Video Village

Sam “speaking”. I could prattle on interminably about the Funfiltered hiatus you've been unknowingly withstanding. But, ignoring the nauseating magnitude of this 60th episode, I do recognise you have lives to lead, what's rest of the damnable things. So I will prattle on terminally. I further recognise that, when your washing machine breaks down, you're not that concerned with the nuances of the m...

Sam “speaking”. The relationship between content and blurb is one encumbered. Well, for me it is. I imagine for most it’s as simple as prioritising the production of their vid and, knowing as they do that fucker none reads the “descriptions”, leaving it at a cheeky “Hello” and perhaps a link to their ‘gram and inexplicable merch store. I think you deserve better. That’s a lie. Who are you? Do you...

Sam writing. ----- FADE IN: INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT SAM (27, overweight) sits at the table. He stares bleary-eyed at his laptop. It’s early morning and it’s showing. He eyes a pack of cigarettes. S moves the mouse, opening a document titled “Blurbs”. He begins typing. On the screen, we watch him type: “FADE IN: SAM (27, overweight) sits at the table. He stares bleary-eyed at his laptop. It’s earl...

Sam "speaking". ‘Tis the age of the podcast, the business page, the second Instagram profile for one's hobby/vocation/the boundary is ambiguous, etc. And so it’s a safe assumption that you know some poor Gen Y sap peddling their wares Webwide. And while “fake it till you make it” is an aphorism of some wisdom and an attitude of some esteem, don’t you just hate it when your mate employs the pronoun...

Sam "speaking". I had a book called Children’s Miscellany as a child, appropriately. Saturated with trivia, it nurtured the glazomaniac (list junkie) and pub quiz aficionado in me. It forever equipped me with the ability to recite the seven deadly sins at will and a theoretical understanding of how to milk a cow. Doubtless a result of my increasingly ruinous nostalgia, the extract that unfailingly...

Sam "speaking". Fine. I will acknowledge you, you tormenting tusker, since you so rudely refuse to loaf elsewhere. Don’t look at me with those big Dumbo eyes, it inseminates unbearable shame! And yes, readers, you’re welcome for the provision of “Dumbo” and “inseminates” in the same sentence. Your childhood be cussed, those scavenging bastards out there in Twitterville have been gorging on that co...

Sam “speaking”. Here it is. The typically bloated, typically belated and atypically... tinted 54th episode of the FF podcast. The question I have for Norman E. Rosenthal et al. is... was it decided first that the acronym would be "SAD", the constituent terms retrospectively conceived? Or was the end result a quirk of fate? I'll concede that very little contortion or contrivance would have been req...

Sam “speaking”. Allow me to unlatch the portal to my mind. But before I do, let's evaluate why that sentence has uncentred you somewhat. Firstly, the image of a portal on a latch lacks form. You don't quite know what to picture. Secondly, it's not "a" portal. The "the" has necessarily transcended it beyond the figurative. It's "the" portal. It, like, exists. Finally, I'll be the first to admit tha...

Sam "speaking." This episode was recorded over a month ago. Therefore, it is on you to infer the acute insight and scathing commentary that would have attended such hot-button issues as the fall of Afghanistan, the failed recall of Gavin Newsom, the death of Michael K. Williams, summat inevitably Covid-y and the new Matrix trailer. Actually, it can essentially be condensed to "Well, how fucking ho...

Sam "speaking." Since the inception of Funfiltered in 2019, writing these blurbs has required me to don the figurative duds of Jeremy Kettle, to step through the stargate into a dimension of stratified ironies and byzantine prose. These little descriptions, neglected as they were and will continue to be, were only the tip of the iceberg. The world of Jeremy Kettle (or J.K.U. to me and nobody else)...

FADE IN. Saturday last marked the wedding of Dexter Chisp and Pfidze latterly-Chisp, the "Lanka" having been relegated to the obscurities of née - tradition aside, why one would readily assent to "Chisp" is the chef d'oeuvre of confusion. In attendance were several (Baltic) leaves of the Lanka family tree. All behaved in my presence with a queer salmagundi of scowl and supplication, thus affording...

Pfidze Lanka and Dexter Chisp are set to pledge their troughs on July 3rd. Under the sentinel of approx. 70 witnesses, they shall conjugate. In the eyes of the Lord and the state, that is. If the yecchy hoots and jibbers emanating nightly nether my chamber affirm anything, it's that those two are biblically conversant in what one imagines to be a uniformly unlovely interlock. And one can't HELP bu...

I seize this moment to speak a little about Israel-Palestine. Oh, how I JAPE. ‘T’would appear that my sixty-two years on this marble and the enlightenment accrued therein count for goose-egg. That said, can enlightenment be ACCRUED? Or is it something at which one ARRIVES? There you go. Prima facie attestation to my sagacity. You may argue that raising a multitude of questions without attempting i...

On this ep, the "lads" revisit the Harry Potter franchise - a REUNION, of sorts. Ergo, this segue is the antithesis of ham-fisted. It's veg-open-palmed or some such zinger*. With the easing of lockdown (apparently - who's still keeping tabs? - it's chuffin' whimsical), the extended Kettle clan clustered for a REUNION. The complexity of each kinsperson and a social media character limit preclude me...

Three hours and fifty-six minutes… &#%!?!@ ME! Yes, that is the correct number of symbols. And yes, you will croak it ignorant of that which they substitute. Pluck mirth from ambiguity for once in your damned lives. For the select many of you who scarcely acknowledge the existence of Lithuania, let alone scan its deci-county crime news, let alone peruse the lawless specifics of each municipality,...

It is with a featherweight heart that I teletype this abstract. Yesterweek, I took it upon myself to go a-perambulatin'. The compelled monasticism we have all been practicing to greater, lesser, even lesser and not-at-all extents has sired its unfair share of plumpage. Afooting is now mandatory lest I go the way of Pfidze... FATZE... I am made queasy by my heretofore neglect of this ripe wordplay....

An hour(ish) shorter than the lousily new norm is this week’s episode. Lest I be accused of hypocrisy (forget the “lest”, Pfidze actually dared vaunt such impudence - I delight in language, SHOOT ME!), I shall display my dexterity in pith and restrict this blurb to a mere 100 words. Not only will ye be plentifully apprised of one’s biography, the bulletin will be blazoned with one’s trademark lexe...

Under the Janus moon of this very annum, I renounced my allegiance to the Conservative party. Erroneously, I logicked ‘t’was the caprices of the Tories that contrived the unique architecture what engendered my senescent mate being hospitalised. I allowed petty animus and a sense of private betrayal to cloud my reasoning. Now allow me to concisely explain why and how receipt of my first jab is not...

I’m given to understand that this episode of the Funfiltered podcast is especially topical, with my oral labourers covering an array of diverse, hot-button issues. Even if that array is regarded through the unidimensional lens of disappointment. Superficial glances* at social media expose ever more cess being flung into the pit. I don’t how much more cess the pit can take, assuming that the pit is...

Episode 41, eh? 40-ruddy-1. Who’d’ve thought (66.666?% of) the boys would make it this far? For one, I. The podcast is free to produce, not to mention simplified by a robust rejection of rigour. Funlimited Entertainment, parent company of the Funfiltered podcast (what’s so damned confusing about that, by the way?), was to be a monolith of amusements. Motion pictures, podcasts, musicks. Et al. For...

The government put my friend in the hospital. I have been a devoted Tory my whole life and, now having renounced that allegiance, I feel “safe” admitting to it. The infobahn is not the natural habitat of the Conservative. So I trust that your embrace will be warm as I turn coats. Though the evidence is somewhat contrary. This past year, we have been inundated with a novel lexicon - one whose terms...

It’s Christmas. Whoopee. What do you want from me? Seriously. What do you want? If you deigned to communicate, I might have a target at which to aim. As it is, I discharge my arrows blindly into the murky yonder, awaiting the Word. A yelp to announce a misfire. Co-ordinates for adjustment. A “hip hip hooray” for a bullseye. Be there even souls proximate? This Archer knows not. All He can say for c...

Ed-Bo. Edders. Steady. It was by these names and more that I never referred to Eddie Boylett. As a sobriquet, “Eddie” is perfectly effective and the suggestion that I adopt any variants to forge a frivolous fraternity is one at which I hiss. HISS, I say! Eddie has elected to move on from the Funfiltered podcast. And so one has been compelled to cogitate: what morphemes can one offer by way of fare...

Since the commission of this podcast in late 2019, I have wasted an ungodly number of ticks and tocks apologising for it. In that unrelenting carcinogenic spirit, welcome to this, FunFil’s nominally Halloween expulsion #2, accruing a week+ worth of obsolescence and containing, as per, little attendant relevance. Then again, if October is now to be nauseatingly accepted as “Spook Month”, I’m sure y...

Oh, for God's sake. My repeated warnings have fallen on deaf ears. Granting you operational leeway has produced nothing but dung in my lap. And my abusive e-mails have clearly gone unheeded (or otherwise docked undeclared in your spam folder, adding a cherry gob of spit to the caking dung). CONSIDER THIS YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL WARNING. I shan't clarify how many steps constitute this disciplinary proc...