Showing posts with label Top Gear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Top Gear. Show all posts

Sunday, 20 February 2011

What's that smell coming off my telly. Outcasts, Secret Diaries & Master Chef

Sometimes you just wish you didn't bother. This week was one of those times. After at least a fortnight, that's two weeks for those of you in the colonies, I was finally cured of  Egyptitis. However chuffed to bits I am for the people of Egypt and Tunisia and feel deeply the pain of the others still protesting, my reality came calling when I realized I had missed the well flogged and highly anticipated Outcasts on the BBC, Secret Diary of a Call girl on ITV with wor Billie Piper and Masterchef was finally returning with more foodie heaven. What a brilliant way to get back from all that life affirming people's revolution and watershed moments in your life stuff. So there I was all set with my chocies and cookies and big bowl of other assorted edibles to keep my hands busy.   

At first we eased our way into the iPlayer treasure trove of wonderfulness with a little nature programming. BBC's Natural World which  as best as I can figure, is designed to make you cry as early as possible before they tell you the dread situation the ( monkeys, tigers, Iraqi marshes etc...) are in, could be reversible if only we as a civilizations aren't complete gormless twats or greedy self indulgent yuppies. All that's missing is the web site where you can donate cash or volunteer help.   A tiger called broken tail, started the gut wrenching journey with the story of a dead tiger who's demise is expected to lead to more sanctuaries and the linking of said sanctuaries to the famous tiger highway. We then moved on to The chimps of the lost gorge, in which we find out that chimps are increasingly cut off from other chimps what with the shrinking jungles of Uganda, rounding the evening off the true story of Elsa the Lioness and the Miracle of the Iraqi marshes which were less tear inducing. Good thing too, as the tissue box was by now empty. These films are beautiful hour long compendia of misery and doom highlighting the knife's edge on which most of the "canary in a coal mine" animals and habitats are existing on. There are only so many tears one can cry and for my wife's sake if not my own, we switched to something more cheerful like budget cuts in review.

Now just because we watched the news channel near obsessively for what seemed like a month but was in fact 18 days,... that IS a long time isn't' it?  Does not mean we stopped watching the must see programmes like Top Gear, Qi XL and the one awards show where sweaty young boys and tone deaf 12 year old girls are not responsible for guiding billions of pounds in advertising and production money into cultural content. I'm talking of course about the film Baftas, having passed on the Brits as they haven't been relevant to me since the last year Bjork was given an award as incentive to show up and be weird for a few minutes.  Having James Corden present and Justin Bieber win best new comer, so I'm told, is enough to prove there is no intelligent life left in popular music. The Film Baftas were an oasis of  sanity and culture that helped me set my check list of films I hadn't yet seen, but must try to make time for.  What a novel idea, letting the industry types vote for what they consider the best of their craft. As for Top Gear, you can always play gaffe of the week, but sadly I'm immune to the sensitivity required to be a charter member of the Ofcom complaint writers guild. See I was born in an age when people still had a sense of humour,which of course is not to say I didn't enjoy the pin pushing done by presenters and guests alike in the last two weeks. These tempests in the tea pot aside, Top Gear is still as funny and as informative as it ever was. The fact that you cannot buy three identical classic cars ( that's auto mobiles not penises for all you Albanians) convertible BMW 325s to be precise, was a revelations. The sort of things people will do to and in a car over the years is to say the least, eye opening if not inducing hazmat suit wearing.  I sincerely hope the humour free stick in the muds who seem to take special joy in finding fault with Clarkson and co give it a rest. We can't all be so relentlessly dreary like they are. If we were, Cromwell might still be in power instead of being lumped in with other visionaries like Hitler and the Spanish Inquisition.

It's at this point I though maybe I should get around to watching all that quality I had missed in the last two or three weeks. Up first was the long awaited Outcasts. Word of advice, never get so pre sold on a programme that you'll be disappointed if they don't have fireworks shooting out their arses. Maybe if I had not been so starved of decent adult science fiction, I might have appreciated the more subtle characterisations of Outcasts, but as it is, I was too distracted by the one dimensional loonies and psycho killers who are dropped into the more delicate narrative like anvils onto a soufflĂ©. First sledge hammer was the highly unhinged and unsympathetic Mitchell who decided not to murder all the ACs. Was it absolutely necessary to make a potentially interesting character who could challenge President Tate, into a barking mad killer who lives in place with a population of one? Having got rid of the only natural opponent to the established leader of New Australia, the writers introduce the vacant eyed even more stark raving mad Julius Berger. Besides casting an actor who's such a "Hitler's wet dream" as a Jew,  the forced nature of his rise in prominence and the fake religion he espouses is both unsettling and regrettable to me. His so called faith is forced and reminiscent of the sort of cult worship you only see in the truly lost, yet it is portrayed as mainstream. Berger is made to evolve far too quickly and his inclusion in the colony's power structure is so unrealistic that you feel like the production team added Berger in the last minute and had to alter entire sections of story to make him fit in. The other thing that truly and deeply annoys and bores me to tears about Outcasts is for the zillionth time we destroy the Earth in a Nuclear and ecological disaster. Maybe it's the fact that I'm just off a month of watching all of North Africa rise as one to dump it's dictators and tell the West to stop treating them like some kind of dispensable pawns who would otherwise impact on the greater self interest of the industrialists bankers and other greedy bastards that have led us to the brink of disaster in the name of profit and ideology, but I'm frankly tired of the End of the World is nigh stuff. How many more times must we use the same tired old premise of eradicating life on Earth to make so called adult science fiction. This was old hat when Space 1999, a far superior programme in my opinion, hit the airwaves in 1975. I fondly recall the lovely shape shifter Maya who gave a young man in the 70's some hope that not all aliens were ugly or evil. Several recent attempts in America and the UK have tread on this well beaten path with about as much success as Peter Andre at a Lesbian convention, and yet they persist in trying this route. At least when the Daleks took over the Earth you had the compelling and truly scary picture of Nazi Germany loosely disguised as emotion free killer pepper pots. In Outcasts, the people are boring, the town looks like Gazza city but without the spark of life even an under pressure population has. And precisely how will they maintain a series let alone a few if no new people will ever again show up?  To quote a mate, "Oh here come some more people we didn't tell you about last week". Even the ACs (clones) are a bit hard to swallow. We're led to believe they were exiled in the barren tech free hinterland for the last 5 years or more. So how is that Ruddy has such well groomed hair and perfectly maintained 5 o'clock shadow? It would be easy to buy into if I was told they were slightly less shambling zombies who don't age or rot, but they are humans of some kind. Even Ruddy's jeans are in better nick than mine after one year of wearing, clearly he's shopping at Harrod's or Maison Zombie by Gucci. So other than the sudden and unexplained re emergence of Earth, the sudden unexplained appearance of total strangers like on old Battlestar Galactica, sexy shape shifters (Space 1999) or actual indigenous inhabitants who have been on Carpathia for millennia, there is no way you can sustain this longer than a single series.

And if all that wasn't enough , the stories are a bit contrived. In the first ep it's painfully obvious from the first time that the arrivals will only land on Carpathian if they enjoy being plunging fireballs travelling at a few hundred miles an hour. At least the whale in Hitch Hikers Galaxy was funny.  You never once were given the sense that they might after all, make it. So why bother at all? In the last one I watched, Lilly the daughter of the security chief acts up in a way so petty and unreal that you wonder if the writers are themselves barely out of puberty. Surely there are more ways to annoy your mother than steal state secrets and give them to the only media outlet in the place. The DJ/drug dealer loosely based I guess on the radio man in Northern Exposure and Shane MacGowan if he'd still had his teeth and wasn't ugly, is hard to read and hard to care for. On the one hand he treats The Sex Pistols albums like the royal jewels  then in a scene of self pity breaks a record, then is made to cooperate when one of the ultra precious records is threatened with destruction.The other massive inconsistency is that somehow they have after 10 years on Carpathia managed not to adopt a single old fashioned way of doing things like in other subsistence communities. Not a candle or windmill to be seen, every home is so well equipped, you'd think you were in a modern suburb in Tokyo or Berlin. Everybody has the internet and perfect clear telly. Even at the main buildings, the lekky never once flickers or wavers like in real places just hanging on by their fingernails. It's not all bad news. If you like to watch in fits and starts, you'll like the Cass ( Satan in Ashes to Ashes) and Fleur (somebody must be Harry Potter fan) characters. These two  are really interesting and the only reason I bothered sticking with the show at all. I cannot find words that show the depth of disappointment I feel after having looked forward to this rubbish for so long. A brilliant, expensive cast is wasted on this badly written premise that seems to have been surgically altered by committee long before the filming started. Perhaps science fiction in the UK is doomed to be nothing more than a string of sitcoms in space and Doctor Who spin-offs.

Oh well, maybe Secret Diary of a Call Girl will satisfy my desire for semi entertaining telly, even if it is on ITV.  Here it comes.... credits rolling....... Shit, feck, damn.... Belle is going to run the agency for Stephanie, her ex madam is in jail and her ex madam's daughter Polly who knows not a thing  of her mother's business is stopping at Belle's for a while. Much hilarity ensues.  What for every series till now was a string of semi comic semi serious moments connected with our Billie taking her kit off for some soft core sex, has become a mixed up mess sitcom blended with looming tragedy from the clearly unhinged detective who is now stalking Belle. We're now so busy worrying about the psycho killer ( where have I seen this before?) that we don't have time to really see her and Ben work out if she'll stop being on the game and become a regular ubber wealthy Londoner or continue selling herself in private, as opposed to say becoming a trashy Katie Price whore with no decency or decorum. I'm sure Belle is shaved down there too but she won't talk about it with her children in the audience, But I digress...   We were promised "funnier" sex and a decent wrap up of the Belle story, but I never expected it to turn into Luther with the occasional stand in baps. It's bad when you take Billie Piper naked, sexy clothes, thrown in some great locations and the occasional bit of humour and still you find yourself wondering just how quickly the show will come to an end. The young actress playing the innocent daughter of the locked up Madam, is sexy, dresses sexy and  is clearly ready for some interesting stories involving actual men, but so far nothing. She's just eye candy that walks through scenes doing nothing to move the story along. Are you being served was more titillating in it's time and still managed to hold together as a programme at it's height. Clearly this last series of Diary is one series too far. ITV was hoping for one last kick at the can of the cash cow that is Billie Piper, but sadly it just doesn't work. The sex for a start is  contrived, I've seen better porn when the pizza man arrives or the secretary suddenly feels the need to work semi naked at her desk. As for the alleged comic interference of the various working girls, including the very S&M oriental woman, it's poorly placed and more often than not, formulaic. The Ben- Belle - Poppy (Lily James) triangle is left to lay there on the floor being trampled on by all the trollops, the bent psychotic DCI (Paul Nichols) and frankly pointless filler moments that serve only to pad out the already all too brief 22 minutes of actual programme. If Polly is supposed to be 14 or 15, I'm a Sunderland supporter. Much as I am pleased for the actress playing her, she's far too old and too sexy to be an innocent young thing that Ben can ignore. Sargent Psycho is so completely out of place that he jumps right past occasional danger to Hitchcock bad guy that is never comfortable in an alleged comedy.  Sex on British television has moved on past the 70's Oh Matron! Profumo style of teasing and the more casual full on short of penetration scenes, seen on other programmes, do sex far better than Secret Diary is doing in this last series. They should have gone for the real thing or stayed at the line they established last series. I'd like to say I'm going to watch the rest, but honestly it's not worth the time. Life is short and if you feel you need to fill it with this kind of televised mess over say going for a walk or reading a book or even oooo having sex with a real live lady, you are indeed a sad and lonely person. If however you are 14 and looking for cheap thrills, I recommend you look in your father's  hard drive under tax files 2002, the equally dull WIP15a33 or perhaps your older brother's smart phone for his ex girlfriend naked, much better pickings there.

Still no happiness in goggle box land, there's always Master Chef! Thousands of people have auditioned to be on MC and we'll be be bringing that down to the 20 we need for the series starting tonight. Oh Dear.... Then a stream of vaguely interesting "regular" folk and their families in the studio, are made to watch each other cook for 45 minutes until they meet John Torode and Gregg Wallace in the judges room. At least we're spared the full details of every auditionee's cooking, but still we get the full spectacle of nans, mams and bairns banging on about how it would mean the world if "insert name of desperate hapless amateur" got an apron. The then less than appetizing array of dishes served up for Jaunty Roads and Pudding boy to struggle with seems to go on for ever, punctuated by the occasional manufactured conflict over a perfectly fine plate of food. They then look for "interesting" see loonies and nutters, to included to round out things, meaning that the more traditional cooks who aren't 100%, get dropped and the experimental ones are passed through. The vegan woman who makes faces will be fun when she has to cook something that doesn't have roots attached to it. Having seen this stage of the American Master Chef last year, I can honestly say that as uninspiring as the food was at times, even the cat sick de-constructed trifle was still better than the endless mac and cheeses, mock Mexican , appalling deep fried southern food and not bouillabaisse on offer in the US version. What the UK version only hinted at but was in full flower in the US one, was the begging, crying, jumping and posturing we were spared. And yet it was still too much. We could have had more cooking and less maudlin reaction shots more at home on X factor than Master Chef. If I am to even choose one of these people to cheer for, I am hard pressed to find more than two who seem anywhere close to being good enough for Master Chef.  Just when did cooking become the new way out of the ghetto? Aside from a few laughs I had the expense of some truly awful cooks, I can't say this was the Master Chef I was expecting. I wanted skill on display, I wanted invention tests that took the cook out of his or her comfort zone from the start, I wanted some exceptional candidates. Instead we got 25 year mum from Reading who cries, Gastro pub Pete who serves raw fish, Scary Cockney James, who was on the verge of talking about a "field of ponies" and selling himself that much, Miss Swansea Alice, Nutter Mark with his tofu fish and chips and some guy named Dan who may be the only one who knows how to cook. The number of recipes nicked from celeb chef cookbooks and last years Master Chef Pro was awe inspiring. One of the plates looked like it had been copied badly hundreds of times since they saw it first last year ( boules de Berlin in case you were wondering).

Next week we get the competition well and truly under way when the 20 persons they mostly scraped off the back of a spatula, enter the big kitchen stadium. What are they going to do, hide a sniper in the rafter or maybe operate trap doors whenever some chef wanabe nicks yet another recipe from Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay? Oh look she's wrapping everything in bacon!  Shoot her quick before it catches on. There's another doing bloody fish and chips AGAIN!!! Oh No Chirizo sausage, cos there is no other kind,  BANG.  Gregg I don't do puddings  ZZZAPPPPPP. Burned to a crisp meat.... EXTERMINATE!!! I'll be doing a new twist on roast beef and butter chicken....Death's too good for them! Even the level of skill on display in Celebrity Master Chef with Dick Strawbridge and horrid Tory hostess was better than this lot. I've set my expectations to yeah sure for next week, but will not be surprised if the level of quality just doesn't get any tougher than this. Gregg and John will be hard pressed to find a top 5 anywhere near good enough keep us interested well into the finals. The new format has sacrificed all the elements that kept us foodies glued to our screens from the first candidate to the last plate of food. It may have worked in Australia and the American version was geared at the great unwashed who as always, wanted to see equal doses of pathos and the great culinary traditions (such as they are) of the deep South yet again prevail over anything that passes for food in New York. The new series of the revamped Master Chef UK is off to a bad start and looks to be on a collision course with foodies who will vote with their off switches just like when we stopped watching the fatally flawed The Restaurant. If it doesn't get better fast, I will be finding even more time to watch something else on BBC4 or maybe from my vast collection of unwatched recordings for "when I have time". Master Chef was the last refuge where the skilled went to become more skilled and provide viewers with enough thrills and information to insure their own food rose a notch or two. This new version owes more to Ready Steady Twat than it does Master Chef. I just hope Gregg and John are getting hazard pay for the food they are about to eat, I like them and want them to be around for the next proper Master Chef, you know the one after this mess.


To paraphrase Prince Charles, "The things I do for my readers". I don't want you, dear reader leaving this space totally down hearted, I can continue to recommend The Danish crime thriller The Killing on BBC4 and for the more historically minded, C4's Rome wasn't built in a day. In this fly on the wall documentary we follow a group of builders who use traditional Roman methods and materials to build a Roman villa for English Heritage. Much more interesting than you'd think and the final result is something you'll want to get in your car and visit.

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

New Stig grows up, Sky lost some weight, and I learned some Danish

And on the 38th day new Stig  instructed his first star in a reasonably priced car. New Stig was finally allowed out of his cage after having eaten the raw meat Jezza had left for him. Amazing how quickly they grow up. As Clarkson remarked, he'll soon be old enough to present Countryfile.  Top Gear got stuck in with it's latest run of school boy humour and thinly disguised genuine consumer information. I for example know that my future all terrain vehicle should be a Skoda Yeti. I will however probably still go for a classic Land Rover or even a gentrified Toyota Hilux if I can. Not missing a beat, Top Gear presenters searched for new ways of poking humourless twats with a pointed stick. Funny Scouse man accused of stealing tyres, Stig elevated to the status of Jesus replacement,  Cap'n Slow made to look a div, wait that's not a crime, just a stated goal. Ironically, this is the same man who can tell you the most about the cars  should you care to ask. Richard "Hamster" Hammond  tries to prove the Porsche 911  is in fact the best car in the world and more than the sum of the parts of a Beetle from whence it came. I for one was convinced by his arguments, having been in several proper poor people bugs in my life for extended lengths of time. I think dropping a cheap car from a crane was hardly a fair test of speed was it? Besides maybe the Autobahn and dying, the only good thing Hitler ever did, the Volkswagen Beetle is hardly the model of reliability or comfort or technical advancement. The Porsche 911 on the other hand is still the only car I'd consider having that satisfies my inner douche bag and thrill seeker. While the Jag is in fact a car for somebody who can drive over small pets and garden beds, the Porsche will do it and not even try to apologize.   Why should it? It is a mechanical marvel that moves like a wild cat on the hunt. The noises it makes sound like what I thought a car should sound like when I was 8 years old. As a boy I aspired to a Porsche, as a man I now aspire to a Jag or maybe an Astin Martin, unlike some people, |I don't want to others to think I'm the kind of person who would drive a Porsche. Now if I could borrow the Stig's skin...

About that new Stig. He's still  white, drives even better than sacked Stig, seems to be more content and doesn't bite like the old one. I think perhaps this one's a keeper, he may even last longer that the last two put together. Just to be clear, whoever the new Stig is, he's now part of one of the oldest , most entertaining car magazines on telly ever. He will meet stars and drive fast cars and get paid for it presumably really well for as long as he wants to. If this one also does a diva, it may be time to bury the Stig once and for all. Seems some people are more interested in sudden piles of money over sustained respectable pay and loads of perks you won't get for being an ex-Stig.

New to our screens from BBC 2, Charlie Brooker's How TV ruined your life, a weekly look at how TV took a perfectly nice life and this week, has scared the hell out of us for 60 years. The point of the show was to demonstrate just how mad the paranoia and fear had gotten from public service spots that pointed out every danger lurking out there past your door and in your living room, to crime programmes that purported to show just how bad the the criminals were. If the news is to be believed , we are always on the brink of the final dissolution of humanity as we know it.  His pens catching fire parody was brilliant stopping just short of being repetitive and pointless. Breaking news used to mean something had happened, but with 24 hour news, we were treated to Gaza shouting "Moaty Moaty Moaty"  and explaining why he had brought fried chicken, lager and a fishing pole for his "old mate".  If I want to stay relaxed and fear free I try to watch BBC news only a few times a day and avoid the soul sucking misery of unending failure in the world. I know news is news, but it's not all bad news is it? South Sudan voted last week. We saw one day of nice peaceful story, then nothing for a week, then twice in as many days , some Northern nomads killed 30 people and the BBC war machine was in full gear. Thankfully for South Sudan it's remained for the most part a dull uneventful story.   Uneventful that is except for all those people getting on with their lives and building a new country without recourse to death and dismemberment. Perhaps if more watched less sensationalist filler, some of them would be less inclined to report Jeremy Clarkson to ofcom for crimes against alleged human decency. Some of you may recall that on the back of one complaint, decades after the song came out, you can't play Money for nothing in Canada, because of the "dirty little faggot" reference.  If you've ever heard the song, you are my age, if you are worshipping Ellie Goulding's murder of Elton's "Your song", you're probably wondering why anybody would ever say an offensive thing ever to anybody , even jest.  Watch the video, you'll see it's not even homophobic, just a good song. So when did one person's opinion mean we should all suffer? Where was I?  Charlie Brooker, yeah,  good show, watch it.

Speaking of offensive words on telly..... no I don't mean Kay Burley saying anything on any subject, Andy Gray (sacked) and Richard Keys (apologized and resigned), both now late of Sky Sports, landed in a cauldron of trouble over sexist remarks about lineswoman, Sian Massey 25,  (see also remarks about Theo Walcott) before the match even kicked off. It all got a bit sordid as a series of further of air remarks were found and broadcast to the delight of the people who disliked the the duo. Sky sports reacted well enough at first, but hardly seem to take this seriously at first , then went entirely the other way and sacked Andy Gray. Seems you're fine till you get caught out. A few simple truths in broadcasting. All mikes and cameras are to be treated as live at all times. Saves you a great deal of embarrassment. Never put down in writing just how big a twat you are. And lastly, you're only as good as your last good deed or rating and scandal of any kind will wipe the slate clean in entirely the wrong way. All lessons at least one of these men has not learned. While I do not applaud the creation of super cautious PC man, the death of Neanderthal footie man is long overdue. My wife loves football, it's a huge part of why we get along. She gets it, she understands the offside rule, well the one before the new one which confuses even the players and the officials now. You would be shocked to hear what she used to say about Arsenal and Chelsea supporters, would have made a Millwall fan seem,... no  too strong, ... a Leeds fan, seem realistic.  That said, the powers that be at Sky sport need to understand that women have been following football in droves for at least a decade now, gone are the times that every vagina in the room left at the sound of the pre game show.  I suspect the fancy fan who supported a side ONLY because [name of footballer] is fit,  is long dead or blended in with the male version more concerned with the run of play and the general direction and placement of ones team in the table. The hypocrisy of Sky speaks volumes however, when you compare the numerous times people like myself have called for the incredibly justifiable sacking of Kay Burley, and been ignored. This woman who claims to be a journalist has done enough to be sacked 10 times were she a man or even a gay Asian uni-legged agnostic hermaphroditic creature working at a real news channel. Where is the justice when caveman sports twit gets the sack  but Versace sledge hammer stays?

On the subject of genteel, better times when even the nut-cases were held to a certain standard of decorum and behaviour, Lark Rise to Candleford on Sunday was a treat. Dorcas has finally got some action going and Postman Thomas has his absolute shield of faith and somewhat too sure certainty punctured, revealing a very scared little man who seems to have finally had to deal with his own personal demons. The scene where he looses his religion was so sincere I had no idea where it was going from there. The use of the snake in paradise wasn't wasted or over the top in the least bit. Yet again, Larkrise shows that good writing is the key to wringing out truthful performances from these well trained actors and actresses. Stand out performance of the night had to be Curtis Brown (Thomas) in the faith story line with an equally strong performance from character actor Burn Gorman and former Torchwood regular, playing the trouble reverend. Oh and still no sign of Dawn French.

Yet again BBC4 wins a big fat nothing, yes you're watching the National Television Awards , the award show for text voting pond scum who haven't quite learned to spell yet. How else do you explain Qi v I'm a Celebrity? Oh well, every year I sit down an d think , maybe this year Stephen Fry will win something for his current work, but no. Benidorm and In Betweeners won which is ok as it's not about pretty people or unscripted, thank you both for making us laugh. And....big drum roll....... Top Gear has the love of geeks, intellects and the great unwashed, all rolled into to one. Despite being fact free for for 7 years now, Top Gear has entertained all levels of viewer and in so doing showing living proof you can be smart funny, un hip and still be a winner. Three middle age men falling over indeed , Congratulations, at least one or two of my shows made the grade! Sherlock, Ashes to Ashes, Doctor Who, Touch of Frost ?!! all in one category ! David Jason wins for Touch of Frost, and well deserving he is. At least this one they couldn't get wrong.  Lastly, Mr Show-business himself, Bruce Forsyth got the lifetime achievement award from last year's winner Stephen Fry. Brucie is an institution and anybody who thinks he's past his sell by date needs to have a quick look at what this man can do even  now. Sad but true, Louis Spence is no replacement for an all rounder comic, singer dancer actor go to guy who can handle any live situation.  Since I was little, Brucie has entertained out family in a bewildering array of programmes over the years. I hope he never stops, I suspect he'd be unsure what to do with a pipe and slippers, so Bruce, It's always nice to see you , to see you Nice! And Doctor Who fans.... we got zip this year, nothing nada, nil, nowt, but the opening sequence with Matt Smith and the Tardis was great.


Last word goes to Danish crime drama The killings on BBC4 is brilliant and completely engrossing , even if you don't speak Danish. Much like UK crime drama, yet a little less intense , it still arrives at the same destination that any crime drama wants, you care and you want to solve it before the DCI does. Good chance to learn yerself another language and have a decent rummage through your brain for solutions. My wife wept several times and it takes convincing acting and story to get her going like that. Something for the big softy and the amateur sleuth.

Thursday, 30 December 2010

2010 nearly done 2011 nearly here

Allow me a moment of sentimentality and introspection. It's been very nearly a year since I first took my long private posts and made them into a public blog. To be honest I wonder what kept me from going public far earlier, could have been the dodgy comp or perhaps the fact I was all over the place with other commitments... but it has been nice knowing that since the blog launched in May, it has got itself a respectable following and that it does indeed seem to wrap itself around the world. Special thanks to the lads and occasional lasses at Galibase, that really big fan in Edinburgh who seems to visit at least once or twice a day, all the people who come direct but whom I know not the names. Thank you all for reading, and I think I should be flattered that at least some you think it's worth coming on here to nick my pics for yourselves.When you do, just remember to occasionally tell people where you found them, that would suit me down to my toes. Apologies to those who googled widdicomb london is it really haunted or Masterchef USA final among the less bizarre search terms I've seen. If you've landed here by mistake, feel free to read, and if you're looking for Ivica Slavikova, yes I have THAT picture.  I hope you enjoyed your stay here, but we don't comment on US telly much and the only Widdicombe we know about was a high pitched noise in our collective ears till the great unwashed saw sense and booted her off Strictly.

Speaking of annoying noises  in 2010, my number one annoying sound this year or even this decade past, had to be the mind numbingly annoying Vuvuzela.  At one point some child had got hold of one and was blowing into it in the car park of the blocks of flats across the street. Should have seen him run when we came out and one of us almost caught him. Haven't heard it since then. The other annoying noise from around that time I'll not soon forget was the sound of England collapsing on the football pitch yet again. I've reconciled myself to never seeing us win the World Cup in  my lifetime. It's a good strategy as it worked when I gave up on a free Poland and the fall of communism in Central Europe. Maybe if I pretend I don't care about an England win till after Sepp Blater falls down a sewer, it may just happen. Oh, I could even pretend  Mike Ashley is a cucumber and that Joey Barton is a finishing school graduate, and pigs fly and that this time that e-mail from Nigeria will be for real. Having the simple optimism and faith of a house cat does work, as occasionally the desired tin of fish or new toy does come around and you might even get a pleasant surprise when you least expect it.

It's not all doom and gloom. Newcastle United bounced back and have settled firmly into the mid table trap, several teams are much worse than  we are and the TOON are playing that kind of heart attack footie where they beat Arsenal one week then go down in flames to Stoke the next. Joey Barton still gets yellow cards and we all still hate the owner and the board. Nowt new cept for the manager of the month. Enjoy the ride Mr Pardew, I give you till next May tops, then it's time for the next mate of Lambias to have a go at running the Mags. The government is a coalition that seems to be dissolving with every secret recording and leak. Senior Lib Dems are suddenly looking for the get out of town clause and the previously bleak prospects for Labour and the Miliband I didn't support, are sooo much ( pardon the pun) rosier. We could if we're lucky, see the end of Son of Thatcherstein before they get too stuck in and uproot all the stuff they missed first go round. Fingers crossed people. If the smell of tear gas and the sound of breaking glass was getting too familiar again, if the dulcet tones of the odious Jeremy Hunt who suckled at the teet of the White Witch of Narnia do not fill you with confidence, peace may be just around the corner. Then again Labour austerity may not be much better, but one hopes it will at least be harder on the bankers and the tax cheats who started the mess in the first place. Another bit of good news saw the collapse of the BNP and the identifying of the EDL as a source of trouble that needs sorting before it all gets out of hand. I'd much sooner spend the money on security for a Royal Wedding than see it all go to stopping hateful yobs intent on causing trouble in the name of the fictional pure Briton. This Briton was last seen when Boudica died or maybe when the Normans finally got settled in. Since then it's been a buffet of people from every corner of the world who have contributed equally to the good and the great (and sometimes the bad) to come from Great Britain. Jews, Catholics, Muslims, Poles, Irish, Romans, Normans, Arabs, Italians, Blacks, Asians, Vikings, and Germans etc... have come, stayed and brought ideas  giving the world the steam engine, trains, social reform, industry, the NHS, football and fruit cake.

The greatest gift created in 1922,  is however the BBC. This year we saw the 47th birthday of the brilliant Doctor Who, the continued success of Qi, Mock the week, BBC4 and it's arsenal of arts, science and history programmes that populate 80 % of the English speaking world's speciality channels, and several foreign language stations that have translated the prodigious output for the edification of their viewers. The iPlayer has come into it's own. I find myself using the VCR/DVR wotsit much less and appreciate the comfort of just watching what I want, when I want. So what gems have the BBC given us this past year? A few deserve special mention.

Mongrels brought back the sense that comedy had been missing for some time. Till then the best we could hope for was a few admittedly great panel shows and the seemingly endless stand up comedians and comediennes. The Sketch programmes have apparently gotten stuck in a rut where you could draw a direct line from the Armstrong and Miller two Types speaking "disreputable youth" to it's origins in the Python "Banter sketches". While I have no criticism of hommages and evolution, it sometimes was more a case of unfunny copying that was getting tired. What Mongrels did was wrap jokes in several layers and bring back the song and dance routine. It still can't do middle class or Upper class, but it least it wasn't afraid to step outside of the PC boundaries many comics had let themselves fall into.

Armstrong and Miller, have given us new and fresh characters the two best pairing being the posh old vampires and the not Hairy Bikers. Having got the fresh material in it's once again pushing boundaries and tackling more than the charv youth perspective.

The Bubble. What I thought was going to be complete and utter faeces, turned out to be one of the best things on telly for it's short run. A panel show predicated on the idea that three people would be isolated for a week, then fed fake headlines by a man who seems to have missed out on girls, sport and pop music,... you know, David Mitchell. In other words the average Sky news viewer , Sun reader, ipod addicted glake.

In cookery, Masterchef and the utterly brilliant Raymond Blanc and the understated but God like Nigel Slater made us drool all the way into our kitchens and aspire far more than the ludicrous Miss Dahl or Nigella ever did. We need to eat to live, we may as well eat well too. These chefs take us by the scruff of the neck and force us to look at old tried and tested methods and regional recipes and ingredients we have apparently fallen out of love with. I for one never did, but some of you haven't eaten tripe in years or  beets or even mutton. Check out the recipes section, it has a few canny links guaranteed to keep you in calories for the next 100 years.

Which moves us nicely to the sometimes flawed but well intentioned Turn Back time , the high street. Gregg Wallace and his chamber of commerce guided a likely group of merchants through the eras when the High Street still meant something. I hope the show was the kind of kick start some needed to go back to the butcher and the baker.  The upshot of the whole thing was that given the choice, most  people will always choose cheaper over quality, but enough people do care to seek the previous norm and know where their food comes from. It's these people who are raising children who won't be vegans because they don't want to hurt bloody Bambi. It's these people who will raise a generation of healthy children who know where their food comes from and how they are connected to it. And of course there is no reason why we can't buy British and pay less than the dreck from China costs us. If you can't shop locally shop European, if you cant shop European shop sustainable and safe.  As for the straw men of Peta and the World Wildlife Federation, seals aren't all cute, they eat fish and kill the livelihood of fishermen  be they Inuit or European stock living in Atlantic Canada.  If you really care, stop the Spanish and Portuguese and the Icelandic fleets from stripping the resources bare.  I've about had it with the bleeding hearts at Peta and all, We cannot afford to pretend we are somehow immune from the laws of nature and can divorce ourselves from the food chain entirely. What's the harm you ask? Seals and foxes and squirrels and rabbits run amok. Squeezing the natural balance that used to exists to the breaking point.  Man and nature have had a hard relationship. Sometimes we've taken it for granted stripping the planet till the resource was gone, then swinging the other way where we go all saintly and ascetic forgoing all fleshly needs. Where man and beast have worked together we have got on well and the balance has been preserved. Left to the devices of the veggies who think we can all just stop and it's great we will come to as much harm as when we follow the lead of those who think we can continue being wasteful and acquisitive as we are now. 

And who better than the BBC to tell us how  it used to be and why old isn't always bad or outmoded.  Edwardian Farm has been entertaining and instructive in a way a dry proff telling us the theory of  life on a farm isn't . Ruth Goodman and her merry band of enthusiasts have regaled us with this sort of thing going back to Victorian Farm and other programmes of the sort. What comes out of these programmes and the previously mentioned High Street, is that much of the old ways were only let go of in the 1950's and could be easily re-learnt. The ultra comfort plugged in easy peasy world of the flying car and the super suburb has come and gone and we have growing trends showing we are abandoning the most wasteful of these gifts from the  post war, world dreamers.  Not content to show us recent history, the BBC gave us a bumper crop in Norman week, Blitz week and the entire Georgian-Victorian reform histories from the navy to the civil service through to the do gooders with Ian Hislop.

What was the all time best ever thing this year on the BBC, nay on telly anywhere??? Luther? The Chilean Miners on BBC news? Doctor Who? Top Gear Bolivia Special? All great but you'd be nowhere near the best ever programme. Give up?  The final series of Ashes to Ashes. The all time best ever pay off for a television series  and as it's sci fi fantasy, the best ever ending of a cult classic I've yet to see. The respect shown for the viewers and the cast was immense, the drama and logic that kept you on the knife's edge right till the end was spectacular. They then went and made you cry !  The bastards!!!! Not sure what hurt more, the murder of an innocent Quatro or the continued sad job our Gene Hunt had to go back to? Where Lost went wrong, Ashes was a master class in telly writing.  Second place has to be a  highly respectful standing ovation to the makers of Sherlock, who took a time honoured story and respectfully brought it into 2010 without ever once compromising on who our Sherlock Holmes is. Fall 2011  we're told it's back with three new films. Make sure you don't miss them.

And only because of the exalted level of excellentness of the previous two, the also rans are in any other years massive winners. In no particular order, we have Doctor Who that this year saw the full taking of control of the lord Thy God Mr Moffat and the wonderful Mr Smith and equally beloved or hated "Our Amy" or "the Time Tart" Karen Gillan and her husband. Under Moffat, DW has recovered the magic and humour that was lost in the dark and somewhat revisionist RTD days. The Time Lords are back, Smith is as manic as Throughton or Tom Baker and the old morality of the pre cancellation Whoverse is stronger than ever.  The other winner of great achievement above and beyond the call of Top Gear has got to be Captain Slow. James May with his Toy Stories and Man Lab, scored huge points and separated himself from his three amigos with  special limited runs that gave our inner little boys a day out and reminded us that while some real men eat quiche, we are all still men and we forget it our own peril. He gave us comedy, information and a feeling that it's ok to be the complete man or boy. Toy Stories was on another level an eye opener to young and older alike. We got to see what was cool when daddy was a boy and that maybe just maybe , the x box isn't the only toy anymore. Along with the series Games Britannia , we learned that games and toys are not just time wasters but teachers, companions and soothsayers. Interestingly, Meccano has moved it's production back to France from China, aside from the fear of lead, surely James May has to share in the responsibility of this happening. Danger concious parents and children now increasingly trying Meccano and other older toys systems are asking the basic questions, are you made near me, are you going to poison me.  But most importantly , they are buying those toys again. Well done James May

Not to  pretend the sainted BBC can do no wrong.... there were a few mistakes. For every established hit like Outnumbered. Top Gear, Luther  or Larkrise to Candleford and the new Upstairs Downstairs. Yes , even the history people get it a bit wrong like with the Kibworth thing or verrrry wrong with At Home with the Georgians hosted by  historian Amanda Vickery. This was an abomination worthy of the " If romance novel readers presented history" genre. This woman assumes that we know nothing before the 80's and that nothing worth knowing or doing was invented before 1985. This woman takes great care to find the writer of a journal to walk away in failure having found only a portrait of the man in advanced middle age. In the House of the family, rife with photos and portraits, surely a future or past young male of the house could have stood in for the now old man???? But no she not a proper historian  or she would have thought of that yes???  Then there's the dropping in and out of the reverie she does that wanders a bit too much into the idealised fantasy world of Harlequin and books for good girls. It's so annoying you will not last long enough to get to get to the good bits where she reads the excerpts of contemporary journals, some even very salacious and revealing of the feelings both men and women had about romance, security and marriage. Another wasted effort where the professionalism was lacking and the assumption was that most viewers hadn't ever watched any history before and were too stupid to figure out we might, as a society, been house proud long before the 1980's or EVEN the 1950's. Enough to make you want to toss the antique '70's fake leopard print nylon pillow at the telly!

The sitcom division also seemed to lay one stinky rotten egg after another. I could mention them, but then I'd have to dredge up memories of The Pursuisonists, almost anything Amanda Holden , Miss Dahl  and a few others touched. I cannot understand how the same network that gave us The Trip, Ideal, Just William and Miranda can get it so wrong so often. Please stop it, I'm sure there are plenty of great ideas out there that aren't being flogged by the same tired old writing teams.The other great disaster was/is  Giles and Sue take the piss out of the Good life. If they were looking for two people to make a hash of what is by now a perfectly reasonable choice for millions of people, they got the right hosts. But what a disservice. Matt Baker and the Countryfile folk could have given us just as many smiles and been far more respectful. As it is those who watched learned nothing and continued to think it's hard and the ones who were looking for a clue had to go somewhere else. Such a colossal waste money and talent. But then what do you expect from this pair who think their shit doesn't smell sometimes. If they had added Jimmy Carr, they could have sorted the pretentious little twat and his smug atheism out of our view for at least few weeks. 

Don't get me wrong, these same people in small doses on shows like 8 out of 10 cats and Qi can be plenty fun, but when they get a full on attack of full of themselvesness, it's all a bit much. ITV which seems to have forgotten about how to make money AND good programmes, seems to have with some small embarrassing errors regained some of the lost ground with Downton Abbey and Poirot on the Orient Express. Corrie celebrated 50 years, stopped being un watch-able for a few weeks then promptly brought back Tracy Barlow. Some people never learn. No bother, I have C4 and the small list of gems they have allowed to bubble along in the comedy, history , cookery and overseas content like Big Bang Theory. It crowd, The In betweeners, Peep Show and if you have the stomach for it...Frankie Boyles Tramadol Nights. Still haven't seen any real reason to tune in C5 but I might give it a shot soon, heard there was something,  ok ... wait, that was K9. On second thought, I don't watch Sarah Jane interferes, so why should I watch this even cheaper pile of droppings.

Oh what a year 2010 was and thank you again to all those of you who read, made comments and let me know through facebook or Galibase what you thought. Remember support your national birthright and don't let the politicians ruin our BBC!  And if you must watch that other network,  make sure you're watching the good stuff.

Happy New Year and may all your scheduling problems be solvable!

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

James May's Man Lab: Get excited and make things

Get excited and make things! A real man's motto. Posh Top Gear 8 year old, James May, leads us on a merry adventure through the rediscovery of the lost manly arts. In his struggle against cappuccino culture, moisturisers  and the manicured man, he takes every opportunity to make us laugh as only our inner little boy can.  Apparently 8 out of 10 men today cannot wire a plug. Sad statistic considering that when I went to school we had to learn that and so much more. I can still make a wobbly table or weld an ugly ashtray out of sheet metal. I'm well hard I am !.

 (PS: Episode 2 review posted ).
         Episode 3 review posted

So lets find out how your man skills are, can you diffuse a bomb? Serenade a woman? Shine shoes good enough  to see yourself? Can you assemble flat pack furniture from that store that rhymes with idea? One out of three ain't bad, but consider the fact Germany dropped an average of 85 dud bombs a day during the blitz, it's at least one skill maybe I should brush up on. As for serenading my lovely wife, I'm not so sure I'd want to inflict my singing voice on anybody, let alone my wife, but as she already loves me, I'll keep my romancing skills up by fixing things and throwing out the rubbish whilst speaking in rhyme. Speaking of poetry, James May is not shy about getting all heroic ode and purple prosaic about the classic man that has nearly gone extinct. His recitations amidst people pouring concrete for a 1000 year kitchen top or introspections whilst dismantling a bomb  are just one of the high points that lace through the hour of comedy and genuinely useful tips.

 You can tell May has been hanging around his Top Gear mates for too long, the sometimes less than subtle humour wrapped in near Oscar Wilde like wit,  gives us moments like when he informs us the bomb he will be disarming  is a replica stuffed with manure and Peter Andre's latest scent. Should it go off,  he would be covered in it. Throughout the episode, James May steps away from the bomb for a series of Pythonesque trips to the hardware store, and has a cup of tea delivered to him in a novel new way. Does it go off? You'll have to watch for yourself. And yes, I wanted it to go off as well, humiliation is almost de riguer in such a situation . We then have the near serious, but not quite, segment on how to woo the strumpet with Elizabethan rhyme strumming the guitar using a tuning method known as cheating. I had no idea that it could be that easy as I used to play piano and learned the hard way. James's assistant goes through with his quest to pursue the girl in gas valve repair class, with keystone cop results that promise to lead to further adventures of the kind.

My favourite skill test had to be the assembly of  flat pack furniture comedian Alex Armstrong partakes in his childhood passion and puts together a chest of drawers, hoping to beat his own personal record. The task is made even harder by deducting 5 minutes for every school boy error committed. Now I used to be rather good at this, but have since moved on to furniture made by craftsmen. But when I did do it, I used the lay it out method and follow the instruction on the plan, as, let's face it, they knew how best to go about it. James's helpful advice was designed more to wind up in a nice way than help, but that is nature of friendly male bonding type banter. What I love about flat pack isn't the stuff itself, but the idea you can build something quasi useful with just a bag of bolts and a key tool. I doubt any flatpack will ever make it onto antiques road show, but I have seen uglier things, so who knows.

During the programme, May and company descend into pure insanity bordering on the barking mad. Don't let the shoe shining with a pro or cookery bit where we learn  how to make a fish finger sandwich and condiments for, fool you. Underneath the calm collected and logical exterior of the Man Lab, lays a subconscious plane of ethereal creatures inhabiting a melting pot of Benny Hill, Charlie Chaplin, and RenĂ© Magritte. During a discussion about how to get to ones dinner sat on a picnic table soooo far away while mowing the lawn, a wheel chair comes out. You would think they might alter the chair to mow lawns and  tootle over to the  table for a snack. But you'd be wrong, in a move to prove to some women I know, that men aren't even close to un complicated, James May has the table fitted with wheels and a remote control device to bring the table to HIM! Fear not dear reader, he was reading my mind as you'll see when you watch for yourself.

Mobile picnic table too simple for you?  How about a system that orders and brings things about the house without moving? While not quite Wallace and Gromit, the solution is as complicated as it is appealing to every male who ever held a remote control. In the real world you would do one of two things, you could send an e-mail to the kitchen, await confirmation of your order by e-mail and then wait for a person who's not too busy whom the person in the kitchen has tapped up, to bring it to you OR you could lift the receiver on the phone in front of you and call it into the kitchen, using the already mentioned person presumably watching Dave, to bring it to you.  The solution Captain Slow comes up with is sooo much better.

Step one- You build a miniature railroad throughout the house.

Step two- Signal ( using your station master's card) the kitchen that you require the train in your office

Step three- You use your remote control pad ( having read the owner's manual ), pressing the appropriate buttons to stop the train .

Step four- You write a post it note requesting a banana, place in rail car .

Step five: send back to the kitchen using the correct codes

Step six- wait for the fruit to come to you and press the stop signal.
Step seven- Send the train to where it is next needed when the signal box tells you to.

I don't know about you, but it works for me.

James May's Man Lab , a worthy successor to his previous series James May's Toy Stories, is an instant classic that is destined to be renewed and replayed for the next 100 years on Dave. Despite it's clear comic orientation, the programme does point out a real important piece of information.... It's time men were men again. by all means, yes cook ( I do) , but don't become so crippled with laziness and gender confusion you can't do ANYTHING useful. Men, in case you missed the wise words of Canada's Red Green...."If you can't be useful then at least be funny" . In fact I'm waiting for the duct tape segment before the series is over.  The fact is that young women are less and less attracted to the useless, spineless Jessie who lives on lager and take away. They want you to be both useful AND funny.  With James May's help it can be done.

If you've had fun doing man tasks, drop him a line at manlab@bbc.co.uk  Mark your subject line "I had fun"

Episode 2 reviewed and up as well as Episode 3

Monday, 6 September 2010

Is Top Gear past it's sell by date and other unmentionable thoughts?

As television watcher and reviewer, I take very seriously the prospect that a production company is watering down the product or not doing all it can to entertain me. Conversely, if it's not broken divn't fix it.

Top Gear, a programme I've been watching, it seems like for ever, is it possible it's gone soft in the middle and lost touch with it's audience? Is it possible the Guardian and a few other Top Gear haters are right? I only ask as that I myself found myself getting weepy at the sight of vintage British sports cars on one of the eps of the last series. Top Gear sells itself as a car enthusiast's magazine. From such a show I expect to be informed, educated and entertained. If I'm honest I'll admit that sometimes it verges on the sentimental and soppy when they revisit the classic cars, but are they out of date? I don't think so.  I can honestly say that the presenters reflect the interests and cares of the average  modern BBC viewer. Through all the silliness that keeps me coming back for more, it seems enough car news and automotive knowledge seeps in that I can carry on an intelligent conversation about the latest trends and features in motoring.

And lets talk about the silliness. Jezza and his uncensored tongue, are we really that sensitive that we need to read the most base and unpleasant motives into his every utterance? He is what he is, a bufoon, an opinionated man who says what he thinks and talks of what he sees. He is not a hate monger or a wind up artist, why should he pretend things he's seen haven't happened? The worst reaction I've had to his jokes is to not have laughed at a few of them. He means no harm and he incites no one to violence, if you don't include views on motor-homes and their owners. Jezza, Capt'n Slow and the Hamster are every knot of 8 year old boys in men's bodies. We like what we like, we think farts are funny and we call a spade a spade. I don't think it's a crime to be funny and informative or to go miles out one's way to make a point. To quote the lunatics at Myth Busters... "If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing". If the critics want a dry dull documentary style auto show like you can find on any other network they should be watching those, I however want to be amused and kept wondering what happens next.

So the new series is in filming at the minute and we'll be getting a new Stig. Seems the old one was hoping to make a few quid after hiding in a white suit for 7 years. Ben Collins who replaced Perry McCarthy when he got rumbled, was on the point of being rumbled himself. I suppose it's only natural that these things happen. I hope the next Stig is better at keeping his mouth shut and his eyes covered. Which of course begs the question... what colour will the new Stig be? Will he still be white? Will the new reasonably priced car perform as well with the new Stig? Will we kill a few more Morris Marinas with pianos? Will there be more crazy road races? Who knows, but I'll bet the answer is yes to the last 2 questions, why change what works, we expect certain things and if it still works, Top Gear should not stop doing them. At it's core, Top Gear does what it's supposed to do well. The whole fastest production car record was gripping and worthy of any serious news story about auto-mobiles. While I don't expect Jeremy Paxman to drop frogs down Mishal Hussien's blouse, the serious people could learn a thing or two from the hyperbole of Top Gear presenters. The road trips in Bolivia, The North Pole and Vietnam to name only a few were as good as or better than some BBC4 travel programmes.

My other un mentionable thought is even worse than the first.... Is it possible that the RTD years of Doctor Who were .... how to say this ... too slick?

I ask this as I have been re-watching early Who from the start and have also begun re-watching Ashes to Ashes. I cannot however bring myself to watch much of the new Doctor Who after Ecclestone. It's not that they weren't good. On the contrary, despite my criticism of Russell T Davies and his decision to isolate the Doctor by making him the last of his kind, the eps were gripping first class drama. They squeezed out tears fears and exposed the raw nerves and bizarre paranoia that lurks in all of us. No the eps in question, with  several Tenant exceptions, are lacking  the kind of individual scenes that taken separate and apart  could serve as humorous interludes, small slices of Doctor life that inform more on the character than just the current story line.  Re-watching the old Whos and the Gene Hunts, I found myself looking forward to many specific scenes and was mouthing dialogue as if it was HHGTTG, Torchwood or a Python sketch. Perhaps my core criticism is that RTD took Doctor WHO too seriously. He turned it into Spooks in Space and Time for a while.

Moffat by contrast, in choosing to craft a Doctor more related to the Throughton era, has written or had his writers create scripts that are increasingly manic at times and have from the beginning allowed a longer peek inside the world of our favourite Time Lord. While he still scares socks off our feet, he hasn't edited it so close to the bone that we don't get the intimate moments you used to get when Tom Baker had the luxury of 5 or six eps to sort out a story. Another thing, Moffat (or RTD before him) hasn't gone bananas with the special effects over the merits of the written word as acted by actors and actresses. Despite a mammoth budget compared to say Sarah Jane Adventures, Doctor Who is careful not to dazzle you with too much sizzle at the expense of substance. When Matt Smith talks to Auton Rory, he does so in a manner you could enjoy if it had been in any other story. It's one of many bits I want to see again. I suppose what I'm saying is that I want the shmaltz and the humour and the personal stuff like we used to get before it was boiled down to one hour, one story.

A propos of nothing, next time you watch a show on telly, pretend the cast is on a near empty sound stage,  then picture a painted back ground, if the acting and the writing still holds up even with the barren set, you know you've got something special. 

A great format about to change is that of Master Chef UK. I like the current format, I know the Australian version is massive and breaks records. But I've seen the format in the US version. It's got weeping contestants telling sob stories to get in the starting 20. I don't want to see three weeks of preliminary frying of eggs mixed with tear jerker stories of just how much this will mean to them if they win. For me it's always been about the cookery. I stopped watching X factor and BGT for the same reasons. The success of Master Chef UK so far has centred on the notion that the cooking is the star, the ingredients are the supporting cast and the contestants are aware they are only there as long as the cooking is up to par.  I don't care if the contestant is a single mum or a struggling artist, for me it's down to one thing....as Greg Wallace says,  "But can he cook?". The perceived need by production companies to inject pathos is incomprehensible, what's wrong with just talent?


Till next time ....So long and thanks for all the fish.

Saturday, 17 July 2010

We shall fight them on the editorial pages

We shall fight them on the blogosphere and we shall fight them in public opinion. The Con-Dem government nobody voted for is now clearing the way for an attack on the very institution that makes Britain the jewel in the English speaking broadcast crown. They are greasing the track for a mass raid on talent, money and Corporation facilities to be handed over to the private sector. This same private sector that has stopped short of showing us extensive coverage of Katie Price's vagina, the same private sector that has reduced the intellect required to watch most programmes in the last 5 years to charvs who cannot spell and aren't even sure how to boil water.

Clearly the content on offer at BBC1, BBC2, BBC3 and BBC4 , all fulfil the needs of different parts of the watching public. They each in their own way cater to or pander to specific demographics. But the vast majority of the content is at least based on the desire to inform, entertain and expand the mind of viewers.  If the private sector was able to do this , then there would be no need to have the BBC. But clearly the most cursory scan of the television schedule on any day of the week reveals a sad picture of American programmes, copies of American programmes and charv culture in such abundance you could be forgiven if you thought no one had graduated school in ten years.

My own viewing habits are a case in point. The following is a list of programmes I have deemed worthy of my time. Programmes I have in some cases gone out of my way to see they are so good. See how many of them aren't on the BBC.

Doctor Who, Spooks, Torchwood, Victorian Farm, Eggheads, Mongrels, Rev, Graham Norton, Coronation Street, Midsommer Murders, Top Gear, Mock The Week, You've been watching, 8 out of 10 cats, Secret Diaries of a call girl, Luther, Jonathan Creek, Qi, The Bubble, Private life of Chickens, Proms, Big Bang Theory,  Look North, Question time,The Mentalist, Time Team, The entire BBC4 nature and science output for the last year, Raymond Blanc secrets, Master Chef, Jamie Oliver, Gordon Ramsay, Outnumbered, Joanna Lumley cats/Nile, The week long programme about a car crash investigation, The IT crowd, Doc Martin, Coast, The entire BBC history of the sea season, Dunkirk, The World Cup on BBC. I can go on, but the point would be that outside of a handful of programmes  outside the BBC, I can safely say that I would not be sad to see C5 go the way of the dodo or see C4 be absorbed into the BBC.  ITV has become a parody if itself, foregoing quality for cheap programmes aimed at the same demographic Big Brother was made for. BBC Television does for people what any decent national television network should do. Is it perfect?  Big Top and the Pursuasionists are proof even they make the occasional mistake. But at the end of the day, our telly would be that much poorer without the BBC we know.

The iPlayer, is perhaps the best thing since the invention of the wheel, without being accused of hyperbole. Being able to catch up on programmes  conveniently sorted by name, genre and station is the best way to get some shows a greater audience. The iPlayer is a perfect tool to get maximum bang for the money spent on BBC product. Any move to limit the use or support of the iPlayer should be viewed with  deep suspicion.

The BBC website and news division are integral to the way most people gather news and has a reputation of honesty and accuracy most other news organizations would love to have. To target the news and sports division for selling off and dismantling is destroying a journalistic tradition that goes back so far that most people at the Sun, friends of the government and certain other papers would have to work their way up for a decade to merely come close to that level of quality. Does anybody seriously take Sky news as a credible source for news? Since when is cynical thinly veiled right wing propaganda news?  There is little wonder we are seeing the rise of the BNP/EDL hate mongers among the young and impoverished school leavers too stupid to read for themselves or check facts. Sky has been spoon feeding this lot with enough paranoia and fear to fuel a decade or lunacy. The service provided by the BBC website as a whole is greater than any measure of economy that could be brought to bear on a few highly paid executives and talent. We get our news, we get our base information on everyday things, we get a relatively quick update of information so finely tuned that if somebody farts in an interesting way in Durham, it will be posted and findable with little difficulty. I could say I'm not pleased with the facelift of the BBC news section, but I'll give it a week to prove me wrong. At it's core it's still the same BBC I count on every day of the week.

National and local radio is another place the Beeb has a definitive place in the broadcast landscape. We are surrounded by stations trying to sell us the same top 40 pap with the occasional new x factor bint or himbo breaking the monotony of safe inoffensive drivel that appeases secretaries , housewives and 12 year girls. Where else will you hear new cutting edge music, radio drama and comedy, short audio documentaries and intellectual content Magic and Galaxy will never go near. How else will regional acts not lucky enough to get on Virgin radio get a shot at stardom or at least being heard by  a group bigger than 30 people. When was the last time you heard Elgar on the drive time show. As for the new music, some of which I despise btw, it's like what I want to hear now but can't due to the top 40 storm, it was once cutting edge and new. Local and national outlets of the BBC owe it to the artists that struggle to get heard and should give them as much freedom of access as can be granted. For every Alaxardra Burque who warbles her way to fame on the back of Darth Cowell, there are thousands of artists of every kind who are more deserving of exposure, but are lucky to be heard at all. Whole genres of music depend on the continued help of the BBC to be heard and remain vital living art forms. From Celtic to Bhamra If it weren't for the BBC, it wouldn't be played on mainstream radio or telly.


One last and at least as important thing the BBC does. Without the BBC, regional content and culture and the culture of those who chose to settle in Great Britain would not be reflected. Left to it's own devices, ITV and other private channels would have created a white London centric identity that would have eventually washed away any trace of the regional and replaced it with Westminster English. I know I know , the BBC had it's own role in this as well, but wisely was smart enough to recognize when it was wrong. Today the mandate of the BBC should be recognized and affirmed as the torch bearer of British culture and history, it should be the voice of superlative journalism and the place to see Cricket, Rugby and football without having to subscribe to the special Sky sports pack.

What precisely is bothering the BBC haters like Jeremy Hunt? Competition, alleged unfair competition, Is it so wrong to pay talent a proper wage? How much money is wasted on Piers Morgan or Peter Andre. How much is Jeremy Kyle taking home?  Clearly enough to continue putting out the dreck they do. So why shouldn't talented people like Wossy or Norton or David Mitchell be paid a wage that will keep them at the BBC?  You want quality, you need to pay for it. Can there be some economies? Of course, every place can do it, but  taking a machete to The Beeb, is just criminal. During the war my father listened to broadcasts of music, comedy and drama that kept his and the minds of millions of people off the day to day misery that was life under the threat of bombs. Today the Beeb educates, entertains and gives hope to all kinds from University of the air to how to grow your own drugs.

So who exactly is benefiting from this attack on the BBC?  The private sector, the sector that would have you believe there is only one culture, one view, one demographic and one Britain worth broadcasting to and informing.   It's going to be a long summer, and when the  savages are at the gates, we'll need to be ready to keep the damage to a minimum. Is the BBC worth the money spent on it?  A  BIG FAT YES.

Thursday, 1 July 2010

I love the sound of deadlines whizzing by

A propos of nothing, I got up this morning like a fag addicted creature stabbing in the dark for my fix, only to remember there is no football today or tomorrow, so now stuck with an entire day to fill interacting with other humans, I need to come up with a game plan that still has room for the two articles I promised but haven't touched since the World Cup has started. I'd like to say that I'm feeling guilty about having had to make an excuse to my editor, but to be honest he knows I been spending my time watching the world cup. What I'm sure concerns him more is that I had time to write an article on the state of Humour, saved English football, reviewed a BBC4 Bio pic , the last episode of Doctor Who till Christmas, and still not even a draft for him to look at. Honestly Mark, I haven't forgotten you, I promise, hand on heart, I'll have something for you in a couple of days tops.   

Well it's many hours later and the visitors I least expected have left, I've made enough spaghetti sauce to feed a small army, the cat has been washed, made some sandwiches re-organized the pantry and took a bath. My wife who is my researcher, baked two loaves of bread and a massive tray of cookies,  but it's not procrastination. I can hear you asking, did you do any writing today?  Well yes in fact, I did some stuff on facelick, banged on in Galli Base about why Germany will take Argentina to go on to the final, and wrote a polite note to my council about getting us a new recycling bin, as the one we have is knackered. All in all a productive day, if not big on  literary output.

I also did one thing I hadn't had a lot of time to do.  I looked at how my list of regular readers has grown. I'd like to thank mysterious person in Moscow for coming back everytime there's a new post, then there's Gavin in Estonia who doesn't read my Who reviews till he's seen the episodes as he thinks I might have too many spoilers, maybe yes and maybe no Gavin. Jeffrey wants to know where the food bits are, they're coming  is the short answer. Have a cracking honey bread recipe that would be at home in any Polish home and if you can lay hands on some matza, you can make your own skor bars...  In the last few days I have established a steady supply of information from Unsigned Sunderland and few other sources ( more on that another time), so a few days hence, you can expect a once weekly list of must try acts you won't ever hear on Darth Cowell's iPOD. Then there's the nice people at BBC Radio Newcastle who have knowingly and not so knowingly contributed to this blog. Nick Roberts and Paddy McDee are legends and if you've not caught their contributions to radio I can only ask , what are you waiting for?

I know some of you are wondering why I didn't write a word about the last few days of World Cup Matches, but if you watched, you'll know that like most, I was too busy trying not to slit my wrists to  dull the pain of having to watch Japan v Paraguay play the kind of football that makes watching paint dry feel exciting. By the time we got to the penalties I was relieved it was over, I didn't care who won. I do know that if I ever see either of those teams on a fixtures list, I will hope they get hammered into oblivion until they learn to at least try and score some goals. Crossing your legs like a frightened virgin seems interesting for the first 5 minutes, but three matches in a row is enough to make you swear off the game. At least Chile  Brazil was interesting even when it was nil nil for the longest time. In the end Chile succumbed 3-0 and it was entertaining.  I must also confess a slight perverse joy in the discomfiture on Christiano Ronaldo's face as he was having a pretty bad day at the office. Seeing him unhappy more than made up for all the unpleasantness a few years ago and since. There are few players currently active that I dislike more, in fact only three and two of them had a vile World Cup, seeing Gatusso not play and then get sent home a loser was personal joy surpassed only by the knowledge that Lippi, master of dull anti-football and cheating will likely be sacked joining the disgraced Raymond Domenech on the manager black list. I won't belabour the point made by a few others in various other blogs and columns, suffice to say that the self important superficial condescending Adrian Chiles, is not worthy of licking Gary Lineker's shoes. Bet you thought I was going to have Chiles lick some other part of Lineker?  Well it's not that kind of blog, but for £2.99 a minute there is a site where you see strange creatures humiliate themselves live on telly. Is anybody still watching Big Brother? ITV have proved that even the World Cup can be trivialized to a point where you wait for the last possible second before tuning in to the match to miss the awfulness that is the ITV warm up show. Thankfully, you can choose who's coverage of the final you want to watch, with luck, next World Cup/Euro ITV will be stripped of any right to International football.

You may wonder who the revelation of the world cup has been, the most remarkable person or thing  to come along and make a permanent mark on our imaginations. Is it Diego Maradona, maybe the Dung Beetle, or perhaps the seriously annoying vuvuzela? Putting on my best Jeremy Clarkson voice, You're all wrong , it's ...  Ivica Slavikova  , yes the bird off the Sky broadband advert featuring the perverse (purrverse) pea in her mattress. Every time she say "Stop leaving vegetables in my bedding. Its perverse",  males watching are hypnotized or at least trying not to let it show if the  girl friend or wife is in the room. And on the subject of these self same women. Such brave, long suffering people they are, even my football loving wife wonders how I've managed to watch all but one live match without going blind, crazy and soft in the head. I'd like to put this in perspective. If you follow a team like say Newcastle United, and somehow you watched every match they played in the season, you'd have 38 regular season matches, a few FA Cup ties say 4, if you make Europe, another 10 if you go all the way, so 52 in total over a period of 10 months. I have watched 52 of 56 matches since the World Cup kicked off . I will watch another 7 between Friday and the final for a total of 64 matches in under a month with only a two day break. I've grown used to the idea I could see two allegedly high quality matches a day and even secretly missing the inane droning of Mick McCarthy in my ear. My wife knows enough to let me have my fun, it's only every two years and the rest of the time "I'm the best". Football zombie Mietek will be around for another couple of days and it's back to normal programming, my editor will have a steady stream of brilliant stuff, my wife will be able to talk to me normally as opposed to only for 10 minutes in between matches, life will go on and I will catch the occasional crap friendly, or Europa league qualifying match until the real football comes back in August.   Those of us lucky enough to have women loyal enough to understand we won't always be like this, need to appreciate how lucky we are. Some men have been forced to miss the football to go to in laws, do shopping or eat out cos it's nice.  These women don't seem to know we'd rather have our teeth pulled than miss the World Cup. So men, after all the fuss is over, and you need to go on footie withdrawal, show some appreciation to your lady, take her to see that new vampire porn flick that just came out, ( you can sleep in the dark it's ok) , you could have a few friends over and talk for hours she'll like that, or you could just revert to default setting and that will seem like a huge improvement on the grunting football obsessed eating sleeping lump she's been living with for the past month.

 If you do manage some telly time and you've missed these gems earlier in the week, go to your iPlayer and fire up Mock the Week, Graham Norton from this Monday and the first new Top Gear. More on those tomorrow as well as some recipes and music you won't find anywhere else.


In othe telly news Phil Collison Corrie boss and ex Doctor Who producer was recently asked about plans for the 50th anniversary.. “It’s still quite early and we’re still planning what we’re going to do. We’ll be announcing more details soon but what I can say is that it’ll be massive. It’ll be Corrie like you’ve never seen it before.” Collinson was also asked whether Corrie would be repeating the idea of a live episode like they did for the 40th anniversary in 2000. He acknowledged that the idea had been raised but added that he wasn’t terribly enthusiastic about the idea himself, citing the enormous amount of coordination necessary to make it work. I'll take that as a no Phil. Regardless, since his eps have started to run, Corrie has been a treat to watch. Good work Mr.Collison. Long may you reign.

One more day of rest and maybe I'll get closer to finishing at least the one article this week. In the mean time, if you feel like wasting a few bob at the bookies, put a fiver on Germany to get past Argentina. If they loose, it's just a fiver, but if they win the odds are tasty. If' I'm right send me my ten percent in the post. Laters all.