Friday, 4 October 2013

The Wake of the Golden Corpse

Well, it was SUPPOSED to be a wonderful screening, in which there would be a red carpet, screaming fans would clamber for my autograph as I ignored them and walked up to the packed cinema. I would take my seat amongst a round of applause, listening carefully as a tuxedo’d person introduced me, using sycophantic and elaborate language. I would then stride up to the front of the cinema, during yet more applause, and then proceed to introduce film after film with such witty banter that I would incite raucous laughter from the crowd, now hanging on my every word. The last film would be greeted with whoops and cheers and there would be demands of ‘encore!’ but I would be cruel and leave my audience un-sated, where upon they would rush out and purchase my little book or subscribe to my little channel.


That is what was supposed to happen.

Instead the screening was in a ‘converted’ waiting room, that is if you consider painting something green to be a method of conversion, I could see from the outside (through the glass walls of this ‘cinema’) that there was no screen, and no two chairs were facing the same direction. At least I assumed they were chairs from the outside, but upon entering I did eventually notice that people were sitting on old bits of door.

The reason I didn’t notice this straight away is not because I am unobservant or that my eyes have become so fuzzed over that I cannot see through the smog of my own self-satisfaction, it was because as soon as I entered, I was distracted by the giant plexi-glass coffin in the centre of the room.

This is clearly what every pop-up cinema needs: a corpse.

Not just any old corpse neither, it had been spray painted gold, head laid on a laptop and surrounded by old credit cards, bottles of fizz and a mobile phone – if we were really stupid and needed a bit of help then we could read the tag that told us the body had died in September 2008, just to make sure that we got all the subtle hints.

So here I was, ready to show my collection of hilarious comedy films to the world in what I thought would be a cinema and was in fact an avant-garde wake.

All this would have been perfectly acceptable, had there been a cinema screen. Or chairs.

However despite all these obstacles, including half the collected group of dogs and misfits (I am not being crude, there literally were dogs there) leaving before my precious films were actually screened, there was still much jubilation and applause.

Alas my life has come to a point where I can no longer end on a punch line. I must end on a plug. This is a wretched state of affairs, but it is a necessary evil for I must collect minions together in the hope that you will worship my every word. So here is the plug – click this link and look at my films. 

Just do it before I get sick on myself.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome flippen welcome!

Well oony-ver-city all kicked off with a series of increasingly personal welcome meetings.

The first one was held in an amphitheatre where ‘Jenny’s’ welcome video (in which she warned us not to bring a vacuum cleaner – thanks Jenny!) was played on repeat like a dystopian, Orwellian torture device, while children (for this is what they are) filed in looking lost and morose and desperately clutching their gadgets, which are now their only friend in this new and potentially hostile territory.

I now hate and despise Jenny for all her belated advice.

Then there was a thrilling looking smily bunch of oldies with mics and extraordinarily dull job titles such as ‘Pro-Vice-Executive-Director of something or other’ who congratulated us for choosing the university and informed us that the layout was based on an Italian hilltop village, which explains absolutely nothing about how to find our way around the concrete maze of 1960’s acid induced architecture.

Then developments were halted by the appearance of a butterfly. Obviously.

I can honestly say that all the joy I have been filled with over the summer months (yes I have) has completely disappeared and the dark cynicism, which used to fill the space between my pretty little ears, has returned, all within twenty minutes of entering an educational establishment.

YAY! UNI!