VIEWING FOR TOTAL MORONS.
At first I thought it was a very bad taste April Fool's joke. Then I realized it is May and what I was hearing was no joke. Seems that the latest example of appalling reality television will be screened in Holland where a fatally ill Dutch woman in a Big Brother house is to decide which of her house companions should be given her kidneys when she dies.
Anybody who has read my blog will know just how much I detest reality television.
To my mind all the cheapjack producers and staff concerned with this particular version should be put down and their kidneys given to those in immediate need. At least they might then have done something worthwhile in their misbegotten lives.
I would like to think that even the voyeuristic goggle eyes of the average Big Brother watcher will shun it.
Somehow I doubt that, though.
But only total morons will watch it.
BANK HOLIDAY TELE.
Wouldn't be English without first mentioning the bank holiday weather. It was a soaking wet day here on Sunday but Baby Boo, now two years old, came here with his parents and brightened up our entire weekend. Takes half an hour to clear up after he's gone and we don't begrudge a minute of it.
Now to the tele.
Doctor Who (BBC1 - Saturday) was the first of a two part story finishing next Saturday. At the start of this adventure the Doctor has mysteriously become John Smith, a master at a public school in 1913. Body-snatching aliens, similar to those in the 1956 classic film Invasion of the Body Snatchers, have appeared on strange beams of light. They are searching for 'A time lord.' I have no idea how it will unravel but I shall be there next week to find out.
Lusitania: Murder on the Atlantic (BBC1 - Sunday) starred three of our most dependable actors: John Hannah, Kenneth Cranham and Michael Feast. Nothing has ever been proven, of course, but it seems mightily strange that one torpedo from a First World War U-boat sank such a vast ship as the Lusitania in under twenty minutes if that ship was not carrying anything other than innocent passengers and cargo. The Establishment whitewashed itself spotlessly clean of course. It seems Churchill took his customary clinical stance and wrote off the incident as probably of value to the allied cause. Well, greatest ever Englishman or not, he was just another bloody politician after all. This was an excellent programme.
Kingdom (ITV1 - Sunday) Last of this first series starring Stephen Fry. It will be back. Have to be. Cast and Sunday night casual viewability too good to lose.
Springwatch (BBC2 - Monday onward) Yep, it's ol' Bill Oddy and his co-presenter Kate Humble gently twittering on as fledgelings devour each other and long, long, long minutes are spent waiting for another non-appearance of those deuced unco-operative Badgers. The move is still on to get rid of Simon King, too. This time they've banished him to the Hebrides. It'll run for at least three weeks.
Celebrity Master Chef (BBC1 - Monday onward) It's back. Say no more.
New Tricks (BBC1 - Monday) The last of the series. Just as well, it was beginning the slippery slide towards soap. The writers really do need to find some fresh old cases before the well chosen cast returns.
AND FOOTBALL...
"Becks is back!" I shouted to the cat Shadow. "He's been chosen for the Brazil friendly!"
"When's that then?" he asked.
"Friday night I think."
"Well don't get too excited ," he said. "One Becks may not make a summer."
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
73. The P.M., the Tele Week, Eggheads and a Cat Burglar
I SUPPOSE SOMEBODY WILL BE HAPPY.
So it's official then. The jaw-dropping Chancellor will become Prime Minister. Well there's a surprise.
Seems nobody could get enough Brownie points to stand against Brown. To me that says less about his competence to do the job than it does about the number of his colleagues filling their boots at the thought of being listed as his enemies. I suppose somebody will be happy, though, even if it is only him.
I suppose he will win the next election, too. He should. Currently the Blair clone Cameron and his cohorts have decided to announce their disfavour of the grammar school system. It seems that in my lifetime the Socialists have become the Tories and the Tories have become the Socialists. I cannot believe either have executed such a total about face without a liberal measure of vote seeking cynicism. They have not an iota of integrity between them.
However, I seem to remember making a birthday resolution last year that I would never again tax your patience or my blood pressure with politics, politicians or their civil service bosses. As it is there are more than enough Westminster weasels spouting claptrap every day.
ON YOUR BEEB LAST WEEK.
Dalziel and Pascoe finished in even more confusion than it started. Richard E Grant's ability as a hypnotist failed him when it was most needed. Warren Clarke and Colin Buchanan floundered through the quagmire like two actors looking for their parts. Everybody else just sank. Oh well, you can't win 'em all.
Victoria's Empire came to an end with Victoria Wood discovering that big-mouthed radio presenters in New Zealand are no different from those throughout the rest of the world: she then visited Tasmania to learn how colonialism wiped out all the original native inhabitants. By the time she reached Zambia it was clear that a modern English traveller abroad should have learned how to apologize in almost every language known to man. A good series, though.
Holby Blue I missed in favour of Return of the Tribe (an excellent series on Five). I didn't bother to video Holby, either: but true to my word I picked up a Mail On Sunday to find that the excellent Jaci Stephen had given it just a few dismissive lines. I was a bit smug on Sunday.
EGGHEADS (BBC 2)
If I was an Egghead I would decline a contract for the next series unless some changes were made to the current format.. It is clear that every pub quiz prizefighter and every up-to-the-neck-in-debt undergraduate in the country has finally hit upon the magic formula: "If we choose to go first, take on C.J. at Geography, Kevin at Food and Drink, Chris at Entertainment. Daphne at Sport and Judith at almost anything, we stand a good chance of knocking out at least two of them. All we have to do then is applaud noisily every correct answer given by one of our team, applaud even more noisily any incorrect answer by one of their team and play up to the presenter who, from the outset, will be on our side."
No, if I was an Egghead I would stipulate that before I signed for another series the only subject in all the head-to-heads would be General Knowledge. Choice of going first or second would be decided by the spin of a coin. And Dermot, the opposition cheer leader, would have to go. That would even things up a bit.
But, lucky Dermot, I'm not an Egghead and it won't ever happen.
Shame.
THE F.A.CUP FINAL. (BBC1)
There was a scuffling and pattering on the stairs to the top floor and I got up slowly from my chair in the computer room on the first (American second) floor. Well, I thought, if it's a burglar he might be tough and you don't want to go too fast towards trouble.
When I reached the doorway the burglar was coming back down the stairs. It was the large white and tabby cat from elsewhere in the neighbourhood. In my Leader's absence he had been up to her top floor workroom to visit the cat Shadow. My Leader calls him Manners because Shadow regularly leaves some food in the cat dish for him. We don't know his real name or where he comes from. He has been about for a long time but still regards me with extreme caution due to my forbidding stare and habit of addressing him as Wotter-youdoin'ere?
I said: "Wotter-youdoin'ere?"
He took off down the stairs to the ground (American first) floor, out through the catflap and across the back courtyard as though I had put out a contract on him.
Moments later the cat Shadow came down.
He eyed me suspiciously. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. He just left."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Now, it's the Cup Final on the box. Want to watch it?"
"Bloody hell no, not while it's sunny outside. I'm off for a stroll."
And he went.
He came back in time to see the winning goal, to remark that the Pensioners probably deserved to win this time and to say that he thought by fifteen minutes into the game the new Wembley pitch resembled a cat's used litter tray.
I've no idea where he went to see what the pitch was like fifteen minutes into the game.
Perhaps to Manners's place?
So it's official then. The jaw-dropping Chancellor will become Prime Minister. Well there's a surprise.
Seems nobody could get enough Brownie points to stand against Brown. To me that says less about his competence to do the job than it does about the number of his colleagues filling their boots at the thought of being listed as his enemies. I suppose somebody will be happy, though, even if it is only him.
I suppose he will win the next election, too. He should. Currently the Blair clone Cameron and his cohorts have decided to announce their disfavour of the grammar school system. It seems that in my lifetime the Socialists have become the Tories and the Tories have become the Socialists. I cannot believe either have executed such a total about face without a liberal measure of vote seeking cynicism. They have not an iota of integrity between them.
However, I seem to remember making a birthday resolution last year that I would never again tax your patience or my blood pressure with politics, politicians or their civil service bosses. As it is there are more than enough Westminster weasels spouting claptrap every day.
ON YOUR BEEB LAST WEEK.
Dalziel and Pascoe finished in even more confusion than it started. Richard E Grant's ability as a hypnotist failed him when it was most needed. Warren Clarke and Colin Buchanan floundered through the quagmire like two actors looking for their parts. Everybody else just sank. Oh well, you can't win 'em all.
Victoria's Empire came to an end with Victoria Wood discovering that big-mouthed radio presenters in New Zealand are no different from those throughout the rest of the world: she then visited Tasmania to learn how colonialism wiped out all the original native inhabitants. By the time she reached Zambia it was clear that a modern English traveller abroad should have learned how to apologize in almost every language known to man. A good series, though.
Holby Blue I missed in favour of Return of the Tribe (an excellent series on Five). I didn't bother to video Holby, either: but true to my word I picked up a Mail On Sunday to find that the excellent Jaci Stephen had given it just a few dismissive lines. I was a bit smug on Sunday.
EGGHEADS (BBC 2)
If I was an Egghead I would decline a contract for the next series unless some changes were made to the current format.. It is clear that every pub quiz prizefighter and every up-to-the-neck-in-debt undergraduate in the country has finally hit upon the magic formula: "If we choose to go first, take on C.J. at Geography, Kevin at Food and Drink, Chris at Entertainment. Daphne at Sport and Judith at almost anything, we stand a good chance of knocking out at least two of them. All we have to do then is applaud noisily every correct answer given by one of our team, applaud even more noisily any incorrect answer by one of their team and play up to the presenter who, from the outset, will be on our side."
No, if I was an Egghead I would stipulate that before I signed for another series the only subject in all the head-to-heads would be General Knowledge. Choice of going first or second would be decided by the spin of a coin. And Dermot, the opposition cheer leader, would have to go. That would even things up a bit.
But, lucky Dermot, I'm not an Egghead and it won't ever happen.
Shame.
THE F.A.CUP FINAL. (BBC1)
There was a scuffling and pattering on the stairs to the top floor and I got up slowly from my chair in the computer room on the first (American second) floor. Well, I thought, if it's a burglar he might be tough and you don't want to go too fast towards trouble.
When I reached the doorway the burglar was coming back down the stairs. It was the large white and tabby cat from elsewhere in the neighbourhood. In my Leader's absence he had been up to her top floor workroom to visit the cat Shadow. My Leader calls him Manners because Shadow regularly leaves some food in the cat dish for him. We don't know his real name or where he comes from. He has been about for a long time but still regards me with extreme caution due to my forbidding stare and habit of addressing him as Wotter-youdoin'ere?
I said: "Wotter-youdoin'ere?"
He took off down the stairs to the ground (American first) floor, out through the catflap and across the back courtyard as though I had put out a contract on him.
Moments later the cat Shadow came down.
He eyed me suspiciously. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. He just left."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Now, it's the Cup Final on the box. Want to watch it?"
"Bloody hell no, not while it's sunny outside. I'm off for a stroll."
And he went.
He came back in time to see the winning goal, to remark that the Pensioners probably deserved to win this time and to say that he thought by fifteen minutes into the game the new Wembley pitch resembled a cat's used litter tray.
I've no idea where he went to see what the pitch was like fifteen minutes into the game.
Perhaps to Manners's place?
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
72. Victoria Wood's Empire and My Detective Blues
VICTORIA's EMPIRE. (BBC1)
So far Victoria Wood's three part series Victoria's Empire has been a winner. In her unique manner she has discovered a great deal about what put the Great into Great Britain. I believe her original opinion was that you cannot go through life apologizing everywhere for the sins of your ancestors. It soon became clear, however, particularly in her examination of British involvement in the slave trade, that the truth does not always sit comfortably.
There were times when she was visibly upset at the dire legacy left by our empire building forefathers.
I hold to the view that there is much in history to be regretted but I cannot change it. Dwelling on the injuries of the past is a pointless exercise and pandering to those who would have us all wearing hair shirts is a nonsense.
Anyway, there's more than enough violence and injustice going on in the world right now. Better start composing our apologies for that. Nobody else will.
DALZIEL & PASCOE (BBC1)
The first of a two part story concluding next Sunday. Warren Clarke is back as Dalziel and Colin Buchanan is (as he has been since 1996) the long-suffering Pascoe. Here they are joined by Richard E. Grant who, no matter how silly the plot may appear to be, will guarantee everyone else acts their socks off to keep up with him.
HOLBY BLUE. (BBC1)
In my wife's The Mail on Sunday - I describe it that way for fear of being mistaken as the purchaser - that much admired and experienced critic Jaci Stephen gave The Last Detective a right roasting. 'Even Roger Daltrey from The Who...didn't manage to alleviate the boredom,' she opined.
Gosh. I didn't think it was that bad: guess I'm just easily pleased.
I wonder what she thought of the Beeb's new series Holby Blue?
Perhaps I shall have to suffer next Sunday's Mail to find out.
I thought it was everything she thought 'Dangerous' Davies was.
I thought it was stereotypic tripe which not even Tim Pigott-Smith could save.
I thought: NYPD Blue it ain't!
So far Victoria Wood's three part series Victoria's Empire has been a winner. In her unique manner she has discovered a great deal about what put the Great into Great Britain. I believe her original opinion was that you cannot go through life apologizing everywhere for the sins of your ancestors. It soon became clear, however, particularly in her examination of British involvement in the slave trade, that the truth does not always sit comfortably.
There were times when she was visibly upset at the dire legacy left by our empire building forefathers.
I hold to the view that there is much in history to be regretted but I cannot change it. Dwelling on the injuries of the past is a pointless exercise and pandering to those who would have us all wearing hair shirts is a nonsense.
Anyway, there's more than enough violence and injustice going on in the world right now. Better start composing our apologies for that. Nobody else will.
DALZIEL & PASCOE (BBC1)
The first of a two part story concluding next Sunday. Warren Clarke is back as Dalziel and Colin Buchanan is (as he has been since 1996) the long-suffering Pascoe. Here they are joined by Richard E. Grant who, no matter how silly the plot may appear to be, will guarantee everyone else acts their socks off to keep up with him.
HOLBY BLUE. (BBC1)
In my wife's The Mail on Sunday - I describe it that way for fear of being mistaken as the purchaser - that much admired and experienced critic Jaci Stephen gave The Last Detective a right roasting. 'Even Roger Daltrey from The Who...didn't manage to alleviate the boredom,' she opined.
Gosh. I didn't think it was that bad: guess I'm just easily pleased.
I wonder what she thought of the Beeb's new series Holby Blue?
Perhaps I shall have to suffer next Sunday's Mail to find out.
I thought it was everything she thought 'Dangerous' Davies was.
I thought it was stereotypic tripe which not even Tim Pigott-Smith could save.
I thought: NYPD Blue it ain't!
Saturday, May 05, 2007
71. Yesterdays, Yasmin A-B, 'Dangerous' and a dozy cat
YOU CAN'T HELP WONDERING.
The recent discovery of a pile of old snapshots has set me off again
One of the troubles with knocking on a bit is that you find yourself recalling people with whom you lost touch many years ago. It happens suddenly and indiscriminately and is a thoroughly pointless exercise because those you remember will either have kicked the bucket or, if they are still alive, would probably pass you in the street without a second glance.
Buoyed on by the millions to one chance recorded in my last post, however, I was tempted to publish a list of oft-recalled names from the past and take a chance that one or more of them would see it or hear about it from somebody who did.
But you can't go back.
As I said, those who are still alive would probably not recognize me. If they did they might not wish to know me. I seem to remember being the sort of young man I would find hard to tolerate now.
You can't help wondering, though, can you?
ANOTHER BROADSIDE FROM A CLASSY COLUMNIST.
Yasmin Alibhai-Brown was in full flow again in The Independent last Monday. In an article entitled A digital bedlam of narcissism and bullying she wrote of her fears that the internet is fast becoming a menace to our culture. People can have terrible power, she maintained: "Today they blast away in their blogs to threaten, libel, bully, intimidate and turn freedom itself into a hostage."
Oh dear.
Perhaps it is because I am not a professional soothsayer that I find it hard to attach importance to the outpourings of incensed Bloggerdom. I simply ignore anything that savours of bloggerdegook or gratuitous effing and blinding or blatant intimidation.
My own prejudices (pro - my Leader, my family, anything decent on the tele and J.K.Rowling; anti - all politicians national and local together with their advisers, anything smelling of reality television and anybody who feels they have a right to rule me) are quite enough to keep me grinning or growling to the grave. That some acid head in America, daft digger in Australia or barmpot in Barnsley might fancy bringing down World Order neither interests nor alarms me. I suppose a few sadsacks will read and believe them, but their supporters will surely be fewer than those who listened to and believed Adolf Hitler or, for that matter, Margaret Thatcher. You cannot legislate against them with any success and you'll lose an awful lot of sleep if you let them worry you.
Ever since I saw her face up to what I took to be a BNP infiltrated audience on Question Time a couple or so years ago I have had considerable respect for Yasmin A-B. She's a classy columnist and a doughty little scrapper and I shall continue to support her absolute right to deliver the hefty broadside; even when I think she's talking tosh.
THE LAST DETECTIVE (ITV1)
'Dangerous' Davies (Peter Davison) is back in a new series. Only the characters bear any relationship to Leslie Thomas's stories now, but writer Matthew Thomas and director Nick Laughland kept to the spirit of the original works and the result was very satisfying.
It bodes well for a series that, as well as attracting back regulars like Sean Hughes, Emma Amos and Charles De'ath, it can welcome the likes of Roger Daltrey, Anthony Valentine and John Shrapnel as guests.
I hope ol' Leslie T. enjoyed it.
I certainly did.
SO MUCH FOR SNOOKER AND SOCCER.
It has been World Snooker from The Crucible at Sheffield on BBC2 again over the past fortnight. I find it makes a decent stand-in while I'm waiting for something I really want to see on the box and an excellent replacement for all the usual daytime rubbish.
The cat Shadow believes it is a game invented to lull a cat to sleep, preferably on my lap or in my Leader's chair. So he has had a very restful couple of weeks. He didn't even look up when Milan knocked Manchester United out of the Champions League and when I relayed the result to him he just grunted.
So much for snooker and soccer.
The recent discovery of a pile of old snapshots has set me off again
One of the troubles with knocking on a bit is that you find yourself recalling people with whom you lost touch many years ago. It happens suddenly and indiscriminately and is a thoroughly pointless exercise because those you remember will either have kicked the bucket or, if they are still alive, would probably pass you in the street without a second glance.
Buoyed on by the millions to one chance recorded in my last post, however, I was tempted to publish a list of oft-recalled names from the past and take a chance that one or more of them would see it or hear about it from somebody who did.
But you can't go back.
As I said, those who are still alive would probably not recognize me. If they did they might not wish to know me. I seem to remember being the sort of young man I would find hard to tolerate now.
You can't help wondering, though, can you?
ANOTHER BROADSIDE FROM A CLASSY COLUMNIST.
Yasmin Alibhai-Brown was in full flow again in The Independent last Monday. In an article entitled A digital bedlam of narcissism and bullying she wrote of her fears that the internet is fast becoming a menace to our culture. People can have terrible power, she maintained: "Today they blast away in their blogs to threaten, libel, bully, intimidate and turn freedom itself into a hostage."
Oh dear.
Perhaps it is because I am not a professional soothsayer that I find it hard to attach importance to the outpourings of incensed Bloggerdom. I simply ignore anything that savours of bloggerdegook or gratuitous effing and blinding or blatant intimidation.
My own prejudices (pro - my Leader, my family, anything decent on the tele and J.K.Rowling; anti - all politicians national and local together with their advisers, anything smelling of reality television and anybody who feels they have a right to rule me) are quite enough to keep me grinning or growling to the grave. That some acid head in America, daft digger in Australia or barmpot in Barnsley might fancy bringing down World Order neither interests nor alarms me. I suppose a few sadsacks will read and believe them, but their supporters will surely be fewer than those who listened to and believed Adolf Hitler or, for that matter, Margaret Thatcher. You cannot legislate against them with any success and you'll lose an awful lot of sleep if you let them worry you.
Ever since I saw her face up to what I took to be a BNP infiltrated audience on Question Time a couple or so years ago I have had considerable respect for Yasmin A-B. She's a classy columnist and a doughty little scrapper and I shall continue to support her absolute right to deliver the hefty broadside; even when I think she's talking tosh.
THE LAST DETECTIVE (ITV1)
'Dangerous' Davies (Peter Davison) is back in a new series. Only the characters bear any relationship to Leslie Thomas's stories now, but writer Matthew Thomas and director Nick Laughland kept to the spirit of the original works and the result was very satisfying.
It bodes well for a series that, as well as attracting back regulars like Sean Hughes, Emma Amos and Charles De'ath, it can welcome the likes of Roger Daltrey, Anthony Valentine and John Shrapnel as guests.
I hope ol' Leslie T. enjoyed it.
I certainly did.
SO MUCH FOR SNOOKER AND SOCCER.
It has been World Snooker from The Crucible at Sheffield on BBC2 again over the past fortnight. I find it makes a decent stand-in while I'm waiting for something I really want to see on the box and an excellent replacement for all the usual daytime rubbish.
The cat Shadow believes it is a game invented to lull a cat to sleep, preferably on my lap or in my Leader's chair. So he has had a very restful couple of weeks. He didn't even look up when Milan knocked Manchester United out of the Champions League and when I relayed the result to him he just grunted.
So much for snooker and soccer.
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