Revolver

Allo. My naime’s “Revolver” and I am the stahr of a film of the saime naime by one Goihy Richie. Thaht’s right, A Film. You might look at me and expect me to be more accustomed to appearing at a BNP recruitment drive, along wiv my older brothers Phil and Graaahnt (little bit of Eastenders humour for you there, dahrlin’), because I too am something of a meaty slaphead wiva husky voice, but no, I am in fact a celebrity star of the silvahr screen. Thaht’s why you ought to be paying attention to what I am saying to you naahhw. I have a liking of notable quotes from great men of times paahst, but nothing they had to say is in any way more useful in life than the fruits of my own tongue, so get used to hearing them. Sometimes you may notice that I pronounce long words slowly, breathily and foe-nettie-cally, but this is not because I like The Simpsons, but because I am a self-important, cod-philosophising cock-er-ney caaaaahhhhnt. This, in my ‘umble, is another reason why you ought to be paying attention to what I am saying to you.

Naahhw. Some “people” have claimed thaht Goihy Richie is not just a one trick pony, but a one trick pony what has been flogged to death and sold dahrn the knacker’s yard for less than a pony, which is a Lahndahn way of saying twenty-faive paahnds. But as I say, in the film of my saime naime, “Why should a man do what he doesn’t like to do?”, and therefore by extension, “Why should a man not do what he doesn’t not like to do?” Think abaaht it. I have, but then I have benefitted somewhat from Goihy Richie’s experience to the tune of two Transporters, two Jet Lis, one and a half Cranks and an Italian Job – and I’m getting a Brazilian next year which, unless I am missing some subtle point, means that my crotch will soon look like my head and you caahn’t argue with thaht.

In the film of my naime I spend most of my time replying to people’s questions using an internal diah-a-log which only I can hear. This is a good idea, because mahch of what I say to myself wouldn’t go dahn all that well in polite society, unexpectedly being about “clucking crack-whores” and the like. I am also accompanied by a cool minimalist bass line that kicks in to another level with a cool-sounding drumbeat when I do things like “get in a lift when I don’t want to”, or “privately vocalise about things I’m thinking of”, and/or before and/or during totahly kicking orff, I expect.

Now I hang abaht with some pretty smart customers and one of them is Ray Li-ot-ta. He said something pretty fahkin’ profound just now, but I got in there first with something good too, which was this: “Well they do say, the harder the battle, the sweeter the vic-tor-y.” Nice. Then he said:

“A wise man once told me there’s only one rule in this world…

“A small question that drives all success…

“The more a man invests in that question…

“The more powerful that man will become.

“Can you guess what that question is, Mr. Green?”

Now the reason that that was a profound thing to say is not because he said it over such a long period of time, but that because I thought my naime was “Mr. Revolver”. I was thinking about this so hard that I didn’t even reply using my internal diah-a-log, but then Ray Li-ot-ta continued anyway. After five minutes and thirty-two seconds of the film not called Mr. Green he revealed what this vital small question was, and this time he said:

“What’s, in it, for me?”

And with exactly those words turning over in my mind, that was when I, that is me, the person writing this review, when I broke out of this pathetic cock-er-ney prison and went to make an early lunch.

PS: Ebert.

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