This bunch of clowns better keep a low profile if they want to kill off media circus
MY PARENTS were strict. Products of the 1940s and 1950s when Catholicism ruled supreme, they took a somewhat North Korean approach to cultural products they deemed unsuitable for me.
I have fond memories of my father switching off an RTÉ matinee showing of ‘Black Narcissus’ when I was 10 (still one of my favourite films), banning heavy metal when I was 15 (I still love heavy metal), or refusing to get me a skateboard for Christmas because, my parents claimed, people were using them to worship the devil. Years later, I realised that they were mixing skateboards up with ouija boards.
One thing they never censored was books. So it was that I found myself reading Stephen King’s ‘It’ aged 13.
The genius of King’s work lies not in making us scared of what we can see, as horror fiction author HP Lovecraft did, but in looking deep into the human soul and showing us the simple horrors of life on Earth, such as family holidays (‘The Shining’), figuring out how to work domestic appliances (‘Maximum Overdrive’), the perils of cat ownership (‘Pet Sematary’), the importance of a religious upbringing (‘Carrie’), or American democracy (‘The Stand’). But in ‘It’, he tapped into one of our most understandable fears: clowns. As another remake of King’s meisterwerk hits our screens, it would appear that one bunch of clowns aren’t going to take this pie in the face to their profession lying down.
Two professional clowns appeared on Britain’s ‘GMTV’ to point out that – spoiler alert – the Pennywise character from ‘It’ is only one of the many physical manifestations of the being, before going on to say the film was cheap – a low blow, even coming from a pair of men wearing clown pants and facepaint on live TV.
But perhaps the best protest about ‘It’ was in the US, where professional clowns thought the best way to win back hearts and minds was to stage a protest outside cinemas screening the film. This resulted in members of the public, emerging blinking into the sunlight following two hours of clown-based horror, only to be confronted with a bunch of angry clowns. King must be delighted that his self-fulfilling prophecy has come to pass. The clowning profession might do well to note that the only way back from this PR disaster is to kill the media circus – and the only way to kill a circus is to go for the juggler.
Cruzin’ for a bruisin’...
SPEAKING of sad horrors, spare a moment for depressed vampire Ted Cruz. After the ignominy of a presidential race that saw Trump repeatedly humiliate him, and an ongoing joke about him being the Zodiac killer (which he isn’t, by the way), the American senator has now hit the headlines for his Twitter account liking a pornographic tweet. Were he a Democrat, it would be taken as a sign of the moral decay of liberals everywhere; sadly for Cruz, he is a member of the Republican Party, whose puritanical zeal means enjoying a bit of filth on Twitter is not OK. It seems that poor Cruz is doomed for humiliation no matter what he does, so perhaps he would be better embracing his own decline – and appearance – and star in an X-rated remake of Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot’ titled ‘Count Cuckula’.
It couldn’t suck worse than the last 12 months of his career.
Wetting baby’s head OK after all
REJOICE, pregnant ladies – or at least rejoice as much as you can while incubating a 10-pound loaf of a child. A report this week in the medical journal ‘BMJ Open’ has revealed that a glass of wine during pregnancy is not going to do major harm, and while total abstinence might be healthier, you don’t need to cause yourself anguish over a drop of chablis during a ‘Narcos’ marathon.
This is great news for the entire population of Ireland, whose lives from conception onward are fuelled by medicinal boozing.
Frankly, how anyone gets through the various delights of pregnancy without a drink or two is a miracle in itself.
Home troubles in paradise
FINALLY, spare a moment for Richard Branson, the billionaire whose Caribbean island home was trashed by Hurricane Irma.
Branson laid the blame for the hurricane squarely at the feet of man-made climate change.
Given he part-owns a massive airline whose planes presumably do not run on sunlight, it was a plot twist akin to the moment in horror films when you realise that the killer is inside the house.
If there is a lesson for us all, it’s that those Euromillions ads that suggest we should buy an island are really quite misleading. That, and the planet is dying.