Novembrrrr

Well, the world continues to implode : financial meltdown, DR Congo erupting again, bombs in India etc.etc. In all this you might be worried that a little bickering about a phone prank by overpaid manchilds might not get the coverage it deserves. Fear not Britain, it's been nicely settled on the front pages for a week, and our justice-seeking journalists have ensured that Mr Brown is aware of the nation's outrage.

(Actually Ian Hislop had a nice little sound bite about how all this complete toss is evidencing democracy in action on Have I got News for you. Catch the repeat if you can, if not for that than for Tom Baker's fantastic hosting).

Out (briefly) on the town last night the conversations pretty much went:
"Well, so what do you think of all this with Ross and Brand?"
"I don't give it a second's thought really"
"Yes, yes of course there are more important things-"
"Yes"
"-*but*, that aside, if we imagine ourselves living within the microcosm of the media world, do you think they should have been fired?"
(Silence as I try and shake the revulsion of imagining myself living within the microcosm of the media world)
But then another guy in the bar started hurling glasses at the barman's face, so everyone rushed to gawp at Real Life for a second. Unluckily for the poor bloodied barman (London Ambulance services and the police were ridiculously quick to respond, hurrah for them on a Friday-night Halloween in Islington. The bouncers were initially more Dawdlers).

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I watched Sunset Blvd for the first time this week. Hey, don't yell, I am but young and have a way to go on the (irritatingly changeable) "films to see before you die" list. Of course, it was fantastic, and of course it emphasised (as if it were needed) just how crap most of the big releases are these days. We all know this already, but it didn't stop us from watching Transformers did it? In literature, music, TV and film there will always be the Art with Depth and the superficial Guilty Pleasure. The trick is trying to keep the balance of right. Recent news items, let alone viewing figures,seem to suggest we're still for style over substance, bowing and scraping for a bit of glamour, our own tragic Norma Desmond.

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It's grey, raining and feels effing cold (by recent British autumnal standards, I'm not saying it's Muscovite conditions out there). I declare that the only effective remedy is an extensive regimen of eating out, more hot Mochas and cake (rather than refrigerated beer with crappy little lime), and evenings basking in the warm glow of the cinema screen. So say we all, haha.