Back in Blighty, we went off to Somerset House for the UK premiere of Pedro Almodovar's new film - The skin I live in. Four of us went, only one of us thought it was brilliant - 'twas I. For me, the evening started brilliantly when the man himself along with co-star Elena Anaya came and introduced the film, and then there was a fabulous fanfare of lights to get the film started. I'd give you a plot outline, but it twisted and turned in almost unimaginable ways and kept us on the edge of our seats (actually, there's no seats, we sat on the courtyard cobble stones) for two hours. The Cat's Mother's face was a picture as we progressed, from excitement through to uncertainty, to bemusement, to horror. We spent the entire journey 'discussing' the pros and cons and ins and outs. Even today we can't agree on very much about the film...the plot, the motivations, etc....but I'm still excited by it, and would recommend it highly even if it is creepy and pervy. At least we all came away knowing a new word...vaginoplasty. I suggest you Google it.
In the meantime, it seems Colonel Gadaffi has decided to take the fight to William Hague. As I cycled along the canal, I cam across this. Military weaponry hidden away in central London ready to strike with 40 minutes notice. I haven't sexed up this report. At all.
