Paul McCartney describes Spinal Tap song as ‘literature' in first sequel trailer
Speaking in the trailer, Sir Paul says: 'Pink Torpedo, that's literature, really.'
The film is a follow-up to This Is Spinal Tap (1984), and follows David St Hubbins (Michael McKean), Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) as they reunite after a 15-year hiatus.
In the trailer, introduced by Marty DiBergi (played by real life director Rob Reiner), the band's members are seen to have launched their own cryptocurrency and worked in a shop during their time apart.
Their reunion is revealed to take place in New Orleans as a replacement for 'an evening with Stormy Daniels' which was cancelled at the venue, while a scene showing them going through merchandise for the show sees the band looking at branded Tap Water.
The band are later asked whether one of them would be willing to die during the concert, with one of the members replying: 'Would you settle for a coma?'
Spinal Tap II: The End Continues will be released in cinemas in the UK on September 12.
The original film followed the band from their beginnings as the skiffle group, The Originals, through to their time as a 1960s R&B group called The Thamesmen who had a hit with Gimme Some Money, before eventually becoming Spinal Tap, which begins as a psychedelic band before moving into heavy metal.
As Spinal Tap, the film follows the group as they release the album Smell The Glove, which retailers refuse to sell due to its sexist cover, and plan a large-scale, Druid-themed glam rock show, but a replica of Stonehenge which was supposed to be 18ft high, ends up being 18 inches after they get the measurements wrong.
The name Spinal Tap has become a derogatory term to describe real bands who overindulge in rock cliches, while the film also gave birth to the phrase 'turn it up to 11' after guitarist Nigel's amps were shown to have volume switches that go to 11 rather than 10 in the original movie.
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Times
14 hours ago
- Times
Grumpy Britain needs the Geldof treatment
America's summertime invasion is well under way. The commander-in-chief is leading from the front, touring his golf courses in Scotland. His vice-president is reportedly preparing to establish a beachhead in the Cotswolds. Protected by their entourages, the Britain they will encounter resembles the Hollywood fantasy of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. But if they really want to understand their ally, the Britain they need to meet lives next door to the grumpy, miserable Victor Meldrew of One Foot in the Grave. That's not on anyone's schedule right now. The wedding of Eve Jobs, daughter of the late Apple boss, took place in the church of St Michael & All Angels, near Chipping Norton, on Saturday. A former vice-president, Kamala Harris, and a stream of liberal multimillionaires mingled with a Springsteen or two and at least one Kardashian. Even if we don't matter that much any more, we remain irresistibly cute to our transatlantic cousins. • Eve Jobs and Harry Charles marry in 'quaint corner' of the Cotswolds The Hollywood landscape of Merrie England, with its kings, queens, thatched cottages, rolling hills, baffling titles, jolly peasants and strolling troubadours (Elton John played the wedding party) is the stuff of countless movies. No wonder Americans are confused by the reality. As far back as 1942, US troops stationed in Britain were cautioned not to be misled by the British 'tendency to be soft-spoken and polite… the English language didn't spread across the oceans and over the mountains and jungles and swamps of the world because these people were panty-waists'. A generation of American friends whistled along to Bing Crosby, William Bendix and Cedric Hardwicke tramping along the lanes whistling Busy Doing Nothing in the film version of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee… This, perhaps, is the Britain for which Mr Trump feels most affinity; a world of wise and virtuous monarchs, of chivalrous heroes and moustachioed villains, of valiant knights and, above all, of a deferential, complaisant people. His periodic visits to Turnberry and his other properties must feel in some way like a replay of the 1954 Gene Kelly movie Brigadoon, about a bewitched Scottish village so perfect that its inhabitants contrive to ensure it only appears to the rest of the world for one day every 100 years or so, lest its dreamy heaven be changed by cold reality. Sequestered in his own personal Brigadoon, the president is unlikely to come face to face with the true mood of our nation. Just as well. As the old saying goes, the peasants are revolting. And so are the apprentices. And the apothecaries. And the squires. Even the knights are uneasy. Britain is in a sour state: angry and disillusioned — less Camelot, more Meldrew's Tresillian Way. Living standards are declining, public service productivity plummeting, utilities unreliable and expensive. Our waterways are filthy. The public's faith in the health service is failing; and even though crime is falling, citizens say they feel no safer. A Sunday Times survey of the nation's mood published at the weekend makes unhappy reading for Sir Keir Starmer's ministers. The burning fuse of small boats in the Channel remains smouldering, with record numbers crossing this year. Six in ten of us think the French government simply isn't keeping its side of the very expensive bargain. Sixty-nine per cent share Trump's view that we, like the US, should forget about the deal and deploy our own troops to stem the tide. He sent the Marines and cut crossings by 90 per cent; both the Reform leader Nigel Farage and the Blue Labour guru Maurice Glasman want the Royal Navy to blockade the Channel. The protests against the siting of asylum hotels in Epping, Norwich and Diss have been disturbing, though not yet on the scale of those triggered by the atrocity in Southport a year ago this week. But the admission by a senior Labour MP that the Home Office and local authorities are competing for accommodation to house healthy, young, male asylum seekers and homeless single-parent families is a powder keg waiting to explode. The unrest comes against a deeper background of disillusion. The generation now leaving university is the first in perhaps 200 years who cannot expect to have a higher standard of living than their parents, even though their educational attainments are dramatically greater. The totemic British adult milestone, the purchase of your own home with a mortgage, has now become unattainable for many, even for the children of middle-class parents. In 2004, more than half of us owned our own homes by the age of 32. That age is now 36, and climbing. The decision last week to announce a pensions review signals that the actuaries have done their work and retirement age will increase for those at work. People in their twenties are now contemplating working well into their seventies. Or forever. Anger, of course, does not have to be a bad thing. It is often the catalyst for action. But that transformation demands leadership, vision and poetry. We've seen it happen before. A brilliant three-part documentary series produced by one of the great film-makers of our time, Norma Percy, recounts the way in which Bob Geldof's explosion of rage at the fate of children in Ethiopia galvanised a generation and created Band Aid and Live Aid. The old campaigner has once again entered the lists, this time on behalf of the starving children of Gaza. Interviewing him over the weekend, I was reminded that sometimes words can make a difference, especially when put together by a poet like Geldof. You do not have to take sides to be moved by his vivid evocation of 'the IDF… dangling food in front of starving, panicked, exhausted mothers' or 'children … taking a teaspoonful of salt and as much water as they can drink to fill their bellies'. It is hard to contest Geldof's dismissal of the demand by 200 MPs for recognition of a Palestinian state as virtue-signalling. I have little doubt that his sheer moral authority will have contributed to the Israeli decision to allow more aid into Gaza and to agree to 'tactical pauses' in the fighting. But Geldof's righteous anger is a rare thing in British politics. Instead we get the bluster of government which comes down to little more than noise-making in the hope that something will turn up; and the grandstanding opportunism of opposition manoeuvring to escape responsibility. And I cannot right now name the poet in our politics capable of summoning up the words to turn our nation's rage into a positive, uplifting vision. Nor, I suppose, can you.
Daily Mail
a day ago
- Daily Mail
I've been on The 1% Club, Tipping Point and The Chase - here's my stern warning for anyone who makes it onto TV, plus there's an awful truth about how we get cast
A former winner of The Chase has issued a stern warning to others who make it onto television - informed by his experience on some of the UK's most popular game shows. Having also featured on The 1% Club and Tipping Point, Steven Sneade has become something of a veteran contestant. His most triumphant win came when he beat chaser Paul Sinha, aka The Sinnerman, and took home an impressive £17,000. But the 69-year-old hasn't always had such good luck. 'I was knocked out of The 1% Club on the first question,' he admitted. 'Then I just had to sit there for hours while the rest of the show was filmed.' Speaking on behalf of OLBG, Liverpool-based Steven revealed just how gruelling the interview process can be, as well as the tricky task of being 'entertaining' for the camera. 'It's a difficult one, because you've got to stand out from the crowd,' he said. 'But if that's not what you're like normally, you're not going to come across very well.' Steven warned against pretending to be someone else, arguing that both viewers and producers can smell inauthenticity. 'Trying to fake a big personality will not help,' he continued. 'If you're a naturally quieter person, trying to be an extrovert isn't going to work. It's going to come across as false.' But Steven stressed there is a balance to be found, because producers will inevitably be drawn to the most interesting contestants. 'You've got to remember that it is, first and foremost, an entertainment show,' he said. 'For ITV, it's to get as many viewers as they can. Try and see it from their point of view – what do they want? They want someone who is going to be a bit lively and a bit different.' As far as talking about yourself, Steven advised would-be contestants to sell themselves and pick out the juiciest nuggets. 'You've got to play for your strengths. If your hobby is that you play the piano, don't just say you play the piano at home - try and make it something excellent. If you once played at the Royal Albert Hall, say that.' And while Steven thinks honesty is a virtue, he nonetheless suggested embellishing the truth slightly. 'You don't always have to stick 100 per cent to the truth. They don't check up on it,' he admitted. 'It's awful, and I don't like lying, but there is something about television, it's all a bit false. Exaggerate the truth. Emphasise the positives.' The well-versed player urged applicants not to take themselves too seriously - and to prepare for the barrage of negative comments they will get. With avid game show fans picking apart their favourite episodes on social media in real time, participants have to enter with a thick skin. Steven said: 'One of the things they've emphasised on all the shows I've been on is that, sadly, you will get slated on social media when the episode is shown. You've got to be prepared to laugh at yourself.' Of his own experience applying for The Chase, Steven explained how he had to complete an online application, a phone interview and 20-question general knowledge test. What followed next was an in-person group audition with other prospective candidates held at a Liverpool hotel. 'We played a few little games, then a mock-up of The Chase. We had to do a minute piece on camera and another 20-question test.' The stakes were high, though, and only two out of ten hopeful applicants were shortlisted for the final cut. And it was a long two years before Steven even got a call back, although he had nearly been dropped owing to his previous appearance on Tipping Point. 'They don't want people being on those two programmes so close together. Apparently they get a lot of backlash for having the same people on different shows.' Steven has previously revealed why ITV bosses warn the players to not share any of their prize money with the eliminated players. Steven said: 'If you win you have to sign another contract as you're accepting money from them. 'They told us not to give money to the contestants who didn't win money just because you feel sorry for them.
The Independent
a day ago
- The Independent
Number of British acts playing at festivals in Europe plummets after Brexit
The number of British music acts performing at major European festivals has significantly decreased since Brexit, with an average fall of a quarter compared to pre-Brexit levels (2017-2019). Analysis of four major festivals, including Benicassim, Lollapalooza, Rock en Seine, and Roskilde, revealed Benicassim experienced the largest drop, with 58 per cent fewer British acts. Industry leaders and musicians, including Elton John, have highlighted that increased paperwork, red tape, and costs are creating a 'logistical nightmare' for touring artists. Organisations like Best for Britain, the Independent Society of Musicians, and UK Music warn that these barriers are damaging opportunities for artists, impacting the UK's £7.6bn music industry, and diminishing its cultural influence. There are urgent calls for the government to address these challenges and work with European partners to implement solutions, with Labour's manifesto also committing to sorting out issues for touring musicians.
