Opinion Sheep

Wunder Rat finds reviews by film critics very worthwhile reading. As a general rule if the critic gets all high and mighty and gives it a brutal review then it is probably a fair assumption that it is an okay flick and will be well worth the admission fee to get Mrs Wunder Rat out of the house for a few hours. On the other hand if critics rave and swoon over a film you can be guaranteed you will be disappointed, most likely not because the film is bad but your expectations have been built up to expect the Gone With The Wind of our time. This is fair enough, everyone has the right to their own opinion but what Wunder Rat doesn’t understand is when people are told something like a film is good then they seem to convince themselves that it must be good, just in case they seem like a weirdo for going against the general consensus of their peers.

How many times have you seen a new blockbuster hit the big screens and think I must go and check that out and see what all the fuss is about. Everyone is talking about it, billboards are advertising it everywhere and all the commercial radio stations in town are running competition and promotions to win tickets to see it. The critics have given it the thumbs up and everyone that you have talked to has sang it’s praises, they don’t go into specifics but say it’s great, wonderful, very entertaining, outrageously funny.

So you tell Mrs Wunder Rat to keep Sunday afternoon free, she’s going to the local multiplex the lucky little thing. Sunday arrives and it’s a miserable old day. Not to worry thinks Wunder Rat, we’re off to see the talk of the town, no amount of rain can dampen the anticipation. Mrs Wunder Rat suggests booking the tickets online. Not at all, it’ll be grand says Wunder Rat knowing better, bless her. The rain continues to fall and the doubt starts to set in. Maybe I’ll book the tickets just to keep her happy thinks Wunder Rat an hour before the screening, sure it will avoid queuing at the ticket office. Out comes the laptop and credit card and after doing about three laps of the cinema’s website you finally get to the booking page. There are four seats left, and you grab two of them, second row from the front on the far left. Of course Mrs Wunder Rat is told there are loads of seats available but you have been suffering a bit of blurred vision in your left eye lately, hence your very carefully thought out choice of seats.

Into the Starlet Turbo you hop and off to the picture house you go. You emerge two hours later wondering what all the fuss is about. The film was okay, not bad but nothing special and certainly no Dumb and Dumber. Easily the best example Wunder Rat has experienced of this lately, and probably ever in fact, is Slumdog Millionaire. Now don’t get me wrong, the kids, considering their backgrounds etc, are great in it but come on, the plot is weaker an Enid Blyton children’s novel. Just because something was “made on a budget” doesn’t make it automatically any good. In fact I’ll retract my earlier verdict that it was alright, I actually thought it was sh1te. There I’ve said it. Nominated for ten and winning eight Oscars, ask my hairy ar$e. Never have I seen something as overhyped since the Fun Hopper.

Now that I had seen it I could join in the conversation down the pub and give my verdict on it, obviously I said it was pretty good and well worth seeing, I wasn’t going to be the only one to waste 20 quid and two hours of my life watching it if I had anything to do with it. I’m not going to be the black sheep, stay with the flock, safety in numbers and all that.

To Tell or Snot to Tell

That is the question. How distracting is it talking to someone with a snot hanging out of their nose, maybe it isn’t even protruding below the nostril but you can see the crispy green nugget sitting there, it’s all you can focus on.

What is the correct etiquette in a situation like this? Does it make a difference whether you are talking to a male or female? Do you take into account the consistency of the snot? If you dislike the person do you make a show of them in a meeting by informing them of the little green critter hanging from their big annoying honker mid presentation?

You just never quite know what to say or what snot to say, do you?

Spoon Face

During the week that comedian Jimmy Carr is taking a lot of flak, excuse the expression, for telling a joke about injured British servicemen contributing to a really strong British Paralympic team in 2012 all the attention has been taken away from another joke that has landed Frankie Boyle in a bit of bother.

He commented that Olympic Champion swimmer, Rebecca Adlington, looked like someone looking at themselves in the back of a spoon. A little gem that almost made Wunder Rat sore from laughing. Poor Rebecca didn’t see the funny side of it though and complained. And just when everyone had forgotten about it, complained again that the BBC’s punishment for Boyle wasn’t harsh enough.

Oh the irony. How many more hundreds of thousands of people only became aware of his witty remark after reading about her complaining and then complaining some more. You should have just let it go Rebecca, now every time I see a spoon I’ll think of your face and I’m sure I’m not alone.

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/5/20091102/tuk-swimming-star-slams-bbc-over-joke-ru-45dbed5.html

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ukpress/article/ALeqM5g2UspxpBYaHm4NSB72jkRbssBrRQ

Skanger Bangers

You know the type, barely more than pups, car full of their mates and an exhaust like a piece of 6 inch wavan pipe hanging out of the badly shaped cutout in the back bumper which wakes the dead every time they turn the key in the ignition. How the hell do their little skanger fillings not fall out of their mouths driving around in their mobile discos?

Not that they actually drive around that much. They seem to gravitate to the nearest convenience store carpark and hang out for the evening, all the little skangers together looking hard as nails and not a bird in sight the little queers.

On the rare occasion they do venture out of the carpark it's to race each other 200 yards down the road and back, usually in the most built up area they can find, hurling abuse at joggers and likes or anyone that dares give them a dirty look through their badly tinted windows.

Not that the joggers would have much to worry about mind you, Wunder Rat's gran in her electric wheelchair would out run most of the skanger bangers. After they've bolted all that crap onto their Toyota Starlet or Honda Civic it's 75 Bhp engine can barely reach the speed limit, never mind break it. Oh the irony that their cars of choice that they choose to hang around looking tough in are usually what you see old age pensioners driving. Fuck off you little prats.

Prat of the Week - Marlon "Millionaire" King

There is a widely banded about theory that half the professional footballers in the world would probably have ended up in jail had it not been for the fact they managed to resist sniffing glue and to stay out of trouble just long enough for some talent scout to spot them kicking a ball around the park on a rainy Sunday morning.

It takes a special breed however to make it to the top flight of professional football but also manage to find the time to fulfil their ultimate destiny of a life behind bars. Take a bow Marlon King, you really are a prat.

http://www.theoffside.com/world-football/marlon-king-18-months-hard-time-a-sex-offender.html

The Turd Person

Wunder Rat hates people that talk about themselves in the third person. Maybe hate is too strong a word, but he certainly thinks they are twats.

Staycationisation

There are between approximately 450,000 to 700,000 words in the English language depending on what dictionary you look up, I know this because I have counted them while on holiday in Belgium, believe me it’s about the most exciting thing you can do in Belgium. With so many words you would think there is pretty much one for every occasion, right? Well this may come as a shock to some but apparently many people find having to choose from one of the 600,000 or so words in existence is far too restrictive for everyday communication purposes and insist on inventing new words.

Why do people feel the need to add for example “isation” (or “ization” for our American friends) on to the end of a word. There are numerous examples of this almost everywhere you look these days and if I started going into detail we would be here all day, at least I would, there’s probably no one reading this.

The above, although irritating, is somewhat more acceptable than the cut and shunt of the written or spoken word which has given us such gems as “guesstimate”. Now any time I hear anyone use such a word all I can see in neon letters above their head is “Twit” or in some cases “Prat” usually depending on whether or not they are wearing a suit. You either guess if you are not sure of an answer or are lacking the required information to make an estimate or you estimate if the required information is incomplete or you don’t have time to give a calculated precise answer. Why the need to combine the two and talk jibberish? Now I know that modern English has Germanic origins and let’s face it, the Germans are the past masters of running words together when the is a shortage of spaces to go around but at least their word joining doesn’t make up new words on the spot, it’s an accepted part if their grammar.

My personal favourite “word” to hate lately has to be “staycation” which has seen an explosion in use given the current economic climate which has become an excuse for everything these days from the shortage of credit available in the interbank money markets to why bee colonies are dying out in ever increasing numbers across the globe. If there is a problem in the world today, no matter how big or small, it’s probably down to those greedy bankers. But I digress. Would you ever shag off with your “staycations” or as our German friends might say, “Wearetoocheaptogoawayforourholiday” and tell it as it is and stop this bollixisation of the English language please. Ah rats…

P.S. I could thoroughly recommend Belgium if you are too cheap to go anywhere decent on holidays but bring something good to read like a telephone book or something to pass the time.