One of the most exciting developments over the past day, other than being part of a winning team at a Bristol film quiz, rampaging to victory across clammy, huddled groups of greasy-haired Tarantinians and old, bearded men who live and breath Hitchcock and who have seen every film ever, has been learning that the identity of Dr. Peter Thraft was revealed! It was in the papers on Friday. I missed it. Because I’m travelling. Hence I’m in Bristol going to film quizzes and preparing to attend a Bob Dylan conference tomorrow.
Close readers of this blog—well, I only have close readers, so all of you—will remember that Dr. Peter Thraft’s identity has come up before here and here. I suspected that the good Doctor was none other than Peter Serafinowicz, and I know I was not alone. However, it is quickly apparent that far more people thought Thraft was Steve Coogan. I will explain, in a post to follow, why I never thought it was Coogan. And in doing so, I will come back to the promise I made in an earlier post about Thraft to discuss “the real”.
But right now, while you’re waiting, I want to direct readers to the article in The Guardian where all is revealed. Go on, read the article. It's by Ben Dowell and Vicky Frost, whose names are only slightly more convincing that "Peter Thraft".
Are you done? No, seriously, did you go read it? Look, go read it, and then come back here.
Okay. Good. Did you see who is quoted there?
What the—? Who’s this “blogger” called “privatematters4publicthings”? Well, I can tell you it’s definitely somebody who evidently did not create a tag based on how it would look in print. I pity the poor sub who had to edit the piece: “Are you sure that’s the handle? What’s it mean? Is there really a number in it? Oh for fuck’s sake.” Sorry!
Anyway, stay tuned for my wrap-up on Thraft; it’ll be coming later in the week. Right now, as the film quiz victory fades into memory, I have to prepare for a whole day-long conference on Bob Dylan. I considered live-blogging, but then thought I could only push the "Z" button about four hundred times before I either got carpal-tunnel syndrome or really did fall asleep.