I always wanted to write a romantic comedy called Godzilla in Love which would feature Godzilla (metaphor for the nuclear bomb and large Japanese monster famous for smashing up Tokyo and being played by men in rubber suits) falling in love with the girl of his dreams, only to be thwarted by the massive differences in scales, Godzilla’s lack of observable genitalia and the fact he fell in love with a vegan while Godzilla would do anything for love, but he’d not give up eating buildings full of meaty people.
Sadly it never developed beyond this initial idea and I don’t think anyone barring myself would want to watch a film where a foppish Hugh Grant-esque radioactive monster sings Partridge Family songs to the girl of his dreams while raining down radioactive fire on Notting Hill. Though radioactive fire raining down on Notting Hill might at least cull the media class down a notch or two.
This all comes to mind as today is Valentine’s Day; the one day where men of all ages fight to the death in Lidl trying to get the last bunch of lilting lilies for their partner. You’ve not lived til you’ve seen someone beaten to death with a Findus roast beef frozen dinner for two and a bottle of £0.99 cava, and today is the day where dreams are barely lived up to and card manufacturers end up choking to death on Everest-sized piles of cocaine.
So today cast a thought for all those Godzilla’s out there with their city smashing antics and lack of discernable genitalia.They need love too. Perhaps one day I’ll get my shit together and write about it?