Almodovar for children.

Anyone with a brain knows the work of film director Pedro Almódovar. Those who don't, fine. Stay in your corner and keep quiet. Anyhow, I watched his latest - at least, I think it's his latest - film last night, La Piel Que Habito, The Skin I Inhabit (for want of a better translation) and I was bowled over by one thing, and one thing only.

That the plot was typical Almódovar didn't surprise me in the least - photogenic cosmetic surgeon Antonio Banderas performs major surgery on his daughter's rapist to recreate his scarred and deceased wife - is par for the course and, most remarkably, appears completely credible after thirty minutes or so. What is extraordinary harks back to a post I published concerning the French film Les Derniers Jours du Monde quite a few months back, now. There, we had cunnilingus, full-frontal nudity, incest and fellatio accompanied by a little green box on the back of the sleeve, stating Tous Publics - All Audiences - basically meaning that your five-year old son can watch with impunity, providing he's already mastered most of the techniques listed above, I suppose. La Piel Que Habito contains the following elements: Full-frontal nudity, rape, sexual intercourse, cunnilingus, torture, group sex and murder. Its rating? You've guessed it: Tous Publics. I really wonder what it takes on this side of the pond to get an 'X'- rating. If anyone knows, drop me a line, 'coz that'll be a film worth seeing…

Get Frisky, Be that Fifty!

OK, I know it was "Be Thrifty, Stick to Fifty", a government-led advertising slogan in the '70's exhorting motorists to reduce their speed in the interest of saving money and petrol during a socialist-induced fuel crisis in my childhood, but that magical, round figure has additional significance in the developed world: it elicits most from highly-placed powers who have, in general, no other interest in your existence other than that engendered by your crossing a chronological rubicon.

I'm talking about being Man + 50th Birthday = Humiliating Medical Tests. Our 'president', a man so insignificant he wasn't even present at the conception of his own children, has deemed it appropriate to write to me, informing me that, as a now fifty-year old legal resident of the cradle of human rights, I need to take advantage of the nation's advanced health programme and have a highly-trained medical professional stick his index finger up my arse. I will then need to pay him, but, apparently, thanks to the wonders of social medicine, I shall be reimbursed to the tune of 100%. This is, of course, absolutely brilliant. Before the arrival of social security, people wishing to avail themselves of this service generally had to pay a lot more and had no guarantee of being reimbursed. No guarantee of their professional just using his finger, either. In a nutshell, this is why France still leads the world. At least in terms of doctors legally violating their patients. Vive la France!

If that's a Farrah Fawcett lookalike, OK. If it's Bjorn Borg, no thanks.

Acupuncture

Anyone ever tried it? It's amazing. Still, you need a suitable ailment/neurosis/masochistic desire to have a higly-paid medical professional to stick pins in you before turning this dream into reality but hell, it's worth it. I've been going to mine for about a year, now, and he's completely cleared up my manual exczema (a real downer if you're a pianist) and is now squaring up to take on my nascent osteoarthritis. Yup, that's the joy of being fifty, it's just one frigging party till dawn, I tell you. It's not like I'm even overweight. I'm not, and I will vanquish this problem. He stuck a load of pins in me then hooked them up to an electric stimulator. I wondered, briefly, if he'd studied in Argentina or Chile in the '70's but then realised it didn't hurt. That makes writing a cheque afterwards a lot easier. My knees haven't sounded like small woodland creatures being squashed in a wine press today, either, so I can only assume the first session has already done some good.

Amazing!

I've not posted a picture of a pair of tits for months, but people still make the pilgrimage to FrenchFingers - as they should -in search of those celestial protruberances which illuminate our male days in such a delightful fashion. Ok, if you insist…