Stan Lee (1922 - 2018)

When I was a kid, I adored Spider-Man.

I first came across him through Spider-Man: The Animated Series on Fox Kids, produced and written by the brilliant John Semper. To my mind, it is and remains the definitive Spider-Man cartoon. It introduced me to the Marvel Universe, and it is in large part because of this series that I got interested in comics. To this day, whenever I read a Spider-Man comic, I can hardly help but read Spidey's lines with the voice of Christopher Daniel Barnes (the voice of the character in this series) in my head.

When I heard there was going to be a big blockbuster film, starring Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker/Spider-Man and Willem Dafoe as Norman Osborn/The Green Goblin, then to my 6 year-old self, it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened, ever. I remember the crushing disappointment when I found out it was to be rated 12, and the excitement that built up again when Dad told me that it had been reclassified as a PG in some areas (or a 12A, allowing me to see it as long as I was with a parent).

It was around the time that the new Spider-Man film was being heavily promoted on Fox Kids that I found out who Stan Lee was.

Here was an old guy with dark sunglasses and a distinct New Yorker accent, and he was explaining how he CREATED Spider-Man!

As far as I was concerned, this guy was the new Walt Disney! He created Spider-Man, AND all the other superheroes I was watching on television then, like The X-Men, The Incredible Hulk, The Fantastic Four? This guy with two first names (I remember thinking that was cool, but also weird) was an absolute legend!

I remember watching interviews with him from then on. When I got my first ever Spider-Man DVDs - some of the films, some of the animated series, there would be Stan Lee interviews, and I would consume them religiously, and play them over and over again. One in particular sticks out in my mind to this day, where I realised how underrated and underappreciated he must've been.

Lee spoke about how rare it was for him to be recognised, and how he couldn't understand some of his more famous friends who would sometimes tell him of how they hated being asked for an autograph. For Lee, he said that whenever someone came up to him and said, 'Hey, aren't you Stan Lee?', followed by 'the guy who created...' (whoever their favourite superhero was - invariably Spider-Man) and then 'Can I have your autograph?', he would smile that great big smile of his, thank them, and sign something for them. In Lee's words, being recognised and appreciated as the creator and writer of their favourite character was 'To me...the most flattering thing in the world.'

I remember how I used to ask friends about Stan Lee - friends who were fellow fans of Spider-Man, the Hulk, the X-Men etc., and they'd often look at me blankly. Maybe it was because I was a weird 6-7 year-old child who was interested in who created my favourite fictional characters.

But that all changed with the Marvel movies. After a few years of Spider-Man, Hulk, Fantastic Four, and many others transitioning to the big screen, (but before the Marvel Cinematic Universe even existed), Stan Lee became a regular fixture of Marvel films, making guest appearances and cameos wherever possible. In some cases, he even cameo-ed as himself, including in the final episode of my favourite Spider-Man TV series!

By the time the MCU was in full swing, it felt like virtually everyone was in on the joke, and it became part of the regular ritual of going to see any Marvel movie, to wait and pick out the tiniest blink-and-you'll-miss-him moment of the God of Marvel making his regular, inevitable appearance.

Today, Stan Lee is recognised the world over. His cameos are some of the most anticipated moments of one of the biggest film franchises on the planet, and any panel appearance by him at a science-fiction or comic book convention is one of the most exciting parts of those events.

But what was it that made Stan Lee, and his characters, so different? So unique? So loved? So cherished? It's not like he was the first person to create comic book superheroes. Superman, Batman, Captain America and others - they were around long before Stan Lee and Marvel Comics.

I think the answer is this.

The key emphasis, with virtually any of the Marvel Superheroes, is that underneath the mask or costume, the characters are honestly, brilliantly, and irretrievably, human.

I loved the Superman Christopher Reeve films as a kid too, but it was always the Clark Kent scenes that interested me the most.

Because the thing about Superman is that he is so overpowered, and meant to be such an idealised symbol of 'truth, justice, and the American way', and is himself not human - that he is difficult to relate to. Superman always gets the girl, because he can save her life and easily sweep her off her feet. He is adored by every section of his fictional city of Metropolis - even the tabloid newspapers!

Marvel heroes are different. Marvel heroes are human.

The thing about Peter Parker - aka The Amazing Spider-Man - is that when he first started, in the earliest comics, written by Stan Lee himself, he was nothing more than a teenager. And not only that, he was a geek. A nerd.

He wasn't cool, he wasn't handsome, he wasn't collected. He wasn't sporty, he wasn't lucky. He was, in fact, one of the unluckiest teenagers you could ever meet - even after he got bitten by a radioactive spider.

Everything conceivable that could go wrong for a teenage boy happened to Peter Parker. He had acne, he would get colds, he had trouble talking to girls, he was the unpopular kid, he was bullied, he struggled to get dates...

When he was a little older, he struggled to balance work, home and University life. He struggled to keep time. He struggled to pay the rent. People would think he was lazy. You name a problem, Peter Parker had it. He was an outcast - like so many of the kids and teenagers reading about him.

And then, when he put on the mask, and became Spider-Man, he became something different. Something more.

As Stan Lee said, one of the brilliant accidents of his and Steve Ditko's costume design for Spider-Man was that it covered his whole body. There was no visible skin, no holes for a mouth or eyes. From head to toe he was a hero in black, white, red and blue. And so, under that costume, theoretically, Spider-Man could be anybody. He could be black, he could be white, he could be Asian. Hell, Spider-Man could even be female! You never know, under that mask!

For generations, comic book, cartoon, TV series, film, and general superhero fans, have looked at the incredible roster of superheroes and supervillains, created by Stan Lee and beyond, and projected *themselves* onto them. As Lee often put it, the inherent appeal of Marvel characters was that readers could look at the ordinary lives of the extraordinary people on the page, and go 'Hey, that could be me!'

Stan Lee never talked down to his audience. From the oldest fanboy to the youngest child, he'd treat all of his fans the same - with credit for their intelligence, and respect. He never patronised his younger audiences. They felt as welcome a part of the Marvel family as any other fan. With his charm, and his wit, and his modesty, his New York twang and his winning smile, Stan Lee was a true, real-life hero to the young, and the forever young at heart. He touched so many lives, and so many people, and despite never having had the opportunity to see him at a convention, let alone meet the great man, I and so many others, felt like we knew him. It is to my everlasting regret that future generations may not know Stan Lee the way we all did.

Because you see, Stan Lee wasn't just some Walt Disney of the comic book world, or our creative idol.

Stan Lee was our friend.

He encouraged us to face front, true believers! He taught us that anyone could be a hero, and that with great power, must also come great responsibility.

At 95, he lived a long, successful, and happy life, and generation after generation of fans will be forever grateful that such a giant, such an inspiration, and such an ordinary, brilliant man, shared his time on this earth, his boundless creativity, and his big, open-hearted values, with us.

Rest in Peace, and in Power, Stan.

Forever.

Excelsior!

Remembrance Day, Respect, and The Three Poppies

Some unreconstructed thoughts on Remembrance Day:

- Poppies are great, and a really nice way of showing your respect. But only if you're actually bothering to donate to the Royal British Legion (or other relevant veterans charity) which is kind of the point. There are stories of TV news studios providing poppies for guests before interviews, and unless that guest has already donated to the RBL or intends to, it's kind of missing the point.

- People fought in WWI and WWII for people to have the rights that we enjoy today, and that includes freedom of expression. Someone may well choose not to wear a poppy. It doesn't make them a bad person, and for all you know they may have already donated to the Royal British Legion. Or they might be a war veteran themselves, who has chosen not to wear it for their own personal reasons (like WWII veteran Harry Leslie Smith). It doesn't mean they're not patriotic or respectful of war vets that have died.

- Other races and religions are not offended by the red poppy. No, they're really not. There were Indian and African soldiers that fought on the allied side in the world wars, and the British Army today is highly multicultural and multi-racial. They are not offended by poppies. That's a lie, originally cooked up by the far right to get you to try to hate Muslims and others.
I passed by plenty of people with Poppy stalls on the way into the Underground this week. Most of those people weren't white.

- Putting poppies on food packaging, or having people dress up in giant poppy costumes, is spectacularly missing the point. I happened to catch a clip or two of X Factor's Halloween week the other day, and they were all wearing poppies over the top of their Halloween costumes, and I have to say, it not only looked weird, but I would argue it was a bit disrespectful, to be honest. Halloween and Remembrance Day are tonally very different, wearing a poppy over your Mummy costume while you murder a Michael Jackson classic isn't the height of respect for the war dead.

- The size of your Poppy *really* doesn't matter. The Royal British Legion sell poppies in all shapes and sizes, from the traditional paper ones, to the larger silk versions, and to smaller pin badges. Jeremy Corbyn chose to wear a pin badge poppy today, on top of his raincoat and suit (yes, he wore a raincoat, given that it's London, in the middle of November). At his first ever cenotaph memorial as Labour leader, he also stuck around and chatted to the veterans, while the rest of Britain's current and former Prime Ministers (many of whom have continued to send off British troops into pointless wars) went off to a lavish state banquet. And Corbyn actually wants to increase *government* funding for homeless veterans, as opposed to just paying lip service to respect for soldiers.

- Plenty of people also choose to wear the white poppy, either instead of or alongside the red poppy. White poppies are not disrespectful, and they are not some new fad. They have been around since 1933, and were first distributed by the Co-operative Women's Guild. Many women wore them in honour of the husbands, brothers and sons they lost in the First World War. And in the run-up to WWII, many women wore them in protest against the march to war when politicians had promised them the previous war would've been the 'War To End All Wars'.

We can argue about the wisdom of that at the time, given that attempts to find a peaceful solution to Hitler's imperial tendencies demonstrably didn't work, but the point is, the white poppy is to symbolise a commitment to peace. The Peace Pledge Union distribute them today, and the aim is to remember victims (both servicemen and women) and civilians of war, and to continue to work towards peace. You can wear a white poppy or red poppy, or both, as many do, and you are not necessarily depriving money that would otherwise go to veterans. You can wear a white poppy *and* donate to the Royal British Legion or other veterans' charities.

- Having said that, the Peace Pledge Union also believe that really, war veterans should not have to rely on charity, and that the government should be the ones providing healthcare, medical care, therapy, a safe home etc., to veterans. There are thousands of homeless war veterans, and it shouldn't just be the job of the Royal British Legion to help them in their hour of need. Our government ought to be the main ones looking after them, given that they are the ones who sent them off to war in the first place.

- People also wear Purple Poppies, to commemorate the animals who have been used and fought with in war. That's perfectly legitimate and respectful too. Again, just because someone might wear a purple poppy instead of a red one, doesn't mean that they haven't donated to the Royal British Legion in private - again, the donation to the RBL (or other veterans charity) is the point.

- We shouldn't glorify war. The whole point of the poppy - the original point of Remembrance Day - was to not only remember those we have lost, but to resolve to avoid conflict and war in future. Almost every war and conflict starts with the failure of dialogue and descent into violence, and ends in a political agreement. It would be great if we could cut out the middle part, of so much death and destruction, and tried, wherever possible, to find a peaceful solution. War should be a last resort, not a first response.

- WWII in particular largely began with fear and loathing of the unlike, and the different. It came with not only providing simple solutions to complex problems, but with the simple solution often being to blame the other. The immigrant, the Jew, the gypsy, the disabled. Leaders also targeted people for their political beliefs - socialists, social democrats, communists. They would demonise the free press, and call them 'enemies of the people'.

Make sure that we don't let the same thing happen today, and that we don't let it happen in Britain. Don't blame Muslims, don't blame Jews, don't indulge in conspiracy theories or stereotypes about either, because they are dangerous. Be a citizen of the world as well as a citizen of this country. Look after and respect minorities, and champion liberty, and freedoms. That is and will be the most fitting tribute to those who fought and died to protect those rights.

The Influence of Popular Performers on The Political Sphere

Over the last year, since the autumn of 2017, I have been studying for a further year at the University of Kent, in Canterbury. Having completed my undergraduate degree in Drama and Theatre, with Upper Second Class Honours, I decided to stay on and do an MA in Theatre Making.

Towards the end of this MA, I wrote my first ever dissertation (having opted not to write one during my undergraduate degree). This was months of particularly gruelling work, with heavy research and reading into a variety of topics and subjects, albeit ones that I loved.

I decided to write this dissertation on "The Influence of Popular Performers On The Political Sphere." I have long been fascinated with the world of politics, and in recent years I have been fascinated by the potential effect of comedians, musicians, and other types of 'popular performers' have on the world of politics. Hence, I decided to write about that as my topic.

On the 31st August 2018, I submitted the longest single piece of work I've ever written. Despite the stress of it, and not knowing what my lecturers would think, I was immensely proud of it. After blood, sweat, tears and a few all-nighters, I had finally completed my dissertation, and with it, my MA degree. 

This week, I received my marks back for my Dissertation. The feedback from my lecturers who marked it was overwhelmingly positive, and I was delighted.

I got a mark of 72 - a First! It's one of the highest mark of my entire MA, and meant that I got a first overall for my Dissertation module, averaging at a 70.

As a result, I will be officially graduating next month, for the second time, on Friday 23rd November, 2018. I will be leaving the University of Kent, where I achieved an undergraduate and Master's degree, with a 2:1 overall in both, and a string of individual Firsts for modules and assignments along the way.

Anyway, particularly with the vindication of the marks and feedback, I'd now love to share this Dissertation with you. As I say, it's the longest single piece of work I've ever written, at around 13,500 words. There are 3 chapters, an introduction, and a conclusion. But it's up here now, for anyone that wants to read it. For anyone interested in politics (stand-up comedy, grime music or any and all of the above, then you're (hopefully) in for a treat.

(P. S. - In the dissertation, I try to explain Antonio Gramsci's ideas as simply as I can. But if you're having trouble with getting your head around them, then I'd really recommend this article by Georege Eaton: https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/observations/2018/02/why-antonio-gramsci-marxist-thinker-our-times. It places the ideas in a modern context and explains them nice and simply, so might be of particular use in Chapter 2.)

Anyway, enjoy!

H

Everbody's Talking About Jamie - Review

A New Musical by Dan Gillespie Sells and Tom MacRae

14th February 2017, The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield

 Jamie New is sixteen. He’s from Sheffield. And he has a secret; he wants to be a drag queen. Such is the setting for this most unusual of musicals...

The opening number, ‘Don’t Even Know It’, appears to owe something to Dennis Kelly and Tim Minchin’s Matilda: school kids in blazer and tie, dancing on old-fashioned desks as we briefly leave the mundanity of the classroom for the fantasy world of the children. Except these aren’t naughty young urchins; they’re Year 11s, about to take their GCSEs, being advised on a future career path. This isn’t so much Roald Dahl, as Russell T Davies - appropriate, given writer Tom MacRae’s history of writing for the Davies-era of Doctor Who. Jamie (John McCrea) is an out and proud sixteen year old, and, as with Davies’s dramas, it’s refreshing to see a gay character so comfortable in his own skin. Jamie is largely accepted and embraced by his multi-ethnic cohort, and in a day and age where RuPaul’s Drag Race is one of the top shows on Netflix, this musical feels firmly placed in the 21st Century. 

Like the Minchin musical that seemingly inspired some of the staging, the composer's voice shines through in every song; fans of Gillespie Sells’s band The Feeling will recognise his ear for a catchy pop tune, and just as easily imagine him singing each song as ‘Fill My Little World’ or ‘Sewn’. But even for those who don’t follow Gillespie Sells’s career religiously, the score is enjoyable and tugs at the heartstrings at the right moments.

Talented newcomer McCrea plays the titular Jamie with an irresistible charm worthy of the boy himself (the musical is based on the story of Jamie Campbell, featured in the BBC documentary Drag Queen at 16.) Jamie’s loving mother Margaret (Josie Walker), tries desperately to juggle being a single mother, enthusiastically encouraging and carefully raising her boy, while trying to maintain the charade that his erstwhile father (Spencer Stafford) still loves and cares for him. Margaret covers for his absence from events in Jamie’s life; after all, no-one wants to grow up resenting their parents. The picture she paints of the distant but ultimately caring father is so tragic that we wish it were true, despite seeing with our own eyes that it isn’t.

But Jamie is about more than that. As Director Jonathan Butterell said at the Q&A afterwards, the show is not actually a niche musical about a 16 year old wannabe-drag queen; but a universal story about a boy and his Mum. There are many ‘Jamies’ out there, he said, and in the current political climate, a story like this encourages those Jamies to be open, proud, and say ‘we’re here, we’re real, and we’re not going away’. In an age of a more socially conservative backlash, exemplified by Brexit and Trump, to, what was, arguably, a growing liberal order, Jamie is a loud proclamation that we should be who we want to be; and, like all good drag queens, it does it in six-inch heels.

_________________________________________________________________

This article was originally written as part of a university assignment. It has been published here, in full.  Everybody's Talking About Jamie has since transferred to the Apollo Theatre in the West End, and now stars Layton Williams in the title role. Tickets available here.

Gene Wilder

Excuse the inaccurate trousers and trainers, but given the comparison I'll make between Wilder's Wonka and a certain other character, then perhaps, some red converse trainers were rather appropriate....

Wow....

R.I.P, Gene Wilder.

Blimey. Quite a thing, to think that he's gone.

Willy Wonka. Always the best.

The Johnny Depp film may have stuck slightly closer to the original book, but nothing compares to this wonderful man's interpretation.

I remember reading an article, several years ago, in an issue of Doctor Who Magazine, which described, in descending order, a dozen or so instances of actors in films or TV shows, who, while not *actually* playing the Doctor, might as well have been, for their interpretation of the given character. Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka topped that list.

Not only was it his wonderful eccentricity, unpredictability and general sense of other-wordly-ness, but his costume, with the bow tie and velvet jacket, is vaguely reminiscent of the Doctor of the time, Jon Pertwee, and his costume in general is very Doctor-ish. Plus, as the article pointed out, all that that scene in the tunnel needed, where he's reciting creepy rhymes, and lights are going off all over the place and with the tension and music building, is that familiar Doctor Who theme sting that came with the cliffhanger at the end of an episode.



I was lucky enough to be able to play a version of Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka at an event in Newham earlier this year, supervising a game where visiting children would look for and find a Golden Ticket. As well as the odd look of wonder and amazement from some kids, I was approached for a few photos and selfies. Much like has often been said about the Doctor, it wasn't so much me they wanted a photo with or had such excitement for, but the affection they had for the *character*, which they would project onto me in portraying it.

It was an immense pleasure sort-of playing a part that really, I feel I could have made more effort to fill the shoes of. I hope that I get the opportunity to do so again at some point, so that I can put even more effort into channeling the indomitable Gene Wilder.

What a thrill.

Sad to see him pass, although he will always live on, for many of us, '...in a world of Pure Imagination...'

Sir Terry Wogan...

Goodnight, Terry.

I'm afraid, while I could sympathise with and feel the collective sense of loss that people felt when it came to David Bowie and Alan Rickman, neither of them had an especially deep, personal connection to my own life. Although they were always sort of there, and I was aware of them, and enjoyed their music (in Bowie's case) or performances (with both of them), I didn't exactly grow up with them.

Sir Terry Wogan was different.

When I think of Terry Wogan, I'm back in my Mum and Dad's old kitchen at home. I'm ten years old, sat at the kitchen table, eating my cereal, in my Sellincourt Primary School uniform, getting ready for the day ahead. I'm listening to this gentle Irishman's voice. Warm, good-humoured, witty, helping us all  (all 8 million of his listeners) to wake up in the morning.

I'm hearing him read Janet and John, and while not really understanding why him, everyone else in the studio, and Mum and Dad, are laughing so much, being amused and bemused by their enjoyment and laughter.



I'm sat watching the Eurovision song contest as he gently pokes fun at all of the acts on show.

I'm watching him host the Children In Need telethon, having a laugh and a joke, struggling to cope with and understand some of the newer elements such as texting, tweeting, using Facebook, etc., but carrying on like a trooper.

I'm sitting at the computer, watching old clips of him hosting Children In Need in his heyday, or doing his chat show - his segments interviewing the stars of Doctor Who, past and present (as well as that one brilliant clip of him interviewing Baldrick while Blackadder supervises).

I don't think that it would be unfair to say that Terry Wogan was a bit past his prime by the end. While there was something so lovely about his commitment to Children In Need, which I think said a lot about him, in the last few years I could see him struggling a bit with the trials and tribulations of such live broadcasting, and I didn't consider it to be a great loss last year when he had to give it a miss on that occasion because of ill health (though naturally I didn't wish him to be in ill health). I remember thinking that, despite being a few years his junior, Terry seemed a fair bit more frail and less able to cope with presenting demands towards the end than his peer, Sir Bruce Forsyth, is currently.



But I, as I'm sure so many others will, remember Sir Terry Wogan in his prime. Whenever they consider that to be, and in whatever medium. Blankety Blank, The Wogan talk show, Children In Need, Eurovision, Radio 2. Everyone has their own special little memories of Terry Wogan.

When I woke up this morning and saw people paying tributes to Wogan, I couldn't believe it. I was in shock. Terry Wogan, gone?

I remember distinctly listening to the last breakfast show link, as it went out. Of course, Wogan would go on to host a live show on Sunday mornings a few months later, but it was never quite as good, or had the same charm, of Wake Up To Wogan.

At the time, watching interviews with people as they heaped praise on Wogan as his time on the breakfast show was coming to an end, and listening to the final show, I got a sense of the enormous love and affection for this man, and I knew I was going to miss his morning show, but I couldn't fully grasp it all, even knowing that he'd been such a big figure in broadcasting for so many decades before. And I wasn't that worried, as I knew I'd still see him on Children In Need.
 
But now, looking back, thinking about him today, I get it.

When I sat and listened to this last breakfast show link again, I felt this great sense of nostalgia, and loss, knowing that Terry Wogan has passed away, and I burst into tears. I find if difficult to stop crying for very long even now. Every time I listen to the clip, I well up.
If you can bear to, I recommend you listen to this. Over half a decade later, it now feels like an even more fitting goodbye from the man himself, who we all felt we knew in some way, all considered like a friend, an uncle or Granddad, even if we'd never met him face-to-face.

The moment that really gets to me is when Terry says "you, my listener". Doesn't that just sum him up? This man had over 40 years of experience, he had an audience on Wake Up To Wogan of over 8 million people...and yet his last, parting remark, as his show always was, was not to address it as if he was talking to millions, not as if he was in front of some huge crowd...

But to one person. An intimate style of speaking just to one person - and yet, he spoke to everyone.

Farewell Terry. Goodnight, Mr Wogan.




“Hang on: there’s 60 million people in the country – what are the other 52 million listening to?” – Terry Wogan, on hearing his radio show audience had passed 8 million....

Snoopy & Charlie Brown: The Peanuts Movie

On the 9th January, 2016, 3 generations of Mendozas saw The Peanuts Movie - based on the popular comic strips and cartoons by Charles M Schulz.

Dad had always been a huge fan of Snoopy as a child, and this had carried through into adulthood. To this day, we still have the odd Snoopy visible around the house from his extensive collection, and there's at least a few at my paternal Granny's house, too.

Through Dad's love of Snoopy/Peanuts as a child, his parents ended up loving it, and through my awareness of this, I took an interest too. I remember we had a video copy of Snoopy, "Flash Beagle" that I watched a lot as a kid, and at my grandparents house we had a copy of the film "Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown." I also watched many of the other films and Christmas Specials over the years, with either Granny and Grandpa or Dad.

When we first heard that Blue Sky Studios were making a feature-length film, we were apprehensive, to say the least. Would it do the original series/films justice? Or would they go too far in trying to modernise it for a Hollywood audience? It could very easily be another Magic Roundabout - which, while I enjoy immensely as a good film in its own right, Dad is right that CGI animated film didn't retain nearly the same level of charm as the original series.


And then, we saw this trailer:

Suddenly, we were at ease. The opening moments, using the 2001: Space Odyssey music, lead you down one line of thinking, especially as the earth morphs into Charlie Brown's CGI head, but then....

That moment where that music stops, Snoopy appears, and the original Peanuts music begins, all worries are dispelled. As Dad said, it was as if those producing the film were quietly saying to the fans, "Don't worry - this is safe in our hands." Even in what is just a 60-second teaser, you can feel the charm and sense of humour that was so present in the original cartoons. Even the style of 3D animation was great - you weren't being given a full 360-degree view of the environment and characters, so it still had a two-dimensional feel to it.

Nevertheless, the use of pop music in some subsequent trailers had made me, at least, a bit more nervous - love pop music though I do, mainstream sounding pop music was never a staple of the Peanuts cartoons and it wouldn't have been great if the film was just filled with an entirely pop-based soundtrack.

So, while quietly confident that I wouldn't be disappointed, I sat down in the cinema with Mum, Dad, my younger brother George, and younger sister Ruby, to see the film. After a few too many trailers, and an Ice Age short featuring 'Scrat' which, while enjoyable, made me feel the Ice Age shark had most certainly been jumped, the film began.

The film was absolutely beautifully done. A true labour of love.

The music, the mood, the sense of humour, all of it felt so faithful to the original cartoon. (Warning: some slight spoilers ahead in the rest of the paragraph): There was no massive, overarching one-off storyline that took the characters to a different place, no grand, Hollywood-style adventure, it felt very much like a compiled mini-series of stories that would be right at home in the original cartoons (albeit with an overrarching narrative running through). Even scenes of Snoopy flying his kennel like a proper plane, seen in the original series but could never have been achieved on the same scale in hand-drawn animation, felt totally faithful to the humour, heart and mood of the cartoons.

Without saying exactly why, I wept at the end. It was the one thing that I felt deviated ever so slightly from lots of the tropes of the old comics and books, but it did so with such class, feeling and narrative reasoning that it felt completely right and justified.

While I'm not sure it would have nearly the same resonance for those who didn't watch Snoopy cartoons or read the Peanuts strips as a child, I do think the film is good enough in its own right to enjoy as a family whether you're familiar with the characters or not.

But if you are, then Snoopy and Charlie Brown will feel extra special. In many ways, it feels like a love letter to the fans, and all those that used to watch it, with lovely easter eggs scattered throughout, lots of laughs, and a good story.

Especially if you have ever enjoyed watching or reading Snoopy/Charlie Brown/Peanuts, go and see this film.

I think I can say, with reasonable certainty - it doesn't disappoint ;)

My Blogger Went To Uni, and All I Got Was One Lousy Blog Post...

Being at uni for a full year, you'd think that a budding writer like me would be using such an exciting new experience to write about it.

Yeah....about that.....

See, not long after I actually arrived at The University of Kent, I got involved with InQuire - the student newspaper. Mum had encouraged me to try to do this as soon as was practical, to further develop my writing skills, practice writing short form pieces to a deadline, all that kind of thi ng.

So, over the course of the year, I've written various articles for InQuire.

The trouble is, given that this blog only really sees sporadic activity at the best of times anyway, then between writing the odd column for InQuire, and working on various essays, then I've not really spent much time blogging about my actual experience of uni. Only one blog post in the last year or so has been specifically focused on uni life, and the rest mostly just reference it in passing.

So, what I thought I'd do, is share some of my articles on here, and you can see what I've been up to in the last year, writing-wise. You can also see how well (or not!) my writing has progressed in that time.

Hope you enjoy!

The Male Feminist - On being a feminist, and a profound (and slightly scary) experience I had, not long after arriving at uni. Published Oct 17th, 2014. 

"I think it's time to face the music." - On The X Factor, and why I now have very little time for it... Published Oct 20th, 2014. 

The Best TV Of 2014 - My pick of some great TV that was broadcast last year. Published Jan 12th, 2015. 

"Oh, I don't vote. It's not like it'll make a difference." - On the importance of voting in elections. Published Jan 27th, 2015.  

Is Canterbury making busking bust? - On the restrictions introduced to busking in Canterbury, and my own experience of buskers, with reference to Charlotte Campbell. Published Jan 30th, 2015. 

Cameron: Refusing to take part in the TV debates, is not only an insult to young people, but shows utter contempt for the electorate as a whole - On David Cameron's refusal to take part in the General Election TV Debates. Published Mar 17th, 2015.

 

E1S4 - Eliot College

A little prior to starting life at the University of Kent, I discovered this blog post, by one of my predecessors. He had lived in the exact same room that I was going to be living in, from 1970-71. It was a weird thing to read about: the experience of someone that had lived in that exact same accomodation - that exact same room.

When I first started at Kent, I had intended to do a little video tour of my room - for those who might not get a chance to see it while I lived there. I was going to do it during fresher's week, but I hadn't really done much to make the room my own. I thought I'd wait til I had some posters up, then do it.

Then, like any student, I was a bit lax when it came to keeping it tidy. I resolved to do it when I had actually cleared up my room.

I then cleaned my room, but kept forgetting about it.

Suddenly, what do you know, 9 months go by, and I was moving out. All I have are these photos of how the room was when it was empty:

This is how I left the room, as its inhabitant in the University's 50th year, ready for a fresher to arrive in September, and start their own journey.

I don't really have any photos of the room as it was with all my things in it, but like the blog post linked above, I can describe it.

The back wall above the bed had two posters: one large Doctor Who one featuring the TARDIS on Gallifrey...

The other, a little more sentimental: this poster, which I designed, from 'A Penny For Your Thoughts' - the Year 13 BTEC Drama production I did at Ashcroft:

And finally, on the wall opposite the bed was a poster prominently featuring Peter Capaldi as The Doctor, with smaller pictures of  each of his 12 predecessors:

The chair below this poster was covered with a lovely fluffy blanket that was given to me by Janice, Paul, Marteli and Eliza the previous Christmas. On the back of the chair was often Matt The Wab:

The notice board had a certificate for Matt, and a letter from my Great Uncle Tony - praising my own letter-writing ability. A source of great pride for me!

My desk had my laptop, and a small digital photo frame which I occasionally switched on when I missed home. Lots of photos from my days at Ashcroft and hanging out at home, many of which can be seen elsewhere on this blog.
The rest of the desk was largely cluttered with various bits and pieces - papers, folders, a fruit bowl that I frequently filled (yes, really!)

My shelves above my desk had various books. Some relating to my course: The Empty Space by Peter Brook. Getting The Joke and Britain Had Talent by Oliver Double (one of the lecturers here at Kent.) Lots of non-curriculum books that I've still not got around to reading properly - Caitlin Moran's Moranthology, Charlie Higson's The Fallen, plenty of Doctor Who books, fictional and factual. At the start of the year I had a jar of peanut-flavoured pretzel nuggets (look them up) and later on in the year I had this prize for one of the articles I wrote for InQuire, the student newspaper:

The shelf below: I'd keep a cereal box or porridge, along with a box of teabags, and then on the other side, various DVDs. Lots of Doctor Who again, but also a few favourite films of mine: Chaplin's The Great Dictator, Peter Morgan's The Deal, The Queen, and The Special Relationship.
Tony Benn: Will and Testament. The Elephant Man, Richard Pryor Live....all sorts.


The very top shelf had two more Doctor Who things, but with some sentimental value attached: models of the TARDIS and a Dalek respectively, originally given to me (on a cake!) by Luciano and his family for my 17th birthday (pictured here):

But really, there's more to the room than those personal touches from the past.

There's the memories made while there too.

Just tiny little things.

Sitting there chatting to Stu on the first day. Talking to Navreet on the first night of fresher's because we both lived in Eliot and didn't fancy queuing for ages to get into Venue having already done the campus bar crawl.
Sitting in there chatting to Gemma and Stu. Having Ciaran over each week to watch Doctor Who in the autumn.

Skype calling Uncle Gordon in Australia. Video calls with Becky, Mÿca & Nicole or Kai, Yasmin, Luciano, Mum & Dad and whoever might be visiting who I otherwise wouldn't be able to see because of being away. 

Hannah, Rosie and the rest of the #MakeItMcintosh campaign team coming round, and housing the props for the video in my room so that they didn't have to lug them around campus.

Recording a 'Happy Birthday' video for my friend Charlotte Campbell.

Dave, Beth, Stu, Gemma and co. hanging around before and after Monkeyshine on a Thursday.

Philippa and Edward joining us to watch silly videos on YouTube til the small hours of the morning.

Watching the Tony Benn film with Rob and laughing at the great man's one-liners.

Watching Wallace & Gromit's The Wrong Trousers for the first time in years with Edward and Ciaran, and getting teary eyed out of nostalgia and realising quite how sad the moments with Gromit in the kennel were.

So many of these are just tiny things. Little moments. But many of them are small, intimate moments of friendship and enjoyment that I will cherish as highlights of my first year.

There are obviously many, many others from my first year at Kent, but they could've happened regardless of where I was living. But these moments were specific to that room.

Eliot may not be much - in fact my friend Alex has some less than generous things to say about the building itself - but for me personally, it was enough.

I've made some truly great friends thanks to being in Eliot. Made some truly great memories.

And despite having a nice, more communal student house (with a proper kitchen!) to live in next year, then I'll miss it.

So long, Eliot College. You were a maze (literally), but for 9 months, you were my home.

How Tinie Tempah disappointed me...

A few weeks ago, I found out from a friend that one of my favourite artists, Tinie Tempah, was going to be playing an intimate gig in Canterbury - at Club Chemistry.

Despite having been here at the University of Kent half a year, I had not yet been to Chemistry. But the opportunity to see Tinie, for £35 (significantly cheaper than usual) and in a club (significantly smaller than the sorts of venues he normally plays now) seemed too good to pass up.

I had been looking forward to it ever since.

I first saw Tinie live in 2010, at KOKO in London. His first album had just come out and he was fast becoming a bigger star than Dizzee Rascal. Since then, I have seen him a total of five times (excluding the other night) at gigs and festivals.

I was managing my expectations a little more with this. Having been disappointed when Wiley played a set at The Venue (on campus) earlier in the year, and he had come on pretty late - certainly a lot later than I was used to for a gig - then I was prepared for Tinie not being onstage until at least midnight. I was fast discovering that gigs in clubs by big artists tend to be shorter, and start later anyway.

But I knew I wasn't going to feel that same sense of disappointment that I'd felt with Wiley. Where the main issue with him was his performance was unremarkable, then my previous experience of Tinie told me that even if he only played 5 or 6 songs, he'd make them count.

I checked Twitter earlier in the day, and discovered Tinie was due in Canterbury for 2.30am.

Pretty late, especially given that the doors for the event opened at 10.00, and there'd be no admittance after 11.00, but I thought, 'That's fine. It's a long time to wait, but it will definitely be worth it.'

I arrived at around 10.45. On top of the £35 ticket fee, I had discovered it was possible to purchase a meet-and-greet with the man himself for another £30. It was a little steep, but I'd been wanting to meet Tinie face-to-face for 5 years - who knows when another opportunity like that might come up? I bought it and got a different coloured wristband that would allow me to meet him and have a photo op.

So I waited. There aren't really many of my friends here at Kent who like Tinie - certainly not to the same degree that I do - so I was on my own. I saw my friend Verity there, from my course, and chatted to her and her mates a bit, but essentially, I was stuck twiddling my thumbs for 4 and a half hours, while we waited for Tinie and DJ Charlesy to arrive.

I was bored. I'm not going to lie to you, I really was. Even for the other people that enjoy clubbing much more than I do anyway (really not my thing unless I have a lot of mates with me), then I could hear people moaning that Tinie wasn't due to arrive until 2.30.

2.30am finally arrived....and no Tinie. There had been some movement from security guards, who'd gone towards the emergency exit, but it would be another ten minutes before him and Charlesy appeared.

When they did, Charlesy went straight for the turntables. 'Here we go...', I thought. Things were about to get started - they were about to get interesting. As we all looked on, Tinie himself was being ushered through the front of the crowd, to the VIP area. There was some champagne on the table, which Tinie started pouring himself some of as he got set up, and Charlesy was doing a good job of getting the crowd going.

But to be fair to Charlesy, as much as I like him, and think he's a great DJ, then having had four and a half hours of DJ music being pumped out the speakers, I was ready for Tinie.

The rest of the audience seemed to be too - all eyes were on him as he set up, said hello to a couple of the VIPs and progressively drank more champagne.

By this point it was nearing 3.00am. Tinie had tested the mic out a couple of times about 5-10 minutes before, but he seemed to be taking an awfully long time. He kept checking his phone and chatting to one of the guys he had there with him.

He then started pouring champagne into cups, and passing it around to nearby members of the audience - both those that were and weren't in the VIP area. Very exciting for everyone. A gig with Tinie Tempah passing around free drinks before going onstage? People were hardly going to complain.

I was then beckoned over by one of the security guards - they were apparently doing the meet-and-greet right there and then. 'Okay,', I thought. Do it now so that he can come on and do his set, and then slip away quickly afterwards - fair enough.

I went up into the VIP area, and waited. I was stood very near to Tinie, and after a few minutes, the guy Tinie had been talking to turned round to me, said hi, and introduced me. I smiled, shook Tinie's hand, and told him what a big fan of his I was. I told him how I'd been to see him at KOKO in 2010, and how Dad had taken me because I was too young at that point to go by myself. Tinie thanked me and seemed true to the idea of him I had built up over the years - friendly and gracious.

I did wonder when the photo op would arise though. Another guy stood near me asked for a selfie and seemed to be actively discouraged by the guy Tinie had with him.

After a few minutes of Tinie still standing there, not having performed yet, Louise (who I had bought my meet-and-greet through) came over. She gave us some rather unsettling news, just out of Tinie's earshot.


Apparently Tinie wasn't going to play. It sounded as if, when he first came in, he wasn't even that enthralled by the idea of the meet-and greet.

We couldn't believe what we were hearing. There must have been some kind of misunderstanding, I thought. He wouldn't do that - not Tinie. This is a guy who has practically built up his reputation over the years as being friendly and gracious to his fans, and for giving everything 100%.

After a little longer (bearing in mind this is probably at least 3.30am now), Tinie started making his way back through the crowd.

Ah, here we go. Better late than never. He'd do his set and it'd all be worth it. Obviously there had been a misunderstanding after all. No matter.

 "Alright, since I've come all the way to Canterbury, I might as well do one song for you guys..."

Oh...

It seemed as if Louise hadn't been wrong after all. Either Tinie had changed his mind, or had been persuaded.

He performed Pass Out, which naturally went down well, but him starting with that wasn't filling me with much confidence that I might have heard him wrong. Pass Out is traditionally the song Tinie ends his set with, it being one of his biggest ever hits to this day.

He finished Pass Out, and then said he would do one more 'before he went'. He did Tsunami (Jump), and then said "Canterbury, you've been great, I'll see you on tour!", before putting down the mic and heading for the door.

And that was it.

Charlesy played one more song from the tables, and then packed up his things and followed.

We were all pretty confused. And to be honest, some people were livid.

There were certain people who, combined with their ticket price, and whatever it had cost them and/or their friends to be VIPs, spent over £100.

And as far as we were concerned, Tinie had arrived late, kept everyone waiting, and then played 2 songs.

Now look - I'd be lying to you if I said the performance he put in wasn't a good one. It's Tinie - of course it was good.

But it wasn't massively special. It didn't make me feel terribly excited to have him there, like so many of his previous gigs had done.

It had been a long night. Over the course of the 5 hours (at least) waiting for his arrival, I had gotten drunk, but had sobered up again.
I had paid £30 extra for a meet-and-greet with one of my heroes, and while the brief conversation I had had with him was nice, it barely lasted 30 seconds (if that), and there were some people who had paid for that same privilige who didn't even get up there to talk to him. In that sense, I was lucky.

I didn't really know what to do. I didn't feel angry as such, in the way that a lot of other people seemed to be, but I was bitterly, bitterly disappointed.

This man, who I had admired since I was 14/15...who I had considered a role model to me in many ways...had let me down. And he'd let his fans down.

He had turned up to a gig he had been booked for, and it sounded as if he had essentially got there and gone 'Nah, I don't really feel like it now', and only done a couple of songs because he was persauded, or felt a sense of obligation.

If what we heard about his reaction to the idea of meet-and-greets (which will have been agreed prior to his arrival) is true, one could be forgiven for thinking that those he spoke to, like me, he spoke to not because he wanted to talk to his fans and make them feel special (as I would have expected) but because he felt obligated.

I spoke to Louise briefly on my way out. It was very uncomfortable - she'd been so nice, and friendly and accomodating, with regard to organising it for me to meet my hero, that I felt guilty to be asking...

But the night had left me at least £60 out-of-pocket, for what was really a shorter gig than the last one I'd seen Tinie at (at the O2, last year) for two thirds of the money.

I said to Louise straight off that I appreciated and understood it wasn't her or Chemistry's fault. But bless her, she immediately understood and asked for me to be given back the £30 that I had paid for the meet-and-greet.
There was talk of full refunds for tickets, which those who asked for have all since received. Chemistry had tried to get in touch with Tinie's management to ask them to pick up the fee, but since they wouldn't pick up the phone, Chemistry generously refunded us all themselves.

I trudged back to the bus stop, waited ages for my Nite Bus, and came back to campus.

Let me be clear: Had I known what I was getting into, I would not have been disappointed. Had we been told from the off that Tinie would only be playing a couple of songs and passing around drinks, I would have probably been okay with that. It wouldn't have been what I'd have hoped for, but I wouldn't have felt cheated, and I suspect most other people wouldn't have either..

Naturally though, there is no way even Chemistry could have known that that was how things would pan out.

My perception of Tinie for the last 4-5 years has been as a humble, dedicated and caring artist, who really respected his fans and loves what he does. He turns up, he gives each performance 100%, and he gets the job done.

But now, for the first time ever, I am seriously questioning that perception of him.

Judging by the angry reactions I saw both while I was there and on twitter, so are a lot of people.

For some people that will have been the first time they saw Tinie live. What does that say to them, about what kind of artist he is?

I don't know the context. Perhaps there is a deeper reason as to why Tinie only did two songs and no photo-ops. Perhaps there's a rational explanation.

To be honest, I really damn well hope there is. Because I want so badly to let it go. To forgive what has happened.

It will be interesting to see if there is an explanation given.

But regardless of whether there is or not, then I think a lot of people are owed an apology for the events of that night.

This man was my hero. This was the guy that really got me into rap music. He makes great music, he's got a great sense of humour, he seems nice and polite and humble - everything I've ever heard about him suggests he's one of the nicest and most respected guys in the industry, and that he works incredibly hard, for himself and for his fans. And that he treats them all with the utmost respect.

But, despite the amiable brief conversation I had with him that night, then his actions...that wasn't the Tinie Tempah that I feel I know and love.

And for those who have not followed his career as closely as I have in recent years, then they may never know or be convinced of any different.

And that breaks my heart.