The Fly That Wouldn't Die

http://www.redbubble.com/people/piebald77/writing/5760941-the-fly-that-wouldnt-die

Favourite Shots

from top:

SALT (2010)

BEOWULF (2007)

CASSHERN (2004)

The cinematic experience, for me, apart from laughing and crying, is all about the camera work, but the most twisty-panning-zooming-darty shot of the movie may not be what impresses me the most in a film. The Matrix is known for starting off the trendy 360° stuff, but I don't necessarily mean all that overly-funky malarkey, milked to excess as slow-motion bullets leave trails through the air. There ought to be some emotional attachment to the content of the shot as well.

Not all movies even have favourite shots. It can be a task to find one. The shots usually happen at critical times of the movie, if they do. And the camera may not be doing anything. It's personal and subjective. It may be just that moment when your involvement in the experience peaks, the instant when you are realising that you are watching something that is affecting you on a spiritual level, and the on-screen image at that time is stained upon your retina as goosebumps course along the nape of your neck.

Or it may just be an innovative skilful camera move.

There's really no need to explain. A favourite shot is a favourite shot, and only you know why.

FACT: Quentin Tarantino would regularly watch 3 movies a day.

FIREWORKS ON A PLANE by A.J

A man from Ramsbottom who took a box of fireworks onto a plane said he didn’t know what the big deal was. To add insult, he had bangers, sparklers and boxes of matchsticks stuffed into his bulging Firetrap-branded jacket pockets.

He is reported to have said, “Hazardous materials my arse. This is just like the time Phillip Cook the bus driver wouldn’t let me get on the bus because I was carrying a car battery. How else was I supposed to get it home?”

Fireworks, which are gunpowder packed into tubes with a fuse, can cause ‘mayhem’ if ignited in tight confines.

The man was travelling from Basildon to Weston-super-Mare to visit a Star Trek convention where he intended to ‘put a show on’ in the car park.

He said it was too boring to wait at the carousel for suitcases so he decided to include the potentially lethal arsenal in his carry-on luggage.

A spokesman for the airline called him a, “Complete and utter pillock with hair gel for brains.”

The man responded to that by saying he had never known a firework to go off on its own before, without someone lighting it.

No charges are forthcoming.

A.J

ANOTHER ANONYMOUS JOURNALIST BROADCAST courtesy of TELLTALE PRESS®

sent by toshiba satellite laptop 11.21 gmt

I HATE MY BOOK SIGNINGS by Emily Reed

DNM FICTION® EDITED BY A.MICHAEL

Emily Reed is back. The ever-young Lady of Letters sent me this the same afternoon I requested it. As the football season winds back in, Emily groans and reaches for yet more Gerard Butler DVDS from Blockbuster. She would rather listen to the director's commentary on one of his DVDS than watch 23 overpaid wimps chase a bag of air around for 90 minutes.

Don't be shy, give me your cash!

Come buy an over-priced ghost-written chunky hardback from me in person. It will a sincere joy meeting all you constant readers. Thinks me not! For an extra 10 bucks, if you surrender your mailing address, my team will forward you a reproduced Polaroid. If you are not satisfied with the reproduced Polaroid, which captures me in my hay day, then I don't even mind if you pin it up on your dartboard.

Buy my back catalogue of memoirs and I couldn't give a monkeys what you do. Fill your empty shelves, use them as doorstops, or go ahead and give them away to someone else....all fine and dandy with me.

Just so long as you do not expect an autograph or a handshake. My security is vigilant about keeping all my fans at arms length. Some people say I am the luckiest person alive, having my popular chic-lit novels sell the world over. I see it as spoon-feeding drivel to the masses.

I can live without you slobbering all over me at Waterstones. I wish I had a lookalike to fulfil these public appearances.

My husband confessed to attending one of Jordan's book signings just to get a look at her bosom! She revels in attention I detest. The only part of the writing process I crave is your cash at the end of it all.

Preferably from Amazon.

© Emily Reed MMX

Zombie Publications All Rights Reserved

I ROBBED MR BULMAN'S BUTTIES by Donny

The reason, I think perhaps maybe, was because he escorted me out of the common room when I was happily chatting with Catherine Derbyshire....

"Come this way, Andrew," he said.

We went through parts of the school only teachers knew. He didn't say another word. Eventually he led me out onto the car park, where CID were waiting in a dark car. I got in the back seat, super compliant. No cuffs.

They whizzed me up the Rainhill back roads straight to the LOONY BIN.

I am being forgetful here though, and muddled up. I used to attend college in am ambulance, you see, and one time Mr Bulman drove me back in his own car. I get confused....still medicated, occasionally, when I am lucky enough, wink-wink, still having night terrors/nocturnal buzzes....only booze helps....and a tightly-knit bunch of back-in-the-day facebook friends whom I hope to strike an honest cord with...

"Never let the facts get in the way of a good yarn" (Chopper Reid).

Is it fiction? Is it auto-fiction?

One thing I do know for certain, besides being foolish enough to be led astray by several crude designs of the modern world, is the fact that I did indeed, yes sir I doth admit it, crept in to his office and thefted his packed-lunch sandwiches (probably packed-lunched by Mrs Bulman), from his shiny black briefcase. Sometime after he either

a) led me out into the waiting arms of CID, or

b) gave me a lift back to the madhouse

The funny thing is, because I was what they call "easily-led", it was not my idea.

Do you think I had the balls to trespass in Bulldog's office alone? No way! That guy was as strict as the perfect lines of his beard! I was just made up to be in college again after my teenage life was uprooted and relocated in a barmy ward for 6 months. Never would I duh-ream of such a naughty act.

I forget who suggested it. They crept in with me. In fact, they did a recce first.

It's bonkers how you remember random vague things from yesteryear...but I can genuinely not recall who it was who got me in there. I just know who it wasn't. By process of elimination, if I was a gambling man, I would have to say Kevin Nicholls.

Nichollsie.

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He's another story though, aw facking hell....don't go there

HE wiped a crow on the fittest girl in the SCHOOL's arm

SHE was 2 years above us and called Amanda someone, friend of Sarah Lowe.... Amanda....it will come to me, can't think at the moment, concentrating on my last BECKS, but I put a friend request in and she no not reply....

Amanda B?

WRITTEN IN 21 MINUTES DEAD by DONNY (aka CLARENCE)

Glastonbury Officer: Great Days

The event is Glastonbury. Back in our school days. One of your friends is off their rocker smashing all the school windows in on a freshly refurbished office block, namely at our treasured school, St Peter & Paul.

The suspect is a one Dan the Man, who doesn't give a shit about anything other than necking as many bottles of Pulse as he can. He is breaking them windows in like there is no tomorrow. But this is just the night before Glastonbury, so it does not matter that much.

Except it does, because Dan the Man, when the police arrived, run off, hid in a bin with his mastermind accomplice Sonny Bannah, then sneaked back to where the police officers had parked up their van, snuck in, and ROBBED ONE OF THEIR JACKETS from the driver's seat!

He later sold this on to Jay Bourne, who wore it for Glastonbury the very next day. I believe the price was a packet of fags plus an old pair of trainers which Dan the Man found on the buildy. The buildy is an industrial wreck in Widnes where the leg-end Anthony Marsh was found dead with a needle hanging out his arm. Anthony was not a crack/smack head, however....just an exciting character who enjoyed home-made brew and teaching young fellows how to jump over high fences belonging to posh gardens on Coroner's Lane gardens....no offence Victoria Cullen, u sexy beast from juniors!

Any old way, Jay found himself in a mess come the biggest festival going. He didn't go green in a mud valley or trip out in a dance tent....all he did is politely ask for some cannabis. You know, a few spliffs, a little chong. EXCEPT HE ASKED RASTAS WHILE FORGETTING HE WAS WEARING HIS POLICE OFFICER'S JACKET.

He thought he had tucked the Cheshire Constabulary badge in but he hadn't. Either that or he had and it had come out again.

You can just imagine how our coloured brothers from Jamaica reacted to this. They took it as some kind of hard-faced personal insult and chased Jay off site. He legged it like Linford Christie running for the sake of his lunchbox, hearing nothing but the sounds of "jack him!", "shank him!" and "get him!" all the way.

Eventually he made it clear of the perimeter and managed to slide into a corner shop. A MUSLIM corner shop, who hated him upon appearance almost as much as the Jamaican Rasta Men hot on his tail. But Jay used his brains and commandeered the premises with nothing other than instinctive survival logic and the power of his jacket. When the Rastas followed him in, he raised a 14" wok above his head and told them to lay right off because back-up was on the way.

The big black brothers retreated.

In later life Jay would become a real PO in the London Met. One perhaps may dare say this experience was an early omen which influenced his future career decisions. If I myself had to get pulled by a officer of the law, I sure hope it would be Jay. I would recount this tale to him and dare him to charge me with anything.

I am sure that whatever I did, even if he caught me red-handed, there would stand a decent chance that he may let me off. Because of this story.

Jay Bourne, Chelsea.

accounted confidentially on 1st hand advice by alejandro wol donegan

THE WILD WILD WEST by A.J

DAVID CAMERON is on a mission to end "wild west" city centres. 50p pints of liquor from Lidl are simply not on; he has seen more than enough thank you very much. From now onwards, you shall pay by the unit. Local councils will be enforcing this rule quicker than the time it takes for you to turn around.

Supermarche booze is now cheaper than chips. During the World Cup, they were practically giving it away. In Cameron's Great Britain, a crate of ale will retail for 50 bangers. At least. Wine will be flogged at 10 notes a bottle. Even the cheap stuff, which is only good for putting on chips.

Conservatives have no sympathy for lousy no-good drunks when full-employment is on the menu; they couldn't give a feck about rotgut cider-punks watching Jeremy Bile. Or is it Kyle? This violent red-eye drink-binge culture has reached critical mass.

"Pre-loading" means you guzzle incredibly cheap high-strength lagers from corner shops before hitting the town where the price of a round on a works night out will dent your wallet almost as much as a £45 England Replica Jersey T-shirt.

Cameron intends to introduce legislation banning infamous 'snakebite' drinks, which are well-renowned for getting the 50 'fiddy' Cent and Pop Idol generation off their heads; a merger is also planned for Tesco, Sainsburys, and Morrisons. The new conglomeration will be entitled Big Corner Shop, and you can forget about bogof or 6 for a pound deals.

Think more along the lines of a VAT deal, which means you pay 17.5% extra. Only now it has gone up to 110%, meaning you dish out more than twice for whatever you want. And that's without cost of duty and touchscreen electronic point of sale tax (EPOS). Don't forget your identification either. Passports and driving licences are no good. Got to be a special ID card, which has more pointless information about you than Google.

The government senior drinks analyst readily admits that bottled water is more expensive than barrelled alcohol. Getting pissed has long been affordable for everybody, but no longer. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Cigarettes are next as well. Then processed tinned food.

David Cameron's ultimate goal, let slip by the right honourable London Mayor B.J, is to have a one world government with a microchip inside everybody's big toe and a camera up everybody's jumper by the year 2020.

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quote of the day

i see u dancin like a star....no matter how diff'rent we are

for all this time i been loving u, don't even know your name

"we could be the same" MANGA

Eurovision 2010 2nd place

BLOGGER DIET STATUS: Gregg the bakers sausage rolls and Perlenbacher premium pills

LISTENED TO: Angry kick-off trance metal

VISITED: Bolton, home of Fred Dibnah and Peter Kay, who can be funny reading a shopping list.

WEATHER: Warm, clear

ATTIRE: Jeans, trainers and hoodie

originally written with a hangover in a cafe

A.J ANONYMOUS JOURNALIST

TRENDY ADVICE by Chubby Chaser

6 million of you out there are cuddly babes! China is working its shocking socks off stitching clothes together big enough to fit you beautiful bitches! Plenty of all you delicious British girls out there rock n roll in a size 16 or above.

In some regions of Halton, reports are circulating that size 20s are hitting the streets with a sexy swagger. Well I should be so lucky to see such specimens! Bigger the better if you ask me.

Rounded frames are cherished by skinny guys in particular, and lest you know, I am a skinny guy! And top designers have you in mind too, my dears. Get yourselves down to London fashion week so you can make an impact upon the glitz industry.

You are only as big as your personal vanity size – this is the perceived reflection from any tall narrow mirror. Take no notice of mannequins in shop windows, because they are never less than size 10 minimum. Go shake it.

Love, C.C

Working on a Fridge

NEED PREMISES....OR A STUDY

CANTEEN TABLE, ANYTHING....

A.T.D

If you recognise a spattering of muscle in any collage work most likely it is property of Art Till Death. Art Till Death is establishing its own signature by presiding over images of a cut 'n' stick fashion either scanned or photographed.

In collaboration with

SCHMOE

"Machines that pollute are only half invented"

John Shirley

Single Figure Collage

SNAPSHOTS OF ARTWORK

The bottom image is the reverse of the above image of the figure on a different background, without the flames-from-space element. It can be strange how you are often rewarded with unintended effects on the backs of your cut-outs - sometimes they look quite good. If you cut out 100 people from a newspaper and look on the other sides, for example, you will discover you have rendered other people, from the other sides of pages, unintentionally.

Above bodybuilder is the Freak, the Beast, the German Giant....

MARKUS RUHL, best shoulders on the planet.

ART TILL DEATH

see it, cut, stick it

Evil Reps

WHAT TO THINK WHEN REPPING OUT

by

Nicky "The Resident Slayer" Dumbell.

Nicky draws on a religious background to boost his workouts with psychological fuel

Think of pushing reps as strikes.

You are trying to break out of a web you are trapped in.

You are pushing apart the very fabric of the universe.

You are pushing all the sin out of your body.

When pulling, you are opening huge doors in the underworld for angels to rush out of.

Concentrate on the cables and levers and pulleys you see on the machines.

They are part of you. You are directly attached to your tendons.

This is MUSCLE/MACHINE SYNTHESIS.

This is MUSCLE vs MACHINE.

You are part of each other. A fusion.

Anyway you want it....so let's av' it.

When doing seated cable row take your mind back in time to when your ancestors rowed for their lives at sea.

Every rep has a beginning, middle and end.

Each one is a journey.

Enjoy.

Stop and you die.

Evil dictators have guns to your head.

They whip you with each rep.

But if you stop it's a bullet.

Your life is worthless.

You are cheap and mean nothing.

You are a failure.

Show em' otherwise.

This, the gym, is it.

Shine under the stress.

Flourish as a beast WITHIN the reps.

Your muscles bellies pool with hate with aggression and anger so bomb the steel and give your ego a voice.

Think of inhumanity's shocking inhumanity to man.

Evil, evil, evil stuff.

Unmentionable stuff you don't, you can't even usually consider.

What makes you cry.

What makes you sad.

The shocking horrors of the human race.

Let them live....

Just for the rep.

Channel it, focus it, and use it for good.

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MORE FROM THE RESIDENT SLAYER

I often hear the word 'boring' banded about when it comes to experienced gym iron-shifters languishing in a plateau. I'm not one of 'em. I disagreed with my current partner when he was rooting for an excuse to try something else, like boxing or martial arts. It's not quite 'in the blood' with him, as it is me. 'Boring' would be the very last word in the whole of the dictionary I would use to describe the local metal gym I attend, actually. The very last.

"But I gotta concede - reps can be repetitive."

I don't pump up while posing in a mirror, like a lot of jerks who hardly break a sweat. You know the drill, every gym has that nice n easy geezer who does single bicep dumbell curls, admiring his own reflection. He's the kind of guy who would make love to himself if he could. He may be well built, and the lazy pace is better than none at all, but he sure doesn't wanna tear the place up and go totally balls to the wall like me. I wanna go beserk every single workout, after an emotionally draining day at work. I build the fire all day and unleash it in the evening.

Reps are the threads you use to stitch your workout together. Every one matters. GET CREATIVE WITH THEM: VISUALISE & IMAGINE

Nicky Dumbell, Hants.

Childhood Inspiration 2

VAMPIRE HUNTER D (1985)

I borrowed this manga video from a friend in school. Manga was something

completely new and alien at the time. Even today, plenty of adults will be unfamiliar with manga. I remember this ending as being very touching as a kid. The girl and the boy are running towards the edge of a cliff, where they know 'D' is passing below. 'D' is a VAMPIRE HUNTER ON HORSEBACK. They are desperately running but its not sure if they will reach the end to wave goodbye to him or not, and all the while, to the heartfelt music of trumpets and panpipes, he is just steadily galloping further and further away on horseback. Thankfully they reach the end and shout for him, and fortunately he turns his head, and so hears them. They make eye contact.They have said their goodbyes. And that's it. That's all the final scene was about: a pair of kids running to say their goodbyes.

*********************************************************************************

I don't know why it felt like so much more at the time. I think I must have thought he was turning his back on them, that perhaps he was leaving them behind for some reason, which got me thinking why would anyone turn their back and leave behind a couple of precious young children? Especially if they were running so hard and so much wanted to see him? I forget the plot, this was truly going back, and much prefer to still consider it with an air of mystery. Despite what may have happened before in this feature-length animated movie, the great news was that:

1.They got to the edge of the cliff in time to shout for him, and

2.He heard and acknowledged their goodbyes before it was too late.

Then VAMPIRE HUNTER D continued along his own solemn way. The ending can be seen at the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPuu9HNUcN4

Muscle Women Web Art

Sorry there are no names to go with these, they are just pulled randomly from the net while ATD tries to organise some collages together. Arranging collages is an up and down job because you are constantly rummaging around for bits of blu tack and scraps of paper, plus there are that many different images it can be hard knowing where to begin.

This should be the month of SCHMOE, which is all things female body building, but it can be quite tricky switching direction so suddenly. Documenting the pottery scene is the easiest of all; the fiction side of things, with popular/body building stories, takes a lot more work, and so will yield less posts per month.

There is a tried and tested method, however, for constantly producing original, topical and entertaining popular fiction. It was shown to be by most of the writers who contributed in JUNE. It's not like how I expected they did it, by banging their heads against a blank page until they managed to invent something worthy of writing down. No, I am assured that each the popular short short stories in June were written, from scratch, within 60 minutes. There is a method that almost anyone can learn. That is not quite the same with the SCHMOE stories in MAY.

Web Art

redbubble.com

Check it out. Upload your stuff. Get instant feedback.

These are ART TILL DEATH's 4 top pieces from net artists.

Red October by Lori Smaltz (1st left), Chambers & Heaven by Jamari Lior (middle), Moody with Blues and Pinks by Kayleigh Walmsley (right), Le riviere de mon reve by Betias (lower left).