I bought a bargain basement trio of action/sci-fi films for brainless entertainment over the Easter holidays.  We watched the last one tonight-Independence Day.

What's stuck in my mind now is the image of the Will Smith character dragging, verbally abusing and taking out his frustrations on by kicking, his alien captive.  What's more, it's meant to be funny, and, since I don't remember it from the first time round, maybe back in 1997 I laughed along with everybody else.

I feel a bit sick now. We are the stories we tell ourselves.