Grotesque

As you probably know, I don't often use my mobile phone to take pictures of unsuspecting people. In fact I think it's really rather freakish. Hence, I never do it.

However I am embarrassed to admit that my gold-plated moral conviction suffered a terrible lapse last week while travelling on the Central Line.

There was a woman sitting towards the middle of the carriage who caught my attention. I was transfixed by her and couldn't remember where on earth I'd seen her before. Somehow, she looked terribly familiar.

Then it dawned on me like in The Witches of Eastwick when they suddenly remember the name of Jack Nicholson's character!

The National Gallery in London, a painting by Quinten Massys...

Far be it for me to start casting nasturtiums but the resemblance was uncanny. I was shocked.

I must also report that this last week has been very difficult work-wise. Especially making the effort to stay motivated has been like clutching at spanners. Or alcohol.

Friday was just hell - like trying to thread straw through the eye of a camel. It didn't help that the day started with me waking up on a couch in one of the dressing rooms. Urgh.

But hopefully you'll understand when I show this this...

This is the pile of tapes in the office:

And this is the pile of tapes at home:

Somehow I am going to have to take all those hundreds of hours of rushes and turn them into four minutes of kick-ass, fuck-off amazing fucking showreel. Preferably by Tuesday.

I don't know what music I am going to use. I don't know which effects I can use.

I don't know where the fuck to begin.