Special Halloween Costume Guest Post

The Imaginary Reviewer has never been trick or treating in his life, as his father forbade him from taking part, claiming that it is “a form of begging”. In order to get into the spirit of the time, he has asked his 8-year-old nephew, Graham, to review some of the newest costumes for this year’s frightfest. Take it away, Graham!

Hello I am Graham and I am 8 and a half. Uncle Reviewer asked me to write about costumes and said if I didn’t then he wouldn’t give me any Xmas pressies so here I am.

This year I am going trick or treating as a vampwolf. If a werewolf bites a vampire on a full moon he turns into a vampwolf and can fly and that’s what I am on Halloween. I will have teeth and fur and go grrr and chase everyone. Gregory Simms says that vampwolfs don’t exist but I don’t believe what he says because he says he saw a baby come out of his sister but I don’t think her mouth is big enough to eat one whole so he’s a liar. When I am a vampwolf I will bite Gregory Simms and he will fall over and die.

Lots of people in my class are going out dressed as accordions. They’ve got buttons and make noise and everything. I don’t like accordions because they make a really horrible noise that sounds like the pigeon that Malcolm Beswick’s Dad ran over and wasn’t dead yet but Malcolm Beswick’s Dad got a spade out of the back of the car and hit it and it stopped making a noise and I saw its brains. That’s why I don’t want to dress up as an accordion. They sound like death.

One boy in my class is going out for Halloween as a Pea Salesman. He will dress up in green clothes and have a big metal tray full of peas. I told him that a pea salesman is not even a real thing but he said that his Mum said they used to have pea salesmen when she was a girl but I think she didn’t want to buy a real costume. She probably found the peas on the floor because his family is poor and they can’t afford to waste peas. This is a stupid costume and I hate it.

Another popular costume this year is Nobel Prize-winning economist Milton Friedman. I think this is the scariest costume of all because Milton Friedman’s wrinkled face and bald head remind me of the unstoppable march of time that will carry us all down the path of history towards the unexplained infinite blackness of death. Also I find Friedman’s economic policies to be highly flawed but Julie Blackbury says she is dressing up as Friedman because his policies were influential and beneficial. I told Julie Blackbury that tax lowering as a tool of stimulating economic growth is empirically proven to be less effective than increased government spending but she said that the Friedman-inspired Reaganomics of the 80s ultimately recovered the US from stagflation but I said that the country would have recovered anyway without Friedman’s statist and totalitarian views and that the 2007-8 economic crisis was a direct result of Friedman’s policies and then I put a worm in her hair and she ran away.

Graham’s regular entertainment column will be appearing in Now Toronto Magazine from November 3rd. The Imaginary Reviewer had to fix a lot of the spelling in this review, and so Graham will be getting a Christmas present as promised, but it will be rubbish.

My Wedding: Imaginary Reviewed!

As many of you know, I am finally no longer living in sin. Yes, I am now a husband in the eyes of both God and my wife, the two things I fear most in the world. Just kidding! I don’t believe in God.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. As I mentioned before I left, we got married in Hawaii, on the picturesque island of Maui, which lends itself to all sorts of wedding-related puns, none of which I will subject you to here.

The location of the wedding was absolutely perfect. Our setting was a beachfront plantation house with gorgeous views and all-you-can-drink seawater, and the ceremony itself was sheltered by tall, majestic palm trees. Only one guest was maimed by falling coconuts, and his family was treated to a complimentary deckchair.

As my bride and I stood there in front of our friends and family, we listened intently to our priest trying to make himself heard over the sound of the waves, the wind and our weeping bank manager. It was that point when I looked at all our happy guests, my beaming bride and the caterers setting up the tables for the reception, and a big, contented smile ran across my face. Yes, I thought. This is a truly wonderful day. This is a day that I will remember forever, a magnificent and auspicious day. For today I can reveal to my guests that while I told them that there is an open bar, it is actually a cash bar. They may think they’re getting free booze, but I’m not spending a penny on their alcoholism.

You should have seen their faces.

After the ceremony, Mrs. Imaginary Reviewer and I had our photos taken by our excellent photographer (whose thumb is so well-structured that we don’t mind its appearance in most of our shots. In fact, it’s an improvement on my face in many of them).

During the reception, we opened the floor to anyone who wished to make a speech under the strict condition that they did so while trying to avoid a barrage of crossbow fire that my wife and I sent their way from the head table. There was only one taker, and Great Aunt Helga should be commended for her excellent oration and impressive (but not impressive enough) ducking and weaving skills. She will be sadly missed.

Many of our guests informed us after the wedding that they enjoyed the food greatly. In fact, they almost enjoyed it as much when it came back up again, hours later.

Rather than have a DJ at our wedding, we decided to save money by having an iPod reception. We would recommend that anyone doing the same thing should get a dependable, responsible (and preferably sober) person to control the music. As it was, due to my Uncle Vigo’s inebriation and unfamiliarity with new technology, our first dance was to a medley of songs by Extreme Noise Terror and the first twelve seconds of The Macarena repeated sixteen times. The reception carried on mostly in this way, with interesting musical juxtapositions being created between disparate acts such as Alien Sex Fiend, Dolly Parton, Napalm Death and Falco.

After the wedding was over and the landowner had chased us all away with shotguns and dogs, my new bride and I retired to our condo, tired but happy. It was at this point that the marriage was consomméd. After adding a mixture of ground meats, egg whites and tomato to our marriage, we simmered it for a while and then filtered it. The result was not entirely what I was expecting, and I can’t really see what the big fuss is over marriage consommétion. I’m told it gets better with time, so I think Mrs Imaginary Reviewer and I should try again some time. It does make a mess of the bed, though.

So now we are back to the reality of Toronto, with the smog and the raccoons and the unending despair that comes with each day that Now Toronto refuses to respond to my daily begging letters. Thanks to everyone who has sent me congratulatory messages, normal Imaginary service should be resumed shortly!

I have returned

Hello loyal readers! I am back from my sojourns in the good old Kingdom of Unitedness! My liver is sore, I am in danger of having a Cornish Pasty overdose and my cor blimey guv'nor levels are off the charts. But what a great time I had!

Sadly, I have come back to a lot of work that has built up in my absence. Now Toronto Magazine, for example, have removed a lot of the offensive graffiti I put up on their building, which will have to be replaced. And, of course, I have a lot of things to review. But in the meantime, until my new ones are written, I thought I'd give everyone a chance to see one of my favourite old reviews, one that I wrote long before I had any readers. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my review of Hats!

New Hats, (September 2007)

Wow! There are so many new hats available this week that I had to review some of them! Huzzah for hats!

The first hat that I will review is a blue hat. It is about six inches tall with a furry bit on the top. The furry bit is slightly darker than the rest of the hat, which is lighter than the furry bit. The blue is a very nice colour. This hat is a nice hat!

Ooh! Next I've seen a small hat. I don't like the small hat. It won't fit on my head! Why is this hat so small? What were they thinking? Stupid hat. Too small.

Round red hat: The round red hat looks funny, so I like wearing it. It has a lovely tassle on the top for swinging the hat around your head. The round red hat with tassle can be thrown at cars, donkeys or clouds. Hat!

My favourite hat of the week is the Woolen hat. The woolen hat is very warm in winter, and makes for a lovely centrepiece in summer. You could use it as a teacosy! Woolen hats are good for the environment because removing wool prevents sheep from getting too big and taking up all the fields. Woolen hats save the planet! (Earth)

Today I saw a man wearing a Baseball cap with a funny slogan on it. I can't remember the slogan but it made me smile and forget all the bad things that have happened to me recently, like the dog that gave me a funny look and the earth-shattering despair that has grabbed hold of my soul and is squeezing the life out of me. The cap was, therefore, my favouritest cap ever, since the woolen hat, which I already said was my favourite.

Helmet.

Heavy Metal Music Round-up

Heavy metal music is the best kind of music to listen to when you’re annoyed. When I’ve been standing outside the Now Toronto Magazine offices with my “Gizzajob You Bastards” placard for eight hours with no acknowledgement from the titwanks inside, there’s nothing I like more than listening to some Slayer or Angry Nun at high volume. Whether it’s Napalm Death, Brickshitter or Deadbolt Sandwich, the world of metal is a breeding ground for talent and innovation. Here’s my roundup of the latest grointhrust noisefests.

First off, there’s the long-awaited second album by Cause of Death: Seagull. Entitled Really Grotesque Pictures of Guts, it’s a solid successor to their highly acclaimed debut, Shocking Attitude towards Organised Religion. From the first throatyelp of the opening song, ‘I am in your Teabag’ to the final drum roll of ‘Lambast Memorial’, this is a good set of memorable songs. The only downside to the album is the fourth track, which consists of four minutes of gurgling, but other than that, Cause of Death: Seagull have released something to be proud of.

Cyanide Lollipop are a hot new band from New Jersey, in the good old You Ess of A. I hear that their live shows are amazing, which makes their disappointing debut, Soulchomp Gluttony all the more sad. I’ve often said that there are too many pan pipes and glockenspiels in modern metal, and CL have fallen into the trap of turning these instruments up to 11 to cover their awful lyrics and tepid guitar solos.

Several months after releasing last year’s Eat My Lymph, Gruntfuck Episode’s lead songwriter Andrew Brentwood expressed dissatisfaction with the finished product. He claimed that every instance of the A minor chord on the album should have actually been a G suspended seventh, and the band have now re-recorded the album to these specifications. I’ll be honest, it sounds a bit shit.

My favourite of the recent releases is Marrrrgggghhhaaaaaarrrrghghghgghh by Finnish death-metallers Embryo Soup. First it’s got these great basslines that go dunduggadundun, and then he starts singing like this: “Raaaaaawwwwwwkkkkkk! Raaaaaaaallllllll! Grrrr!” and then the guitars go chugggachuggawawa and then my neighbours complained and I had to turn it down.

Finally, The Ian Malcolm Pants Explosion’s latest album, Wasp Factory Explosion, is so loud that it’s impossible to hear with human ears. For this reason, each copy comes with a free pair of animal ears (installation required). I wasn’t able to get my new ears grafted onto my head in time for this review, but I’m told by other people who have heard it that it’s not worth the agony.

The Imaginary Reviewer is not responsible for any hearing damage sustained while listening to heavy metal music. He is responsible for any hearing damage sustained while he punches you in the head.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter, Part the Sixth

For some of my newer readers, the hatred and anger I occasionally show to Now Magazine may be confusing. What do I have against Toronto's largest and most revered listings publication? Why do I write mean things about them - such as the fact that everyone who works for them smells of poo and hates freedom - on my blog?

Well, click on the links to the right, entitled "The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter" Parts 1 to 4, and you shall see why. I wrote several letters of extraordinary quality to that very journal early last year, asking them for a reviewing job, and they did not have the decency to send a single reply. Part 5 of that series showed me receiving similar treatment at the hands of Toronto's second listings magazine, Eye Weekly.

Well, screw them. Screw them hard in the bum.

Now Magazine had their chance. They could have hired me to write reviews for them, and they would have been inundated with fan mail and increased ad revenue, but no. Now I wouldn't even write a review for them if they begged me to. I have set my sights higher, far, far away from the Papist dogs of Toronto's awful magazine. I have set my sights on something much better: Vancouver's Georgia Straight listings magazine.

The letter reproduced below was sent to the editor of the Georgia Straight several weeks ago. As it had to travel from one side to the other of the second largest country in the world, I am not surprised that I am still yet to hear back from them, and I remain confident that an offer of long-term employment will be soon forthcoming.

As usual, click on the small image for a far more readable version.

Imaginary Crossword Puzzle Review

As a former member of mensa and card-carrying intellectual (the card has nothing to do with being an intellectual, I just carry it around. It has a picture of a kitten on it), I love puzzles. Sudoku? Never been beaten. Samurai Sudoku? Pah! Stupidly Simple Sudoku, more like! Logic problems? I laugh at them and then steal their girlfriends. Yes, puzzles are class.

And so, I was overcome with excitement when I learned that Dagobar Willis, quite possibly the greatest crossword puzzle compiler in the history of cruciverbalism, had created a new crossword. This 106-clue grid, his first in nearly seven years, was going to be more than just a puzzle; it would be an event.

Imagine the anticipation in my trousers when I sat down to enjoy this momentous problem. It was immense. I was not let down, either, with an excellent clue at 1-across: “Bird of Prey (5)”. A true Dagobar clue, if ever there was one! Look at the succinctness, the brevity, the sheer joy in those three words! If he carried on like this, I thought, this would be one of the greatest puzzles in the history of puzzles!

But, I’m sorry to say, my breathless exhilaration had subsided by the time I came to 23-across. The clues that followed the first were all more moribund and lacklustre than the previous. And then 23-across itself – “Mental case? (5)” – was the epitome of predictability and, therefore, disappointment. Where was the love? Where was the Joie de Vivre that permeated Dagobar’s classic clues, such as his famed 46-down from the crossword in the November 17th, 1992 New York Times (“Minelli of Cabaret, (4)”)? None of it seemed to be here.

Sadness welled in my heart as I continued to complete the crossword. Had Dagobar lost his amazing ability in these years of enforced hermitage in the sewers of Paris? Was this the swansong of a tragic, once-great clue compiler? Sure, it was possible to see signs of greatness in some of his clues (like 36 down: “Baby goose (7)”), but I was moved to think of the sad demise of the Rolling Stones, whose albums since the early 80s have all been shadows of the band’s former glory. A good song here and there, maybe a great one every few years, and like Jagger et al, Willis seemed to have fallen into mediocrity.

I am sad to say that things did not improve as I came closer and closer to finishing the crossword. I hoped that with each filled-in answer I would unearth some beautiful ideal clue, hoping against hope that Willis was testing his true fans to see if they would persevere. But no, the crossword got worse and worse, and my own mood matched it, such was my disappointment at this wasted opportunity, this travesty, this former genius spitting at his own memory like a blind man spitting at his own seeing-eye dog.

It is with great guilt that I admit to giving in to my anger and deliberately filling in swear words at the final few clues instead of the intended answers. “Fruit (4)” became ‘Arse’, while one five-letter answer became a string of profanity so long that I had to write letters about a millimetre in height to fit them all in the spaces. I can no longer read them, nor remember what they said, which is probably a good thing because if I reprinted the filth here, I could be condemned by the Pope as immoral.

In summary, then, this crossword was “Something flushed down a toilet or wiped off one’s arse (4)".

Dagobar Willis’s new crossword can be found inside all good publications, and some bad ones, like the Ottawa Citizen and Now Toronto Magazine. Answers will appear in the next issue. Due to a printing error, tomorrow's New York Times crossword will be full of sand.

2008: The Year in (Imaginary) Review

I am back from my two-week trip to the Canadian Conference for Critics of the Counterfeit in Victoria, BC. The organisers, praise be to them, asked me to present a paper on a subject of my choosing, which I did. Gossamer Rain: Ideas for a new Culture of the Imaginary and why Now Toronto Magazine Can Eat my Shit was very well received by all present.

But now I am somewhat behind with my end of year lists. I shall do my best to remedy this accordingly, and so now I give you my (imaginary) review of the year 2008.

Oddly, 2008 began in February, with most nations incorporating January into the previous year, having decided at the end of December that they hadn’t finished with 2007 yet. This led to some problems, but also benefits to those born in January, as they discovered that they remained the same age as before.

After a wave of shootings in the US, lawmakers attempted to stem the flow of dead bodies by passing some historic legislation in March. While it’s too early to assess its effectiveness, Republican senators claim that the law, which effectively bans being murdered, is working. “Now that being shot to death is punishable by a five year jail term, people are being much more careful,” said a government spokesperson. An NRA member added, “Guns aren’t the problem. Dead people are the problem.”

As always, celebrities were in the headlines a lot in 2008. Bjork made the news in June when she gave birth to a koala bear, but nobody was really surprised. Celebrity marriages were also big news, with Cap’n Crunch’s wedding to supermodel Verdala causing the biggest tabloid sensation.

The highest-selling song of the year, I Can’t Feel my Legs by DJ Park and MC Ride, was shite.

Not a lot happened in the world of sport in 2008, despite everyone’s best intentions. The International Sporting Federation of Sports caused a bit of a stir in October when they released their list of the manliest sports in existence. Australian Rules football came in as most manly, with Ice Hockey second and Javelin third. Other notable entries included Motorsports (11th), Women’s Rugby (15th), Field Hockey (37th) and American Football (122nd).

Notable deaths last year included UK politician Dwayne Denzil (auto-erotic asphyxiation), child actor ‘Little’ Jimmy Cruikshanks (old age) and singer Cher (choked on a Toblerone). Notable births included Sylvia Dahl, who will front a popular rock band in the year 2034, and Ian Douglas, the antichrist who will bring about the end of the world and the Great Suffering in 2017.

That was 2008. How will 2009 compare? My prediction is that 2009 will have more raining fish, fewer leper attacks and the same worldwide sass index score (8) as 2008.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter, Part 5

Loyal readers will remember my attempts to secure employment at Now Toronto Magazine, an ultimately futile endeavour given the fact that everyone working for that Godforsaken rag is a complete tit. For those of you unfamiliar with that Sissyphean quest, see the links on the right of the screen for parts 1 to 4.

My disappointment at Now Toronto Magazine's utter shiteness has subsided, and I have affixed my gaze on one of Now's competitors in the world of free weekly listings magazines based in Toronto: Eye Weekly. I have sent out a very nice letter, which I reproduce below. Please keep your fingers crossed for me, I need to eat and soon.

(Clicky = biggy)

Horoscopes

In my honest, yet immaculately-attired opinion, horoscope columns are a load of bunk, just like any other astrological pagan nonsense. The only star that has any bearing on my life is our own yellow Sun, which grants me my Superman-of-Reviewing powers and wakes me up when it’s time for elevenses. As far as I’m concerned, having Saturn in my ascendance isn’t going to affect the number of rejection letters I get from national publications, or whether people know what I mean when I use the word ‘elevenses’. But I wouldn’t be the Imaginary Reviewer if I didn’t investigate things with strict impartiality, so I will put all these feelings to one side when I conduct this comparative review of different horoscopes.

I chose several journals at random and noted down the horoscopes that lay within them. This approach rendered paying for the magazines unnecessary, and meant that I didn’t have to spend any time in the library, which smells of old people. I then compared the horoscopes with the actual events that occurred in that week. Here are my results.

Firstly, the horoscopes in The Weekly Panflute were nothing short of awful. Mine read (and I quote): “Beware of strangers bearing gifts this week, as they will all turn out to be false. An encounter with an old friend will reap big rewards in your love life.”

So, firstly, the comment about “all” the strangers bearing gifts was flawed, as only one hitherto-unknown person offered me anything. It was a man outside a bakery who was giving away small pieces of pie. Monty, the Imaginary Son, took one (his horoscope said nothing about gifts), and told me it was a highly delicious pastry. Chalk one failure to the bastard horoscope writer, who cost me a piece of pie.

The second part of the Panflute’s horoscope – “An encounter with an old friend will reap big rewards in your love life” - is not one I want to go into (and even if I wanted to, I am forbidden to do so by law). However, I will say this: If by “Big rewards in [my] love life”, the writer meant “divorce proceedings”, then it was accurate. Otherwise, nada.

Now Toronto Magazine’s horoscope looks like this: “Duh duh duh. I’m a Now Toronto writer. Duh Duh Duh. I can’t write. Duh duh duh. I smell.”

Another magazine with an inaccurate horoscope prediction was the Ontario Sentinel (incorporating the Ontario Mallard). Their prognostication was that all Aquarians (such as myself) would encounter a Level 10 warlock king with 2300 hit points, high resistance to elemental fire attacks and a weakness to lightning attacks. Suffice to say, the only creature from a forbidden realm that I met this week was Dandrax, a fifth-level elfin priest. I had to resort to using my Blade of Advancement (+5 to Power, +10 to Stamina, -5 to Sass), and cursed the horoscope throughout the battle. Ontario Sentinel: You fail.

One of the horoscope columns was quite accurate, I have to admit. It appeared in Canadian Dullard. I was told the following: “Today you will read a horoscope page. As Jupiter is in Sagittarius, I predict a lunch for you. An unexpected event will occur at some point. If your birthday is this week: There could be a party on the horizon.”

I can’t believe how accurate this horoscope was. It’s like it was tailored for me. Canadian Dullard’s horoscope writer Psychic Steve scores many points for his brilliant predictions.

Finally, What Fishtank? Magazine’s horoscope page was highly interesting, but I could give it no points for accuracy. However, it was only later that I realised I had copied out the magazine’s contents page by accident, so it was no wonder that it was so astrologically unsatisfying.

Special 100th Review Spectacular: The Imaginary Reviewed on DVD

When The Imaginary Review started last year, one of our early fans was Nigel Worthington-Rhys, a documentary film-maker from Wales. He realised soon after the first review that this was going to be huge, a massively successful project that would unite and polarise vast swathes of the planet, and he wanted to be a part of the staggering critical behemoth before everyone joined the bandwagon.

Since that first review was printed, Worthington-Rhys has followed up on the subjects of each entry, interviewing them and following their post-IR successes with the help of a video camera. With the 100th Imaginary Review now published, Worthington-Rhys has edited the footage and released it as a documentary entitled The Imaginary Reviewed. Narrated by the film-maker himself, it makes for some very interesting viewing.

The subjects of the film are covered more or less chronologically, beginning with the first reviewee. Winwood Augary, author of The Climes of Despair (a book he translated from Greek into English despite not speaking a word of the former language), is given this honour. Augary is interviewed briefly from the mental institution in which he now resides, which makes for sad viewing from the onset. He appears to be unaware of his place in history as the subject of the first Imaginary Review, and the mention of the book that rendered him insane causes him to break down violently. The story is left to his publisher, Derek Shatner, who claims that the book’s appearance on The Imaginary Review meant that it sold more than the anticipated zero copies. When asked by Worthington-Rhys how many of the books were purchased, Shatner responds, “at least three!”

The effect of an Imaginary Review is a common theme throughout the documentary, and many of the people featured here are thankful for the level of recognition that the website gave them. Even a mostly negative review could have positive results, as witnessed by artist Gustav Chichester, whose Timpani Suicide installation was described as “drama-less tat” by The Imaginary Reviewer. He claims that his exhibition showed a 33% rise in visitors after the review, but adds that this could be because the days following the review’s publication were very rainy.

Worthington-Rhys’s love of The Imaginary Review is highly apparent through The Imaginary Reviewed. In some of the interviews, it is as if the camera is lovingly caressing the people onscreen, such is the bold light in which they are filmed. In the case of the Cheeky Girls (whose Cheeky Manifesto was reviewed last August), Worthington-Rhys is actually caressing them with the camera, which unfortunately does make for some awkward viewing.

For me, the best part of the documentary is the “Where are they now?” aspect. I was highly pleased to find out that the SwampAid music festival in Annifridagnethaville gained so much publicity from our Imaginary Review that this year’s concert will be headlined by U2, Coldplay, The Rolling Stones (playing with the remaining Beatles), Radiohead and God (who will be joined by President Bongo and the Democratic Republic of Phonque).

In the documentary we also discover that Dave’s Uncle Ted (also reviewed last July), was so touched by his generally positive review that he swore off the booze after reading it. He hasn’t been incarcerated since.

Evil Blood II: The Hurtening, was such a box-office smash that several sequels are already in the works; a similar thing is true for The Golden Rump Ass, reviewed earlier this year. In the four weeks since the critique was printed, six sequels have been released, including The Golden Rump-Ass 4: The Rumpening and The Golden Rump-Ass 5: Rump-Asses Gone Wild.

But not all Imaginary Reviews have led to success stories. Garrulous Industries, makers of the Tring 32X, went bankrupt shortly after it was released. All machines had to be recalled after they were proved to cause dwarfism. Gunchen Maladroit, the photographer whose A Life in Frame retrospective was reviewed last October, was investigated by the police after the show contained photographs of a picnic table that were deemed pornographic. He is now in hiding and only agreed to appear in the film if his face was obscured by a large balloon.

Nigel Worthington-Rhys’s narration on the documentary is superb. He knows his subjects inside and out, having spent an inordinate amount of time on research. “Before I read the Imaginary Review of the Nokia 22-20 Gunphone,” he says in the voice-over, “I had no idea it existed. Thanks to The Imaginary Review I know it’s not an excellent mugger deterrent, a view that I put to the machine’s developers in Finland.”

Some time is dedicated to the things listed in The Imaginary Review’s various end of year reviews, and the people behind the top-ranked albums, films, colours and comics are all questioned about their opinions on the website. Mostly none have heard of it, despite their accolades at The Imaginary Reviewer’s hands.

I can’t recommend this documentary enough for the many, many loyal Imaginary Review fans out there. Anyone who wants to know how successful Freedom 2008 by The Right Trema was (and why he was dropped by his record company) should watch it. Likewise, anyone who wants to see whether Men at Work - the wonderful art exhibit - was finished on schedule and under budget, and how much a two bedroom apartment inside it now costs, should get a copy.

The Imaginary Reviewed will certainly be a strong contender for Best Documentary at next year’s Oscars, a fitting tribute to Nigel, as well as the stars of his film, including the many people featured in it who are sadly no longer with us and to whom the film is dedicated. These include Wayne Carroll (who choked on his own vomit shortly after his Complete Drunken Text Message Poetry Collection was released), Ted the Unknown Species (who caught the very un-pet-like Dutch Elm Disease) and Jerry the dead zookeeper, who is currently being sued for traumatising the children at his presentation this month.

Gosh, that was fun, wasn’t it? Here’s to the next 100 reviews! Maybe Now Toronto will have hired me by then!

Now Toronto Magazine Respond!

My regular readers will be familiar with my attempts to secure employment with Now Toronto Magazine and my inexplicable lack of success therein. Even after four letters to four different staff members on the publication, I have heard nothing from the esteemed halls of Toronto’s largest source of dominatrix shemale small-ads.

Despondency crept into my bones, and I started bemoaning my lot. “I feel so rejected,” I thought. “If only I had a way of getting back at Now Toronto. If only I had a means of ridiculing them in some public forum. Possibly in the form of a sarcastic review.”

Then – miracle! Now Toronto replied to my letters, with a personal letter! “Huzzah!” thought I, “I have something to review!”

And so I set about analysing the contents of the epistle. Firstly, I was surprised by the presentation of the letter. From my time working in the offices of large companies, I am accustomed to sending and receiving letters written using a word processing package and printed out on headed notepaper. It was with some surprise, then, that I found Now Toronto’s reply written using crayon on a piece of thick blue paper.

The content of the letter was very interesting. The author of the missive (who omitted to attached their name to the letter, such was their modesty), has an amazing vocabulary, as many unknown words have been included in the letter. There were so many words I didn’t understand that I had to consult a dictionary for assistance. When the words did not appear in my Oxford English Dictionary, I looked for the words in various online foreign-language dictionaries, and remained unable to decipher many of them. Words like ‘Becoz’, ‘Pleez’ and ‘magaseen’ escaped any attempt at translation; such words could only be the work on an intellectual, and I was forced to abandon my attempts to understand them.

(Incidentally, it was quite lucky that the letter even reached me, given that my address on the envelope was misspelt in several places and my name was obscured by what appeared to be caked-on pasta sauce.)

As a result of my difficulty with some of the obscure words used by the letter’s writer, I am sad to say that much of the meaning seems to have passed me by. I gather that they are thanking me for my enquiries into reviewing for Now Toronto Magazine; but given that one of the paragraphs is halted abruptly, mid-sentence, so that the writer could draw a doodle of a flower and a bee, I must confess that I cannot state with any certainty what overall meaning the letter is trying to convey.

In summary: Of all the letters I have ever received, from the ‘Cease and Desist’ orders from the estate of Jorge Luis Borges to the gallons of fan mail I get each week, I have to say that my reply from Now Toronto is one of the weakest. I understand that they must be busy writing reviews of new Japanese restaurants and sweaters, but I think their writing staff needs to make more of an effort with correspondence.

Oh, and the letter smells of poo.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter: Part 4

Regular readers of The Imaginary Review will remember my previous attempts to secure employment at Now Toronto Magazine, the foremost listings and reviewing entertainment-type publication in Canada's largest city. They will recall how utterly superb these letters were, full of correctly-spelled words and subtle threats. They will also remain bemused as to my total lack of success; not only have I failed to receive a contract for a high-paying reviewing job, but I have also failed to receive acknowledgement of any kind.

It occurred to me, therefore, that the good people of Now Toronto must get letters like this all the time! They're the best, and it should be no surprise that every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to pen their analyses of soon-to-be-released movies and CDs.

I therefore decided to go all out. My one, final throw of the dice. A letter so brilliant, so completely erudite, so gargantuanly splendid, that two pages were not enough to contain the superlative sentences and 100% correct verb conjugation. A letter so fantastic that only the celebrity presence of Yogi Bear could carry it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: My Fourth Letter to Now Toronto Magazine. Warning: Clicking the picture below to enable legibility may give you an overwhelming desire to offer me employment, whether you are in a position to do so or not.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter: Part 3

When I - unfathomably - failed to receive a reply to either of the two letters I sent to Now Toronto Magazine, I considered giving up. Every morning I would go downstairs to the mailbox, checking to see if the good people at Toronto's premiere listings magazine had responded. Once I had found nothing in my own letter box, I forced open my neighbours' letter boxes and found nothing but birthday cards, cheques and medical results, all of which I kept for sentimental reasons. I then started ambushing the mailman each morning, and was eventually forced to lock him up in my basement until he revealed the location of my mail. He was most uncooperative, but no matter. He is with God now.

And so, all this rejection started weighing heavily on my mind. What if the good people at the magazine were not interested in my services? What if they hadn't enjoyed my reviews? What if I wasn't good enough? What if I sucked?

I quickly came round from this delusional state, and realised that both of my previous letters must have been undelivered, due to the problems inherent in Canada's postal service (not least their shortage of delivery persons, caused by a spate of mailman abductions in my area). I wrote another letter, addressing it to another member of the Now Toronto staff, and made sure I used my best handwriting on the address. I will not be deterred!

As before, if you click it, it will be legible.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter: Part 2

Last week I posted a letter that I had sent to the entertainment editor of Now Toronto magazine, asking her if the publication needed someone to write some reviews for them. Several weeks later, the letter still has not been replied to, a development that I find somewhat odd, given the quality of the epistle and the fact that I recently acquired a new printer.

So it occurred to me that my strategy had been all wrong. The entertainment editor of Now Toronto was probably the wrong person to contact. How busy she must be! Toronto is a large place and entertainment is on practically every corner! Indeed, I know of some corners where entertainment is available in pairs and even threesomes (Dutch is extra, however). With all that entertainment on offer, simply selecting what entertainment to review must take up a lot of her time! She can't be expected to respond to every single urchin who comes begging at her door! So, I decided, maybe I was setting my sights too high.

For this reason, then, I wrote a second letter to Now Toronto magazine, for the attention of their Senior Music Writer. And to make sure I was not ignored again, I added a diagram. I imagine the brilliance of my letter must have knocked the gentleman in question out of his seat, making him bang his head on a desk and forcing him to take several weeks off work to recover, as I am still awaiting a reply.

As before, click on the image to embiggenify.

The Imaginary Reviewer Writes a Letter: Part 1

If you're one of those people who enjoy reading the blurb to the right of the posts on The Imaginary Review, you'll know that I would ideally love to be reviewing things that actually exist. My love of reviewing things is so great that I'm content to write these reviews of non-existing objects, but I would be overjoyed if some magazine/journal/newspaper/whatever were to employ me for the sole purpose of applying my critical eye to things that are both real and not at all imaginary.

With this in mind, I have decided to take the bull by the horns and whore myself out to some local publications. Below is the first letter that I sent to the entertainment editor of our local entertainment newspaper, Now Toronto. The letter was sent more than two weeks ago, and I am yet to hear from them; presumably they're still counting all the money that they wish to offer me in exchange for writing their reviews.

Click on the pic to make it big and readable.