"Thursday night. Antelope mask. Red wine&quot

With no films to see until five in the evening there was an attempt to do useful things with the earlier portions of the day. Firstly, we popped out for a nice breakfast after failing to do so at any point during the rest of the week. Secondly, there's been a pile of used bits of wood sitting in the hallway for (in places) anything up to eight years which Nicky sorted through the other day to select bits she thought might be useful for an allotment and which we took down there just in case they acted as sufficient bait for someone to break into the car to steal them. When we got there it appeared that someone had blundered into the fence next to the path so I fixed that with the limited fixing-apparata available whilst Nicky watered things and inspected the fruit bushes. Thirdly, the newly-relatively-robust kitchen walls still have some blank space on them so we went to the Ratten-shop to get something for one of the spaces as the target glass-based shelf for the smaller space looked like it would rattle irritatingly when our upstairs neighbour's washing machine was running with the added risk that the target shelf-stock of spare glasses might be persuaded by persistent strong vibration to walk off the shelf and smash on the floor (as creating a lip on the shelf was deemed an unacceptable workaround). When home there was time to prepare the wall for fitting the shelf (but not to fit it as it looked like there might be some wires behind the joist to negociate with) and attach the various bits of the shelf together but not enough to get round to fitting it before heading off.

Unmade Beds was a nice slowish little indie people-interaction life-intersection thing (including the daughter from The First Day of the Rest of Your Life (Monday) and a bloke who looked like a cross between Damon Albarn and Alex James). Mildly trite in places but pleasingly-shot and nicely-soundtracked, though the way some of the scenes in clubs were put together make you wince for the fictional characters' ears.

After that, the first truly absolutely shite film: Running In Traffic is to be avoided at all costs. It looks like it was scripted by the cast of Neighbours and filmed by the cast of River City. In a badly-written, badly-acted, badly-lit, badly-directed scene you think it can't get any worse until the appallingly shit music crashes in, synthetically. It's even worse than the few ITV dramas I've been unfortunate enough to be in the same room as. It's possibly what a Channel 5 made-for-TV drama would be like if such things exist. Horrifyingly bad. About twenty minutes in I stopped minding the rustling of the crisp packet ten feet away when it became apparent just how shit the rest of the film was going to be. Even at the very very end (which should have been an occasion for rejoicing) they spoiled it for us by waiting just a bit too long to start rolling the credits after cutting to black - the delay was just long and portentous enough to make me start thinking that maybe there was going to be more shitfilm (despite the extremely clumsily obvious way in which the last scene was indicated to be the last scene) which considerably reduced the relief felt at thinking it to be ended. Scottish blip-viewers may be more at risk as it was set and filmed in Glasgow but the rest of the world should hopefully be safe.