Apparently, there was an awards ceremony last night. (The Oscars Review)

I think in most of our heads, The Oscars were all about Leonardo DiCaprio. And if it wasn't for a cracking performance in Dallas Buyers Club by Matthew McConaughey, the Oscar drought would definitely have ended for Leo, leaving us all to enjoy watching him scream triumphantly on stage. Hell, if I was McConaughey I would have given him the trophy. He definitely deserves it. What seems like yet another filmographic injustice darkened the otherwise successful ceremony.

Solace can be taken only in the fact that the apparent Best Actor of 2013 embarrassed himself on a whole new level throughout the night, telling some absolutely disastrous jokes to introduce the Best Animated Film nominees, which were appropriately met with a fog of dead silence. Maybe you should scratch out the "com" in "rom-com" on the occupation section of your CV, eh Matthew. Also looking like a complete tit accepting the award, thanking "God", which is basically social suicide, and claiming that "it is a scientific fact that love for God is reciprocated." Might want to check up on those "scientific" facts Matt.

Other faux pas included: Brad Pitt describing U2 as the biggest rock band in the world (we'll let you off because you've finally cut your hair, but come on Brad, you're better than this), Christian Bale turning up looking like he'd spent several years in a Bhutanese prison, Harrison Ford slurring his words like a stroke victim and Jim Carey contorting his face for cheap laughs, as usual. When he isn't resorting to childish shit like that, he can actually tell some pretty funny jokes. Who knew.

Quick note on Jared Leto: I hate him. I'm sure he did a great job in supporting role, and probably deserved the award, but when a guy accepts an award with a speech rehearsed so well he probably mutters it in his sleep, it makes me sick. Maybe he'll turn it into a 30 Seconds to Mars song, it was repetitive enough. And what the fuck is Channing Tatum presenting awards for? An Oscar presented by Channing Tatum is basically useless. That's like asking Susan Boyle to do you make up. You have to let them do it, so you don't hurt their feelings, but ultimately it's a waste of time, and you'll have to do it yourself later in the mirror to feel comfortable. 

Then Zach Efron came out, fucked up his auto-queue lines and my head exploded.

In good news though, Emma Watson looked stunning. And actual credit to our nation, she's one of the only celebrities I'd ever bother to be nice to. Mainly because she's gorgeous and around my age #callmeEmma.

It was a relief to see Lupita Nyong'o win Best Supporting Actress. She deserved every clap she got for her performance in 12 Years a Slave (also Best Picture Winner), and although the charming sass and wit of Jennifer Lawrence or June Squibb deserves an award category of it's own, I think they'd have happily given Lupita the award should they have won it.

Bill Murray also showed his class, show-casing his usual wry self. This guy is just too funny, sincere and cool for Hollywood, and Samuel L Jackson's voice just made everything better. Although by the end I was begging him to double dare everyone to say "I just want to thank" one more time. 

Overall, it was it's usual bland affair. Aside from Ellen Degeneres taking a world record breaking selfie, and cutting out my favourite man alive Jared Leto in the process, the evening was marred by DiCaprio being thieved of yet another Oscar, that he clearly was desperate to get hold of. Next Year Leo, next year.

Life is just an arduous bureaucracy.

Much to my dismay, I am currently in the middle of university studies. Education of the highest order, designed to churn out genius' of all kind who are capable of achieving the impossible, evolving the way we think, and generally animating societies hopes and dreams. That's what was insinuated anyway. Secondary School teachers preaching at us, insinuating that "higher" education is the pinnacle of life, and that it's the only way to get a decent job. Do you know what they had us doing the other week?

About 30 of us sat in a room, and for an hour and a half we were dictated to, on the subject of 'CV Writing'. Fucking 'CV Writing'. The gist of which was: "Show off". 

So, let's break this down, roughly: we paid £9000 a year for our course. We have 6 modules within that course. For that one module where we are "taught" to write a CV we are paying £1500. 

What a joke that is. 

My time at the fine establishment has been filled with these little pen pushing tasks, all of which are rated at the end of the year by... somebody. And from it all I am given a number, out of 100, that defines my worth within the establishment. Thank God for education.

All I can really say to support this life changing decision is that the people involved in this unfortunate cluster fuck of papers and numbers, are second to non. If it wasn't for the people I'd met at university (students and lecturers alike), I definitely wouldn't be there. Honestly, I am just waiting for the day I get that coveted degree so I can buy a convertible and tour America, whiskey in hand. 

Hipsters at Gigs (WOW247)

Among the numerous irritants that threaten to spoil a delicately good night at a head banging/tune raving/ lighter waving night, this is one that really drives me insane. It's not that it really stops me from directly enjoying the music, it just forces me to fight back homicidal urges while I sip a £5 rum & coke.
It's hipsters. Of course it is. People who come to gigs for one song.

I'm all for wandering aimlessly into the unknown and finding a random band that you were previously unaware of. That's the beautiful thing about music, it's infinite ability to surprise and entertain at the same time.
But if you're there as a fan boy/girl, and only know half the words to an album seller you so dearly admire, at least try and hide it. Don't fight your way to the front row, so you're in touching distance of the guitarists feet just to mildly whisper some words that you "think sounds about right".

The number of times I've seen a tie dye wearing Ringo Starr look a like sitting in the corner of a room, sulking because the band hasn't played "Wonderwall" or "All The Small Things" yet is bizarre.

Paying to go see a band when you only know one song FULL STOP, is stupid enough. That's at least £5 you've paid. £5 for the right to boast to your mates about "how cool you are" because you went to see The Libertines on Saturday night. Wow.

But if you are going to do that (heaven forbid), at least have the decency to pretend you have actually listened to most of the songs they play. It's not a lot we're asking for. It really isn't. Come on hipsters. You think you're cooler than the rest of us, and for some reason you're more entitled to be there than us. But really you're just a culturally dead crank who found their way onto YouTube. No doubt on an iMac daddy bought for you.

I'm sorry, but you belong at a One Direction concert with all the other deaf 14 year old girls. Bob Dylan would be ashamed.

My Shit New Year So Far

Fuck me 2014 is shit. In the last 2 weeks, I’ve managed to: argue with family, start and fail to write a book, start and fail to write a television script, scrapped 3 “resolutions”, drunk too much beer and destroyed any respect I had for the educational system. In all truth, everyone seems to be having an equally self destructive year... bar blind delusional optimists that skip around on New Years Day wearing flowery tops and giggling about how sunny it is or some shit. I’m sure they are just loving life, while they listen to their “Sounds of the Amazon” CD and do yoga.

Which begs the question: why are we all so excited about the year ending anyway? Resolutions mean nothing. The idea of us all actually changing or becoming better people with the new year has long since been abandoned. Don’t kid yourself, stop making resolutions. Although it is always great to see a giant heffalump of a person drag their carcass body up the hill from the gym on the 3rd January. The disappointment in their eyes,  the honesty that encapsulates that look they give you as you speed past in a car. As if to say: “I know mate, I don’t know why I even bothered. I’m too lazy to lose weight.”

Makes me feel all warm inside.

It’s easy and cliche, but I’d have to put it down to the booze. More than cliche even, it’s a little sad. As socially evolved as we are, us humans can’t seem to cope with the fact that we are all one year closer to our inevitable demise. One step closer to heaven, a genius once sang.

And that’s one thing I will give it. New Years Eve unites the world (except China, for reasons best kept to themselves). Yes, it unites the world. I can moan all day long about how pointless resolutions are or how the new year will be exactly the same or how people are so naive in thinking they will change just because they have a new Michael Buble calendar. But there is one event that the earth not China stands united in beer, fireworks, Big Fat Quiz of the Year and blind optimism for. And if there is one thing that the human race can do fucking well, it’s drink our problems away.

Here’s to us, you miserable bastards.

The Non-ambition of Most People

Yeh mate, if you're happy with your infinite, dead end, pointless job at McDonalds, flipping burgers for minimum wage, cry wanking over your meaningless existence because you're counting down the days until your next gold star, this one's for you. If you're okay with the fact that your idea of "the best night of your life" is going to some slummy bar and getting so fucked up you piss in your own shoes, thus spending last months "hard earned" cash, and trying to "pull" the fittest girl about with some chat up line you heard on Take Me Out, you go for it. If you're only plans for the next year are to carry on marching through the dreary, boring stalemate of a life, what the hell is wrong with you?

How can people have no dreams, or ambition? It's fucking mental, it's literally an offence to humanity to do fuck all with your life. Have some fucking creation. Have some fucking role models. Have some fucking lust to do anything that'll make an impact on the Earth and try to leave somewhat of an print after your inevitable demise. 

And leaving an arseprint on you sofa as a result of watching Jeremy Kyle for 30 years straight is not the same thing. 

There are people out there who are half your age, winning awards. Working their arses off to be something more than a social vagrant. Working their arses off to have their names whispered throughout a field.

There are people who work over ten hours a day, everyday, to make sure their family's have food to eat and the opportunity to do whatever they want in life, and you fucking sit there picking hula hoops out of your belly button, mouthing the words to an episode of Two and a-Half Men you've seen a thousand times, not even understanding what life is really about.

Fuck you. 

The X Factor

Literally cannot imagine anything worse than going to one of these "X Factor parties" people seems to be jizzing over now a days. 

"Hey Jord, wanna come over and watch the X Factor final with 12 other people you don't know? We'll get Doritos!"

"Hmmm.... Let me think about that Dave..... No. No I wouldn't like to come round to your house where 80% of the people have to sit on bean bags or the floor and get half drunk while watching a bunch of half wit pricks beg for a chance at being Simon Cowell's fuck buddy for 8 months. You need to get some friends, and a life if that's how you want to spend a Saturday night."

That's all they are, half witted pricks. 

Don't give us all this shit about wanting to be a "rockstar" or whatever. You just want to be famous. 90% of people that go on that show don't give a shit about making music, and that's why they release one début album and disappear off the face of the Earth. They want to be Kim Kardashian, not Freddie Mercury.

It's the same every year, with the same sob story excuses, and the same shitty songs, and the same shitty judges, and the same shitty costumes, and the same shitty shows blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahhhhhhh...............

It's everything that's wrong with music. It's not an art any more, it's a business, and as soon as some conglomerate blowing, money raping, shameless dick head like Simon Cowell get's hold of something like this it's over. Music is dead, and Jimmy Hendrix is turning in his grave. 

The King is dead, long live the prick. 

Sit Coms

Now I love comedy. Situation comedys, if they are done properly, are fantastic, and it is a personal goal of mine to get into writing comedy at some point. 

But when half-arsed "comedians" put these jester like shows together it's an embarrassment to their careers, and our intelligence. 

Catherine Tate is a prime example. Most of her shit is just terrible catchphrases being shouted at high volume by hyperbolic characters, I don't think I have ever actually laughed at anything on The Catherine Tate Show. How can anyone find that funny?

"Ugh... am ah boverd?" No Catherine, I don't suppose you are bothered. Because we haven't been bothered ever since you showed your fucked up ugly mug on our TV screens. Little Britain was better, but still absolutely cringe worthy. How hard is it to get a fat guy in a dirty shirt to get out of a wheel chair and jump in a pool? About as hard as stamping on a kittens head, and just as funny. 

They don't want comedic respect, or to force people to understand the jokes. There's no work on the audiences part. Writers are expected to spoon feed audiences with these shows and it's fucking sickening. You might as well let kids watch it. It's the CBBC version of comedy, and they're happy with that. 

No shame, no shame in this lowest common denominator comedy. Just taking three days to write a shitty script and put on a shitty outfit just to make some Jeremy Kyle veteran, doll queue hero, 5 kid parenting 19 year old piss themselves for half an hour. Your parents must be so proud. 

Good comedy is full of intelligence, irony and forethought. Not sloppy observations and annoying characters screaming desperately at the camera gasping for any laugh they can get. 

And don't even get me started on Mrs. Browns Boys.