Tim's Periscope

This afternoon while walking home from the bus stop I found a brand spanking new 32gb iPod Touch lying in the middle of the pavement. I stopped and stared at it for a second and to be honest couldn't believe my luck. Sat on the pavement was essentially 200 quids worth of equipment just begging to be pocketed.

To my shame I pocketed it and was more than happy to continue home counting my lucky stars. As I continued walking I noticed a young chap (maybe 19 or 20) walking about 150m further up the path.  At this point I realised that in all probabilty this iPod was his, because only moments earlier he must have been walking along the same stretch of path and would have had to be really absent minded not to have spotted the iPod looking up at him from the asphalt.

Over the next hundred meters or so I battled with my conscience. 

Sure the iPod wasn't mine but can it really be theft if I found it?  Does the owner deserve it back if he's not bothered to look after it?  Surely if I don't have it the next person to walk along will do.....especially in pikietown (Sandy Hill) where I live.

The guy ahead of me then stopped outside the school and started rummaging through his pockets and bag. Because he was now stationary and I was moving the gap between us was getting smaller.

Crunch time was approaching.

Do I keep this valuable piece of equipment (an item I do really want it has to be said), or do I approach him to see if he's lost it.

My mind was like a see-saw, one way then the other.  I'm not a thief but I am poor (well, short of cash...not really the same thing I suppose). He's lost his iPod but then it's his fault, why should I bail him out?

What would he do?

The moment of truth came.

As I walked past him, I held up the iPod and said, "I think you dropped this."

Now, remember I have no evidence that it was actually his and he might have just been a quick thinker and an oppourtunist but he replied, "Yeah that's mine, thanks for that mate."

With a quick nod of the head, I left him with the iPod and continued with my day.

I would like to say that sat here I have a warm glow.  The kind of glow you get when you do something spotaneous and good.

But that would be a lie, I don't.

Instead I'm sat here, counting the days till pay day thinking, "You idiot.  You foolish f*cking idiot. Why the hell did you give it back!!"

I did what I think was a good thing but now I regret it. A strange feeling to be sure.

Does that make me a misguided honest person?

Or a misguided dishonest person?

Or maybe I am just an idiot.

A foolish f*cking idiot.

Many wondered after the much-maligned Deathproof whether Quentin Tarantino had started to lose his touch.  It’s not that it was a terrible movie, it just didn’t quite hit the stratospheric levels of excellence associated with the work of the great director.

We needn’t have worried though. His newest piece, Inglourious Basterds, is a truly spectacular return to form.

Set in wartime France, Inglourious Basterds follows the story of a group of Jewish American soldiers on a simple mission-to hunt down and kill as many Nazis as they can.

From the seat-grippingly tense opening scenes to the blood curdlingly violent final sequences, Tarantino takes us on a ride through our emotions.   Every base is covered on the way, from the eye wateringly gory to the side splittingly funny, this movie leaves you breathless and itching for more at every turn.

Refreshingly, Tarantino failed to fall into the trap that other recent war films, such as Valkyrie and Defiance, have fallen into and not used English speaking actors for non-English speaking roles. The Germans speak German, the French speak French and so on, just the way it should be.  Despite the fact most of the dialogue is read rather than heard, Tarantino’s trade mark conversational writing style comes through brilliantly, with every character feeling well developed and real.

Brad Pitt headlines an excellent cast and plays the role of psychotic officer Lt. Aldo Raine to perfection, proving once again why he is regarded by many as Hollywoods hottest property, although the stand out performance comes from Austrian actor Christoph Waltz, who will surely will showered with awards for his turn as the suave German ‘Jew Hunter’ Col. Hans Landa. His characters presence in a scene instantly has you on edge, as he’s stalks through France in his attempts to round up the last of the Jews.

Although Inglourious Basterds won’t shape a decades worth of cinema in the same way as Tarantino’s masterpiece Pulp Fiction did, in years to come when his other works such as Jackie Brown and Kill Bill have started to fade from memory, Inglourious Basterds will still be shining brightly as an example of cinematic brilliance.

Be sure to check it out when it hits the stores on DVD and Bluray on December 7.

The other day I was precariously hanging out of my window enjoying my bedtime ciggie when two foxes- a big one and a little one, presumably related- walked out onto the path at the end of the garden.  They were having a bit of a sniff around when suddenly little fox froze, staring straight ahead down the path. After a split second big fox did the same. The foxes remained still for an intense moment before little fox bolted, pursued closely by big fox.

Intrigued to see what had scared the foxes I remained in the window, half expecting to see some pissed local come staggering down the path.

What actually came wondering along was a badger.

Now, I must admit I’d heard of badgers, seen pictures of them on TV and in books, maybe even had shaving foam applied to my face with part of one at some time, but I had never actually seen one in the flesh. Living, breathing and scaring little foxes.

The badger walked a few paces until he was right at the end of the garden path then spun his head towards my window and stared me straight in the eye.

We shared a moment, me and that badger.

It then turned around, walked over to a tin can on the path, picked it up and wondered off.

As I finished my smoke and retreated through the window into the warmth of my bedroom there was a brief moment when I wondered if I had in fact just seen two foxes and a womble but I quickly remembered that unlike badgers, wombles don’t exist. Pity.