An Archer's Life for Me?

I saw The Weather Man the other day. I enjoyed it but tD kept getting up to do other things which is a sure sign she did not. Mind you, since Bambino Bamboo appeared (most definitely not as if by magic) she’s been scattier than a bag of jazz cats. She probably forgot we were watching it.

Nicolas Cage is fast becoming my Favourite Actor I Think I Don’t Like. He’s really very good in the film, and has a lovely drawly delivery that you think would get annoying but somehow doesn’t. Hope Davis is in it and I always think that if she’s a film it’s a safe bet that watching it won’t be like having hot bricks crammed under your eyelids. It also features a most bizarre performance from Michael Caine as Father of The Weather Man. He’s supposed to be a Big American Man Writer™ and I can’t make up my mind whether he’s brilliant or terrible, what with the odd American version of RP he goes with. It’s really bizarre. I recommend you get The Weather Man out if you can’t think what else to watch. It’s much better than The Inside Man, for example. But your mind probably doesn’t go completely blank every time you step into Blockbusters like mine does, so you don’t need my film tips thank you very much.

Anyway, the point of this is that David Spritz (Cage) takes up archery, to help his daughter who is being called camel-toe at school. It looks very cool. The archery, not the camel-toe. Not even Julianne Moore could carry a camel-toe off. Or could she? Let’s take a moment to think about that, shall we?

Okay. That done I thought I might like to also take up archery:

Me: Hey, I’m thinking I might take up archery. You know, like the Nicholas Cage character in the Weather Man.
tD: The Weather Man? Did we watch that?
Me: Yes. Anyway, archery. What do you think?
tD: What do I think? God. I think that you are the last person, on any planet not just earth, who ought to take up a hobby involving a weapon. You are, after all, the woman who can barely walk down the road without befalling some terrible misfortune involving bruising and grazing and tears. Which need moping up. Often injuring innocent passers-by. It’s only a matter of time before you accidentally assault the health visitor. God. Don’t take up fucking archery. Ever. I will kill you myself. With my bare hands. Just to save myself the trauma of having to visit you in hospital with an arrow sticking out of your chest or some other hideous, hideous near death thing. Please. Don’t. Fucking archery. I can’t believe that you would even say that to me. Archery. God. Fuck. God.
Me; Okay, okay. I promise; no archery.

Although really I’m off to buy a long bow and some big arrows this afternoon. Wheeeeee. I’ll race you to Accident and Emergency. Bags I the ICU bed.