Johnny Nobody (1961) Priest Nigel Patrick Investigates Blasphemy & Divine Intervention

James Ronald Mulcahy (William Bendix) was a successful author. Was this quiet and quaint Irish village actually his birth place? I wasn’t sure. He was an American, maybe the returning prodigal son? With his newest book flying off the shelves he had money to flash. To the dismay of the local residents he had decided to settle within the community and they weren’t practically best pleased. James Mulchay’s mouth was as big as his personality, HUGE!. A thuggish man, large and obnoxious. You see, the village was centered around the parish church and the locals were all God-fearing Catholics. Mulchay’s book on the other hand was centered directly against the Church and the belief of an all seeing and powerful God. He was an atheist and extremely opinionated about it. You didn’t need to ask him or listen to him, he would bulldoze his thoughts onto you as loud as he possibly could. So one thing you didn’t want to see was James Mulchay matching down the road heading for the local pub. Sober he was unbearable but filled with whisky he became the most loathsome, offensive, man on Earth.

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Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? (1964) Jazz Clubs, Delinquents & Record Shops In London Soho

A friend sent me word of this once rare, and I imagine, seldom seen British film oddity called Where Has Poor Mickey Gone? (1964). I’d never heard of it, however, I knew the filming location well. Set in the early 60s in London’s Soho area. Long before I would travel there on the train from my south coast hometown every other weekend to spend my wage packet on vinyl records. From the late 80s through to the early 2000s it was a mecca to me and many music heads for its vast assemble of filled to the brim, record shops. Most famously for Berwick Street, a street lined with the holy grail of crate digging flicking fingers.

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The Squeeze (1977) A Dirty Gritty London Thriller With A Drunk Ass Stacy Keach

He was an expert at standing up on moving subway trains as he swayed from side to side. His eyes half closed as the sound of sloshed, sozzled, synthesizers played inside his head. He had his very own theme tune going on. Jim Naboth (Stacy Keach) bobbed around waiting for the carriage doors to slide open. Heavy booze fumes radiated from his body. The musty aroma was laced with the smoke and ash of a box of 20 fags, and he may recall a cigar at some point during the night? He halved smiled. The stench helped to keep the commuters at bay as the waft freely spread itself about. It helped open a clear pathway for his impending mission. As the train suddenly braked to a stop at the station he gracefully bends almost in half before quickly steadied himself and stepping off onto the platform. His eyes went in many directions, however, he knew the way home. Of course, he had done this trip many times before. Last orders at the pub, get chucked out on the street, grab a bottle in the off-licence and then return home for a cheeky nightcap. Fag in mouth he tries to light it whilst moving diagonally but luckily with some form of forward motion.

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The Window (1949) And The Tragic Case Of Bobby Driscoll

Firstly, anyone heard “crying wolf” anywhere around me will be getting a jolly good telling off, that’s for sure. Using my esteemed name in vain, well whatever next? Further more, wolf’s don’t cry! And don’t listen to those wicked rumours about that wolf shaped ball of fluff, whimpering and sobbing at the back of the Odeon cinema in 1999 during the opening scene of Disney’s Tarzan. It simply wasn’t true, it was not! Sniffles. Oh no, I’ve just thought back to it. “Oh dang it! pass the tissues, please!“. Ok the legend of the crying wolf is true so I’ll let you use the quotation for the Aesop’s Fable to start the film.

Opening intro –The boy cried ‘wolf’. ‘Wolf’ several times and each time the people came to help him they found that there wasn’t any ‘wolf.”

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