21957 DAYS ON EARTH

    Let's make no mistake about it, there will be legal action. I'm sick of people stealing my ideas before I've even had them and yes Nick Cave I'm talking to you. Don't try to pretend you've forgotten that night we spent in Berlin at the Bildungsroman Bar drinking bats blood & ketamine cocktails and talking about film. I reckoned I could make a more pretentious film about myself than you could and you said "No Jeff, you're wrong. No-one could make a more pretentious film about themselves than I could". Okay Nick, so you win, but did you have to steal all my ideas ?

 My film was directed by my barista Jvornquist & my personal pubic hair stylist Narelle ClimateChangeAction.com.au ( politics and pubic hair are a powerful combination). They have no actual experience of film-making as such but they are both intensively creative and interesting people and if you take a couple of Dramamine before the movie starts you can deal pretty well with the crash zooms and gestalt-shock pans. I only work with genius. So they said to me Hey Greg ( fuck it, close enough, you know creative types, short on detail) ... so they said why not just make this a day in life of Jeff Browett, Blogger Bitcoin Billionaire and fully arty type enigma. I said shit why not.

So I drive Delta Goodrem around in the back of my Mk III Zephyr and talk about how my father bought me a gun and a six pack of Steinlager and a hooker and read aloud to me from the 1953 Plumbers & Gasfitters manual because he thought it would make me a man. I was eight. It's a hell of a story and although it's complete bullshit I think it really kicks the film along.

Then  I spend a bit of time "being creative" on my 1914 Remington typewriter while ...

Oh fine so now you're running scared Mr Cave. I've just received this pathetic whining note from your lawyers Goth, Hammerhead, & Apophthegmata insisting these similarities are "pure coincidence" and that I can hardly claim ownership of ideas which are in essence part of (Jung's) Collective Unconscious. Oh please. These scenes where I bash away on my Remington while snacking on squid ink martinis and unicorn-liver pate & crap on about how my comedy was profoundly influenced by the Old Testament minor prophets, and the almost Faustian bargains I struck to win the level of success I currently enjoy ? You cannot seriously tell me you didn't steal any of that.

And what about the title ? Nick. Come on. "20,000 Days on Earth" and "21957 Days on Earth" ? I think if you look really carefully you can see some similarity. You'll keep.

At this stage in the film we were hoping to insert shots of David Byrne reading the blog and laughing hysterically but he was unavailable & sent me an email assuring me that had he been available he would indeed have read the blog and found it extremely funny. Beat that Nick.

I know it seems like there's a lot of people just talking about what an extraordinary genius I am and how my comedy-writing has changed their lives and possibly the course of civilization itself. Actually, no, it seems about right. Especially the way this is skillfully intercut with scenes of me skyping George Clooney to make sure our outfits for the wedding don't clash.

Finally, and this hurts me, I was going to give Mr Cave the chance of a few golden moments of screen-time explaining how my comedy had turned him into the fun-loving laugh-a-minute Goth he is today. Sorry Nick. You blew it.