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That wretched hour.
Again the half yearly muck about with the clocks. Forward an hour this time. Why?
A theory is that it’s for Scottish farmers. But they’ve got electricity up there, haven’t they? And don’t they have machines to milk the cows nowadays?
So why are millions of non-rural folk currently losing an hour’s sleep in the mornings and bundling little kids off to bed in broad daylight?
Cannot the pillocks-in-power be persuaded on a compromise?
Why don’t we just knock half an hour off the time next autumn and never change the bloody clocks again?
That wretched election.
So, the election is to be on Thursday 6th May, eh? Can’t say the prospect excites me.
Well, we either vote for the bunch that has been too long in power now, or the crowd that was too long in power before them, don‘t we?.
You pays your taxes and you takes your choice.
One thing for sure, whoever gets in can be relied upon to put up taxes and forget their promises. I wouldn’t trust any of ’em with my grandson’s money box.
Johann Hari wrote an excellent article (As Britain ages, will generational conflict dominate our politics?) in The Independent on the day before the PM went to HM.
In a lively and sympathetic defence of old Boomers, the journalist deftly dismantled Tory front-bencher David Willetts who, it seems, has written a book blaming the old for taking too big a slice of the nation’s financial pie.
Mr. Hari slyly suggests that the £20bn more needed in support of the elderly by 2017 could be covered by simply recovering the £25bn in tax which the super-rich currently avoid or evade each year.
In the same paper, Andreas Whittam Smith, with an article entitled The triumph of political mendacity, did a fine demolition job on New Labour Chancellor Alistair Darling.
Mr. Darling, he concluded, lacks respect for the electorate and is not alone among politicians in so doing. Mr. Darling, it seems, is nobody’s darling.
He will give a little with one hand and take back a lot with the other.
Even more galling, he will be convinced that we won’t notice
My favourite start to the month of balderdash we shall now endure, however, was John Humphrys interview with Neil Kinnock (BBC Radio 4 Tuesday 6th April) in which the two Welshmen debated whether Gordon Brown would or would not be a liability to his party in the forthcoming election.
Lovely stuff.
They sounded like two old guys in a pub in Pontypridd.
A trill too far?
After commending Della Reese’s interpretation of The Story of a Starry Night I broke a personal house rule and bought The Classic Della CD.
My Leader looked unsure but did not demur. Her uncertainty was not without foundation. (Post 96 refers) I have a collection of CDs containing one or two tracks to which I actually listen: the rest, no matter how appealing they may be to devotees of the particular artiste concerned, are not to my taste and regularly suffer the skip button.
Della was primarily a jazz singer (hear Cleo Laine). It is my loss that I am not a jazz fan.
An excellent collection for anybody who is, though.
In later discussion with Maureen I said that her initial doubts about the CD, though unexpressed, had been apparent.
She conceded that she had wondered whether twenty four tracks would be a trill too far.
Ah.
TELEVISION.
Doctor Who (New series).
All hail the youngest Doctor to breeze onto the scene since William ‘Billy’ Hartnell first graced our screens in 1963.
On the evidence of episode 1 alone, Matt Smith is the ideal replacement for David Tennant, who was one helluva hard act to follow.
The young Doctor has also acquired lovely Amy Pond (Karen Gillan) as his travelling companion (presumably ‘assistant’ is no longer a PC description).
This first episode was really Amy’s story: writer Steven Moffat cleverly used the updating of the Tardis and its time traveller to show how a brave little girl, Amelia (Caitlin Blackwood), became a feisty young woman, Amy, in the twelve years that it took the Doctor to get back from his ‘I’ll only be gone five minutes’ first encounter with her.
Casting and production have got it right again: this team is nigh on perfect.
Jonathan Creek.
Writer David Renwick’s likeable character, played by likeable Alan Davies, re-emerged at last to tackle another bizarre mystery. This time a one-off.
It was the same old, fondly remembered, formula. But for me, once again, there was something missing.
It was not the unbelievable plot and it was not the entire reel of loose ends, both of which were much in evidence.
No, what was missing (and has been for far too long) was Carolyn Quentin.
All the other Jonathan baiters have been good, but Carolyn was the best.
If there is ever another series, she really should be in it.
A Touch of Frost.
Jack came back in a final two-parter, He fell in love with and married RSPCA Inspector Christine Moorhead, played by Phyllis Logan (who, I seem to remember, once played the love of DCI Matt Burke’s life in Taggart).
Of course it all had to end in high drama: how else, with Adrian Dunbar and George Costigan in the cast?
Pity the producers felt the need to make public their decision to film three endings and leave the choice of which would be screened to David Jason.
He chose well enough, but it savoured of another of those ghastly reality shows which would end with the three threatened characters standing in the spotlight while an off-screen voice intoned: “And the first character chosen not to die tonight is...“
Long - long - long - long pause…
“David!”
(Cut to a delighted Jason. Switch to show Bruce Alexander and John Lyons applauding and trying to look like good sports.)
It was otherwise a decent Frost yarn and a fitting farewell to the long running favourite.
Question Time.
The last time I saw this it came from Stevenage and the panel consisted of three members of parliament, a Daily Mail columnist, and (for the sake of sanity) Victoria Coren.
She came across as unbiased.
Say no more.
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