The other night I couldn't sleep. I got up at 4.30 a.m. and wrote to Donald Clarke. Yes, that lovely bespectacled chap off the Irish Times.
"Dear Mr. Clarke,
Bravo!
I am writing to convey my pleasure on reading your writing.
Every Friday morning on my coffee break, I root through the boring,
depressing parts of the Irish Times (where they tell you the world
is about to end...again) to ferret out your reviews on films
and all things cinematic.
I love going to the cinema, but maybe I like reading about them just as much. It's kind of like reading restaurant reviews and never eating out. A guilty pleasure, but one none the less.
I love your use of the English language, and find your sarcastic wit like a splash
of Old Spice on a new-shaven face. This morning, in fact, I was reading your review
of Marmaduke, and your comparison of the hypothetical progress of the
cartoon to primates and picking tics out of their rectums. Despite being caught halfway between toast and an unsavoury image, I laughed and laughed. It cheered me greatlyand I resolved to write to you to tell you.
I especially enjoy your reviews of crap films. Waiting for a Slating is something to savour :)
Keep it up!
Yours sincerely,
Sarah Gostrangely"
*******
Funnily enough, he hasn't replied. Maybe I should get one of those Gmail lock thingys.
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8 comments:
cute! i'd say he's morto.
I use his blog as a means of letting him know how deadly I think he is. Like I...umm...used to do with Rosie. Worrying.
...for all concerned.
Maybe I should just comment on it next time, Andy. It seems less stalkerish. Not suggesting that you were stalking Rosie or anything...
Rosie: He's morto? I"M scarleh. But clearly not enough NOT to post it up here. sigh* Dumbass.
What you should do now is find out where he lives, creep into his bedroom at night, and sit looking at him until he wakes up.
Oh dear. Good idea at the time and all that. Also, I ended up bailing from Electric Picnic on Sunday night missus, and as such was unable to catch your gig in the Village Hall. I'll do better next time!
Me parece que el chiste se pierde en la traduccion automatica, sorry
A Sarah Gostrangely lookalike whizzed past me on a bike earlier (turning onto Camden st).
I nearly said Hi! And then realised you'd have no idea who I was. If that was in fact you.
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