Turning pro in less than 362 days!

Hopefully turning pro in less than six thousand three hundred and eighty nine days!

Friday, 22 April 2011

Movie Review - Rio

Genre: animation

Running Time: 96 minutes 23 seconds 

We’re all fucked. America is morally, intellectually and spiritually bankrupt and has decided to embark on a pernicious and mendacious attempt to warp the minds of children everywhere. I’ve a good mind to sue the country for pumping out this horseshit.

I should confess that I hadn’t gone to the cinema to see this – I wanted to see Thor, but it wasn’t out yet, and this was the only thing showing in the next five minutes. I hadn’t seen an animated film at the cinema since my dad developed epilepsy watching Watership Down in 1978, so I thought, fuck it, why not!
So, what’s it all about?

It’s about a blue parrot called Rio, and boy does he look like a total cleft. If you’ve seen ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ and remember that guy in the asylum with the thin head and sloping down eyes then he looks like him, once he’s been asphyxiated and genetically grafted with the bloke from ‘The Hills Have Eyes’.
And he can’t fly. He’s domesticated so he don’t know how. He does however, know how to clean his teeth (what fucking teeth? he’s a parrot you bumholes), fill up a kettle, pop toast, draw the curtains, ride toy cars, type passwords into computer networks and get on my fucking manjugs. He is essentially the most punchable film character since Danny Dyer. 

Oh yeah, him and his owner, this dead eyed Minnesota woman with a head like an albino strawberry, have this little secret handshake that they do. It made we want to not only remove their heads but also those of everyone at the cinema. Don’t worry, I didn’t do it, although I did yell my frustrations at a small boy, who had to be taken home. The way I see it, I taught him more during those two horrendous seconds, than that movie ever could. About the REAL world.

And he’s voiced by the guy from ‘The Social Network’. Oh my God, a neurotic parrot voiced by a stereotypical Jewish man with a voice that sounds like his face has been sucking on a syrup flavoured cock until it’s nothing but dust. 

Anyway, it turns out that he’s the last of a species, so they fly him to Rio to mate with the last remaining female. Except she hates him. Even the very last of his species thinks he’s a pathetic little blue turd. It’s the quintessential parrot meets woman, woman loves parrot, parrot gets taken away, woman meets man, parrot meets parrot, parrot hates parrot, woman hates man temporarily, parrot grows to love parrot, woman grows to love man movie. Somewhere in the middle the two parrots get kidnapped again but escape to the top of a cliff. Only Blue, the bastard, still can’t fly. As he tries to conquer his fears and leap off the cliff he hilariously declares:

“Oh my, keep it simple, thrust, lift, drag, I can do it, I can do it, I can’t do it”.


And so it went on.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

An Apology For All Daves

To be honest, I’m feeling a bit ashamed of myself, after my last outburst. It was petty and out of order. I have privately been called a Davist, and I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I am in no way a Davist, and do not judge anyone by the lack of colour of their name. Ironically, the guy who accused me of being a Davist was, of course, called Dave, and he had this huge, grey face, like an angler fish, stank like an orc’s underpants and was, in short, a total cunt. When he walked across to me in the cafĂ© I knew immediately that he was a Dave. What I didn’t realise is that he was one of the 7 people to have read my unfortunate blog. Since this incident, from which I was lucky to escape with my eyebrows, I have been stopping anyone in the street, or elsewhere, that I think looks like a cunt. Here are the findings.


I hope you can make it all out. I had originally created it in a Word doc, but this wouldn't import into blogger, so I had to print screen and turn it into a jpg and then import it as a picture. OK, the quality is poor, but hopefully it's enough to highlight some of my skills to any potential employers that may consider me for an alternative role to screenwriting.

As you can see, over half of them were called Dave, and now I’m starting to get freaked out by all this. So I do some more research.
  • The most hated man in the U.K. is called Dave. Surname Cameron. You might’ve heard of him.
  • Michelangelo once did a famous statue called ‘Dave’ that had a very small willy.
  • Dave is the patron saint of Wales.
  • Many people have had to change their names from Dave to get ahead. These include David Bowie, David Icke and Barack Obama.
  • Bono’s middle name is Dave.
A coincidence? You decide.

Anyway, I’ve decided to partition my blog from now, as the lines are getting blurrier. The main one will be my screenwriting journal, where every week I give myself an exciting new challenge, to help me to get ahead in the business and to move from A-hole to A-lister! This week I’m going to be writing hilarious messages to famous people on twitter. Hopefully some of them will pay off and I’ll get a gig or two out of it. Elsewhere you will be able to find rants, movie reviews and excerpts from my work. 

Word of Warning highlighted red. It might take a bit of time for this transition to take place, as I now have anger management classes on Wednesday afternoons, when I would normally be writing my blog, and will also have to learn new skills to implement the changes. Wish me luck, I'm about to get balls deep in html!

Thursday, 7 April 2011

How to Write a Sitcom Part 3

As I alluded to in my previous blog I’ve been neglecting the very purpose of this blog, which is to inform anyone who cares to read this of the progress of my attempts at becoming a professional screenwriter. I have allowed myself too easily to become distracted and go off on tangents.  I will be addressing this in this blog, when I discuss the sitcom I’m currently preparing. I’ll be discussing the wisdom that I have picked up over the years, including my opinions on structure, how U.S. sitcoms differ to U.K. ones, the methods I use to generate ideas and character, and may even paste in an except from the current draft, to entice you in. When I say you, I mean my only follower. Not that I’m not grateful. That means I am grateful.  If you’re reading this, please don’t take offence and unfollow me, I’m just sounding off.

Firstly though, I want to briefly talk about Daves.

Dave. What a fucking name. Glad I’m not called Dave. Daves really piss me off. OK, Gartholomew isn’t the best name, but it’s still much better than Dave. What’s your name? Gartholomew. Really? Yes, I know it should be Bartholomew, isn’t my dad funny. Still, at least my brothers aren’t called Jimothy and Nedward. Because I don’t have any. My mum wouldn’t let him. And I can shorten it to Garth. Wow! That is weird. I know. Ok, cool, let’s talk about it some more. Hey presto, we’re talking! You never know, we might get married. What’s your name? Dave. Oh, right. Nice meeting you. Anyway, got to go, left the oven on. So I could kill myself when I get home.

 Let’s look at the evidence. The TV channel, Dave. Has absolutely nothing new to say, whatsoever. Just churns out the same old shit, day after day. Sounds like good ole Dave, everyone knows good ole Dave yeah? Let’s name our channel after him. Ok, he only knows two jokes and repeats them ad infinitum, but what a good ole boy. Until you tell him one of your new jokes. You know it’s new because you’ve only just made it up. You think, I know, I’ll tell it to good ole Dave, and he loves it, loves it so much it is instantly assimilated into his vocabulary and, before you know it, he’s used it to chat up someone that you fancy, which then works and he is in, instead of you. What a cunt. 

In 2006 a study was done on the reaction of the human cortex to sounds. All manner of shits were attached to people’s heads and the results displayed on an EEG. A constant utterance of ‘OM’, the sacred Hindu word, and the brain waves went off the scale, people became more alert, yet sedate. They found that when they went back to their everyday lives they were significantly higher functioning. Explain that Richard Dawkins. And guess what produced the worst results. You’ve guessed it, ‘DAVE’. When this was uttered in a constant, stream-like utterance, it led to nutterance. Brain activity entered a near stasis, and when the individuals went back to their daily lives they found they had an unstoppable urge to drink five cans of Stella Artois, shit themselves, talk rubbish, steal people’s women and punch someone in the face. NASA are apparently looking into these findings, and the U.S. government has banned anyone from calling out for anyone named Dave over a distance greater than four yards.

And if you think this has anything to do with you hitting on Samantha, Dave Edmonds, then you’re wrong, I’ve always FUCKING hated the name Dave.

I need to calm down. I’ll write the blog about the sitcom tomorrow, or something.