This short film won a Scottish BAFTA, which pleased me because I’d met the writer, Michael Richardson, a few times on a writing course I got turfed out of for not being able to write or spell bafta. Fair enough. I often go off in daft tangents that have no relevance. It’s not Dennis Nilsen, killing for company, and blocking the drains with body parts, or, bottle blonde, Britney Spears belting out that anthem of the pre-teens. But My Loneliness is Killing Me is, as the title suggests, a bleaker vision of our society.
Everything about the film is dark. It begins in a gay disco. Elliot (Luke Elliot), on the dance floor, is dressed like a woman, but he’s a man. Elliot propositions another man in the toilets, but is rejected because the would-be fuck-friend, ironically, prefers his men to be men.
Jack (Jamie Robson) is fucking another man, a knee trembler in a dark, locker-room. He checks through his stuff, his wallet and money gone, but he’s still got his wedding band.
Jack is back in his penthouse apartment, looking over the night lights of Glasgow. Meal for one.
Eliot hooks up with Jack over the phone, as easy a Pizza delivery. Male for one.
‘You got somewhere better to go?’ asks Eliot.
Jack beats a retreat, after they meet. It’s a repeat of what happened to Elliot in toilets of the disco. Elliot warns him he’ll not get anybody at this time of night. A fuck-you and fuck-me of the iPhone generation.
Selfies don’t mean selfish, but a way of getting your hole. Jack fucks Elliot, but then feels that tingle down below. Yeh, he’s lost his gold ring and checks his reflection in the mirror of the toilet. Symbolism. Elliot ends up in a bath holding the gold ring. Enter Gandalf. Yes, it’s Lord of the Rings. Well done Michael Richardson. Now, after BAFTA, to conquer Mordor. The ring that binds us all. But watch out for the orcs.