Inspired by Real Events

Mark Kermode, the BBC 5 Live film critic and 'Culture Show' presenter, is not one to mince his words. He famously described Keira Knightley as 'Ikea Knightley' - a reference to her wooden acting - and so incensed documentary filmmaker Nick Broomfield that he walked off stage during a live interview. (In reference to the biased Kurt & Courtney, he told Broomfield that he didn't think it was fair to accuse a woman with whom he hadn't interviewed for the film that she may have been complicit in the death of the father of her child).

At a talk earlier in the week at the Hyde Park Picture House (a delightful old cinema in Leeds which will be celebrating it's centenary next year), he repeated the old mantra of "if you can't say something to someone's face then you probably shouldn't say it at all." This is clearly a direct criticism of online bloggers (people like me), who make opinions about all kinds of things (again, people like me), and then neglect to include their real names. Unlike me. I agree with Kermode - if you are going to make a bold claim in any form of journalistic capacity, you have to be able to substantiate these claims when they are addressed.

This reminds me of an incident in which I wrote a (rather accurate) diatribe on a new bar in Leeds, which not only charged extortionate rates for a board of cold meats ripped from the shrink wrap of a supermarket packet but had also chosen to deck it's halls with a gross pink and leopard print colour scheme. My criticism was just, and unsurprisingly the manager took umbrage. Of many accusations, the main debate was one of integrity, and alluded to the notion that many critics are too eager to "pick fault rather than present genuine opinions." I have the comments somewhere and when enough time has passed I might put them up here. I treasure it more than my positive feedback, of which I've had surprisingly less. The bar no longer exists, by the way. Probably because - as I may have suggested in my original piece - it was shit.

Kermode told a related anecdote involving Her Majesty Dame Helen Mirren who, at a star-studded awards bash, berated the film critic for his comments regarding The Queen, which he described as "not being a real film" and that it felt more like a TV movie. He's completely right, of course. He makes an articulated argument in the face of clearly irritated royalty, but could unfortunately be seen physically shrinking in her presence. The image is a funny one and proves that although sometimes you must face the victims of your critique, you can't always control your bodily functions when you do.

Unsurprisingly, Kermode followed the talk with an extended cut of his favourite film, The Exorcist, which doesn't appear to lose any sense of immediacy or shock by being an extra ten minutes baggier, although it does include a brief moment of dialogue which director William Friedkin cut in his eagerness to not disturb the perplexities of the film's message. In it, the two priests who conduct the exorcism ask why the devil has chosen to possess a small and innocent girl, thus unravelling the story's main anomaly. "I think the point is to make us despair, to see ourselves as animal and ugly. To make us reject the possibility that God could love us." It's a good line, and you can't help but feel if Friedkin had kept it in it may have saved him an awful lot of bother.

Political Heavyweights

Andrew Rawnsley, an Observer journalist, is staunchly standing by his allegations that Gordon Brown has a particularly volatile side. In his book The End of the Party, he claims that upon hearing the news that confidential data had gone missing, Brown leapt across the room to grab Gavin Kelly, his deputy chief of staff, by the lapels and screamed “They’re out to get me!” In another incident, Brown punches the back of a car seat. In my personal favourite, he hounds a secretary for not typing fast enough. Despite the fact that Rawnsley is vehemently defending his sources, Jacqui Smith is having none of it, although she did admit that Brown can be “glowering” in a Radio 4 interview this morning. On ‘The Andrew Marr Show’, Peter Mandelson agreed that he is “impatient” and “gets angry”, which hardly exonerates his boss, although the Labour camp are proving quick to deny any kind of violent streak.

But I quite like the thought of Brown as some sort of Rutles-esque Ron Decline figure, storming around the office while terrified co-workers leap out of the nearest windows. Brown hardly radiates a sunny disposition, so its not too hard to believe that he’s a very “serious man”, but bounding across a room to rough up his colleagues? If there is one thing that Brown doesn’t do and that’s ‘bounding’. Of course if the polls are true and Brown is exiting Downing Street within the next few months, dare we propose a sideline as part of a WWE tag team alongside John Prescott? After all, we’ve all seen what he’s made of.


I’ve been reading about tigers, who are as equally cute and loveable as they are lethal. There’s something quite comforting about that. Yet they can’t compete with a team of heavily armed poachers, who hunt wild tigers for their value on the black market, where everything from the animal’s bones, skin and penis are sought after by eastern herbalists who believe that the animal can cure many human dysfunctions. The nose is used in treatments for epilepsy, the penis is used in soups as an aphrodisiac, and the meat is even sold to restaurants who specialise in ‘wild’ dishes. Although outlawed by official Chinese medics, you can still find the bones of tigers in Chinese markets, which are ground up and used to treat rheumatism.

WildAid have just secured the marketing rights of Jackie Chan as the face of their new awareness campaign, which is logical given the fact that the Chinese are currently celebrating the Year of the Tiger, although Chan’s philanthropy couldn’t quite save Woolsworths, so lets hope he does better with this one. Especially as I’ve just read an incredibly conflicting story that the Chinese are still considering legalising the trade, hoping to supplement the demand for tiger parts from animals bred in captivity. The 1993 ban has allegedly seen tiger numbers in India (the home of many of the world's last remaining wild tigers) dwindle from 3,000 to 1,500 in only ten years. In China, three species of tigers are already registered as extinct, and the gorgeous South China tiger has not been seen for years. As for the Amur tiger - the ones that can grow up to three metres - recent estimations say that there are probably only about 20 of them left.

Which all makes for quite sobering reading, especially given the somewhat senseless requirement for their killing. But at least China are acting on this, even if their conservation methods may only help to adhere them closer to the global community, as many fear that its probably already too late to conceivably save these incredible creatures. Given the motivation for such decreasing numbers, lets contrast this with China’s appalling human rights record, which still sees journalists imprisoned and the death penalty exacted on somewhat dubious grounds. If only they showed as much compassion for their human citizens.


On Tuesday, I interviewed Paul Daniels, who is preparing for a UK variety tour with (among others) The Krankies, Syd Little (from Little & Large) and Christopher Biggins. He doesn’t much care for David Blaine, the US illusionist who, in an attempt to become a modern day Houdini, has hung upside in New York for 60 days, lived in eight feet of water for seven days, and suspended 30 feet over the Thames in a box for 44 days.

Apart from being a colossal waste of time, I should point out that during his exercise in hanging upside down, Blaine was released every hour for a medical check up, a quick stretch and a trip to the loo. As for living underwater, he was taken out of his submerged state when doctors noticed signs of liver failure and skin abnormalities, while his box stunt in London received the sort of dignified response that you would expect to see from the English: he was pelted with eggs, paint, lemons, sausages, and all manner of missiles. At the end of the 44 day fast, he was subsequently hospitalised - an extraordinary length to go to sell a DVD.

But Blaine’s bombastic approach is completely at odds with the sort of magic that Daniels championed in his heyday: anyone who owned a Paul Daniels Magic Set can attest for that. I had one, and subsequently attempted to master the sort of tricks that would really test the patience of even the most devoted of parents. It was pretty crap, to be honest, and certainly wouldn’t contravene any kind of Magic Circle codes of practice. One of the tricks, I distinctly recall, wasn’t so much a trick but a mere test of perception: by simply wobbling a solid wand at its tip, this creates the illusion of it being flexible. You can do it with a pen and it’s not even mildly impressive. The rest of the kit included double sided coins and a neat knot trick. I spent many hours trying to conquer that one. I’d like to see Blaine release an equivalent: no doubt a set of straightjackets and a cyanide chamber. Get out of that one, kids.

Can't Buy Me Love

OK, so Valentine’s Day is a shameless cash-in fronted by unscrupulous merchandisers to sell guilt to (mostly male) participants who actually believe that they need a day to force them to, you know, do stuff with their partner, other than watch television and empty the dishwasher. But then some people do need reminding, and lets not speak of those separated in faraway locations, like soldiers fighting abroad, who are away from their beloved through the most testing of circumstances. So, happy Valentine’s Day, if you actually hold some weight behind these things. I’ll be spending today updating this blog, so clearly any cynicism, I think you’ll agree, is completely justified.


The news of Lee Alexander McQueen’s suicide reached us just as we had gone to print with our latest fashion-led issue featuring a photo shoot on the designer’s latest spring/summer trends. Our model wears a typically outlandish pair of strappy heels with an eye catching yellow base and a knuckle duster clutch bag, no bigger than a schoolboy‘s pencil case complete with his skull and crossbones motif, which alone fetches somewhere in the region of £850. For menswear, we use stained denim and quirky bowtie Ts. McQueen made bold, statement fashion which always elevated a somewhat standard shoot into something quite intriguing; it’s both unique and stylish, which is a hard thing to master as we’ll no doubt see in the upcoming fashion weeks in both London and New York. He will certainly be missed.

While we’re on the subject of fashion, my hunt for a nice brown brogue has led me, quite accidentally, to a new clothing line from (wait for it) Manchester United defender and new national team captain Rio Ferdinand. He’s launching his own range called ‘Five’ pretty soon. See www.fivebyrioferdinand.com if you don‘t believe me. Its been acquired by the LXY brand and there’s not a fluorescent bib or shin guard in sight. Rio’s sidelining doesn’t end there - his online magazine (called #5) is actually quite brilliant, and certainly one of the better designed multimedia platforms that I’ve seen for a long time. Not bad for someone who appears to have the resounding intellect of a gnat. Go here and enjoy a rather inspiring browse: www.rioferdinand.com.


Clarence Dock in Leeds is “like a ghost town”, according to Conservative councillor Andrew Carter, who I’ve met several times and has always seemed pleasant and genuinely concerned with the future development of the city, even if he did once mistake me for a different journalist at the Yorkshire Post. And with regards to Clarence Dock, he’s bang on the nail. I’ve been to livelier funerals. Even the Starbucks there has had to close, and when the world’s leading franchise of lovely things like hot milk and blueberry cheesecake can’t survive, you know you’re in doldrums.

The dockside development was opened with much fanfare a few years ago by none other than bespectacled chic geek Gok Wan and billed as the new Leeds development which would combine high end leisure facilities with tower blocks of waterside apartments, not to mention a giant casino and a Mumtaz curry house. The development looks fantastic - sleek, modern and perfectly pleasant with a marina and idyllic fishing spots - and I defended it live on the BBC in an interview with Liz Green (http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/p0069p2w/Liz_Green_12_02_2010/).


The problems that many face are its overpriced parking facilities (£5.50 for four hours), which is an issue when people clearly can’t face that extra ten minute walk from the city centre. In regenerating a derelict and forgotten part of the city, the planners could not have done a better job. The turnaround has been quite extraordinary. But the problem has clearly been enticing people to stay there, other than a quick spin on a roulette wheel, a slap up curry and some hot milk.

It will need more than a publicity stunt for it to shrug off its “ghost town” status. Maybe more attractions, landmarks and amenities would help, or something of cultural significance other than expensive clothing.


I must admit to a rather naïve middle class error this week; of turning up to a wine and cheese party without either of the aforementioned items. I stuck to the excuse that I had heard about the event late (which I had) and didn’t have the time to pop to the shops for camembert and Rioja. There was still enough to go round, and found myself discussing some quite severe kitchen horror stories with a chef from Harvey Nichols in Manchester.

The worst I can remember from my formative years as a rather inept if polite waiter was that of a chef (I never saw this myself) who would stand on a steak if it was returned to him from the restaurant for being undercooked. I have never sent anything back for this very reason alone.

But the chef barely flinches at this. He’s heard of much, much worse. I have since wondered whether the most deplorable kitchen stories are indeed just fabrications that have become like grim folk tales, handed down from people who have never actually seen them first hand. I could go into more detail but you might have food nearby. Needless to say it will be hard to imagine seeing a sliced watermelon in quite the same way again.

As for the cheese, I’ll certainly be enjoying more of the deliciously tangy St. Agur with a dollop of homemade cranberry and orange chutney. Ours is produced locally from the Yorkshire village of Knaresborough, although I’m sure you can find it in supermarkets.

On The Road Again

I don’t normally read a novel after I’ve watched the film. The reference points are already established, for starters, so when you’re reading Harry Potter you picture Daniel Radcliffe’s face and Alan Rickman in a wig, and thinking things like “that doesn‘t happen in the film” and other such irrelevances. There’s a reason for this - books are not films, for one, and what works in writing doesn't always work on the screen. Anyone who’s seen the film version of Patrick Süskind’s sensual if sickening Das Parfum can vouch for this - a valid cinematic attempt, but on the whole it stinks.

Having just finished reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, I’m pleased to say that John Hillcoat’s film version is just as unsettling, paranoid and heartbreaking in one of those rare cases where the film version does justice to the book. The story itself is very visual, which helps, but I think Hillcoat has done superbly well in capturing the right tone and mood - of human survival in a post-apocalyptic world and the emotive plight of a father and son. It's a story which resonates and I can't recommend it enough.


The news that footballers have affairs has been met with a baffling amount of gullibility. Have we forgotten the Manchester United Christmas party? It was certainly no game of charades in the boot room, if you recall. In Mark E. Smith’s sublime autobiography Renegade, he recalls meeting George Best for the first time where he had an assortment of dolly birds on each arm.

The married Terry has been rightly dismissed as captain of the national team as the alleged affair was with the ex-girlfriend of a former team mate. Capello has made the right decision because such illicit relations questions not just the player’s integrity but also brings into question his leadership capabilities, especially during a pivitol World Cup year.

Terry has proven to be a bit of an idiot, to say the least, and this instance has made me think of a university colleague of mine (now a sports reporter) who, when following up on the story of two ex-Leeds United footballers involved in a racially motivated off-the-ball incident at a Leeds nightclub, told me that, “football is a simple game that attracts simple people.” The comment has stayed with me, although I should also mention that he is a very keen rugby fan.


In local news, Leeds’ ill-fated Lumiere skyscraper (which was scheduled to be the tallest residential tower in the whole of Europe) might now, alas, not be going ahead after all. The recession-hit building sight is still a gaping eyesore in the centre of town, virtually untouched for two years. I don’t know why the council haven’t agreed to do a similar turnaround like that at the Holbeck Urban Village, where another credit crunched development has been transformed into a landscaped garden, much to the appreciation of those working nearby.

The handling of the Lumiere development is clearly a farce, and given its location right next to the station, in full view of any potential passing trade, lets hope something (or someone) quickly steps in to fill the gap.


My colleague and friend Annie Moss has a wheat intolerance. This isn’t the start of a joke or anything. She is so annoyed at how both restaurants and supermarkets appear slow to highlight her gluten-free needs that she’s started blogging about it. She also has a fantastic appetite for puns. Visit it here: www.musingsofmoss.blogspot.com