It was all too plot heavy and full of Crowe trying to be as cool as he was in Gladiator but failing because: a) he’s older and less hot, and b) everyone now knows he’s a borderline nutjob so it just seemed like a bit desperate. Like watching the aging bachelor uncle try to dance with the bridesmaids at weddings. Painful. Plus, more of the haunting woman wailing music, flash backs in wierd grey technicolour, cheesy lines about lambs and limes, or lions, I don’t know, and tough-but-hearts-of-gold sidekicks. Bored now. And that ginger guy from ER was in it, with a bad Scottish accent and a bow and arrow and that just didn’t work AT ALL.
So, yeah, you’re wrong. Bygones.
Plus, there’s only one rightful Robin Hood, and his name rhymes with Levin Bostner. You know i’m right.
Now, about this washing. Dear oh, dear, oh dear. What a keffufle (is that how you spell that?). I remember the Straddling Bath washing stance well from my gap year, it is so undignified and really doesn’t work at all. Your clothes are just wet, and wrinkled, and still not exactly Persil fresh.
Anyhoo, I reckon it won’t be long before you won’t miss any of the home appliances of which you speak. Rich and I spent a tedious 15 minutes trying to fix the broken dishwasher at the weekend, and my washing machine makes the entire house shake when it’s on its spin cycle. And the oven’s light is broken. And the hoover keeps turning itself off. See, aint so grand over here either.
But listen, dude. What else is happening? Where are you living now? When are you moving into the bachelorette pad with The Journalist? Have you started work now proper? Are you going trekking again? Have you been out boozing yet? Have you used your coffee mugs yet? Shall I send an emergency pants aid package via the Red Cross? I NEED MORE INFORMATION. Dammit.