Are the Royal Family Lizards?

Did you know the royal family in Great Britain are lizards?
Did you know that the sudden deaths of all those birds being found and all those fish suddenly dying is actually a sign that 'something' is going on?
What about those 'chem trails' we see in the sky all the time? Did you know that some trails left by aircraft are chemical or biological agents deliberately sprayed at high altitudes for a purpose undisclosed to the general public in clandestine programs directed by government officials?
There are people that think all of the above statements are true; I hope you don't.
They think the 9/11 bombings were fixed, that Princess Diana was killed by the Lizards (the royal family); that the Federal Reserve System is designed to transfer wealth from the poor and middle classes of the United States to the international bankers of the New World Order; that Barack Obama wasn't born in America (so is not qualified to be President) and radio talk show host David Emory claimed that the Nazi leader Martin Bormann never died and built a global empire involving, among many others, the Bush family.
And on and on they go – did the Royal Family find out that Princess Diana wasn't a lizard and so did away with her?
Look at this picture of the Royal Family. This is supposed to prove that The Duke of Edinburgh is a lizard because reptiles suffer from uncontrollable flatulence and there he is blowing off???

The picture at the top of the page is part of a portrait of Elizabeth I; on David Icke's web site they report that a mysterious snake has appeared in one of her portraits.

The serpent was depicted being clasped in the Tudor monarch's fingers in the original version of the work - but it was painted over at the last minute and replaced with a more decorative bunch of roses.

Deterioration over time has meant the snake has revealed itself once more, with its outline now visible on the surface.''
So why do people believe in all this stuff? Isn't it some kind of paranoia? Or even schizophrenia?
People who suffer from schizophrenia hear voices – well what voices is David Icke and all the other conspiracy theorists hearing before passing the news on to their acolytes?
I remember a few things about David Icke; I think he was a goalkeeper and was injured and then went on to be a football commentator and general football pundit; then he disappeared.
So believe what you want to believe folks and in the meantime you won't have to bother with the real problems of the world.

The Pilot Season

Here we are on another January morning in Hollywood; Los Angeles, really, but Hollywood when we talk of the film business as that is what the industry is here.

Januarys have usually been around the start of the pilot season when mothers bring their kids here to try and get a job in a TV series; try and get a job in a pilot which they hope would be a TV Series more like.

Most of the pilots the kids would be aiming for would be situation comedies – sitcoms – as there were very few children needed in the cops shows or hospital shows.

Between where I live and the Valley proper, there are apartment buildings which used to temporarily rent apartments to the mothers and their, usually, precocious little brats.

I've worked with few children in my time and most of the time they have been well behaved – not so much their mums – but we had to watch our language and watch when their little kids would do a tap dance on the set.

If the kids were well known they seemed to have a certain confidence – and maybe precociousness – and they would give opinions about things and people would listen to them; this would give me the cue to go to my dressing room. Don't get me wrong, I love kids – I used to go to school with them – but I always hated kids in the cast.

But back to the pilot season; well it doesn't seem to exist any more; they (the royal they whoever they are) make pilots all the year round. They make hundreds of them if not thousands. I have seen many; I saw one about a gay robot butler, one about cavemen and one with Tom Conti playing a drunken grandfather who pals up and takes his grandchildren to night clubs.

These pilots cost a fortune and George Clooney appeared in so many, before he made ER, that he became quite rich. They would pay – and I stand to be corrected – about $40,000 for the pilot not even knowing if the pilot would be picked up.

When you go for an audition for the pilot you get the sides (the pages they will want you to read for the audition) 24 hours before the audition. This is a great SAG (Screen Actors Guild) rule which doesn't happen in the UK which enable the producers to cast the best actors in their projects; they are after talent and not the best readers.

After the audition with the casting director, the casting director recommends a short(er) list to come in the for 'call back'. This may still be a 'pre-read' and if you get through that you will be asked to come and audition for the director or one of the producers.

This can happen numerous times till you get to meet the executive producers, their wives and other hangers on.

Before you meet the executive producers, their wives and other hangers on, and you may be down to half a dozen people for each role for the show, your agent will be called and they will do the deal – there and then before the final audition – and you will be told (maybe after negotiation but I doubt it) what the terms of the contract will be.

You will see the increments over the next few years of the show – how much you will get per show, what the residuals are (which will be standard), how much you get if the show goes into syndication and a lot of other imponderables and terms.

The contract will blind you with figures and will be worth many hundreds of thousands of dollars and sometimes will go into millions. You may be offered maybe $40,000 per episode and projected to shoot 13 or 26 episodes per series and then get an increase in the second season and so on – and you haven't had the final audition yet!!!!

This final audition may go into another call back but eventually a pilot will be shot.

When the pilot is shot the producers will show it to the studio executives who will pick it apart and maybe re-cast some of the roles and they will re-shoot those roles and then when they are finished again they will take it to a market research company and focus groups will gather around Los Angeles and watch them; some if these people will be paid.

They will gather in theatres, offices and small screening rooms; sometimes the executives will watch the audiences through a one way mirror to see how they react and the audiences/focus groups will be made up of a sample of the population – some black, some white, some Latino, blue collar, white collar and all the other ethnic and sexual persuasion that it's a wonder anything comes out of it.

The one group of people that they never want in the group would be actors; in a company town it is very hard to throw a stick any day of the week without hitting an actor; I don't even have any idea how many actors live in this building so sometimes they go 'out of town.'

After this they may re-cast and re-shoot yet again because a character may be disliked or an actor may be disliked or even be the wrong colour or race.

So after all this they eventually have a show; then they show it to some critics and they let us all know which ones are going to be hits; the one they said would be a hit this last season was one called Lone Star.

Every critic loved it and it was going to be a big hit – the hit of the season and everybody who had anything to do with it was delighted and optimistic; it was cancelled after just two episodes.

Here's what Fox said about the cancellation:

While speaking at today’s Fox Winter TCA tour in Pasadena, CA, Fox Entertainment Chairman Peter Rice spoke about why he felt their Fall series LONE STAR failed after only two episodes.

“We made a show we really loved, and thought the creators were very talented and made an excellent show,” says Rice. “ [The critics] believed in the show and liked the show, but not enough people showed up to watch it. We were very disappointed in that. It’s the reality of the business we’re in. It’s intensely competitive and you make the best shows you can. The truth is, it failed to meet the expectations we had. That doesn’t mean we don’t like the show and respect the people who made it. I would much prefer to fail with a show we’re creatively proud of than fail with a show that we’re embarrassed by.”

What is not mentioned above is that it was put on opposite the American version of the BBC Show Dancing with the Stars produced by the BBC over here – now isn't that a dumb decision? It was buried and I have to confess I don't know why they buried it there; so the advertisers who bought space on the opening night were not satisfied with the amount of people who watched the show; by the time the second episode was shown the writing was on the wall and Fox pulled the show.

So after all that work, the auditions, the call backs, the contract talks, the rehearsals and the rest of it the show is history.

These people are professionals and they know what they are doing but there was no way an excellent show could be saved.

Let me put my oar in here and as usual I will say I am not an expert on anything – the advertisers are always looking for a specific age group to aim their advertising at; 18 to about 40 – maybe even younger – and I have to ask why?

People with the most money to spare are the senior members of society and they are usually over 40 and watch mature shows and things like Dancing with the Stars so why don't they aim more shows at them?

I only watch Jeopardy so I'm out of it!!

By the way Skins, the hit TV Show from the UK about teenagers, has just opened on MTV here and already some advertisers who bought time in the first episode have cancelled; one of them General Motors.

A Boys Adventure; It's a good job we got a navy!

Years ago – many years ago when I was a young pup I joined the Army Cadets; when the neighbours saw me in my army uniform they said “It's a good job we got a navy!”

Then I went into the house and what did my dad say? “It's a good job we got a navy!”

But I was 14 years old and when I left school at 15 I know I was 4'9” so you can imagine; I did shoot up to average height but I was never tall and the first thing I thought when I looked in the mirror that day was “It's a good job we got a navy!”

After a couple of years, when he was 14, my brother Pat joined the cadets too and we walked into the barracks at Thorpe Street, Birmingham a few nights a week and at weekends. This is where I learned to fire a rifle and got my marksman's badge and passed the certificate A parts one and two faster than any other cadet in our troop.

I was working at the post office at the time, before going on to the motor bike job, and told my mates at work that I'd passed my Cert A and they were so impressed they forgot about it immediately.

So when my brother joined I would be about 16 or so and we made many friends at the cadets; I eventually became a sergeant and I was the solo drummer in the band and Pat was the tenor drummer. On the big bass drum there was a big kid called Pete Rivers and my big competition on the side drum was my pal Lenny Ferris.

The biggest of us was Pete and he was also 17 years of age and had passed his driving test; in those days – the late 50s – you could buy small cars from the 1930s for a few dollars so Pete bought an old banger for very little money; ten of fifteen dollars and one Sunday we went for a ride.

He called around to our house and my pal Lenny was already there and off we went.

The weather was beautiful as we set off from the inner city conurbation where we lived to explore some of the greener parts of Birmingham.

We headed for the South West part of the city and went out to the suburbs to places like Northfield, The Lickey Hills and Harborne.

Green places for four green pals to explore.

After about an hour of driving and some ice cream at the Lickey Hills we had some kind of blow out in one of the tyres. We were strangers to cars as none of our parents had a vehicle at the time and the bang frightened the life out of us. There we were about 15 miles from home and we broke down – what to do?

Well Pete was a big lad so he set about changing the tyre as he had a spare wheel in the back – but no jack.

For some reason, there seemed to be loads of bricks lying about so the plan was to collect some bricks and put them under the car for Pete to change the wheel; so that's what we did; we looked around for bricks. Pat went one way, I went another and Lenny went another – the mission to bring back as many bricks as we could!

Pete stayed with the car and started to loosen the wheel nuts.

Eventually we came back with bricks – the next thing was to pile the bricks underneath the car till it almost reached high enough so if the car fell it would land on the bricks and that was easy; the trouble was the next move would probably take all of us to lift the car – but Pete was a big lad.

Anyway we all got around the bit where the bricks were piled up and there was a brick put there ready to move into place as soon as we got the car high enough; heave ho and away we go we all shouted but Lenny was messing about and pretended he had his foot under the bricks – then he ran off just as we were about to lift the car up.

When he eventually came back we all lifted and would you believe up it came – but not high enough so I couldn't quite get the brick on to the top of the pile before the car came back down again.

We tried again with more shouts this time and just when we got it to its full height I managed to slip the sucker on to the top of the pile. So the car was there securely on bricks.

Pete did the rest of the unscrewing of the wheel nuts, got the spare wheel ready but we couldn't get it on; the other wheel was flat and the new wheel had air in it which meant we had to lift it again.

We were worn out after lifting the first time and we lay down wondering how we would do it then we realised we had no choice – we had to lift it or walk 15 miles home.

So that's what we did! Pete changed the wheel and we were on our way again.

This time we went to a couple of the parks looking for girls - we had a car why wouldn't they fall for us?

There was a very modern hospital called The Queen Elizabeth Hospital not far which was a long way from anywhere and had its own drive called Queen Elizabeth Drive.

We drove along Queen Elizabeth Drive's leafy highway and then it happened again – Bang!!

Another puncture but this time when Pete looked the tyre was ripped to shreds – now how were we going to get home?

We scratched our heads and had a smoke; we used to love to smoke and maybe that was the reason we joined the Army Cadets in the first place. Our parents didn't know we smoked so we lay in the grass smoking whilst Pete worried about his car.

Then one of us came out with a stupid idea; why don't we fill the tyres with grass?

We laughed and sat back and smoked; then someone said 'well what else can we do?'

And that's what we did; we had the bricks with us and hoisted the car up on them again but with more confidence this time and took the burst tyre off. Then we got the other tyre, the one with the mere puncture and gave as much grass to Pete as we could; Lenny said he wouldn't take part as it would be dangerous so he lit up another cigarette whilst me and Pat collected the grass.

As we collected the grass we noticed we had stopped near some apple trees so we picked an apple – it tasted terrible! It was a green granny Smith cooking apple so we picked loads of apples to take them home to our mums to make cook apple pie.

Eventually Pete had a pile of grass and we stuffed the grass between the wheel and the edge of the tyre – although I can't think how – and when we thought we had enough Pete put the wheel back on.

These were old tyres with inner tubes and that's where we had stuffed the grass.

There the car stood in all its glory and you wouldn't be able to tell which wheel had the grass filled tyre on if you didn't know – well maybe the bits of green grass on the wheel might have given you a clue.

We got in we took off and I sat in the back and to this day I can still see the car going up and down as we travelled with all the apples in the back seat flying all over the place - like apples in a barrel - as we travelled the streets of Birmingham and eventually home.

Gabrielle Giffords, Sarah Palin and Christina Taylor-Green.

The world knows what has happened here in the USA, in the good old boy state of Arizona, with the attempted assassination of Gabrielle Giffords, and the murder of six others, including a nine year old girl who was actually born on September 11^th 2001.

What a tragic little life that little girl lived, her life framing two horrific events in American history which she had no control of but by all accounts she lived a very happy one.

She had just been elected to a student council and wanted to meet Gabrielle Giffords.

Her name was Christina Taylor-Green and she was the granddaughter of an ex-manager of the Phillies Baseball team and the daughter of one of the Dodgers Baseball team's scouts; she was featured in the book Faces of Hope which was about babies born on nine eleven; who would have thought that someone from that book would die in such circumstances but on the other hand who would have thought otherwise with the way the world is going?

There is a lot of talk about Sarah Palin since the shooting and the cross hairs of a gun sight she put on one of her web sights which included the district Gabrielle Giffords looked after.

Giffords herself had previously raised concerns about Palin's map: "The way that she has it depicted has the cross hairs of a gun sight over our district. When people do that, they have got to realize there are consequences to that action."

Not long after that a shot was fired – a pellet gun I think – into Giffords' offices.

The cross hairs were placed over Democratic Congress members who had voted for Obama's healthcare reform; read it yourself above.

Even though I wrote a post, Sarah Palin, The most dangerous women in the world, I'm not saying that Sarah Palin is directly responsible for the shooting but what do you think hateful rhetoric does? It stirs up hatred.

The person who shot her – or should I say allegedly shot her – was a conspiracy theorist; he had crazy ideas about what the government does and how if you have your name written on your birth certificate in block capital letters the government would be after you and . . . do I need to even repeat this verbage?

His favourite books are Mein Kafmpf, The Communist Manifesto and one of the Alice books - through the looking glass or in Wonderland.

He had met Gabrielle Giffords a couple of years ago and had taken a dislike to her; now I wonder why a conspiracy theorist would have anything against a Jewish Congresswoman?

So I'm asking the question again – what do you think hateful rhetoric does and what does it cause people slightly mad and confused to do?

And where do these slightly mad people get their information from?

The answer is the mass media – TV and radio.

I hate to compare one country with another but in Britain it is the law for television and radio companies to be non-partial – if you put one view of anything you have to put the other point of view. It may seem strange but it works.

Of course the law doesn't include the printed word and newspapers there are committed to one of the parties; the Murdoch papers have dictated to their readers who to vote for and the sheep have voted for them each time. He followed Thatcher, Major; then changed parties to follow Tony Blair and last year he changed parties again and went back to his usual Conservative Party with David Cameron.

In America we have cable channels such as Fox News and MSNBC – the first one Republican the latter Democratic; there are others of course but those are the main ones.

Up to 1987 you wouldn't be able to do that in America; there was something called The Fairness Doctrine which was abolished by Ronald Regan in 1987.

There's Gabrielle below - or Gabby as her friends call her; let's wish her well.

a very short French story.

Happy New Year to you on this the date when the rest of the world write it the way America does – 1/1/11.

There have been many many hits and people are looking at this blog all over the world – there is a map of recent hits above.

I say looking at it and I hope most of them have read it but thanks in any case.

After the Christmas break and holiday with all the turkey, mince pies, sausage rolls and Christmas pud we ventured out to one of our check point Charlies – The Farmer's Market of course – and went to the French Restaurant Marcel's for lunch.

We couldn't quite make up our minds about the special or anything else on the menu so we both settled for Coq au van; we've had it a few times before and, I have to say, it's usually very good and a good stand by.

I have never been let down at Marcel's and have eaten loads of things on their menu. It usually has quite a pleasant ambiance with an accordion player wearing a striped shirt and beret (I kid you not) adding to the atmosphere; especially in the evenings as the tables, as with every other place there, are in the open with a canopy over the top.

So the French music, the hub bub of the market with the occasional chiming of The Farmer's Market Clock adds to a very pleasant experience.

As I sat there looking at the menu it reminded me of one of the times I was at Cannes trying to sell my film; I was with an old, dearly departed friend David Capey; he was a fine editor and general film maker.

During various festivals in Cannes the restaurants and bars increase their prices many fold but we knew of a place at the base of the Palais where the workers would go for their food. The menu there, as in Marcel's, was on a chalk board and on one of the days it said frits and something as the special so we settled for that. We hardly spoke any French but we knew that frits meant chips – French fries.

So we settled down at our table with a couple of glasses of red wine.

We would drink complimentary pink Champagne all day and red wine at meals.

The food in front of us looked very strange; I recognised the chips, of course, but what was that with them? It didn't look too good and from what I can remember didn't smell too good either.

It was piled up with onions and when I looked closer at it it reminded me of a body part; not a pretty body part in fact a naughty bit; not too naughty but a naughty bit shared by men and women and not the cheeks in fact the bit in between.

Was I going to eat this thing on my plate; this thing that looked like somebody's arse? I looked at David and he tried a fork full; “not bad” he said.

I tried some and it tasted awful; the worst taste I have ever experienced ever ever ever!!

“We're eating tripe, matey” he said.

Not long after that I took a course in French.

Facebook, Twitter and Dunbar's Number.

I hope you all had a good Christmas; I also hope you had a good Hanukkah and, if it apples to you, you are having a good Kwanzaa – which doesn't end till Saturday.

There we are that saves me saying a happy holiday which has become fashionable and a pain in the arse. The three holidays don't quite coincide like everybody having the same day to celebrate as with Thanksgiving; it's a pity they don't have Thanksgiving in the UK as it's not a religious thing and in a secular country like Britain it seems more fitting – but Christmas there is a mostly a secular holiday in any case so why bother?

It's also quite ironic that a country like Britain, who yearn for the picturesque White Christmas every year, were snowed in before Christmas but the snow disappeared on Christmas Day in most of the country.

I was looking at all the Facebook photos and videos of snow. I know we can see it on the news and other parts of the Internet but seeing it on Facebook kind if made it more personal.

A lot of people criticise Facebook and its kind of control over many people's lives and how they make friends on Facebook whom they never meet.

Well the term friend on Facebook and the saying friending is just what it is – a term. What it really means is that you are a reader; just like a follower or friend of The New York Times or The Guardian.

It's the same with Twitter; this isn't some kind of strange place to go to and find out if your friend has just used their bowels or is taking a cup of coffee – or even both at the same time and from what I've heard people do that!

I use Facebook sometimes as it's very useful to see our children's photos when we are so far apart and I use Twitter.

I use Twitter far more than Facebook as I am interested in the news. I follow The Guardian, CNN, The Huffington Post and various other people from whom I get information.

I also have this blog posted on Twitter and I can see that it pays off with lots of hits; yes I can see, from my STAT Counter where all the hits come from.

I follow Stephen Fry who has a few million followers and Miss Daisy Frost – who also follows me on Twitter and is a friend on Facebook – who is, or purports to be a junior literary agent and is a gal about town in London. I don't expect to meet any of them but I like the quick quips, the news and articles I am drawn to and do you know how long I spend on Twitter? 5 minutes a day.

But Twitter and Facebook – or the idea of them – is nothing new.

News sheets appeared on walls and trees in towns and villages of old; the court would issue circulars for the plebs to read – well now the plebs write their own news. The clever newspapers told us very cleverly what to read and now the people are writing their own news and if it says that the news is they are taking a shit so what? – it's news to their friends and my friends don't tell me that; not yet anyway.

People have maybe hundreds of friends on Facebook and an interesting thing to me is the amount of friends they have.

Movie stars have millions of friends and followers on Facebook and Twitter and the likes of you and me have far less; but those numbers are very interesting.

If you don't know what it is let me introduce you to Dunbar's Number.

Dunbar's number is the number of people that you can, realistically, keep in touch with; any more than this number would need some kind of organising; what would that number be? According to Professor Robin Dunbar, an anthropologist who worked this out, it is between 100 and 230 but a commonly used value is 150.

Also, according to some research, numbers larger than this would need rules or even laws to maintain a stable group.

There are lesser numbers but nobody has given them a name yet but they are easy to work out; I was going to call them Sullivan numbers but won't be so egotistical and in any case I'll give them the names they have always been called later; they would be the numbers for the amount of immediate friends you can easily deal with – shall we say about 10.

These 10 friends would be your best friends – you may even have one of these as a best friend – a BFF as they are called now. Personally I have never had one best friend; always a few best friends.

Then there are your extended friends – shall we say about 20 - 30; these will be the people you may meet or work with most days of the week; people you know well enough to have a chat with if you meet them.

The next figure would be close to Dunbar's number – 120; these could be the people who work at the same place you do – the workplace whatever that may be - and whom you would just say hello to if you met them.

So we have your 10 friends, which we will now call a squad; your 30 friends, which we will call a platoon, and your 120 Dunbar number friends which we will call a company or a troop.

So these magic figures, which have always been with us as squad, platoon and company, are all military words and put together they form a battalion; 2 or more battalions form a regiment and loads of those form a whole army.

So people on Facebook can put themselves in those categories and Mark Whatshisname commands more than an army – he commands a nation.

So instead of the Marxist doctrine of workers of the world unite it's Facebook of the World – who have already united to make Facebook what it is today - a monstrance to it's founder . . . .

Of course – as I have said before 'What do I know?'

Happy New Year!

Happy Christmas.

Not a full post today just Happy Christmas and here is the lyric to my favourite Christmas song Fairytale of New York – not to be confused with the JP Donleavy classic novel A Fairy Tale of New York.

This is by Shane MacGowan of The Pogues and the words were slightly altered here to the ones by Christy Moore in his version – which I prefer.

I love the lyrics to this and it reads just as well without the music. To me the imagery is magic.

Fairytale of New York

It was Christmas eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said son: I won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare old Mountain Dew
I turned my eyes away and thought about you
Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So Happy Christmas
I love you baby
There's gonna be good times
When all our dreams come true.

They got cars big as bars
They got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When I first took your hand on that cold Christmas eve
Hope I told you that Broadway was waiting for me
You were handsome and pretty
Queen of New york city when the band finished playing the crowd howled for more
Sinatra was singing all the crowd they were swinging
Oh we kissed on a corner
Then danced round the floor.

And the boys from the NYPD Choir were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
I took my dreams from me
When I first met you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you
You're a bum you´re a punk
You're an old whore on junk
Lying there on the drip nearly dead in the bed
You scumbag you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas my arse – oh I'd rather be dead.

And the boys from the NYPD Choir were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

And the boys from the New York Police Choir were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

Happy Christmas - Chris x x

Javier Barden and The Golden Globes.

There he is above: Javier Barden.

Reputedly the new Marlon Brando or more likely the one and only Javier Barden – he's Spanish and it's a Spanish name so the 'J' becomes an aitch so it should sound like Havier!!

Whether you think he's the greatest actor since sliced bread, you've never heard of him or you think he sucks he has, apparently, turned in yet another breathtaking performance in his latest movie Biutiful which has been described as heart wrenching.

So you would think that Señor Barden might be nominated for a Golden Globe?

Not a chance!

Johnny Depp has been nominated for two films that he is in; I have nothing against Johnny Depp but one of the films, The Tourist, in which he starred with Angelina Jole took one of the worst panning by major critics than any film in recent memory.

In fact I have heard that when Angelina Jole was told the film had been nominated and so had she as well as Johnny Depp she burst out laughing.

When you see that people or movies have been nominated for a Golden Globe or that they have won a Golden Globe you will know that it means diddly squat.

So what are The Golden Globes? Well they are organised by The Foreign Press who consist of eighty one journalists who live here and write reviews for their newspapers and magazines that are published in their native countries; they nominate and choose the winners – the SAG Awards and The Academy Awards are chosen by many thousands of people who usually work in the business.

Someone was at a party last week and was introduced to a member of The Foreign Press and as soon as this person was introduced The Foreign Press member blurted out 'but I didn't vote for The Tourist!'

Now to say one award is better than another award is accepting that awards are important and not just publicity stunts but I am saying in the scheme of things these latest nominatios make The Golden Globes look like a joke. People here have always treated them like a joke and not to be taken seriously but in nominating Johnny Depp and Angelina Jole The Foreign Press are presuming that they will attend the awards ceremony which goes out live on television here. In fact that's all it is – a television show.

The Golden Globes has a reputation of being the best party in town so that usually guarantees a good attendance.

Ricky Gervais is introducing the show again this year, I believe, and will probably send the whole thing up the way he did last year.

One of the things all the winners have to do when receiving their award is to thank The Foreign Press – give me a break!

Filibuster and this and that.

So what have I been doing? Well lately I've been a bit busy; I helped my pal, who has written a really good script, to organise a table read (read through) for a film we hope to make in the new year.

It's about three fellas, who used to be in a garage band, who kidnap their rock'n'roll idol and I play that idol. Now that is an unusual thing for me as most of the time I am idle!!

The way I helped him was to organise the casting as I knew the secrets to the Black Magic Box – that box being the web site for casting, here in LA, called NowCasting.

So all of you out there – wish us luck!!

My first novel is on Audible.com and I am in the process of narrating my second one.

This is about two girls and I toyed with the idea of using a female to record it for me but eventually decided to do it myself. There were female voices in the first novel so why not do it myself – and in any case I'm cheap.

Of course I am only presuming that Audible will want it as the first novel didn't exactly sell a lot – it sold some and I get royalty cheques every few months – but I am soldering on with it.I record it here in our apartment where I recorded my Irish CDs and other songs and it's ideal.

At the moment I am finishing writing the final draft and today I am as far as chapter twenty seven – in the writing. I had to take the day off recording as I was catching up with myself – what do I mean?

I mean I had only written the final draft up to chapter twenty one up to yesterday and the last recording I got as far as chapter twenty.

It was a bit like being on You Tube watching a big download and watching the progress at the bottom of where you are in your listening catching up with what has been downloaded; well I know what I'm saying!!

When I recorded the last novel I was reading from printed paper in a tiny space so I would make a noise changing pages. At first I tried to do it very quietly but no matter how quiet I tried to be I could hear it on the playback; so in the end I would pause, change the page as noisily as I wanted, then edit that bit out later.

This time I am reading it all from the computer screen and don't have that problem; also I am editing at the end of each chapter. I was hoping to be finished by Christmas but I don't think so.

The next stage will be to master the whole things - making sure all the levels are the same; I don't want some chapters loud and some soft - and it's not as easy as it sounds.

Changing subjects: I wrote a post on here about Julian Assange and the Wiki Leaks last week or so and that seems to be extremely popular. So popular, fact, that it has overwhelmed my stat counter. At the moment that particular post is getting over 600 hits per day.

It means I can't look to see if my brother has looked at the blog from Azerbaijan or that my cousin in Dublin is looking at it or my children in the UK as I have to plow through the 600 odd hits about Julian Assange; maybe just mentioning his name will draw many hits again for this but I'll take that chance.

Now do people in the rest of the world know what a filibuster is? Here's the dictionary definition: A filibuster (also known as talking out a bill) is a type of parliamentary procedure. Specifically, it is a form of obstruction in a legislature or other decision-making body whereby a lone member can elect to delay or entirely prevent a vote on a proposal.

In other words if you don't want a bill to pass through the senate you get up and talk all day till there's no time left for the bill. James Stewart did it in one of his films, Mister Smith Goes To Washington when he talks to stop a bill going through.

I don't know if the filibuster is used in other countries but even the threat of it here is enough to stop bills going through – on the one hand this country has the originality of the stuff that comes out of Silicon Valley and the total stubbornness of the filibuster.

Obama had a filibuster proof majority when he was elected but when Ted Kennedy died his senate seat went to a Republican so Obama lost that majority; and that's why he's in trouble and has had to compromise on everything since; including the tax bill yesterday.

They filibuster because they don't believe in the bill or parts of the bill but let me point something out to you:

The Senate, in the form of the Republicans, stopped the passage of a bill that would provide billions of dollars in health care for sick 9/11 first responders. These were the cops, firemen and the like who went into the Twin Towers first and stayed there for months clearing the way and finding bodies; a lot of them, because of the conditions they were in, suffered many diseases such as Cancer, Mesothelioma and other serious ailments and a Republican Senator got up and blocked that bill.

I urge you to watch the following. It's Jon Stewart; why do we have to have comedy shows pointing these things out to us?

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
9/11 First Responders React to the Senate Filibuster
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> The Daily Show on Facebook

Drama School.

I mentioned in my last post that I was at drama school for three years which prompted a couple of e-mails asking me what we did there; well we had the time of our lives.

It wasn't the most wonderful three years in my life, as it was to some, but it came close; it meant a great deal to one or two people there who went into a depression upon leaving and I think one girl even tried to commit suicide; fortunately she was unsuccessful.

I had been working on the motor bikes at the post office and that was a great part of my life too; we did over a hundred miles a day on those bikes, delivering telegrams, and in the evenings we went out on other motor bikes – what a life!

So when I went to drama school, I had spent nearly nine years working, so I stepped into another world. I had a kind of introduction to what it might have been like by taking evening classes at another drama school but it was still a shock to be going to school every day instead of punching a clock; not that I ever punched a clock at the post office.

First of all, I needed a grant to pay the fees and to keep me, and I was fortunate that my education authority didn't needed academic qualifications – just an audition.

As I had spent the year doing the part time drama course I had become familiar with the process of auditioning; the audition for drama school usually meant performing a piece of Shakespeare, a modern piece and a piece of poetry.

After my audition the Principal said I had passed and then grilled me as to what I was letting myself in for; I actually knew what I was letting myself in for and really looked forward to the 'resting' periods of an actor – in other words being out of work. A thing I have never let worry me; even now.

Next I had to audition for the Education Authority which was more difficult; I had to do the same three pieces but when it came to the modern piece I did a fifteen minute speech by Harold Pinter. The drama man from the education authority wasn't expecting something so long so when I had finished he asked me a lot of questions about it: how I had managed to retain the lines and concentration; then we went into free improvisation and then some improvisation which he had set – and I got the grant; Yippee!!

At drama school we studied speech, which included diction and voice projection; we learned all about our intercostal muscles, our diaphragms and we were taught how to breath. A few wags, of course, would question that last one as we were all alive.

We learned how to sing, sword fight, dance – ballet and tap – we studied theatre history, historical movement, the history of costume, microphone technique, improvisation and a whole load of other things I can't bring to mind; in other words I've forgotten more than I know.

After seven years in the work force, standing in a class taking ballet lessons with people all shapes and sizes seemed unreal; especially when the windows were being cleaned by a mesmerised window cleaner who spent more time than needed on a single pane.

The dancing teacher would tell us all to get on the balls of our feet and everybody had to hold their laughs when she said one day “Come on boys; up on you balls!”

Apart from lessons in the above we performed plays for the public and many more plays for the rest of the college.

It gave us the opportunity to fail and we did many times but we had a lot of fun doing it.

Of course being twenty three I was a lot older than the other new students who were straight from school. They had just finished their A-levels and I'd just finished work, as far as I was concerned.

Being older than the others I was cast in the older roles; it was fun getting made up to play somebody eighty three and getting to know how to use make-up but it wasn't any use to me for a career in the theatre where you very rarely get to use the colour carmine from your make up box to put veins onto your cheeks; they cast people who already have them. The only time I was cast in something near my age was when someone dropped out.

I remember doing a production of Juno and the Paycock – a play I was brought up on – and it was double cast; which meant that two casts alternated performances and I was cast as Captain Boyle. Then they changed the director and he said it would be interesting if I played four different characters; so they left the part of Captain Boyle to be played by one actor and I played the four characters; if you know the play I played the sewing machine man, a coal block vendor, an IRA man and a tailor called Needle Nugent.

The trouble was the audience recognised me and laughed each time I came on – especially at the college performance.

We had a good Joxer Daley and a terrible Joxer Daley – but the whole thing was good.

Drama School is not the only way to go into the theatre; the other way is to get a job at a repertory theatre as an Assistant Stage Manager playing small parts; you have to do loads of work backstage on props etc and play a small part, if there is a small part, and then the next year graduate to bigger roles – if you are lucky.

Some people would have to do ASM and small parts even after leaving drama school and some people at drama school only ever wanted to do that and went on to be company managers.

The other things at drama school to study were teaching and speech therapy and the majority of the students who studied that went on to successful careers in those fields.

I didn't have to do any of the ASM jobs; I did the same as everybody else when I left drama school by writing to every repertory company in the book plus the Television companies and casting directors.

I got more interest from the TV companies so before I even went into the theatre – apart from doing Toad of Toad Hall at Birmingham Rep when I was still at drama school – I did maybe fifty or sixty television episodes, half a dozen commercials and a film.

One of the roles that most of the men wanted to play at drama school was Danny in Emlyn Williams play Night Must Fall and one of the first roles I played in the theatre was that particular role; instead of playing someone older than me I was playing younger for a change.

After I finished that season someone wanted me to play Danny again at their theatre in East Grinstead – no I didn't know where it was either!

I met the director, who was a well known television actor, in a London cafe and we had an hour of chat, coffee and fresh cream cakes, where he told me about his theatre and how great the production would be and how he had enjoyed my performance in the same role.

We shook hands and said we would see each other soon; not long after I found he had given the role to Hywel Bennett; welcome to the theatre??

Increase in Education Fees? Off with their heads!

Hello happy people of Britain who voted Conservative and Liberal Democrat; what did you expect?

Well perhaps not as much as increasing the University and College fees by 300% - that's right isn't it? Tripling the fees.

The Liberal Democrats promised in their manifesto not to increase college fees at all so what are they going to do? They are bound to vote against the government – but will they?

If they vote against the government the Labour Party can call for a Vote of Confidence and if the Conservatives lose that they have to call another General Election; but again I ask – will they?

If the fees for Universities and college are out of reach of the average person, who will go to University? Why the rich of course and then there will be plenty of people to work as shop assistants, burger flippers or in the factories – maybe even in a sweat shop or just on the dole.

Well there are plenty of people who crowded into Parliament Square in London on Thursday who don't want the fees to be raised and they are doing the only thing they can; but I wonder how many of them voted Liberal Democrat?

Because voting Liberal Democrat was as bad as voting for the Conservatives; all you people that tactically voted to keep the Conservatives out will now know that Tactical Voting doesn't work; how do I know? Because there is now a minority government in Britain propped up by Nicholas (Tory Boy) Clegg and the Liberal Democrats. And do I care from this long distance? You bet your life I do!

The only calm bloke in the melee on Thursday was Prince Charles; in the mad panic, when his car was attacked, and some prat shouted “off with their heads” he calmly pushed his wife to the floor and sedately and regally waved at the crowd.

Later he, and his wife, went to the Royal Variety Show and emerged from their Bentley like James Bond and Pussy Galore – good on you Charlie!

Well Stephen Frears certainly got his character wrong in The Queen didn't he; but we all knew that?

It might seem against my politics to be in a favour of a Monarchy but I prefer it to the contrary; yes it probably would have been President Thatcher or President Blair – just like Putin in Russia.

So if you live in the UK and have young children it is your time to fight against the increases in Education fees.

I went to College full time for three years and all the fees were paid for by the Education Department and I was also given a generous grant to live on – I know that was then and this is now but if you voted for either the Conservatives or Liberal Democrats and wasn't expecting this maybe you shouldn't have voted at all.

Are your memories so short that you can't remember Thatcher and the Poll Tax and the smashing of the Unions?

But maybe it is good that the right wing, and by implication, the upper classes are showing themselves and showing their true colours; if I was in such a minority I would want to keep it as quiet as possible in case it's more than one prat who wants my head.

Julian Assange, WikiLeaks and other BS.

Well there we are; Julian Assange is in custody and the world is safe. Amazon.com, Paypal and Visa have stopped doing business with his company, Wikileaks – who have nothing to do with Wikipedia by the way – so they won't be able to make any money any more.

Now let's get this straight: WikiLeaks have been leaking secret information – not TOP secret - so what is the difference between what Julian Assange and what his WikiLeaks web site is doing and what Scooter Libby did and even what Bob Woodward writes?

Secret not TOP secret, don't forget.

But Julian Assange isn't in gaol because of the WikiLeaks cables he's there because of a sex charge. Now isn't that well timed?

Why is it that when some people become nuisances they are suddenly arrested on some sex charge or are involved in a scandal?

Charles Dilke was a right honourable gentleman during Victorian times in England; a right honourable gentleman because he was a cabinet minister in the Liberal Government of Gladstone – a radical Liberal, by the way and he supported laws giving the municipal franchise to women, legalising labour unions, improving working conditions and limiting working hours, as well as being one of the earliest campaigners for universal schooling – that last little bit I got from Wikipedia – nothing to do with WikiLeaks.

He was brought down by a sex scandal.

Charles Stewart Parnell almost achieved home for Ireland but just when he had an Irish Parliament in the palm of his hand (his words) he was brought down by the Kitty O'Shea scandal.

Look these people up on Wiki – not Leaks but pedia.

There are people who will question Wikipedia, by the way; but they shouldn't!

I don't know whether Julian Assange is guilty of what he is being charged with but isn't it coincidental that he is being charged for it now?

Julian Assange (I love to say that name) is an Australian; Australians are usually people who don't stand for bullshit; they, like the Americans, are the nemesis of England. They are fellow members of the New World and react strangely to the English.

The Americans and Australians like the Irish – who the English don't like generally – but when Australians went to England they asked “when the English are by themselves do they speak normal?”

As an Australian how can the USA ask the British to extradite him to America? Isn't espionage something you do when you are in that country and not what Julian Assange is doing from abroad?

In Britain, before the Internet, people would kind of disappear; people like Assange, and Daniel Ellsberg would have some kind of accident or end up in a mental hospital.

These days with the Internet they get shot in the face!!

When he was a radical thorn in the side of the British and South African Governments Peter Hain was arrested for and eventually tried for bank robbery. He was trying to stop the South African cricket and rugby teams from touring Britain because of their apartheid policies and was set up. He was eventually found not guilty.

By the way he became a cabinet minister in the British Labour Government but a couple of years ago he resigned – some kind of financial scandal!!

But going back to these WikiLeaks cables: isn't this given governments the chance to send false cables in the future to let the public know what they (the governments) want them to know?

I bet the governments are laughing.

Qatar?? Cutter Katarrr!!!

It seems Russia have won the rights to stage the World Cup in 2018 (I should live so long) and Qatar in 2022 – although the Americans pronounce it as Cutter!! It's Katarrr – my brother, who lived there for a few years, just told me.

The programme I was listening to on the radio went to their correspondent in Moscow to ask if people were celebrating in the streets and was told it was zero degrees there and people were indoors; just as they are in the UK.

I hear the whole of the UK and Ireland has been hit by many inches of snow and people there are freezing too so I want to put word in for the poor people of California who are cold.

Yes you wouldn't believe it would you? Here in Los Angeles people are huddled around their tiny heaters as the temperature has been down to the lower fifties and forties; in the day time it has been up to the seventies but at night time it's cold.

How cold is it in Europe? About thirty degrees but I have to repeat – it's been cold here and the big problem here is that we hardly have any heating. It's great in the bathroom with the heater in there but what about the rest of the flat?

I have noticed some people have actually had to start wearing socks here; I saw someone yesterday with some on. It was a bit awkward for him to walk as his flip flops were the ones that go through the toes and they kept coming off; every time they did this he would stumble and once or twice he spilled some of his latte down his shorts.

It's supposed to rain on Sunday and we are getting ready for that – I think it's due some time in the afternoon and maybe up to a quarter of an inch. I think some people are cancelling their picnic plans.

At the moment the sun is out and there isn't a cloud in the sky but I don't let that fool me.

I saw the photos of the conquest of Everest and the sun was out there too – but look how cold it was! So before I go out I will put some suitable clothing on; I think I have a jacket somewhere and maybe some long trousers; I'm not sure but I will brave the weather later on – don't worry about me I'm quite hardy.