Apologies for the delay in updating Jayne’s World (and, four months on, I still can’t get used to the hideously tacky name I’ve chosen for this blog). Total Film was doin’ the deadline thang again so I’ve been too busy or too tired to scribble away. No free pizza as we slaved into the evening this month, sadly, though we did raise a glass of champagne to my boss’s pet goldfish, Dudley, who swam off this mortal coil last Wednesday. “He was a prince among men,” sniffed my boss, rather worryingly. “A goldfish with attitude… We’ll never see his like again!”
Quite a few daft things have happened since I last blogged. For instance, I’ve discovered that purple nail varnish doesn’t suit me – impluse buy, what can I tell ya? – but that Tumble really enjoys scraping it off with her teeth. I’m not sure if rats are supposed to eat nail polish, to be honest, but she certainly seems to enjoy it.
Last night I went to the cinema to see Johnny Depp in the highly-enjoyable-but-incredibly-rude-don’t-show-it-to-your-granny The Libertine. On the way home my friend Paul and I started chatting to a jolly homeless guy who asked our names. He kissed my hand in greeting, pulling off a pretty impressive Joey Tribbiani “How you doin’?”, before I asked his name in return.
“Och, you won’t believe it,” said the man. “It’s Connor McLeod.”
Anyone who hasn’t seen Highlander may like to know that Connor McLeod kills people with a big sword and is immortal. Pop gods Queen even sang about him: “Who wants to live forever?” This Connor McLeod was 34, looked 54 and had obviously had more than enough of this lifetime. Nice chap, though.
Another daft happening (and a complete subject change): if you’ve ever travelled by Tube you may have noticed its Underground Mice – wee little rodents who scamper from rail to rail in search of food dropped by the millions of people who use the platforms every day. We humans are a mucky bunch, make no mistake, and it’s nice to know that those cheeseburgers thrown so casually onto the tracks can feed a family of furry critters (their cholestrol levels must be frightening, though). Underground Mice, for the record, are jet-black from all the soot expelled by the trains and are apparently born deaf after generations of their kind have had their eardrums popped by the sound of engines. Not the healthiest of lifestyle choices, obviously, but at least they don’t get hunted by cats.
Anyway, at Marylebone Station the other night I saw The Fastest Mouse In The World. No kidding! It skittered before my eyes like a miniature cheetah, a flash of black against the sooty concrete. I blinked, wondering if I’d imagined it, but no! There it was again, ten feet away, scampering like a sprinter. I have never seen an animal move so quickly in my entire life. It actually scared me.
Later, when I texted Biddy my discovery, she texted back: “Was he shouting, ‘Arriba! Arriba!’ and wearing a tiny sombrero, by any chance?” No, he wasn’t. But he bloody should have been.
Daft happening number four: I watched a Japanese anime movie called Ghost In The Shell 2: Innocence yesterday and for some inexplicable reason spent 20 minutes giggling when I saw the review disc sent out by the PR company had “GITS” written on the outside. Why is that funny? I don’t know. But it is.
And finally… a while back I wrote that one of my work colleagues compared me to Jason Voorhees from the Friday The 13th movies because I’m so calm and methodical. Well, he’s bettered himself this week. Word for word, and I ain’t lying, I swear it, this is what he told me:
“Jayne, I want you to know this about me. I’ve thought up a ten-year plan. I’m gonna write a screenplay, jack in this job and go to Hollywood. I’m going to keep writing screenplays until I’m making $4 million a pop, then I’m going to write and direct them too. Then, when I’m established and famous and the world is at my feet, I’m going to write a film about a mermaid.
“And I want YOU to be that mermaid.”
I think he needs professional help, don’t you?