CONCIERGE: Good evening, may I see your invitation?
Hmm, we don’t appear to have you on the list.
Ah, here it is, number 194 – Palestine?
New here, are you?
Jolly good.
Do you have err…
…it’s, ahem, customary to bring a gift.
You know, as a gesture of good will.
Call it a donation for joining the “club”.
Oh, I don’t know, anything.
Do you have any oil?
Oil’s usually a good opening gambit. Great for a gaining an ally or two. I could do you a U.S. aircraft carrier if you’ve got any lying about the place.
I see. No matter.
Gold? Gold always goes down well with our American friends. They do love a bit of bling. I can get you a convoy of Humvees for a goldmine?
Nope. Okey-dokey.
How about minerals? Cassiterite? Wolframite? Coltan? For some Apache attack helicopters.
Just a few AK-47s and some novelty shemaghs, with… wait, what’s this? Ooh, look - a cutesy little picture of Yasser Arafat saying “In your face Israel.”
I suppose they’ll have to do. Put them over there next to those Syrian RPGs.
Just keep quiet and take a seat at the back, next to Egypt and Libya.
Next…
…ahh, the Democratic Republic of Congo. Usual table, Sir?
Okay, we had my top 10, (ahem), love films of all time. So, I thought it was about time to man-up a bit and post – what I think – are the 10 best Sci-fi movies of all time – ever. To infinity and back.
Now, you may beg to differ with my chosen cinematic behemoths. And, if you do, you’d be wrong. However, feel free to enlighten me to any classics I’ve missed.
Cop hunts robots. Falls in love with robot. He might be a robot.
“Open the pod bay doors, Al.” A classic from Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke. “Open ‘em yourself, yer lazy get.”
Epic empirical wars over life-giving spice [oil].
Things go frustratingly awry for Sam in this bureaucratic dystopia.
Man goes back in time to protect mother of future leader of resistance against robots. Pursued by Terminator, our hero ends up being the dad of the future leader. Eh? So, if he didn’t go back in the, oh forget it.
Rescue ship finds missing spaceship that can create black holes. Unfortunately, the black hole it created led to hell.
I’m still biting my nails over this deep-space thriller.
Who says sci-fi can’t be funny? Worth a view just for the orgasmatron.
Well, I liked it. No nasty aliens. No blood and guts. Just ethical questions about god and science.
Nothing is real, you know. Should be a documentary rather than a movie.
Filed under Comedy, Film, Ideas, Inspiration, Screenplays
True, it may not be as ambitious and world-changing as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s. But it’s a dream nonetheless.
To be honest, I wasn’t going to post about it until I felt I was in more of a position to realise this dream. But short of winning the Euro Millions Lottery, it aint going to happen without some serious philanthropic backer.
So, what is my dream?
Well, it’s to build a School of Arts for under-privileged kids.
Kids from low socioeconomic backgrounds in large inner-city estates. Kids who might not ordinarily get the opportunity to explore the more creative aspects of their nature.
What good would that do society? We’re in a depression, don’t you know!
Problems in every field of human endeavour are virtually always solved by creative thinking. Even the great Albert Einstein said so himself. Creativity allows us to look at problems from different angles and apply new thinking to solve problems.
Moreover, I don’t see it as a school that produces an unprecedented amount of artists. But an unprecedented amount of creative thinkers – whichever vocation they choose to pursue later in life. Whether it be mathematics, science, business, computers, product design, or economics.
And yes, a few more more artists too. And what’s wrong with that? Art is seen as a dirty word in this country. If I tell people I write poetry, they shift uneasily in their seats. If I said I write poetry in Ireland the response would be a polite smile and a nod toward the back of the queue.
Do you think the first rocket flight to the moon was dreamed up by a scientist?
Sure, scientists and engineers made it a reality. But it is creative people who come up with the ideas and the original solutions of how they can be achieved.
What will the kids do?
The school will develop and encourage creative thinking and self-expression.
It will foster, nurture and encourage exploration of the arts in all its many and varied forms including: painting, drawing, sculpture, ceramics, poetry, literature, screenplays, theatre, drama, dance, music, design, digital arts, film, photography, humanities, languages, and the classics.
Where is this school?
I quite fancy the idea of transforming a derelict Victorian mill. There’s something quite ironic about that. Though it certainly wouldn’t be a prerequisite. (Salts Mill in Bradford is a good example.)
Initially, an inner-city campus close to urban populations that have a high level of low socioeconomic families. Basically, anywhere across the Manchester – Huddersfield – Halifax – Leeds belt. It’s also sufficiently ‘central’ enough to accommodate children from further afield.
It would also be good to have a rural retreat – somewhere like the Lake District, Peak District or the Yorkshire Dales, where children can attend week-long courses/classes which double up as a holiday.
I would also like to open an international sister school in India or Sri Lanka where people from distinctly different cultures can share ideas. These schools could also participate in exchange programmes. (Then subsequently, even further afield: China, South America, South Asia.)
What about science subjects?
This school wouldn’t be a replacement for existing schools and their curricula – more of an extension to them.
Would it exclude people from non low socioeconomic backgrounds?
Not at all. But opportunities for middle-class families in other schools are much more accessible, regardless of ability.
Intake for low income kids would be based as much on desire and enthusiasm to participate rather than ability. There would be a limited number of places for more affluent children. Sort of like Eton – in reverse.
What kind of courses will it run?
Day-long workshops for visiting schools.
After-school classes.
Week-long courses. (Which would include accommodation for traveling students.)
Weekend classes.
Full-time sixth form courses. (A-levels.)
Masters and PhD courses.
What ages are we talking about?
Key Stage 3, up to, and including, sixth form.
Undergraduate, Masters and PhD courses.
What else does the school have?
Apart from studios and classrooms?
There’d be accommodation for students who are visiting from further afield.
Cafe / restaurant.
Gallery to promote and sell students’ work.
Gallery featuring independent contemporary and traditional art.
Masterclasses from guest lecturers.
State of the art library. (Both on and off-line.)
Book shop.
Art-house cinema.
Who will pay for it?
Well, that’s the biggest question of all.
A like-minded philanthropist would be nice.
Arts Council grant.
Lottery funding.
A percentage of Masters and PhD students’ tuition fees could go towards funding.
Sales from restaurant and galleries.
Fundraising / donations.
An Ideal World School of Arts.
Salts Mill, Bradford.
David Hockney at Salts Mill.
Salts Mill interior.
Studio space?
Any constructive criticism and advice about how to get something like this funded and off the ground would be greatly appreciated.
Filed under Advertising, Animation, Architecture, Art, Books, Brand, Cartoons, Ceramics, Children, Children's books, Children's stories, Classical music, Comedy, community, Contemporary Arts, Creativity, Dance, Design, Digital, Disability, Economy, Education, Film, Haiku, Ideas, Illustration, Innovation, Inspiration, Inventions, Literature, Music, Philosophy, Photography, Poetry, Radio, Screenplays, Sculpture, Short stories, Writing
Jimmy Savile
A true story…
Please believe me when I say that I am in no way trying to make light of the extremely serious sexual allegations directed toward the late Jimmy Savile.
This is merely my own personal anecdote about when I met him at LGI, (Leeds General Infirmary).
I was about 20 years old at the time and sitting in an A&E cubicle waiting to be stitched up after accidentally running through a glass door. (How do you accidentally run through a glass door? I hear you ask.)
Well, I was at work. It was almost 6.30 p.m. on a Friday evening and I had to get an ad out of the door. Literally.
I was running full pelt down the corridor to deliver some artwork into the gloved hands of a courier waiting in reception.
Unfortunately, as they were ‘serviced’ offices and it was after 5.30 p.m. the double swing doors at the end of the corridor had been locked by the security guard.
I thrust out my left hand, presuming the door would give at my mere touch. Instead, I crashed through the glass doors taking one of them completely off its hinges, leaving the other hanging precariously on its lower hinge.
Suffice it to say, I was taken to A&E at the LGI.
I had lacerations on my legs, arms, torso and head.
I had been temporarily patched up, and was awaiting a doctor to stitch up my veins before the nurses could stitch up my skin.
I was sitting on a gurney with my legs dangling like a bored schoolboy, when the curtain to my cubicle parted and there appeared the beaming face of Jimmy Savile.
“Now then, y’all right, sunshine?” he asked in his inimitable Yorkshire accent.
I stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Then down at my blood-soaked bandages -
“Do I look alright to you?” I offered in response.
With that, his head quickly disappeared and the curtain was swiftly pulled back into place.
That was my first, and only meeting, with Sir Jimmy Savile.
Addendum:
I did write to Jim’ll Fix It when I was about ten. I asked if he could fix it for me to play for Leeds Utd against Man Utd and if I could score a hat-trick. I never did get a reply. I reckon Man U bottled it.
Just a quickie today.
A lovely little TVC for Carlton Draught.
Parodying a bank heist, it’s choc full of all the usual car chase clichés you’d find in a blockbuster.
Watch out for it at the awards festivals.
I’ll give it a coveted Cross of Iron for starters.
Great fun. I wish I’d done it.
Credits:
Clemenger BBDO, Melbourne
Creative Chairman: James McGrath
Executive Creative Director: Ant Keogh
Copywriter: Richard Williams
Art Director: Anthony Phillips
Executive Producer: Sonia von Bibra
Production Company: The Sweet Shop
Director: Steve Ayson
Production company Executive Producer – Wilf Sweetland
Production company Producer: Cindy Kavanagh
Cinematographer: Greig Fraser
Production Designer: Robbie Freed
Offline Editor: Jack Hutchings – The Butchery
Final Grade – Edel Rafferty – Method
Online Editor – Nicholas Ponzoni – Fin Design & Effects
Sound Design/Music arranger – Byron Scullin & Cornel Wilczek
Music Supervision – Karl Richter – Level Two Music
Music track – “Thunder in your Heart”
Planning Director: Michael Derepas
Planner: Sam Mackisack
Managing Partner: Paul McMillan
Account Director: Nick Cohen
Account Manager: Brendan Taylor
Carlton Draught
Chief Marketing Officer: Andy Gibson
General Manager of Marketing: Andrew Meldrum
Senior Brand Manager: Alastair McCausland
Assistant Brand Manager: Kirt Daunt
Assistant Brand Manager: Laura King
Mediacom
Media Agency: Mediacom
Director Client Communication Planning: Brett Elliot
Client Communication Planner: Michael Bradley
Filed under Advertising, Brand, Comedy, Creativity, Cross of Iron, Ideas, Strategy
Filed under Advertising, Comedy, community, Creativity, Digital, Ideas, Inspiration, Philosophy, Writing
This is the first in a series of children’s stories about the adventures of Princess Stinky Trumps and her little sister, Princess Bogie Face.
I’ve done a couple of preliminary character sketches for both princesses but would be keen to talk to any illustrators out there who’d be interested in collaborating on the project. (As illustration isn’t my strong point.)
I’d also like any criticism / feedback about what people think of the story. I see it aimed at children between the ages of 3 and 8. I say that, because my daughters and 4 and 6 and they like it.
Princess Stinky Trumps
Princess Bogie Face
The Adventures of Princess Stinky Trumps.
© David Milligan-Croft.
Princess Stinky Trumps is just like any other little girl: sheʼs very cute, very cheeky and she does the stinkiest trumps in the entire universe.
Princess Stinky Trumpsʼ favourite food is – you guessed it – beans on toast. She canʼt get enough of the stuff. She has beans on toast for breakfast, beans on toast for lunch and beans on toast for dinner.
And for supper she has a Brussels sprout sandwich with extra boiled cabbage. Itʼs her poor teddy bears I feel sorry for. They donʼt get a wink of sleep with old Stinky Trumps letting off bottom burps all night.
Princess Stinky Trumps has a naughty little sister called Princess Bogie Face who is always getting up to mischief of one kind or another. If she isnʼt wiping snot on Aunt Sweaty Toesʼ dress, sheʼs flicking greenies at Grandma Burpabit while she has a nap in her rocking chair.
Princess Stinky Trumps likes to do all the things other “normal” little girls do. She likes playing with her dolls, she likes riding her bike, she likes gluing and sticking, she likes going to the park, she likes cuddling up to her little sister on cold winter nights then letting off a right stinker before sneaking into her own bed.
But most of all she likes going on a good old adventure…
PRINCESS STINKY TRUMPS AND THE BOGIE PINCHING WITCH.
Princess Stinky Trumps lives in a beautiful pink palace on the top of a high mountain made entirely of chocolate.
She lives with her little sister, Princess Bogie Face. Her mummy, Queen du Shoppe and her daddy, King Henry Putupwithalot. Or, King Daddy, for short.
She likes to stand out on the balcony and look down at the sparkling lake at the foot of the mountain surrounded by a forest of pink and white cherry blossom trees.
On this particular day, she was leaning over the balcony trying to break a piece of chocolate off the mountain when she spotted her little sister, Princess Bogie Face, on the back of a witchʼs broomstick.
“Sheʼs being bogie-napped!” shouted Princess Stinky Trumps.
But there was no one there to hear her cries for help. Queen du Shoppe was at the shopping mall and King Daddy was vacuuming the palace stairs.
So, quick as a flash, she called for her faithful pink unicorn pegasus thing-a-mi-bob and leapt into the saddle.
“Follow that witch, Cornpeg!” she shouted. And off they flew down the side of the mountain.
She called her Cornpeg because she was part UniCORN and part PEGasus which is a horse with wings.
Cornpeg swooped down the sheer cliff face with Princess Stinky Trumps hanging on to her pink mane for dear life.
They skimmed the surface of the lake and headed into the forest.
“Hurry, Cornpeg, weʼre losing them!” she cried as the witch and Princess Bogie Face disappeared into the thick undergrowth.
“I think this calls for a bit of turbo-charge,” she said as she lifted her bottom out of the saddle and let out an enormous trump: Phrrraaaarrrap apa papp prruuuup phtz.
“Follow that trail of snot!” she shouted to Cornpeg. And off they shot at almost the speed of light, swerving this way and that trying to avoid trees and branches and the occasional bee hive.
Suddenly, they happened upon a clearing in the middle of the forest where a quaint little cottage sat all alone.
“Whoa, Cornpeg,” The Princess whispered.
Princess Stinky Trumps sneaked through the long grass up to the side window of the cottage and peeked inside.
There was her little sister in a cage suspended above a giant bubbling cauldron.
The witch had her back to the window and was busy putting frogs, slugs, snails, worms and cheese into the stew.
“Your snot will make the perfect final ingredient for my Stew a la Bogie,” cackled the witch.
“Oh no,” Princess Stinky Trumps sighed. “Sheʼs going to turn my little sister into stew! Itʼll taste disgusting with all that cheese in it.”
She leaned her back up against the wall and thought as hard as she could.
“Hmm, what to do, Cornpeg?” The Princess pondered. “I know!”
She climbed onto Cornpegʼs back and pulled herself up onto the roof. Clambering up the tiles, she accidentally knocked one off which slid down and landed on Cornpegʼs nose, much to her irritation.
Once at the top, she sat on top of the chimney and, with an almighty squeeze, she let out the biggest trump she had ever done in her life: Pwwwoooooaaaaarrrrrpppapapppapauuuuuurrrrrrrrbuppabuppaprrasspppperfffeeeeeet!
When Princess Bogie Face heard the trump, she knew at once that it was her big sister who had come to rescue her. So, quick as a flash, she stuck a pinky up her nose and pulled out the longest, slimiest trail of snot you have ever seen in your life. And she flicked it through the bars of the cage onto the floor behind of the witch.
The force of the trump, along with the slippery, snotty floor were enough to blow the witch across the tiles and out of the door.
Cornpeg was waiting outside to give her a little boot up the backside and send her flying down the wishing well never to be seen, or heard of, again.
“Nice one, Cornpeg!” shouted the Princess from the roof.
Princess Stinky Trumps gingerly climbed down from the roof and went inside the cottage to set her baby sister free.
“Well, excuuuuuse you,” Princess Bogie Face said.
They hugged each other tightly, but didnʼt hang around too long as the place was absolutely stinking!
They jumped on Cornpegʼs back and flew back to the pink palace on top of chocolate mountain.
When they got home, King Daddy was on his hands and knees scrubbing the courtyard cobbles.
“Oh, hello, my little darlings,” he said cheerily. “What have you two little scamps been up to?”
They slid down off Cornpegʼs back and began to tell King Daddy their tale. “Well it all started when a wicked witch kidnapped Bogie Face…” Princess Stinky Trumps began.
“Now, now, Martha,” said King Daddy “What have I told you about calling Flora, Princess Bogie Face?”
“Sorrrreee, Daddy,” said Princess Stinky Trumps.
“What’s for dinner, Daddy?” asked Princess Bogie Face. “I’ve got a hankering for some stew.”
“Well, I thought we might have cannellini beans in a rich tomato sauce on a baked ciabatta.”
“You mean beans on toast don’t you, Daddy?” said Princess Stinky Trumps.
“Yes, dear, beans on toast.”
“Yippeee!” the two princesses exclaimed.
THE END.
Look out for Princess Stinky Trumps’ next big adventure where she, and her little sister, battle fire breathing kittens and monkey-munching wizards.
Filed under Books, Cartoons, Children, Children's books, Children's stories, Comedy, Ideas, Illustration, Writing
"Go to the light!"
"Go to the light, go to the light!"
"Must go to the light."
"Helloooooo?"
"Anybody there?"
(sigh)
"I'm hungry."
"Me too."
© DMC
Filed under Cartoons, Comedy, community, Contemporary Arts, Ideas
David Milligan-Croft
