MJ AND SPENCER’S GUIDE TO YOUR SUMMER MOVIES

It’s nearly the end of June, which means that (at least where I am) the days are long and very hot . . . and for some reason, this brings out the MOVIE BUG in many of us.

I was sitting here with Spencer Martin of Suite Scarlett fame (he says hi). The Hopewell doesn’t have very reliable air conditioning, so the Martins often turn up at my door. He and I were talking about this very subject, and we decided to make a guide to some films we think you should watch—ones outside the scope of the current summer blockbusters. This is not a comprehensive guide to ALL good movies. There are many, many more movies we would both recommend. These were just the best movies we could think of at the moment, and they are all gems.

First of all, a brief memo to Steve Martin. For reasons I cannot understand, this once-brilliant (really, still-brilliant) man is on a quest to ruin all of my favorite movies by doing horrible, horrible remakes. Spencer also likes Steve Martin in general, but feels that his attempts to remake the following two films are a blight on the honorable House of Martin, of which he is a member.

THE OUT-OF-TOWNERS (1970)

This may just be the funniest movie ever made. Really. No . . . really. I saw this movie for the first time in high school—I can’t even remember the circumstances—and immediately embraced its total genius. It practically made my brain melt.

The story is easy to sum up: a man and woman (Jack Lemmon and Sandy Dennis) come New York City for a job interview and possible promotion. Things start going wrong pretty much from the start, with the husband refusing to admit defeat, and the wife trying to gracefully accept the situation. This movie amazes because it builds so perfectly. Just when you think these people cannot be tortured any more—some new level of hell rises out of the background, and they charge right for it. Jack Lemmon as “the guy who will not give up” is simply the most magnificent thing this side of Magnificentland. This movie is the best example I can think of of something Spencer points out in Suite Scarlett 2: “The suffering of others is fun.”

WHATEVER YOU DO . . . do not get the 1999 version with Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn. It bears NO relation to this one and it will make you sad and angry, at least if you are me. Everything about this movie is wrong, and everyone involved in its making should be fed to alligators.



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: everyone, I think, but especially people who plan on visiting New York, anyone who has had a bad day, people who refuse to give in, people who like to make lists, people who are convinced the world is after them, people who are convinced things will always work out, Steve Martin.

THE RETURN OF THE PINK PANTHER (1975)

I love the Pink Panther movies, the REAL ones, of which there are five: The Pink Panther (1963), A Shot in the Dark (1964), this film, The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976), and Revenge of the Pink Panther (1978). All real Pink Panther films feature Peter Sellers, which means that the remake with Steve Martin is DEFINTIELY not on the list. Don’t watch it.

Whenever summer rolls around, I always get the itch to see this movie, which is probably my favorite of the bunch. It’s especially relevant now that I have an assistant. You see, Inspector Clouseau has an assistant named Cato, who is basically a ninja as well as a valet. In order to keep Clouseau on his toes, Cato lies in wait for his master whenever he comes home and attacks him from the least expected place possible. Roxy now does this to me. When I sat down to type out this blog, she detached from my ceiling and landed on my head. This didn’t actually help me, but I am sure you see what I mean.

Maybe not.

The following clip is an excellent example of this, and the very end bit is one of my favorite scenes of all time. It teaches us at least one vital lesson: never answer the door.

Pink Panther - Clouseau vs Cato | Funny Jokes at JibJab

WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: ninjas, detectives, Roxy Studious, FedEx delivery personnel, Steve Martin.

DEEP BLUE SEA (1999)

Quite simply, the greatest movie in the history of ever. There was really no point of anyone, anywhere making a movie after this. Should have won every award possible—Oscars, Golden Globes, BAFTAs, Nobel Prizes, Most Likely to BE TOTALLY AWESOME. Possibly the most eloquent film on the subject of why no one should go in the ocean.

Summary: Ultra-smart sharks turn into serial killers and pick off a group of scientists one by one. Did you just hear me? SERIAL KILLER SHARKS. Why are you still reading this? Why aren’t you running to your local film emporium to rip every possible copy of this movie off the shelf? You need further convincing?

Fine. Okay. Here you go. The best death scene you will ever watch. You’re welcome. I have nothing more to say on this matter. Words cannot do it justice.



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: swimmers, Samuel L. Jackson fans, serial killers, sharks.

THE VILLAGE (2004)

This movie was completely stupid, but if you are having a very, very slow night, I suggest renting it and playing this game . . .

I became convinced while watching this that the director of photography was actually a grad student in film who was secretly trying to finish his thesis project, which was a documentary on chairs. He was using the cameras, film, and set of this movie to shoot the footage he needed. This means you can play “spot the chair!” The rules are simple: whenever you see a chair, yell, “CHAIR!” And then start counting. See just how long the chair remains in frame. Bonus points if the chair is the ONLY thing in frame, which happens more often than you think it would.

The trailer gives you only a tantalizing glimpse of the chairs to come. So. Many. Chairs. It’s chairporn.



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: very, very bored people, people who like chairs.

THE WICKER MAN (2006)

To be honest with you, I’ve never seen this movie, and I’m not going to. The reason is—I have all I will ever need to see right here. My friend Gig Saunders sent this clip to me one day, and my life has never been the same. I have fallen out of a chair laughing two times in my life—this was one of them. Spencer agrees: everything about this clip is made of solid gold.



You may also enjoy this fan-made trailer version:



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: beekeepers, people with bear suits, bicycle enthusiasts.

CLOVERFIELD (2008)

Not since the halcyon days of Snakes on a Plane has a movie been as hotly anticipated as Cloverfield. It really should have been a summer movie.

I’d heard a lot about the hand-held shaky camera in this movie making people sick. Turns out there’s a great solution for this: watch it on a plane going through turbulence! That’s what I did. It equals everything out, and also makes you feel like the Cloverfield monster is really coming to getcha.

Cloverfield is tons of fun on many levels. For me, I just like the fact that a big monster has come to eat the city for no apparent reason. When it gets upset, it barfs giant man-eating spiders—which is a pretty compelling argument for giving it what it wants. Which is . . . nothing that anyone can figure. Mostly it just likes to rage around and knock things over. It’s like some mad, oversized tourist. Like in the New York of The Out-Of-Towners, it’s hard to win in the NYC of Cloverfield, but idiots will try.

(Only people who live in New York City understand the true moral message of the movie, which is: if you live in an apartment that big, you deserve to die in the jaws of a massive, pissed-off, spider-barfing monster. Spencer seconds this notion and adds, “Thinking of you, Chip!”)



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: people on airplanes, Chip Sutcliffe, people who think “Friends” reflected real life in New York, Youtube addicts, optimists.

IT’S ALWAYS FAIR WEATHER (1955)

At the very least, watch this sequence if you are having a bad day. It’s a favorite of both Spencer’s and mine. Gene Kelly was a @^#&*ing genius, and anyone who says different has to answer to both of us. The man can TAP DANCE on ROLLER SKATES.



Since I am posting that, Spencer insists that I also post this, which ALSO features Gene Kelly on roller skates. Come on. How can you not love a movie whose tagline is: “Open your eyes and hear the magic”? Are you totally heartless? And it features Olivia Newton-John as “the girl you loved in Grease” and Michael Beck as “the dude you will never hear from again.”



WHO SHOULD WATCH THIS: people with taste, dancers, disco divas, Steve Martin, Barack Obama.

I hope you have found this helpful!

You left MANY, MANY good questions/thoughts in the comments last time, so I will have to do an Q&A post very soon and answer them.

I was particularly intrigued by this one:

moo, cow dont bother me. said...
Hello Maureen, that same thing happened to me except it was a greek 17-year-old named Karkos, and he sleeps under my bed. i feed him cappacinos. He can speak no English but he makes really good fish stew. We are getting married in December.

I have nothing to add but my congratulations, and let me know if you would like me to perform the ceremony. I was internet ordained last week, and am starting on my quest to marry ALL PEOPLE in the outfit of their choice (Wonder Woman, John Green, etc.).

Today’s THREE books are going to . . .

Suvi in Finland
Pridemarcher
katie!!

I’m just giving one book away today, but that is because I need to get more envelopes. Or send Roxy for them. And I am afraid to ask Roxy for anything. But still! Random commenter! Book! The Summer of Scarlett rolls on!

Spencer himself will sign this copy. There you go.

ROXY STUDIOUS

Regular readers of this blog may notice that I’ve gone slightly off the rails again! Yes, I am in a huge DEADLINE HOLE, finishing up work on the first draft of Suite Scarlett 2.

Before I tell you this week’s exciting story, let me get a whole bunch of business out of the way—because just because I am deep in the hole doesn’t mean that the world stops. There’s been loads going on that I need to tell you about.

DEPARTMENT OF SCARLETT’S ELEVEN

Scarlett’s Eleven—my crack team of Alan Rickman-freers and Scarlett supporters—has made this video, and it has EVERYTHING! Grandmas! Cleavage! Rule breaking! A dude without a shirt on! A cat that can read! Charlie the ferret!



DEPARTMENT OF PRIDE

I’ve wanted an audiobook FOREVER. Now I am getting TWO of them! In fact, one’s already out! The Bermudez Triangle is now available for your EARS. In fact, it’s a summer audio pick at Logo online, the LGBT network! (The other audiobook is Suite Scarlett, which is currently in production. I’ll let you know when that’s available.) Mostly, when I saw this I was delighted to find that I am featured on the same page as John Barrowman, better known as “that really hot guy from Torchwood and Doctor Who who makes out with everyone and everything.”

What a happy coincidence that it came out at the exact same time as the wonderful DAY OF MARRIAGE in California! I made this offer on Facebook, but I want to make it here as well. I want to get certified to marry people, and then offer my services to all takers. I am happy to marry people dressed as Wonder Woman, any member of Abba, classic Princess Leia (white outfit, not the bikini), John Green, or any other of your favorite characters! (Does anyone know how you actually go about getting certified to marry people? I MUST KNOW.)

In other awesome news on this front, my friend Winchester Grey invited me to be in the Gay Pride Parade in New York City with his group! This has been my DREAM for YEARS. So next Sunday I will be one of the thousands of people walking under the rainbows down Fifth Avenue. How happy am I? So happy. Of course, I may be writing AS I AM WALKING, but that is another matter . . .

DEPARTMENT OF CHARLIEISSOCOOL

Charlie sent me a note the other day, when my brains were dribbling out my ears. “I knew I had to send this video to someone as soon as I found it,” it said. “You have been chosen, please pass on the message.”

When Charlie sends you a video and asks you to pass on the message, it has to be done. And I think it also shows how well Charlie actually understands me, because I was compelled to watch this ten times in a row without blinking. This is exactly what my brain feels like on a deadline.



DEPARTMENT OF JELLYFISH

I told you so.

DEPARTMENT OF CLICK THIS TWO HUNDRED TIMES

Just keep clicking here. You’re welcome.

DEPARTMENT OF GIVING OUT BOOKS

Today’s winner: alysa

I feel so bad about how long I took to give out this book that I am going to give out THREE BOOKS this week. Yes, THREE random commenters will get books! Comment! And have you entered the sweepstakes yet? Do that too!

And now . . . let me tell you today’s story.

So I basically had a brain melt this week. It’s been coming on for a while now. I have been writing and writing away, but it turns out that your brain needs the occasional pause or it decides to stop working correctly. (Or at least mine does.) If you don’t take the pause, it takes it for you. So I was sitting there at my desk, and the world inside my head was a soft, sunny, rabbity place, not hugely productive.

In addition, it has always been the policy in the mj Office that I do everything. I read all the e-mails and answer them. I do the Facebook friending, the myspace clicking, the sending out of books and things . . . but the other day I was feeling it. I had piles of books everywhere, Scarlett notes in all directions, fifteen cups of tea, a thousand unanswered e-mails, and I may have been on fire. Scarlett two wasn’t done. My brain was dead.

“Someone help me,” I said out loud in a low voice.

And then, far in the distance, I heard a low rumble. I looked out my window to see what it was. There, on the street, was a girl dressed entirely in pink motorcycle leathers and a helmet and sitting astride a silver Vespa. She stood on the seat and made a leap for my fire escape, pulling herself up rung over rung until she was at my window.

At first I thought it was J.K. Rowling, because that only makes sense. She’s the only one who tries to get in through my fire escape. I mean, Free Monkey goes out and swings on it on occasion, but basically, it’s the J.K. entrance. So when this strange figure arrived, I immediately said, “I have no jam here. Get out.”

The figure handed me a hard that simply read, “Roxy Studious.” It was not J.K.

“Hello,” I said.

Roxy just stared at me. I could see nothing through the shiny black of her helmet.

“Are you . . . um . . . what are you doing here?”

Again, she said nothing. She just walked over and started sorting my piles of books. Then she cleared away the 15 cups of tea, brought me a fresh one, shoved me aside, and started updating my myspace page.

“Oh,” I said. “Okay. I’ll, uh . . . I’ll take these pages of Suite Scarlett 2 over here and I’ll just . . . I’ll edit them. Over here.”

Nothing. Just the sound of keys being hit in a brisk manner.

When I looked up next, she was straightening my cluttered desktop. And after that she was doing some shredding. Then, as quickly as she came, she went right back out the window and got back on her Vespa.

I think she may be my assistant now. I really don’t know.

I don’t know exactly what she’ll be doing or how long she will be staying, but if Roxy answers you, she will identify herself. If the note says “mj,” then it’s me. I guess, anyway.

Okay. Get commenting. I think I need questions to answer! I think my brain is coming back on!

THE RABBITS

This week has been entirely consumed with the writing of Suite Scarlett 2. As I have mentioned many times before, the final stages of working on a book are not always the most elegant or smooth. There comes a point where you (“you” meaning “I” in this case) go on a little vacation from realityland. When you’ve been by yourself in a room in front of a computer screen making up stuff since what feels like the beginning of time . . . things start to wobble around the edges.

England isn’t helping with this.

I mean, when I walked to the High Street today to get a hot beverage, I was immediately confronted by a woman wearing a white ballgown and a tiara who was playing “New York, New York” on the clarinet. I think it was for charity, but still, that kind of thing is not good for the mind when it is already a little soft and past the sell-by date.

Later, I went to the gym for a little physical activity, because regular physical activity is of critical importance during this period. There is a very nice gym here, right on the other side of a large park. I was walking back home after getting my exercise when I saw MY RABBITS.

I don’t think I’ve told you about the rabbits.

There is a wooded area around the park where apparently ALL RABBITS IN THE WORLD COME FROM. The entire lawn is carpeted in them. Like, if you wanted to walk all the way from the gym to the woods (which is kind of far), you could do it just by stepping from rabbit to rabbit, like you were playing Frogger. Not that I recommend walking on rabbits. The only thing you should walk on is a carefully marked path or SUNSHINE.

Anyway, there are about—I don’t know—one million-billion-trillion (approx.) rabbits between the gym and the woods, and at the time, there was just one me. The only human. But as I came down the path, all the rabbits stopped moving. They stopped hopping and twitching and nibbling and waited to see what I was about to do next.

Maybe it’s because I live in New York City and the only place I see a rabbit is on a menu—but seeing all the rabbits made me go a little mad with power, like I was the Rabbit God. If I so much as leaned forward, the rabbits would collectively twitch. If I took a step back, their ears would move. Everything these rabbits did depended on me. So when I finally had to continue down the path, I caused a RABBIT STAMPEDE that I think could be felt for miles.

But when I got to the end of the path . . . I hid. I kept watch as all the rabbits came back out. And then I did it again. I kept doing this until some other people came down the path and I couldn’t get away with it anymore.

So I came back to my desk and sat down with a happy smile on my face, because, you know . . . rabbits . . . and I stared at the computer. Oscar came by and said, “How is the book coming?” And I said, “I CONTROL ALL THE RABBITS.” And he said, “I will leave you alone for a little while.”



Your sequel is coming! I have my rabbits to help me.

Just when I was thinking that no one was as unhinged as me, I started reading some of your e-mail, in which many of you have communicated the feeling that you are ALSO going a little funny in the revolving restaurant upstairs. Don’t be disturbed by this, friends. It happens to all of us.

And in the interest of public service, I wanted to put forth a few cases of people who may have taken the journey a little longer and farther than you or I have.

THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED THE BERLIN WALL

In 1979, a Swedish woman married the Berlin Wall in a small ceremony attended by a few friends and family members. She took her husband’s name.

Now, I know what you are probably thinking, because I thought it too . . .that invite is hotter than the one to Bella and Edward’s wedding. Vampire wedding, okay, but . . . WOMAN AND BERLIN WALL. That’s the one you need to go to. If I got that invitation, I would be happy for the rest of my rabbit-infested life.

And people did go, apparently.

Of course, things hit an understandable snag in 1989 when the Wall was torn down, opening the border between East and West Berlin. The woman remains married to the wall, but has transferred her affections to a nearby garden fence. This is the fence:



Here, you can listen to some very relaxing music and find out why the Berlin Wall is the “best and sexiest wall that every existed." There is also this page of sexy fences.


DAD PROM

While not quite the same as marrying the Berlin Wall, I have few issues with The Dad Prom, which is not actually called The Dad Prom, but the “Father-Daughter Purity Ball,” which is actually a little worse.

I like my dad a lot, but I really can’t imagine anything I would have wanted to go to less than a formal dance in which he pledged to protect my purity under a sword and a seven foot cross. I would much rather be listening to Belgian techno, arranging my safety manual collection, sewing silver sequins to my outfit for the opening of the Abba museum . . . or really, anything else. Anything.

Don’t get me wrong . . . faith plays an important role in many lives. I know this. I just have to wonder about any event in which all the girls are herded together to get the message that sex is dirty and that we require protection by a male figure with a big, pointy object. And then be made to do the Electric Slide.

When my dad wanted to take me out for some bonding, we would go to used car dealerships and mess with the salesmens' heads. We would go around looking at all the cars, and we would stop and ask to see the trunk on one. I would climb in and say, “Yeah, I think we can get three or four packages in here if we bend them up right. And we can ditch this one easy in the river. It’s one of those old, heavy cars. It won’t float up like the last one. Now close it and walk away a few feet and see if you can hear me scream.”

Oh, the good times we used to have! We made our own fun!

All I’m saying is . . . the spectrum of experience is broader than we think, and crazy is a very relative term.

But if you are needing an instant dose of sanity RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, I remain at your service. Watch this—possibly the best song by the greatest band in the world. If you are not feeling better by the end of this, I’ll send the rabbits.



YOU'RE WELCOME!


TODAY’S RANDOM WINNER:

. . . is AMY from ENGLAND.

Another book to another commenter today!

Also, have you entered the SUITE SCARLETT SWEEPSTAKES yet? The banner is right there on the side! CLICK IT!

OBSERVING THE ENGLISH

So, I had kind of a weird week last week.

Basically, right after I posted last, took a shower and when I stepped out, I happened to see my back in the mirror and it was ENTIRELY COVERED IN WHAT LOOKED LIKE CHICKEN POX. Or what I imagine chicken pox to look like, because I’ve never had them. What it ACTUALLY looks like is like a small child of about three years of age has come along and painted like pink dots and clouds on my back. So for about a day, I was convinced that my lifetime of smugly claiming my natural immunity had come to an end and I was in for a world of pox and that all my blogs for weeks and weeks were going to be about my chicken pox. Seriously. I was already composing them in my head.

Except, um, nothing really happened.

The dots and clouds are still there. They haven’t moved AT ALL. I have clearly reacted to something. This managed to distract me for a short time from my job of observing the English, but I have begun my quest, and have a few answers for you.

katie said...
question: have you had any tea related trauma while in the UK?

See the next question.

charlie said...
"from an American perspective?"

You are unlike any American I know, Maureen. It should be "from the perspective of a hilarious and slightly insane writer who happens to be in England".

Never the less, what do you think of tea? Is it dangerous? Is it dangerous to drink tea and watch TV? Is it dangerous to drink tea and watch TV when people that you know sometimes appear on TV?

(I want you to tell the story)

Charlie likes this story because it is in large part about him, and that is fair enough. You guys know my friend Charlie, right? Of course you do. Charlie is the star of the internet, as well as being a general stand-up guy.

So there I am, sitting down in front of the television not long ago, a hot mug of tea in my hands. I also had a biscuit. (And by biscuit, I mean a cookie. They insist on calling them biscuits here and it is just easier to go along with it or they start to cry.) Just as I am about to take a sip of the hot and delicious, I look up AND THERE IS CHARLIE’S FACE, REALLY HUGE, TALKING AT ME FROM THE TELEVISION. And I said, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” and the tea went everywhere and the biscuit rolled under the sofa and chaos generally reigned for about two minutes.

Because you don’t expect the heads of people you know to come popping out of your TV. And he didn’t come POPPING out—he stayed in there, but you know what I mean. This was what I saw. (And no, it didn’t look like it was being broadcast through ten thousand miles of space . . . this is just the only video of it I could find online. And yes, that is LILY ALLEN asking him a question.)

So, after I sopped up the tea and got a new cup and a new biscuit and sent Charlie an angry text message and he was all “ha ha ha, I wrecked your biscuit and made you spill tea,” I sat back down to try it again and then THIS came on! See that woman driving the car? That’s my friend GRACE DANGEROUS! And that’s not her kid! She doesn’t have kids! That’s some WHINY RENT-A-KID.

I didn’t even change the channel, either! It happened MERE SECONDS later!

Same thing again. Tea, everywhere. Biscuit, under sofa. Because . . . what was going on? Why were all these people I knew on television? Is everyone in England on television? IT WOULDN’T SURPRISE ME.

Anyway, I went back to my computer and watched Charlie’s video on how to drink tea, and that straightened me out a little. But he still feels no shame and snickers about it when the subject comes up.

visualkeipenguin said...
Do the English really over-use words like "rather" and "quite"? They seem to in books and movies... Do the English find American accents half as cool as we find theirs?

Yes, visualkeipenguin, they do. They say “rather” and “quite” quite a lot, rah-thah. And . . . um, no. Not as far as I can tell. Non-American English speaking types, feel free to chime in on this one. Some of you seem annoyed by our accents, some of you seem ambivalent. One or two of you seem quaintly charmed. You need to tell us. What's the story? I can't do all the research around here.

allyb said...
What exactly is the point of tumbling down a hill to get cheese?

I’ll tell you why, allyb . . . because ALL THE SHOPS HERE CLOSE AT ABOUT THREE IN THE AFTERNOON. Even the ones that say they will be open 24 hours are kind of lying about it. So to get everyone out at the end of the day (3 PM), the shopkeeper throws the tastiest piece of cheese out the door and everyone runs after it and they close up the shop. THANKS FOR NOTHING, TESCOS.

rebecca said...
Well, I'm American, but I've never been further north than Colorado, so I know nothing about everywhere.

U.S. question: I was wondering--is it true that people are meaner up north? Every now and then, someone will say something about "southern hospitality," whatever that is. I don't notice anyone being particularly hospitable down here. A lot of people are courteous, and some are even downright nice, but I thought most anyone would do that much.

U.K. Question: Can you tell us about some of the slang they use over there? Like the really really weird stuff?

It’s not that we are meaner up north . . . we’re just a little more brisk, and maybe less likely to say hi to you on the street. I was born and raised in Philadelphia, and have lived in New York for a while now, and if you just start randomly speaking to me in public, I’ll smile and talk back, but am likely to think you are insane. (Exception: complaining about the subway. This is always okay.) But I also spent a lot of time in Texas when I was small, because my father worked there, and whenever I visit any of the more southernly states, I remember that people may just say hello for no reason at all and ask me how I am, and that my first reaction shouldn’t be to mace them and run away.

Like when I was staying with Betty Vox in Atlanta, and we went to the grocery store (where we saw Andre 3000 buying vegetables, making that officially the coolest grocery store in the world). And when we checked out, everyone was SO NICE and the staff was offering to help us with the groceries just as an extra act of niceness . . . and I remembered that they used to carry our groceries to the car in Texas. THEY DON’T DO THAT IN NEW YORK.

Now, about the UK and the terminology . . . I DO have a lot to tell you. I have researched this very hard over the last few days, and have much information.

First, one very good thing to know is that the terms “English” and “British” do not mean the same thing. We Americans tend to be a bit of a mess with our geography, so . . . if you are planning to ever come to this part of the world, or if you have friends here, use these terms right and you will instantly seem more aware and cooler.

The UK = consists of England, Northern Ireland, Wales, and Scotland

Great Britain = the actual island that forms England, Scotland, and Wales

England = just the country containing the English

English = people who live in England

British = people living in any part of the UK—so the Scottish are British but they are NOT English

See? Come to my blog, LEARN STUFF.

But I have more! I have started a comprehensive study of the language here, and have complied the first in what is likely to be a series of lists to help you sound native when you travel. Forget the whole “pants means underwear” thing. Everyone knows that. THIS is the good stuff. You won't hear these terms on TV--this is the stuff you can only get on the street. This is the stuff the English tourism board doesn't want you to know about.

MJ’S LIST OF REAL ENGLISH TERMS

SCROUNCH: to steal porridge or any other hot cereal from a street vendor

SCROUNCHLING: one who steals porridge or any other hot cereal from a street vendor

WEE SCROUNCHLING: a very small Scrouchling

THE SCROONCH: the head of a porridge-stealing syndicate. The Scroonch collects all the porridge from the scrounchlings and normally keeps a 40% cut. Usually can be identified by the stovepipe hat and light-up walking stick so favored by Scroonches. Also they usually have a lot of porridge.



A FAMOUS SCROONCH

SCRAMPLE: the act of running after one has been caught scrounching

THE JUBBLY: the police

JUBBTUB: a police car

HUBJUBBLY: the police station

RUB-A-JUBB: an annual event in which you can touch a police officer’s hat for one pound. For some reason, this is hugely popular and often causes riots to break out, riots which can’t be stopped because the police are all busy letting the public touch their hats.

WODGER: an undercover scrouchling who is secretly working for the jubbly to stem the tide of porridge-stealing OR a metric portion of cake (i.e. “I will have one wodger of cake for me, and one for the wee scrounchling.”)

BUTTERED WODGER: an undercover scrounchling who is secretly working for the jubbly, but who has actually been found out by the other scrounchlings and is in for a beating, probably from the Scroonch’s walking stick.

GORDON RAMSEY: a famous tap dancer beloved by all of the UK for his mild manners and collection of prize rabbits. Featured on 60% of all UK television shows.

There you go. I will be bringing you more of these in upcoming posts, and look forward to reading and answering other questions.


FOUR THINGS FOR YOU TO KNOW ABOUT:

1. I completely forgot to mention that Girl At Sea is now out in paperback! Now, with jeans!

2. I’ve been on Facebook for a while, but I haven’t really started keeping up with page until recently. One the things I added was an Honesty Box, so if there is something you feel you must tell me but simply can’t say to my face (or blog), you can leave it there TOTALLY ANONYMOUSLY!

3. I’m not the only one on Facebook you might want to know. Scarlett has just joined, and she tells me that she will answer questions not only for herself, but for any other Martins you want to know about, including Spencer. Servicey!

4. In case you haven’t seen it, the second part of the mj and libba bray spectacular is now up on Youtube!



AND NOW FOR THE PRIZES

You know, I said I was just going to give things away for the month of May, but I LIKE IT, and I just got a big new box of Scarletts . . . so I’m not stopping for now! Today, I’ll be giving away another book to a random commenter JUST BECAUSE I CAN (though, it is helpful to know if you WANT one, because a bunch of you have copies now).

Today’s winner is ANNA C.