almost witty

In case you’ve missed the videos that are virally spreading across the internet, Matt Damon has apparently been the butt of ABC chatshow host Jimmy Kimmel’s closing jokes. So for the five year anniversary, Kimmel’s girlfriend Sarah Silverman did a music video where she proudly proclaimed she was fucking Matt Damon. And in retaliation, Kimmel proudly proclaimed (with the help of a surprisingly star-studded celebrity choir) that he was fucking Ben Affleck.

Putting the videos online was, obviously, a natural move for the broadcasters. But for all the hip savvy new-medianess that it professes to show, there’s one huge flaw in putting them online.

All the videos are bleeped to buggery, which rather ruins the flow of the song to say the least. But you’d think that on the Internet versions of the songs, you could put the uncensored versions up. Especially considering the YouTube username for one of the videos is imfuckingbenaffleck, which - as far as I can tell - was placed there by ABC staff. But nope, even though you can see the word fucking surrounding the video, and it’s pretty damn obvious what they’re singing (and gesturing) woe betide anyone actually hears the words.

It also shows that for all the good egg that Matt Damon is, he is absolutely hopeless at doing comedy. He gurns hopelessly throughout the video. But for some bizarre reason, Ben Affleck manages to pull it off while wearing a tight lycra top.

Oh yeah, and Americans love hearing celebrities swear. I’m not sure a version with Tess Daly singing I’m Fucking Ant McPharlin would get so many laughs…

Anyway, all together now:

(Yes, it’s a UK blog post NOT about the damn earthquake that may or may not have happened. For the record, I noticed it but thought it was a rumbling truck along the highway)

The bookshops are groaning and heaving under the combined weight of memoirs from strippers, high-class escorts, prostitutes, vigorously sexually active women. There’s so many of the darn things it’s hard to figure out a good one to read.

Fortunately, Oscar has come to the rescue. It turns out that the Oscar-winning screenwriter of Juno’s first book was a stripping memoir.

She blogs. Amusingly, partly about her outrage to find people were selling their shoes based on the fact she wore them to the Oscars. Or something.

So Skarlett isn’t the only clever witty funny - and gainfully employed - person in Los Angeles…

Last night, I settled down to watch the new re-launched BBC Three, complete with new logo, new idents and no blobs. And lest we forget, Lily Allen going chat.

The in-vision continuity announcers certainly made an impact, making you realise you weren’t watching any of the other channels. It certainly sparked feelings of retro nostalgia - but then I’m at the tail-end of BBC Three’s target demographic. Viewers under twenty will probably have no memories of the decades where you saw the person introducing the next programme.

Unfortunately, it soon became very apparent why they were phased out in the first place. Someone you’ve never seen delivering a piece-to-camera about the programme you’re about to watch tends to be very boring visually. Plus I was never sure whether I was seeing genuine viewers talking about the programmes, or paid actors.

But never mind the junctions, what about the programmes?

Tuesday night’s BBC Three started with a whole hour of The Real Hustle in Las Vegas. Which played a lot like The Real Hustle, but with American bystanders instead of British ones. This was followed by Find Me A Face, where two model scouts stalked pretty people in Southern England in the hope of finding a woman with a C-cup bra to front a lingerie advert. So far, so standard Southern England BBC.

Then came Phoo Action, a one-off drama you certainly wouldn’t expect to see on any other BBC channel. A comic strip from the creator of Tank Girl brought to live-action, it had tons of primary colours, caricatures from across the globe and a green man with a basketball for a head trying to become King of England. It’d certainly be interesting to see what happens next to these characters if it goes to series.

Following the compulsory 10pm repeat of EastEnders came the much-hyped Lily Allen And Friends. The only social-networking angle that hadn’t been seen since Graham Norton’s Channel 4 chatshow was to invite the actual stars of the Internet onto the show itself. Unfortunately, the two chosen were Chris Crocker - the man chiefly remembered for sobbing to the camera ‘LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!’ - and talented singer Tay Zonday, who was depressingly professional in person.

But then, I’m just on the cusp of falling out of BBC Three’s demographic. What did you think of it?

Since the dawn of modern-day pop culture (20 minutes ago), wise sages have been wondering what is the one question that can test both spheres of knowledge? The pop cultural, and the classical spheres of the world. Both are equally important in their own way. But is there one question that can unite the two spheres, and bring mankind together to usher in a brave new frontier?

No? Just me? Oh. I’ll carry on anyway.

Now my friend red silk robe has stumbled upon the perfect question. and it’s a joke. Unfortunately, talented everyman actor Roy Schneider had to die for this joke to work, but I’m sure he’d recognise the worthy cause in which it happened.

So the joke goes:

I see that Roy Scheider died. I’ve always liked him and I’m sad to see him go. I should call Charon and say “I think you need a bigger boat.”

If you get both aspects of this joke and all the references, congratulations. You are the one to unite the world of pop culture and classics.

and you’re a better man than I, alas.

Time was I remember when Eddie Izzard was an up-and-coming name on London’s comedy circuit. Whispers of him and his genius abounded, and if you were lucky you might get to see him in an intimate setting.

Up till now, I’ve watched his meteroic ascension to stardom with a wry smile - who else could get away with offering downloads of him giving satnav directions (for a suitably high fee of course)? It was still so “him”, keeping to the brand, while still managing to feed the Izzard coffers.

But the latest offer sounds so daft, and ridiculously expensive. A flight for two to New York, three nights in a hotel and tickets to see Eddie in concert. And guess how much you’d have to pay for this privilege?

US$3200. Or about £1800.

I’m pretty sure that a flight for two to New York and three nights in a good hotel will cost about £1000. which basically means that people are paying £400 each for the privilege of seeing Eddie in concert in New York.

Sheesh.