Critic Cal

There's few songs quite like Pulp's Common People  to jeopardise one's vocal cords. It came on in the car on the way to church the other day, and away we went, belting it out full volume leaving little in reserve for the song-sermon-sandwich that awaited. And oh! did we sing it with feeling. I can hardly begin to tell you how much I really meant it , y'know? She would never understand  -- how could she? How could she have any idea  how it feels ? y'know? to live one's life with no  meaning  ... no  control . Sure, she could go through the motions -- rent a run-down little flat above a chemist, spend her days behind the counter in MacDonalds, acquire a taste for Benson and Hedge's finest, make a name for herself at the local pool hall, shrug her high-brow education off like a sharp suit jacket in a sports bar ... But at the end of the day, lying there weary in bed, still smelling of chip fat, and $%*!-it there's another cockroach --maybe she'd stic...

In early March, the builders finally returned our door keys at the end of a "four week job" that started in November ... We'd got them in to fit us a new bathroom, before the old one rotted or important bits snapped off or water, water everywhere or some other hypnogogic horror realised itself before our eyes. And also to stop it raining in our kitchen because, well, that particular original feature was starting to seem rather worn. And they did an admirable job and charmingly to boot, and there are many very sound (but miserable and boring) reasons why it took so exhaustingly much longer than estimated, so we would confidently pass their contact details on to anybody looking for a builder. But ... it was a long "four weeks" ... to have people around all the time when I'm so greedy for solitude; to have plastic sheeting three-quarters through the house; to have a functionless cave where the amenities used to be (downstairs toilet + gym membership = much...

And there was a man named Andrew Gower. He was a former politician, and was rich. And he was seeking to see who Jesus was. Jesus was trending on social media. But Gower could not access it, because he had deactivated his accounts. (This had taken place when news of his expenses first made print. In those days, many people were poor, and the government did not find anything they could do, because they feared for the economy. So when the voters heard about his second home, they all arose against him.) So he went online and made a pseudonym, and followed all the conversations that were passing. And he marvelled at the things that Jesus was reported to have said and done. But one day, someone saw a photo on his profile, and rebuked him, saying “Are you not the man who spent our taxes on an ornamental fountain?” And there arose an uproar among the people. “Away with such a fellow from the earth!” they tweeted. But Jesus said : “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears ...

Just when mum and dad thought they could safely stop worrying about my little sister leading me astray, said rebellious sibling gets me into Buffy -- a program most decidedly  not featured in the authorised version of the Radio Times when we were growing up. I guess I've long-since graduated from the target demographic. Still, I can easily see why it got so successful. It has everything a high-school horror comedy romance drama series should: the jocks, the geeks, the cheerleaders, the teachers who are out to get you (slash eat you) ... undead overlords, seductive arthropods ... friendship, unrequited love, parental run-ins, the older (but only by a couple-a hundred years, though) guy ... peer pressure, bullying, internet demons ( not the 'background process' type) ... the general, over-arching challenges of trying to balance a social life around schoolwork around slaying ... Sure is a tough gig being the Chosen One: [Buffy defeats vampire/demon/human-animal hybr...

This friend I had — I don’t make friends easy. We met at the bus-stop I pass on the way to the gym. It took a year or so of amicable passing nods before we got to talking. And then … his thick Scottish accent … my tongue-tying social anxiety … it took a further while to piece together much of a rapport. But he was patient and, unlike so many, keen to see the best in me. Besides, we found ourselves on the firmest of common grounds. Soon our early morning chats were a routine feature of my rigid routine. I’d walk up first thing from my nice warm bed to go workout-away all the mental and physical hindrances between me and the forthcoming day. And he’d have been there some time already — the first stop of the day after quietly easing away from whichever half-sheltered corner he’d managed to stake for himself in the night. The thing with bus-stops is that "waiting" and "hanging around" are fairly indistinguishable activities — at least until the full roster of routes...

The produce of a week or so's worth of rather cathartic evenings back in July...                  To Their Moot Issue                 Had we but world enough, and time,                 This indecision were no crime;                 We would sit down, and think, and weigh                 The pros and cons, our long life's day.                 You'd watch the lads-turned-dads, matchside,                 With wistful awe; I, with...

There's this Rowan Atkinson sketch where he does a comically solemn vicar character delivering a sermon about "The Amazing Jesus" -- And on the third day, there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee. And it came to pass that all the wine was drunk. And the mother of the bride came to Jesus and said unto the Lord, they have no more wine. And Jesus said unto the servants: "Fill six waterpots with water." And they did so. And when the steward of the feast did taste from the water of the pots, it had become wine. And they knew not whence it had come. But the servants did know, so they applauded loudly in the kitchen. And they said unto the Lord: "How the hell did you do that?" And inquired of him: "Do you do children's parties" And the Lord said: "No." But the servants did press him, saying; "Go on, give us another one!" [...] And they brought him on a stretcher a man who was sick of the palsy. And they cried unto him:...