I saw the best movie of my life this week. It's called Snakes on a Plane and it ROCKED! It's a movie that deals with the two greatest fears that most of us have, flying and snakes, and they're both wrapped up into the same storyline. If it had a crazy Muslim hijacker then it would have ticked all the boxes. I actually think that the snakes are a "symbol" for terrorists anyway so that it can play worldwide and not offend. Whatever, it's a kick-ass movie and just the sort of thing that I'm trying to get you Brits to make. Get Kate Winslet and Tilda Swinton in bikinis on a cruise boat covered in spiders, add a time bomb and you've got a commercial success - it's not rocket science. The problem with you guys is that you want to make "worthy" movies. Nothing wrong with them but they just don't make any money and the movie business is just that, a business, not some Sunday afternoon lecture at the Royal Geographical Society.
"How does this jumped up Yank know about the Royal Geographical Society?" I hear you cry. I know of it because Victoria's sister gave a private talk there last week and guess who was dragged along to listen? Harriet, the sister, is not the sharpest tool in the box and decided very early on in life that she was going to be an explorer. It's a difficult thing to be nowadays as we've all been everywhere. She tried to do this thing called "Circum Africa" where she and a friend from school tried to drive an old Land-Rover round the entire coast of Africa. I really don't think that they'd thought it through that much. The friend, Elizabeth (known hilariously as "Zorro" due to a hairy upper lip) got molested in a souk in Sudan and for some reason pulled out. Harriet somehow made it through to Tanzania where she fell in love with a diving instructor in Dar es Salaam and called the whole trip off.
Because Victoria's dad is something to do with the society, Victoria insisted on giving a talk about the trip despite it being a total failure. It was frickin' hilarious - the slides made them look like they were setting off for a week in Tuscany and the place was full of their respective families and no one else. I had to sneak in at the back after Victoria had sat next to Mummy and Daddy. I was allowed to leave early so that her parents didn't see me, I lasted about 10 minutes.
If someone else doesn't then I'm going to be forced to write a screenplay about this family, they are totally out there. To give you an idea, I'd cast Tilda Swinton as Victoria (unless she's busy doing Spiders on a Ship) as they do look quite similar, and I'm thinking Antonio Banderas for Harriet but we'd better keep that one between ourselves.
Work-wise there's not been that much going on as everyone leaves the country for the summer. Danielle, my assistant, has gone to the Canary Islands (is that a real place or is she shitting me?) with four of her girlfriends to get, in her words, "totally shit-faced and shag as many fit blokes as I can". I can't think why they assigned her to me? Though she's actually really funny once you start to understand her mentality. She told me this unbelievable story about her boyfriend, Darren, who got jailed for assaulting a guy at a golf driving range that he thought was laughing at his swing. He hit the guy with a three iron and broke his skull, then destroyed his taxi-cab that was parked outside. He got three years but should be out in two months if he behaves himself - doesn't sound much of a possibility. I really hope that she doesn't decide to send him a postcard.
I went along to an informal evening where I met up with the other people on this media think-tank that David Cameron has asked me to be part of. More like a drink-tank to be honest. We met at a place near me in Westbourne Grove. There was a guy who works at Channel 4 who was wearing what looked like some kind of school uniform, some head honcho from BBC Films and a chick from some independent production company that I'd never heard of. I don't think that it would be an exaggeration to say that none of us really hit it off. We all sort of hid this by getting totally smashed on some unbelievably expensive French red wine and charged it to the Conservative Party, which was cool. I told them my story about hopefully being made a lord and some of the things I'd abolish and they looked at me like I was totally crazy.
I left the place at about midnight and met up with Ben at the Electric Club in Portobello Road. He was sitting with a group of people that included the singer from the band Blur who looked like he's just sucked on a crate of lemons. That guy needs to cheer up!! I know Oasis won the big battle but that was ten years ago and it's time he made some more kickass tunes like the "Woo-Hoo" one. I tried to talk to him but he completely blanked me and spent the evening with some African drummer guy who I got talking to in the end. I told him about the Zorro/Somalia thing but he just looked at me like I was from another planet. The whole evening was a real downer but that's the way things go, sometimes you just don't click with people.
I went back to Ben's house with a couple of friends and we made merry until dawn. We ended up watching a US copy of Snakes on a Plane that Ben had, with the director's commentary on. I'm telling you, go see it - you won't regret it. Cooper Out.