Bicycle Film Festival
I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it now – so sang Freddy Mercury as he captured the collective thoughts of a nation. Cycling is obviously on the up, you can see it with your own eyes out there on the mean streets of Londinium. Personally, I’d rather walk. But this isnt all about me, its all about giving the people what they want, we live in a democratic society after all. So cyclists, rise up! Get on your two wheeled thingy and cycle down to the barbican where you can watch films about your vehicle of choice until you begin to turn into bicycles yourselves…
The Third Police Man
Check out the segue, this article is like the written equivalent of a very tight (ableton live) mix. Because, dear reader, the second slice of random this week is a book about turning into a bicycle. Not only that, it’s one of the finest comic novels ever written by one of the finest writers who ever lived: The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien. Sort of an edgier, slightly more low brow (read: readable) Joyce. The Third Policeman is a psychedelic journey you’ll never forget. When you’re as much as a heathen as I am, it can be difficult to get excited about a novel, that’s for the boffins to do. However, The Third Policeman is such an accessible, funny, beautifully written book that even an eejat like me can get into it. As books go, its a proper Banger.
Mandalay, Edgware Road
Burmese cuisine isn’t half as popular as its geographically local counterparts – Thai and Indonesian are much easier to come by in this multicultural megalopolis of ours. The food of Burma takes influences from Southern Asia as well as South East Asia, so the result is a kind of Indian crossed with a Thai crossed with a Chinese. Sort of Indainese. No, scrap that – its Burmese, just realized I was embarking on the culinary equivilant of the terrible 1970s english tradition of anglicising an asian name: ‘What’s your name mate, Asif? Nah, cant pronouce that mate, we’ll call you Adam. Or maybe John, its easier. Yeah, John, that sounds right.’ Anyway, forgive me, the food at Mandalay is fantastic, genuinely exotic – pickled lamb and a soup just called ‘dozen ingredient’, the staff are lovely and the prices are good. Get down there, I’m going to shut up.