French Cinema and the next French President - the clues

I love France. I've never been to France. But I love it. One of the first people I ever dated was called Paris. She wasn't the famous one. Nor even a near relative. She looked nothing like her as a matter of fact and I don't think she even spoke the language. And we didn't actually date. It was more like a stalking scenario. But innocent stalking - at least on her part. She wore a scarf. And she had a beautiful voice. I remember one time I was following her down a street and she turned and shouted at me. Rude things. Really hateful things. But she shouted them beautifully - you know - at least until the cops turned up.

Anyway I was thinking about the other Paris recently - not the blonde one - that's another story - a whole other night in the cells - no the one with the big building in the middle. France Paris. Paris France. They're having an election - you know this stuff - which is great because it's fantastic to see democracy spread from the USA to at least one country. Three candidates. A small one with hair who's already in the job. A slightly less short Commie one with no hair who's not. And a good looking woman who would probably be a shoe in for a job presenting at Fox if only she could speak American - you know - WITHOUT the accent. Obviously these guys are French so the woman's out which leaves two little people slugging it out in 'Le ring'.

Now obviously if this was back home or even in Canada the guy with hair would get the job, but the French don't seemed too bothered with slap tops in their White House and with the Commie guy well ahead in the polls it seems that the shorter one is out - or is he?

My passion has always been for cinema. Particularly French cinema. Have you ever seen the Hunchback of Notre Dame? I loved that film as a kid. I drove my Mom and Dad whacko watching it and along with Superman 2, View to a Kill and French Kiss it ranks among my all time favorite movie experiences from that country. I think the clue to the result lies in a close analysis of these cultural exports.

So - what lessons can we learn? Well In Superman 2 the man of steel loses his powers but gets them back just in time to save the world. In A View to a Kill Roger Moore, clearly wearing a wig, plays a tired old ham who never looks very convinced by what he's doing and loses the role that he was struggling to play to a younger man (Timothy Dalton). And in the Hunchback of Notre Dame an ugly twisted monster with a strange addiction to campomology (bell ringing) gets the girl and wins the day. At least I think he does - I never made it to the end. Actually I never saw French Kiss either. I just FF'd through for the dirty bits. There were none.

Basically Sarkozy is the The Bell Ringing Superman 2 - as played by Timothy Dalton - and I have a HUNCH he's gonna win.

The Life and Mismusings of KelvinJ. Patterson: Why badly behaved kids should be branded with hot ...

The Life and Mismusings of KelvinJ. Patterson: Why badly behaved kids should be branded with hot ...: I was bitten by a small child last week. I was standing in a queue for donuts at Krispy Kreme, trying to remember if Steve in HR wanted Ras...

Why badly behaved kids should be branded with hot irons.

I was bitten by a small child last week.  I was standing in a queue for donuts at Krispy Kreme, trying to remember if Steve in HR wanted Raspberry White Chocolate or Strawberry Gloss and whether a glazed Apple Cinnamon counted as one of my five a day, when this kid came up to me and bit me on my leg. Twice. "That's for The Slap" he said and walked back to his Mom, or possibly his Dad, it was hard to tell. At any rate, you know, it was safe to say that the individual was an adult who had eaten a lot. More than a lot. Possibly someone else's as well. And he or she had long hair. A lot of people have long hair nowadays. Men and women.

I went over and complained, but it just shrugged and said 'Kids'. 

I said: "What does that mean? Your son just bit me - on the leg - twice. May need a jab man. Has he been near dogs? And anyway, quite apart from anything else why has your kid been watching The Slap dude? It's rated frickin R man. Are you listening to me hairy? Are you fucking listening?"

I never completed my order, the police turned up and there was some unpleasantness. You know, but I think I had a case. A good case. I don't even look like Sophie Okonedo or Alex Dimitriades, or whoever it is that slaps the kid. And I'm pretty sure it was post watershed. I'd look it up, but I've been busy.

Anyway there's an MP (it's like a Congressman) in the UK called David Lammy. He suggested last week that it might be time to start smacking kids again. I'd go further - I think we should brand them - with hot irons. You know, there could be a variety of phrases like 'Don't bite people' and possibly 'Eat your greens' or 'stop hanging around by Costcutter spitting' or 'Get a job you git'. The great thing with branding irons is that it pretty much lasts a lifetime. And it's cheaper than prison. Think about it. It makes sense doesn't it.

Christmas

What is Christmas? I never know. Is it baubles or presents, or those little candies you get that have like tiny wrapping and you untie them and like then realise that they're totally unfulfilling. I think we can all feel like that sometimes.

I knew a girl once. Auburn hair. Nice socks. An interest in nature. A reasonable ability to cook Ragu Bolognese. A love of kittens. She was called Brenda and she gave me a Christmas that I never forgot. Not yet anyhow. She broke my heart. And my legs. It was a careless accident involving a felled condiment drawer and a jack russell called Steven. It's a long story, but suffice to say, my love for her never died - and neither should yours. For whoever you love. Unless you love Brenda. In which case 'fuck you' and you know, I know where you live Gerd.

Anyway. A lot of people say that Christmas has lost its edge. That the things that make it what it used to be have gone. That a cynical new age has led to a lack of Johnny Mandel re-issues. Diet Coke. The be-cheapening of faith by the likes of Stephen Dawkings.

What was it that the Wise men bought Jesus? Gold, Frankenstein and Murr. I never knew what Murr was and, you know, I'm so busy with my dissertation on 'Hitler and his dog' that I haven't really time to find out, but I think it's a kind of scent. And to me - that is the true meaning of Christmas. Smells. The whiff of fur. The stench of treacle. A rustic fire and a Jack russell called Steve whimpering with fear. So maybe the message this Christmas is to 'smell more'. I think the baby Jesus would like that.

Merry Christmas.

KJP

Why Leonard Cohen is never going to be Celine dion no matter how hard he tries

I never met a Canadian I didn't like. Canada has given the world so many things. Canadian Maple Syrup. Mounted Policemen. Elks. The Queen. Bryan Adams. Ryan Adams. Grizzly Adams. And of course the very considerable vocal talents of Celine Dion. PROBLEM. I was in a pub  in Covent Gardem with some of my team on Friday night and in that team there is a Canadian called Adam. He had drunk quite a few pints of Nun's Ear and he and I got into a discussion about the merits of different pop acts. He swore that Leonard Cohen was a bigger talent than Celine and that Celine hadn't even written My Heart will Go On. "That may be so" I responded "But at least she can sing. Leonard Cohen sounds like a man who can't sing singing." That quietened him. That put a flea in his ear. I hate Canadians most times.

Lovelorn

There's a girl who gets on my bus. She's a - I dunno - there's something about her. Sometimes she says things like - "Excuse me" or "Sorry". What's she apologizing for? I love seeing her and she has these amazing hats. Like last week on Friday it was a green one. She gets off of the bus at New Cross and catches the train. I don't know where she goes from there. Sometimes I kinda like to fantasize that I follow her and see but I'm not a pervert so I don't. I guess sometimes the Lord's gotta great sense of humor!!!!!!!! And wisdom. He's got a lot of wisdom too.

Why Paris Hilton is no Cameron Diaz

I love people. They are born and when they begin to talk they say amazing things. Often. Some don't of course. I love the thought of never having to impress a lady with my body. I know that my headspace is my innermost secret and that time brings most solutions. But Paris Hilton you are a privelidged lady and I think you should stop cussing CAmeron Diaz forethwith, she is an ethnic minority and a person in her own write. SO STOP IT.