Shaven primate more like.
I was listening to the infinitely movie knowledgeable JJ Daddy-o and Daniel Hughes discuss When Barry Met Sally - I type listening but 'aware that they were talking' is probably more accurate - when it dawned on me just how uncouth I really am.
When I watch a film, or listen to a piece of music, I have literally no interest, or seeming ability to retain knowledge of the gubbings that go in to making that particular piece of work.
Like if someone says 'the direction in that film was excellent' I have no fucking idea what they are talking about.
If these actors are so brilliant, why do they need to be told which way to walk? And who the fuck is no good at giving directions?
Apart from me that is when I am deliberately giving bad instructions to folk who dare to stop their car and ask me to better their Sat Nav, just call me Tom Tom bitches.
Anyway, they were on about Rob Reiner, who, while I sort of recognised by name, I actually had no idea who he was. And this despite Stand by Me, one of his works, being an absolute all time favourite movie of mine.
And it isn't just them having me realise my neanderthalic nature.
My best friend was having some grief getting love out of an electronics manufacturer, when their expensive shaver had gone kaput. They were all 'have you got a receipt' and 'it's out of warranty sir' wheeling.
So I reeled back my: Have you not heard of the Sales of Goods Act? Fit for purpose, warranty smarranty six years life is reasonable expectancy for electrical goods etc, exfuckingceterer.
Impressed, and smiling, my chum said "And now a line from Shakespere please".
I even fluffed the 'Alas, poor Yorik' line I learnt off of that beer advert.
That's not to say I don't appreciate arts and shit.
But I have no idea if something is even arty?
The Darjeeling Limited, is that arty? I love that.
John Wilson paintings are they arty? I love them too.
Andrea Bocelli is she arty? I am sometimes in the mood for her music (P.S. I know he's a dude, dudes).
I am current reading a Chuck Palahniuk novel, does this make me clever?
I have bought bottles of wine that are more than four quid. Art nouveau?
Readers' Wives, is that art?
It appears I like what I like.
Makes me an ignoramus I guess?
But at times, obviously not at this one, I am told I am articulate (Dan once said profound to his infinite error).
I have absolutely no idea what the bollocks this blog post is about?
Can you help me?