1. Found Magazine. I like this one:

2. Sarah Palin is … Head of Skate. I predict that we’ll look back and view the fact that this wasn’t an actual film as the greatest Palin-related tragedy of all.

3. Oh and of course

This headline on the BBC grabbed me

Designer vagina trend ‘worrying’

Indeed, the prevalence of knock-off designer vaginas is a cause for concern. Only this week Customs anti-piracy officials seized at least 100,000 counterfeit designer vaginas hidden behind a consignment of duvets on a lorry that arrived in Dublin Port.

During tonight’s Newsnight on BBC2, during a Paxman interview of a couple of politicos (gentleman and lady, sadly I missed the introductions) at the Labour party conference. He was gauging their reaction to a speech by the foreign secretary, David Milliband. Paxman enquired of the lady as to her opinion of the timbre of the speech. She replied:

He didn’t give it the fortissimo.

I found this on The Chancer, an apparently ‘banned’ clip from Star Trek TNG wherein Data muses on the IRA and terrorism. I bet it’s even more banned now. Of course, the ma was Irish.

Today, I watched the “classic” British spacefihorror movie, ‘Lifeforce‘. To put it bluntly, this 1985 production is the greatest movie of all time, at least in that it contains all other scifi and horror movies. It has alien vampires; zombies; space-flight; soldiers; masochist nurses; regular nudity; scientists with a grip on history and literature; an institute for the criminally insane; shapeshifting; psychic connections; flashy optical effects; and flying furniture, all wrapped up in neat Golan-Globus package (a sure sign of quality).

The film is at its finest in the second act, after the vampiress alien escapes London’s space research centre. She stalks the city and environs consuming the life-energy of various disposable characters. However the heroes give chase, as an officer of the SAS; an astronaut; and the Home Secretary, Sir Percy, track her psychic energy (using some telepathy) to the aforementioned institute for the criminally insane, where they beat a confession out of a masochist nurse, hypnotise the possessed director of the institute, and lose the Home Secretary to the hazards of telekinetically-powered flying furniture. Sadly, upon their return to London soldier and astronaut find the city overrun with zombies. What can possibly save the day? Why a little rumpy-pumpy with a she-beast-space-creature, of course.

A mere description of the film cannot do it justice. It has that curious mix of Golan-Globus overreaching, attempting the grand but achieving only the absurd; that peculiar britishness of hammer horror; a healthy dose of classism; proper dispersal of boob; and white polo kneck jumpers. If one wishes to hold onto one’s eyeballs, this would certainly be an appropriate accompaniment.

Since we got two kittens and then called them Cagney and Lacey, I’ve been looking up old episodes.

I was only allowed to stay up for the music when it originally aired, so I caught up with repeats on RTE in the 90s. There’s only one episode - one scene even - that I vividly remember, and here it is, 6 minutes of self-contained and still actually pretty good melodrama.

It’s not embeddable so click on the kittens to watch.