Con-Fused

So what am I doing on this Typical Bank Holiday Monday, basking in the holiday sun … don’t make me larf – watching professional film makers ply their trade and make short movie magic happen … If only! No I’m in the production office phoning around looking for 4 amp super miniture fuse’s or at least some fuse wire.

It’s a component for a Genio … a whatio? … a Genio. apparantly it’s a gubbins that sits on the end of a thingy and makes the stedicam do stuff. Well it’s past 5.00pm on a Bank Holiday Monday and any remote chance that there may have been for finding a 4 Amp rated fuse wire has diminished to nothing now.

But I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that things aren’t going well – yesterday was amazing we started and finished as described on the packet, (the call sheet to be precise), and then in the evening we were treated to the company of ‘The Dex’ at the Santa Fe restaurant in the Mailbox. Unfortunately, I was a little bit late so I ended up in the seat most furthest away from Dex, (that was cos I was having to retrieve the battery charger for the accursed Genio!). It didn’t matter too much, the company on the non Dex end was great anyway.

Though, occaissionally, I managed to catch a snippet of the conversation that The Dex was regaling the blessed end of the table with ” … Mel Gibson bust his …. blah blah blah …. it was the size of a melon the dext day!…” So apart from the initial warm greeting he gave me I said nothing to him, nor him to me apart from one passing exchange about the weather the next day, (today), –

ME: “Oh yeah, it’s going to be sunny, glorious shiny weather” … (and it was supposed to be – The BBC had said so! )
DEX: “Are you sure about that Joe?”
ME: “Yeah sure, no problem”
DEX: “Can you guarantee that?
ME: (With much hot air filled smuggness) “Of Course!”
DEX: “You’re a brave man…”

The next day – It rained… (I blame the Genio)

Mountain Men

YeeeHaaaa!

It’s been an amazing couple of months really, this Digital Shorts trainee scheme – I’m sure I’ve learnt more about film production in those weeks than I could have on a entire degree course – which suits me fine given my uncanny ability to fail at any academic endevour I don’t put my errant mind to.

It’s the last week and the pace has really picked up – after today I guess the bulk of my duties will be over … (who am I kidding!!)

Well whatever happens, it’ll be over in six days time but this time next week I’ll be on a train upto Yorkshire for a long weekend break with my ‘bredren’ hiking through the hills and dales and perhaps at last I’ll get a piece of this fantastic summer the rest of Britain is enjoying.

Meeja Slapper

I always reckoned myself as someone who can stay cool, in an uncool sort of way, in the face of popular trends. Latest weird fashions? … don’t care! … greatest pop group since the last greatest pop group? … couldn’t give a monkeys! … weird antipodean intonations at the end of spoken sentences that make every statement sound like a question? … not for this Joe!

But yesterday proved to me that I was completely wrong about myself.

I got into the office and busied myself with stapling and shuffling paper and staring blankly at the computer screen as per usual when one of the other office people intercepted a call; it was from “Dex” and it was for me.

I was still under the false belief that I was cool – that I treated celebrity in the same irreverent manner, (at least in my mind), as Avid Merrion does in Channel 4’s ‘Bo Selecta’. I spoke with nonchalance to the star of ‘Gamesmaster’, (well remembered by Bushra) … dammit! I was ‘Kool and the Gang’ with the guy.

I sat back at my desk basking in the reflection of the light shining out of my bottom … “Dex” had called me Joe and I had sorted out a minor problem for the man without fuss or bother … or so I thought.

Discreetly and a little later on, it was pointed out to me that not only had I been on my feet while I was talking to Mr. Fletcher but that I was bowing over the phone and had actually finished a sentence with a barely stifled “… thank you Dexter, sir”!!!

Andy, the writer of ‘Year 6′, suggested that I refrain from wringing my cloth cap and make a special attempt not to curtsy if I’m ever, ever allowed into the “Dex”’s presence.

Chilli Time

… and now, 20 days in a looped second in the life of a Jordanian finger chilli made available to you in glorious BongoVision …

Name Dropping

Dexter Fletcher!

There you are! – The first bit of ‘luvvieness’ with which to inaugerate a new category on Bongo Vongo. Now if you’re a bloke I’ll list ‘Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels’ and ‘Band of Brothers’, if you’re an uber-filmbuff then I’ll say ‘Caravaggio’ and for the ladies I’ll just mention ‘Press Gang’. (I’ll have to count myself as one of the girls in this case but in my defence, I’ll say that it has as much to do with Julia Sawalha as it might have to do with the aforementioned Mr. Fletcher).

What the hell am I talking about?

As I’ve mentioned, I’m currently working on a Screen West Midlands/Film Council funded Digital Short film as a member of a Production Team. It sounds almost glamorous but is actually a lot of bloody hard work and not an insignificant amount of stress. Anyway, we’ve just cast the lead role in this 10 minute short film and it’s … well, you can guess.

I’ll be adding, retrospectively, other ‘luvvie’ type blogs I may have belted out in the past and thus collect together the desperate chronicles of my various attempts to accidentally break into the ‘meeja’ industry. (That’ll be the kiss of death on that career then!)

South Africa

So it’s back to the virtual tour of my photo album – as I promised. A little while ago I found an excuse to visit an old college friend of mine who had long since emigrated out to South Africa.

It’s not possible for someone like me to write about South Africa without some mention of apartheid, just last week I remember talking to somebody who was saying that she still felt troubled whenever she heard a strong South African accent. It doesn’t bother me that much these days but then again I watch cricket and the accent has the effect of making me want to duck out of the way of battered cricket balls more than anything else.

Anyway, accent’s aside, the country is breathtakingly beautiful and (displaying my ignorance and prejudices) very modern. (at least the bits I got to see) It had my favourite landscape feature – mountains but these had the curious aspect of looking as if somebody had sliced the top of them off – nobody could tell me why they looked like that. It also had, just outside Johannesburg a Lion Park where you could literally reach out and touch the big ol’ pussy cats. Infact, the previous year, we were gleefully told by the guides, a Japanese tourist had done just that … unfortunately the normally chilled out lions took exception to this and chewed said Japanese tourists arm off! I took my pictures with my arms tucked safely away.

There are three big cities in South Africa, Johannesburg in the east, Cape Town in the west and Durban in the south. I never got to go to Cape Town which is a shame since it’s said to be particularly beautiful but that just means I’ll have to go back again sometime. I was, however, lucky enough to go to Durban – great place … sandy beachs, lots of Indians and fine, fine fish restaurants infact that’s a great thing about this country – good food.

Friendly too – although it didn’t take too long to work out that there’s a certain amount of social apartheid at work with the white, asian and black populations only warily engaging with each other. Business seems to be the glue that is slowly binding the three communities together. (karma-cola like I guess)

I didn’t spend too long in the country but did enjoy the time I was there and although security was a big concern of most of those I spoke with, (with those who could afford it living in heavily guarded and fenced off compounds), there was a sense of optimism in all their attitudes. But the spectre of Aids hung over this optimism and for me, growing up being told about the exploding population growth in Africa, it came as something of a sobering shock to hear that in parts of South Africa the population is being, literally, decimated by Aids.

The recent drugs policy changes could not have come sooner, (well, they could have but the big fat patent-holding pharmaceutical companies and the politician’s were being disgustingly greedy, as is their habit).

Chilli Morning

urm… I’m not getting obsessive am I? … ‘cos if I am, jus’ lemme know an’ I’ll stop – (yeah right!)

Voodoo Chilli Mania

I think I may have stumbled onto something…

Did you know that it’s possible to sip a spicy cocktail before tucking into a spicy fruity salad and all this to the accompaniment of tracks 4 and 16 of a spicy little album.

…but what would they make of all this madness in Belgium, hey?

Belgian Visitor

Went to a couple of BBQ’s over the weekend … I don’t want to eat another piece of piri-piri chicken again for at least … forever.

The first BBQ was with some of the TV crowd I’m sharing office space with – nice party – nice people. The second was at my cousin’s it was just family but included amongst them was a cousin I’d never met before who was visiting from Belgium.

He was originally from Bangladesh and like many Bangladeshi’s before him his dream had been to get to Britain. Unlike my father’s generation though, he wasn’t invited to Britain or Europe so he had to try to get here by other means.

It was interesting listening to his experiences of Europe as, it has to be admitted, an illegal immigrant. (He has got legal status now in Belgium so no need for calls to the home office)

His route was via Turkey, through to Italy then France and eventually to Belgium doing whatever jobs he could find. Mostly working in fields, he said, which he enjoyed. He was an interesting chap, a bit of a dreamer and a little directionless. Nevertheless, many people like him are working in the fields and vineyards of Europe bringing in the harvest – when they’re allowed to. Government’s EU-wide turn a blind eye to this practice for obvious economic reasons. However, this unregulated labour market can sometimes have fatal consequences. Afterall, there are no unions for illegal migrant workers. (not that having a union would be of any help these days) Anyway, back to the Belgium Bengy cousin, he revealed that he had become a vegetarian as a consequence of not having access to halal meat. (at least he had access to plenty of meat this weekend)

While he was talking about his precarious existance I thought, why is he bothering anymore? In Bangladesh he had family support and status, he had enough education to be able to make something of himself and by the standards of the land he was privileged. Yet he risked life and limb and spent huge sums of money getting to Europe and the best part of his youth scraping a meagre living picking grapes for wine and avoiding eating animal fats.

Why?

I felt like telling him to just go back to his family in Bangladesh thinking that surely he’d be much happier in the long run … but on reflection, I decided against sounding like a Tory … it’s bad enough that I’m thinking like one.

Voodoo Chilli