This week we were visited by journalist, broadcaster, musician, thriller writer, bread maker, chicken breeder and biker Tom Morton and gang including my old mate...wait for it... Sandy Nelson. Yes! The guy with me in the pic below is called Sandy Nelson! He's taller than me, 10 years younger, better looking and a doctor. We are like Schwarzenegger and De Vito in Twins.(l-r: Martha, Sandy, Sandy, Elaine.)
We stopped off here and there, me showing them the sites of Unst, including the Northern Lights Bistro which was closed. At 1pm-lunchtime. On a public holiday. On a Scottish Isle. During tourist season. Now, I'm no Duncan Fannytyne or Theo Clitoris but even an arty farty treehugger like me can see that this makes no fucking business sense whatsoever.
Anyroad, the big thing is that the Bus Shelter has had a makeover! Last year it was Baby Blue. This season it's pink to make the boys wa..er..wink.
Canny believe I haven't told yuz about this yet. Happened a couple of months ago.
Now that I am away up here in the great wilderness 30 miles short of the Argtic circle my traveling expenses to work are a little painful. When I go to work in Glasgovia for instance it's: bus-ferry-bus-ferry-bus-foot-bus-flight-bus-train. And back. (the first ferry is free and the second one is included in the bus fair so canny really hark aboot that. Still. Ooyah!)
So a cuppla months ago I'm coming out of departures at Glasgow Airport and I see two Arriva Glasgow Flyer busses. I only need one.
As I stand there gormlessly wondering which bus to get on some suit collers me and says, "Excuse me, are you getting on this bus?" "Yes," sez I, "but I'm not sure which one to get." The suit points to the one on the right and sez, "It's that one. Congratulations. You are our ONE MILLIONTH CUSTOMER!"
As I stand there eyebrow raised Spock style trying to comprehend this Oor Wullie storyline that unfolds before me, other eye looking out for Dom Joly, a wee crowd of semi suits start chattering "Ooh! Is that him? There he is! He's the one" (the closest I'll get to being Jesus.)
Next thing I know I am surrounded by them cameras flashing, champaign, chocolates and low quality Arriva promotional items being thrust into my hands.
While I stand there wrestling with the possibilities of my agent and showbiz mates crawing, "That fanny will do anything for publicity," against free sweeties and booze the suit says, "Here's a pass for a years free travel on the Airport Flyer."
That's £120 in old money.
So, as you can imagine I said, "Well I never had a reputation to speak of anyway. Festoon away." The pass was passed over with four vouchers to the Free Booze Lounge (don't know what it's official name is but I think Free Booze Lounge covers the idea.)
We have a wee one bedroom flat for sale in beautiful Arrochar.
50 mins to Glasgow by car. Pleasant train journey to and from Glasgow three times a day. Council tax lower and air clearer than Glasgow.
Go on! Live a little! Get in touch if you know emdy interested.
Living room Kitchen with big Belfast sink. Bedroom with original stone wall. Designer bathroom with cast iron bath as designed and built by GSA alumnus Caroline McMurtrie of Elements Eternal. Arrochar from the foot of The Cobbler.
Sorry there's been no blogging of late. I'd been putting all of my creative energy into the final draft of the new BBC Radio Scotland situation comedy pilot Marshalls Misdemeanours which was being re-written right up until and during the recording last Tuesday. I was lucky enought to have an amazing cast of actors and a most generous and understanding director. It is due for broadcast whenever those who decide these kind of things decide. To. Broadcast it.
Then once I got back to Unst I realised I had a full TWO FULLWEEKS where I didn't have to get on a ferry to anywhere at all. That never happens! So I thought I'd just read, think and tidy up and hug my wife for a while. And watch a lot of Gilmore Girls.
But now it's back to writing and the virtual brown envelope posting. The McLellan Award for a play in the Scots language is calling for entries again so I think this year I'll punt something in there. Then there's my supernatural family drama sitcom to redraft and a synopsis for a feature I'm writing with an undisclosed writing partner. As well as all that I'm finishing off a second act to my hit one act plat Metrosexual. David McGowan and Danielle Stewart in Metrosexual at Oran Mor April 2007.
So, now that the fire festival season is over ( more pics later) it's heed doon and batter at he keys. Some of you may have noticed I did a Reggie Perrin on Facebook, ie: faked cybercide and restarted. That's 'cos I get addicted to that shit. So if you see me on Facebook or writing this blog it means I totally "procrastubating." and I need to be told to "Get Back To Work!" All nagging graciously accepted.
Will let you know when Marshalls Misdemeanors is on and Metrosexual is out. S.x.
All the different guizer squads muster at The Galley Shed around 7.30pm.
After the Guizer Jarl's Squad hand out the drinks we all grab a torch each. Guess which ones me and which ones Caroline. Then we march off into the crisp winter night towards the galley. Once gathered around the galley the torches are tossed in. (note the sheilds, of the rugby six nations flags, as painted by Caroline and her pupils.) ...and up it goes! The bottle is passed around.
And a Viking gets a happy ending. What happens next is all the squads go to the village hall where they in turn perform a viciously satirical sketch based some recent goings on in the community. Fights have broken out over it.
Our sketch went down well. I did, however, nearly get into a fight when I pissed in the sink in the gents and a guy went mental in an Eastern European accent and started pushing me around. Must be frowned upon over there. Then again we don't oppress Jews, so one mans poison and all that.
After the sketches it's Shetland Come Dancing!
A splendid time was had by all. Hoorah!
Only two more Fire Festivals to go. Norwick then Hillswick.
Here is an article wot I recently wrote about the goings on in the world of Astérix The Gaul.
Astérix and the Multi-National Publishing Company.
By Sandy Nelson
While 2009 sees literary heavy weights celebrate their anniversaries- Burns, Darwin, Douglas Adams (Hitch-hikers Guide To the Galaxy is 30 years old) - a little Gaulish village celebrates an anniversary of its own.
Armorica, the fictional setting of the Astérix series of comic books by writer Rene Goscinny and illustrator Albert Uderzo, has been holding out against the Romans for 50 years this year.
Since Astérix The Gaul was first published in 1959 our indominatable little villager and his invincible friend Obelix have kicked, punched and plotted their way through 33 books and numerous films defending their village from invasion and exploitation by Caesars huge Roman Empire in the spirit of liberté, egalité & fraternité
So, is there any hypocrisy in that Uderzo, 81, sole writer and illustrator of the series since his partners death in 1977, last month sold controlling interest of Les Editions Albert Rene, the family publishing firm ( including the right to produce new Astérix adventures after his death) to Hachette Livre, Frances largest publishing company? Yes, according to Uderzo’s daughter Sylvie Uderzo.
“Astérix is my paper brother” She told Le Monde on January 15th, “It is as if the gates of the Gaulish village had been thrown open to the Roman Empire. I am entering resistance against perhaps the worst enemies of Astérix, the men of finance and industry.” She added “[The deal] denies the values with which my father brought me up: independence, brotherhood, friendship and resistance.”
While they may be some sour grapes involved here, (Uderzo Jr. was fired from her position as managing director by Uderzo Snr. two tears ago,) she’s does have an exceptionally valid point.
In the book The Mansions of The Gods, for instance, Astérix and his cohorts formulate and carry out plans to prevent Roman property developers from tearing down the bountiful forest to build overpriced luxury flats using the kind of direct action that would make any Terminal 5 protester blush. In Astérix The Gladiator our hero goes positively mental when the Romans kidnap the village bard Cacophonix to be used to entertain the elite in Rome. The strength of Astérix’s loyalty to his friend pushes him to do things he has never done before, like a pre-Christian Jack Bauer. And Obelix and Co is a blatant attack on consumerism with Astérix hurt and angry when his best friend is cursed by greed. That doesn’t sound like the kind of character who would appreciate being sold off, franchised and potentially remodelled and overly merchandised.
The Astérix books began being printed in English in 1970. I have been reading them since 1975 when I learned to read. No matter how old you are you can open one up and find great pleasures. For the child there is the colour and action of the punch-ups and feasts. For the teenager there is clever wordplay, exotic locations and rich history to inspire your “doing Europe” dreams. For the adult there is the satire and social commentary. And all the way through there is a very obvious and very French sense of justice, resistance, and social responsibility. Some talk of the series being an allegory for French resistance against the Nazi’s during the Second World War. Others have theorised about its statements on the dangers of American economic imperialism, even up to the most recent book, 2005’s Astérix & the Falling Sky. Would the new authors, under the thumb of a multi-national, be allowed the freedom to make such overtly political statements in their stories?
Rene Uderzo said that he had placed Astérix in safe hands so that he could concentrate on writing and illustrating new adventures. His daughter, who still owns 40% of the company, however, claims her father has been influenced by “a handful of shadowy advisers.”
Last weekend he hit back saying , "To be accused by my own daughter, is already quite undignified," continuing, "The accusation made against me is not only inspired by the appetite for power, it also aims to insult Astérix readers by confusing my abilities as an author with that of a publishing house shareholder.”
I can’t help thinking of Astérix & the Roman Agent or Astérix & the Soothsayer where the villagers are manipulated by gossip and superstition into almost destroying themselves from within. Ironic? Appropriate?
So where does this leave us? The fans. The people who have read and re-read the books, who have bought the games and visited the theme park. They ones who will buy the 50th anniversary book when it is published in October. Should we worry? It was difficult enough to accept the post Goscinny books in the first place. As Peter Kessler, the author of The Complete Guide to Astérix, told The Guardian: “The problem is that Uderzo never really understood what had been created in Astérix. He hasn’t been able to cope with the endless reinvention that a series needs to remain great. And so he has fallen back on repetition and silliness.” Ouch!
In Uderzo’s defence though, he was the artist not the writer. But what an artist! How can we, the loyal fans, trust that these new artists will be able to keep the flare and subtleties of his iconic drawings? Are we now looking forward to substandard, standardised lowest common denominator stories drawn by numbers? Or will it be like Russell T Davies’s Doctor Who, all fanboys at the helm resorting former glories? Anne Goscinny, daughter of Albert, is not worried.
“Astérix is a very strong character.” She said “Astérix will guide those who take him in hand and not the other way around. I am very confident and I do not worry at all that he will be watered down.”
Let us hope so. And let us hope too that the Uderzo’s work it out in the spirit of the classic stories. As Astérix himself says to Getafix the Druid in The Mansions of the Gods as their village is becoming gentrified though outside influence, “Look how our village has changed, Getafix, the wonderful spirit of co-operation we used to have has disappeared...but I have a plan.”
(l-r: Martha, Sandy, Sandy, Elaine.)
