Saturday night on the town
Dec. 12th, 2005 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootis unforgettable if that town is Oldham. Never again.
Oldham is a peculiar place; bombed in the war I presume, or very poor or under-invested...dotted with streets of beautiful victorian houses against a backdrop of dereliction and demolition. Not that the centre isn't convenient and easy to walk around. Doubtless it has its Next, its Gap, its Starbucks, its Asda, its generic wahwah...I couldn't tell you. All I've seen are its pubs, and I saw a lot of those.
Twas a friend's birthday, and out we went, first to a cheap pub, then to a very expensive pub, then to a pub that gave you tubes of undefined alcohol, then to a pub with music and a dance floor; I said my goodbyes at the stage of going to a nightclub because I was out of money, and anyway, I wanted out because it was all so weird.
They don't have their heads shaved close unless they are gay and wearing the Oldham Gay Uniform; a vest showing off perfect abs and muscles, a tan, major tribal tats down one arm and across the back, and camos. The Oldham Straight Uniform consists of a very short square haircut on a very short square head, some jeans, a dark t-shirt underneath a white short-sleeved M&S shirt worn open (the daring may have a tiny print pattern but let's not go wild here) and a pint attached preferably to their favoured arm so they can't use said arm in pocket billiards while watching the girls dance.
I walked into the first pub and almost walked out again, badly shaken by the moose factor. I have never seen so many ugly people in my life; these people need more greens in their diet, badly. And it carried on, though we had a fine time; I first realised that I wasn't getting drunk, despite the best efforts of all around me, because however much I drank the people didn't get prettier.
OK, there is something nice about that arrogant feeling of walking into a room and thinking, 'Oh wow, you bet I am the sweetest looking creecha in here!' This works if you've been feeling a bit rubbish about yourself, but it can't continue for long once you realise that 90% of your admirers can blow bubbles through their noses, and are drunk enough to try to prove it to you. If you danced, they clustered around you like carnies round a hot dog.
It was all a bit horrible, though not as horrible as being chatted up by them. The time-honoured method of smiling, saying 'What? Can't hear! Must find the loo!' preferably with added hand-gestures, didn't work, which is why I found myself escaping to the Ladies' toilets with posses of other women trying to flee the expanding puddles of sub-standard testosterone...and perhaps why all the girls held each others hands on the way, in order to escape being grabbed by some likely lad slurring 'Jushwondanshgwanpleashahcummon...ehwellfuckoffthenifyergwantobelikethat!'
We had our own dramas as a party; our hostess kissed some cromagnon from the counselling course, at which point his girlfriend burst into tears and hassle started. All I could think was how ugly tongues look if you stick them right out. There's something about the nodules on the underside that's a bit disturbing, particularly when they are licking someone's head; the effect can be disturbingly snail-like. The hassle was sorted, and I came home, wearied in mind. I enjoyed the dancing, but that was about it; lovely though my Oldham friends are, there are some scenes where one just doesn't belong. When I returned, I reeked so badly of cigarette smoke, it took two showers with heavilly perfumed soaps and shampoos to get rid of it.
The remainder of the weekend consisted of more mellow activities; meeting up with marvellous chums all round; Bruce and Vickiy sans lj, and their charming little boy Garrett,larians, bluesandtwos, lauremer, velvet_the_cat and Dan sans lj; late sunday night saw me happy and relaxed.
Now come monday morning, I must take stock of my new found knowledge; Kingdom of Heaven isn't bad actually; garden centres are dangerous places; kids can be quite fun when you have the option of handing them back; and, now and forever, just say no to Oldham.
Oldham is a peculiar place; bombed in the war I presume, or very poor or under-invested...dotted with streets of beautiful victorian houses against a backdrop of dereliction and demolition. Not that the centre isn't convenient and easy to walk around. Doubtless it has its Next, its Gap, its Starbucks, its Asda, its generic wahwah...I couldn't tell you. All I've seen are its pubs, and I saw a lot of those.
Twas a friend's birthday, and out we went, first to a cheap pub, then to a very expensive pub, then to a pub that gave you tubes of undefined alcohol, then to a pub with music and a dance floor; I said my goodbyes at the stage of going to a nightclub because I was out of money, and anyway, I wanted out because it was all so weird.
They don't have their heads shaved close unless they are gay and wearing the Oldham Gay Uniform; a vest showing off perfect abs and muscles, a tan, major tribal tats down one arm and across the back, and camos. The Oldham Straight Uniform consists of a very short square haircut on a very short square head, some jeans, a dark t-shirt underneath a white short-sleeved M&S shirt worn open (the daring may have a tiny print pattern but let's not go wild here) and a pint attached preferably to their favoured arm so they can't use said arm in pocket billiards while watching the girls dance.
I walked into the first pub and almost walked out again, badly shaken by the moose factor. I have never seen so many ugly people in my life; these people need more greens in their diet, badly. And it carried on, though we had a fine time; I first realised that I wasn't getting drunk, despite the best efforts of all around me, because however much I drank the people didn't get prettier.
OK, there is something nice about that arrogant feeling of walking into a room and thinking, 'Oh wow, you bet I am the sweetest looking creecha in here!' This works if you've been feeling a bit rubbish about yourself, but it can't continue for long once you realise that 90% of your admirers can blow bubbles through their noses, and are drunk enough to try to prove it to you. If you danced, they clustered around you like carnies round a hot dog.
It was all a bit horrible, though not as horrible as being chatted up by them. The time-honoured method of smiling, saying 'What? Can't hear! Must find the loo!' preferably with added hand-gestures, didn't work, which is why I found myself escaping to the Ladies' toilets with posses of other women trying to flee the expanding puddles of sub-standard testosterone...and perhaps why all the girls held each others hands on the way, in order to escape being grabbed by some likely lad slurring 'Jushwondanshgwanpleashahcummon...ehwellfuckoffthenifyergwantobelikethat!'
We had our own dramas as a party; our hostess kissed some cromagnon from the counselling course, at which point his girlfriend burst into tears and hassle started. All I could think was how ugly tongues look if you stick them right out. There's something about the nodules on the underside that's a bit disturbing, particularly when they are licking someone's head; the effect can be disturbingly snail-like. The hassle was sorted, and I came home, wearied in mind. I enjoyed the dancing, but that was about it; lovely though my Oldham friends are, there are some scenes where one just doesn't belong. When I returned, I reeked so badly of cigarette smoke, it took two showers with heavilly perfumed soaps and shampoos to get rid of it.
The remainder of the weekend consisted of more mellow activities; meeting up with marvellous chums all round; Bruce and Vickiy sans lj, and their charming little boy Garrett,
larians, bluesandtwos, lauremer, velvet_the_cat and Dan sans lj; late sunday night saw me happy and relaxed.Now come monday morning, I must take stock of my new found knowledge; Kingdom of Heaven isn't bad actually; garden centres are dangerous places; kids can be quite fun when you have the option of handing them back; and, now and forever, just say no to Oldham.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 11:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 11:56 am (UTC)With Ridley Scott, I never know whether I'm just watching for the beauty or the story. Maybe I was just in love with all that lush kit/trebuchets etc, and certainly the period is a fascinating one. Saladin had just the right kind of face.
The script, I concede, wasn't one of the film's strong points!
no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 12:27 pm (UTC)Fantastic setting, story needed, er, work.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 01:38 pm (UTC)Beautiful film, some nice touches, but yes it needed work.
All in all I still liked it enough to maybe watch it again.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-12 09:04 pm (UTC)Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-12 09:32 pm (UTC)Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-12 09:57 pm (UTC)Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-12 10:16 pm (UTC)Crowe could, but but the leading man/idealistic hero is a sharply drawn template; I'm not convinced his adventuring crusader would be that different to his adventuring naval captain or his adventuring gladiator.
Alexander was by far the worst movie I have seen these past 2 years. Farrel was fortunate to be rescued by Sin City.
Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-12 11:22 pm (UTC)I have seen worse than alexander - I do go and see plenty of films though. I thought it handled the battle seen very well but never showed what made alexander great
Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-13 12:07 am (UTC)Alexander was this strange jolting montage of scenes that told neither history nor his story. I don't know what Stone was trying to achieve with it.
Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-13 12:08 pm (UTC)Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-13 12:19 pm (UTC)*blinks in confusion*
Re: Re leading man
Date: 2005-12-13 12:28 pm (UTC)