HOW SWEET TO BE AN IDIOT: RIP, NEIL INNES

To paraphrase the immortal Tom Lehrer, I have been a fan of Neil Innes since conception. At least, I have been a rabid convert to the Innes way of thinking since my first introduction to Monty Python, via Live at the Hollywood Bowl on video early in 1984. Amongst the madness, surrealism, shouting, and general lunacy, a small, sweet-voiced man slowed proceedings down to sing two songs: after an umpty-million play-rewind-plays over the course of a week, I have been able to sing I’m The Urban Spaceman and How Sweet to be an Idiot in my sleep since the age of 13.

 

Sadly, Neil Innes left us this week, dying unexpectedly at the age of 76.

It was about eleven seconds from that first exposure to discovering The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, and another life-long obsession. Albums, DVD copies of Do Not Adjust Your Set, and learning every lyric I could cope with followed: my copy of their brilliant album Gorilla was the only LP I kept when Blake moved out and I gifted him my collection because he was so in love with his record player. My love of Python led me to the rest of their movies, and,to The Rutles, and to Innes’ solo work. At every stage, interest became love became an integral part of my comic and musical sensibilities.

 

 

After 35 years, I still have reams of Bonzo and Innes on my playlist, through LPs, to CDs, to, currently, my iPod and iTunes player. Whatever technological advancement is made over the next 10-40 years of my remaining life, they’ll make that journey with me. I’ve come across very few songwriters who can be so funny, sweet, mournful, whimsical, and touching, usually simultaneously. Innes is at the forefront of those I’ve found, and I shan’t be letting go of his work for anything.

 

 

Neil Innes was an important member of my karass, and always will be. RIP. Thank to you, it will always be sweet to be an idiot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

LEGO 250 REVIEW: 70170 ULTRACOPTER Vs ANTIMATTER

Okay, it’s really time to get stuck into these Lego 250 reviews on a regular basis–since I’ve started these reviews, my collection of 250 sets has blown out to over 270, and I kind of want to be through them by the end of 2020, so, you know, maybe reviewing them faster than I buy them might be the way to go……

What better time, then, to introduce a fresh theme? Welcome to the lots-and-lots-and-lots-of-transparent-blue madness that is Ultra Agents.

Continue reading “LEGO 250 REVIEW: 70170 ULTRACOPTER Vs ANTIMATTER”

YEAR IN REVIEW: 2019, THE YEAR THAT LITERALLY SEEMS TO BE DYING IN A FIRE.

Time for me to review the year that was. Let’s be honest: this isn’t going to be a cheery gagapalooza of cheeriness. 2019 was a terrible year, where everything was overshadowed by one moment so deeply traumatic that we will be struggling with its aftermath and connotations for years to come.

But bad should be recorded with good. That is why we journal. To lay down our own truths, and share our lives, no matter where they take us. I mean, that and nob gags, obviously.

So, read on if you wish, forewarned and foreskinned  forearmed:  this year contains more on the truths side and less on the usual level of nob gags. And let the wind grip the ashes of 2019 and blow them into the ocean.

Continue reading “YEAR IN REVIEW: 2019, THE YEAR THAT LITERALLY SEEMS TO BE DYING IN A FIRE.”

BREAKING A SPINE WAS EASIER

Today marks twelve weeks since our son Blake took his life.

There are few, if any, physical signs of our ongoing pain. My weight has ballooned again. Luscious wears a tiny urn, filled with perhaps 1/16th of a teaspoon of Blake’s ashes, on a chain. Connor’s attitude, work, and marks at school have plummeted. Erin has become focussed on her approaching move away from home to an obsessive extent. As a family, as individuals, we are… fractious. If you glance, you might think we’re coping quite well, actually.

But nobody else in our town, outside of our family unit of four, is counting our time for us. Nobody else compares what is to what was. For them, time blurs and smudges. The cause is easily forgotten, or overlooked. Only the symptoms remain. From past experience, I know the phase of “Oh, how terrible” is passing. The phase of “Still?”will soon begin.

I suffered a serious car accident in 2001, as a result of which, I fractured several vertebrae in my spine, along with several injuries that still affect me to this day. If they flare up, they alter the way I walk; my capacity to lift, carry, stand and sit; my mood; and even my ability to hold a decent conversation. If anyone asks, I can simply tell them– car accident, cracked spine, flaring up, bad day.

Oh, dear. Poor thing. So sorry.

We don’t get that with grief. There’s an expectation that, at some time — always unspecified, but always soon or by now — you will get over it, move past it, move on. As if a broken place in the Universe is a simpler fix than a broken bone. I took four months away from work when my first wife died, and even then, it wasn’t enough to cope with the stress of returning. It was several years before I was even fully functional, never mind coping and ready to turn my thoughts to being a completely rational member of my community. There are still members of the Australian SF world who will leave a room when I enter, because I was in no fit state to interact properly when they last saw me, and that gulf between the way I was and the way I ‘should’ have been resulted in too much bad karma and too great a hit to their perception of me. I have destroyed entire blocs of relationships through nothing more than the effortless feat of helplessly drowning in public.

Blake killed himself in the last week of the school term. We had one week away from work, and then the two weeks of the holidays. We were back on the job shortly after term four started. That was as much time as the Education Department could give us, and even then, we were ‘lucky’ to have the holidays in there as well.

It’s not enough. Nothing could, realistically, be enough. We won’t be whole again for an uncountable period of time, and even when we are, we won’t be the people you knew. The shape of us will have changed, forever. It will affect the way we walk; our capacity to lift, carry, stand and sit; our mood; our ability to hold a decent conversation.

And, still, we will be subject to “Still?”, as if a broken place in the Universe should be healed by time and some sort of psychic cast. Like a broken bone.

A broken back was easier.

It’s only been twelve weeks.

 

MIXED MOVIE QUOTE: THE TERMINATOR

It’s been a while since I’ve thrown one of these up, but then, it’s been a while since I’ve watched a movie.

Saturday night, Luscious, Lord 15, and I had tickets to see the new Terminator dumpster fire, but illness and mentals meant we stayed at home and consoled ourselves with lollies and watching the original (ie: The Good One) on Blu-ray instead. 35 years later, it’s still unbelievably good. And so you get this:

 

terminator quote