Well it has inspired a hilarious mockumentary set in Middlesbrough .
Teesside writer and director James Harris, 48, from Linthorpe , was intrigued by the personal stories of triumph and tragedy captured on the streets of New York and thought it would make a good format for some Boro-based comedy.
Huge thanks to Tees Valley Screen, Northern Film + Media and the BFI Network for funding this stupid film about Middlesbrough I wrote and directed. Here’s what filming it looked like. Pics by Jay Moussa-Mann.
As it’s moon week (apparently), we should all remember the first UK moon mission, via the medium of this short film I made earlier (feels like yesterday. Wasn’t.). It’s a dramatisation of real events, like First Man or Hidden Figures, only shorter and with less historical liberties.
Sometimes when walking alone at night you may find yourself haunted by this persistent apparition, which will trudge alongside you sighing loudly, openly tutting, rolling its eyes and shaking its head sadly/angrily.
When it all gets to be too much, and you finally snap and ask “What’s wrong with you?” or “Are you all right?” the creature will only ever answer “I’m fine.”
Because it’s fine. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? I’M FINE, OK? OK.
Every time somebody misspells “Cthulhu” on the internet, they get closer to completing the incantation which will call that monstrous entity’s slightly less impressive, differently-spelled cousin to this Earthly realm.
Cuthuthluth is damp, five foot two, and smells of seaweed and desperation. Unlike his Great and Old cosmic cousin, he is not covered in tentacles. That’s not what those are.
Occasionally you will wake up and find that a Huge Hairy Hassle has broken into your home and sat himself down somewhere, perhaps the living room, possibly the kitchen. He’ll sit there, emitting low-pitched rumbly groaning noises and taking up valuable space.
You can get rid of a Huge Hairy Hassle, but it’s a bit of a pain. You have to obtain various ingredients, combine them in the right kind of pot, recite a particular spell at precisely the right time of night, when the moon’s position in the sky is just so etc etc. You know, it’s doable, but it’s a lot of bother, frankly.
By the time they die, most people will have accumulated three or four Huge Hairy Hassles lolling about their house, emitting low-pitched rumbly groaning noises and taking up valuable space, that they’ve just kind of got used to.