Production Values

Dear Jihadi-Video-Directors,

A polite request on behalf of the Freebeard. I must admit I have never been a fan of your productions. You really have failed to grasp the history of film and especially documentary making.

I know that we really won't see eye to eye on many things in film history, and you always seem to resort to trying to assasinate me, when I get to the bit about Goddard. I suspect, though, that might not be becuase of hatred of the man's ouvre.

But - moving on - I really have to ask you lot to sort out your production values. Alright the "documentary style" is all in, with the shaky camera a la Greengrass but , seriously, that dialogue. Who's your writer. The south london gangsta who wasn't hard enough for "Kidulthood"?

If you're going to go around "representin'" us poor muslims and make videos like this then please can you ask the world not to "mess wit da Muslims" in a refined and a Recieved Pronunciation manner. The finger jabbing doesn't work either - it's as if the guy is trying to press a lift button that's too high for him.

I mean, you're not really pushing the boat out here, it's just like those low rent knock-offs produced in the CIA backlot somewhere in Kandahar, Kansas.

Next time, try a bit of lateral thinking. How about a haiku - you know to bring in a middle class flavour. That way you could confuse Guardian readers as well as heap destruction on the evils of modern capitalism.

There is even on-site assistance, you could ask the MI5 guys watching you make the video which take works best. Anyway, remmember, even if you're pushed you could use Microsoft Moviemaker to add spice and drama to the whole thing - after all , the Devil provided the best tools for his minions.
FB

Mature/ Student : of Oxymorons and Learning Shock

As no one actually reads my badly typed scribblings, complete with terrible spelling and pointless, puncuation. I have realised that the best place for me is academia. That way I can spend hours in hairsplitting conversation with high minded individuals and garuntee that I get absolutley no work done.

So, the FB has gone back to University. This is more traumatic than you think. I was under the impression that it would involve careering on the infromation-super-highway of knowledge, via a few coffee shops and dozing through lectures. I was wrong.

That old tactic of leaving the book somewhere near the bed and betting on the words making their own way into your head by the time you woke up in the morning - busted. I had to open one. Even worse. I had to open more than one.

The worrying thing is that when I open the books the words decide to swap position and head off in the oposite direction to where logic is suppose to take them. It's as if they decide to hold campaign meetings when the book is closed and carry out their dastardly plan to make me look daft(er) when I get round to staring at them like a man who handed Bernie Madof the keys to the safe.

I also had the impression from my undergrad days that Mature Students had the right to sit in the corner and pontificate in their wise way to the (rather attractive, doe eyed) undergrads as a service to the field of knowledge. This would compensate for the ravages of time and high-carb diet, of course. It was a cunning long-run strategy (see I was awake for at least five minutes of Economics) that was derived by my genius and, as usual, was a noble(read halfwitted) failure.

I have had the opportunity to meet new and varied people from all around the world who have given me such joy. I will be introducing them to you lot later.

More importantly, as we would say in the current economic climate, there is a loss of capital in the FB market and I can say the following quite happily when faced with Potential-Mother-In-Law types:

I am currently unemployed. :)

Regrowth - Return Of The Beard

Dear Readers (yes I know that the only entities read this are the four and a half voices inside my bald head that resonate on the odd occasion.)

I am very very sorry for the age that it has taken me to get back to writing the unerringly dodgy missives about my non-life. I hope to correct that on a more regular basis.

Anyhow. I have been travelling the world in search of enlightenment and self-awareness, usually in seat 40C, with variously weird people sitting to my left and closer the emergency exit than I would like them to be.


This had two major effects on my life. The first is that I have been able to experience the depth and breadth of our fine race, all the way from shiny Dubai to the tip of Africa. I have even been to the depths of the primitive, rustic backwoods of civilisation but we only stopped over in Kansas due to a tornado warning.

The second was a period away from the Mummy. A mixed blessing. One being away from her wonderful spirit was sad. The interruption of the regular rhythms of a close symbiotic relationship symbolised by the immortal words "Come and eat. Ohh and lose that belly" was quite depressing.

This was in no way whatsoever offset by her inability to ambush me with more suitable matches. Being at 30,000 feet (very high for metric people) in a pressurised cabin, with the globe rushing past underneath, made insanely difficult for the Mummy to sneak in surprise visits from a collective of moustache wearing dudes with questions about property - which was, erm too bad.

Anyhow, those days are soon coming to an end. I will be ground bound again and enjoying a more sedentary life. And I have many many stories to relay to you ... but not quite now. The Mummy says we have to go and visit some old friends.

FB versus Pharoah Part One

Cultural difference is a wonderful things and the FB is not averse to celebrating it. In the spirit of adventure, exploration and because I wasn’t paying for the ticket I decided to culturally explore Egypt. Yes, culturally explore, nothing else I’ll have you know my erstwhile (and no doubt imaginary) audience.

Learnt many a wonderful things in Egypt, not only did the Pharaohs built magnificent pyramids, constructed huge monuments and generally left a stone relief of their greatness in every nook but they did a lovely line in Scarab chocolates and natty Tut Aknh Amun headdresses. This was backed up by superb customer service and special prices – just for me. Its one small step for a similie but a giant leap for clichés everywhere.

I also discovered the universal phrase of the ancients that would put all your cares to rest Get your incense out and say “Don’t worry. It will be OK”. Everyone from Taxi Driver to General Manager can relax in the knowledge of this phrase.

Torn Jacket. “Don’t worry. It will be OK. I fix”

Three days to leaving Cairo, where’s my jacket “Don’t worry. It will be Ok. Shop Open. I fix”.

Two days to leaving Cairo, where’s my jacket. “Don’t worry. It will be Ok. In shop, shop open. Open. I fix”.

Night before leaving Cairo, where’s my jacket, “Don’t worry. It will be Ok. Shop Open. I fix. I get”.

Seven hours before flight, report to police, police say, “Don’t worry. It will be Ok.We bring jacket or we bring him and jacket”.

Four hours before flight police ring back, “Don’t worry. It will be Ok. Pick it up at hotel”.

See. One ancient phrase. Problem solved. Of course my other cultural learning I wil share with you next time.

The Case Of Gay Cayote

There are sometimes where the Great One reminds you that all those musty traditions that seem to hang around and re-inforce themselves could be a heck of a lot better than the modern replacements

Let me show you how.

Now the FB was fortunate to be hijacked by the Mummy on yet another wife fishing expedition. I was ordered to dress nice, perform the obligatory ritual of self immolation – trying to fix my hair to cover up the joke my biology was playing on me by removing it from strategic locations – and try not to let my flu get in the way of it all. Even the virii it seems were listening to the Mummy and beat a retreat for the five hour ordeal.

Of course we arrived and the show began.

Now what should have happened was that Aunty and uncle welcome you. Aunty hives off with Mummy. You and males of family discuss stuff as any previous posts will show.

I should have known that on one of these visits I would cross into some weird hinterland of cross cultural dynamics that would give Roald Dahl cold sweats. As we sat down and the tea was ordered the Perspective Mother In Law (PMI) took her seat firmly in front of me. The prospective other half (POH) also turned up. No male relatives. Hmmm intriguing.

“So what do you do?” Okay fair enough question. I answer.

“Ohh that’s far away. What do you all by yourself…..” I prepare to answer, slowly put the tea down and before I can start..

“You haven’t got a girlfriend over there to keep you entertained?” I start coughing. Trust me it wasn’t the flu. Make a quick check, mummy hasn’t notice, POH looking at floor.Phew. Maybe no one noticed.

“Well I hope you’re not gay”. I was beginning to realise what it was like to be Wyle E Coyote.

Being me, of course, I toyed with the idea of standing up, loosening the second button of my shirt and proclaiming “No Madame. I am not of the gay. Bear witness to my glorious length of beard and the flamboyantly rampant chest wig. Surely you can see that I have many a young nubile nymphette as my conquests and I have come here to ask you for your permission to ravage your daughter.”

The mummy managed to sail through the entire thing like an Ice breaker with strategic use of her adaptive hearing and mystical attention span. Needless to say the next few hours ground on until we made our excuses and left.

On the drive home, about 10 miles from Huddersfield, she peered out at the Pennines and said “So what did you think then?” At that point I swear I saw a psychotic blue bird go whizzing past the car yelling MEEP MEEP.

Balls

My muslim brothers, you have let yourself down. You have let the corrupt western superpowers and the dajaal drvie you to distraction and have forgone your own identity.

Really, on the green battle fields of Deautchesland where we should have conquered and riegned supreme, you made like an Englishman and flopped horribly by failing to qualify for the round of the 16 in the World Cup.

We all know that Football as the infidel likes to call it was actually invented by Abullah Bin Kora, who was a lesser known student of Al Kindi, who took his study of the sphere to new levels. To prove the perfection of his theories he would balance it on his foot while reciting mystical thoughts.

Now look at the bearers of the herritage. Iran and Tunisia. Couldn't meditate with a sphere is you paid em - erm if your name is Moggi you probably did. Only the noble warriors of Ghana took the idea to the next level only to undone by the blind linesman of genoa.

I think its the lack of beard. Our footballers should grow really long beards and harness the mightyness therein. Then atleast when the take a throw in the otherside will be heading for the bunker.

Time for RoboRef

I'm getting abit tired of the whole refereeing nonsesne at the World Cup. Actually most football matches so here is a suggestion.

We need to build a Ref central at Fifa headquaters. It should be ten stories below ground and only accessable to PE teachers and bank managers - the Refereeing Special Forces.

It needs to bluetoothed an Wi-Fi'ed up to every football match on the panet. ESA should launch special Joga Robotica Satellites postioned around the world with themal imagers, radar phtography and real time cameras. They should be able to zoom in on any ball being kicked around the planet.

The results to be played live into a Referee command centre where every game being played can be displayed accross the spectrum and anlysed. REferees will be plugged into the WHISTLE mainfraim like the highly trained operatives only known to exist in the Pentagon and episodes of 24.

Each ref will be biological altered to be able to display statistics and replays directly into the brain and therefore avoid confusion or mistaken decisions. They will accelerated hearing and quicke reflexes to be able to bring justice to the football fields. Shock referess will be deployed to sunday league games if the standard of referee is below par to restore balance to the black and white.

Of course there will always be a fourth directive should the Refs revolt and start making proper decisions on their own. If I told you I'd have to kill you....

Up a Poll

This survey was published in the Gaurdian. Apparently muslims are spending lots of time hating the west. Specially british muslims, really hating "The west.

We are actually really jealous. No seriously, we are just bursting with more green than flubber factory. There's so much to be jealous about.

Only in the west can you have the freedom, the democarcy, the cultural advancement to create phenomenons of beauty and poise such as Sam Fox. The icon of love and grace that the Bollywood industry took to their hearts. Only in countries where art is greatly appreciated can you have such explosions of colour as Chrisitna Aguilera. The pint size pop princess with the floral hair is an aphrodite for our times.

If only muslim youths could pose with such pretentious elegance as Chirtiano Ronaldo while the rest of his football team leave him unruffled by passing the ball away from him so he can demonstrate his Picaso like brilliance.

We try you know? We do. We tried to build Las Vegas but without the tits and gambling. We called it Dubai. So far its not working.

We even tried to wear leather jackets and expose our chest hair like the great Hasslehof, to no avail.

You can't blame us for hating the west if you make it so hard to attain perfection.