The film is one of many ‘quota quickies’, B-featurettes shown in cinemas, an unintended side-effect of the Cinematograph Film Act of 1927.

Director Harold Baim seems to have had a real suburballardian fascination for motorways, multi-storey car parks and tower blocks.

Discovered thanks to a wonderful documentary by Laurie Taylor, which just finished. (I’ll upload it tomorrow after it appears on Listen Again.)

Update: The good people at Speechification, an excellent weblog that posts highlights from Radio 4 and other ‘intelligent speech’ stations, have archived the documentary.

According to Scotland on Sunday, Han was chosen by the judging panel (including Elle McPherson and, er, Dinos Chapman) for her ‘signature smear of dark lipstick’ and ability to ‘work a pencil skirt with aplomb’. Is there an emoticon for helpless giggling? If so, insert here.

Having enjoyed countless hours over the past decade sipping warm champagne outside the changing rooms of high-end boutiques, saying things like ‘Ooh, yes, lovely! Buy it and then we can go for a pint.’ or ‘Christ no! You look like Christopher Biggins.’ at ten minute intervals, I trust I will merit a mention in La McGill’s acceptance speech when she inevitably and deservedly wins.

After Ruthie and Doug’s splendid performance collecting an award on Amy Winehouse’s behalf at the Vodafone Live shindig last weekend, I might have to add an ‘Award Ceremony News’ section to the site.

It’s very funny, and very, very silly. Fake news—a report on the underground sport of Church Fighting—is leavened with a healthy dollop of puerile filth, like the trailer for blockbuster musical Dr. Screwlittle & His Suck-Me-Suck-You (from the makers of Kiddie Fiddler on the Roof!), or the scene in which an unfortunate serf is made to fellate a dragon. Go and have a listen.

Glaswegian readers may remember Innes as ‘that Angry Germans man’, famed for his S&M-riddled performances in Nazi uniform at top nitespot Optimo, singing that rousing child abuse/WWII anthem, Mount Florida’s Yo La Kinski:

[Click through to the site to listen to the audio]

As seen on the Guardian Talk board. No, me neither.

It’s not every day an application pays you a compliment, but that’s what it felt like when I checked to see how many mails I had to read today, only to find Mail fluttering its eyelashes and proclaiming my 1337 status.

Yes, I know I need to get around to deleting all those unread messages. And maybe organising my Inbox in some way or another might be a good idea too. It’s just that I can’t be b0tH3r3D.

Hello Raymond!

[Takes a closer look]

Oh no, it’s Suzanne!

Since I have long flowing auburn locks in the manner of a big girly girl, I can see what this young fellow was driving at. And it is certainly more inventive - and much funnier - than the cries of “Poof!” I have to endure every single sodding day of the week, from stunted, screw-faced little gobshites in trackie tops and caps. (Keep up lads - I think you’ll find your average identikit poof looks a lot more like you than me.)

But why Raymond and Suzanne?

Who they?

Can any Scottish folk enlighten me?