Recently my brother and I were lucky enough to be voted second place in the inaugural Thunder Clap award. To quote their press release… “The British Thunderclap Award was set up to find and publicly recognise the director who, as voted by the British film audience, is producing the most innovative or interesting work in British independent film. Be it in features, shorts, documentaries or fiction, the award aims to reward the director who so clearly stamps his or her…

All of which previous ranting brings me back to the bar of the Old Oak Manor and four or five pints of (appropriately named) Directors’ bitter and a conversation with some old friends about a low-budget (£500k) comedy script that we could hopefully write in the space of a weekend. I hope you’re following this. Wednesday 4th July The hole has been repaired and so I spend the morning painting my ceiling. Also start listening to the new Frank Black…

This is Zee: He is standing here: And for those of you not on intimate terms with all the commercial ports of the Scandanivan seaboard this is the delightful Danish coastal town of Arhus. Zee was here with Chris and myself to watch the first ever performance on Danish soil of singer/songwriter Soko who, at the time, was enjoying top ten Danish chart success with her song “I’ll Kill Her”. Soko is French and brilliant. I’m not going to attempt…

OK bare with me I’m still a bit drunk. What do I remember? I remember the taxi. The taxi to Potters Bar from Soho. Ouch. I remember getting money out to pay for that. Which is both miraculous and tragic. I remember the driver listening to the most appalling radio station in the world, playing nothing but mid eighties power ballads. I remember being woken up in Balans at four with Chris and being told to get a taxi. And…

Now the last time I wrote about foxes on here I ended up getting into a rather protracted argument with lovely Gerardine from Film4, so it’s not without some trepidation that I start this. However I’m talking about film foxes or foxes on film or any fox from the 20th Century. I’m talking about three real 21st century foxes not more than a few days old gallivanting about in my back garden. I’m on the phone. It’s a beautiful spring…

Recently I’ve been writing a lot and going out only to take brief and mentally revitalising walks in the countryside. It’s been great for me but hasn’t given me that much to write about here for your further entertainment and distraction. Still, maybe that’s meant that you’ve stopped wasting your time reading shit on the internet and have got on with some proper work. You can thank me later. Yesterday though I did go out and here are some of…

But clearly not too tired to alliterate. Or lie. We’re shooting a bunch of viral ad’s for the Civil Service Retirement Fellowship which means that for the first time since the end of Panda, Chris and I are back behind the camera. Even more so in Chris’ case because budgetary restraints meant that Zee has insisted that Chris lights and operates as well, something he’s not done since we shot the first version of our film Old Man Dies back…

OK, right, well, last weekend Chris and I, manfully accompanied by our friend and documentarian Alex Mayover, did indeed go to see all of the British films currently screening in London. Since then I’ve pretty much been running to stand still and haven’t had much time to really think about the experience further than that at the end of the eighth film my arse really really hurt. But now is not the time of year for deep thought. It’s always…

Right, I promise I am trying to be a more regular columnist here in Shooter space but the truth is that whilst for the past couple of months my filmmaking life has been too busy to give me time to write much down, now “Hallo Panda” is well and truly finished I’m struggling to find much to write about. Not least because in place of the bear is a large amount of, well, accountancy. Chris and I have two companies,…

It’s Sunday and it’s raining. Proper rain. The sort of rain I remember from childhood. People always say that when thinking back to their childhood the sun always seems to be shining, I generally remember rain. Long cold days with white skies and a persistent background crackle as the water bounces off the roof, the windows, or the sides of the car. It’s that sort of day now and I’m really having to fight hard not to pull my duvet…