Lord of the Rings fans are some of the most peculiar people you’ll ever meet. hecklerspray was once faced with a nutter who had an exact copy of The Ring on his finger, as well as a backpack, identical to one sported by some hairy toed character from the book. He was sat in a pub and didn’t see anything wrong with dressing up like a pipe smoking tramp from the Shire.
Another fan informed us that they wrote out the first 200 pages of The Hobbit by hand, changing ‘Bilbo’ for their own name.
So it goes without saying that there’s a bunch of strange sorts out there who will be already swooning in anticipation at the prospect of the new Hobbit film… however, it isn’t exactly faithful to the text as Peter Jackson has decided to throw some eye-candy at it in the shape of Cate Blanchett.
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In true Robin Hood spirit, Ridley Scott has taken £237million from various rich people to make a very poor movie.
Robin Hood? More like Rotten Hood.
Rotten acting, rotten script, rotten idea, very rotten accents.
In fact, Robin Hood is so bad, I have to confess I did something in a cinema that I have not done for a very long time. No, not that! Or that! And that’s just sick! No, I am talking about falling asleep. Yep, while Russell Crowe was busy cutting chunks out of British history, I was happily snoring away and was only awoken by some French woman angrily jabbing me in the chest with one of her Gitanes. In fact, I missed about 45 minutes, which, for all I know, could have been the most gripping three-quarters of an hour of cinema ever made.
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Cate Blanchett knows pain – she starred in the last Indiana Jones film, after all, and even watching that was agony.
And she knows danger, too. Yesterday Cate Blanchett appeared in a stage version of A Streetcar Named Desire in Sydney. That in itself is pretty dangerous – asking a group of Australians to follow a narrative that doesn’t feature a comedy transvestite burping out television theme-tunes sounds like a recipe for widespread violence to us – but there was more to come.
Because Cate Blanchett got hit on the head with a radio during the play. And she bled a bit. Danger.
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Cate Blanchett has just given birth to her third baby, and let’s hope there’s not a fourth because she’s clearly already starting to run out of names.
Why? Because, in what appears to be a deliberate attempt to ensure that the child gets beaten up at school, gets passed over for every job it applies for and dies alone and unmarried in several decades’ time, Cate Blanchett has decided to name her new son Ignatius Martin.
Which admittedly isn’t a type of rock at all – we just said that because ‘Ignatius’ sounds a bit like ‘igneous’. But would you have read a story with the headline Cate Blanchett Names New Baby After The Third Bishop Of Antioch And A Student Of The Apostle John Who, Prior To His Martyrdom In Rome, Wrote A Series Of Letters Which Have Been Preserved As An Example Of The Theology Of The Earliest Christians? No. No you effing wouldn’t have.
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