Video Village

Greetings from the exicentre. Well. It appears that 2020 is conforming to the imaginative prognostications of young-adult fiction, as well as more traditional scriptural doomsdaiety. This eschatology hogwash don't ruffle my feathers. I've lived by the skin of my wits longer than any so-called "specialist" would hold healthy. And sill I sting. Our fragile frames have forever clung to the crag of th...

If the content of this blurb appears substandard or atypically abridged, the blame falls squarely on Pfidze's recumbent shoulders. LAZY. She has ever-so-graciously condescended to do her job this week and upload as commanded from the comfort of her hostel*. The question radiates: Do I terminate her? Feel free to leave your suggestions in the comments or via mail. I'd print a poll but it would sure...

Howdy. Issued for your indifference (no use prevaricating, is there?) is an ostensible Part 2 and definitive Number 2. If you've been following Funlimited Entertainment religiously*, you may observe that there is little-to-no thematic overlap with Part 1; the podcast was simply cyber-taped in one "über-sesh", as my children assure me is generationally relevant. Those mischievous little chimps at t...

Good morning/afternoon/evening*, Flims. Episode 14 is here for your regard. A return to normalcy, or so I was misinformed. Part 1 of 2... I know that the art of conversation has one foot in the grave but these boys make a solid case for out-and-out burial is what a critic could offer. I know that discourse is giving up the ghost but these chaps are testament to an expedited surrender is what someo...

If you're a baker*, flying in the face of received wisdom and flirting aleatorily with the cosmic implications of the number 13, we've struck a dozen. I directed the chaps to gab re: Valentine's Day, but we settled on an embargo until any of them have a love life. Instead, I offer an excerpt from my upcoming (auto)biography†, Still Sings He . This passage details the inaugural intersection of me a...

Unless you're a baker - actually, does that job longer exist? Do you know anyone who claims to be a "baker" for a living? They're probably called "Flour Technicians" these days or something equally obfuscatory - we've hit an official dozen. Angry men x 12. 'Cept the only court here is that of public opinion. Testify.

The egg becomes the tadpole. The tadpole becomes the frog. The proposal becomes the vote. The vote becomes the result. The result becomes the denial. The denial becomes the lollygagging. The lollygagging becomes the submission. The submission becomes the withdrawal. Part 1 becomes Part 2. Part 2 becomes Part 3. Be it amphibian, podcast or farcical bureau-nomic marriage, one must always remember......

Commiserations for that which ails thee and congratulations for surviving to survive it. Once more unto the breach we swoop and, as we do so (affording you as I might the benevolence of presuming your fluency in Shakespeare), I implore you to rise above extracting a nationalist intent from the first clause of this sentence. Okay, I love my country. That isn't a crime yet. It was an innocuous emplo...

And here it is! A return to THE form if not a return TO form. This Part 1 of 3 arrives at 171 minutes... ...Half an hour longer than 2001: A Space Odyssey , Kubrick's epic science-fictional advocacy for Ludditism. ...An hour longer than Sunset Boulevard , Wilder's chilling admonition against the unrestrained ambition of womanhood. ...A mere fifty minutes shorter than the director's cut of Lawrence...

Joyeux Noël , my Funlimentalists. I know, I am not a guileless boob. The precariousness of this fandom moniker has been flagged within my own mind. But it was there and it would be dishonest not to grab it, if only to instantly fling it fro like the political grenade it is. I just wanted you to know what COULD have been and that I had the savvy to present it and then neglect it. I've decided to ca...

Submitted for your consideration is this undeniably 9th entry of the Funfiltered podcast. Revere its persistence. Heed its tenacity. Unless you're a sadist - though if the 'net has implied anything these past few days, it's epidemic masochism - you'll be happy to hear that the Funfiltered boys and I have finally reached a mutual acquiescence. Contracts have been clarified. Expectations have been e...

Behold Episode 8 of the Funfiltered podcast and bask in the collected whiff of its contributors' enduring rejection of public uninterest. This week, the spotlight is shone chiefly on Doctor Who , that most British of televisual institutions. I remember sitting on Pa's lap of a Saturday eve, ingesting the futuristic delights of Hartnell through Baker (Tom), providing if nothing else (but hot diggit...

My PO Box would have me believe otherwise, but just in case any of you were frozen, chops agape, in confusion, at the absence of a podcast last week, the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of the generation gap and the differing attitudes to work on either side of the chasm. I know the imagery is compromised but I've been burning the candle at both ends for what would feel like forever if time...

I apologise for this brief lapse in landlordiness, but the lady of the moment has yet to respond to any of my postings. MAN SEEKING WOMAN, 35-40, EYES THAT IMPLIED CONFIDENCE WITHOUT BEING OBNOXIOUS: I was sitting in the upstairs waiting area of the doctors' surgery last Tuesday. I was the chap holding a sample of his urine in a vial. As my name was called over the automated system, your infant re...

Despite insistence, this episode of the podcast gets all sombre as the boys desperately reach for integrity. Frankly, I feel that I've lost control of them. At every turn, they cut corners, disregard my direction and scrounge for loopholes in their contracts by interpreting it literally. They are as dirty Geordie TRAMPS, combing madly for pennies on a pissy Saturday cobblestone. So please allow me...

Welcome to this nominally Halloween edition of the podcast. Within/upon(?) this episode, the boys begin by adhering conservatively to my brief, before abandoning all commitment to theme and quarrelling over the frivolous. As per their contract, however, which stipulates that 50% of all oratory intercourse must comply with my "theme assignments", I am obligated to retain their services. 'What is th...

I listened to half of this episode in the waiting room of the doctors' surgery. The episode is an hour and twenty-three minutes long. Half of that is forty minutes (thereabouts). Standards have dropped in healthcare. The receptionist had psoriasis on her elbow and that hardly instils confidence. What's more (or less), the screens cycling through the same slides on repeat vacillate zealously betwee...

Feast your consciousness on this blessedly abbreviated sonic ejaculation*. The concision of the episode, in tandem with the cancellation of my capoeira evening class due to ringworm, meant that I had the time to listen. And, on reflection, my retort would be, 'Maybe so, but at least they're consistent.' *So many words have erroneously fallen into disrepute or otherwise atrophied with misuse. "Ejac...

Recline and apprehend the indulgence of three adult males*. I told the boys to bar no holds, take no prisoners and conceptually frolic. And, if at all possible, to make no enemies. This is what they delivered...‡ Expect "spoilers" for everything discussed. If "spoilers" upset you or if anything else in the podcast upsets you, take stock. Elsewhere, there's poverty. *Future episodes will be shorter...

This songbook requires no foreword.