The Stuart Awards 2011

The biggest and least exciting annual awards ceremony is here. Welcome, to The Stuart Awards 2011. For the fourth year running now, I give out awards for the best and worse things to happen in the world for that year. The recipient of each award has been through lots of consultation, in which I had the one and only say in who gets the award. As you may be aware, the award is only imaginary, and generally the recipient of each award is completely ignorant to the fact that they have won it. So, let us commence with the first category:

Music

Most Annoying Song Of The Year: Most will probably disagree with this first winner, as most claim it to be a beautiful piece of music in which any person can 'emotionally connect' with. Horse Manure! Adele - Someone Like You, has won this award. In part, because it has been massively overplayed and overrated, but it is mostly because it is just drivel. The only way I would be likely to enjoy this piece of music, is if it were sung by a choir of dogs being castrated while having cats dangled in front of them.

Disappointing Song Of The Year: Maroon 5 - Moves Like Jagger is surprisingly awarded this. Now, let me just clarify: I love Maroon 5, and they are my favourite band. I really liked this song to start. However, now it has been over played, I feel has failed to stand the test time within just 6 months. To me, they have a lot of making up to do…

Song Of The Year: Again, rather surprisingly, Coldplay - Paradise win this award. It has just been caught on my mind since I first heard it. I'm not the greatest Coldplay fan, but it just seems a brilliant piece of music to me. I love the build-up to the song, and I love the burst of 'Para… Para… Paradise'. How great it is.

Song Of A Few Years Ago Which I Began To Like This Year: He is gay and was a competitor on American Idol: Adam Lambert - Fever. This was a song I found in a long twisted way which I will not divulge into, but all I say is find him singing it live on YouTube (so long as you're not homophobic). It's very good. Also, I would actually recommend his album too.

Album Of The Year: He's an Englishman living in France, and he had produced one of the happiest and cheerful albums I have possibly ever heard, with every song being catchier than the common cold: Julian Perretta - Stitch Me Up. Technically, it was released last year, but I can't help if I found it this year. It is a brilliant album which I actually do recommend to everyone. It has what I call a 'messy beat', but that adds to its charm, and I just love it.

Most Disappointing Album Of The Year: This honour goes to an album which I didn't buy or download, and I didn't even manage to force myself to listen to all the songs on YouTube. Arctic Monkeys - Suck It And See was liked by a lot of people, but to me it 'Sucked'. They are a band which have slipped into irrelevance and are sinking into a sea of rubbish 'cool' bands. I shall just stick to listening to Favourite Worst Nightmare. They will never top that one again…

Film & TV

Most Irritating And Largely Unnoticed Revival Of The Year: Big Brother on Channel 5. Last year, it won Best TV Moment Of The Year for the fact it had actually ended. This year, I have with no regret, taken the award away from them. It came back to life on another channel, and was on for almost the entire year. However, it seems that no-one really took any notice as I heard very little about it after the few weeks.

Worst Film Remake Of The Year: Wuthering Heights. Simple. I wrote a blog bemoaning how they forgot huge chunks and how it was filmed by art students trying to make some inadvertent point through soft focus and moths. It was just terrible, and the audience at the cinema seemed to agree.

Second Worst Film Remake Of The Year: The runner up to the previous award was almost as bad, and I felt deserving of the award too. The Witches Of Oz was made in the US and released over here on DVD. My girlfriend, being a fan of musicals, brought it, and we watched it; all 167 minutes of it. Basically, Dorothy, through some hurricane-time-travel crap, is living in modern day New York with no memory of the event, but with the help of rubbish acting and dated CGI technology, the worlds collide. Then through some terrible writing and awful acting, you'll regret ever watching it.

Drama Of The Year: Black Mirror. Sceptics might say this is because I am a Charlie Brooker obsessive, but it isn't. That may be why I originally watched it, but all three stories were heart-wrenching, at the same as being disturbing in this alternate, technology revolved universe. Amazing pieces of writing.

Film Of The Year: You may notice a pattern over the few years of these awards, but I am a very large kid. Johnny English: Reborn is very worthy of this tribute. It is just everything I want in a film: It's silly. It's funny. It's serious. It's fast. It's clever. It's a spoof. It has Rowan Atkinson.

US Import Of The Year: The Big Bang Theory, which won a similar award back in 2008. It has the potential to be the next Friends, and I just laugh at every episode with it being clever, original and silly all at the same time. Sure, it has the same formula as all American Sitcoms, but it is just so very funny. It even has a catchphrase: BAZINGA!

Comedy Of The Year: Up until a week or so ago, this award was going to Outnumbered, which would have been its third Stuart Award. However, The Bleak Old Shop Of Stuff, which was on BBC 2 in the build-up to Christmas, had so many perfect comedy performances, from the experienced to the young, that it had me constantly laughing for the entire hour. It was rather remarkable.

Comedy Disgrace Of The Year: Mrs Brown's Boys. If you tell me it's funny, I will personally bang you over the head with a tin serving plate until blood pours from your eyes and see if you are still pissing yourself at how funny it is, with it being done over and over and over and over and over again.

Series Of The Year: I cannot leave Doctor Who out of my awards, so I have made one especially for it to win. The whole series was gripping with its storyline, and it was jammed pack with mystery and intrigue, as well as the usual Doctor Who tomfoolery. As much as I have a chip on my shoulder about Steven Moffat, I have to admit he is great at writing a brilliant story.

Celebrity

Celebrity Death Of The Year: This goes to Amy Winehouse, purely just because I found it how remarkably unapologetic the whole of Twitter was when it was revealed that she did not die as a result of drink nor drugs, after the weeks of shameless judging they threw on her coffin instead of roses.

Original Band Publicity Of The Year: I am quite intrigued by how McFly have achieved this over the past few months, with two of them winning two separate Celebrity shows: I'm A Celebrity… and Strictly Come Dancing. They didn't need to do those shows, but they did, and they won. It's made them rather popular I believe.

'How The Hell Are The Famous' Of The Year: It is hard to choose just one winner for this award, so every single person who has appeared on a 'Fake Documentary' on E4, ITV 2 and MTV win this award. I fail to see how anyone can be a fan of someone who has appeared on The Only Way Is Essex.

Journalism

Scandal Of The Year: Yeah, need I even tell you? Yes, it's the News of the World Phone Hacking scandal. It could be widened to almost all newspapers now, but nothing seems to have quite topped the fact that within a week of the news being released, News of the World were publishing their last ever newspaper.

Phone Hacking Revelation Of The Year: Millie Dowler. The dreadful business of NotW listening to distraught messages of her friends and family trying to get into contact with her is just rather upsetting. But hey, take solace in the fact that they weren't the ones to actually delete the messages…

Revenge Of The Year: This goes to Hugh Grant, in which he 'hacked' a Journalist, Paul McMullan, who revealed all the journalism misdoings, in revenge for the same journalist 'hacking' a conversation they had. Read it, it is quite interesting.

Article Of The Year: Well, it has to go to The Daily Mail's Liz Jones for writing a disturbing article in which she talks about how she stole sperm from her husband in a desperate bid to have a baby: 'The craving for a baby that drives women to the ultimate deception: Liz Jones makes her most shocking confession yet'. Read it, it's just disturbing...

Politics

Political Death Of The Year: Well, I have no idea who to award this too. It could go to one of three 'political enemies': Osama Bin Laden, Gaddafi or Kim Jong-il. All have their reasons for being deserving of this award. In fact, they can share. Their dead anyway… And if I hear one more joke about Team America existing, I will kill that person who utters it.

Useless Currency Of The Year: The Euro. This year, it became more unpopular than Jedward, and just like Jedward, if you see the Euro currency arrive on your doorstep, you'll want to douse it in petrol and flick a lighted match at it.

Uprising Of The Year: The Arab Springs. It went pretty well; as such. The problem is that people got killed amongst it. Terrible business.

General

Over Reaction Of The Year: The uproar following Jeremy Clarkson appearing on The One Show was just disastrous, and utterly pointless with it just being an excuse for the public sector unions to complain that no-one cares about their pensions. Well, you know what: You're right. We pretty much don't.

Royal Wedding Of The Year: The one people cared about. You see there were two royal weddings this year, and basically, people only cared about the Kate/William wedding. Bless that posh lady who married a rugby player…

Pointless Use Of 24 Hours News Of The Year: The London Riots. Almost every news channel became too paranoid to set foot outside, so made general assumptions for over 100 hours about the whole event from their studios, based purely on people calling in and what was being said on Twitter.

Twitterer Of The Year: This goes to, for another year, a comedian and not someone who actually adds anything much positive to the World of Twitter. This year, the comedian being flattered is in a relationship with Sarah Millican. It's Gary Delaney (@GaryDelaney) and he spews outs lots of awful, one line jokes.

Girlfriend Of The Year: Mine! N’awwww, ain’t I adorable…

And there you have it; the end of the blogging award ceremony in which 30 awards were handed out in my mind, and then written down so you can also join me in imagining the event in your minds. Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Maybe by next year, for The Stuart Awards 2012, I would have struck a deal with Ricky Gervais to present the ceremony… Come on Gervais, I will offer you no money: None at all!

The Wily Mr Murdoch's

The end of 2011 is approaching, and this year's Formula 1 seasons has come to a close, after a great year of motor sporting action, with some brilliant races which will be remembered for years, and records which will take many years to eventually be broken. In the United Kingdom, we have been able to watch all this on the BBC, which has provided a great deal of in-depth analysis which has informed and, more importantly, entertained. I'm sure the next season will produce the same great quality sport. However, no longer will the BBC be showing the footage of sport in the same way they have for the past two years. And why? Sky!

Sky have come along and pounced on the healthy chicken, and dragging it back to their den with their teeth firmly gripping hold of the neck, just like a fox might. They are stealing the entire healthy crop that every other channel has. Another example of it happening this year is Glee.

Channel Four took the chance and aired the first two series. No-one knew whether or not it would transfer well to a British audience. Channel Four hand-reared this little foreign chick, until it became a hit, with a large fan base of people who listen to the terrible music. Then, just when it was at its healthiest, Sky came leaping in with their multi-millions, and ran off with the high-pitched chicken shrieking out a Britney hit.

That is what Sky does; they let other channels take the risk with a new show, and then when it becomes popular, they take it and add to their collection of hits. The sneaky bastards.

Now, I have no real issue with Sky taking Glee. In fact, they have done me a favour. My girlfriend watched it in the days when Channel 4 had it, but due to us not having Sky, and me never being likely to have it, she can no longer watch it, meaning I am saved from having to listen to crap actors sing crap songs with crap voices. However, I DO have an issue with them spearheading Formula 1 away from the BBC.

I have never really had a passion for a sport before, but I do have an enormous desire to wake up at 5:30am on a Sunday morning to sit in bed for four hours to watch the race, as well as all the coverage before and after the race. It is an experience which, in the two years the BBC has had it, has made it a real personable show. It is a show which you feel a part of. It is an experience which is better than actually being at the race. At the race, you can't go and listen to every race driver talk profoundly in a friendly manner about their emotions at winning a race.

The F1 Forum, which always followed the race on the Red Button, gave this us, the audience; the chance to see a sportsman express human emotion up close, which was something to have not been done before. The BBC also go and interview people at the races, such as mechanics who has take a break from rushing to get the car ready for the race, to talk to nosey film crew. The presenting team go and mingle with the public, especially at the British Grand Prix, and then you also get interviews with celebrities such as Sir Paul McCartney and Rowan Atkinson.

And now, because of Sky (although not entirely their fault; we can also blame the Government for not raising the TV License, meaning the BBC had no extra money to afford both BBC 4 and the F1. I mean, why could they not sacrifice BBC 3 instead?), that coverage has been sacrificed. The BBC still have coverage, but it is very limited. From 2012, they will only be showing half of the races live, with the others being limited to just two hours of highlights.  And Sky? They're creating a whole channel, because they have money to piss away on everything.

Sky has also stolen a considerable amount of the BBC presenting team. So, not only have Sky stolen another program which a channel has worked hard on to make a success, but they have also stolen their talent. Why? Because they're greedy, but they're also lazy. Essentially, they take the credit for the hard work done by other people.

In case you were not aware, News Corporation own part of Sky, with their bid to take complete control being blocked earlier this year after the News of the World scandal.

Not a great year for the Murdoch's overall. But then, hey, feel no sympathy for them. I mean, they APPARENTLY never read emails to them which informed them of the illegal methods that their journalists used to get stories. If that's true, they're incompetent idiots. If it's false, then they're bastard liars who will go to any mean who protect their sun-warped faces. Neither option is great, but I think we can all agree that the latter is probably the true option.

P.S. Think about it: Are Sky going to produce clips such as these?

Light-Hearted Offence

The world is filled with morons, and should have a thousand nuclear bombs dropped on it, whilst lions and enraged monkeys rip the faces and limbs from every person who has ever uttered 'erm' in a sentence. In fact, every member of planet Earth should be taken and shot in front of our God for being the stupid, brain-dead twerps that they are. Full stop.

Are you offended by those comments? You should be. I just wrote something offense about a group of people which is nasty, vindictive and inciting hatred. Come on, sue me. Take me to court. Issue a statement saying that I should have all freedom of speech removed from my soul because I use it in a way in which you disagree with.

That is, in fact, an exaggeration; I purely just think that 'the world is filled with morons'. The rest is optional really. So, do you want to know why I am 100% sure that almost every member of human kind is a brain-dead, moronic twerp? Well, let me show you the Oxford Dictionary's 2009 definition of the word 'Comedy':

1 a film, play, or other intended to make people laugh. 2: a light-hearted play in which the characters find happiness after experiencing difficult situations.Synonyms: humour, fun, hilarity, funny side, laughs, jokes.

I could go into many more dictionary definitions, such as humour, amusing, humorist, funny, etc. Either way, it is generally considered that comedy is not to be taken as truth; as the person's actual honest opinion, however offensive it may be.

There have been many comic moments which have had the context of humour removed to make something seem simply shockingly offensive. One example is the Ross/Brand Sachsgate fiasco, in which they phoned up Manuel from Fawlty Towers to inform him that his granddaughter was a bit of a slut. Although he didn't find the funny side, Manuel was not too offended and shrugged it off. However, the 27,000 other people who were in no way involved, were somehow offended, and complained to everyone.

Most stuff which Frankie Boyle says has the comedy element removed and is taken as a blind insult, either at the Queen's vagina, Katie Price's disabled son or Kerry Katona. Personally, I don't find much that he says funny; but that is my OPINION, and therefore NOT FACT. Due to that, I know that those comments, put into context, were meant to be, in some twisted sense, comedy. As I result, I brushed them off, and forget about it without an ounce of offence consuming me.

I do seem to be one of the few people that seems able to distinguish between what is MY OPINION and what is considered to be FACT. Jeremy Clarkson's latest comments have been juggled around the Internet, television, newspapers and radio, as part of journalism reporting the offense which has ensued. Jeremy Clarkson stated on The One Show (BBC 1), that striking public sector workers should be "executed in front of their families". Not the nicest of things to say, I grant you, but it is glaringly obvious that he was presenting a very exaggerated view, which was more than likely for the purposes of trying to be funny.

Yes, Jeremy Clarkson is in trouble again for telling another bad joke.

Where ever the news has been reported, the comments have had all context removed from it. You can view the transcript of his comments here, on The Guardian website, and judge for yourselves. In the first 24 hours, barely 5,000 people had heard the comments and complained, and a majority of that was purely because a 15 second video of him saying those comments, with everything said before and after removed, was passed around the Internet. The BBC removed that particular episode of The One Show from iPlayer, so people could not watch it, and therefore the morons had no way of understanding the context.

Three days after the comments were made, the number of complaints had risen to over 21,000; only 6000 short of the amount received for Sachsgate. Now, maybe I'm being blind sighted, but surely if you've been SO offended by a comment, it wouldn't take you three days to complain. Therefore, I suspect that, just like Sachsgate, a majority of the people 'offended' by the comments, never actually saw the show live, and have, in fact been offended by BBC News repeating, and Twitter spreading, the 15 second clip. Surely, that is just as meaningful as me complaining about the treatment of disabled children in the 19th Century; a hundred years before I was born. If you were not offended at the time, and only after you have been told that something IS offensive, then the complaint should be answered by a gurgling, snot-nosed 6 month old who is sat with the phone in his mouth, for that is the amount attention and respect their complain deserves.

Similarly, Life's Too Short is coming under similar scrutiny, with it apparently being offensive to dwarfs, and therefore people are convinced that Ricky Gervais hates people who have dwarfism just like all other disabilities (people forget that it was co-written with Stephen Merchant). In fact, there is a campaign under way to get Life's Too Short taken off the telly. There was a whole interview with the campaign leader a few weeks back in The Guardian's 'g2' pullout. She has a young son with the disorder. I felt sorry for her until I realised that she too, is a moron.

'Substitute the word "dwarf" with that of another minority or disability' Kirstina Gray says, 'and the BBC would probably find itself in court'.

Why is it that every individual of this planet seems put upon by the comments of another human being? I personally don't think the BBC would find itself in court as it is comedy, and if it is offending, then get over it; it's not intentional (unless the comedian is Frankie Boyle, then chances are, he was purposefully trying to offend). In the 'Mockumentary', Warwick Davies plays himself as being a selfish prick. It's acting. The comedy is in no way pointing fun at his size, just merely using it to enhance the humour. The story line is based around that, just like there are films based around 40-year-old virgins.

If people from minorities or with disabilities, want to be treated as equals to the rest of the populace, then they have to be able to be subject to comedy, because that is what happens in most walks of life when everyone is equal. People make fun of others, and vice versa. I'm sure there are a majority of people in these 'categories' that can have fun; be subject to 'banter', and not get offended, but there are is a small selection of people, who are either so highly strung they could bungee jump, or are not properly informed, and think they should be offended. Those people ruin comedy, and life, for the rest of us. I refuse to live a world where people believe in political correctness.

As for Ricky Gervais using the word 'mong', and using it in its traditional sense before it became an insult for people with disabilities; it's no different to me saying 'I'm gay because I've finished my Uni essays'… It doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with another man in celebration.

And as for Jeremy Clarkson's other comment about people who commit suicide in front of trains being selfish; well it just so happens I have long held that same opinion. They cause disruption to hundreds of people, and there is usually a team of people that have to clean that person up, as well as the sadness that person causes the people they leave behind. A sad, tortured soul or not, it's still a pretty selfish act to commit… IN MY OPINION.

Also, just to redistribute a quote from Stephen Fry back in 2005:

'It's now very common to hear people say, "I'm rather offended by that", as if that gives them certain rights. It's no more than a whine. It has no meaning, it has no purpose, it has no reason to be respected as a phrase. "I'm offended by that." Well, so fucking what?'

And if you're offended by what I've said, either participate in a healthy, educated, well-written debate with me, or complain.

Wuthering Heights: Filmed in a Shed

So, do you know the story of Wuthering Heights? Good. Now, imagine what that classic novel would like if it were actually filmed in a shed. Now, imagine it being acted by chavs who swear and have a common, English accent. Right, now imagine that some art students were filming and directing it, with lots of soft focus and irritatingly pointless shots and angles which are apparently symbolic. Imagined it? Looks awful doesn't it. It looks like the sort of film that Film4 and the British Film Industry might fund, doesn't it. Well, now you don't have to imagine that, you can go to your local cinema and pay to see it. Yes, PAY to see it.

There are lots of things wrong with this movie, but the one that has been most vocalised in the media is the fact that Heathcliff is black. Yes, Heathcliff is black. Maybe this is part of the modern view, which says that we are now 'colour-blind'. We no longer recognise skin colour. Maybe. And anyway, the skin colour of Heathcliff is never known. In defence of the movie, it does say in the first chapter of the novel that Heathcliff is 'a dark-skinned gypsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman…' But, in defence of sensibility, people can be dark skinned Caucasians, AND why would women wearing petticoats, from the 19th century, lust after an Afro-Caribbean?

Inclusion of racist language in the movie, mainly from Hindley saying "He's not my brother, he's a nigger" just made me put my hands up to my face and want to cry. Emily Brontë. The story, just like all other adaptations of Wuthering Heights, was badly conveyed. Some parts were changed, other parts were added, some parts completely forgotten and even, most surprisingly, the odd part of the story was told similarly to the novel. As it is with every adaption of the novel, the character of Lockwood is written out and the role of Nelly is nothing but a supporting character, rather than taking the role of narrator that she has for a majority of the novel. The Linton's are not blonde. Wuthering Heights is nothing but an old, rotting shack in the middle of Yorkshire. The moors of the novel have been replaced with large hills which surround the landscape. No children, other than Hareton appear to have been born. We see Hareton get conceived in a wet field; an image we are saved from in the novel. The characters are all inappropriate aged. In fact, I could continue to ramble on.

The love affair between Heathcliff and Catherine has also been adapted. The rocky nature of the relationship is rather accurate, with her hating him at first, and then them being inseparable and protective. Then the appearance of Edgar comes between them. Heathcliff goes and comes back and finds Catherine married. The problem is that their relationship is depicted as being even weirder than before. The main example being that Catherine licks the bloodied wounds from Heathcliff's back. I have no idea why. The relationship between them does seem to resemble owner/faithful dog, rather than confused children who experience love. The whole time, you just spend laughing at the ridiculousness of this adaption, or wondering what the hell Arnold is trying to convey.

The directing is terrible. The camera work is dreadful. Someone is riding a horse, but instead of doing a panning shot that follows the horse, or a long-shot which allows you to follow the horse across the screen, they opted for a close up of the horses mane, or a close up of the person's hair. It is as if the camera operators discovered they could do Macro Photography, so just took advantage of it. Every few minutes, there was a close up of a moth in a window, or the intrinsic detail of a feather: all pointless to the telling of the story. I have always been told that 'less is more' and not to put stuff in 'just to fill time'. If you want to see how to fill time in an A-class style, watch this film. Five minutes of this film is watching birds fly.

I have a theory too, that the creators of this film are hell-bent of making people blind in the process of watching this film, which is a lovely way to treat people who have already paid £6 a ticket to watch this atrocity. Picture the scene: You're watching Heathcliff sitting in a dark, barely-lit room at night. You're struggling to see, so the pupils in your eyes are fully dilated to allow as much light in as possible. Then BOOM. It feels like someone has fired a shotgun into your eyes. The scene has cut to one with bright and intense white light, which illuminates the entire room. Too much light is entering your eyes and you feel as if you have turned stiff; you feel dead.

Talking of dead, there is an abundance of dead animals. You see Heathcliff slaughter a sheep with the blood pouring out; for which I had to cover my girlfriend’s eyes to protect her loveliness. Then, later on in the movie, we see Heathcliff standing over a trapped rabbit, who he then kills by breaking the neck; for which my girlfriend covered my eyes to protect me from shouting out “You bastard!” I don’t know why they kept showing these scenes, but I made sure to sit through to the end to make sure that no animals were hurt in the process. They hadn’t been thankfully.

I remember a few years ago, ITV made a two-part adaption of the novel. It wasn't great. I, my friends, my classmates and teacher all complained about how inaccurate it was. ‘Dreadful’ we said. We were all in awe at how they had ruined the classic we had spent a year studying. However, in comparison, the ITV adaption should have been heralded as a great piece of television. This is compared to the film however, which makes somewhat of a mockery out of the novel. The best thing about the ITV adaption was that it didn't cost me to see it, and the acting was far better. Arnold essentially raped the Emily Brontë novel.

This opinion doesn't come down to the fact that Heathcliff was black; that was one of the least problematic parts of the film. It is part of a wider problem which is the film, in which no character seemed to be vaguely accurate, and the story backetballed into a bin. The problem with all the adaptations so far, is that they remove the rather unique narrative to the story and forget Lockwood and Nelly. I think the most successful adaption will include them. I accept that an adaptation, unless it was going to be a ten-part TV series, will not include the entire story, but it should keep the style which every reader loves about Wuthering Heights. When someone makes that, I think that will be the day when a proper adaptation will have been made, and they will rake in the praise.

This film received no praise. I remember sitting through the last two Harry Potter films at the cinema, in which at the end of the film, the audience whooped and cheered in praise of a brilliantly made film. At the end of watching Wuthering Heights, all I heard was people saying how awful it was and how they did not enjoy it at all.

Mind you, I should have known how terrible the film was going to be when I saw the trailer on the Internet. The most pointless minute of film, in which absolutely nothing is shown. It should have been a clue that this film was being filmed by college art students…

An Hour In The Life Of Me

You’re probably wondering why I think anyone would care about an uneventful hour of my life two weeks ago. You’re probably right; no-one does. That doesn’t stop me though. The following words are a stream of consciousness: Stuff my brain ordered my fingers to type with any direct input from me, as part of an assignment for the ‘Creative Writing’ side of my University degree. Make sense? No. Oh. Well essentially I sat outside my University accommodation for an hour, and wrote down what I saw, heard, smelt and felt. Anyway, I found it quite interesting to type, and it is relatively humorous, so I thought I would share it with you good people. I hope you do enjoy it.

“I’m sat on a bench, with my shower fresh hair, underneath the forever watching CCTV camera. I decided seeing as I was outside, in public, with people, with my laptop, I would sit somewhere that I would consider safe. Well, not safe, but at least should someone walk past and casually steal my laptop from underneath my finger tips, I would at least have more chance if catching the bastard. Should I drop the laptop and begin crying, the people watching the CCTV images would at least get a laugh too.

I’m sat in intense sunlight, with half my keyboard shadowed by the screen, as a result of having the sun increasing in height behind it. This has now shown to me how dusty and dirty my laptop actually is. It is terrible, and should my Mum see the state of it, she would moan and immediately fetch a cloth and some cleaning liquid to achieve the task of cleanliness. I am hopeful that seeing as there is a rather strong breeze, the dust will be blown away. Maybe this little assignment will help in my cleanliness…

So, as I sit back on the uncomfortable bench, and look over the laptop screen, I can see water, glistening, and full of movement as it flows in the direction of sea. On the other side of this water, I can see a runway, in which a plane is noisily manoeuvring itself on. Now pausing, the engines are increasing in speed and volume as I imagine the pilot asking for permission to fly. He clearly has it, as the sounds are increasing. The plane is taking a run up, forever increasing in speed, and as it moves away, the sound goes with it. And UP it goes, rather confidentially too. The plane is now en route to its destination, and all I can see now as I glance back up to the sky after my running commentary is a faint white shape which I imagine to be the plane.

Now it is quiet again, I can return to admiring the natural beauty of the water as the sun makes my black laptop rather hot and also making my jean laden legs becoming increasingly hotter. I spoke of silence too soon, as behind me I can hear the screeching brakes of a train and the far away sounds of another plane about to manoeuvre itself to the end of the runway so that it too can make a confident leap into the sky to get to a destination far away from the rudeness of London. The said plane is a CityJet, with its propellers spinning. Again he positions himself. Again he speeds up, and again he speeds off into the distance taking the loud sounds with it.

However, here comes a plane falling from the sky in the nervous, wobbly fashion they seem to always do. It shakes upon near contact with the runway. He puts his nose up and bum down. He has landed bum first with a little puff of smoke from the wheels as it lands. Now he chucks his nose down and as he now exists the runway to a designated area, here comes another plane; and he seems just as nervous as he flies in front of the sun and casts a shadow over me, if only for a split second, and he lands.  Now, all I can smell as the wind blows into my direction, is burning rubber and aeroplane fuel. Not exactly the smell of flowers and noise of birds singing that I get back at home in a lovely Kentish village.

Now it is quite again. The water looks filled with crystals. It is almost like God, if he existed, had dropped a pot of glitter onto the water. It hurts to look up, not only into the sun, but also into the pool of intense light that is sitting on the water in front of me. Birds are flying too. A seagull is floating in the sky, pointlessly and effortlessly, thanks to the help of the wind. I think he is lazy. Other seagulls sit on the water, and look at him, either in awe of their floating friend, or bitching about how lazy that other seagull is. It is hard to tell from the wooden bench I am perched on, which one it is.

There are other birds here too, but seeing as I am not Twitcher, I cannot reveal their names. I can only really, safely, tell the names of five types of bird: Seagulls, Pigeons, Ducks, Swans and Robbins. The other birds in front of me in the water are not one of those five. I would make a guess at it being some type of goose. There are few, baby ones sitting on the water and bobbing up and then down again, before bobbing up and down again, repeatedly. An adult, (what I am calling a) goose, is standing proudly on the edge of a bank and is constantly ruffling his feathers; I think he must have an itch which is bugging him.

I can see a reflection of myself in the laptop screen, and I can tell that my hair is almost dry from the sun and the wind. However, this may not be the style that I intended on. I look like a child who has just discovered the power of electricity and the importance of not putting metal objects into turned on plug sockets. It looks positively static…

I keep just looking at the water, and thinking. I am thinking many deep things which I will not divulge into, but I am also thinking about the water that I am starring into. Some waves look like they are part of some rolling mountains, which stretch as far as the eye can see, in miniature. Other waves are bigger, and I think they look slightly reminiscent of circus tents. I doubt anyone would agree with that observation however, and that is why I took it out twice, before becoming adamant that I was going to keep it in, no matter what.

I have just spotted the moon, well, half a moon. It is nearly eleven in the morning, and the moon is out. This phenomenon always intrigues me, and as I think about it, I feel sorry for Australia. It is night there, and they haven’t got a moon. We have it instead. The sounds ‘ha ha’ go through my mind now, actually.

People keep walking past me, with their haircuts and bags and purpose. Look, that boy is wearing a pink top. It so doesn’t go with those jeans! The people that walk past often stare at me, sat on a bench, alone, and typing. They probably think I am sat here writing some essay, but what they don’t realise is that the thousand or so words I have typed, are in fact just drivel.

I am looking out into the distance now, and I can see buildings. Old buildings, but not old enough to warrant paying £10 to walk about and look at the furniture and portraits. They are just old tower blocks that were built after the war. They look rather lovely, with the sun lighting one half, the shade covering another half, another plane flying in front of them and the soundtrack of sirens ringing around. London: It seems to be the only place where sirens try and harmonise with each other.

I am now just looking around, letting my brain wonder off, and there are now clouds in a sky which 10 minutes ago was absent of any. I would love to be able to tell you what types of clouds they are. If only I had brought the book I saw in WHSmiths yesterday! Instead, you’ll have to make do with my amateur, and cliché description of them being white and fluffy. It creates such a lovely and peaceful image in your head. However, in reality, I’m in East London, looking out onto an airport, with workmen drilling and trains clattering and screeching behind me. A million miles away from the peaceful lifestyle I once lived not two months ago. Well, in reality, it’s only 52 miles away.

My bum is beginning to hurt, so I shall end it here, with the clouds relieving me from the sun, if only for a few seconds, after an observation that I have just had whilst looking in the direction of Canary Wharf: Doesn’t the Millennium Dome just look like a dollop of ice cream with several biscuit wafers stuck in around the edge?”

James Bond With Added Funny Gas

It was a few weeks ago now, but I have seen Johnny English Reborn. This is the second Johnny English, with the first coming out in 2003 when I was just eleven years old. Since then, it has been my second favourite movie franchise, with the first being Toy Story. I know, in just three sentences I have made myself sound rather childish. That's showing and not telling y'know!

I love Rowan Atkinson. I love him for almost every role I have seen him play in sitcoms and films, as well as for his 80's satirical humour in 'Not The Nine O'Clock News' and his stand-up material (performing sketches on stage essentially). He is, in my opinion, the greatest comedian. Therefore, I was always going to be biased to thinking that Johnny English Reborn is the greatest movie I have seen in some time.

The cinema I went to was a fancy new cinema complex with more screens than Comet, all showing different movies. It was a Vue cinema, this one situated in Stratford (because that’s what the Olympics needs). I haven't actually been to a Vue cinema before, but the chairs where more reminiscent of sofas than they were flimsy fold-down chairs; and that was in the standard, working class section. The screen was so large that you have to turn your head to be able to look from one side of the screen to another, and the air conditioning was so powerful that you could keep an Igloo in there for as long as you liked. The experience itself was the most pleasant one I have had in a cinema; apart from the large queue for snacks, the price of the snacks and the fact that there were other people in the cinema.

Anyway, first of all, don't go to see the movie to expect a movie similar to the first one. It is on a much larger scale, with a more believable and serious storyline which has tragedy, as well as moments of ecstatic, Atkinson-esque, pleasure. Think of it as more of a James Bond movie, with funny gas being pumped into the cinema. It is on that sort of large scale. It has a story line which could easily be adapted for a serious spy movie.

We join English in Tibet, learning Martial Arts after becoming a disgraced spy some years prior after a failed mission in Mozambique. MI7 need him back for a mission to foil a plot to kill the Chinese Premier. Along with his new sidekick, Tucker, he goes to Hong Kong to find people affiliated with a project named 'Vortex'. Humour ensues countless times, which involve a yacht chase, a game of golf and helicopter flying. MI7 then try to assassinate him, before a hilarious conclusion which involves Atkinson wearing lipstick, dancing to Word Up by Korn ("Wave your hands in the air like you don’t care"), some groin kicks, some wrestling with self, and having a fight scene in a cable car; all of which demonstrations the brilliance of his physical comedy. The movie then ends after English has attacked the Queen.

A very short synopsis there, but a lot more comedy ensues. I haven't laughed that much at a film for as long as I can remember; and I had watched the first Johnny English movie the evening prior to seeing Reborn. It certainly held up to my expectations and then superseded them.

The film also includes a greater cast, included Gillian Anderson (of X-Files fame), who was great for the role of Head of MI7, and Dominic West (of The Wire fame), who was great at playing the 'unexpected' villain of the film. Atkinson's acting was great too, and it is sometimes hard to believe that this is the man from Mr Bean and Blackadder. Also, remembering he is now 56, it is great to see him still able to perform such brilliant physical comedy, with his trademark high kicks and performing many stunts himself, such as driving a jet-powered Wheelchair through the streets of London.

I would recommend the film to anyone with the smallest of funny bones. I reckon it could make almost everyone at least snigger on numerous occasions. The film isn't a silly, half-term film which is meant for just children, but it is instead a film which the whole family could enjoy; I'm sure of it. Its adult story line makes sure of that. The comedy too will appeal to anyone. It is an all-round movie. I urge you to see it; even if you wait for it to come out on DVD. Films transfer onto DVD so quickly these days. It's not as if you'll have to wait long.

I don't know how else to put across how much I enjoyed this film. I do not understand why critics have been so harsh to this film. I think it's brilliant. Much better than any of your pouncey Twilight rubbish that you watch. I mean The Inbetweeners movie? If you 'claim to like comedy' that much, then you should see this. It's adult and childish at the same time, without any needless, apparently funny, swearing.

If you do go and see it at the cinema, do make sure you sit through the credits and wait patiently. You will not regret it. Out of a packed cinema, only 7 people remained at the end to watch one of the funniest Rowan Atkinson skits I have seen. It involves him, preparing a casserole, in sync to a piece of classical music (Edvard Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King - a piece of music everyone will recognise when they hear it). It is brilliant, and I'm saying that as a devoted fan of his visual antics, and think of it as a perfect example of what Atkinson can achieve, with just simple, everyday items. I was in awe of that final performance, as well as giggling like I would have when I was eleven years old.

Ashamed To Be Human

I have concluded I don't suit the human race. I think I would be much more comfortable at being part of another species on planet Earth, such as a rabbit or a tortoise. They always seem quite happy and contented and unbothered by what is happening in the news. A rabbit’s hutch will be lined with newspaper, but being a rabbit I wouldn't be able to read the text nor really be able to understand the context of the pictures. And even if I could understand it, I'd either eat or poo on the offending article. It's easy as a rabbit. I can even wiggle my nose and ears like a rabbit. Maybe I was meant to be a rabbit? Or if you believe in reincarnation, maybe I was once a rabbit. I wish I had a simple life like a rabbit, where I couldn't get offended.

Why am I considering the rabbit’s life? Well, the news the past two days has completely depressed, revolted and ashamed me. I am part of a species that murders. I know it's hardly a news flash: “Human Race Murder”. I'm thinking more about a specific murder carried out yesterday; a murder of a bad man. A terrible man. A man most would agree didn't deserve to live in the first place. However, what has bothered me more is not the murder itself, but the aftermath. His death has been glorified, and that is what I have a problem with.

Almost every newspaper carried a picture, on the front page, of Colonel Gadaffi. His lifeless face, covered with blood and a bullet hole in his head, is a picture which can be seen everywhere today. The Mirror had the worst, most disgusting picture and The Sun had a headline, which seemed to be full of pride at his death: "That's For Lockerbie", with the sub-heading "And for Yvonne Fletcher. And IRA Semtex Bomb victims." That headline is typical of The Sun, and its approach to anything done by, or as a result of, our Army. They are often blinded by a sense of pride. Morality doesn't come into their field of approach to news stories like this.

I hate myself for having to put his picture in my blog, but I just wanted to share the front cover. You can hate me and call me hypocritical if you like...

It comes to something when the human race uses technology to spread footage of a man being tortured and killed, all done within minutes of the event happening. Within an hour of hearing about the capture and possible death of Gadaffi, I was seeing pictures on the BBC Website, and video footage on their news channel, of his dead, bloodied and beaten body. The BBC defended it, by stating that they used the video to convey the scale of the "dramatic and gruesome" events. This is the same for every international news outlet in the country. To me, that is just seems wrong. It seems inhuman to put the face of a dead man everywhere; we wouldn't even treat an animal in that way.

Of course, we have to appreciate that as a nation, we are cynical enough to take the opinion that we won't believe something until we have seen it, and studied it for ourselves. Seeing as we can't all fly to Libya and poke the body ourselves; video footage is the next best thing. Saying to news outlets that they cannot show the pictures in their papers, and websites and news channels would be censorship, and I am against censorship. I just believe that we don't need to see these pictures over and over and over and over again. He isn't a very attractive man in the first place, let alone dead, bruised and bloodied. Why couldn't it just be confined to the Internet and after the watershed on TV? It seems wrong to have this man, who has essentially been 'happy slapped', in this state, as a picture to symbolise Thursday 20th October 2011.

To take an extreme view; we wouldn't do this to a victim. If Gadaffi had captured, then beaten and killed an innocent person in public and filmed it and uploaded the video to the Internet, the media would handle the whole event with moral decency. The same was done with Osama Bin Laden in May. We had a blurry, inconspicuous picture of a body said to be him, which was plastered everywhere. It seems revolting to do this, time after time. WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!

It seems the newspapers have become the medieval equivalent to putting heads of bad people, on spikes for others to treat as they will. It dehumanised them. Now, the papers print the picture of a lifeless head on the front page instead.

There is also the argument of whether he should have been killed in the first place, and even the circumstances of the death are hazy. We have a video of Gadaffi in a bad way, being dragged through the streets of his home town, after been beaten up and having blood pouring off of his face. Then the next video we have is of him lying dead with a small bullet hole. Apparently it was cross fire. However, chances are, it was an emotional person, who probably knew some victims of Gadaffi's regime, and then, consumed with hate, put a gun to his head and blew his brains out (metaphorically).

However, now he is dead, people will never know the truth. People will never know his darkest secrets (which is possibly a relief for Western countries, who were heavily affiliated with him). He can never be tried in court, and can never be punished in the humanly correct way. Many questions will remain unanswered. How can a 'new Libya' claim to be any better than Gadaffi, when they begin like this? But then again, his trial was expected to have taken 10 year. It could be said to have been a waste of money and time. I know I will still disagree with his death, and especially how our media have dealt with it.

If God existed, and I was him, I would be putting the human race on the naughty step. No, don't argue and sulk, you done a bad thing, now sit there quietly until I say so; especially you media bastards!

Guardian Debate: How Can The Press Restore Trust

"Once we lose reporters, we're fucked!"

Unless you have spent the past few months on a cloud numbered nine, been in a submarine or in a coma, you will be fully aware of the phone hacking scandal of July 2011 at News of The World. It shocked and horrified our nation, as well as confusing us about whether to sympathise or hate the frail or conniving Rupert Murdoch. Since then, in fact long before then, the public have lost the trust they once invested in Journalism. Journalists are now probably somewhere just above lawyers and estate agents. On this very topic, The Guardian organised a small, public debate; a post hacking debate in which they were discussing ways in which the press can restore the trust.

This Guardian event happened on the 29th September 2011 at The Royal Institute of Great Britain, situated in one the poshest roads in one of the poshest areas of London. I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to attend this event for free. After a trip through London at rush hour on the Underground, a trip which involved a shoulder in the eye and a tube door shutting on my head, I attended the event, looking rather underdressed in my jeans and check shirt. I then sat in a small theatre with inadequate leg room for someone of the slightly above average male-height of 6 foot. I was now sat in a room filled with Journalists, Investigative Journalists and other, media-savvy people. This was a great place to be sat in the middle of for a Student Journalist.

The room filled and then the five established names took to their seats before a short introductory video began. It started with the clip from Fox News during the height of the scandal, in which the news anchor, interviewing Rupert Murdoch, was being told what not to ask by his interviewee before apologising in a cringe-worthy manner. Following that, there was a talking head video of various figures from The Guardian, discussing the course of events including numerous other clips, such as the embarrassing one of Murdoch saying it ‘was the most humble day of my life' to the MPs.

The line-up for this debate consisted of Kristian Guru Murphy, who chaired the event. We had Carl Bernstein, an American investigative journalist who largely reported the Watergate politics scandal for The Washington Post back in 1972 in America. Sylvie Kauffman was next to him, who is the current editor for Le Monde in France. George Eustice is a Conservative politician who has had some large roles in the party, including Press Secretary for David Cameron, who was later succeeded by Andy Coulson: who is a man largely wrapped up in this whole scandal. Alan Rusbridger was also proudly present, and he is the editor for The Guardian. He started off the debate by taking to the stand to give an opening statement.

Guru Murphy then asked the others to give an opening statement to this debate. Carl Bernstein stated that 'Hackgate' was only as a result of the consumer’s wants and needs, but agreed that the press abused their rights to freedom of speech and expression. George Eustice then agreed about the 'using and abusing', but also stated that Journalists would regularly distort the news out of malice. He then went on to knock plans to have a 'Journalists Register' (the equivalent to a sex offenders registers), which would strike off Journalists who break the law.

Sylvie Kauffmann then gave her statement, in which compared our press to that of the French. She said they have no tabloid press, which is the result of a cultural difference and the public having no appetite for those kinds of stories. She actually noted an opposite scandal in France, in which Special Intelligence spy on reporters. This was completely rejected by a French audience member, who stated that Journalists in France undertake the same methods as the British. Alan Rusbridger claimed that the scandal is a result of a PCC failure. He argued that increased regulation could endanger the freedom of the press and a Journalist Register would go back to 1694, when Journalists could be heavily punished for libels.

After an opinionated reaction from Bernstein, who seemed to completely disagree with what Rusbridger had just said, the debate was opened up to questions from the audience. The questions tackled the accumulation of power for News Corporation, in which Rusbridger stated that MPs are trying to stop it, such as the BSkyB bid; albeit last minute, and Kauffmann said the answer is simply more regulation.

Other subjects questioned included tabloids, such as it being impossible to compare tabloid and broadsheet press due to them having a hunger for different stories, and also questioning the limits of privacy. Bernstein answered these questions in saying that responsibility needs to be taken by the corporations, and also that they need to be transparent in their methods and how money is being spent. Bernstein also answered a question about the limits of investigative journalism, in which he thought that the law should not be broken to get a story, but it can still be justified on occasion. He then continued saying that the Watergate investigation was legal and that he would have never hacked phones.

Before the participants gave their closing statements, Kristian Guru Murphy took a poll regarding regulation. Not many people agreed that the answer was more regulation or that we currently have the right level of regulation. Interestingly, a third agreed the answer was less regulation; the same amount of people in the room who were also Journalists.

Bernstein thought that the way to restore trust, something all institutions have lost, is basically through good reporting. Kauffmann said there is no simple answer to restoring trust and that the public needed to decide the media they want. She also said that Journalists, Blogger's and Twitterer's should have the same ethics. On the issue of trust, Eustice stated that in Britain, we have the most trusted broadcasters but the least trusted newspapers, and that this was an issue. Rusbridger thought that regulation, so long as it was effective, was the answer, as well as transparency and the want for organisations to correct themselves too. The debate ended with Rusbridger's final words being "Once we lose reporters, we're fucked!"

So the conclusion? Well, there didn't seem to be a conclusive one. There are many different opinions in which way to restore trust. I think we are just going to have to wait for the results from Lord Leveson's Inquiry next year before really being able to answer the question.