HonkWatch #087: Prime Suspect 4 (E2)

Alcoholic Tory crook Paul Endicott (James Laurenson) has a crafty breakfast chunder, only to be caught by his lover’s daughter, Polly (Kelly Reilly), in Prime Suspect 4.

Pigeon out

Saw this poor fellow on Brunswick Street on Sunday, pretty much as flat as you could get.

One Homer who’s not going to get back to Springfield for Thanksgiving.

A stone’s throw away, somewhere on Stokes Croft…

On Saturday the LLF and I went for a drink with her brother, who is newly pitched up in Bristol. After a false start at the Analphoney (“Bit… Pretentious here, isn’t it?”), we moved on to the Land Of The Trout for a more relaxed few rounds (interrupted only by the arrival and departure of a grazing herd of Blues Brothers stags), before heading home.

On the way we stopped off for a few cans of carry-out at The Best, possibly the least appropriately-named store on Stokes Croft. Still, it is open twenty-four hours a day, so who cares if it’s staffed exclusively by obnoxious oafs.

Whilst paying (and BTW, six quid for four Stripes? Are you having a – I believe the word is – bubble?!), the next customer in the queue, a rather handsome chap in his late twenties, well groomed and expensively dressed, turned round to us and with nary a hint of shame, embarrassment or restraint, asked us:

Do you know anywhere around here where I can buy some crack? I really fancy doing a bit of crack.

Well, that’s a question one doesn’t often hear around the streets of BS2. Perhaps he was a stranger in town, here for a business conference with no time to research the local retail landscape.

The LLF looked at him thoughtfully, smiling, before replying:

Aww, why do you want to do that? You look too nice to do crack!*

Leading him to retort (obviously, now that I think of it)…

It’s a fucking good buzz!

And moreish, too.

* Now CONFIRMED as her Very Own Words Spoken Through Her Self Same Beautiful Lips.

Framed Documents #007: Peep Show (S3E5)

Jurors dating defendants isn’t wrong, it’s just illegal (like drink driving), decides Jeremy in Peep Show when he starts seeing affable thief Carla (Tracy Whitwell) outside of court hours.

Did the judge WIG OUT? X

Gettin’ High #003: Groundhog Day

After getting trapped in the same day for months on end, grizzled weatherman Phil Connors (Bill Murray) decides to reset his life through death by making a great leap off a tall building in Groundhog Day.

From Here To Shiternity #011: The Island

Engineer James McCord (Steve Buscemi) enjoys a little quiet me time in Michael Bay’s script-stealing Logan’s Run-meets-Soylent Green paragon of mediocrity The Island.

HonkWatch #086: Transsiberian

Christian missionary Jessie (Emily Mortimer) loses her lunch after realising that the backpackers she and her husband have met on the train are not harmless young lovers in the so-so Transsiberian.

Piss & Vinegar #033: Prime Suspect 5

Ooh-a-bit-scary drug lord The Street (Steven Mackintosh) does a wee in the cells in Prime Suspect 5.

The joy of Sex Bangla

Despite only having – very briefly – mentioned a blog called Sex Bangla a mere three weeks ago, for some reason daily traffic to the BunKRS has pretty much doubled thanks to Bangla sex-seeking surfers.

Nearly 500 visitors got here via the WordPress tag for Sex Bangla; more than 200 via various combinations of the search engine terms ’sex’ and ‘Bangla’. My short mention of the subject is the second most popular post for October on this blog, and the fifth most popular of all time

Perhaps there’s a shortage of Bangla banging on the net, because at the moment it seems like everyone looking for it is coming via here, and I feel more than a little embarrassed that I don’t have any to share.

Oh, you poor Banglapornophiles, may your grotsearches prove eventually fruitful.

PS What sort of perverts come here in the vain hope of finding Anna Mendelson poetry?

Piss & Vinegar #032: The Year London Blew Up

Full-bladdered IRA bomber Eddie Butler (Edward MacLiam) improvises in the corner of Chez Matthews during the 1975 Siege of Balcombe Street in the rather well produced part drama/part documentary The Year London Blew Up.

Incoming! #003: I Spit On Your Taste

I notice that I’ve been getting a fair bit of traffic from my friend Nigel (formerly Herman of the giallicious Bloody Italiana blog) and his new, not-just-Italian film site, I Spit On Your Taste.

Whereas Bloody Italiana was firmly focused on Italian horror movies, ISOYT looks at a broader range of transgressive, trashy and tasteless film, and launched earlier this month with a comprehensive number of articles appraising Nazi exploitation classic Ilsa, She Wolf Of The SS,and has a nice interactive feel, with lots of back-and-forth in the comments.

Well, I say classic, but TBH I still haven’t done my homework and watched it myself yet.

But I will, Nigel! I promise I will!

St. Paul’s: the drama, the tragedy…

It is dark. A dark autumn night. Traffic has stilled, peace is punctuated only by the occasional firework.

Then in the distance, from out of the darkness, a low, rasping, “incredibly grating voice” is heard, inaudible at first, then creeping closer, closer, until it is almost in the room.

…It just really pisses me off that she thinks she can get away with that, ‘Ooh, I’m so ‘ard, because my name’s Lizzy Bennett’, and you know what? It’s just bullying!

A voice like this, words like these, their owner and their author must be found; a swift look out of the roadside window reveals our justice-seeking poet of the night, in becoming espadrilles and denim pedal pushers, clutching at a crumpled two litre green plastic bottle, its paper label torn off, a male companion (embarrassed? in agreement? sympathy?) in turn clutching at her arm.

They dance in spirals across the road, and sink into Portland Square, the white heat of her voice tempered only as distance leads them off as swiftly as it led them in, leaving nothing more than a vapour trail of incandescent indignation; her pride pricked by another’s prejudice.

(Oblique tip o’ the titfer: Gina Vivinetto)

From Here To Shiternity # 010: Trainspotting

Proportionally speaking, there appears to be a cinematic shortage of shit, hence stretching out a single scene from Trainspotting.

Here’s Spud (Ewen Bremner) having a tug-of-war with Gail’s mum (Annie Louise Ross) over some fæcal sheets.

Young, Gifted & Slack #002: Jake Wood

I’ve been away for a looong weekend again, so I have a backlog of pointless posts to make.

My offline life’s complications seem to have become less kinetic, so at the moment I am enjoying things settling down into a rich sediment of happiness: before the month’s end my LLF should be firmly ensconced in the BunKRS

*Touches wood*

With this in mind, here’s me poking at that backlog of pointless posts with a bent-out-of-shape coathanger of synchronicity:

• The LLF has somehow got me hooked back on EastEnders;
• There is a copperheaded character in it called Max Branning;
• Lurking on my hard drive was a screengrab from media-invents-war satire Scoop of a gingernut-topped child flogging newspapers;
• That child (obviously) is – was – forever will be – Jake Wood, who is – was – for the forseeable future at least, will continue to be – the aforementioned Max Branning.

And so the circle is squared, etc.

TBH I thought he was a lot more ubiquitous than his IMDb entry suggests. Perhaps he just has one of those faces. A stunt redhead.

Happy Harpers Ferry Raid Day!

You know, the 1859 John Brown shenanigans.