You can imagine my surprise when I received an email from Mr Stan Tyrone. Yes, THE Stan Tyrone, a celebrated philosopher, philanthropist, and Booker-award winning novelist of the modern age. A man so bestowed with glorious achievements and ungodly fame, that even inquiring as to who he is is not merely thoughtless and rude, but Treason against the Commonwealth, which is instantaneously to be punished with Death By Stuffing of Plum Pudding.
"Why does this higher being talk to me?!" I stammered, as does a little boy who has become enraptured into the world of the Candy Shop (Not a purveyor of candy, but rather the song "Candy Shop" by 50 Cent, which is quite terrifying) And, oh so tenderly, I clicked.
I read your review of the R4 dvd release of Death In Brunswick on
As the smiley face does pertain, Lord Tyrone is upset with me. And as the rest of the message does convey, it is an issue related to the favoured place of intellectual discourse, The Internet Movie Database. As far as I know, the only debating forum where Ritalin is handed out at the door.
Unusually, even though he says my review can be found HERE he doesn't provide a link, but rather reproduces my 'review' or, rather, my recount of traumatic experiences which isn't a review at all. Presuming that my gigantic fanbase hasn't been stalking me everywhere on the internet, I reproduce it again HERE, making it the most-circulated of my work ever.
I've never had a DVD this badly encoded before. The thing died on me
this morning when I was trying to watch it, small glitches all the way
through the film, but then at the scene where the Turkish thugs have him
in their car, it was lucky to be showing two frames a second. I cleaned
the disc three times to try and remedy this, but it kept stuffing up and
eventually refused to play at all - not even the menu.
Needless to say I subsequently destroyed it and will be avoiding
anything released by Umbrella like the plague.
I will admit, it is not my most lucid and detailed work. But it is all true. The disc did die on me. I WILL be avoiding releases from Umbrella (the produce of Mr Andrew Mechano, a robotic creature formed entirely from the poor-man's Technix) like the bubonic plague, something that I do indeed avoid a lot.
Perhaps I should have gone into detail about how happy I was to have the DVD before it stopped working? Perhaps I should have mentioned how funny the movie was? Or said how clear the picture was when it was in evidence.
But Mr Tyrone, it seemed, was angry.
Have to say what a load of Crap
Some people may talk this as a derogotary remark to myself. But no - look at the very deliberate Capitalisation of the word 'crap'. He is quite specifically referring to the man 'Crap', a member of the German Neue Deutsche Härte group 'OOMPH!', thus reinforcing his close-ties to the movers and shakers of the world in a bid to intimidate me.
I have viewed the dvd a number of times
now and have had no problems like you stated here,
For an equivalent example - there have been scandals in New South Wales involving two bridges recently built over hollow ground. In flooding they have collapsed. This issue could only effect two motorists for each occurence. Because it only affected a millionth of NSW motorists, does that mean it is not a problem?
Not entirely analogous but at the same time one of the principla tenets of all modern law is the fact that 'absence of evidence is not evidence of absence'. Especially when that 'absence' is ascertained by sitting on your arse and watching a Sam Neill film endlessly.
I think you made some
of this crap up eh?
Here Tyrone stops playing softly and effectively slaps me across the face by scandalously suggesting that I am not only a liar, but also a liar trying to undermine the good work of Australian companies.
The only reason I can think of him to believe this is if he believes me to be some sort of insurgent working on behalf of the big distributors. Well, fair enough. It happens. Not usually on a message board that absolutely nobody will read for a film that would be entirely obscure if it weren't for John Clarke constantly referencing it when interviewed, but it does happen.
It also happens that 'bad discs' are made as well. Sometimes it is a freak occurence. I know that I had a copy of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring where the film had a small but horrible glen glob in the first Isengard scene. Slowly it grew worse.
But this was different. Every second or third scene had a minor glitch. I could ignore it. Until the film started skipping. Then it became irritating. But I was caught in the story so didn't want to stop. And then, as I say, it stopped playing at all.
Anyway I have added you to my Ignore list on IMDB.com, you are, my
friend, a FUCKWIT!!
Wait a minute, this is not the work of Lord Stanley Tryone the IIIrd, Poet Laurieat of Beijing and Moscow. That sentence contains two clear contradictions and a turn-of-phrase so banal and jejune (the old 'you are, my friend, a FUCKWIT' chestnut, first uttered by Pausanias of Sparta to Xerxes on his deathbed in the year 398 BC and quoted by everyone of Pausanian I.Q and disposition for the next 2000 years but abandoned from the lexicus populi in 1872 after Oscar Wilde declared it 'didn't have legs') that it could not have been uttered with him.
This email, then, comes from a complete 'random', as the term is.
In that case, sir, fuck you. I fucking get a Christmas present that is so badly encoded I can't watch it, that has mislabled buttons on menus, that has a commentary that won't play, that won't be cleaned at all, and I decide, well, I'll make this post here just in case somebody is thinking of buying it. All I get is you, taking a break from sucking Sam Neill off in his dungeon and being given leave to use the computer, and go through his back catalogue of completely forgettable films that, somehow, made him a middling to minor 'name' in the movie business, save for the parochial market where sad, obsessive limpets decreed him a good because he once got paid five figures. You scour these boards, searching desperately for some to crush with your near-developed communication skills, and pounce on somebody not attacking the man himself, but the absolutely shithouse DVD which managed to be worse than all the endless vanilla releases shat out of the United Kingdom every year. And you decide I am the fuckwit?
You do not have the wit of a fuck. You gaze at the fuck in envy of it's mighty intellectual prowess. The fuck tricks you into working for it at slave labour rates. When they make a sitcom based on the life of the fuck (If they haven't already - that seems to be the whole premise of Skins) you shall play Baldrick to the Blackadder of fuck.
Hmm, one more line to this rectal discharge of an email.
OH MY!!! HOW ORIGINAL!!! SAYING GOODBYE IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE! I HAVE MET MY MATCH!
Jamata, auf weiderhesen, au revoir, aloha, adiós, arriverderci, tot ziens, tchau, and fuck off you worthless fucking manwhore, go fucking travel back in time to drown yourself at birth as it is your only chance to appease the gods for your fucking offensive existence.
For what it's worth, the first hour or so of Death in Brunswick was pretty good. Oh, and now I can get back to checking my mail...