Tuesday, July 08, 2003

To blog or not to blog

I've been left to fend for myself tonight because Butter has gone to an al fresco performance of Twelfth Night. I probably could have gone (note to self: remember to ask girlfriend why I wasn't actually invited!) but Shakespeare is one of those things, like running and watersports, that I don't do. When Butter started going out with me, she misguidedly believed that I was cultured, because I read a lot. Since then, she's realised her mistake and there's been a culture war going on between us. Long time readers of MarkCity might recall that she forced me to go to the ballet earlier this year. In return, I dragged her to the Big Brother eviction. She enjoys Radio 4, I dig Radio 1. She wants to go to the theatre, I'd rather play on the GameCube. She says tomato, I say toma'o. But I'm not a complete philistine. I read highbrow literature (but not classics because they're boring). I know my art from my elbow. And I watch films with subtitles. So I could be much worse, as I realised last time I was on the South Bank. I'd popped into the National Film Theatre to use the loo, and while in there I heard the following exchange between a bloke and his 10-year-old son:

Son: What is this place?
Dad: It's the National Film Theatre, innit?
Son: What's that?
Dad: It's like a cinema. Where they show foreign films.
Son (astonished): Foreign films? But... how can people understand them?
Dad: They have subtitles, don't they?
Son (incredulous): Foreign films? Why?

I would guess he's not a big Shakespeare fanatic either. But here's a thought: if Shakespeare were alive today, I bet he'd have a blog.