Instead of documenting Hitler's demise, wouldn't it have been better to make a film about the greatest board game ever made? It is my understanding that "Downfall" is a very good film as it stands, but I can't help wondering if perhaps a feature length film of two people facing off against each other in a game of "Downfall" would be more entertaining. I suppose you could also call it "Face Off" too, but I don't think they'd be able to convince Travolta and Cage to appear in it. I reckon a more likely cast would involve ex-Blue Peter presenter Tim Vincent in the role of the prodigious semi-blind priest, and the perenially typecast Danny Dyer playing a black German U-Boat commander.

So Steven Paul Allen has written about his old bike. Here is a bicycle related story from me, I call it "Pavement Pandemonium":

Pavement Pandemonium

We're going years back here, probably 12 years or more. I would have been 12. I used to go round to my mate Jack's house in Chipstead every so often, we'd hang out, I'd stay over maybe, and we'd do whatever it is that 12-year-olds do. Or maybe whatever it was that 12-year-olds used to do before knife crime was invented.

So this one time, I was round at Jack's, and we were riding our bikes up and down his road. He lived on something of a slope, nothing too harsh and unforgiving, but still it was a slope. I had already decided to try to break the sound barrier by pedalling with all my strength down the pavement. This was my quest.

So I cycled to the top of the road, prepared myself with a few deep breaths, then set off down the road at full tilt. As I screamed past Jack's house, I threw him a glance and shouted in exaltation. Unfortunately, in the process, I did not notice his next door neighbour exiting through his front gate laden with heavy boxes to deposit in his car. He didn't stand a chance. I plowed into him at top speed, sending him flying into the bush and me into his car. My face connected with the windscreen, but the inertia carried me further down the street. I ended up in a bloodied, crumpled heap, the bycicle coming to rest atop me. I composed myself and cycled off before the neighbour had a chance to catch me.

Flame On

Another funny thing that happened was when I stayed over at Jack's after a party, along with this weird kid called Stuart Birchwood. We were sitting by the pond in Jack's garden, where a couple of lanterns were still alight from the previous evening. Jack and I were talking away, while Stuart occupied himself with fire. I told you he was weird.

We paid little attention to what weird Stuart was doing, he appeared to be coating twigs in molten wax and setting fire to them. He must have progressed from this to setting fire to flowers and small bushels, because in the blink of an eye he had set fire to this bloody great fir tree. Now, these two fir trees were prized possessions to the family, so it was not ideal that Stuart had set fire to one of them. I ran indoors and called 999 to order a fire engine. They arrived rather quickly and set about putting the blaze out. The whole bloody thing had gone up like a tinderbox, engulfed in a matter of seconds. There wasn't much for the firemen to do.

By the time the blaze had settled, there was nothing left. The tree was completely vanquished. The best part was when Jack's father returned home to find one of his beloved trees decimated. He actually cried, it was well funny.