Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, November 10, 2003

Stop The Matrix, I Want To Get Off


I’m back. And you can stop trying to set fire to Christine Hamilton.

That’s my job.

Despite my weakened state, I can still feebly raise my hand to type... and to firmly stick two fingers up at the dreadful hacks called The Wachowski Brothers. If the third film were graced with the title Matrix Resolutions, I would have sued. There is no cohesive finale: while it does end, it doesn’t explain, resolve or any other things that it should. Surely if every one of the Smith clones died, the machines are without power? Is Neo dead?

And above all, do we care?

The worst muck I can fling at it is it feels wholly like a Season Eight episode of The X-Files: refusing to explain anything, nor give up the ghost. As far as I’m concerned, there is an almost-perfect slice of cinema history out called The Matrix, and then Vere Lorrimer came over to work on the next two spin-offs. The film was so ghastly that the Wife and I started playing our favourite game of recasting the film to make it fun: bring on ‘Carry On Matrix!’

Jim Dale as Neo
Barbara Winsor as Trinity
Bernard Bresslaw (blacked up) as Morpheus
Joan Simms as The Oracle
Kenneth Williams as The Architect
Frankie Howerd as The Merovingian
Amanda Barrie as Persephone

There. Just doing that has made it ten times better. Everyone else: save your money or go and see Finding Nemo instead.


Despite my weakened state, I can still feebly raise my hand to type... and to slip in an Alias DVD into my player. I am thrilled by Alias at the moment, a show based on all the wigs left over from Gerry Anderson’s UFO. It’s brilliant repetitive formula is keeping me coming back for Sidney Bristow’s daft and flamboyant adventures: if you care to write your own script, here’s what you have to abide by.

One: resolve terrible, earth shattering cliffhanger from previous episode. All pre-titles of course.
Two: Give Sydney a heartfelt moment showing that she’s still all woman.
Three: Briefing at SD-6. Collect comedy gadget.
Four: Flirt with Vaughn in plain sight of everyone.
Five: Go on a mission. Which will go wrong.
Six: Cliffhanger!

While all of you out there are probably foaming at the gash over Agent Vaughn, I’m girding my ardour towards dear Will Tippin. Oh, Will, you scruffy blue-eyed wonder. I haven’t felt this gooey over a man on TV since I almost literally came across J from 5ive on MTV one spring afternoon.

My evil best friend Declan naturally loves Alias. He wants to work for Credit Dauphine – unusually not to bring down the world, but so he can tell all his ex’s and stalkers whom he works for, instantly getting them killed.

How very neat.


Despite my weakened state, I can still feebly raise my hand to type... and to hoist a glass of whiskey to my lips. The party I was invited to on Friday night were most forthcoming about my illness and procured me a chaise-longue to rest my weary bones upon for the duration of the eve, tended to by the ever-beautiful Yaz (where she’d hidden the Plastic Population was not a subject to broach). Alas, they couldn’t find me a pouffe to put my legs upon, and no matter the amount of force-feeding whiskey to the delicious Graham, he still remained resolutely married to Astrid.

It was a thrilling experience being surrounded by former work colleagues, including birthday boy Tim with whom I worked with for a fortnight - until I realised that I was kidding everyone and couldn’t do the work at all. And I got to spend time with my former IT manager Jerry too. Ah, dear old Jerry. We’re all convinced he is Vulcan. He also has this bizarre ability to make machinery work whenever he’s near it, despite being dead in your hands ten minutes prior. Technology loves him. It must be his pheromones – if ever you go into a Comet with him (Heaven forfend; that’s where Linda Barker’s hiding her leatherette face at the moment) you will see all this technology rattling, then launching off the shelves at him a la Superman III. And you can always strike up a conversation by asking to see his iPod in action round the back of the loos. He’s very forthcoming, you know.

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