During a break from Good Will Hunting on Sunday night, there was an ad for some new game on the Nintendo DS. One of those puzzle games designed to make you throw the DS at the wall, or at fellow passengers on public transport. "I hate them" I spat "with their stupid maths questions. Fuck off! That's not fun. That's not a game." Really, I hate that I cannot answer their stupid maths questions. You can be sure that if I could I would think it was only massive fun altogether. "Yeah" he agrees "I'm not sure that how quickly you can answer those sort of questions is any use as an accurate measure of mental agility either. I reckon that..."
We're both momentarily distracted by a trailer for Letters to Juliet on the television. "That looks fucking terrible" he says, and I agree. I can't believe that Gael García Bernal is in it and there's not a sniff of him in the ad, but I don't say that bit out loud. "Pure shite" I say instead, nodding my assent. "Anyway" he says purposefully "I was saying..."
...and then there's a pause, because he can't remember what he was saying. Neither can I. We look blankly at one another for two full minutes, slackjawed gobdaws, before the film about the mathematical genius resumes.
We're both momentarily distracted by a trailer for Letters to Juliet on the television. "That looks fucking terrible" he says, and I agree. I can't believe that Gael García Bernal is in it and there's not a sniff of him in the ad, but I don't say that bit out loud. "Pure shite" I say instead, nodding my assent. "Anyway" he says purposefully "I was saying..."
...and then there's a pause, because he can't remember what he was saying. Neither can I. We look blankly at one another for two full minutes, slackjawed gobdaws, before the film about the mathematical genius resumes.
