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*** SPOILER ALERT – SPOILER ALERT ***

 

This weeks GoT was a most interesting bag, no? Well this is what I saw…

 

**Disclaimer…this is long winded as fuck and full of foul language. You wankers have been warned.**

 

Right, I’m going to be honest and say I’d completely forgotten who the fuck Benjen Stark was but after doing a little digging, I now do. As for what else went on, well, here are the main movers. Margaery’s now a bat-shit crazy God botherer: Arya’s bitten the hand that fed her, The Mother of Dragons now has an even bigger arsed army at her disposal, Gilly showed Sam what a pair of testicles are for and the High Sparrow’s up to something…

 

Benjen, Bran and the frozen northerns.

 

I doubt I’m alone in thinking Benjen Stark looked like a frost bitten sack of shit? At a glance I thought he was just a bit haggard, a bit shagged out looking, bit I changed my tune immediately given his somewhat creepy ethereal look. Was I the only one that thought he had an odd purplish tint to his pale as fuck face? Might I was hallucinating, I’d just eaten a bowl of home made popcorn and sugar tends to send me loopy. Regardless whether my over active sugar fuelled imagination was playing tricks on me, I thought something fishy, most likely magical, was afoot.

After ‘refreshing‘ my memory as to who Benjen was, I was somewhat confused as to whether he’d be a new major character or not. Having given it some though, I don’t think he will be. This is in part due to what he said about the three eyed raven telling him Bran needed help – singles him out as a lackey – and not having been mentioned since the first series. Honestly think he’s pretty much Hodor 2.0; although shorter, with a greater vocabulary and far less of a crayon eating fuckwit.

My suspicions with regards to magic were confirmed, as Benjen, like the Night King, had had a shard of dragonglass driven into his heart. Unlike the Night King, however, this was to stave off Benjen becoming a mindless Wight, not make him an undead wanker.

Fire was the main theme echoed in Bran’s vision, so it wasn’t too surprising to see Bran’s rescuer – Benjen before he’d revealed himself – to be twating undead with a flaming flail. Yes, I know they’re all related but I’m pretty sure their paths will cross Jon’s soon enough. Why? Glad you asked. Melisandre – the red woman – resurrected Jon and serves the fire god. See, fire again. While Melisandre might just be a complete shit-house – remember she dropped Stannis like a sack of cold crap upon realising he wasn’t The Prince That Was Promised – I don’t think she is that fickle. She’s a true believer in her God. Remember how useless she was when she found out Jon was dead and maybe she’d gotten it all, but how her mood changed when the resurrection worked?

 

Well, here’s my theory…

 

So, we have two Red women in different parts of the land prophesying that both Jon and Daenerys (the forces of fire?) both in some-way serve the fire god. Further down the line, what’s to say the two of them don’t hook up and become an irresistible undead arse kicking duo? Not sure, but it could be.

I did a little looking on-line and found out that ‘The Prince That Was Promised’ might just be a legendary warrior Azor Ahai. I know the White Walkers are immune to regular fire but does that extend to dragon fire, wildfire (the green shit that foiled Stannis’ attack on Kings Landing) or even the fabled flaming sword Lightbringer, which Azor Ahai is said to wield.

 

Margaery’s bat-shit mental and The High sparrow’s a wanker.

 

I’ve decided to cover both Margaery and the sparrow together. I’m lazy and they’re story is entwined.

Either Margaery is a cunning fox – don’t think so – or thanks to the magic mushrooms growing in the corner of her cell, she got completely stoned and found God. Who’d have thought to look for him in her cell? Easy really. Anyway, having gone to the dark side, Margaery has, willingly or otherwise, helped the High Sparrow potentially hatch whatever dastardly plan he could be nurturing. Hatched and Sparrow in the same sentence!! My genius is wasted on you shower of shi…

Focus Matthew! The High Sparrow is a most interesting shit headed villainous type. He’s not as crass as Ramsay – the ‘orrible little bell-end – and as a result is far more interesting and capable of making plans that don’t include cutting people knobs off or feeding people to dogs. Thus far the Sparrow has claimed to be simple spokesperson and unfazed when even remotely threatened. I was most interested in the Godzilla sized u-turn he made that allowed Marge to escape the walk of atonement. Shame, I was hoping to see her hoote…ahem. Also the smirk aimed at Jamie Lainnister hinted he has an ego and thus isn’t as virtuous as he makes out.

I accept that by letting Marge off, the sparrow would have cemented his hold over the impressionable young King, but I can’t ever recall him ever making anything like an concessions in the past. Hell no, he’s allowed all manner of shit to go down and hasn’t once lost his self satisfied grin. That made me think he makes shit up as he sees fit and is nothing but a charismatic scum bag.

Personally I think the high sparrow is a dick and has a wicked plan up his sleeve. I also willing to bet he’s a full on loony and no matter what he does or commands, he’ll justify it as ‘in the name of the lord what’s-his-face’. In short, he wants everyone covered in crap and naked, the dirty old sod.

 

On a completely unrelated note, I miss the Bronn and Tyrion show. They had a great rapport and some of the best dialogue. Pair ’em back up, you wankers!!

 

Oh-er, that’s a big arsed pet lizard you’ve got there, missus. 

 

At last the white haired wonder, AKA Daenerys, might finally stop fucking about, jump on a ferry to the bit of the map with Kings Landing on it – eloquence, it’s my forte…in it – and do something other than flouncing about pretending to give a shit about her subjects.

Daenerys, having united the Dothraki factions, now has a dirty great big army. Will she make a play for the throne? Yeah she will, but I don’t think she’ll a giant chopper about it. Once she’s got through King’s Landing customs and becomes aware the white walkers pose the biggest to her ambitions, she’ll realise she doesn’t have enough barbarians and look for allies. By then I imagine Jon Snow will have united the North and whamo, they’ll pair up. Maybe. Okay, this might never happen, Jon might not like impish platinum blonds and she might think he’s a sulky wanker, but you never can tell.

 

 

**Well done for not having chewed your faces off from the inside out. Believe me, I’m dull in real life. Fuck, my only redeeming qualities are ADHD and my borderline tourettes. Pig-dog, arse crack…wanker, shit-shitty-poo-bum…see, told you so.**

 

Gilly and the big fat fanny.

 

I had high hopes for Sam’s story line. I thought he’d ditch the bint and sprog, leg it to the place where the maester learn stuff and find out all manner of awesome shit that he’d relay back to Jon in an effort to stop the white walkers. But no, the useless lump buggered off back home only to be called a fat twat by his old man over dinner. I so wanted Sam to loose his shit, go full retard, vault the table and drop-kick his father’s head clean off its shoulders. But no, Sam’s head disappeared up his arse so fast he damn near got whiplash. In turn it took Gilly to bail the nonce out. This only confirmed that these characters, to my mind, will have limited air time from now on. However, why did Sam steal his father sword? No way he’ll use it himself, pull the other one. Maybe he’ll give it to someone else?

Who might that be though? Maybe Jon will go all Dornish and start wielding two big arsed swords at once? Maybe big bird – Brienne – might get her ogreish mits on it? I’m willing to be he sells it and use the cash to start a bald donkey sanctuary…or not.

 

Right, I, like you, have had enough for one day. Wait…bollocks, I forgot Arya Stark. Bitch!

 

The girl that has no name and the faceless fuckwits.

 

I’m glad she’s finally see how pointless all this reinventing oneself into a uncaring kill machine really is. We all know that brainwashing doesn’t work, right? I mean it’s not like we live in a capitalistic shit-bag world where everything is designed to stupefy you and have you wanting more, is it? Where we feel compelled to buy pointless shit for no real reason and read meaningless crap because we’re conditioned to do so. Hang on! Fuck off, fuck right off, this blog is okay, right?

Um…where was I?

 

Oh yeah, Arya. I don’t doubt that Arya will kick that moody cowbag’s arse, whom Jaqen has sent to kill her, but you can bet she’ll end up blinded, or severally fucked up in more ways that one. Part of me hope Arya sticks her in the guts with her sword, plants the nut on her, before booting her in the lady parts. What I think will happen, mind, is the staff swinging wench won’t know Arya is a dab hand with needle and will end up hamstrung and cut to ribbons.

 

Think that’s about it. Yay, it is!! Thanks load if you got this fan and see you soon.

 

Regards, Matt..

 

 

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I’m currently writing this weeks GoT blog and while my attention wanders – it does frequently and is most friggin’ annoying – I came across this clip.

 

All I can say is, fuck that for a game of soldiers…or even golf.

 

Ah bollocks, seems my IT ineptitude strikes again as I can’t get the URL link to upload. Fuck it, you’ll have to do the hard work of copying the link yourselves.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/monster-alligator-filmed-ambling-around-florida-golf-course-a7057131.html

game_of_thrones_conceptart_UnUf8

Reviews: Game of Thrones – Season 6 Episode 5. 

SPOILER ALERT! This post will contain shit that’ll ruin both your life and Game Of Thrones. You’ve been warned…

 

Still here? Champion! Then I’ll begin.

 

Right, I’m pissed off, massively pissed off. Why? Well, one certain aspect of this weeks GOT was weak as fuck!!! Yes, you heard me straight. I just said GOT is weak as fuck! Well, not all of it, obviously, just one bit. Before you ask, no, I’ve not just shot gunned a 24 crate of red bull, nor have I held my breath until I go all light headed, and yes I know by bitching about GOT, I run the risk of being lynched by a mob of red face angry virgins baying blood. But fuck it, this is how I roll.

 

*Cop-out disclaimer time! I’m a certified twat and a sci-fi/fantasy snob who freely admits to having donned my uber-critical-wanker-hat after discovering that good old George is now writing new and uncharted material. For fuck sake dude, why didn’t you just ask me? Christ, I’m broken in all the right places to dream up plenty ‘o weird arsed content. Before you know it the show would be knee deep in asthmatic tobacco chewing ferrets wanting to turn the throne into a bird bath, while skinning Ramsey for being an bellend.

Am I wrong, however, in understanding  that George has recruited new blood to help his aching bones drag his carcass over the finishing line, or has he been doing that all along? Answers on a post card/post if you cab be arsed. Again George, where was me email? Prick.

As a result of me being an uber-critical chump, I can’t shake this nagging feeling that not only is trying to ruin my viewing pleasure, but worries me they’ll go and balls up all the good work done thus far.

 

Don’t worry, I’m almost at the point where I tell you what I thought was wrong with the episode; chill!

 

White Walkers, they’re white and they, um, walk… Love ’em or hate ’em – and I love ’em – I feel they were criminally under played in this weeks show. I mean what the flying fuck! Their whole back story was encapsulated in a single frigging vision that lasted no more than 20 chuffing seconds! George, I beg you, please for the love of the dragons, sack whomever thought that was okay!!

The Walkers are meant to be the end of days element created by that freaky looking female dryad because she was pissed that bloody Ikea had cut down her hedge, or something like that. I mean get real, the Walkers deserved way more of a build up than a swift shot of her sacrificing some geezer tied to a tree and in turn creating an army with which to fight the encroaching humans. I’ve no problem with the story premise, it’s a nice neat one, but I do have a problem that they didn’t even bother their arses to attempt to engage us on anything other than a visual level. Their was nothing to under pin the plight of the forrest dwellers, nothing. All we got was a half arsed remark from the green-eyed-bint when Bran questioned her. Her response was she’d spawned the shit storm  to protect themselves from Scandinavian loggers. Am I wrong in being this picky? Not sure, but I don’t think so. I totally understand the majority of each series serves only to set up the inevitable blood bath that is the last episode and the occasional curve ball, but unless their is something seriously meaty winging its way to back up the White Walkers creation, then I feel they’ve missed out on a rich theme.

 

Otherwise I’m loving GOT. I have to admit, however, the scene with the guy examining his wang back stage for warts caught me by surprise. But boobies are making a come back and while that is good, I suppose you have to have something for the ladies…even If it was a flaccid lumpy winky.

 

Peace.

 

PS, I get bored proof reading and apologise if nothing I say makes sense.

 

 

 

First things first, a mate of mine said while my last attempt at blogging sounded like me, it lacked a certain something; my personality. What he really meant was I was clearly trying to hard not to offend folks and it didn’t sound right. So, having taken that on board, I’m going to have another crack at blogging and while I’ll try to keep it up for longer than eight weeks this time, I ‘ain’t promising nowt. Don’t think, however, I’m about to start hurling abuse in every direction indiscriminately. No, no I’m not, but what I will do is to rip the piss out of idiots that either are begging for it, or are so far up their own arses that they deserve it.

#tapintoyourinnerwanker

 

What does the above hash tag mean, I hear you ask. Well, it means be true to yourself. My inner wanker loves to laugh, is sometimes cruel, often intellectual and enjoys nothing more than picking and poking fun at himself and others. Saying that I’m not a total wanker, mind you.

 

Topic for today – friendship.

 

I’m a good friend, I think. Well, I’m a good person so surely that translates into being a good mate? Fucking ought to. Oh yeah, I’ll be swearing a whole lot more this time around. So if you’re easily offended, piss off and play with your dolls somewhere else.

 

This feels good, you wankers!

 

Topic Matthew! Right, where was I? Ah yes, I’m a good friend and in the interests of impartiality I’ll beg/bribe some of me mates to pipe up and give you their opinions.

 

I recently worked with a bloke whom I became good friends with – although the prick has just left the store and is now dead to me…I’m joking, ffs. Much to my surprise and delight, he’s almost as scathing a cunt as me – which is an achievement that ought to get the both of us arrested. The point to today’s blog is when is does friendship too much like hard work.

 

Punch me in the tits and call me a pleb but shouldn’t friendships be a two way street where both parties interact on a level footing and give as much as they take? You should be nodding about now because if I’ve learnt nothing from life it’s that you look after your friends and loved ones. If you can’t do that then you are a contemptuous sack of pony shite. My brother, my wife and a few others will always be my friends. The bond is unshakable and needs no tending. 50/50 all the way in every part of the friendship/relationship. If it’s anything less, the wheels will fall off…unless of course you’re a more forgiving and kinder person than me. Did I mention I’m a wanker? Think I did. We all have good friends that can be trusted, right?

 

We all have a flaky, narcissistic friends with an outrageous sense of entitlement as well. It’s harder to drop them like a hot stone when they have admirable qualities or are part of a group of mates. Drives me mad when they can’t shake the need for petty little games. When is enough too much. How far do you bend over to except them for what they are before they end up riding you like a pit pony? (two pony references – check) That my friends is up to the individual. If they make you miserable, sponge off of you, lie or steal, then I’d suggest moving on.

 

Righto, off to read through what I just wrote and hope I’ve not just told you lot to kill all those you don’t like, or owt.

 

 

 

 

Golden age.

evolution-of-man

While the title of this blog might have you thinking this’ll be some science fiction romp, sadly it isn’t.

Initially I intended to call this blog ‘The futility of faith’, but I decided against it. The change of mind had nothing to do with a fear of challenging religion, no, but everything to do with knowing it’d take me waaaay off topic – believe me I need no encouragement to loose focus.

Evolution has always fascinated me and after recently talking about it a great deal with a work mate, it got me thinking again. Off the back of my reignited interest, I’ve been reading and watching plenty of documentaries on the subject.

** Please note this is not a scientific piece, it’s nothing more than my ham-fisted grasp on evolution.

Golden age.

What do I mean by the golden age? I’m referring to mankind’s golden age and I’d argue we’re living it now. Does evolution stop or simply slow down when you know what to look for regarding devolve, or will not be able to see any change until long after it’s happened? Incidentally, If anyone reading this and knows of any recorded genetic variations within the our own DNA that’s considered the precursor to variation, then please tell as I’d love to read about it. Hum, that statement might be dafter than I presume given the time it takes for evolution to begin.

Told you I drift off topic, didn’t I?

I suppose some congratulations should be extended towards mankind for surviving this long and getting us where we are today. It’s all our own doing, right? Well, no, not really. I don’t think we can take too much credit for incremental variation, selection of the fittest and eventual evolution – although to do so would be ever-so human. By definition by being here then whatever changes we carry in our DNA had to have been successful? That I’m pretty sure is a loose definition of evolution?

So, I surmise that for whatever reason, biological, environmental or whatever, (I’d really love to know the key factors in what kick starts evolution) we won the evolutionary race to take over from the dominant species of the time. I’d even be so bold as to presume that mankind is likely to be the most successful species to have inhabited the earth. Kind of goes without saying given we’ve yet to unearth any evidence to the contrary.

One – nil to mankind. Get in!

So we sit atop the food chain, lords over all we perceive. 2 – nil, right? Well, maybe not. Okay, while our position of dominance is solid, given we’re adept at hunting prey and potential predators into extinction, I truly feel sure (could be wrong) that time is against us. The ‘end’ could come as an environmental disaster, meteor impact, biological super virus, or even (leaning heavily towards this option) we might mess things up ourselves. Personally I doubt it if we’re robust enough of a species to survive much of a catastrophe unscathed or otherwise. Especially given mother natures taste for brutality. If we are to survive then I imagine we’ll be taking a few steps backwards?

Call it a draw? 1 – 1…ahem.

Hominids, however, have managed to survive adversity in the past. I’m pretty sure Neanderthal man lived through at least one ice age that saw an end to countless apex predators and other established species. Okay, he was way more adept at survival than we are but surely having the most sophisticated organ in the known universe (our brain) has to count for something, right?

I’d like to say yes but imagine at best we’d most certainly devolve, loose mass, reduce brain size in order to conserve energy and survive, at worst we’d perish completely.

All sound’s a bit grim, right?

While trying unsuccessfully to sleep last night I got to thinking how could we preserve our knowledge should something devastating occur. We need something permanent in which to record our discoveries, but nothing lasts forever. How then do we? Do we launch probes into space on a thousand year return cycle? Litter the planet with data bases to be plundered in the future? Truth is I don’t reliably think we could. And even if we’re able who’s to say the next species of hominid will evolve like we have? That evolutionary variant might deem eyes and ears obsolete and instead communicate via pheromones. Okay, I’m drifting again but unless the devolution was but a small step and luck was on our side then maybe we’d recover. To be honest the ‘live happily ever after’ notion belongs in Hollywood. I suppose the cold truth would be if we die out then we’ve been found wanting and a non successful species.

Failing that we could just pray, I suppose. Oh wait, I’m not religious…I’m fu**ed!

Matt..

In search of technology!

The following is a copy of a conversation with an excellent lady that works for PC world.

wireless_technology_294595


Jessica: 
Hello, welcome to our live chat service. Is there anything we can help you with?
You: Do you know where I left Steve?
Jessica: Sorry I don’t
You: Steve is my Technicolored dream badger.
You: He and only he knows the way to the fridge.
Jessica: We must find Steve!!!
You: We must, it is important we do. Oh, and by golly it’s hot today.
You: I need a cold glass of milk, calms the nerves.
You: Would you like one?
Jessica: I would prefer some orange juice, but you need to start printing the lost posters for Steve so we can find him
You: Did you know milk is key ingredient in the manufacture of democracy.
You: Democracy can be found in the cupboard next to the fridge.
You: Don’t trust him though, democracy likes to set things on fire.
You: He burn the cat, don’t you know.
You: burnt*
Jessica: That is terrible,
You: Speaking of terrible, do you have any laptops without windows 8? Windows 7 laptops, they are the future…or is it furniture, I can’t recall.
You: It was the cat’s fault, mind.
You: He won’t listen and insists on trying to scale the back wall.
Jessica: You must stop him
You: Um, do you have any windows 7 laptops?
You: (That was me being serious.)
Jessica: It is a matter of utmost importance
Jessica: No, I am sorry but all of out laptop/desktop all have Windows 8 or 8.1 pre installed
You: I’ve tried to stop him but the cloaking device he stole off the gnomes enables him to move without being seen.
You: Noooooooooooo…..
You: Windows 8/8.1 is he work of Shaun.
You: Shaun the toilet duck/devil.
You: Okay then. What about SDD drives for desktops?
Jessica: Its not great compared to what they did have with windows 7, but you can buy it offline back up your PC then just install it
Jessica: And what would you like to know?
You: Thus far one has only found Samsung SDDs. Gordon Cor-Blimey said Samsung drives are made from old bottles tops and turkey necks, is that true?
Jessica: Sorry?
You: Buy it off-line? without an opperating system?
You: operating*
You: It’s okay, no need to feel sorry. I’m fine so long as I stay out of the sun.
Jessica: You could use the system you are currently on that should be running windows 7
You: But my system is like Mick Jagger, old and smells of cabbage.
You: (FLEX!!!!) 
You: In response to your sorry, my garbled question about SDDs was to ascertain if you sell anything other than Samsung. 
You: Mother of god, the cats at it again!
Jessica: Get the broom!
You: Good idea!
Jessica: And I will double check this is the mean time
You: Splendid.
You: I am forever in the shade and in your debt.
Jessica: OK so we do a few other than Samsung, Sand disk and OCZ it would appear
You: Damn my three fingers!
You: It appears I’ve miss-typed again!
Jessica: Oh and crucial
You: You’re right, it is crucial I find them!
You: Without my fingers I can’t play the banjo, nor efficiently scratch.
Jessica: It is one of the brands, but well played
You: Thank you.
Jessica: Teach the cat to help
Jessica: Or Steve when you find him
You: The cat only speaks Spanish.
You: Curse him.
Jessica: I recommend Rosetta stone if you want to learn Spanish
Jessica: He might listen to you then
You: Jessica, it has been a pleasure and rest assured I will forever place you on a pedestal and use you shadow to avoid UV damage and sun stroke!
Jessica: I am glad to hear it, I hope I have helped and it is safe to say you have made my day
You: Before I lost my fingers to Maximilian Spleen – the local card shark (he’s a great white) – I had a perfect set of digits.
You: And since loosing them mine and the cat’s friendship has soured somewhat.
You: It’s hard to communicate in sign language with only two middle fingers and one thumb! Everything is a’okay or f**k off!
You: Oh Jesus, I only have two fingers, not three…
Jessica: I would just draw a diagram with my toes
You: And on that note I will dive head first out of the window in an effort to wipe my memory so I may learn from my mistakes…
You: Wait, that is complete gibberish!!
You: I am, however, glad to have cheered you up and thank you for enlightening me on what brands of SDDs you have.
Jessica: No problem
Jessica: Should you have any questions in the future, please feel free to chat with us again.
You: Like the late and great Mork once saidto Mindy.
You: Nanoo-nanoo.
You: x
Jessica: Take care
Jessica: I hope you have a great day!
You: You to, over and out!

Matt..

th

Right, here goes… What the flying f**k is wrong with society nowadays? I mean, I get man’s incessant need to create, expand and make better, but do we really need an injection that’ll cure a double chin? No, do we f***. Jesus, like that’s the most pressing issue facing us as a species at the moment. I’d say the likelihood of fossil fuel running out, or a rogue asteroid slamming us back to the stone-age are both more worrying than having enough chins so that it feels like you’re in a perpetual headlock.

Call this radical but I know of a solution that doesn’t involve surgery or some dodgy concoction to make you look and feel better – it’s called eating sensibly and exercise.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not beating up on fat people, no, not at all, but what really winds me up is with every biological or technological break through come a slight increase in out waist sizes and a reduction in the masses IQ. Yet no matter how easy s*** gets, we still bitch like buggery about everything. Oh and you musn’t forget mankind’s greed clinging to the coattails of endeavor like some leg humping jack rustle terrier, only with bags of cash and, um, glasses…ahem.

I totally understand as a species we are great innovators but surely their has to be some sort of saturation point that once crossed we’ll only be doing ourselves harm?

It kind of reminds me of that old Chinese proverb that Geronimo, the old three fingered, half blind school caretaker once told me… ‘Give a man a stick and he’ll most likely sharpen, travel to the next farm on his donkey and jab a goat in the eye…or something.’ Ahem…

While the more astute amongst you may have realized that wasn’t Chinese or even a proverb, you might habe understood understand (doubt it) what I mean.

For those wondering what the f**k I’m wibbling, I’ll keep you guessing no longer. Sometimes even the best conceived ideas aren’t always received as intended. I’m pretty sure if I bothered – don’t worry, I can’t be arsed – that if I took the time to browse the WWW, I’d find endless references where noble creations have been twisted into nefarious ends.

So, eat a carrot, walk to work and get a cat. Peace.

Matt..

Lies! Nasty Lies!

Strange days in Thanet…

Lilly’s battle face…quake in fear!

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Okay, this started for my daughter but quickly got out of hand…

The battle of the nine-spans.

Banjo the tongue-less toad who lived at the bottom of Fudge Lake, needed urgent help.

Above, at the surface, Banjo could hear Mike, Mikey, Mick, Michael and Mikael…the five flies of the apocalypse circling menacingly.

Who within the nine-spans could save him?

Neither his friend Carl-Paul Tunnel, the mole man, who’d yet to be released from rehab due to his tapeworm addiction, nor Maximilian Kidney who’d been sent to prison until next Wednesday for organ trafficking, could be counted upon.

With his options seeming limited, Banjo wept in despair. Then suddenly it hit him. He cried out at as loud as his scuba equipment would allow, ‘Lilly ‘the whirling dervish’ Thomas.’

Lilly who’d been completely exonerated of all wrong doing by the Council of Spam with regards to the abduction of Little Bo-Peep-Shows gyrating sheep, had been given back her tinsel spurs and could often be seen at the sweaty-pit pub in grotty hollow where she worked as a bouncer.

Knowing she’d surely help, Banjo rejoiced by quaffing a pint of fresh slug slurm.

Regardless of work commitments – for it was free-drink-Friday down at the sweaty-pit – Banjo’s twitching hair lip told him she’d surely help.

And help she did!

Lilly arrived upon a Stilton rainbow riding upon Crab-apple her crusty French bread unicorn.

Lilly met Banjo sunning his buttocks upon his favourite mat of flotsam and without a word being said she knew what was needed of her.

Digging in her heels Lilly spurred Crab-apple towards the horizon and headed for Adrian Dobb’s hide out. The creeper king had gone too far this time.

The battle was long and brutal and almost completely needless. Before Adrien could surrender, Lilly stormed his hide out, slaughtering two-thirds of his bread stick army and disembowelled Rhubarb Von-Crumble his trusted desert chef.

‘It was a joke’, cried Adrian but not sufficiently loud enough so Lilly could hear him above her humming diamond sword as she swept aside the last of the bread sticks.

Striding forwards, Lilly, with her spare hand, opened a can of whoop-ass and the explosion of light refracted off her polished diamond armour completely blinding Adrian.

Somewhere at the back of her enraged mind something awoke and just in time she checked her custard splattered blade.

‘Here take it,’ sobbed Adrian, ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’

In his hands he held ‘side-swipe’, Banjo’s trust fly swatter. For Banjo was keeper of peace and needed it to fight off the five flies of the apocalypse and restore order to the nine-spans. One day Banjo would win back his tongue from Mr. Cleavage and together he and Lilly would uncover the truth behind the fridge!!

Jesus, what is wrong with me?!

Matt..

Ps, I only put ‘urgent’ so someone might read it…

Interstellar.

interstellar

So, I went, I watched…but was it any good?

Right, before I get going I’d like to make it clear writing movie blogs isn’t something I ordinarily do. I do, however, love movies and picking through their plots.I’ll start on the defensive by saying I’ve honestly not read anyone else’s blog or review about the film and, again if I’m honest, I kept it that way to avoid regurgitating someone else’s opinion.

Oh and…**SPOILER WARNING! SPOILER WARNING! SPOILER WARNING!**

The movie begins by thrusting the viewer into a bleak future where mankind stumbles helplessly towards extinction. With the real possibility of starvation due to a mysterious blight that’s claimed all but maze, you immediately sense things are only going to get worse.

The brooding Cooper, played by the thoroughly excellent Matthew McConaughey, to me felt like a man out-of-place. It transpires Cooper is a talented and well-educated but now redundant NASA pilot. While he cuts a disconsolate and deeply unsatisfied farmer, he has a certain charisma that leaves you in little doubt he places others needs before his own.

The slightly unorthodox relationship between Cooper and his young daughter Murph, played initially by Mackenzie Foy, was, for me, a little understated given the level of connection needed later on in the movie. I’ll explain what I mean towards the end.

One idea I enjoyed immensely was how story allowed itself to develop and didn’t force the issue. While some might argue it had the time to do so – the film was over two and a half hours – it didn’t for me drag or seem padded with irrelevance.

Another notion I loved that permeated the movie was that maybe the planet wasn’t ours and that it’d grown tired of humanity. This, for me, really caught my imagination and gave the film a gritty, realistic feel.
Just ask my friends, I love dystopian ideas.

The sub-plot that drove the film was the supposed appearance of a ghost within the Cooper household. Murph, ridiculed by Tom, her older brother, played by Timothee Chalamet, is told by Cooper to document and evaluate her ghost’s behaviour scientifically. Throughout the early part of the film you get a sense that Cooper is trying to nurture Murph’s natural curiosity and maverick intelligent and save her from the mundane that is almost certain to be her future. Tom’s path, mind you, is all but set out for him regardless of his academic achievements. After all, the belligerent Cooper is told while attending a parent-teacher meeting, ‘the world need’s farmers, not pilots.’
While there is a definite sense of favouritism within the household, Cooper understands and appreciates Tom’s burgeoning skill in farming, but even so Murph is still his focal point.

The plot speeds up considerably when Murph, having done as instructed, finds repetition within the ghost’s activities. Upon sharing her findings with Cooper, the pair soon realise the patterns Murph found in the ever-present dust on her bedroom floor are in fact map coordinates.

While I’m going to skip most of the post take off story and concentrate on the under pinning ‘feelings’ and ‘emotions’ brought to bear, I would like to say throughout the film Interstellar is visually impressive and the sound track, while rather loud, fits perfectly.

If you’ve got kids there is no way the leaving scene between Cooper and Murph couldn’t have affected you; especially when a distraught Murph, having refused to say goodbye initially, runs out only to her father driving away. I felt sorry for Cooper during long space travel to the wormhole – especially as it was only Tom who’d recorded any messages for him. While Cooper had little or no choice to leave, I couldn’t help but feel he jumped at the chance, again backing up my ‘man out of place’ theory.

Shortly before take-off is the first time you get to see the awkward and somewhat daft droids. While initially their boxy appearance had me cringing, they seriously come into their own later on. As comical as the droids looked, their dialog absolutely sparkled. The tit for tat conversations between Cooper and the droids was not only a much-needed relief valve from the heavy setting but some of the most memorable parts in the film. That is, however, not to say the film was too heavy, hell no, let’s just say in my opinion the droids complemented the story perfectly.

Before the launch a mysterious ‘they’ are mentioned. It’s presumed ‘they’ are the creators of not only the wormhole but the gravitational quirks on earth and for some unknown reason looking out for mankind.

**Interlude** Well done and give yourselves a pat on the back for getting this far without falling into a comma, or stumbling over a full stop. See what I did there?

Ahem…I’ll continue.

Up until the point where the crew of the Endurance travel through the wormhole, the film has been mostly about survival of the species and endeavour in the face of adversity, etc, etc. While that might sound somewhat over powering, it certainly didn’t feel that way. I suppose the perfect antidote to all the go-getting was the subsequent betrayals that lent a little darkness to the mix. There had to be a little backstabbing, I suppose…after all we are human and skullduggery is in our nature.

Things become more desperate when the crew travel to one of twelve pre-selected planets. Each of these planets was visited by a single manned vessel in order to ascertain its capability of sustaining human life. These Lazarus missions called for extreme sacrifice on the part of the voyagers, for the secondary vessel would only be able to visit the three standout locations.

Upon reaching the first site it becomes immediately apparent that although the planet appears to be suitable, it is (hope I remember this bit correctly) caught in the gravitational pull of Gargantua, a nearby black hole and thus time moves more slowly on its surface.

It’s at this point crew member Brand, played by the lovely Anne Hathaway, questions Cooper’s time saving motives. Naturally Cooper is concerned with the planets time distorting effects and how he now runs the risk of breaking the promise he made to Murph when he left. He, disregarding the advice of his father in law (John Lithgow) to not promise something he couldn’t achieve, told Murph when he gets back they might be of the same age. Despite his fears, Cooper cooperates and fly’s them to the surface.

Having narrowly avoided complete disaster, the remaining crew are forced to move on to the next site. It is at this point that the notion of love rears its normally unwelcome head. I say that because once love infects a sci-fi or fantasy story, the wheels soon fall off and becomes mushy claptrap. I am glad, however, to say that this wasn’t the case with Interstellar. I suppose the camaraderie and backs to the wall setting is really just remanded affection? Yeah, I suppose loves always there, right? You know, lurking in the back ground like some soppy-sneak-thief looking to pluck…RIGHT, enough of that nonsense!

Ohhhhh, I’d better pull my finger out. I have to pick the kids up from school in an hour…and have yet to shower or get dressed. Currently I’m sitting here in my Liverpool FC dressing gown writing this.

Concentrate Thomas!!

Right…Brand is now at odds with Cooper as to their next destination. She chooses what seems to be the next most suitable location and intends to take the expedition there. However, it hadn’t escaped Cooper’s hawk like attention that Brand might have feelings for the pilot of that particular vessel and thus compromising her choice. If I’m not mistaken there are doubts as to whether both remaining sites can be visited due to fuel consumption being higher than anticipated. I’m not sure to be honest but Cooper overrules Brand by drawing upon something she’d said earlier in the film to the effect Dr. Mann, one of the two remaining sites, is the ‘best of us’.

They head to Dr. Mann

The fact that Brand’s loved one will surely die and Cooper’s continued sacrifice struck a powerful chord in me. I felt it helped personalise the movie and while that might, and most likely is, an obvious and a daft thing to say, it strengthened the films ‘feel’.

Fast forward>>>

Following more betrayal and a bold a piloting manoeuvre by Cooper, the mission is back on track – albeit it just about.

With the last just one site left to explore and not enough fuel, Cooper estimates if they sling shot the gravitation pull of the Gargantua that they can catapult Brand onward to the last destination. TARS, the main droid, sacrifices itself (don’t get mushy, it has no choice) to shove both Cooper and Brand free.
And off they go, right? Wrong. Cooper also follows TARS in to the black hole in an attempt to undo the lie perpetuated by Dr. Brand, played by Michael Cane. Yep you guessed it, DR. Brand is Brand’s father.
Dr. Brand’s deceit lay in his claimed he’d be able to conquer earth’s gravity by the time the team find a suitable home and thus save those on earth by propelling them to safety.

Murph, having caught Cooper up in age due to Gargantua’s time altering effects, has become Doctor Brand’s confidant. Thing’s change dramatically when the now dying Dr. admits to Murph his life’s work was a sham and not only is there no plan B.
Plan A was to find a home for the millions of fertilised human eggs upon the Endurance, whereas plan B involved cheating gravity and saving the rest of mankind. However, Dr. Brand used the theory as a ploy to keep people working and focused, even though he would never have been able to crack the gravity enigma due to insufficient data.

After the Dr’s death, Murph, distraught at the notion her father lied and never intended to come home, communicates with Brand upon the Endurance. Cooper over hears the message and if I’m not mistaken either Murph tells Brand that the only way to solve the Dr’s riddle is by recording data from within a black hole, or that Cooper deduces that himself. I can’t recall but either way that’s exactly what Cooper does.

With the spacefaring Brand now set free of Gargantua’s pull, Cooper detaches follows TARS into the abyss.

From what little I know about black holes, I presumed they’d either have been torn apart earlier or frazzled by radiation. However, they must have had some shielding or some über gizmo to protect them. However, the story speed bump was yet to come…

Basically when Cooper travels into Gargantua he finds himself trapped within a strange construct composed entirely of memories based around Murph and her room. Although this idea was a little trippy, I did like it.
Quickly Cooper ‘deduces’ he’s caught in what he believes to be a wormhole created by ‘them’ and by ‘them’ I mean a future version of humanity. While this did initially strike me as a bit of a ‘leap’, it does make sense. Here’s why. Cooper was privy to many of the happenstance going on in Murph’s room and now seeing them from this skewed perspective – the other side of the book shelf – he realises the anomalies weren’t a ghost trying to communicating with Murph, it was himself from the future.

It’s at that point that Cooper picks up a communication from TARS and instructs the droid to beam its sensory findings back to earth. TARS, however, is unable to do so due to interference, etc. Wracking his brains, Cooper understands that when he moves around the construct he is able to manipulate moments in which he can surreptitiously communicate with his daughter. Unable to beam the data to mankind, Cooper instructs TARS to relay the data to him so that he might be able to convert it into Morse code and program the watch he gave Murph that lays upon her book shelf.
Simultaneously (relatively) the older Murph has travelled back to her old bedroom for she has a feeling something there will help her crack gravity.

And here comes the story speed bump. Basically Murph picks up her watch only to see the second-hand flicking erratically back and forth. Within moments she realises the ghost was in fact her father and that he’s programmed something (the thing she needed) in to the watch.

Yay, mankind is saved! Wasn’t that easy really? Game over!

Okay, joke as I might, I found that part disrupted the otherwise smooth flow of the film and kind of left me feeling cheated. Is cheated too strong? No, I don’t think it is. Seeing as this twist was semi out of the blue, it felt cheap and half-baked. Up until that part I was hooked, and enjoying everything on offer.

The reason I’m writing this is because it took me a further few days to forgive the movie for the story blip and enjoy it for what it was, which was an excellent film.

Here, however, here is a simple suggestion that might have eased the twist upon the viewers.

Idea# How about the notion Cooper and Murph somehow share a level of mental connection beyond the norm and one not already indicated in the movie? While I’m not talking mind bullets or ESP, the idea they share a rare mental bond would have made the twist not seem so unlikely.

Regardless I loved the movie and I will keep my eye out for more from Mr. Nolan; especially as I loved Inception beyond words.

Regards, Matt..

Ps…I have another idea. I grant you this one is a little more sci-fi and maybe not in keeping with the theme, but I feel with a little tinkering it would fit seamlessly…ish.

Idea2# The world is rapidly falling down around our ears, we know that already. Surely the stain of would affect to other parts of society, making us less productive or tolerant, etc?
We know that Murph’s mother died sometime in the past but exactly when we’re not sure. Maybe she died before Murph was born and in a desperate bid to save his daughter Cooper, being the most compatible, donated himself as a surrogate body. While I’m not talking a pregnant man, maybe Cooper spent several months connected to an artificial womb?
Who knows, maybe this unorthodox and desperate connection could be the reason why the two might share feelings, thoughts or mannerisms? Surely that would have made Murph’s Morse code assumption easier to manage?
Okay, now I write it I see it is pretty far-fetched, but then again, so is worm-holing our way across solar systems looking for a new home.

I’m done now and well done if you stayed with me.