Back in Hong Kong at last

The plane back to Hong Kong seemed filled with children, who were all noisy at embarkation but thankfully docile throughout the flight. Or perhaps my noise cancelling headphones are much better than I thought. Or everyone has been dosing their kids with strong medication.

Whatever the reason, it was a placid flight back; I failed to get more than a couple of hours sleep, but with a flight like this it's a matter of staying awake until tonight to try to defy jetlag. I watched a lot of films: Paul, Animal Kingdom (whose plot seemed vaguely incomprehensible, which may be an edit for airlines, or fatigue, or somebody slipping me the anti-kiddy meds), the entire 7th season of Peep Show and Drive Angry, which I really regretted. We don't really need films where Nicolas Cage's receding hairline escapes from hell just to wreak havoc with a shotgun and a Dodge Charger, do we? Especially not when it steals the sex-scene-with-a-gunfight from Shoot 'Em Up, the hellishness from Constantine, the awful plotlessness from [any recent Nicolas Cage vehicle].

Come to think of it, it's like bad money drives out good: any film where Nicolas Cage is terrible is a film which ends up being just a film where Nicolas Cage is terrible: all redeeming qualities are expunged in the process.

Not that I think a man with a scythe dying in 3D is much of a redeeming quality, mind.

We got home around 4 today, courtesy of a cheery taxi driver who kept insisting everything in Hong Kong is worse than it used to be, discovered we'd gained an untenable amount of weight in the last 4 weeks, then accidentally passed out for five hours. Now, to avoid jet lag, we're going to crank up Hobo With A Shotgun and then collapse once more.