tenpastmidnight blog

Making hay while the sun shines

I went to see Bright Young Things last night. It's the first film by Stephen Fry, well known British comic and ex-smooth talking bar steward. The characters were like a who's-who of British acting, but fortunately they all fit in quite well and only hammed when they were meant to (my mate didn't even notice John Cleese's brief appearance.) It's an OK, film, a kind of romantic comedy showing the excesses of the pre-WWII upper classes. The last third of the film was a bit badly paced, and much of the start was given over to too much to do with the party scene of the time, but it made a nice change to see a film without bullet time and guns blazing.

After the film we went to get some food, which was a bit tricky as the England vs Turkey match had just finished and the town centre was flooded with footie fans, many of them completely plastered. The first couple of places had queues outside and we ended up looking at the menu for one of the tex-mex restaurants, which I hadn't been to for a few months. It was only after he said hello that I realised I knew the doorman, who shall remain nameless for moonlighting reasons, so I'll just call him 'R' (very James Bond.)

I was a bit embarrassed at not having recognised him, and I realise while I look at homeless people around Brighton, partly because I have a theory that at some point one of them will be someone I went to school with, but I don't look at the door guards around the pubs. Probably because they're generally rather scary. R is not inherently a scary chap, but I must admit in the dark suit and long black coat, he did look the part.

While I was chatting to him a small group of people tried to get in, but R said they couldn't as one had an England shirt on, and the restaurant has a 'No Football colours' policy. After a little negotiation, the guy asked if it would be all right if he turned it inside out and R agreed that as long as he didn't see it happen, then perhaps it wouldn't look like a football shirt. The guy then attempted to hide behind me to do the changing, which was quite funny (I'm big, but not that big.) R chased him away and we went in to eat.

On the way out I bumped in to R again and asked how the evening was going. Apparently while we'd been eating there had been two fights, I think in the street outside, and an ambulance had needed to visit. Now, normally I'm not a great fan of the heavy bouncer presence around Brighton's central pubs, but I must admit with the amount of baying drunk blokes around, I didn't mind getting a bit of evil eye when I was trying to get in to the pubs.

It was the last race in the 2003 Formula One Grand Prix season today, with Rubens Barrichello winning and Michael Schumacher sealing his sixth world championship victory, a record. The team my mate Mark and I selected could well have won the fantasy F1 league someone at work runs, which will be satisfying in the F1-geek stakes, especially as it means I will have beaten my managers teams (again) :-)
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