Fosooth, am I not working late again today? And do I not have the pub quiz to attend at nine o'clock, just twenty four minutes away?
Neither cuts much ice with the ganterpies *at work. From Monday on the chorus is "What are you making for Friday <Conrad**>?" "You ARE making something, aren't you?" said in low tones of implied menace.
Well today I took in the Hummingbird Bakery Cake Book and thumbed a few pages before Manisha got hold of it.
"The recipe needs to be quick," I told her.
"Here! This one!" she chirruped, eyes bright.
"There aren't any pumpkins on sale yet."
"Here! This one! It only takes 35 minutes in the oven!"
"Yes but look at the list of ingredients and the hours of preparation that go on before that."
"Monkey bars," interrupted Sophie from behind. Conrad quivered in fear, thinking this was what he was going to be beaten with if -
"Chewy Monkey Bars," continued Sophie, pointing to the recipe and photograph.
So -
 |
| Merely looking at this will make your weight increase. |
Also known in English as "The Horde". A French zombie film that starts off being a less cast-heavy version of "The Raid", and which then abruptly becomes a gun-laden zombie flic*. Plot holes as big as the tower block it's set in, mind you. For one, where do the zombies suddenly come from? No explanation even hinted at. For another, why do thousands of zombies storm an abandoned tower block? There's no light or sound or movement to draw them. Why do the protagonists repeatedly forget that you stop zombies by shooting them in the head - only to remember minutes later? And why do they want to get out of a nice safe tower block and into the presence of a mulling horde of the undead?
I don't expect a chain of adamantine logic to propel the plot of a zombie film, but a little coherence would be welcome.
| "Back! BACK! You can't have my One Direction tickets!" |
Au revoir!
* A proud new word I made up from "gannets", "termagants" and "harpies".
** Can't let my real secret identity out.
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