Pig flesh and the ninety day week

Grotty.

For several months, the bedroom I usually sleep in has been dressed up as that of a disturbed eight-year old boy. Devilish posters, zombie masks, plastic toys and cartoon videotapes adorn my walls. This is particularly unusual for someone like me who chooses not to decorate my surrounds, as a rule. So why have I been sleeping with such misanthropic adornments looking over me? Simple. Corran is lazy.

My friend Corran is a film-maker, but not a very motivated film-maker. He's been directing a feature film, called Everybody Loves Murder, for quite some time: nearly two years, in fact. Far too long.

When a deal with a demolition site fell through, Corran asked me if he could film a scene in my room. I agreed, even though I knew that he'd have to spend a few hours preparing (clearing my room and laying down old carpet) and a few hours filming (cast and crew clustered around my living space).

Shooting went overtime, and he didn't quite finish everything in the one session so we had to leave my room like that until he could get everyone back. Just a couple of days away, he said, and I thought I could live with the smelly dusty carpets for a little while if it helped get the movie made.

Well, a couple of days turned out to be a couple of weeks. One of the actors was leaving the country, so I guess that spurred him on. Unfortunately, we still didn't get it all done—but at least the carpet wasn't needed for the rest.

Cutting a long story slightly shorter, Corran and his crew took another few months but finally made it around tonight and filmed some close up gore shots. Have you ever seen a side of pork covered by stiff cardboard and wrapped in layers of clothes? I have now. I saw it being chopped with an axe, and I saw blackcurrant juice being poured into the wound. It sounds disgusting, and it was disgusting.

I'm glad that's over with, but I feel a little queasy. I'm more worried about the bacterial contamination that may well have occurred with raw meat being handled in such a non-chalant fashion.

Yuck.