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Tuesday, June 21, 2005

After writing my blog yesterday, the evening paper arrived, with the front page headline "GRIDLOCK", a photo of hot people in cars (myself and Lisa sadly not included) and the subtitle "City grinds to a halt as thousands flock to coast".

Apparently at the peak of the jams on Sunday, it was taking people four hours to drive from the outskirts of Brighton to the sea front, and "some visitors vowed never to return to the city after spending hours stuck in traffic". Which is good news - it'll be quieter next time.

But amidst the tales of overheating cars, overheating tempers, and people taking 3 hours to get to the pier from the other end of the road, there is a positive side to this story - ice cream seller Sam Isted says he's never had it so good.

Anyhoo, yesterday evening Lisa and I ventured out onto the streets of Brighton again for a trip to the cinema to see Sin City. Intriguingly, it wasn't our decision to go - we'd actually been asked by Lisa's mother to take her to see it, and despite me questioning whether it was really the kind of movie we should be escorting pensioners to, I was overruled with the words "It's ok, she likes violent films". So I agreed. Mainly because if you find out that you have a possible future mother-in-law who likes violence, you tend to do as she asks.

As it turned out, I quite liked Sin City. Admittedly, everyone in it sounded like they could use a packet of Strepsils, and most of the time you didn't know what was going on, but even so, it was quite entertaining. My favourite moment was about 45 minutes into the movie, when Lisa turned to me and said "It's everything I hate about films, all rolled into one". A couple of slaughter-filled minutes later, her mother added that we should've brought her 6 year old grandson. I think she was joking. But that was before the bit where Bruce Willis rips off a man's penis with his bare hands, so I'm not sure.

On the down side, I couldn't help feeling that Elijah Woods' villain looked like Harry Potter, so the scene in which Mickey Rourke chopped off his arms and legs before feeding his torso to a wolf while he was still alive, lacked resonance for me. I did like Clive Owen's shoes though.

So I give it three and a half hot-dogs out of a possible five. But for an alternative view, you can always click here.