Virgin HK-LON-HK
Back from London.
I was very grumpy on the plane because, when I got on, absolutely knackered and still jetlagged in one direction, first they put me in the wrong seat, then they left me hanging around in the aisle for a bit, then they moved me to yet another seat, so some stupid young Aussie mother could sit with her cretinous children, without so much as bothering to ask if that would be alright by me (which of course it would have been), then they didn't have the right size sleepsuit, then by the time they had finished faffing about, it was too late for me to change into said tiny sleepsuit before take-off, then when I went to get changed, some stupid Chinese tart beat me to the front of the queue for the loo, so I went off, then she disappeared so I went back to wait outside the loo, then she promptly reappeared again from around the corner. The staff, cleverly picking up on the massive grump-vibes emanating from me, were bowing and scraping and apologising for the next 11 hours. What a prima donna I have become!
On the way out I watched:
About 10 minutes of Borat, which was rubbish. He's not some radical free agent jester-type turning the mirror on society, he's just an irritating tosspot.
About 10 minutes of History Boys, which does not translate well from the stage. In fact, it was dull.
The whole of something called Employee of the Month, with Jessica Simpson. Jiggle jiggle.
The whole of A Good Year. People are right, Russell Crowe can't do comedy.
The whole of Marie Antoinette which looked like a fabulous rococo box of chocolates, but ultimately confirmed the utter vacuousness of Sofia Coppola's vision.
Realised that I don't like watching challenging movies on the plane.
On the way back I watched:
Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny. They left all the swearing in. Troika would like it.
An Italian film called something like Romanza Criminale, which apparently means Crime Novel. Quite enjoyable. Anyway it was jam-packed full of the most lovely Italian men. Any lovely Italian women, asks LSS. Can't say as how I noticed.
I was very grumpy on the plane because, when I got on, absolutely knackered and still jetlagged in one direction, first they put me in the wrong seat, then they left me hanging around in the aisle for a bit, then they moved me to yet another seat, so some stupid young Aussie mother could sit with her cretinous children, without so much as bothering to ask if that would be alright by me (which of course it would have been), then they didn't have the right size sleepsuit, then by the time they had finished faffing about, it was too late for me to change into said tiny sleepsuit before take-off, then when I went to get changed, some stupid Chinese tart beat me to the front of the queue for the loo, so I went off, then she disappeared so I went back to wait outside the loo, then she promptly reappeared again from around the corner. The staff, cleverly picking up on the massive grump-vibes emanating from me, were bowing and scraping and apologising for the next 11 hours. What a prima donna I have become!
On the way out I watched:
About 10 minutes of Borat, which was rubbish. He's not some radical free agent jester-type turning the mirror on society, he's just an irritating tosspot.
About 10 minutes of History Boys, which does not translate well from the stage. In fact, it was dull.
The whole of something called Employee of the Month, with Jessica Simpson. Jiggle jiggle.
The whole of A Good Year. People are right, Russell Crowe can't do comedy.
The whole of Marie Antoinette which looked like a fabulous rococo box of chocolates, but ultimately confirmed the utter vacuousness of Sofia Coppola's vision.
Realised that I don't like watching challenging movies on the plane.
On the way back I watched:
Tenacious D and the Pick of Destiny. They left all the swearing in. Troika would like it.
An Italian film called something like Romanza Criminale, which apparently means Crime Novel. Quite enjoyable. Anyway it was jam-packed full of the most lovely Italian men. Any lovely Italian women, asks LSS. Can't say as how I noticed.
posted by FBT at 12:42 pm
4 Comments:
I can't do films on planes at all. it's so hard to concentrate and you get disturbed by the crew etc etc.
and yes you are sounding a bit high maintenance - flight wise!
I watched A Good Year this weekend, too. Not on a plane, though. (I wish!) I was disappointed. Having spent a week in Provence this fall (same area where they filmed it, too!) I have to say I don't think they really captured the magic of Provence.
Forget lovely Italian men. I've discovered that lovely Slovene men hang out in hardware stores. SMM is much surprised at my new interest in woodwork.
RT - you're not supposed to agree with me, damnit!
SMW - first it was DG going on about hunky Czechs and now it's you and the Slovenes. Clearly former Eastern bloc is the way to go - where men are real men etc
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