Emerald Bile

I love romantic movies - that one all about adultery: "The Bridges of Masdison County"- I fucking love that, and the other one about adultery, and mutilation by burning: "The English Patient"- I love that one too. And the other one, about adultery after death: "Message in a bottle" - that was shit. But I watched it anyway because it was about two people, who fell in love, and really that will do it for me, filmwise.

Now the reason I love a romantic film, is not some girly gay thing about wanting to see two people be happy together, it is simply because the plot is so very, very easy to follow, that I am less likely to need to ask hundreds of questions as the film progresses. I prefer the content of an action film, but by the time it has got to the third frame, I've lost track of who all the people are, and why that man is talking to that person, and why on earth is he wearing his coat inside, the cunt? No, I have realised that my limitations, in a cinematic plot context, are boy meets girl, one of them is probably married, they fuck and either end up together or do not and die. I can manage that.

But recently there has been a spate of really fucking appalling twists on that theme. And there is no need for it. Love, and adultery and being together or separation and ultimately death, are film themes that have been with us for hundreds, nay, millions of years. Why fuck about with something that works? Jesus Christ, those Hollywood cunts! No, twice recently, I have bought a film with a picture of two middle-aged people nuzzling each other on the front, the woman looking slightly sad. And I have put the thing on, and it starts off all normal - people going around, the woman a bit scatty or worthy, the man a bit of an old rake, then suddenly the reason they cannot be together is not a sensible reason like one of them having a husband, or a wife, no. It is because they are in different time dimensions - sometimes parallel universes, other times time warps, and then suddenly there will be a bit where they get together by climbing through a rip in the meniscus of time, so they get through this wormhole and have it away with each other, and then the time-challenged lovers either end up together, or die. I am so furious. I despise that type of shit - there is absolutely no such thing as a wormhole, and if there were there would be far better things to do with it than use it to get a ride. How about jumping ahead and finding out how to cure AIDS, or going back in time and telling Ghandhi he was a cunt, and then running for it, before hundreds of sandal wearing bores ripped you apart for sacrilege, that would be great.

And it does not offer much hope to the Bridget-Jones-Single-Woman type, the kind I have sitting on my sofa regularly, crying on about how there are no men, or how the men they meet are all shites or married. Making these women think that the answer to their man-drought prayers, is a fucking wormhole and a man from the past or the future, well I just fucking ask you! It is not doing any favours for anyone this type of role modelry.

Far better to encourage your single woman friends to go out husband grabbing, or get them to marry some boring cretin and fuck the local National Geographic Magazine Photographer and then almost leave their husbands for him, but in the cold light of day to think better of it and spend the rest of their lives tending steers, baking pies and dwelling on the past.
Noreen