Sebald brass

Holy shit, WG Sebald's sentences are FUCKING MENTAL in a totally bloody brilliant way. Check out this mother.

"The white luminous globes hanging from the ceiling and the rows of children bent over their work were reflected in the darkened window-panes through whose mirrored surface the just discernible tops of the apple trees were like black coral in the depths of the ocean."

Vertigo, WG Sebald (trans. Michael Hulse)

Flight comedy

I've just been rediscovering the awesome Flight of the Conchords, aka "New Zealand's fourth most popular folk parody duo".

Saw them play at the Edinburgh festival back in 2004 and hadn't heard a thing about them since - until I read the other day that they've made a TV show for HBO in America. It's been acquired by BBC4 and, looking at first episode (downloadable free as a podcast from iTunes), is Peep Show versus Curb Your Enthusiasm - with songs!

To whet your appetite, here's a clip of the song they tend to open their live shows with, 'Jenny'. It's absolutely perfect.



Update: the following two are also great, if you're interested.

Lessons learned from... The Bourne Ultimatum

Working for The Guardian is Very Dangerous.

Five great 'restraint' romance flicks

• In the Mood for Love
• Casablanca
• Brief Encounter
• Lost in Translation
• The Remains of the Day

Coogan fun

Can't wait for the new series of Saxondale tonight. Here are a few classic Steve Coogan moments to get us all in the mood.






(The second one's more Brydon than Coogan, but it's too good to miss.)

Back to Lowlands

I've been away. But now I'm back. Did you miss me? Okay, fine, FUCK YOU.

Oops, sorry. Anyway, I've just been to a music festival called Lowlands (I also went two years ago: this happened). It was in Holland. Got to Amsterdam on Wednesday and proceeded directly to a pub called The Flying Dutchman, run by a crazy American. Some hours later I was playing a drunken game of darts. I don't know where.

On Thursday morning, we all arrived at Lelystad Station, which is about 45 minutes on the train from 'Dam. It was pouring with rain. Raks, Sarah and I sat in silence in our taxi to the festival site, as the hostile weather lashed the windscreen. I was thinking things like, "Why didn't I bring an umbrella?", "Why didn't I bring bin bags?" and "I want to go home." I also had a hangover from the previous night's shenanigans; this didn't help. In fact, it was all so terrible, I'm going to slip into haiku.

We unpacked our stuff
Then walked. We got to the gate
And started to wait.

We queued, gloomily.
The rain cleared; everyone cheered.
It started again.

Well eventually the bastards in charge opened the gates and we all stampeded through. As there were several Lowlands veterans among our number, the tent-pitching location tactics were not a problem – and we had the pick of the park. Wooooooo. Lucky, too, because it gets pretty rammed in there. And I can prove it!

Before.

After.

See? But with tents up, the bad part – queuing and rain – was over. The next morning we went into the festival proper. First things first: we ate. Here's a tray of demolished chicken.

The Lowlands River God raised his hands in anguish from the lake where he lives, angry, I think, because we ate his sacred chicken. But the gentle rain forced him back.

What happened next? Well then I saw Jack Penate, Kate Nash, Editors, Kasabian, Eagles of Death Metal, Damien Rice, The Killers, The Rifles, The Black Seeds, The View, CSS, M.I.A., The Enemy, New Young Pony Club, Loney, dear, The Shins, Kings of Leon, The Pigeon Detectives, Arcade Fire and Groove Armada. Were they good? They were. (Except The Rifles, who weren't.)

Now I'm home, it's strange. I feel like I'm not quite here, but also that none of the above actually happened. Dislocated, you might say. Ah well, back to work.

Cruise control

Just got back from my second visit to Lowlands, a music festival in Holland (here's what happened two years back). More on that later. In the meantime, check out this very funny impersonation of Tom Cruise, by US comedian Dane Cook (nup, me neither).

India in da Indie

I have an article in The Independent today. If you can't afford the 70p cover charge, it's online here, replete with bizarrely literal headline.

Surprisingly this isn't my debut for the Indie - I once had a small bylined piece on the subject of Fabergé eggs, at the bottom of page 3 (phwoar!). I'm a bit of an expert on Fabergé eggs, you see.

Lessons learned from... The Simpsons Movie

If driving a motorbike up the inside of a glassy dome, ensure you accelerate when halfway round.

Star turn

Surprisingly Star Stories is shaping up to one of the funniest things on TV (not that there's much competition at the moment). I was initially put off - the way the first series was marketed made it look, as one of the programme's characters might say, absolutely shit.

I liked Friday's Simon Cowell episode, particularly this moment:

Simon Fuller: "This isn't about money. This is about something you seem to have forgotten about along the way."
Simon Cowell: "Friendship?"
Simon Fuller: "No. Copyright law."