The Pig's sixty-first birthday slipped quietly by. He had lunch with his mother (who had brought with her his favourite quiche) and in the evening enjoyed (very much so) a meal of barbecue pork ribs, washed down with the last of the 2001 Barolo. Altogether a very passable sort of a day.
I wrote in glowing terms about Aaron Sorkin last week, and took another side-swipe at David Hare in doing so. Well, as it happens the Groupie and I took in an old Hare movie last night and I haven't changed my mind. I don't deny that Hare has oodles of talent but his politics can't help but intrude themselves and his characters (and this is where Sorkin wins hands down) speak in clumsy and portentous exposition. Having said that, Page Eight is a solid and reassuringly old-fashioned spy film. Not all the online reviews agreed but I thought Bill Nighy was rather good. 66/100.
What are we to make of politics? Quelle shower de shit, as the French don't say. I've been patient with Bors Johnson but his arrant mendacity on the ridiculous business of the renovation of the Downing Street flat is a bridge too far. Answer the bloody question you massive tool. Mind you, don't start me on bloody Keir Starmer, an unprincipled mediocrity who got his knighthood for banging-up wrong-uns. Smarmy lawyer indeed.
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