Apostrophe Catastrophe

Now, anyone with a fundamental understandment of grammar gets irritated by the misuse of apostrophes. Not so much in e-mails and the more informal methods of communication - Christ, let's not be Nazis about it - but incorrect signs and newspaper headlines tend to bring about incredulous tutting and shakings of the head.

Yet there is a new apostrophe menace in town. I've noticed it spreading like some kind of disease, over the last year or so.

The use of apostrophes for emphasis.

Have you seen it? When people 'really' want to emphasise a word, they use apostrophes instead of underlining, italicising or putting asterisks before and after it. It's thoroughly mental.

Today, I saw the very zenith of apostrophe-for-emphasis crime. A magazine, on a shop shelf, with the following cover line:

'MASSIVE' REVIEW SECTION!

It was simultaneously terrible and hilarious to see a magazine unwittingly taking the piss out of itself.

I've quite simply had 'enough' of this damn-fool craze. Do you hear me? 'Do you'?

PS I deliberately used a non-existent word in this post. It started off as a typo, but when I came to correct it, I found I liked it. What fun.

Childishness Ahoy

I just received an e-mail from a Dr John Plainville, approaching me with a remarkable business opportunity. He needs to transfer 10 million dollars into my account.

"I will not fail to inform you," the good doctor tells me, "that this transaction is 100% risk free. On smooth conclusion of this transaction, you will be entitled to 40% of the total sum as gratification, while 60% will be for me."

Four million dollars! That's incredible. So I wrote back to Dr Plainville (whose e-mail address is john.plainville@hotmail.com, in case any spammers need a new address to send stuff to) thusly:

Dear John,

Thank you so much for coming to me with this opportunity!

I'd be delighted to take part - who could refuse four million dollars, after all? Where do we start? What do we do next?

Oh no, hold on, wait a minute. I've changed my mind. I'm funny like that. So go fuck yourself, you utter cunt.

Best wishes,

J

Yes, I know, it's childish, and replying to spammers begets more spam. But it made me laugh. Laughter's good, no?

Shooting People

I can't get enough of guns in movies. The bigger and more powerful the better, riddling people with lead in slow-mo blood-squib explosions. Blowing people's heads open and generally mucking them about. Tremendous.


... but today I got some of your actual guns in my mitts for the first time ever, and it's a whole different kettle of bullets. The bizarre reality of these babies really sinks home, from the moment you feel one's weight, to the moment you fire and feel the explosion impact on your skeleton.


Of course, I'm not going to deny it was thrilling and indeed exhilarating. But it also left me with a rather sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. These things really shouldn't exist at all, and there's a distinct sense of obscenity about them. But hey, what a fun afternoon!


Of the Colt .45, .44 Magnum and AK-47 I tried today in Austin, the .44 Magnum was the most fun in a "Sweet Jesus, this is one powerful hand-cannon" kind of way. The Colt, however, was the most fun in a "This one doesn't buck like a bloody horse, so I can actually enjoy aiming and attempting to hit the target". The AK-47 was somewhere in between - its severe recoil kept knocking my headphones off, which was disturbing.


We have still yet to die. One of us did, however, incur an injury today at the shooting range, but I'll let that darn fool tell y'all about it himself.

The Texas Railway Massacre

Just in case you'd been wondering why I haven't posted for a while - no, Lee Kern's Big Brother doc wasn't the end of me (got quite hot-headed about that, didn't I? Clearly needed a holiday). I'm in Austin, Texas, for the Fantastic Fest 2008, which is almost certainly the greatest film festival I've ever been to, in what is hands-down the most amazing cinema I've ever visited, the Alamo Drafthouse.

I'll tell you more when I'm back, as it would be foolish to sit in Austin writing, when there are films, meat, booze and DVD buying sprees to savour. But here's a picture of me, director Sean Hogan, writer/editor Jay 'Slatros' Slater and TV's James Moran, to be getting on with. We're all staying in a lodge, which is a five-minute walk from the Alamo Drafthouse - even if that five-minute walk involves negotiating steep stony slopes, forest undergrowth and the railway line that you see here - often by moonlight alone. So far, no has died. Good day to you.

My Name Is Jason Arnopp, And I Am A Magpie

A year and a half ago, when I moved into this flat, I realised that I had too much stuff. The removal guys (namely The Good Guys, who I fully recommend, removal fans) thankfully had a storage facility, so I put a whole load of stuff into that instead. Then, as 18 months passed... I kinda forgot what was in there. Apart from about a third of my DVD collection, which I'd stored away by mistake.

These days, as I focus more on screenwriting and less on paid work - for the time being, at least - that monthly storage cost has become harder to justify. So today, I had all the storage stuff delivered.


The worst case scenario was that I'd wildly underestimated how much stuff there was. Thankfully, that scenario didn't happen. But Christ, there's a lot of stuff. Fifteen boxes of various shapes and sizes, but mostly big. Shelving units. My old PC and monitor. Literally 1000 interview tapes with various people from the rock, film and general entertainment world (definitely time to buy one of these USB tape-players, which let you transfer cassettes to MP3). A life-size cut-out of Jason Voorhees, holding a machete aloft. A statue of Michael Myers, broken off at the feet (it was that way when it went into storage).

Part of me's delighted to get all my stuff back - especially as there are hordes of TV preview discs in there which are much more useful to me now than they were 18 months ago. Yet, another part of me wonders how much of this stuff I really need, when I could barely even remember what it was.

But hey, there's a Vectrex games console in one of the boxes. That little baby's definitely staying.

Three Amusing Things

AMUSING THING # 1
Thanks to my regular Google of my own name (c'mon, you do it too), I discovered that I won an award, three years ago. Oh yes, back in the mists of 2005, Bookgasm decided that my novel Friday The 13th: Hate-Kill-Repeat was worthy of the year's Best Title, Regardless Of How The Book Is. They're almost certainly taking the piss, but hey, it's an award. As the guy/gal who runs the site says: "Every time I go to the bookstore, I have to look at this cover just to assure myself I wasn’t dreaming it."

AMUSING THING # 2
Director Shane Meadows recently staged a private screening of his latest film Somers Town, for the residents of Camden area Somers Town. The Camden New Journal reports on the event thusly: "Although the audience response was favourable, the film... drew flak from some for its 'unrealistic' portrayal of the neighbourhood. Cheers at the sight of local cafe The Golden Tulip turned to disconsolate mutters when the interior shots revealed the staff had been replaced by professional actors." Gasp! What the hell was Meadows playing at, eh? Outrageous.

AMUSING THING # 3
Quite simply, the tagline on the cover of this Steven Seagal movie, Mercenary For Justice. Really makes the film stand out from the rest of the pony-tailed star's oeuvre.

The Office

He had to do it. The Bishop had to go and turn it into a meme. Damn it all to hell!

We've seen the work spaces of Andrew Tibbs, Laura Anderson and The Bishop. So here's mine:

You'll notice the lack of coloured index cards stuck on the wall. This is because I've tried, and failed, to get my head around this method of plotting. I'd rather open a Word file and write the list of events, and/or write a proper treatment. Can't be dealing with craning my head to look up at the wall, every time I come to write a new scene.

So the wall carries posters instead, for preposterous Italian post-nuke films like Rome 2033 The Fighter Centurions and Final Executioner. And a Friday The 13th wall calendar... with nothing actually written on it, because I work from a week-to-week planner book instead. But hey, I like the pictures. Also on the wall is that yellow sheet - reminding me of TV shows I need to catch up on, via my DVD-recorder's hard drive or box-sets - and a few index cards carrying important info like passwords for various websites.

Sadly, my study is also my bedroom. In my last flat, I had a proper study. Christ, I miss that room. And one day, I'll get it back. Not the same room, mind, seeing as my landlord was and is an utter fucknut and evicted me. (Who in their right mind objects to tenants holding Satanic rituals in which neighbours participate against their will?).

As a special, exclusive Arnopp boudoir bonus... here's the opposite wall. If it pleases you, click it to enlarge, then browse my shelves. I'll put the kettle on too, if you like.

I'm tagging Piers, The James Moran The Fifth and The Dark Arrow to show us where they work. So there.

Cheltenham SWF: Exorcists & Arachnid Attacks

An event of the Cheltenham Screenwriters' Festival's magnitude is quite the meeting of minds. Inevitably, somewhere during those three days, incredible concepts will be born. So it was, then, that the notion of The Exorcist: The Fifth was forged in hell's fire. Combine Moran, Turner, Perry, Thomson, Beckley and others, with several pints of booze, and that's simply the kind of genius you get. I laughed so hard, I almost keeled over and died.

But I couldn't leave it there, oh no. Because when I woke up the next morning it was still funny. So I forced Stuart Perry, at ballpoint, to perform two trailers for the film.

The first trailer, here, was delivered during Perry's "I've lost my voice" period, which added to the general sense of claustrophobic fear and unease, I think you'll agree:



The second trailer, here, was recorded on the last night of the festival, in the infamous Room Of Doom, 109. It is utterly terrifying.



There is also now a poster for this truly diabolical sequel. Drink it up, horror lovers...


Lastly, there has been talk of how much fun the SWF was, but no tell of the dangers lurking within its walls. Look at this with your mind:


Normal SWF coverage will be resumed asap. Apologies.

New Favourite Metal Song

Really wish I'd included Prong's The Banishment on my recent musical meme. Still, I've posted the video over at my thrash-blog, Thrasherama. If you're so inclined, check out that crazy riff-action.

Nice Memes, Nice Memes, We All Scream For Nice Memes

Sweet galloping trousers: this meme is spreading through the scribosphere like some breed of plague. Sheikspear got me with it - and quite possibly someone else, as even with Google Reader's help I've struggled to catch up with the scribosphere since getting back from holiday.

So here we go. Here's the meme info which I've been ordered to reprint:

"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to."

And let's have a look to see which fragments of iTunes I've been playing most...

1) GINGER Ten Flaws Down (from the album Valor Del Corazon)
A superbly self-pitying and miserable track, which helped me through a difficult period last year. Personal sentiment aside, though, it's a stone-cold brilliant piece of work from The Wildhearts' frontman. Talk about a song which rips the singer wide open. You can hear it on his MySpace page's music player here.

2) MALEVOLENT CREATION The Will To Kill (from the album The Will To Kill)
Sometimes, you can't beat an outburst of pure, primeval aggression. It's good for you. These Floridians are my favourite death metallers, perhaps because they're so damn vicious. This particular track features a killer example of suddenly-going-slow-for-maximum-effect, somewhere around the middle. Hear it on their MySpace page's music player here, or watch a live performance below (even if you don't like death metal, you'll find the spoken intro amusing):



3) JUDAS PRIEST Breaking The Law (from the album British Steel)
I don't believe I'll ever stop loving this track. The finest metal song of all time, for me. Hear a live version on the band's MySpace music player, here, or watch the Brummie bruisers playing it live in Memphis 1982, below:



4) BLOODHOUND GANG Magna Cum Nada (from the album Hooray For Boobies)
A ticklesome tune about being a complete loser, from the puerile, juvenile funsters. My favourite lines: "Have you seen my will to live/Because I seem to have lost it" and "My future plans include: not much". If MySpace wasn't coming up with one of its "unexpected errors" (yeah, right, like it's unexpected by now - no wonder Facebook's sweeping the floor with 'em) then I'd post a link. But hey, here's YouTube to the rescue with a live performance:



5) METAL CHURCH Start The Fire (from the album The Dark)
An awesome track, with a riff that just keeps on giving. Here's a bizarre fanmade YouTube video which describes itself thusly: "Metal Church's best song through a glass of beer."



6) FAITH NO MORE What A Day (from the album King For A Day, Fool For A Lifetime)
An unsung (apart from by the band's singer, clearly) gem from the defunct San Francisco freakshow, which is a great example of telling a story in a song. I've never Googled for the lyrics and I don't want to, because the snatches of words I can hear are really evocative. Here they are, playing it on ludicrous TV youth show, The Word:



7) RAZOR Edge Of The Razor (from the album Violent Restitution)
This Canadian band are my favourite thrashers: it's all about the riffs and ludicrously heavy guitar tone here. You can listen to this wonderful track on the band's MySpace music player, here.

Hmm, this has taken rather long than expected. I'll re-edit this last paragraph to pass on the meme, later on...

RE-EDIT: God knows if anyone remains un-memed by this, so I'm going to shoot blind: Piers, Helen Smith, MJ, Dan Turner, Christine, Good Dog and Stephen Gallagher. All of whom, if game, should re-post the italicised instructions above, as well as following them.

Photo Requests

Now, the likes of James Moran, Danny Stack and Lucy Vee may have the monopoly on answering readers' scriptwriting queries, but I have clearly cornered the market on photo requests. I receive in excess of 25,700 photo requests per week, and frankly it's a struggle to keep up with them all.

While having a delightful holiday in Menorca over these last seven days with my good friend Jay Slater, however, I took the opportunity to finally satisfy some of the rabid demands. Here we go...

Q: Jason, Jason, Jason: whatever would you look like, doing double devil-horn signs by a large expanse of water in Menorca? I'd love to find out. Mrs W. Haversham, Sheffield.
A: Happy to oblige, Mrs Haversham. Here's your answer...



Q: Dear Jason, I'd really love to see a picture of you pushing a shopping trolley full of meat, charcoal and booze along a Menorcan street, while wearing a preposterous hat. Such a photograph would proper give me the horn. Regards, Dr D. Smith, Colorado.
A: Just for you, Dr Smith, here it is...



Q: Dear Jason, my husband and I have long pondered how you'd look, peeping cheekily over two pints of Guinness. In Menorca. Any chance? Mr & Mrs Pine, Egypt.
A: It was a stretch, this one, but I think I've pulled it off.



Q: How about a pic with one of your eyes looking through a wine glass, in Menorca? That'd be a hoot! Mr & Mrs Pine, Egypt.
A: How'd you like these apples, eh?



Q: Wearing that silly hat again, could you possibly pull a slightly camp facial expression by a steaming barbeque, in Menorca? That would make my week. And if you could throw in a bright yellow retro video games T-shirt, it'd make my whole damn year. Mrs P. Petersen, St Petersburg.
A: Only too happy to help, Mrs Petersen. In fact, this is my default photo-face, adopted in 99% of pictures. If you could see through the shades here, my eyes would be wide and not unlike the late Frankie Howerd's.



Q: My brother reckons you're the kind of guy who'd play pool quite aggressively in Menorca, pulling faces like some kind of 1980s heavy metal guitarist. Conversely, I think you'd be quite calm about the whole affair. Can you settle our bet? Anthony Jones, Leicester.
A: Anthony, I'm afraid your brother's won.



That's all we've got time for, sadly! Shame. Next up: that musical meme thang...

Three Things I've Been Dying To Tell You All Damn Week

THING ONE
Scriptwriter magazine, that august UK organ dedicated to our favourite pasttime (okay, our second favourite pasttime), is going online! As of July 1, 2008, it will migrate to TwelvePoint.com, where it will continue to deliver its established diet of stylish articles, as well as a whole lot more interactivity and value. I met up with its editor Julian Friedmann the other day and was excited to hear his aims of "making TwelvePoint the world's biggest writing portal." I shall babble more about this as the time draws near, but for now, hit the TwelvePoint website for all the details. Then come back and read the Other Two Things I've Been Dying To Tell You All Week.

THING TWO
I recently saw an excellent horror film named Inside - or L'Interieur in its native France. I don't believe it has secured a UK release yet, but it's well worth keeping an eye out for, provided you're not (a) squeamish about nasty gore; or (b) pregnant. Starring Beatrice Dalle, it's a brilliantly classy, scary and damn vicious story about a pregnant mother whose home is invaded on Christmas Eve. I loved it.

THING THREE
Running low on displacement activities and stress-easing devices? Enjoy popping bubble-wrap? In that case, you may well enjoy Puchi Puchi - a Japanese creation which simulates bubble-wrap you can pop forever... or as long as you have a tiny battery installed. As you squeeze the device, it makes the sound of a bubble being popped, and once in a while makes a ludicrous random noise. I'd say it simulates about 80% of the joy of bubble-wrap destruction, which is good enough for me. It's certainly perfect for nervously fiddling about with while reading script notes.

Have a great Saturday, you ridiculously special person.

The next James Bond movie will be entitled...

... Quantum Of Solace.

This has seriously tickled me.

Screenwriting Scandal Strikes

The screenwriting community was ROCKED to its very core this morning, with the revelation that many writers’ personal journals and notes have been FREELY POSTED on the internet in the form of so-called “blogs”. The scandal is believed to have begun when a hard disk drive containing private musings disappeared from a Writers’ Guild van on Boxing Day. Cyber-criminals then posted these online. In effect, some shocked writers have had personal material from the whole of 2007 - and in some cases beyond - published online, against their wishes.

“I literally cannot believe this has happened,” weeps Bournemouth’s Danny Stack, one of the main victims whose work is now visible here. “I was in the process of putting together a great book, full of advice about screenwriting and script-reading in the UK, which would’ve been entitled Screenwriting & Script-Reading In The UK. But now, someone’s gone and posted the lot, for all to see. As if I’d voluntarily hand over all that information and help for free!” In protest, Stack added, he was planning to grow a beard, then shave it OFF again.

Robin Kelly and Lianne Rooney similarly lament the publication of their extensive data, which they had assembled purely for their OWN use. Kelly regularly compiled lists of newly-released Hollywood movies, well-chosen interview quotes and various handy information. In the summer of 2007, Kelly wrote a multi-part Red Planet Guide document, solely in order to pep himself up for the competition. “I feel bad for Robin,” says Rooney. “And now, everyone can also see my handy list of screenwriting dates, which means other people can go for these opportunities too! That was never, ever the intention.”

For other scribes, the outrageous leak means EMBARRASSING details of their lives being revealed to MILLIONS. Mother-of-one Lara Greenway has been “devastated” to learn that her brutally frank account of her child “farting a poo at me during a 4am nappy change” is now in the public domain. Father-of-none Jason Arnopp is presently under SEDATION, having learnt of the publication of diary entries about being the only person to turn up to a pitch event with a mood board; running around on beaches in women’s sandals; and locking himself in his own flat. Lucy Vee has vowed to “KILL these low-down thieving bastards with an egg whisk”, after personal memos titled I Am A Bad Mother, How To Write An Ode To A Dog... and Talking Dirty became accessible to complete strangers, all shot through with innuendo and EXPLICITLY SEXUAL content.

“I’m gutted,” shrieks Doctor Who/Torchwood writer James Moran. “Not only will people now see that I’m OBSESSED with the Amazon chart placements of Severance on DVD, and how PISSED UP I got at the Fantasporto festival, but they’ll be able to read about my preposterous attempts to pack up my flat in one single day. And even see a picture of all my junk in boxes! I feel totally violated, and shit.” As does prolific keyboard-smith Phillip Barron, who mewls thusly: “My journals were a steam-venting exercise for me, me and only me. They were jampacked with PROFANITY, bad temper and general abuse. When you meet me in person, I’m a lovely, amiable smiley-bloke, because of those writings. They were essentially self-help tools, and now any old fucking prick can see them. Nyarrrgh!”

South London scribbler Piers Beckley clearly had the right idea. During July 2007, he took the precaution of ENCRYPTING at least two of his journal entries. “Being technologically minded,” he whispers, “I could see this shit-storm a-brewing. So I thought that if I wrote things that only I would understand – like Oh Hai, I Can Has Turing-Complete? and of course The Correct Answer Is: "A Threesome" – then I’d escape scot-free. And by God it worked like a charm.”

Other unfortunate revelations about not-so-Nostradamian script-jockeys include Oliver Jeffery’s crippling roleplaying ADDICTION; a video of Dominic Carver’s new study, filmed by a baboon; Potdoll’s gratuitous use of the word “ACEFACE”; David Bishop being a supernatural ROBOT from the planet Brilliantus Efficiencus; Andy Pillock’s account of a man who regularly takes his cat to the PUB; Martin Adams taking a job as a cab driver solely in order to HARRANGUE screenwriting celebs like William Nicholson; Good Dog not actually liking Doctor Who at all; and Stuart Perry’s alcohol-induced invention of “John Barrowman’s Bumming Carousel”. As we went to press, a spokesperson for the reclusive Perry couldn’t confirm or deny that this is also the title of his top-secret film script, currently in development.

Script Clinic, with Doctor Denis Leary

Q: Doctor, I'm working on a treatment for a feature-length movie. Is it best to use the 12pt Courier font? I've heard it's frowned upon by some industry types...
A: Shut the fuck up! Next!

Q: Doctor, Act One went like a breeze. Wrote it in 48 hours. But Act Two is proving to be a real quagmire. Very tricky indeed. In fact, I'm starting to doubt the whole concept of a thriller set among the Eskimo community. Should I press ahead with it, or ditch the project?
A: Shut the fuck up! Next!

Q: Doctor, what's best: Final Draft or --
A: Shut the fuck up! Next!

Next Time: Father Dougal McGuire answers your queries.

Friends In Low Places

You literally never know what you're about to see on the streets of Camden Town. It can be people, things, dead things, dead people... anything. One day, I saw an empty suitcase with two snails sitting on it (I moved them to safer green pastures, then realised I might have just fucked up the holiday they'd saved long and hard for). More recently, I saw an Iain M Banks novel on the pavement, with discarded female underwear draped over it. Try as I might, I couldn't work out the connection.

Today, while walking somewhere for lunch, I saw the entire Friends box-set - completely with little swingy doors - sitting on the pavement by a couple of wheelie bins. Once I'd pushed my eyeballs back into my head, I became suspicious. Was this some hidden-camera show set-up? If I grabbed this item, would boxing kangaroos emerge from each wheelie-bin and punch me out?

So I grabbed it, and the kangaroos either didn't exist, or stayed put. Got a few puzzled looks in the restaurant, what with having a Friends box-set sitting on the table with me, but I didn't care. It just made me intriguing. Oh yes.

Just one problem: I've noticed that the third disc of Series One is missing. And the swingy doors don't seem to shut properly. So I'd be delighted if whoever discarded the set could send the missing disc and some blue-tack to: 666 Ungrateful Street, NW1. Good day to you.

Hilton Hilarity

Oh, there's nothing like a celeb getting pissed off on a talk show. Here's David Letterman brilliantly grilling a very reluctant Paris Hilton about her time in the slammer. My favourite part's when he offers to buy her a parakeet to cheer her up. Incidentally, if you're running short on displacement activities, I originally saw this at heat mag's highly addictive Heat World site...

How Spell-Checking Can Prevent A Riot

The inestimable Baron Phillip Barron recently posted about the importance of content over format (see his post 'The Rules'). And it's almost certainly true that we aspiring types possibly worry too much about font point sizes and brackets.

Yet detail can be vital. There are occasions when a typo can be a timebomb. Let me draw your attention, sir/madam, to an example on the website of Liverpool bar/club Korova. How, for the love all things great and good, did that happen?

Please don't tell them, mind. I've suggested that a local friend of mine does so, in order to secure their eternal gratitude and hopefully free booze.

It's Not What It Looks Like

Had a fantastic Friday, meeting director Dan Turner for an epic discussion of a film we've started cooking up with a frightening display of creative chemistry and determination. We were highly professional about it too, accomplishing several hours of Proper Sensible Talk before laying into the Mojitos and the buckets of Jack and lemonade.

So naturally, to celebrate an incredibly productive and business-like Friday, I thought it only fair to spend the rest of the weekend visiting the marvellously-named Wittering on the South Coast, get pissed-up on Pimms, build sandcastles (well, a 'robot' which looked more like a ghost) and run around on the beach wearing ladies' silver flip-flops. With a flowery design. That's what every writer does, to let off steam, right?

No? Just me? Oh.

Writer's Roulette

Every now and again, I have so many work-related juggling balls in the air, that I don't know which to deal with next. Or I'll start one piece of work, then realise I'd rather be/should be doing something else, and switch. It drives me insane, as if my brain is being pulled in five different directions at once. Occasionally, if I'm not careful, I'll short-circuit and nothing of any significance is achieved. Maddening.

Hooray, then, for Jurgen Wolff, whose blog I only just discovered, thanks to a link in today's Shooting People newsletter, edited by the unstoppable Andy Conway (although he hasn't written an editorial for a couple of days now, which upsets me). Here's one of Wolff's simple suggestions for overcoming the madness...

Because procrastinators often like the excitement of putting things off, try playing "to-do list roulette." Make a list of three things you could do today (including at least one task that relates to getting done the thing you're supposed to be doing instead of procrastinating). Write each one on a separate index card, turn them over, shuffle them until you have no idea which one is which, select one, turn it over, and do that task. The element of chance may give you the adrenaline you crave, and the odds are that you'll be on task for at least one-third of the time.

This I like. Might well give it a shot. Or shall I? After all, there are five other methods to overcome indecision. Which one's best? Etc.