A phrase usually said after listening to a song that didn’t appeal (longer for a film/book, etc), and often countered with – it would have gone anyway, you can’t stop time, or summat like that.
But I want to reclaim the phrase by interpreting it a different way. Think of it not as time that’s gone forever, when it wouldn’t have done otherwise. Think of it as a chunk of time we won’t choose (or be able) to recall later, because it was unmemorable. Choosing to listen to, watch, read something, there’s a hope that it will have an impact beyond the time given to consuming it – that it will be added to the treasured vault of memories, to be drawn upon in later life, and to give comfort in dotage. Not everything make the grade, and the phrase is just a way of marking that disappointment.
Oh, and feel free to post examples of songs that disappointed, if you like.
The first episode of Mrs Brown’s Boys.
There’s 30 minutes of my life I won’t get back.Yes, I stuck it out to the end in the hope there might be “something”
“That was five minutes of my life I won’t get back” is something I’ve heard a few times.
I usually hear: “That was 45 seconds of my life I won’t get back”
45 seconds? I’m impressed
We’re talking about drum solos, right?
If only
Paradiddles
Flams
Drums I’ll give you drums.
My kids have developed an explicable devotion for the grandad action oeuvre of Liam Neeson, and while I am prepared to admit the Takens – 1 and 2 at least – deliver mindless action, and the one in Berlin where he’s an amnesiac doctor is also ok. Non-stop is bonkers. But A Walk Among The Tombstones is without any redeeming features, any trash cheesy pleasure. Deeply unpleasant and incompetent. Even they will admit to not wanting to see it ever again. Me, 90 mins lost.
If you want to lose 90 minutes on a regular basis come and watch Barnsley with me every other week.
Just as soul sapping at Reading at the moment
I save wasted time by just glancing at the Patrick Thistle score.
Patrick Thistle? Didn’t he used to go out with Martha Tydfil?
Blasted autocorrect. I have sometimes used Patrick Thistle as a nom de blog online.
Help ma boab!
You think Birmingham City is anymore exciting?
I like the line “the best 2 minutes of your life include the foreplay and fag”.
Well, not all of us went to public school
Talk of foreplay never fails to remind me of Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire: Brace yourself!
I have kids of a certain age. Going to the cinema to watch Lord Of The Rings required the presence of an adult and mum determinedly ruled herself out. I had to endure three hours of mind-numbing, bum-numbing twaddle for three successive years! I loathe Lord Of The Rings.
Me too, but with Mrs. T…then three interminable Hobbit films. Peter Jackson owes me big time! We have the directors extra long versions at home….somwhere….I’ve hidden them.
Oh and fucking Harry Fucking Potter…how many were there? 8 films, all the bloody same.
Generally involving Harry shouting Voldemort is back! And not being believed, despite being right every other bloody time. You’d think someone would start to pay attention.
Rings, Potter, Star Wars, Bond, GoT, all the same old tosh. Except GoT which turned out to be really rather good. Still daren’t test the others.
I haven’t watched them (well, just the first) but on release Mark Kermode gave them all the reverence that masterpieces deserved. Is this not true?
I think at the time people were dazzled by the CGI. New Zealand looks fantastic. The story does not extend to nine fucking hours, though. Not even three.
Harry fucking Potter indeed – what a load of old tosh.Hugely popular doesn’t mean it is any good – it’s the Take That of literature
Yeah, and that Hungry Caterpillar, eh? What a wanker!
Greedy bastard!
I said on another thread that I had been to see Phantom Thread as a friend was an extra in it.
I went on a Thursday morning as it’s the showing for we elderly ones. Sat through it all didn’t see him however.
As the credits rolled the person behind said ” That’s a couple of hours I’ll never get back” His friend agreed
I just wondered why they hadn’t left before the end. I certainly would have done.
I walked out of Dune in the 80s as soon as Sting appeared on screen.
Not soon enough.
A lot of rock stars had a flying v guitar – he had flying V underpants.
Whilst I couldn’t claim to remember every band I’ve ever seen live – support acts are forgotten, I can’t recall all the unsigned, local bands etc., I’m pretty sure I could name all the major acts and interesting acts I’ve seen whether I enjoyed the show or not. Except, when clearing the loft I found an old diary – mid ’80s – and flicking through it, I was surprised to see I saw the Style Council in Liverpool. Despite being a Weller fan (then) I have no recollection of this whatsoever. My brother and his mate who came to stay both remember it, I have photos of us from the weekend of the show – but no memory of the gig. I can only presume it was very, very dull.
Thanks – I think that’s the closest response to the idea I had in the OP – that the experience was so forgettable, I couldn’t get it back if I wanted to. By definition, of course, it’s almost impossible to post descriptive examples.