Matthew Broderick is a man with a surprisingly unremarkable film career.
We don’t mean he doesn’t make money- we’re sure he’s super-successful if judged by wealth. However, before you continue reading, grab a pad of paper and a pen. If, like us, you get hand-cramp from even writing your own name, then just open up a word document instead.
Now make a list of all the Matthew Broderick films of which you can remember. Done that? Now cross out all the ones that weren’t artistic travesties. Come on, be honest with yourselves. By the way if you didn’t cross out Godzilla it’s probably best if you cease this exercie immediately.
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If you’re under the age of 22 then you will be familiar with the Daily Mail’s nemesis; common sense. Whoops! That should read Skins. If you’re living like the characters in the show, then you’re probably dead and we offer our sincerest sympathies; we died around the same time as Tony who was paralysed by youthful happiness and, you know, a bus.
If you’re lucky enough to be a child now, then we can blame you for the continued success of what is shaping up to be a life affirming/sucking programme.
Either way you will all be suitably disappointed to find out that a new series is going to be cuming (see what we did there?) to E4 on Monday. There are mere days to prepare yourself. Here in the ‘spray bedsit we like to think of Skins as a disease and as you know, with diseases, you must inoculate yourself with small doses to become immune. Based on that logic and no small amount of self-loathing we subjected, or watched, the two ‘webisodes’ on that thing some of you are calling The Internet. It’s a sharp learning curve for us all.
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Omens. Omens are what alarmingly superstitious people look for as they bounce eagerly from bad situation to bad situation. People who believe the old hokum about black cats and ladders invariably lay traps for themselves, only to be surprised when they fall into them, screaming in metaphorical agony. These are the people that don’t make jokes about Friday The 13th because they’re too busy wrapping themselves up in bubble wrap to protect them from the oncoming apocalypse of minor misfortune.
These people need us- the non-believers- to show them how good life can be away from omens, faeries, bad luck and fishwives’ tales. They need us to lampoon and mock the beliefs that they hold as fervently as an evangelical Christian holds onto a fading belief in a benevolent creator. We need to be out there, dancing jigs under ladders, crossing swords with black cats and breaking mirrors over the heads of Arch-Bishops.
We need to show people that you make your own luck and believing in omens and superstition will only lead you to dash yourself against the rocks of life! Unless they’re right of course. In which case, those of you who just threw your mobile phones at a mirror on my command might be in for a bit of a tough time.
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Effortlessness is of course the cornerstone of cool.
That’s why the Chesterfield hanging out of the corner of James Dean’s mouth is better than the Benson being desperately tugged on by the 14 yr old on the corner of your street. It’s why more guitarists want to be Hendrix than Angus Young. It’s why every indie rocker in the late 80s wanted to be J Mascis.
And with that Dinosaur Jr reference we’ll move clumsily and rather obviously onto Yuck, a band who seemingly can’t be described by writers outside of the context of their apparent influences. Which is a pity since Yuck’s crime isn’t sounding derivative, it ‘s sounding authentic.
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When you’re in trouble, don’t call Batman, call Billy Crystal. Especially if you’re in need of a host of the Oscars. In fact, specifically if you’re in need of a last minute host for any awards ceremony.
That’s because Billy Crystal is pretty much unable to do anything other than be a vaguely charming awards presenter these days.
So good thing Eddie Murphy quit the job after some gay slurs made everyone quit the gig, right?
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Have you seen how outrageously great Eddie Murphy was back in his SNL days? Think about those fantastic films he made way back when! Beverley Hills Cop(s), Trading Places, Coming To America, 48hrs… not to mention stand-up films like Raw.
He was untouchable for a while. And then he went rubbish. Really, really dreadful.
In fact, it all started going wrong in the ’90s with dreck like The Nutty Professor, Shrek, Dr Dolittle and anything that enabled him to play all the characters at once. So what went wrong? It seems he stopped drinking, that’s what.
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Prince Harry is a very, very wealthy man. He could probably get people killed if he wanted to. It must be brilliant being him, even with the whole Not Sure Who My Dad Is Now You Mention It thing.
With all those coins, cars and boats at his disposal, it’s not difficult to imagine that Harry can’t move for tail. The ladies invariably throw themselves at him, with dreams of being a real life princess.
However, the press are adamant that Harry should have sex with his sister-in-law, Pippa Middleton. That’s right! The rags are courting these two, pressing their noses up at windows, overlooking a non-existent sex life. It’s astonishing. And now, it seems that Pippa ‘the arse’ Middleton is falling for it, hook line and sinker, playing out the role of nagging girlfriend before they’ve even had chance to buy condoms.
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The Oscars are great aren’t they? Tara Reid likened them to spending a few weeks in the Big Brother house… it really doesn’t get any better than that does it? And now, Eddie Murphy appears to have signed up for the show.
Now, you may be thinking that Eddie’s not done much since (allegedly) groping a drag queen’s bulge and successfully having sex with Mel B with no condom on, but you’d be wrong.
See, as Mel B found out when she had group sex with Murphy (Eddie playing the other six participants, including the token amusing overweight elderly lady), the Beverley Hills Cop has a plan to host and win all the Oscars in 2012.
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