Seamus Heaney: A Huge Loss

As soon as my tea stained eyes fell upon these words, "Seamus Heaney, the Nobel Prize-winning Irish poet and playwright, has died," my heart gave a heave of sadness. Oh my words, what dreadful news to be met with after only a few clicks of the mouse. Especially for a fellow poet/playwright (though not as grand to put myself on Heaney's level) who looked on the Irish writer as a kind of Obi Wan Kenobi figure. One of the last living Master (capitol M) Scribe. What wretched news!
Life, you can be a swine at the best of times but today? Today you are double the pig.
I was fortunate enough to spend time with Seamus Heaney at a poetry reading in Swansea University back in 1998, and it was like being in the presence of someone who knew all the tricks. It was immense, like a film fan meeting Clint Eastwood if you changed the Arts. Believe me, you know when you are in the company of a great man, something in your spirit alerts you, and it was certainly true back in the Taliesin center all those years ago in Swansea.

'Tis a black day, losing such a genius poet when real poets are so rare in this world. I'll take leave to mourn and leave you with words by Seamus himself:

"Be advised my passport's green.
No glass of ours was ever raised
to toast the Queen."

The Spiked Barrel

Venture out into most big towns or cities on a weekend after 7pm, and you shall witness more flesh and public drunkenness than is needed to convince you that "getting lashed" (drunk) is now normal for the young and not so young. Its not only normal, its almost expected of you. Don't fancy drinking your own body weight in Jagerbombs, then puking half cooked kebabs in shop doorways? Then you sir/madam, are weird!
But it wasn't always like this. Look at that guy encased in a barrel in the sketch up there. Look fun? It was a spiked barrel too, just to make it you know, that much more uncomfortable. "Oh noes! What foul deed did this brigand commit? Murder? Treason?" Well no, this was the penalty for public drunkenness in Elizabethan times. Cool huh? What a sight it would be these days, we would need to chop the entire Amazonian rainforest to keep up with barrels! Our streets on a Friday night would be like the "Night of the Wooden Daleks".
Interesting how with the passing of time, our attitude towards alcohol can change. We are constantly evolving (and devolving in some instances) to suit the times.

Diana: Its All...Conspiracy

Scotland Yard to investigate whether Princess Diana was murdered?
I usually enjoy a good conspiracy theory, some are clever and very imaginative but the ones surrounding this accident are rubbish. Some are so weak they can produce some genuine Laugh Out Loud moments. First off, organising a car crash would NOT be an ideal way to get someone killed because very few people die in car wrecks. If it was, as suggested in some corners, a "hit" plotted by the military, they would have much more creative and sure fire methods at their disposal than causing a car crash. A vehicle wreck is loud, bold and attention grabbing. Hardly the ways of shadowy security forces.
We have already had three investigations into this tragedy, I cannot see the results of a fourth being any different; accident no foul play. Anyone with an ounce of common sense will have looked at the evidence before coming to the conclusion that there was never a shred of evidence to support the murder theory. This is why Al Fayed was laughed out of the inquest. The driver, Henri Paul, was DRUNK for crying out loud! And had been on the happy pills. He was driving at speed, at night, with paparazzi flash bulbs going off around the car. Its a miracle to me how he even got as far as the tunnel. I have never been so irresponsible to drive drunk, but I have tried cycling up my garden path after a few too many, and I didn't get 10 yards before I was in a hedge.
Add to all that the fact that none of the car's occupants was wearing a seatbelt, I cannot see how anyone would be tempted to believe it was anything other than a fatal crash. All these stories of mythical white cars disappearing from the scene, or claims that Diana was spotted standing up outside the mangled car, are just flights of fancy conjured up by fantasists. Maybe some cannot accept that a former Princess with the fairy tale wedding could die so horrifically in a French tunnel. Others are obsessed with conspiracy and the Illuminati who secretly control the world's affairs (so secret and powerful are they, that weirdos on the internet have them sussed.)
Me? Well like I have said, I usually enjoy a good conspiracy theory but regard them much like the Star Wars saga or any other work of fiction. To actually believe them? That's a tad desperate don't you think?

Expendables 3: Good News

Lurch is gone

Expendables 3 just got better now that its been revealed that Nic 'Crappy' Cage is OUT of the movie. Thank f**k for that, im not a huge fan of these movies, in my opinion they could have been so much better, but having lantern headed Cage in it would have killed it stone dead before it hit the track for me. Suffice to say, I am most definitely NOT a fan of Cage. "Leaving Las Vegas" was okay but I enjoyed that because of the subject it dealt with (alcoholism) rather than crumple chops' performance in the film. And Elizabeth Shue's spectacular ass of course.
Everything else this lump has ever done (and I must admit, ive not seen much of his work as he makes my skin crawl) is very meh. Average at best. And I can never forgive him for ruining Ghost Rider, one of my favourite comic book characters of all time. Con Air had a wonderful idea behind it until Cage appeared looking like the love child of Worzel Gummidge and Lurch from The Addams Family. Hearthrob he is NOT, good actor even less. Also these Expendables movies are all about 80s action legends for me (with some exceptions like Jason Statham) and the Gummidge/Lurch hybrid is not welcome. So when I read the news earlier that Expendables 3 would be knickerless (Nic-er-less geddit?) I was one happy motherf**ker.

The Vacant Helen Flapadumgums

Here be cobbles

Can somebody tell BratNews™ what on Atari's good, green earth is the tabloids fascination with ex Corrie actress, Helen Flanagan? And do pictures of her emerging bottle eyed from yet another tacky nightclub really deserve a daily place on your pages? This isn't some legendary Hollywood A-Lister, its just some lass who appeared in soap opera Coronation Street for a few years. Hardly Marilyn Monroe is she? (And in true wannabe fashion, Helen has a MM tattoo but that's as close to the icon's magic she will ever get.)
Look, im sure she's a nice girl and all, and its not her fault tabloid rags are so celebrity obsessed, but from where I stand, Flapadumgums Flanagan is nothing more than a pointless idiot trapped in the horrible world of minor celebrity. And it IS horrible. Genuine big hitters like Stallone or Depp going through a quiet phase? No problemo! Simply splash a few pictures of a lowly ex soap star (who should now be working in the local chippy) all over your grubby pages. Sorted! And how dim is Flapadumgums? She is so deluded, she thinks she has the greatest breasts the world has ever clapped its eyes on!!? LULZ Close the Twitter account love, you'll be taking those absurdly high heels and walking on water next.
If ever there was a poster child for worthless celebrity, Helen Flapadumgums is it. Well her and that foul Katie Price woman, who looks more and more like a collagen addicted hagfish every day.

Great Videogame Deaths

1. Sniper Wolf's death (Metal Gear Solid)



2. Lisa's death (Silent Hill)



3. Iwao Hazuki's death (Shenmue)

Itchy. Tasty...Evil 2

Pass the ketchup

Resident Evil 2 is one of my favourite videogames of all time. Even the rats gnawing on Mr Zombies leftover bones know this. I must have played it easily over 50 times (I went through a phase of playing it on a 'loop' once) but even though I have squeezed every possible ounce of thrill and enjoyment out of Resi 2, and know every alleyway and hidden secret better than the back of my hand, I can still pop it into my Playstation 2 or Dreamcast on any given moment and BLAM! I am hot for the undead hoards once more.
Playing Resident Evil 2 for me is like revisiting an old childhood park; a place which holds many cherished memories, suspended among the rusted iron, rising up from the warm gravel, waiting for me to get drowned in that comforting glow of the distant past. And no, im not exaggerating, this is really how it is for me. Its more than a game, its an experience and replaying it always sends me spinning back to a time when I had fewer responsibilities and those dear to me, who have long since passed away, were still here. Closer to boy than the man life forces one to become (some can be lucky mind.)

Resident Evil 2 memories:

1. Meeting creepy Chief Irons in his office, with the mayors dead daughter slumped on his desk.

2. Lighting the flare after coming off the sky tram and trying to get a last glimpse of the police station you'd fought so hard to escape from. I don't know why but this always shakes something in me.

3. Birkin "G" monster walking past/above you and Sherry in the sewers **shiver**

4. That pesky T-103 Tyrant stalking you throughout the game.

My PS2, Dreamcast copies & guide



Chief Irons has it under control...kinda