Sunday, January 13, 2013

Humphrey's Blog-Pitch Half Hour sponsored by Anusol

So, blog-reading legends, I thought that maybe today, while I am still trying to get a grip on this blog and what it is, I would offer up some different types of specific blog I could write and see what people liked the sound of. So:


I post pictures of sexy tanks and what-have-you. Probably the odd armoured personnel carrier or even a Kettenkrad. Perhaps from time to time I will photoshop tanks to make it look like they are having sex with each other to justify the rhyme-heavy title.  


I post pictures of baked goods that look slightly like Hollywood celebrities. E.G. Flan Hathaway. To be honest it probably won't get better than Flan Hathaway. Perhaps we should give this a swerve.


I post pictures of footballers that have grown into rude shapes like a willy or a bum or something. I will probably just curate this cause I reckon a shit heap of these will get sent in.


Pretty self-explanatory.

Ker out. 


Friday, January 11, 2013

I'm Back, I'm Bad, But I'm Neither Black Nor Mad

Well, well, well. Who could have seen this coming? Jesus? Maybe. He sees everything. That's kind of his deal. Aside from Jesus, who would have had the temerity to say: "Humphrey's blog? Defunct? No dice muchacho. You'll see. Just under two years of dormancy will be shattered by an incredible return by Blogging's premier prodigal son, confounding his critics and whipping fans of meandering self-aggrandisement into hitherto unforeseen paroxysms of excitement. Hell, he'll even use the word paroxysms."

NOBODY. That's who. Well bad luck every prick who doubted me, sorry to harsh your vibe. True to my maverick and unconventional form, I have returned like Ian Rush after a year (two years) at Juventus. So, sorry The Man/Woman. Your comfortable complacency, born of a confidence that the sharpest tongue of the twenty-first century had laid down his e-quill and taken up his remote controller/penis for good, is about to be shattered by my triumphant return.


Together we can change the world, readers. I love saying "readers" like that because it reminds me of the fourth wall breaking in the Beano and Dandy comics I read as a kid when there were no Commando comics to read.

Now, I know there were some big words spoken when last we met, dear reader, and I made some promises that I didn't keep. I'VE CHANGED. You've made me realise that I can be a better blog-etiser and I will change for you. I can, I will, I must.

Thank you for believing in me.

I'm back. And this time I'm here to stay.

God Bless America.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Escaping on a technicality.

Well. This. Is. AWKWARD. I have boasted a couple of times on these hallowed pages of my plan to try and update this thing every working day. Well. As the more eagle-eyed among you may have spotted, I haven't been as assiduous with this as I might have been. Well suck on these extenuating circumstances you pack of mothers:

I only try to blog before I start writing something else. I have been busy with other real important stuff of late and as a result the first couple of days this week have been a snafu for the writing.

Case dismissed. Clear the court. I am busy again today so this is literally it.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Here comes the cavalry

Wowee gang, it is LATE! Nearly 11 o'clock. I should be in bed tucked up in my jamys with Barnes Wallis' face on them. I am, instead, eating lasagne in the ruins of my sitting room, (we are re-decorating) and thinking back over the first run out of my Super Top Secret Fringe Show.

I was joined by top humourisers Nico Tatarowicz and Totally Tom. They were both distressingly excellent, placing undue pressure on my hitherto untested material. A good time was had by all. Those guyses is funny guyses. I was very pleased with how my gold was received, as the bovine scum that make up my audience guzzled it up and begged for more. Look out for many swell opportunities to come and look-see before it is consigned to the dustbin of history.

Anyway. This is a super self-indulgent blogpost, but if I was going to continue my one-a-week-day policy it had to be done. This probably won't make the leather-bound print edition of my collected writings.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

No Country for Old Ben Franklin

Hey Homes,
As you may or may not be aware of by now, I am a huge American-o-phile. I love America and I want to groom it on the internet before going to a remote location and being caught on camera for an episode of Dateline: To Catch An America Predator. (Has anyone seen the show to which this joke is referring? It is just the worst.)

Anyway, because I am doing a quicksmart blog again today because I am SO important and BUSY, I thought I would give you a quick top 5 rad ways to immerse yourself in American history/culture:

1) HBO's John Adams starring Paul Giamatti. It is brillo and full of the sort of splendid rhetoric that is sorely missing from today's politics. It reminds you of what a genuinely brilliant idea America was at the time. It's been diluted and ripped off a bit since then, but the original idea was great. Get it on dvd and find yourself, once again, rooting for the rebel scum.

2)Battlecry of Freedom by James M. Macpherson. It's a book, sorry word-haters, all about the origins and events of the American Civil War, told with the sort of excellent writing that makes a history book a real page turner. It can be found here.

3) BASEBALL by Ken Burns. Gigantic documentary charting baseball from it's 1850s origins to the present day. It is about baseball, funnily enough, but also covers the vast spectrum of American life that is touched the national pastime which, it turns out, is EVERYTHING. This is a snippet about Lou Gehrig, of Lou Gehrig's disease fame, announcing his retirement from baseball due to his deteriorating health. Warning: Very sad.

4)The West Wing. If you haven't seen this then for God's sake do. It is the best tv show ever made I think. Inspiring, funny and heart-breaking in equal measure. The post-9/11 episode is one of the classiest episodes of any tv show ever and they knocked it together in about two days. Check. It. Out.

5) How to Train Your Dragon. This is the best film ever and as such makes it onto any list of anything I will ever write.

Right, that's your lot. Now sod off.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Quick's the word and sharp's the action.

No time gang. No time to get into the inner workings of the world that are so regularly stripped back to the bone and laid bare to piercing gaze of the interweb here upon this altar of incisive commentary. I am a busy bee today. As a result I can only throw out a series of questions for you, my acolytes to ponder upon:

Why are puppies so much better than everything else? Sure it makes sense for them to be a bit better, but THAT much better? I detect the work of some intelligent designer and I shouldn't be too surprised if he/she turned out to be a really awesome puppy. Discuss.

If you could go back in time to any period of history and have sex with anyone, who would it be and why? And would it surprise you to know that the correct answer is that it would be with Rasputin, because you couldn't stop it from happening? Think on't.

Do you think Kenny Dalglish would like me if we met in a social situation? I do hope so. Four Thousand words on my desk by Monday.

Anyway, that's all I've time for today I'm afraid folks. I have been using the phrase 'Swinging the lead' a lot recently. It's a substitute for 'bulshitting' or 'trying it on'. It's an old nautical phrase. Why not enjoy its use yourself?

Film recommendation: The first hour or so of Never Let Me Go

Monday, February 14, 2011

Why are there still bad things in the world?

Did anyone watch the BAFTAs last night? They served as a reminder once again of the most extraordinarily glaring quandary in human existence: WHY ARE THERE STILL BAD THINGS IN THE WORLD?

The BAFTAS are a celebration of the superlatives of the film world. Many will argue that such awards are spurious; an unattractive display of cinematic daisy-chaining which ends with everyone knelt in front of Colin Firth and Tom Hooper as they bust their mighty art-load into our collective faces. Many sniff and decry these awards ceremonies as redundant for 'overlooking the truly astonishing performance of Hamman Zemouni, who was a child prostitute soldier before becoming an actor and delivering a blistering swipe at western pop culture as the protagonist in the 9-hour long Tunisian arthouse film Tunis Salad'.

I don't care about any of that. I like awards ceremonies for three reasons:

1) Watching sexy young actors and actresses deliver terrible jokes with appalling timing and die on their arses as they present awards. Or should I say try to present awards?! Right Jessica?



2) I like seeing cool old people getting their awards for lifetime achievement and generally being more charming and funny about it than the sexy young sorts. It gives them something to aim towards. Just think Rosamund Pike! With luck you too shall have liver spots, puffy eyes and a walking stick.

3) I am genuinely always moved by the "who died this year" montage. A few rippers in the BAFTAS one last night. Leslie Neilsen in particular a very great favourite of mine.

Awards ceremonies always allow you to think back over the films you've seen that year that you've loved and bask in the warm glow of remembering how awesome How To Train Your Dragon really was.


You also remember how many crap movies you saw and, in this instance, how many terrible opening numbers to awards shows and things you've seen. The dance around from the start of the BAFTAs was so incongruous and lame it hurt. It just smacks of someone going:

"They did it great at the Oscars with Hugh Jackman. It was like a classy throwback to the days of Fred and Ginger! Let's do that but funkier!"



This was the awards show equivalent of painting Nylon seams on the back of our legs with gravy so the Yanks would want to take us to the bop. It was demeaning and we ended up smelling of beef dripping.

The question is: Why do people get away with doing crap stuff like this? There must be so many people who had an opportunity to go, "that looks a bit naff". I find myself thinking about this a lot. There are so many occasions when one is struck by the sheer, blinding obviousness of the stupidity that has led to a, for example, ITV1 Miss Marple. The books are brilliant. The casts are always excellent. There is plenty of money. They are all witless, charmless guff. When people are perfectly capable of executing these sorts of things perfectly, why aren't these people?

It seems mad to me that as Humanity continues to advance through history that we are not slowly eradicating the errors that hold us back from taking our rightful place at the top table of galactic diplomacy.
(I'm saying that bad ITV1 drama is stopping aliens from making contact and letting us become important players in the federation)
Do people learn nothing from history? Look at Rome. Look at Great Britain. Look at the first episode of the series. Learn from these things.

There is so much accumulated knowledge about how and why various films, tv shows and awards shows have sucked, and why others have been briliant that one feels there should be no excuse for not being excellent.

I expect however that that's life isn't it? As a result, we can all confidently say that it's the executive's fault.

I'm not sure I've made any real point here, but I am an angry and capricious god. AMUSE ME!

In other news:

You simply must invest in the SyFy channel on Sky or cable or whatever. Last night I watched an astonishingly bad film. Genuinely the best of all the so bad it's good-ers I've ever seen.
It was called Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's: Sherlock Holmes. It made absolutely no sense, was chock full of continuity and anachronism errors, nobody's costume fitted and it messed around with the Holmes canon no end. It was about Thorpe Holmes, Sherlock's brother, a former police inspector who was presumed dead after being accidentally shot by his partner, a young Inspector Lestrade, but was actually alive and making a giant steam-powered dragon to kill Queen Victoria.

I know, it sounds AMAZING. It was, but for all the wrong reasons. Check it out.