How to pour Guinness, eating in LA and that pesky Arizona law.

This is a follow up to the post I put up last time; written in 2010 so the dates and views are from then; I wonder, on this day September 28th 2024, if Los Angeles is the same paradise as Ieft.

Well the medics, Remote Area Medical, have left Los Angeles after treating over 6,000 patients and after a couple of other states they are heading for Haiti – and more power to their elbows.
One or two people have asked me how we manage to eat out so often – well let me tell you it is very cheap to live here and very cheap to eat out. Petrol is about £2 a gallon – in the UK the last time I was there it was that much per 2 litres.
Last night we went out to eat at a French Restaurant at the Farmer's Market and it cost, for two of us, about £25. We both had boef bourguignon and a posh bottle of water so it would have cost more if we'd ordered a bottle of wine, I suppose, but you can see how cheap it is.
On Sunday we had a curry and it cost around £23 but there I had a few pints of Guinness.
The Indian food is not great here but we have found a few places – the Guinness is not that good and it's better to have canned Guinness and pour it properly.
The Guinness I drank on Sunday was from the pub next door to the Curry Palace on Sunset Boulevard where they open the can and dump it into the glass upside down.

If anybody came here straight from Dublin they would kill the bartender for doing that.

It makes the Guinness look like slops and it doesn't settle at all properly.
Guinness won an award for the design of the can and the widget inside to make the Guinness taste and look as close to draft Guinness as possible. The draft Guinness in the pubs here leaves a lot to be desired and to be honest nobody here has ever tasted a real pint of Guinness. They may be used to what they drink, and if they ever visit Dublin or even London they might not like the real stuff – a bit like people who are only used to eating processed food not liking the real stuff.
It's the same with the cheese – it's all processed – and there is no real dairy industry as the milk and cream have to be processed more than I am used to.
The milk – when I was there – in the British Isles is pasteurised and here it is homogenised; in Britain it was possible to save the cream from the top of the milk over many days and churn it into butter; if you tried that with the milk here you would end up with cramp and no butter.
Anyway, apart from the dairy and the Guinness, the food here is great. They haven't quite cracked English food and their version of Irish food with actual lumps in the mashed potatoes would cause another potato famine if it was introduced in Ireland.
I haven't drunk wine for a few years, by the way, which was the best decision I ever made – just whiskey and beer and the beer is usually Guinness. So none of those red wine headaches any more and I also object to drinking beer straight from the bottle so if that's the only choice I don't drink.
The area we live in is very nice; we overlook Runyon Canyon and see plenty of palm trees, humming birds and a lot of greenery.

In this shot you can see the welcome you get when you get to the gate of the canyon which might frighten people who are scared of snakes away but I have been over the canyon hundreds of times and I've only seen two or three snakes. I've seen plenty of other things there though like a woodpecker. I have heard them all my life but here I actually saw one.
There are also loads of butterflies and a morning yoga class just as you walk through the gate.

The other photo is on the way down the canyon and you can just see the roof of our building – right at the part where the canyon disappears; the flat roof.
All the talk here at the moment is about the new immigration law in Arizona where cops will be able to stop people, who they suspect is an illegal immigrant (what they call illegals or illegal aliens) and ask for papers. The chances of them asking me is quite remote so they will have to racially profile people with brown skin – the Latino.
The Latino does a lot of the work here by the way, and the Latina; they sweep the streets, do the gardening and do a lot of the manual work the Americans won't do and if they don't do that you can see them selling oranges on street corners. Of course I have heard that the gangs rip them off for, what can only be called, protection money.
What you don't see the Latino doing is begging; there are lots of beggars here after spare change; they are not called beggars they are called pan handlers – is that the politically correct way I wonder?
Santa Monica, I would say, have the most beggars around here; nearly as many as San Francisco, and you see all races begging except for the Latino. Some people just come up to you in the street with their regular decent clothes on and ask for money. Sometimes it comes as a shock, if they're well dressed, and another place you find beggars is at the traffic lights.
At the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard people are dressed as Jack Sparrow, Superman, Batman (he gets into fights) and other movie characters and they have photos taken with tourists who tip them – so they're begging too; in the richest country in the world.
The Los Angeles police are reluctant to get involved in immigration issues; they don't want undocumented immigrants being too scared to report crimes – I've always equated undocumented immigrants with sperms; the strongest come here and survive.
The Arizona law – which comes into force in a few months – signed April on 23rd by Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, is similar to Reglamento de la Ley General de Poblacion — the General Law on Population enacted in Mexico in April 2000, which mandates that federal, local and municipal police cooperate with federal immigration authorities in that country in the arrests of illegal immigrants.
Under the Mexican law, illegal immigration is a felony, punishable by up to two years in prison. Immigrants who are deported and attempt to re-enter can be imprisoned for 10 years. Visa violators can be sentenced to six-year terms. Mexicans who help illegal immigrants are considered criminals.
This was pointed out to me by someone who supports the Arizona law but I don't agree with any of it; just because someone else does it doesn't mean we have to.
If the border between Mexico and the USA was open or easy to pass through like it is between the UK and the rest of Europe there wouldn't be an influx of Mexicans to the USA; they would come here to work in the richest country in the world and go home at night or weekends or whatever. People don't really want to leave their own country; they want to stay with their friends and extended families; sometimes they want to, like me, but that is another matter.
So what do people really have against immigrants – maybe the way they look?

In a chopper from Cannes to Nice and all the rest.

The Cafe de Paris in Monte Carlo left and a view of the Principality on the right.

As I'm still up to my eyes I thought I would do another repeat and then next time back to normal.
The film was well liked by people and we tried to make it in to a series so I went to Cannes with the distributors and loved the life.

The film - the pilot - is on You Tube now so if you want to look at it here it is: my pal, Jim. saw it and said my hair was always grey - well it wasn't but maybe the ups and downs, in and outs and generally all the meetings with the banks, financiers sent me white - but it was great fun as you will see from the following post which was from 2009.

Here's the movie, by the way, and as they say in America 'enjoy.' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUZXIPAd9Z8

So this is from December 2011:
Well yes it was very nice going from Cannes to Nice in a helicopter but at the time it didn't really feel like a pleasant experience; I went four time to Cannes to try and sell the series: three times I had to catch a chopper from Nice to Cannes and the other time I travelled by train catching it at Cannes and going west to Marseilles before heading north to Calais going through Lyons and Paris.

When I say I had to catch a chopper it was because we were partying so much there that I would have missed my flight from Nice to London if I'd have travelled by coach and the three times I choppered to Nice I travelled with a terrible hangover.

The train journey was good and I travelled on the high speed train at a million miles an hour all that way of about nine hundred miles or so and arrived in Calais smack on time – then after the ferry to Dover the London train was delayed – figures!!

But let's go back to the cutting room in London; one of the partners in the distribution company was an ex editor, and a good one too, and he helped me put the finishing touches to the movie; we tightened up the continuity and made some sense out of it but looking back now it needed a lot more work and when I have the time I'll do it just for the sake of it; we also found that a piece of the cutting copy was missing.

In the film I run up to a door leaving my car door open, only to find that the door I ran up to was locked. I walk back to my car and give the door a kick. This put a dent in the door and as I stood there I suddenly realise that there is a dent and do a kind of subtle double take; the original editor had cut that out – just a little bit of sense needed there as it was very funny! So the first thing me new editor said was 'you've got to find that clip.'

We looked and looked but couldn't find it – it ended up on the floor of some cutting room at one of the film schools; this is why I believe there are comedy editors and drama editors.

On stage an actor times his laugh; he knows exactly when to come in with the next line after a laugh and to be quite frank some editors don't; they just stop the laugh dead in its tracks as the audiences strain to hear the next line.

The next job after the fine cut was the sound edit and I had to find a sound editor – nobody wanted to do it.

I had worked on a film with Giles Llewellyn-Thomas called 'Terence Walker on the Moon' – I saw a bit of a movie on a flight once called 'The Astronaut Farmer' with Billy Bob Thornton which looked very similar; anyway I got in touch with Giles who promised to do the sound editing for me; it's a very shitty job and I was forever grateful.

I don't know how much he knew the new way to serve Guinness but at that time Guinness had introduced draft Guinness in a can; it was almost the same as the draft you bought in the pub and they achieved this – and won the Queen's Award for Industry for it – by putting a widget in the can.

Our afternoons were spent very happily drinking the various cans of Guinness I bought and this seemed to be enough of a payment for Giles – he wasn't a boozer but I might have been on a temporary basis.

We had two deadlines to meet: number one was the dub when we would go into the dubbing theatre and put all the sound affects and music onto the film and the second appointment was with Universal Studios to put the whole film directly onto broadcast-able video tape directly from the negative. This cut out a lot of the printing and colour balances which usually takes a long time. I figured if was supposed to be for TV what would be the point in making any other format than tape.

I had to take the cutting copy and the negative into the neg cutters and I left a bit of space on the cutting copy for the missing piece of film and when we first saw the shot it fitted exactly – and it was funny!

So we met our two deadlines, drank many a pint of Guinness and I rented a theatre in Soho for the first showing.

As none of the actors had been paid I figured I owed them, at least, to try and get casting directors in to see it. Most of the casting directors in London were within a hundred yards or so of the theatre I had booked and as I'd booked it for 1.00 pm I thought I'd stand a chance of getting a few of them in. I bought a load of wine and some finger food – but only one casting director turned up; but why wasn't I surprised?

Most of the actors in the film were new faces and I think I decided there and then to go to Los Angeles at the first opportunity – which I did; but not before I went to Cannes.

There seems to be a festival every month in Cannes; the film festival is world famous but they also have commercial festivals, a music festival but the two I went to were MIP and Mipcom; the former the month before the film festival in the Spring and Mipcom in October sometime.

The first time I went it was to MIP and the distributors paid for my apartment and from then on I paid my own way; they paid a lot of money to have me registered with MIP and Mipcom too.

I thought it was wonderful but most of the people who went there moaned and groaned. I had never worked very hard in factories or down the mines but going to Cannes wasn't like work to me; work to me is hard work that hurts your back.

My hosts – and I don't mention any names on here much – were drunk from morning to night; the lady had a brandy for breakfast the day she took me out to the local market and drank pastise (a kind of Pernod) for the rest of the day; I don't know what the guy drank but he was the same.

I wasn't exactly a teetotaller there but I didn't drink before the evenings.

One time I went to Monte Carlo (above right) and we ate at the famous Café de Paris (which is the picture to the left above); we were suddenly with the jet set eating wonderful food and seeing all those rich people with their amazing French clothes accents and hair styles waiting for the next Formula One Grand Prix to come along and fill their Principality with gasoline fumes.

We couldn't get into the Grand Casino, I'm sorry to say; we were in the building, which seemed to be totally made out of marble, but to get into the casino we needed some kind of ID; two of us had our passports which were acceptable but one of us didn't – there were three of us. He was asked if he had any other form of ID and when he said only his press card we were shown the door so fast it was unbelievable!!

We had to go into a casino next door or so and I won a load of money playing black jack.

There were plenty of parties in Cannes and I went to a party on a boat one night and we were watching a film on a TV monitor with Jools Holland – he was the piano player with the band Squeeze.

Jools was talking in the film and then I heard his voice too – so I turned around and he was standing behind me. I introduced myself and we had a chat and a drink and then it was time for me to go to a bar in one of the hotels; so I said my goodbyes and went.

I heard later that when I went out a few people went to the port hole to look at me walk along the plank back to the quay to see if I was going to fall into the drink; didn't realise I was that drunk.

At the bar in the hotel – I think it was the Carlton – there was a black piano player who knew me and when I walked in he started playing Danny Boy.

I had more drinks in there and the piano player went leaving me sitting on the piano stool.

With the courage and bravado of a drink I played, maybe, eight chords of a boogie which is the extent of my piano playing, and then I stopped; 'Messieur!! Messieur!!' they shouted for me to play but I had to let them down; when I sat back down at the piano Jools Holland sat on the stool next to me “hello Mate” he said and launched into a boogie.

It was absolutely wonderful; the people around the piano went wild, I clapped my hands to the music, like the drunken idiot I must have been, and that was one of the times I had to get a helicopter to Nice.

From that hotel I went to the Casino in Cannes and won enough money to pay for the whole trip – again playing Black Jack; “Why don't I move here?” I thought to myself as I made my way back to my apartment; but I didn't I went to Los Angeles where it is very hard to get a bet on.

I never did sell the idea of the series; it was a well tried formula, a buddy series, but there were others on offer too.

The film itself sold to Finland, some airlines and other places in Scandinavia. It also sold to a cable company in England called British Satellite Broadcasting but before they showed it the company was taken over by Rupert Murdoch's BskyB and they didn't honour the deal.

Oye! Leave my Guinness alone!!

Guinness Poster 1973.

There I am up there many years ago on a Guinness poster; it's been up there before but as this post is primarily about the black stuff I thought it fitting to use it today; that poster was in all the cities and towns of Great Britain and stood about twenty feet high. No matter where I went I couldn't miss it but I was hardly recognised from it. I remember one day standing at a bus stop in front of the poster and nobody blinked a eye lid.

I would hazard a guess and say it was around 1973; I did a Guinness commercial in 1972 – in fact it's on YouTube if you want to search for it – which was set in an antique shop. The idea was that I went into an antique shop with my pal mistaking it for a pub. I suppose it was quite funny, really, and the director asked me if I had any funny business to do whilst leaving the antique shop on the way to the pub next door; I said, “I can bang my head on the bird cage, if you like” and he said “show me” so I did.

Little did I realise that they would be shooting it from all angles and doing multiple takes so I think I must have banged my head on that bird cage about fifty or sixty times. I kind of 'headed it' like heading a football meeting it on the bit where my forehead met my hair line; so it didn't really hurt that much and in any case it was soft metal!!****!!!!

Before I get to my point here is a little excerpt from my last novel:

Dubliners have travelled to other countries and seen how they treat Guinness and sometimes have drunk something else rather than see their beloved black stuff being treated like any other beer. An Irishman walked into a pub in Birmingham, England, and asked for a pint of Guinness, one day, only to see the excuse for a barman put a pint glass under the Guinness tap and press a button; this opened the pipe that dropped a pint of Guinness into a glass; dropped being the operative word as this had as much to do with pouring and caring for a pint of Guinness as throwing a pint of paint at a canvas and calling it art; people have called this art, of course, just as the people from Birmingham used to call that drink a pint of Guinness; they were both wrong.

And here is a lovely looking pint of Guinness:

Guinness: the perfect pint.

I was in Herefordshire over the weekend and when I went to the bar I was delighted to see that they had a Guinness pump so I asked for a pint of Guinness; the barmaid reached into the cupboard behind her and brought out a can of Guinness. It was a strange looking can and seemed to have a silver bottom unlike the regular Guinness can – the one with the widget – which is black at the bottom and signed Arthur Guinness.

She opened the can and started to pour the Guinness in to a pint glass and it looked flat and rather like black treacle. I was stumped for words as I watched this demonstration. I eventually said “What are you doing?”

The barmade just smiled and said “Now I have to put it on here” and she took that flat pint of Guinness and placed it on a small metal plate, under the Guinness tap, and pressed a button.

“This is the surge” she said.

Something was happening to the pint; it was being 'surged' from underneath, somehow, and gas was being put into it and eventually the head formed and a lot of the Guinness went over the side of the glass and all over the floor.

“This is the way we do the Guinness here” she said.

I eventually gave her £3 for the Guinness and took it to my seat; it looked like a Guinness, it felt like and Guinness and you know what? When I took a swig of it it nearly tasted like one – nearly!!

It was explained to me that they didn't sell much Guinness and I told them I wasn't surprised if it was only nearly a pint of Guinness.

I have to say one thing for Los Angeles, if it didn't have a Guinness tap to sell proper draught Guinness pubs and bars would sell the can with the widget. In case you don't know Guinness, in 1991, invented the widget and I believe they won the Queen's Award to Industry because of it. The 'widget' is actually a plastic moulded device that sits at the bottom of a can until it's opened and then releases a little beer and nitrogen, forcing a surge of bubbles that settle to form the tight white head - in short, the perfect pint at home. (source TheDrinkShop.com).

So I wondered why they just didn't have the draught Guinness at the pub and it was explained to me that unless they could sell a barrel of Guinness every 48 hours it wasn't feasible to sell it at all as it goes off.

But as to the surger here is what I found on the Internet:

Always complaining that your pint of the black stuff is never as good as that black nectar you supped in Ireland? Well, celebrate this St. Patrick's Day in true Irish tradition with the Guinness Surger Starterkit.
The Surger Kit is a revolutionary system that uses ultrasonic waves to stimulate the molecules in your pint of stout so your sad can of Guinness is transformed into a cream-brimmed glass of velvet. So, how does it work? Well, refrigerate a can of Guinness for at least three hours. Pour a little water onto the tray at the top of the Surger unit. Next, pour your can of Guinness into a glass at a 45 degree angle. Now, place you glass of freshly-poured Guinness onto the tray of water on the Surger unit. All that’s left is to hit the button on Surger unit. Sit back and witness the miracle of ultrasonic waves. In a matter of minutes, you can enjoy a Guinness just as good as the fresh draught served at The Storehouse in James's Gate.

First my coffee now my Guinness – this is going to get serious!!

Guinness - the pathetic surged pint.

By Chopper from Cannes to Nice; very nice!

Well yes it was very nice going from Cannes to Nice in a helicopter but at the time it didn't really feel like a pleasant experience; I went four time to Cannes to try and sell the series: three times I had to catch a chopper from Nice to Cannes and the other time I travelled by train catching it at Cannes and going west to Marseilles before heading north to Calais going through Lyons and Paris..

When I say I had to catch a chopper it was because we were partying so much there that I would have missed my flight from Nice to London if I'd have travelled by coach and the three times I choppered to Nice I travelled with a terrible hangover.

The train journey was good and I travelled on the high speed train at a million miles an hour all that way of about nine hundred miles or so and arrived in Calais smack on time – then after the ferry to Dover the London train was delayed – figures!!

But let's go back to the cutting room in London; one of the partners in the distribution company was an ex editor, and a good one too, and he helped me put the finishing touches to the movie; we tightened up the continuity and made some sense out of it but looking back now it needed a lot more work and when I have the time I'll do it just for the sake of it; we also found that a piece of the cutting copy was missing.

In the film I run up to a door leaving my car door open, only to find that the door I ran up to was locked. I walk back to my car and give the door a kick. This put a dent in the door and as I stood there I suddenly realise that there is a dent and do a kind of subtle double take; the original editor had cut that out – just a little bit of sense needed there as it was very funny! So the first thing me new editor said was 'you've got to find that clip.'

We looked and looked but couldn't find it – it ended up on the floor of some cutting room at one of the film schools; this is why I believe there are comedy editors and drama editors.

On stage an actor times his laugh; he knows exactly when to come in with the next line after a laugh and to be quite frank some editors don't; they just stop the laugh dead in its tracks as the audiences strain to hear the next line.

The next job after the fine cut was the sound edit and I had to find a sound editor – nobody wanted to do it.

I had worked on a film with Giles Llewellyn-Thomas called 'Terence Walker on the Moon' – I saw a bit of a movie on a flight once called 'The Astronaut Farmer' with Billy Bob Thornton which looked very similar; anyway I got in touch with Giles who promised to do the sound editing for me; it's a very shitty job and I was forever grateful.

I don't know how much he knew the new way to serve Guinness but at that time Guinness had introduced draft Guinness in a can; it was almost the same as the draft you bought in the pub and they achieved this – and won the Queen's Award for Industry for it – by putting a widget in the can.

Our afternoons were spent very happily drinking the various cans of Guinness I bought and this seemed to be enough of a payment for Giles – he wasn't a boozer but I might have been on a temporary basis.

We had two deadlines to meet: number one was the dub when we would go into the dubbing theatre and put all the sound affects and music onto the film and the second appointment was with Universal Studios to put the whole film directly onto broadcast-able video tape directly from the negative. This cut out a lot of the printing and colour balances which usually takes a long time. I figured if was supposed to be for TV what would be the point in making any other format than tape.

I had to take the cutting copy and the negative into the neg cutters and I left a bit of space on the cutting copy for the missing piece of film and when we first saw the shot it fitted exactly – and it was funny!

So we met our two deadlines, drank many a pint of Guinness and I rented a theatre in Soho for the first showing.

As none of the actors had been paid I figured I owed them, at least, to try and get casting directors in to see it. Most of the casting directors in London were within a hundred yards or so of the theatre I had booked and as I'd booked it for 1.00 pm I thought I'd stand a chance of getting a few of them in. I bought a load of wine and some finger food – but only one casting director turned up; but why wasn't I surprised?

Most of the actors in the film were new faces and I think I decided there and then to go to Los Angeles at the first opportunity – which I did; but not before I went to Cannes.

There seems to be a festival every month in Cannes; the film festival is world famous but they also have commercial festivals, a music festival but the two I went to were MIP and Mipcom; the former the month before the film festival in the Spring and Mipcom in October sometime.

The first time I went it was to MIP and the distributors paid for my apartment and from then on I paid my own way; they paid a lot of money to have me registered with MIP and Mipcom too.
I thought it was wonderful but most of the people who went there moaned and groaned. I had never worked very hard in factories or down the mines but going to Cannes wasn't like work to me; work to me is hard work that hurts your back.

My hosts – and I don't mention any names on here much – were drunk from morning to night; the lady had a brandy for breakfast the day she took me out to the local market and drank pastise (a kind of Pernod) for the rest of the day; I don't know what the guy drank but he was the same.

I wasn't exactly a teetotaller there but I didn't drink before the evenings.

One time I went to Monte Carlo (above right) and we ate at the famous Café de Paris (which is the picture to the left above); we were suddenly with the jet set eating wonderful food and seeing all those rich people with their amazing French clothes accents and hair styles waiting for the next Formula One Grand Prix to come along and fill their Principality with gasoline fumes.

We couldn't get into the Grand Casino, I'm sorry to say; we were in the building, which seemed to be totally made out of marble, but to get into the casino we needed some kind of ID; two of us had our passports which were acceptable but one of us didn't – there were three of us. He was asked if he had any other form of ID and when he said only his press card we were shown the door so fast it was unbelievable!!

We had to go into a casino next door or so and I won a load of money playing black jack.

There were plenty of parties in Cannes and I went to a party on a boat one night and we were watching a film on a TV monitor with Jools Holland – he was the piano player with the band Squeeze.

Jools was talking in the film and then I heard his voice too – so I turned around and he was standing behind me. I introduced myself and we had a chart and a drink and then it was time for me to go to a bar in one of the hotels; so I said my goodbyes and went.

I heard later that when I went out a few people went to the port hole to look at me walk along the plank back to the quay to see if I was going to fall into the drink; didn't realise I was that drunk.

At the bar in the hotel – I think it was the Carlton – there was a black piano player who knew me and when I walked in he started playing Danny Boy.

I had more drinks in there and the piano player went leaving me sitting on the piano stool.

With the courage and bravado of a drink I played, maybe, eight chords of a boogie which is the extent of my piano playing, and then I stopped; 'Messieur!! Messieur!!' they shouted for me to play but I had to let them down; when I sat back down at the piano Jools Holland sat on the stool next to me “hello Mate” he said and launched into a boogie.

It was absolutely wonderful; the people around the piano went wild, I clapped my hands to the music, like the drunken idiot I must have been, and that was one of the times I had to get a helicopter to Nice.

From that hotel I went to the Casino in Cannes and won enough money to pay for the whole trip – again playing Black Jack; “Why don't I move here?” I thought to myself as I made my way back to my apartment; but I didn't I went to Los Angeles where it is very hard to get a bet on.

I never did sell the idea of the series; it was a well tried formula, a buddy series, but there were others on offer too.

The film itself sold to Finland, some airlines and other places in Scandinavia. It also sold to a cable company in England called British Satellite Broadcasting but before they showed it the company was taken over by Rupert Murdoch's BskyB and they didn't honour the deal.