I got the rest of the Hitler photo shoot through today from the incredible
Steve Brown and there's some amazing shots in there. I have provided a sample of them for your delectation and for any Nazi/comedy fetishists to masturbate over - it is only good for people who have a fetish for comedians dressed as Nazis and there's little enough of this stuff on the internet believe me (mainly just Chaplin in the Great Dictator), so I don't mind them using me for their short term perverse pleasure. Though in the long term please seek professional help. You are evil and wrong.
I think I still prefer the first head shot that I put up a couple of days ago for the poster, but am going to have a little think before I commit. The other poses will make great additional publicity shots. Your views are welcomed, but will ultimately be ignored.
I went to see "The Damned United" tonight. It wasn't as dark or as brilliant as
the book, and much more of a love story between Clough and Taylor than an examination of the demons that drove them or the Shakespearean style tragedy that his life was to become. But both Sheen and Spall are brilliant in it. Sheen is just remarkable at capturing the people he plays and at times it was just like Clough was up there doing it himself. Only once did I spot David Frost struggling to appear and once or twice Tony Blairs, but I think I love Michael Sheen as much as I love Brian Clough. My fetish is clearly actors dressed as football managers and if Sheen is prepared to live in character as Clough for the rest of his life, then I will happily marry him. That's a genuine offer Michael (though I will be calling you Brian from the moment the contract begins), so please consider it carefully. You will have to give up your own personality and life, but in return you will get a lifetime of man love from me. It's a fair exchange I think.
Perhaps I like Sheen so much because of my own uncanny ability to inhabit whichever character I choose to become - though admittedly I can only do this in photographic form and only, so it seems, with Hitler and maybe Charley Boorman. And a fat Michael J Fox. And Dom Jolly. You never know people might make a biopic of all of them and then I will be as famous as Sheen. Except that once I open my mouth and can only do my own voice for all of them, then people might be less impressed.
The best thing about the film though was that I managed to defraud the Odeon in Camden. When I got there I was offered regular seats for £9 each or Premier seats for £11 a piece. On the chart I was shown the cinema seemed very small and I couldn't imagine there would be two pounds worth of advantage to sitting in the row they indicated or the one behind. But in any case I had a cunning plan.
We'd gone out for dinner before the film and returned just as it was about to start. The woman at the bottom of the stairs tore our tickets and said "Sit anywhere, but not in a seat with Premier written on the back."
"OK, thanks," I replied, as nice as pie. No one would ever have guessed what evil scheme was going through my brain. I laughed to myself, even within earshot of the gullible fool. My guess was that the woman was relying on us being honest and that no one would come into the cinema to check the tickets, so once we were inside I headed straight for the Premier seats that I had promised not to sit in. And just as I suspected not a soul was there to stop me.
Interestingly there were probably 50 other people in the cinema. None of them had been stupid enough to fall for this tax on vanity and they were all in the ordinary seats. But also interestingly not a single other person decided to disrespect this rule and move into one of the more expensive seats. Did they fear closed circuit TV or being ejected from the cinema? Surely the worst that would happen is that someone would come in and they would feign ignorance and then move to another seat. Maybe they knew something I didn't.
As it happened I didn't mind cheating the cinema out of four pounds (not that I really was, as there is no way I would have paid extra) as the Premier Seats were very average and in no way worth two pounds more. They weren't especially big or luxurious and as I had suspected the cinema was so small that their position gave little advantage either. This is a con perpetrated by the cinema, mainly I would guess on people who are out on early dates with each other and where whoever is buying the tickets wants to impress the person they are with with their profligacy and their willingness to give them the best.
We arrived just as the film started and so I was fairly secure that we'd get away with the plan, but was slightly freaked out when the house lights did not dim even as the opening credits ran. Had we been spotted? Were the Odeon version of the SAS about to burst in and have us taken out in both senses of the word? Or was the cinema just a bit crap and badly run and they'd forgotten to dim the lights? If they could overlook something like that then surely re-checking tickets was going to be pretty low down on their list. But there was a danger that in coming in to check the light situation they would spot the conspicuous pair in the Premier seats, even though no one had been dumb enough to pay for one.
Luckily a fellow patron went out and informed the staff, who dimmed the lights from outside, earning himself a mini round of applause from the crowd.
As we left the cinema the staff wished us good night. I laughed to myself again. How furious would they be if they had known the sting I had just pulled off?
Not very.
I would imagine they didn't give a fuck, were looking forward to going home and secretly had disdain for both anyone idiotic enough to buy a Premier ticket or anyone who bought a regular ticket and then didn't sit in a Premier seat.
