A remark I made today at the car boot sale I was selling at led my mother to think I had a crush on him. I don't, it's just that I am acutely aware of just how powerful the man is.
According to wikianswers, he's worth £112 million.
Although the Daily Mail, quoting from the Sunday Time's Rich List, claims it is £165million.
Is it wrong of someone like myself to wish to possess such fortune and wealth? Ultimately, money is often respect. And I do crave respect.
My mother has also seen fit to get behind Ann Widdecombe (not literally) in her latest pursuit of Strictly Come Dancing success. Also, she is anti Paul Daniels, because of his & his wife's current outing on a marriage behind the scenes show, and Gavin Henson, because we should be behind "our Charlotte". (we're not Welsh, we've never met her, so I'm not sure how she's "our" Charlotte, except that she's also female.)
I went to see Buried at the cinema on Thursday. Claustrophobic doesn't even describe it. It's really very good. The editing, and the camera work, and the acting and storyline all pull together and allow for the coffin-location not to get boring. Although the frustration you of course feel for the character Paul can be nowhere near the the frustration he feels. And the near-elation at the end when you so desperately hope it'll work out ok, but deep down you know it can't happen, met my expectations.
I can't see how it will do well in DVD sales though. Possibly it'll find a market in Ryan Reynolds fans, those who didn't make it to see it at the cinema, and those who quite like the knew genre of Iraq/Afghanistan war films, that focus on the mental and psychological effects of war, as opposed to the action and the death.
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