Showing posts with label Charlie Brooker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlie Brooker. Show all posts

Monday, 3 August 2009

Charlie Brooker - The Movie

Over in The Guardian, the Ford Cortina of British newspapers (a clunker that is a waste of money loved only by its hobbyist owners and is a total money pit) carries an article by Charile Brooker.

Chariles gives us three ideas for three new Hollywood movies.

But Charlie is in fact the man we want to see in the movies.

Here are three ideas for Charile Brooker films ;

1) Charlie Brooker as Harry Corbett in a remake of Carry On Frankenstein.

Charlie has to battle with a genetically engineered monster whose DNA is a mixture of Ann Widecome and the Honey Monster.

Kenneth Williams is played by Graham Norton and Jim Dale by that American wooly woofter in Torchwood who is obviously shagging some top BBC producer as he gets parts in new BBC TV shows every other week.

His next role is as the dog in One Man and His Dog.

Charlie is an undercover reporter for the Daily Guardian who discovers that various MP's have been kidnapped and their DNA taken in order for the Tory Party to bio-engineer the perfect politician.

Daavid Cameron, played by Ant of Ant and Dec fame, is revealed to be a descendant of Vlad the Impaler who seeks to breed a race of Ubermenschen Conservatives who dont rip off the tax payer with their expenses, who arent married to their cousins and who dont think he is foppish mug.

Charlie is kidnapped and his DNA taken and the last thing we see is a pram being pushed down the street by Anne Widecome with a child inside - who bears the face of Charlie.



2) Charlie Brooker in Dirty Dancing The Remake - Charlie plays the role of Patrick Swayze but to make it more poignant Charlie has a club foot.

Charlies club foot was a result of an accident in his youth where a frenzied hedgehog attacked him whilst he was out camping with the scouts. This was because he was wearing his socks that been kept in the same bag as his bacon butties.

Charlie wats to be a dancer but when he dances on his left foot he is as graceful as a swan, whilst when he tries to dance on his right foot he dances like John Precott after twenty pints and a kebab.

Charlie is working at Rhyll Butlins resort as a Morris dance teacher where he meets Jordan. She has just discovered that her husband Peter Andre is really a woman and she has fled to Rhyll to get over her heartbreak.

Charlie is there, the dancing instructor with a club foot who can see the stars but trips up each time he strives to grab them until Jordan enters the room.

Jordan also wants to dance but her plastic knockers are so lopsided that only one man, one with a club foot, can dance with her and her lop sided left breast.

Charlie and Jordan discover that his right club foot and her lopsided left breast go together like magic.

During the Grand Allegro Charlie does an assemblé en tournant and then Jordon lifts him into the air in triumph.

Its a moving story of how the human spirit can triumph over hedgehog inflicted injury and floppy plastic knockers.


3) Charlie Brooker is Sooty in ' Sooty and Sweep - the drug years'.

Charlie plays sooty - a once famous hand puppet now down on his luck.

Once a high living hand puppet who dated a plethora of TV stars such as Floella Benjamin and the Blue Peter dog, he is dropped by the BBC and becomes unemployed.

Sweep, also sacked, starts dealing crack in Brixton and he and sooty enter a nightmarish world of TV puppets and drug addiction where the Clangers high on smack are involved in a turf battle with the coke dealing Smurfs whilst the top gangster, a gangster known as Bagpuss, stalks the sreets slaying all opposition.

Charlie become a crack addict and one night he sees Bagpuss shoot dead four smurfs in an execution known as ' The Night The Streets Ran Blue With Blood'.

Bagpuss and his firm, led by a dark horse called Muffin The Mule a hitman for the Bagpuss gang, are hunting Charlie down.

Charlie has to fight his addiction to crack at the same time as he is struggling to survive the evil army of unemployed hand puppets on his trail.

The film culminates in a Tarantino style shoot out in cheap hotel in Brighton.

Charlie survives but his hand puppet protagonists dont.

In slow motion we see Charlie mowing down the army of evil hand puppets with an Uzi machine gun that he buys from a 14 year old school kid from Peckham.

These are the films we want to see, not more crap moves that are not about Charlie Brooker.




























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Sunday, 12 July 2009

Charlie Brooker - You have been watching review









Image - Charlie Brooker and Parker from Thunderbirds. Related or just strange quirk of fate that they resemble one another so much ?



Review of Charlie Brookers 'You have been watching '.

Crap.

































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Monday, 18 May 2009

Charlie Brooker - The real Twitter Account





Image = Still bunged up. I have a compacted bowel like the M25 on a saturday afternoon. My other hero is Bela Lugosi, hence the ' oooh look I am a scary vampire' stare.



Hi window lickers,

Its charlie here, the real Rockabilly Rebel.

I have now set up my own proper Twitter account at ;

http://twitter.com/Rockabilcharlie

(or whatever the fuck it is, stupid techno shite fucking dashboards)

If you log on you can get regular updates about what I am doing during the day.























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Charlies Twitter Army Strikes Back

And so it began.

Charlie Brooker sent forth the twitter message to his loyal army, The Window Lickers, and like some rather deranged army of sexually ambiguous ants they swarmethed over the blog of Lee Barnes.

Twitter.

The word says it all really doesnt it.

Twitter - twit, twat etc etc

But come on lets be honest what does it say about the person that likes using the twitter on his phone ( the twitoris ? ) and who does the twitting ( The twittee ? ) and the recipient of the Twitter message ( The Twit ? ).

IT SAYS YOUR A FUCKING KNOBHEAD THATS WHAT.

I hate anyone with a fucking facebook account, who twitters, who has a myspace account, who spends time posting up pictures of their sad lives and their ugly mugs on the internet - if you have one of those techno shite accounts then you are sad fucking, no life, metrosexual twat.

Anyone who has the time to spend posting up pictures of them being sick, drinking, gurning into a camera, or what-the fuck-ever on any techno shite site needs to get out and have a real life - you sad internet nerds.

Charlies Law states that there is a direct relationship between the amount of techno shite you use and how much of a saddo you are.

The more you twit, the more you are a twat.

How egotistical do you have to be to want to set up your own twitter account anyway.

Like anyone is interested in what YOU are doing.

As for charlie - what makes you think he has a life worth following on your mobile phone anyway.

People like you used to be called stalkers at one time.

Now you crave the little messages that pop up your phone from your hero charlie like slaves once enjoyed getting a good whipping of off their masser.

Like how interesting can it be working at The Guardian anyway for fucks sake.

HERES A DAY IN CHARLIES LIFE ;

Hi, its me. I am at work in the guardian office. Writing an interesting article about my youth in a village. I had a dog. He got run over by a tractor. I cried. please love me.


Hi, had a mung bean salad in the Guardian canteen. very tasty. Orange juice had little bits in it. I dont like that.


Hi, I am in an office meeting. really important. Is black coffee racist ? We dont know but from now on I am going to call it ' coffee with a tone that is not racist in any way'. Right on. Fuck me we do some important shit here in The Guardian.


Hi, Met Gordon Brown last night. What a cunt. Nuff said.


Hi, does anyone have a cure for gential warts ? My knob is as red as a cardinals robe.


Hi, I have updated my facebook account with some really important shit. Its a picture of me trying on my new Armani trousers ethically produced in a lesbian collective in Guam. Paid ten grand for them. fucking bargain.


Hi, I had a wank last night. Watched Nell with Jodie Foster. Dat film is da dope !


Hi, I have just eaten a ham sandwich. Dont tell the BOSS ! ho ho


Hi, I am the Guradian office party. We are playing 'Pass the ethical parcel in a non-confrontational way'. I won ! Hoorah. It was an organic carrot. Very tasty yum, yum.

>

FUCK OFF AND DIE CHARLIE BROOKER.

ANYONE THAT TWITTERS IS A CUNT.

ANYONE THAT RECIEVES A TWITTER IS A CUNT.
























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Charlie Brooker - Rockabilly Dickhead

Here are some poems from a collection I am writing, let me know if you like them ;



I cannot Sleep Tonight.


I cannot sleep tonight,
My mind is restless, meandering,
The lost paths of the past,
As a fox in the forest, it roams,
Seeking a den of dreams,
In midnights brush of black,
Wandering memories way,
Sniffing amidst the humus,
Of moments shed in time,
That reek of secrets, long secreted,
Into autumn folds of forgetting.


Suddenly a hare breaks cover,
From a tangled thicket of thought,
White as fresh winter snow,
Bewitching me with her beauty,
Symbolically, she sprints,
Her shadow finding its form,
And fox follows in swift pursuit,
His hot, hungry breath upon her neck,
Seeks reunion with her flesh,
And so the chase begins,
For as it must, fox must be fed.


She leaps and jinks a leading line,
Leading dull fox a merry dance,
Until balled up paws, clagged with clay,
Betray her with a sudden stumble,
And with a snap of jaw it is over,
The chase comes to its end,
And hare surrenders her soul,
With a bright blush of blood,
That cools and clots upon the page,
As fox gnaws upon the bones,
Devouring her sleek pelt, a perfect poem.





Gaza.



I watched as F16 jet fighters flew over Gaza,
Bombing city streets at friday prayer,
Thousands were on their knees, each defiant,
Not a single one raised a head, nor an eye,
To watch them as they streaked across the sky,
Whilst from nearby streets rockets were firing,
As she resistance threw stones at tanks,
For that is faith in all its fatal beauty.


But to not unleash those bombs,
Upon the enemy on their knees below,
To resist the temptation to kill,
To pour down fire upon the heads,
Until not one remains to breath,
That is the duty owed to ones nation,
In all its well disciplined glory.

For if the situation were reversed,
Would those oppressed so defer,
From pulling at the killing trigger,
And wiping from the face of the earth,
The eternal enemy of the Zionist entity ?
No, and no again, a thousand years or more,
As the hand of history so records,
Writ with a bloody pen upon those sands,
For all to see and for all to ignore.












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