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I’d love to claim that my girlfriend (who is hot and awesome and, even better, real) forced me to see this film. Or that we traded and she agreed to see Wanted if I saw this. Or that I was drugged and/or drunk (preferably and).

Truth is… I wanted to see it. It’s ABBA songs. It’s Julie Walters. It’s Colin Firth and Piers Brosnan. It’s Meryl Streep. It’s Cybil’s friend. It’s some homeless Swede they picked up off the street who doesn’t actually sing at all.

And it’s awesome. It’s stupid, it’s silly, it’s preposterous, it’s forced, fabricated and frankly out of tune half the time. But still. Awesome. Funny and light and full of great songs. If you can’t enjoy this then you are a soulless monstrosity.

Dark Knight’s out soon. That’ll be great. Certainly artistically better than Mamma Mia. But I bet you won’t have as much fun.

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grauniad

grauniad

If I were trying to make excuses I suppose I could say that they’re two countries with two names and the first one starts with ‘S’. Of course the fact that the correct country name appears directly above makes it look even more foolish…

Gordon Brown says ‘Stop Wasting Food’

Loz says ‘Stop Wasting Oxygen’.

So, once again my perspicacity about tennis has struck. Although you didn’t exactly need to be a psychic to predict that the final would be Federer vs Nadal. Anyway, it was bloody brilliant. Even if it had been straight sets to Nadal, the quality of tennis was incredible. The fact that Fed came back from 2-0 down, that Nadal still stayed in there after missing those match points in the 4th set? Pretty Damn Awesome.

A brilliant display of mental strength, physical skill and discipline. Shame about how rare it is to apply all three to an English man, woman or team.

So I went to Henley Royal Regatta which was probably not quite as posh as I was expecting. There were the usual clothing rules and wotnot – blazers, slacks, shirts and ties for men, pretty straightforward. For women, hemlines had to be below the knee (and we saw some 40+ year olds being turned back for straying northwards of this boundary). I could make a joke about skirts and dresses being hiked up as soon as women got inside, but it seems in poor taste. Why this is stopping me, I’m not quite sure.

Anyway, it was an overblown excuse for a piss-up and an Oxbridge reunion. Very little rowing was watched (although what was seemed to be quite competitive) and Pimms was consumed in vast, over-priced quantities. All-in-all it was probably the most middle-class and English experience of my life (which takes in an incredible array of middle-class Englishness).

Oh yeah, best part of the day (apart from the title of this post which is a genuine quote) – in the gents (temporary) loos they had a white board with sports updates and newspapers that you could take to read while on the throne. Outstanding.

OK, so technically there was a bit more rain spotted around in there, but otherwise I was pretty much spot on.

Still, fair play to both. Murray admitted he was out classed – and oh how he was. Nadal was pretty awesome. I really hope him and Federer make the final, should be a classic.

So, I came across Ida Maria on one of the many sprawling forms of Music TV on Sky the other night. Anyway, she’s awesome. Great rocky pop, album’s out at the end of the month. See below:

Not had any album recommendations in a while? Willing to listen to the pointless unheard ramblings of one of only 6.5 billion music listeners?

mwMartha Wainwright – I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too
Vampire Weekend
ttThe Ting Tings – We Started Nothing
zThe Zutons – You Can Do Anything
abAlphabeat – This Is Alphabeat
gcGabriella Cilmi – Lessons To Be Learned
tfThe Fratellis – Here We Stand
wWeezer – The Red Album

and, because Guitar Hero has ruined me:

dfDragonforce

So, tennis, eh? What a cracking sport. I can almost bring myself to care about it a full 2 weeks a year. If you wonder where that is on the scale – below cricket, above snooker, darts and golf. You’ll notice none of those four, technically can be classed as sports (Pease is sophisting himself about cricket).

Anyway, the normal progression for Wimbledon is: pluckyneverheardofpseudoBritishwin, annoyinginsomeway(wimp/Canadian/grumpy)butultimatelynotallthatbadBritishscrapethrough, rain, pluckyneverheardofpseudoBritishloss, annoyinginsomeway(wimp/Canadian/grumpy)butultimatelynotallthatbadBritishbigwinfoolishlyraisingexpectations-ofnation, tabloidpun, rain, annoyinginsomeway(wimp/Canadian/grumpy)butultimatelynotallthatbadBritishbulldogcomebackwin, nationthatshouldknowbetterhysteria, rain, annoyinginsomeway(wimp/Canadian/grumpy)butultimatelynotallthatbadBritishlosstosimianlookinggitwhorepeatedly-executesanddespitelookinglikeafreakisbloodygood, abuseofannoyinginsomeway(wimp/Canadian/grumpy)butultimatelynotallthatbadBritishloser, acceptance, apathy.

Rain.

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i miss your disposition and your strength to see the best in everyone
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