Oh dear!
I've not even got to the airport and my flight is already delayed an hour... off to see Dingo for christmas. Looking forward to that.

My disappointment was tempered a few moments ago when a really dull car drove past with what looked like a dull estate-agent driving it, pumping out a 180bpm version of Gossip's "Standing in the Way of Control", voiced, I would guess, by Pinky and Perky, those lovable roguish pigs who seem to have found a new career singing for ned/chav/scally dance tracks.
Though as I only ever hear this shit coming out of cars, I'm not really sure that it can be classed as "dance" music.

Wonder what Beth Ditto would make of it?

Not too much to report. I've still got a bit of a cold, so off to bed for me with a copy of The Wire! Thrilling. Doctor tomorrow: this has been going on too long.

Watched John Water's A Dirty Shame earlier. Or should I say tried to watch? I gave up after half an hour. It's bloody awful. An endless stream of teenage dirty jokes in celluloid form. It has none of the sophistication of Pecker or Cecil B Demented, none of the quirky commercial charm of Hairspray or Serial Mom and none of the shock value of Pink Flamingoes or Female Trouble. I'm sure that Waters would argue that it's a satire of middle-American prudishness, but it is merely tiresome. In terms of cinematic disappointments, it's right down there with Aronofsky's The Fountain.

Oh, and Tracey Ullman is a dreadful ham.