Le weekend

[millionreasons]

Friday: Out to the Bailey for sweetcorn fritters and chilli sauce and to the Buffalo bar for twee indie pop. The starter is The Fischers who have none of the sweet sleaze of their former existence as tompaulin and have gained a rockiness that doesn’t serve them well. The hors d'oeuvre, Esiotrot, have yet to realise that the 90s have happened and have bowl-cuts and cardigans and sing sub-Pastels-esque ditties about girlfriends. I can't decide if they're brilliant or terrible. The main course, My Sad Captains, pass me by in my desire for gin and gossip and avoiding the attentions of the good-looking but drunk man dancing too near. The sweet and delicious desert is Airport Girl who alternate between dark, bitter country songs and light, frothy, sugary pop tunes.

We spend the next 2½ hours dancing, and I learn the following things:

Ø The guitar bit at the end of Kennedy is far far too long, at least for unfit dancers like myself
Ø The Velvelettes are easier to dance to than the JAMC
Ø I cannot skank, even for ready money
Ø It’s preferable to dance to something that makes you feel 16 (She Bangs The Drums) than to something that reminds you of being 29 (White Stripes).
Ø Little Richard is still amazing, even after 50 years
Ø A bottle of beer can easily replace a bouquet of flowers for twirling around the head to the Smiths.

Saturday: House viewings. In the evening we watch Breakfast at Tiffanys. To my astonishment, David has never seen this film. Whilst watching it, I realise several things: There is more Blake Edwards in it than Truman Capote; the three stand out scenes (the party, the theft of the masks from the Five and Dime, and the cat in the rain) are still wonderful; a sad, or ambiguous, ending would have been artistically better, but you still root for Fred and Lulamae to fall in love; and as good a comedienne as the original choice for Holly, Marilyn Monroe, was, it would have been a completely different film and would probably not hold the classic status that it does.

I watched the strangest film a couple of weeks ago called The Girl Can't Help it, starring Jayne Russell, Marilyn's big rival in the busty blonde stakes back in the ‘50s. Although one can't help but be distracted by Russell's unfeasible bosom, she too was a clever comedienne, if not a great actress. The film was odd in that it was a rom-com in the 40s/50s Hollywood style but at the same time trying to be a Youth Film. The aspiring starlet was not trying to break into the movies but into the music business, which was presented as being just as cut-throat as the film business. There are cameos from Julie London, The Platters, Eddie Cochran and Fats Domino – gone were Rodgers and Hammerstein songs, in was rock ‘n’ roll. Made in ’56, it seemed to be on the very cusp between the old classic glamorous world of Hollywood and the new bright shiny world of pop music. The aspiring starlet’s boyfriend and agent are shown as old-fashioned by the former being a 1930s-style gangster and the latter only having one act - a jazz band.

Sunday: out to the Dairy to watch Nottm Forest to lose in an embarrassing fashion to Chels. Still, not as bad as their defeat earlier in the season to Accrington Stanley. Who are they? Exackly.