About Bob Dylan
4 days ago
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A fool and his money are soon parted
Bob.
Imagine for a moment that it is 1930 and you have saved £80 which you have lodged with the Midland Bank on the Tottenham Court Road. You are inordinately proud of this £80, it resides at the back of your mind and its comforting presence may be summoned when the workaday world overwhelms you with its tedium and pointlessness.
That £80 is destined to diminish; at first in trifling amounts, but as your infatuation gathers, with unforeseen haste. It will soon reside in Jenny's delicate little hands. She won't have grasped it, she won't have consciously tried to steal it from you, but there it will reside.
I don't normally like television adaptations of novels, they lose much and add what is inappropriate. Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky is an exception: perfectly pitched, perfectly acted, perfectly adapted.
Delusion, despair, and thwarted dreams have rarely been so uplifting.
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15 comments:
Yep, that's pretty much me at the minute. My 80 pound is already down to about 30 pound with South East Asia about to polish off the rest. Oh well, somebody has to be the fool, it might as well be me.
Stick to Laos mate, its the cheapest.
Poor Bob... What a fool.
Yes, and not the first or last.
I'm a little pressed for time.
I would be most grateful if you could cut out about 8 minutes of this by using the Herge Smith Method of filmmaking and perhaps adding a roboticized voiceover.
Philistine.
They didn't have robots in the 1930's you daft Canuck bint.
Fare nuff.
But they still didn't have proper clanky robots. They didn't appear until the 1950's.
So there.
I'm with Garfy on this one.
What do Canucks know anyway?
Piggy: We invented the Canadarm, for one thing.
They know how to grow wheat.
They also know that bears shit in the woods.
What more do you need to know.
Yeah, but the European robotic arm was superior in every respect, natch.
How would you and Piggy like a robotic foot up your arse?
Are you sure your replacement hip is up to such exertions?
I wouldn't want to disturb your elaborately crafted coiffure.
There's nowt wrong with my Mohican and I refuse to have the piss taken out of it.
Punk's not dead.
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