Friday, 25 July 2014

25/07/14 - Idiots

When you’re growing up, you’re convinced that grown-ups are utterly infallible. This makes sense, of course - you have to have absolute trust in your parents, as they’re the ones who bring you food and wipe up your poo and all of that business that you can’t manage by yourself. They impart wisdom, they have answers to all of your questions, they know how to do things. They have skills in activities that it doesn’t even occur to you that you might one day be able to do yourself – cooking, shopping, driving, these are all the actions of grown-ups, and a grown-up is an entirely separate thing to a child. As a kid, you’re just learning about the world, in the certain knowledge that when you grow up you’ll have it all figured out. But the older you get, the more you realise that the world is full of fucking idiots.

I can remember with some degree of clarity the precise moment I realised that not all grown-ups are on a level footing brains-wise. It was when I was around ten or eleven years old, and I was helping my sister with some door-to-door charity collection around the houses near to us in Herne Bay. One old man answered the door in his dressing-gown (which was in itself odd, given that it was about 7pm – what had he been up to all day?), asked which charity we were collecting for, and said ‘No, I don’t dominate to them,’ before slamming the door in our faces.
His obvious mistake stopped me in my tracks. Even at that tender age it was immediately obvious to me that he’d meant to say ‘donate’, but the confidence with which he’d said it suggested that he genuinely thought that ‘dominate’ was the correct word in that situation. My lexicon at that age was not robustly fortified with naughty swears, but my reaction was something along the lines of what I’d now vocalise as ‘fucking hell, that man’s a fucking moron’. I was gobsmacked. He was a grown-up, and yet I – a child – could see that he was wrong. Wrong! This opened up a whole new world of possibilities. If he was wrong about that, who else was wrong, and about what?

The jigsaw continued to thicken. Accompanying my dad when he went to buy a used car, the seller referred to the glove compartment as ‘the glove department’. A slip of the tongue, you might think, but she then said it two more times, clearly of the belief that the little lidded hole in the dash was designated as a department for gloves and should be referred to as such. What a berk.

From that point onwards, observing adults took on a whole new spin; your parents remain untouchable at this point, of course, but every other adult suddenly became somehow less impressive. They were just as clueless as children – sure, they’d acquired the skills to carry out certain tasks, but they were as insecure and unsure of themselves as the little people were… and those who didn’t seem insecure or unsure because they were talking loudly and throwing opinions about? Well, they were the wrongest of all.

This new-found disrespect for the intelligence of grown-ups has done me a lot of favours over the years. Grown-ups are just kids trapped in ageing bodies, their feeble brains desperately trying to cling on to new information without forcing any of the old stuff out. They’re just as scared of the world and keen to be liked as anyone else.
Helpfully, I now have a bitter and contemptuous dislike of quite a lot of people. You know that scene in Se7en where Kevin Spacey’s character describes overhearing a conversation on the subway that’s so fundamentally inane that it makes him vomit in disgust? I experience that frequently. A surprising number of people are fucking idiots.
And do you ever experience that thing where you’re sitting in a meeting listening to somebody drone on and on in a self-important way, and think ‘Jesus, you’re boring. If only your ten year-old self could see you now’? I think a sense of fun is something that’s easily lost among the truly stupid too. Dull people are the thickest, and vice versa.

Don’t let this lead you into a grim and shadowy alley of despair for mankind, however; if you’ve managed to retain a sense of perspective, to be aware that you’re wrong most of the time just like everybody else, you’re probably OK. The really dangerous people are the ones who believe they’re always right. Be very suspicious of confident people, they’re almost certainly about to give you some very bad advice – particularly if they’re in a PC World uniform, driving a Foxtons Mini, or speaking at a Tory conference. Put your trust in the stammering wallflowers, they’re the clever ones.




Jet-powered arse

The always-engaging Colin Furze, inventor of things, has built a giant jet-powered arse in order to fart at France. Well, why not, eh?



Anagramatron

Behold, a magical Tumblr that pairs up tweets which randomly happen to be anagrams of one another. Click here!






How to make a hit pop song

Wonderful stuff. And very catchy too!



'The Perfect Daughter'

Lovely ad from Chile here.
(Excuse me, I think someone's chopping onions nearby...)

People hurting themselves, etc

YouTube is full of fail compilations, but TNL are always the best.

Friday, 18 July 2014

18/07/14 - W14

You know that bit in Trainspotting where Renton’s getting all respectable and moves to London be an estate agent? I recently discovered that the flat he shows the young couple around, and ultimately ends up stashing Begbie and Sick Boy in, is 78a North End Road, just across from West Kensington Tube station. This is within spitting distance of my office – if you’re really good at spitting, that is – which tickled my that’s-interesting-that-is lobe. London’s a fascinating place, as are all cities (and, well, anywhere that anyone lives, actually); it’s easy to forget as you go about your day-to-day business that all kinds of noteworthy things have happened on any and every street. My wife and I recently went to a house near to where we live in Wandsworth to pick up a Daddy Pig toy (for our daughter, honest), and noticed that the house across the street had a blue plaque saying that David Lloyd George used to live there. And yet today it’s just someone’s house. Thomas Hardy’s house was just down the road too.
Well, I think that kind of thing’s interesting. Like when I discovered that my car used to be a paramedic response vehicle – you don’t think of your stuff having a life before you.

So anyway, this Trainspotting titbit popping up in the W14 postcode made me wonder what else may have happened within ambling distance of my desk. I did a little investigating into the local area, and here’s what I found…

Famous Three Kings
This is a pub on the corner of the North End Road (if you live in London, you have to randomly put ‘the’ at the start of road names sometimes, it’s a thing) that I’ve been into once. I’ve been working here for over eight years, so that may suggest that it’s not the nicest pub. Still, it does have an unusual curved glass thingy at the entrance, that’s pretty.
…but the F3K (as they like to style themselves, being all modern an’ that) used to be The Nashville Rooms, a buzzing music venue. Joy Division used to play there regularly. So did the Sex Pistols and The Police, The Vibrators and The Stranglers. Elvis Costello, The Cure, X-Ray Spex and The Jam all played the Nashville. Sid Vicious has probably pissed down the stairs to our office. Imagine that.
And before it was a punk venue, The Nashville Rooms styled itself as ‘England’s Home of Country Music’; look, here’s a photo of the entrance from 1974. That curvy glass thingy has been there for quite a while.

Blythe House
Situated on Blythe Road, a short stroll from Olympia, Blythe House was originally built as the headquarters of the Post Office Savings Bank, and is now in service as a store and archive for various museums; the V&A, Science & British Museums – including a ‘quarantine’ area in which new exhibits for the Science Museum are examined and analysed. But what you might know it best for is its use as a backdrop for numerous films and TV shows. Cast your mind back to the late-seventies - if you’re old enough - and it might ring a bell if you were a fan of Minder or The New Avengers. More recently, it appeared in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. (Which I haven’t seen, despite my mum lending me the DVD about a year ago. Sorry mum. I’ll get round to it soon, promise.)

West Ashfield Tube Station
West Kensington is served by no less than six different Tube lines, from West Ken station, Earls Court, West Brompton, Barons Court and Olympia. But do you know where West Ashfield Tube station is?
It’s actually on the third floor of Ashfield House, the big, sandy-coloured, oblong building on the other side of the West Cromwell Road from Kensington Village.
It’s not a real Tube station, obviously. That wouldn’t work, it’d be madness to put one on the third floor of an office building. It is, in fact, a totally accurate replica of a real-life Tube station, used for training staff – it opened in 2010, and is nominally a westbound platform on the District Line; it’s got proper signals, Tannoy and power controls, and even has a fan system to replicate the rush of air when a train arrives. Clever, eh?

Miss Conception
Have you seen the movie Miss Conception (also known as Buy Borrow Steal)? No, I haven’t, it sounds awful. Heather Graham plays a character who’s desperate to have a baby, experiences all sorts of mishaps, then ultimately gets pregnant. It got very poor reviews.
…but apparently that was set in West Kensington. Anyone fancy watching it and finding out? I just watched the trailer and a small part of me died - http://youtu.be/udA2z5fyjSo

Take Three Girls
This was BBC1’s first ever drama series to be filmed and broadcast in colour. It follows three girls sharing a flat in swinging London – a single mother, an art student and a cellist. It was pretty popular at the time, running for 24 episodes over two series.
Here’s the first episode: http://youtu.be/7LeJBQyBWNs - the entrance to their flat, which you see near the start, is on Glazbury Road, a short walk from West Kensington Tube station.

Famous residents
A number of noteworthy people have called the W14 postcode home. There are several blue plaques in the area, including: Cetshwayo kaMpande, King of the Zulus (18 Melbury Road), Sir Geoffrey de Havilland, aviation pioneer and aircraft engineer (32 Barons Court Road), Marcus Garvey, Pan-Africanist leader (53 Talgarth Road), Quaid I Azam Mohammed Ali Jinnah, founder of Pakistan (35 Russell Road), and Lord Leighton, painter (12 Holland Park Road). Other folk who live or have lived in West Kensington include James Hunt (Normand Mews), Freddie Mercury (Holland Road), artist Edward Burne-Jones (North End Crescent), Broadway actress Peg Entwistle [aka ‘The Hollywood Sign Girl’, after she committed suicide by jumping from the Hollywood sign] (Comeragh Road), rapper Estelle, composer Gustav Holst, Mahatma Gandhi (Barons Court Road), author Henry Rider Haggard (Gunterstone Road), Queen - the band, not the monarch (Sinclair Road), and W.B. Yeats (Edith Villas).
The very street where the office is has some interesting tales to tell too – 22 & 22a Avonmore Road were designed by architect James MacLaren for the sculptor HR Pinker, and Edward Elgar lived at no.51. Oh, and that garage at the end with the steel shutter and the chequered flag above the door? That’s where Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman set up their headquarters for their ‘Long Way Down’ trip. (That’s two entirely separate Ewan McGregor associations, then, along with the Trainspotting thing – he bloody loves W14, he does.)

The office itself
Leo Burnett London’s office wears its history proudly along its railway edge: ‘William Whiteley’s Depositories – removals to or from all parts of the world’. Whiteleys, in Bayswater, was London’s first department store - William Whiteley had opened a drapery shop on Westbourne Grove in 1863, which expanded into a row of shops with seventeen departments; by 1890 he was employing over 6,000 people, most of whom live in company-owned dormitories split strictly into male and female sections, with working hours generally being 7am-11pm, six days a week. Whiteley was something of an empire-builder, buying up huge tracts of farmland and building food processing plants to provide food for his department store as well as feed his workers. He called himself ‘the universal provider’, claiming that he could ‘provide anything from a pin to an elephant’; in 1896 he received a Royal Warrant from Queen Victoria.
The store had actually burnt down in 1887, and was rebuilt on Queensway – Phoenix-like, it was renowned by 1911 as ‘the largest British store in the world’. Whiteley wasn’t around to enjoy that accolade, however, as he had been murdered in 1907 by Horace George Raynor, who stormed into the shop, claimed to be his illegitimate son, and shot him dead.
Anyway, the furniture depository on Avonmore Road – as you’ve probably deduced, it was a storage facility for Whiteleys. Kensington Village was built in the 1880s; among the numerous services of his business empire, Whiteley offered secure storage for valuables as well as global removal services, and the Warwick Building was used to store the grand pianos and mahogany sideboards of the well-to-do while they were off in the colonies. The village also housed a laundry and stables. Warwick Building was revamped in 2000 as part of the Kensington Village redevelopment (when other buildings, including the Pembroke, were built in the same style as the Victorian originals), but the exposed brickwork and ironwork are all just as they would have been in period. So we’re basically sitting in an old warehouse, where someone’s Persian rug or Chippendale armchair might have sat under a dustsheet. And I find that very interesting.

There you go, then. W14. Stuff has happened here.






TINDERFELLA

Tinder profile pictures, expertly lampooned. The commitment is genuinely impressive. Click here.







Word Crimes

The latest from Weird Al. Surprisingly good!

Tim's Faces

A very modern form of vengeance, this. Every time a First Capital Connect train is late, this person Photoshops the face of company CEO Tim O'Toole. Click here to see, it's very creative.


Childcatchers

Impressive prescience from Not The Nine O'Clock News here...

100 amazing basslines

This rocks, rather a lot.

Cleaning an LP...

...with wood glue. Clever.

Parking a kart like a BOSS

Friday, 11 July 2014

11/07/14 - Movies, etc

Familiarity breeds contempt, as the old cliché goes. But it also makes you forget how good things are. When the opening riff of Smells Like Teen Spirit comes on the radio, is your first thought ‘brilliant, I love this track – it’s the archetypal Cobain quiet-loud-quiet sound, manifested as a robust departure from the stripped-back punk of Bleach’, or ‘bloody hell, this again’? Try not to let it be the latter, it’s still a magnificent song.
This behaviour is also true of movies. Some films are so ubiquitous, so obvious, that they become by default a last-resort choice – no-one’s going to applaud your film-buff credentials if you’re espousing the merits of a blockbuster smash from fifteen years ago. But sod what other people think – you don’t have to be all counter-culture all the time, often things are popular because they’re good, right? So, here to brighten up your weekend is the JuicyPips Guide to Eight Films That You’ve Almost Certainly Seen Many Times But Should Really Watch Again. And the reason for selecting these eight films in particular? Because they’re all really rather clever.
(Beware – spoilers approach. If you haven’t seen any of these, just skip over the ‘what happens’ sections, yeah?)

The Matrix (released 1999)

What happens?
A hacker, Neo, suspects that a thing called The Matrix exists, but doesn’t know what it is. He meets a mysterious chap named Morpheus, who tells him that he can show him The Matrix, but once he’s seen it he can never go back. He agrees. He awakens to discover that his entire perception of reality is false, and that he’s actually just one of millions of unconscious people being farmed for their energy in gel-filled pods. He learns that the world is run by intelligent machines, powering themselves from human energy and keeping everyone’s subconscious existing in 1999-era “reality”. All kinds of mad shit goes down once he learns to bend the rules of what isn’t actually reality.

What makes it clever?
Presenting Keanu Reeves as a credible actor, for a start. He does a cracking job. The Matrix also paved the way for all sorts of mind-bending cinematographic reworkings of the physical world – Inception owes a lot to it. There is much subterfuge and who’s-on-who’s-side going on too, which is always fun. Keeps you guessing.


Natural Born Killers (released 1994)

What happens?
Mickey and Mallory Knox are a latter day Bonnie & Clyde. The film starts off with them killing a load of people in a diner because one of them was leching over Mallory. We see a flashback in which they kill her abusive parents, and then we jump back to the present where they go on to kill 52 people in a bloody spree. Detective Scagnetti is after them as he’s a bit obsessed with mass-murderers, but he himself is a bit of a psycho – he kills a hooker, which is kinda naughty for a copper.
The couple are apprehended at a drugstore and jailed, ultimately becoming media heroes as they start a prison riot live on TV. It all gets very messy.

What makes it clever?
It’s very, very intelligently crafted and beautifully shot. It’s psychedelic and trippy, constantly swapping angles and switching between colour and black and white as well as pulling in countless effects, filters, animation segues and what-have-you. The construct of the film is effectively to parody television culture, with much of the plot staged as parodies of TV shows, and relentless clips from adverts and TV programmes are spliced in. The film belies its gory subject matter by being utterly gorgeous to behold.


Pulp Fiction (released 1994)

What happens?
The film has seven parts. Part 1: Pumpkin & Honey Bunny rob a diner. Part 2: Jules & Vincent go to retrieve a briefcase for their boss, Marsellus. Part 3: Marsellus pays Butch, a boxer, to take a dive in a fight. Jules & Vincent deliver the briefcase. Vincent takes Marsellus’ wife out for dinner at his request, and when they get back home she overdoses on heroin. Vincent gives her an adrenaline shot to save her. They agree not to tell Marsellus. Part 4: Flashback to young Butch, being given his dead father’s gold watch. Part 5: Having won the boxing match by killing his opponent rather than throwing it as Marsellus wanted, Butch escapes. He’d bet his payoff on himself.
The next morning, he realises his girlfriend forgot to pack his gold watch before they fled, so he goes back for it. Vincent is in Butch’s flat. Butch kills him. Butch is spotted by Marsellus as he’s escaping by car, so Butch runs him over. A fight ensues, they end up in a pawn shop where, by a stroke of bad luck, the place is run by nutters who tie them up in the basement. Marsellus gets raped, Butch saves Marsellus, they call it quits. Part 6: Vincent and Jules are driving along with Marvin, their informant, in the back of the car. Vincent accidentally shoots Marvin in the face. Jules and Vincent go to Jimmie’s house, who calls The Wolf to sort it all out. Part 7: Jules & Vincent go for breakfast in a diner. It’s the diner we saw at the start of the film, and they’re held up by Pumpkin and Honey Bunny. A brilliant Mexican standoff ensues.
If you haven’t seen it, that’ll all sound like nonsense. But trust me, it’s astonishing.

What makes it clever?
The jumping-around through time is a signature Tarantino move that keeps you on your toes – it’s the kind of film that makes you feel clever as the plot threads pull together and you work out who’s associated with who. And there are a number of deliberately unanswered questions that have spawned all manner of theories, particularly relating to what’s in the briefcase: is it Marsellus’ soul? Is it the diamonds from the heist in Reservoir Dogs? The Holy Grail perhaps, a nuclear device, the gold lamé Elvis suit from True Romance, an Oscar…?


Fight Club (released 1999)

What happens?
Unnamed narrator suffers from severe insomnia. His doctor advises that he go to a support group to witness people with more severe suffering; he goes to a group for testicular cancer sufferers, pretends he’s one of them, and finds emotional release that relieves his insomnia. He becomes addicted to support groups, and is irked when he finds that another imposter, Marla, is attending many of the same groups.
Flying home from a business trip, he befriends Tyler Durden. He comes home to find his apartment has exploded, and calls Tyler – although isn’t really sure why. He goes to stay with Tyler, and ends up moving in permanently. They go out to a bar one night, and Tyler asks him to hit him. He does. He finds that fighting is just as good a release as the support groups were; their fighting draws in other disenchanted young men, and a fight club grows.
Tyler starts shagging Marla, and also spearheads an initiative called ‘Project Mayhem’ in which Fight Club members (upstanding citizens in their day-to-day lives) carry out anti-materialist and anti-corporate attacks.
After a member of Project Mayhem dies, the narrator is keen to shut the whole thing down, and travels to another city to find Tyler. A Project Mayhem member addresses the narrator as Tyler. He calls Marla from his hotel room, and discovers that she also thinks he’s Tyler. It transpires that he has actually been Tyler all along. The internal struggle externalises itself as he fights with Tyler (fighting, that is, with himself [or at least a separate aspect of his personality]), and ultimately finds that the only way to stop himself projecting Tyler is to shoot himself in the face.

What makes it clever?
Everything. It’s not just a film about people punching each other, it’s arguably one of the cleverest scripts ever to come out of Hollywood. It’s packed full of sublime detail too, that you have to watch it over and over again to spot – the brief, shimmering appearances of Tyler early on in the film, the fact that Marla’s phone number is also Teddy’s number in Memento (see below), the director’s insistence on pushing the anti-materialist theme by featuring a Starbucks cup in every scene of the movie, the single pornographic frame spliced into the final scene, just as Tyler would have done when he was working as a projectionist… it’s a phenomenally detailed film.


The Royal Tenenbaums (released 2001)

What happens?
Royal Tenenbaum and his wife, Etheline, have separated. Their three grown-up children, Chas, Margot and Richie, all achieved success at a young age: Chas as a mathematics and business genius, Margot (adopted) for writing a critically acclaimed play at the age of 9, and Richie as a tennis prodigy. Richie is in love with Margot; his best friend is neighbour Eli Cash.
Royal is kicked out of the hotel he’s living in, and fakes stomach cancer to convince Etheline to let him move back in to convalesce. All of the children are in a post-success slump – Richie is travelling the world on a cruise ship after having a breakdown, Chas is obsessively overprotective of his two sons following the death of his wife, and Margot is something of a recluse.
Etheline calls the children home to be with Royal. Margot, who’s been having an affair with Eli, learns that Richie is in love with her. Henry, Etheline’s fiancé, discovers that Royal isn’t actually ill, and Royal leaves the family home again. Much emotional grimness follows, including Richie slitting his wrists, and Eli crashing his car into the house while high on mescaline. Then they all try to sort themselves out.

What makes it clever?
Wes Anderson is a directorial genius, and it’s a stunning film to behold. Every actor in every role is perfectly cast, and the wonderful scriptwriting perfectly deconstructs the fragile nature of the human psyche – you can relate to every character on some level, even the ones you really don’t want to. It’s just an astonishingly human movie.


American Psycho (released 2000)

What happens?
Patrick Bateman is a wealthy investment banker, living in Manhattan. It’s the 1980s, and his world is all about appearances and displays of success. His narration describes in detail the labels on his clothes, the restaurants he goes to, the things owned by his circle of ‘friends’ who he largely despises. Bateman and his co-workers compare business cards and, crushed by the superiority of Paul Allen’s card, he goes out and kills a homeless man.
At a party, Paul mistakes him for another banker, so Patrick lures him back to his flat and gleefully hacks him to pieces. He then goes to Paul’s apartment and makes it look like he’s gone on a trip to London.
Bateman kills quite a few other people, becoming more frenzied and less controlled the higher the body count rises, culminating in him leaving a voicemail for his lawyer confessing to all of the killings.
He sees the lawyer the next day, who tells him that Paul Allen isn’t dead, and he’d recently had lunch with him in London. We’re left to wonder whether Bateman actually killed anyone at all, or is in fact just really frustrated with the anonymity of his existence and desperate for some kind of release.

What makes it clever?
It’s very cerebral – there’s so much ambiguity over mistaken identities that there’s no way of knowing whether any of it happened or not. The details of the plot will keep coming back to you, changing your mind back and forth over what you think happened.


Memento (released 2000)

What happens?
The film runs as two concurrent plot sequences – black and white shots running chronologically, colour scenes running in reverse order.
Leonard, the protagonist, suffers from anterograde amnesia – he’s unable to make new memories, so he awakens every day not knowing where he is. This is a result of having been attacked by two men – Leonard killed one of the men, who had raped and strangled his wife, but the other man hit him on the head and escaped. The police believe there was no second attacker, so Leonard is on a mission to find the missing man. This is tricky, as he can’t remember anything, so he has to rely on copious note-making, Polaroid photos, and having vital information tattooed onto himself.
Leonard is helped in his quest by a man named Teddy (the one referenced in Fight Club), although he has a Polaroid of Teddy saying not to trust him. Pulling together various bits of evidence, he ultimately deduces that Teddy is the second attacker that he’s after and plans to kill him. After many serpentine plot twists too complex to explain here, Teddy confesses to Leonard that they’d tracked down and killed the attacker over a year ago, but Leonard’s lack of catharsis owing to his inability to remember it has led him to create an unsolvable riddle, leaving himself false clues to follow in order to give his befuddling existence some sort of purpose.

What makes it clever?
It’s a total headfuck. Who’s telling the truth? Who is who? Who killed who, and when? As the backwards/forwards storylines converge at the end, you feel a tremendous swell of relief as the whole film suddenly makes sense to you. But then for days afterwards you’ll keep remembering other things and saying ‘hang on a minute, what if…?’


Skyfall (released 2012)

What happens?
James Bond and Eve Moneypenny are trying to recover a stolen hard drive containing the identities of a number of undercover MI6 agents. Eve accidentally shoots Bond, everyone assumes he’s dead, and he disappears.
After the incident, M comes under pressure from above and is encouraged to retire. Then her office blows up and several agents die. Bond learns of the attack and returns to London – he’s out of shape and fails the physical & mental aptitude tests, but M sweeps it under the rug and reinstates his 00 status.
He follows the hard drive thief to Shanghai and kills him, finding a gambling chip among his possessions that leads him to a casino in Macau. The trail then leads to an abandoned island where he’s captured by ex-MI6 agent Raoul Silva, who’s become a cyber-terrorist. Bond brings him in, but it turns out that this was Silva’s plan all along, and he escapes into the Underground tunnels beneath London, eager to carry out his plan to kill M.
Bond whisks M away to Skyfall, his childhood home in Scotland, telling Q to leave an electronic trail to lead Silva up there. Bond and M meet up with Kincade, Skyfall’s gamekeeper, and together they booby-trap the house and wait. Silva turns up with hordes of gun-toting bastards and a big fuck-off helicopter, all kinds of explosions happen, Silva corners M and implores her to kill them both by putting a bullet through both their heads; Bond kills Silva and – massive spoiler here – M dies, succumbing to an earlier gunshot wound.

What makes it clever?
It’s just so beautifully put together – it follows the classic Bond film format to a degree, but takes it to a much darker place; it’s far more cerebral than the other Daniel Craig 007 movies and, like all of the other films in this round-up, the details will keep coming back to you. This is not your average Bond film – this really is something else.


So, that’s your weekend sorted. Extra JuicyPips points to anyone who watches them all before Monday…







The lost art of the cutaway

Very beautiful indeed, this - a celebration of retro cutaway illustrations. Click here.




Fireworks filmed with a drone

Gorgeous. Watch on fullscreen, try not to duck.

ALT/1977

Modern stuff, beautifully sent back in time to the 1970s. Look!



Uterus piñata

Ah, hilarious cruelty.

British plugs

In your face, everybody.

Crazy legs

Unsurprisingly, this person is an internet sensation.

Playthings

Bit of a wonky message here...