My Ronnie Corbett Story (minus any funny bits)

So I went to the bank...

I went to the bank to pay in the cheque the insurance company had finally sent me in compensation for my written-off car. Getting that money has been a long and drawn-out process involving many phone calls of the "what's going on?" variety. I do hope I get the chance to score this company on their customer service at some point down the line because I'll happily rip them a new one. They were constantly telling me "you'll get a call tomorrow" but no call was ever forthcoming. After chasing them for a week to find out when the car was going to be valued ("mañana") I finally got someone to tell me, last Thursday, that the valuation would be in by the "end of the day".

"So you'll call me either this afternoon or tomorrow morning to tell me how much you'll be offering me?"

"No. We'll be calling you next Tuesday."

"TUESDAY? Why TUESDAY!?"

"Because that's when it's been diarised by the computer."

"OK, what if I call you back in the morning?"

"Oh, if you call us, we'll be able to tell you then. But if you don't call us, expect a call on Tuesday."

Unsurprisingly, then, I was ready for a fight when I actually got the quote. Yet it turned out to be more than I'd expected. They actually offered me the old car's market value (minus my excess), which, coincidentally, was exactly what I'd paid for my new car. I snapped their hands off because I was sick of dealing with them. Which was probably their plan all along.

Anyway, I went to the bank with my cheque. The bank is just across the road from the university where I have my teacher training lessons. Not the college where I do my placement... which is proving an eye-opening experience, I can tell you. If you ever want to feel old... talk to a class of young adults. Last week, the subject of Princess Diana's funeral came up. "What do you remember about that?" I asked them. "We don't," they replied. It was only at this point that I did a rough calculation and worked out... most of them weren't even born.

But I told the producer I wouldn't digress so much in telling this story, so let's get back to the bank where I took my insurance cheque. There's one woman in front of me in the queue and as she approaches the counter to make a payment of her own, she's pounced upon by an overzealous bank employee who wants to talk to her about her account.

"If you could just spare me a few moments, I think I can get you on a much better account."

"Well, I can't really... I've only ten minutes left on the parking meter."

"It won't take any longer than that."

She squirmed, made more excuses, but the vulture wouldn't let her alone. Finally she relented and agreed to follow him back to his desk for the hard sell. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least while he was tied up with her, I could make my payment and escape before he had chance to get his claws into me. And so I did...

I arrived at the university about ten minutes early for my lesson, so I joined a group of my fellow trainees in the coffee shop. I sat down for a chat and Americano... and that's when my phone started ringing. "I better turn that off before the lesson," I thought, but even though I didn't recognise the caller's number, I took the chance of answering it.

"Mr. Hirst? This is Bob Vulture from the bank? You were here a few minutes ago to pay in a cheque?"

"Erm... yes... is there a problem?"

"Oh, no problem with your cheque, Mr. Hirst. That's gone in fine. No, it's just that I noticed the current account you were using is quite an old one..."

(I didn't even pay the cheque into my current account - I paid it into my savings account. He had no reason to even look at my current account.)

"I wondered, if you were still nearby, if you wouldn't mind popping back in to see if I can't help you onto a better account for..."

I won't bore you with the rest, but yes, you guessed it, the "better account" was going to end up costing me more money... and yes, he rather lost interest in "helping me" once he discovered I was currently unemployed.

Here's an appropriate song in lieu of a punchline...

Movie Review: Another Earth

I knew very little about Another Earth as I walked into the cinema, only that it was a low budget movie about the discovery of an identical earth in orbit around our own. I was intrigued enough to give it a go, and I'm glad I did. Hidden away, with no stars and a limited release, this proved to be one of the year's most engrossing pictures.

As with all the best sci fi, the big ideas here take a back seat to the characters. Essentially this is a story about two people: a reckless young student (Brit Marling) with a promising career ahead of her and a successful composer and family man (Lost bit-parter William Mapother, cursed forever to be known as as "Tom Cruise's cousin", proving himself here to a far more interesting actor). Both their lives are changed on the night the second earth appears in the sky, and what follows is the story of how they rebuild themselves while a terrible secret lurks behind their every encounter. It's a doomed love story, beautifully observed, with strong performances from both leads. The film, written by Marling and director Mike Cahill, grips from the start and leads to an enigmatic, emotional and hugely satisfying conclusion. If you get a chance to catch it on the big screen, grab it.

My Week On The Web

Over at The Mixtape Lives On, we're gearing up for 2012 with my favourite songs about the End of the World. This week, that's included classic offerings from Johnny Cash, The Clash, The Handsome Family and Barry Maguire. We also played another great List Song by The Jim Carroll Band (about all his dead friends), new music from Low Roar - with the sublime title of "Friends Make Garbage, True Friends Take It Out" and continued my countdown of the best albums of 2011 with Noah & The Whale.

Elsewhere on the web this week, Dan from All That Comes With It broke his vow to never blog again by setting up a rival Slawit blog. Hey, I'm not worried - I can stand the competition!

Ryan and James Lindsay, my brothers from down under began their appeal to gather financing for their short film Soap - the story of a man who must wash his hands every hour, on the hour. Being a little bit OCD myself, I can sympathise...

Sam Johnson began teasing his new comic book...



And I discovered this year's heaviest Christmas record from Krashkarma...



...the music may not be to your liking, but the video's worth watching to see what happens when McCauley Culkin meets Freddie Krueger.



That was my week on the web - how was yours?

Book Review: The Courage Consort by Michel Faber

The Courage Consort, "possibly the seventh best-known a cappella vocal ensemble in Britain", are holed up in a rural Belgian château to rehearse the most complicated piece they've ever had to perform: Partitum Mutante. Forced to co-exist under the same roof for the first time, egos begin to clash and minds begin to fray. Relationship break down, strange allegiances form and... is that a ghost wailing in the woods?

Michel Faber's wonderfully observed satirical novella does for avant-garde classical music what Spinal Tap did for heavy rock. Although it's a short book, every sentence is a gem.

As for Dagmar, the most recent addition to the group, she'd stuck with the Courage Consort because they gave her fewer hassles than any of her many previous liaisons. After walking out on the Staatsoper because the directors seemed to think she was too sexually immoral to sing opera (her last role for them was Berg's prostitute Lulu, for God's sake!) she'd been a bit wary of these smiling English people, but it had turned out OK. They allowed her to get away with tempestuous love affairs, even illegitimate pregnancy, as long as she showed up on time, and this she had no trouble with. For nine months of ballooning belly she'd never missed a rehearsal: she'd given birth, prudently, during the lull between Ligeti's Aventures in Basle and the 'Carols Sacred and Profane' Christmas concert in Huddersfield. That was good enough for Roger Courage, who had sent her a tasteful congratulations card without enquiring after the baby's name or sex.

Extra marks for mentioning Huddersfield: we're proud of our Choral Society.

It's All About Meme

Stolen from Sunday Stealing...

1) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Buy my comic.

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Today, I feel like saying Stan Lee.

3) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Los Angeles circa 1940, when Raymond Chandler and Philip Marlowe walked those streets.

4) What do you think about most?

Stories.

5) You have the opportunity to spend a romantic night with the music celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

If you'd asked me this when I was 16, I'd have replied Carol Decker. Today though...?

Amanda Palmer. Not because I fancy her, just to piss Neil Gaiman off.

6) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger. Most of the horrible experiences in my past have proved inspirational fodder for stories...

7) What's your strangest talent?

Being able to sleep with headphones on.

8) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on?

Where did you bury the body?

9) Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Of course. Morrissey just doesn't realise it.

10) When is the last time you played the air guitar?

The last time I heard this...

11) Do you have any strange phobias?

Gumpophobia: The Fear of Tom Hanks.

12) What's your religion?

True believer (see question 2).

13) What is your current desktop picture?

14) When you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking.

15) What's the last song you listened to?

16) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Not at all simple. The obvious answer would be The Smiths... but a more contemporary answer would be The Indelicates.

17) What was the last lie you told?

"No, I don't want to go home."

18) Do you believe in karma?

I'm scared to say no, just in case...

19) What is a saying you say a lot?

"Hey, man, this is a private residence!"

20) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

i) Being rubbish at everything.

ii) Fooling people into believing I'm not.

21) Who is your celebrity crush?

Kate Winslet's restraining order has barred me from answering this question.

22) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word: heart.

Tragically, it was 'beat'. I must be a closet Nick Berry fan. I claim Buddy Holly.

23) How do you vent your anger?

With a silent scream.

24) Do you have a collection of anything?

Comics, though it's rapidly dwindling. Music. Books.

25) What is your favorite word?

Coffee. Hmm, coffee...

Comic Review: The Abnormals

When people talk about the most influential comics of the last 30 years, they often namecheck Watchmen or The Dark Knight Returns. Yet if the UK small press scene is anything to go by, I'd put Grant Morrison's seminal run on Doom Patrol high up on that list as well. That book certainly had a huge impact on me and I know Spandex's Martin Eden rates it highly as well. Now here comes Grant Springford, writer/artist of The Abnormals, a book which wears its Doom Patrol influence shamelessly on its sleeve - and that's no bad thing for fans of kooky, off-kilter super-hero fun.

The Abnormals Special #1 introduces us to a weird bunch of characters such as Meena Malhotra, Angie Gray (she's not an alien), Throwback, The Link, Nasty (Nastiorumbalokey) the imp and Jack Patch... and now I'm itching to read more. There's a good bit of set-up and foreshadowing as you'd expect from a first issue, but there's also a full story featuring a spooky threat on the London underground, savage poltergeists made up of lost property and despair. Grant's art is striking and vividly coloured and the script is sharp and intriguing.

Feeling Abnormal? Find out more here.

What's Another Year?

Sunset Over Slawit is five today, and it's been a pretty tumultuous year here at SOS-towers. This was the year I lost my job, crashed my car and fell foul of the local nutter.

On the plus side, I began training for a new profession, launched a successful comic and started a new music blog.

That last one seems a pretty crazy thing to do as the blogosphere itself continues to shrink (we said goodbye to RB and Dan this year, among others) and my own available blogging time decreases (it's amazing how much more free time there was in the day when I had a full time job). But The Mixtape Lives On is a fast-fix for my blogging cravings and I've always preferred writing about music to just about any other subject. Makes you wonder whether this blog will see a sixth birthday... I guess only time will tell. With the exception of Steve, I doubt anybody would really miss it.

Yay! Happy blogbirthday, me! Anyone for cake?