A MAN'S COLD.
Don't come too near!
Not even now!
I have had the father and mother of all colds.
It was a man's cold so it was a near death job.
It was definitely not a woman's cold which is just a get on with it job.
My Leader suggested I use paper handkerchiefs. They could,
I was informed, be shredded and flushed down the loo to eventually
reach the sewers where they would no doubt become a major
ingredient in the first ever cold cure for rats.
But I do not like paper handkerchiefs. They are never big enough,
Not even the mansize super-strength supersoft big-as-Texas ones.
They are too thin to be used singly, they become even more
offensively soggy than their cotton counterparts and they are
a sore nose certainty.
All right. So the cotton handkerchief will carry germs which
may be passed on.
But heck!
I did warn you!
Don't come too near!
STILL TRIPPING ON WORDS.
If you have heeded my occasional advice to follow their exploits
you will know that those two lovely young TrippingOnWords
women, Claire and Lara, are in Kenya where they are out
running at odd hours, teaching English to some clearly delightful
children and dispensing free footwear as a (more popular when
trendily new) sideline.
This pair are proof that America has more to offer than friendly
fire fatalities and the distinction of joining two world wars too
late then claiming to have won them. (Who wrote their history
books? Lewis Carroll?)
No, this pair are part of what is good in any country.
They are caring and no little determined to do something
worthwhile. They'll not always be popular with those they
seek to help or, for that matter, with some of their own
countrymen, but they will keep trying I'm sure.
And if, instead of being just an English pensioner, I had been
clever and ruthless enough to become a millionaire, I would
be sending them as many pairs of brand new trainers as
their Kenyan children could possibly use - and then some.
So come on, one of you footwear millionaires, do yourself
and Tumaini Children's Centre a favour. Send them a few
hundred trendy pairs of trainers, gratis.
Just e-mail Claire and Lara@trippingonwords.com
and offer your help.
You'll probably be able to knock the gift off your tax bill
and the publicity value when news of your generosity
reaches the rest of the world will be incalculable.
Why not give it a go?
A FINAL GOODBYE TO TONY? (THE SOPRANOS - CHANNEL 4)
It looks as though we are saying a final goodbye to the gloriously
overweight, overbearing, over-the-top Tony Soprano, played by
James Gandolfini.
He has a macabre charisma. A deceptive menace.
He has a family to die of rather than for, is surrounded
by a mob of arguably the worst hair styles, wigs and
hairpieces in the history of organized crime and has a
surprisingly human tendancy to collapse under stress.
He also has a psychiatrist with the best pair of legs in
the entire trick-cycling world.
He and his mad Mafia mates will be missed.
It is obvious they are going, though.
The Sopranos has been dispatched to an 'adult' time of
night, five past eleven, which is a clear indication
that the silly sods who call themselves schedulers -
or some such fancy description - have decided that
the public is no longer interested in the programme.
Soon it will be past midnight and then one in the
morning before you can view it.
You may programme your recorder to catch it but
the said schedulers will then make last minute
changes to the advertised times.
They did all those things when discarding NYPD Blue
(plus screening it on a seldom viewed Channel) so
they have already set a precedent.
I despair, I really do
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 03, 2007
64. Shadow's Soccer,Lewis's Oxford, Izzard's Kitchen and NCIS's Abby
FURTHER RUMINATIONS OF THE CAT SHADOW.
"Plenty of soccer on the box last week then," I said to the cat Shadow.
He remained curled up in the chair which he has discovered almost
hides him from the baby Ellis.
He ignored me.
"First it was Arsene Wenger's team," I persisted. "Good game that was."
"FA Cup, wasn't it?" he said suddenly.
I thought: gotcha!
"Think it was, yes," I murmured innocently.
"Yeah," he said, "The boot-kicking Scot's Manchester United played
in the evening. They drew with Steve Coppell's Reading."
I wondered again at his ability to dismiss the names of the football
club managers he does not like and instantly recall those he does.
"Sir Alex seemed quite cordial when they shook hands at the end of
the game," I ventured.
He grunted and gave me his stop being such a creep look.
"Following week United did well against Lille in the Champions'
League, too," I said boldly. "Chalk up another good week for the
boot-kicking Scot."
"Nothing to beat the punch up at the end of the Carling Cup Final,
though, when the unsmiling Frenchman's Gunners and the
Portuguese-in-the-posh-overcoat's Pensioners had their set-to,"
he said jubilantly. "Great start to a sporting week that was. Didn't
I tell you footballers were just a bunch of overpaid, warring buggers?"
"United will win the Reading replay, too," I continued doggedly, "and
the league. Just you see."
"No I won't bloody see," he retorted. "I've had enough mayhem for
this season. In future I'll be beating the bounds or sound asleep."
Don't know why I bother.
LEWIS. (ITV1)
Good old Lewis (Kevin Whately) was given the task of looking after
a best-selling author (Owen Teale) in this second of a three part
series based on the character created by Colin Dexter (who still
does the occasional Hitchcock-style background guest appearance).
I don't think I am spoiling anything by revealing that Lewis lost
his man in spectacular style.
It reminded me of the Morse episode "Twighlight of the Gods"
with John Gielgud, Robert Hardy and Sheila Gish as a singer
who was shot in the quad (not the most desirable spot to be shot).
The writer of this Lewis episode was Alan Plater.
Kevin Whately gave his usual sound performance. Laurence Fox
was the clever Det. Sgt. Hathaway, Clare Holman was back as
Dr. Laura Hobson. Rebecca Front has replaced James Grout as
the Chief Superintendant.
It ran for two hours and was easy viewing.
Lewis is Morseless Morse. And if good old Lewis should ever
decide to move on he could well be replaced by clever Hathaway.
Which will be much like watching good old Morse again.
KITCHEN. (Five)
Drama on Five and a welcome change from the customary diet
of American forensic experts, detectives, documentary dross
and second rate films.
Set in a swank Glasgow restaurant (eh?) this two part play
(a modern presentation so it contained not one really nice
character) was proof yet again that, while actors may not make
good stand-ups, stand-ups often make good actors.
A leading role in Kitchen was played by cross-dressing
stand-up comedian Eddie Izzard and, as a once famous but now
sadly drunken top chef, he was good.
Simon Ashdown's story of sex-obsessed, drug-snorting liars and
thieves was not for the faint-hearted.
Danny, a gifted young cook, was the central character. The main
story concerned whether he could complete his year on probation
for theft given the ill-will of his crooked probation officer, the
attentions of the probation officer's wife and the advances of the
viciously queer sous chef in the kitchen where he worked.
James Young as Danny and the rest of an excellent cast
(Stuart Bowman, Frank Gallagher, Charlene McKenna, Natalie
Robb et al.) made this a kitchen well worth the watching.
NCIS. (Five)
Back to the American forensic experts and detectives again.
But this one remains a cracking example of what television
should be. Entertainment.
Frame-Up had the dislikeable Anthony DiNozzo (Michael
Weatherley) being framed for murdering a couple of
female legs.
Well, not quite, but that's close enough.
The star of this episode was the delightful Abby Scluto
(Pauley Peretta), the team's forensic genius and a prize
cookie understandably cherished by team boss Jethro
Gibbs (Mark Harmon).
I'll not give anything away.
Suffice it to say we enjoyed every gloriously daft, funny,
unbelievable moment.
It even had a twist at the end.
"Plenty of soccer on the box last week then," I said to the cat Shadow.
He remained curled up in the chair which he has discovered almost
hides him from the baby Ellis.
He ignored me.
"First it was Arsene Wenger's team," I persisted. "Good game that was."
"FA Cup, wasn't it?" he said suddenly.
I thought: gotcha!
"Think it was, yes," I murmured innocently.
"Yeah," he said, "The boot-kicking Scot's Manchester United played
in the evening. They drew with Steve Coppell's Reading."
I wondered again at his ability to dismiss the names of the football
club managers he does not like and instantly recall those he does.
"Sir Alex seemed quite cordial when they shook hands at the end of
the game," I ventured.
He grunted and gave me his stop being such a creep look.
"Following week United did well against Lille in the Champions'
League, too," I said boldly. "Chalk up another good week for the
boot-kicking Scot."
"Nothing to beat the punch up at the end of the Carling Cup Final,
though, when the unsmiling Frenchman's Gunners and the
Portuguese-in-the-posh-overcoat's Pensioners had their set-to,"
he said jubilantly. "Great start to a sporting week that was. Didn't
I tell you footballers were just a bunch of overpaid, warring buggers?"
"United will win the Reading replay, too," I continued doggedly, "and
the league. Just you see."
"No I won't bloody see," he retorted. "I've had enough mayhem for
this season. In future I'll be beating the bounds or sound asleep."
Don't know why I bother.
LEWIS. (ITV1)
Good old Lewis (Kevin Whately) was given the task of looking after
a best-selling author (Owen Teale) in this second of a three part
series based on the character created by Colin Dexter (who still
does the occasional Hitchcock-style background guest appearance).
I don't think I am spoiling anything by revealing that Lewis lost
his man in spectacular style.
It reminded me of the Morse episode "Twighlight of the Gods"
with John Gielgud, Robert Hardy and Sheila Gish as a singer
who was shot in the quad (not the most desirable spot to be shot).
The writer of this Lewis episode was Alan Plater.
Kevin Whately gave his usual sound performance. Laurence Fox
was the clever Det. Sgt. Hathaway, Clare Holman was back as
Dr. Laura Hobson. Rebecca Front has replaced James Grout as
the Chief Superintendant.
It ran for two hours and was easy viewing.
Lewis is Morseless Morse. And if good old Lewis should ever
decide to move on he could well be replaced by clever Hathaway.
Which will be much like watching good old Morse again.
KITCHEN. (Five)
Drama on Five and a welcome change from the customary diet
of American forensic experts, detectives, documentary dross
and second rate films.
Set in a swank Glasgow restaurant (eh?) this two part play
(a modern presentation so it contained not one really nice
character) was proof yet again that, while actors may not make
good stand-ups, stand-ups often make good actors.
A leading role in Kitchen was played by cross-dressing
stand-up comedian Eddie Izzard and, as a once famous but now
sadly drunken top chef, he was good.
Simon Ashdown's story of sex-obsessed, drug-snorting liars and
thieves was not for the faint-hearted.
Danny, a gifted young cook, was the central character. The main
story concerned whether he could complete his year on probation
for theft given the ill-will of his crooked probation officer, the
attentions of the probation officer's wife and the advances of the
viciously queer sous chef in the kitchen where he worked.
James Young as Danny and the rest of an excellent cast
(Stuart Bowman, Frank Gallagher, Charlene McKenna, Natalie
Robb et al.) made this a kitchen well worth the watching.
NCIS. (Five)
Back to the American forensic experts and detectives again.
But this one remains a cracking example of what television
should be. Entertainment.
Frame-Up had the dislikeable Anthony DiNozzo (Michael
Weatherley) being framed for murdering a couple of
female legs.
Well, not quite, but that's close enough.
The star of this episode was the delightful Abby Scluto
(Pauley Peretta), the team's forensic genius and a prize
cookie understandably cherished by team boss Jethro
Gibbs (Mark Harmon).
I'll not give anything away.
Suffice it to say we enjoyed every gloriously daft, funny,
unbelievable moment.
It even had a twist at the end.
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