’s love for his drone and the sacrifices he makes to retrieve it when it is shot down by the enemy. ‘Oh old Droney, how I loved ya Droney.’

We’ll have majestically choreographed cinematic recreations of despots being deposed. I can see it now, Gaddafi (played by Alan Rickman in a black wig) being stabbed in the arse as the sun rises over a new Libya and a rousing soundtrack denotes liberation. It’ll be a bit like Laurence of Arabia only in 3D and with a touch of Hostel to keep the kids interested. HRH or one of her family will attend the premier and Tom Hanks will exec produce and everyone will be moved to tears, for a bit.

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And now a poem. The authorship of these verses is much disputed. Some say they were penned by Tony Blair, others say George W. Bush but I think this poem shows the hallmarks of one of our latest and greatest war authors, Hillary Clinton (author of We Came, We saw, He Died):

The Moral Argument for Gardening

Such beautiful seeds
descend upon
plough into
the trembling earth
Yielding searing flowers aflame

Scorching, cleansing, beautiful gardening
Trowels of truth
Ploughs of patriotism
Shiny new harbingers of
a garden of resolve

From a just winter
a righteous summer shall rise
With the sweet scent of freedom
and fresh tender bounty
Ripe for the picking

And when we’ve stuffed our faces
and all is left bare
the seeds will rain down once more
An honourable cycle
Oh beautiful war

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That’s really the great thing about war in general, it inspires such fantastic art. I mean, imagine if Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen weren’t traumatised in the dugouts of Flanders. They’d be a long forgotten pair of old queens. Their names wouldn’t ‘liveth forever’, I’ll tell you that. War makes a man of you and sometimes an artist. Here’s to the next one.

The LOL Equation MK 2

I’m a bit uninspired today. I can’t think of what to write. Mmm, let’s see, what do I have for you. Eh, I bought some cheap biscuits in Lidl earlier. Not bad tasting. Um, and, oh yeah, ever notice how Lidl is always empty until you get to the check-out and there’s a huge queue? Yeah, mad isn’t it? Um, let’s see, what else. Mmmm, . . .dee da dum, ta dee dee dah. . . Oh yeah, I’m a bit worried they’re going to increase the management fees here. Yeah. That’d be a bit, um, crap. . .

OK, look, this obviously isn’t working out and I’ve other things to be doing. No really I do. I swear. I need a bath for a start. I think I’ll hand you over to my computerised blog post generator. I’ve fixed it up so there shouldn’t be a repeat of THE LAST MISHAP.

Right, I’m turning it on now. It’s humming. It’s coming to life. Fingers crossed. Here goes. Enjoy. . .

TITLE: RANDOM THOUGHTS...

MAIN BODY OF TEXT: Hello again Readers.

Needless to say, I like gardening so my favourite website is politics.ie because there are lots of vegetables on it. LOL!

Also needless to say is that films are rubbish these days so they should change the name of the cinema to the binema. That’s BINema, as in ‘rubbish bin(ema)’. LOL! Did you get it? Did you LOL? You should LOL! LOL Now! LOL! LOL! I command you, LOL!

I see the Arts Council have awarded Cathal O'Searcaigh some money for a new van (pictured above). ‘It’s not much but it suits my needs’, said the celebrated bursary hunter yesterday. Needless to say, the insinuation here is that O’Searcaigh is a predatory paedophile. That is LOL! LOL Now! LOL! You will LOL! All Hail LOL! YOU MUST AND WILL LOL! PRAISE LOL FOR I AM THE LORD OF LOL AND YOU WILL DO MY BIDDING! LOL! LOL! LMFAO! OMFG! NEEDLESSTOSAY! LOL! ROFL! PAED0101110100101001PHILE^PWNED+ I-AM-THE-LOL-THY-GOD{LMFAO ~ RATFLMFAO^BFF < LAWL ‰~ OMG¬ E=MC²101000101000100010101001110101001. . . BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Ah, Jesus. What’s happened now? I go away for two minutes and you break it again. What did you do to it? You’re too demanding. Christ, do you know how long it took me to set up? Now, let’s see. Good Lord, what was it saying to you? This is worse than the last time. Look, just go away. Give me a bit and I’ll see what I can do. Really though, it’s not looking good is it? It looks like I’m stuck with providing these twice weekly brain farts myself. Sod it, maybe I should just give this machine to Twenty Major. He could probably make some use of it.