Blogging is probably the most cheap, easy way to get your voice out. Celluloid is probably the most expensive, save etching bon-mots on to diamonds and launching them onto your public via a panda-powered catapult. Yes, I may have branched out into print (ISSUE 7!!!! OUT NOW!!!!!! ) but I’m fond of the utalitarian nature of, ahem, citizen journalism. It, like all the greater things in life, can be carried out for free, alone, in the comfort of your own bedroom.
So it’s a disorientating experience to find Beestonia attracting the interest of the Hollywood studios. Yes! I have been offered a contractual option to turn the epic tale of this blog into a three-part series of blockbusters that kicks off with an Episode One with the Story of Teresa Lou; a critically-acclaimed Episode One involving election campaigns and the chilling rise of Soubry; and an as yet realised Episode Three where I recruit teddy-bears to Save Wilkos.
There may be some artistic license here.
I maybe lying throughout.
No maybe about it, I am.
Bur still, there is truth. I’m dabbling with the celluloid. Or rather, others are, and I’m being tangled in their artistry.
I’m writing a short documentary about Beestonia, and why Beestonia is the Centre of the Universe, and after three weeks working on the treatment and proud to announce I have TWO WHOLE MINUTES of script written. At this rate, Stanley Kubrick, who started the treatment of 2001: A Space Odyssey in 1968 wouldn’t have a completed film together until 2098, whereby it would have been released as a lovely bit of nostalgic whimsy. HeartBeat in space.
That’s not all though. The people behind Beeston BID, who are tasked to keep our town alive in a retail sense, have applied for a sizable chunk of moolah by becoming a ‘Portas Town’. Here’s our application, there’s a couple of nods towards Beestonia-obsessions, notably Oxjam and the Wilkos campaign:
Not sure if I agree with the music, but who am I to judge? I still think Wings were the band the Beatles were destined to be. My karaoke has been compared to a ‘fire in a pet shop’. I once bought, and not against my will, a record by Razorlight. I know.
Which, in a ‘yesterday Indie rock’ segue/ self-promotion, informs you I have some ancient Indie-rock news if you bother reading past the next few paragraphs, or have no idea how to scroll south.
Anyhow, I digress. A couple of months ago, I put an appeal up here for someone to lend there house out for a day or so a film crew could use it for some location shots. A game Beetonian replied, and volunteered up their property (cheers Rex) and the film, a witty little short, was duly shot. I’ve seen it, and it’s fab, four minutes of visual lovelines, shot through with a humour darker than a crow being sucked into a blackhole. It’s still, I think, embargoed, as it’s in the process of being looked over by BAFTA as a submission, but I’ll post it up once I get the thumbs up. The svengali behind the project, Steve, already has his next project primed and is looking for a household in Beeston to shoot it: contact me if you are willing to let your territory become a little famous; email@example.com.
And the Indie band? Only those of a certain age, ie; you were growing inimate hair, but still were asked for ID for booze purchases in the early ninetieswill remember, but Jimbob out of Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine is doing a solo show at The Greyhound later this month. Last time I saw the aforementioned James Robert I was a wide-eyed teen, at my first festival, watching as he strode onto the Pyramid Stage as he headlined Glastonbury. And since we’re all about the film tonight, heres a dollop of Youtube to get you running out buying tickets:
Not to mention my affinity with them. We both share utter contempt for Philip Scholfield, mine garnered with an audition a few years back when I ran into ‘Pip Scho’ and scuppered my chance to be on a game show (see Beestonia passim). Theres is more reasonable, and more public: