It won't appeal to all, but I found this random email from the above gentleman (he runs like a Welshman, don't you know) downright hilarious. A wonderful line in fairly bizarre Eddie Izzard / Pete & Dud / out there humour and I want to acknowledge his genius...
(to be read in the voice of an east-end London black cab driver)
Bleedin' superior races with their ability to travel through time and space! I was in the cab the other day, and I'm just stopped at the Garbouldasham Road lights - you know, the new ones with the keep left filter - and a bleedin' Cyberman jumps in the back and wants to go to the Goose & Whistle in Wantage!
Well I was confused to say the least! So I'm a bit suspicious of this and I says to him "Ere, you got any money for fare in that polymer, all terrain Cyber-wotsit? And he says "Negative. Take me to the designated co-ordinates or be deleted". Well I was flabbergasted!
Turns out, the Cyber Controller was waitin' for him at the pub and paid his fare - with a generous tip I might add! I guess the old saying never judge a book by its cover really rings true...
Lee Manton will not be appearing at next year's Edinburgh Festival. Unless we really get behind him.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Thursday, 12 November 2009
A small update while the next blog is worked on...
As we slowly, then steadily and before we know it speedily age, surely we all wonder about the more bizarre and seemingly useless things that happen to our bodies. Take nasal hair for instance (please, take it).
Now, can anyone explain to me what the hell this stuff is for? Seriously, it makes no sense to me. It suddenly appeared (surely no coincidence) just before I hit 30 and now seems to have taken root. Not only that, but it's also accelerating at an alarming rate. And the worst of it is that it tickles the inside of my nose All The Time.
It replenishes itself no matter how often I get the tweezers in there and yank it out, it's like a frustratingly virulent weed and during one desperate attack on it I even stood there with a match and wondered if could be burned down without too much pain to myself. Not only that, some of these things are over half an inch long for Christ's sake. Looking in the mirror while brushing my teeth the other morning I genuinely saw one poking out and curling up over the rim of my nostril. That was alarming.
Presumably there's some incredibly important reason for it (ditto the fascinating ear hair that plagues elderly gentlemen - I saw an amazing example on the bus yesterday), perhaps as we age we become particularly prone to airborne illnesses and this is the way the body tackles it. Perhaps it's a form of ironic design, and the more nostril hair we have the less we have atop our heads. If I leave it be and let it do what it will, does it stop at a certain length like pubic hair or does it keep going like scalp hair?
Whatever the answers to these questions, I'm starting to get a little self-conscious when I go to give the nose a quick rub and end up tugging a particularly stoic strand out of there (and by god, that is a special type of pain all to itself - the inevitable tears, sneeze and runny nose that follow are testament to that and a dead giveaway to anyone in the vicinity).
Now I worry that I'll end up writing more of these Meldrewesque rants as time goes on. Still to come: When Pubes Go Grey and Yes, That's My Hernia.
(and if anyone gets me one of those nostril trimmers for Christmas, I will not be amused...)
Now, can anyone explain to me what the hell this stuff is for? Seriously, it makes no sense to me. It suddenly appeared (surely no coincidence) just before I hit 30 and now seems to have taken root. Not only that, but it's also accelerating at an alarming rate. And the worst of it is that it tickles the inside of my nose All The Time.
It replenishes itself no matter how often I get the tweezers in there and yank it out, it's like a frustratingly virulent weed and during one desperate attack on it I even stood there with a match and wondered if could be burned down without too much pain to myself. Not only that, some of these things are over half an inch long for Christ's sake. Looking in the mirror while brushing my teeth the other morning I genuinely saw one poking out and curling up over the rim of my nostril. That was alarming.
Presumably there's some incredibly important reason for it (ditto the fascinating ear hair that plagues elderly gentlemen - I saw an amazing example on the bus yesterday), perhaps as we age we become particularly prone to airborne illnesses and this is the way the body tackles it. Perhaps it's a form of ironic design, and the more nostril hair we have the less we have atop our heads. If I leave it be and let it do what it will, does it stop at a certain length like pubic hair or does it keep going like scalp hair?
Whatever the answers to these questions, I'm starting to get a little self-conscious when I go to give the nose a quick rub and end up tugging a particularly stoic strand out of there (and by god, that is a special type of pain all to itself - the inevitable tears, sneeze and runny nose that follow are testament to that and a dead giveaway to anyone in the vicinity).
Now I worry that I'll end up writing more of these Meldrewesque rants as time goes on. Still to come: When Pubes Go Grey and Yes, That's My Hernia.
(and if anyone gets me one of those nostril trimmers for Christmas, I will not be amused...)
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
The legendary Richard Harris
I was tickled recently to hear a tale of the late, great Irish actor Richard Harris, the original Dumbledore and one of the world's greatest hellraisers.
Shortly before he died, he was stretchered out of the Savoy (where he kept a suite) into a waiting ambulance. As he passing a group of people heading in he sat up and cried out "It was the food!"...
Shortly before he died, he was stretchered out of the Savoy (where he kept a suite) into a waiting ambulance. As he passing a group of people heading in he sat up and cried out "It was the food!"...
Question Time and the BNP
Ahh, fascists. What a source of amusement, entertainment and of course irritation.
So I finally watched the controversial appearance of Nick Griffin on Question Time the other night - interesting stuff for a number of reasons. What we had was an obviously very, very uncomfortable man sat there and rightly so, since pretty much everything aimed at him and his party was pure vitriol. It was insane, at times the audience like a baying mob - but this was to be expected and was in no small way down to his own comments, for example being pulled up on once having shared a platform with a member of the KKK and attempting to play this down by saying he was from one of the "least violent" chapters.
Also notable for me were Griffin's futile efforts to show nonchalance by firing out a dismissive laugh that sounded anything but. It was just a little too enthusiastic to come across as genuine and ended up working entirely against him. Not only did it clearly anger the audience but tellingly it showed that he was rattled and nervous.
What frustrated me about Griffin's appearance on the programme though was that since everyone (Dimbleby and the panel included) was having a go at him and his party, he just didn't get enough of a chance to give much in the way of lengthy answers. I'd have paid money (not to him or the BNP mind) to hear him say more, since every time he did open his mouth he succeeded in showing himself up as a complete and total arse. Vaguely referring to polls and figures but not being able to say which ones or in which publications was a start, but when he started denying things that he'd been filmed saying I sat there literally shaking my head in disbelief. I mean, had he been given more of a chance to speak he could have done a damn sight more damage to the BNP than any amount of protesting outside (more on that in a minute). Some of what he was saying was priceless - "Race isn't an issue" was a blinder, only eclipsed by "I've never had a conviction for Holocaust denial" when asked for a yes / no answer as to whether he'd ever denied it. Nice to see a Michael Howard moment there. Talk about giving someone enough rope to hang themselves.
Oh yeah, the protestors. Now I know I'm no great shakes on politics, the very word has always conjured up a dry, grey world to me. But there were a couple of things that occurred to me during the news reports of protestors clamouring at the gates of the BBC before the show, trying to storm the place and disrupt the recording:
1) by protesting the BNP being allowed on Question Time in the first place, were these people not indirectly protesting against the idea of freedom of speech and democracy? After all, the BNP were voted in fairly and legally so therefore have the same rights and platforms as any other party to put their points across. People might not like it but that's tough luck, it's how democracy works. Why not look at how the BNP got there in the first place instead of arguing the toss now they're there (stable doors and so on). You can't have it both ways, arguing for free speech one minute then complaining when someone you don't like gets their chance to say something the next.
2) leading on from that, and to echo Richard Herring's comments in his excellent Hitler Moustache show, if you don't like that they got in and you didn't vote then you really only have yourself to blame. Even if the thought of politics sends you to sleep, the shock of the BNP getting European seats should wake you up to the value of actually using your vote. Turnouts were low, apathy was high - and I'll confess, I was one of the apathetic - and they managed to get a foothold as a result (note to the other parties: maybe you should get back on the streets, do some grassroots campaigning, knocking on doors since it worked for them). Voting for someone, for anyone else could have changed things. I'd rather have seen the Greens get 2 seats than the fascists, put it like that.
Jut to clarify by the way, in case anyone assumes that I hold any love for the BNP - I don't. I think they're abhorrent and find what they stand for disgusting. But in the words of Evelyn Beatrice Hall (not Voltaire as is widely believed)...
I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.
Maybe politics isn't quite as boring as I used to think?
One final thought: does anyone else want to see Nick Griffin feature on Who Do You Think You Are?
So I finally watched the controversial appearance of Nick Griffin on Question Time the other night - interesting stuff for a number of reasons. What we had was an obviously very, very uncomfortable man sat there and rightly so, since pretty much everything aimed at him and his party was pure vitriol. It was insane, at times the audience like a baying mob - but this was to be expected and was in no small way down to his own comments, for example being pulled up on once having shared a platform with a member of the KKK and attempting to play this down by saying he was from one of the "least violent" chapters.
Also notable for me were Griffin's futile efforts to show nonchalance by firing out a dismissive laugh that sounded anything but. It was just a little too enthusiastic to come across as genuine and ended up working entirely against him. Not only did it clearly anger the audience but tellingly it showed that he was rattled and nervous.
What frustrated me about Griffin's appearance on the programme though was that since everyone (Dimbleby and the panel included) was having a go at him and his party, he just didn't get enough of a chance to give much in the way of lengthy answers. I'd have paid money (not to him or the BNP mind) to hear him say more, since every time he did open his mouth he succeeded in showing himself up as a complete and total arse. Vaguely referring to polls and figures but not being able to say which ones or in which publications was a start, but when he started denying things that he'd been filmed saying I sat there literally shaking my head in disbelief. I mean, had he been given more of a chance to speak he could have done a damn sight more damage to the BNP than any amount of protesting outside (more on that in a minute). Some of what he was saying was priceless - "Race isn't an issue" was a blinder, only eclipsed by "I've never had a conviction for Holocaust denial" when asked for a yes / no answer as to whether he'd ever denied it. Nice to see a Michael Howard moment there. Talk about giving someone enough rope to hang themselves.
Oh yeah, the protestors. Now I know I'm no great shakes on politics, the very word has always conjured up a dry, grey world to me. But there were a couple of things that occurred to me during the news reports of protestors clamouring at the gates of the BBC before the show, trying to storm the place and disrupt the recording:
1) by protesting the BNP being allowed on Question Time in the first place, were these people not indirectly protesting against the idea of freedom of speech and democracy? After all, the BNP were voted in fairly and legally so therefore have the same rights and platforms as any other party to put their points across. People might not like it but that's tough luck, it's how democracy works. Why not look at how the BNP got there in the first place instead of arguing the toss now they're there (stable doors and so on). You can't have it both ways, arguing for free speech one minute then complaining when someone you don't like gets their chance to say something the next.
2) leading on from that, and to echo Richard Herring's comments in his excellent Hitler Moustache show, if you don't like that they got in and you didn't vote then you really only have yourself to blame. Even if the thought of politics sends you to sleep, the shock of the BNP getting European seats should wake you up to the value of actually using your vote. Turnouts were low, apathy was high - and I'll confess, I was one of the apathetic - and they managed to get a foothold as a result (note to the other parties: maybe you should get back on the streets, do some grassroots campaigning, knocking on doors since it worked for them). Voting for someone, for anyone else could have changed things. I'd rather have seen the Greens get 2 seats than the fascists, put it like that.
Jut to clarify by the way, in case anyone assumes that I hold any love for the BNP - I don't. I think they're abhorrent and find what they stand for disgusting. But in the words of Evelyn Beatrice Hall (not Voltaire as is widely believed)...
I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.
Maybe politics isn't quite as boring as I used to think?
One final thought: does anyone else want to see Nick Griffin feature on Who Do You Think You Are?
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Diddly-dum, diddly-dum, diddly-dum...
I think pretty much anyone who knows me even slightly knows that…
*deep breath*
I am a geek when it comes to TV (and films, but that’s another story).
As if that wasn’t enough, my own particular brand of geekery doesn’t normally match what’s “in”, which for some reason almost always seems to be American, brought over here with huge fanfare and plenty of word of mouth. They just don’t really appeal to me. Maybe it's because I'm not American, I don't know. Not for me the BSGs, the Losts (I tried, I really did), the True Bloods or whatever else is popular this week. It’s similar but not the same with big Hollywood blockbuster films. With few exceptions I’ll watch and mostly enjoy them but they’re mere one night stands, normally forgotten straight after and rarely spoken of again.
Oh, there are exceptions – Smallville (the Superman legend retold completely anew fascinates me), Curb Your Enthusiasm (still the funniest show on TV, go watch it now), Family Guy (nothing to be said there) and a baffling, ever-failing yet ongoing attempt to like the original Star Trek (I adore the classic films but can’t stand the series, go figure) but my own particular fondness - nay, adoration! - is for a classic cult TV series that is wholeheartedly and unashamedly British.
I gained a thin sliver of credibility when the revived version of the up until then much maligned and unloved Doctor Who exploded into mainstream popularity like a hydrogen bomb in 2005. Having been a fan since the unpopular days of Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy, through the wilderness years of 1989 – 2004 (with a brief Paul McGann-shaped blip in 1996) it was a bizarre experience to say the least. All of a sudden a bit of extra knowledge came in very handy when talking to new fans (who were otherwise normal people – this was unheard of!), filling them in with background on various aspects of the show – the Doctor’s history, past encounters with Cybermen, the Daleks, the story of the Master and so on – and of course the irresistible joy of making stuff up and seeing the more gullible lap it up… It’s infuriating of course when people ask questions I simply don’t have answers for because certain events happen off-screen. There’s a hefty gap between the Eighth Doctor leaving our screens in 1996 with a cuppa, and the Ninth Doctor turning up in a department store basement in 2005. Only one man knows what happened during the Time War and it isn’t me, it’s a tall gay bespectacled Welshman (I only fit one of those four criteria, and even then it’s borderline).
But I digress. My favourite series going from being laughed at to loved was, as I said rather bizarre. All of a sudden seemingly everyone liked it, and as an old-school fan (let’s call them Whovians, since that’s what we are) it almost took away some of the fun. Fans can be an odd bunch (the word ‘fan’ derives from “fanatic” after all), you only have to enter the scary realms of internet forums to find that out. To say that a lot of Whovians tend to feel somewhat proprietarily about the show would be an overwhelming understatement. To some degree – quite an alarming degree for the more vocal individuals - there’s a belief that we in some way own the series or have more right to it than anyone else. It’s for us, not the ‘not-we’ (or NuWho fans). I hasten to add that I don’t actually subscribe to that school of thought – good grief, if that was the main thought then the programme would never have come back in the first place (and some would say that was a good thing). Undoubtedly the best thing that Russell T Davies did when bringing the show back was to ensure it was first and foremost a family entertainment series, and not simply aimed at the fans. A tricky balance to get right, but he did it. There’s a marvellous interview quote somewhere when he was asked how he dealt with hardcore fans suggesting how it should be done, and his simple answer was to say that he just ignored them.
OK, OK, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a tiny part of me that feels a pang of loss now that it’s popular again. It’s not the secret little club that it used to be for the few who can seemingly spend days debating whether Pertwee was better than Hartnell, where the events of The Two Doctors fit into established chronology or how the DVDs should be displayed on one’s shelf - I kid you not, there’s talk of changing the design of the covers and you can hear the howls of anguish from here (double sided covers would appear to be the solution by the way).
But there’s room for everyone. What we have here are two very different beasts that are in fact the same. The difference is that one of them is the massively popular and fun uncle who’s great to spend time with, and the other is his slightly dotty twin who gets hidden away most of the time because he’s a bit of an embarrassment.
Some NuWho fans have discovered the older series and enjoy the fact that it’s Doctor Who despite the not-so-special effects, the amusing acting and the overall feeling of cheapness. Some will be aware of the show’s history but watch the new series only, and that’s fine.
Some Whovians will refuse point blank to watch the new series and enjoy their battered Target paperback of The Auton Invasion, or watch Pyramids Of Mars on DVD for the nth time, and that’s fine too. Some of them may even give the new series a go out of curiosity and find that they like it after all.
And some of us will straddle both camps, enjoying the old and the new in different ways – the old with fondness and familiarity, the new because, well, it’s new. But it’s still Doctor Who.
And we’ll enjoy a warm rosy glow when someone comes along and says “So what’s the deal with the Macra then?” and we can tell them without feeling like a bit of a twat.
I tell you something though; nostalgia isn’t what it used to be...
*deep breath*
I am a geek when it comes to TV (and films, but that’s another story).
As if that wasn’t enough, my own particular brand of geekery doesn’t normally match what’s “in”, which for some reason almost always seems to be American, brought over here with huge fanfare and plenty of word of mouth. They just don’t really appeal to me. Maybe it's because I'm not American, I don't know. Not for me the BSGs, the Losts (I tried, I really did), the True Bloods or whatever else is popular this week. It’s similar but not the same with big Hollywood blockbuster films. With few exceptions I’ll watch and mostly enjoy them but they’re mere one night stands, normally forgotten straight after and rarely spoken of again.
Oh, there are exceptions – Smallville (the Superman legend retold completely anew fascinates me), Curb Your Enthusiasm (still the funniest show on TV, go watch it now), Family Guy (nothing to be said there) and a baffling, ever-failing yet ongoing attempt to like the original Star Trek (I adore the classic films but can’t stand the series, go figure) but my own particular fondness - nay, adoration! - is for a classic cult TV series that is wholeheartedly and unashamedly British.
I gained a thin sliver of credibility when the revived version of the up until then much maligned and unloved Doctor Who exploded into mainstream popularity like a hydrogen bomb in 2005. Having been a fan since the unpopular days of Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy, through the wilderness years of 1989 – 2004 (with a brief Paul McGann-shaped blip in 1996) it was a bizarre experience to say the least. All of a sudden a bit of extra knowledge came in very handy when talking to new fans (who were otherwise normal people – this was unheard of!), filling them in with background on various aspects of the show – the Doctor’s history, past encounters with Cybermen, the Daleks, the story of the Master and so on – and of course the irresistible joy of making stuff up and seeing the more gullible lap it up… It’s infuriating of course when people ask questions I simply don’t have answers for because certain events happen off-screen. There’s a hefty gap between the Eighth Doctor leaving our screens in 1996 with a cuppa, and the Ninth Doctor turning up in a department store basement in 2005. Only one man knows what happened during the Time War and it isn’t me, it’s a tall gay bespectacled Welshman (I only fit one of those four criteria, and even then it’s borderline).
But I digress. My favourite series going from being laughed at to loved was, as I said rather bizarre. All of a sudden seemingly everyone liked it, and as an old-school fan (let’s call them Whovians, since that’s what we are) it almost took away some of the fun. Fans can be an odd bunch (the word ‘fan’ derives from “fanatic” after all), you only have to enter the scary realms of internet forums to find that out. To say that a lot of Whovians tend to feel somewhat proprietarily about the show would be an overwhelming understatement. To some degree – quite an alarming degree for the more vocal individuals - there’s a belief that we in some way own the series or have more right to it than anyone else. It’s for us, not the ‘not-we’ (or NuWho fans). I hasten to add that I don’t actually subscribe to that school of thought – good grief, if that was the main thought then the programme would never have come back in the first place (and some would say that was a good thing). Undoubtedly the best thing that Russell T Davies did when bringing the show back was to ensure it was first and foremost a family entertainment series, and not simply aimed at the fans. A tricky balance to get right, but he did it. There’s a marvellous interview quote somewhere when he was asked how he dealt with hardcore fans suggesting how it should be done, and his simple answer was to say that he just ignored them.
OK, OK, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a tiny part of me that feels a pang of loss now that it’s popular again. It’s not the secret little club that it used to be for the few who can seemingly spend days debating whether Pertwee was better than Hartnell, where the events of The Two Doctors fit into established chronology or how the DVDs should be displayed on one’s shelf - I kid you not, there’s talk of changing the design of the covers and you can hear the howls of anguish from here (double sided covers would appear to be the solution by the way).
But there’s room for everyone. What we have here are two very different beasts that are in fact the same. The difference is that one of them is the massively popular and fun uncle who’s great to spend time with, and the other is his slightly dotty twin who gets hidden away most of the time because he’s a bit of an embarrassment.
Some NuWho fans have discovered the older series and enjoy the fact that it’s Doctor Who despite the not-so-special effects, the amusing acting and the overall feeling of cheapness. Some will be aware of the show’s history but watch the new series only, and that’s fine.
Some Whovians will refuse point blank to watch the new series and enjoy their battered Target paperback of The Auton Invasion, or watch Pyramids Of Mars on DVD for the nth time, and that’s fine too. Some of them may even give the new series a go out of curiosity and find that they like it after all.
And some of us will straddle both camps, enjoying the old and the new in different ways – the old with fondness and familiarity, the new because, well, it’s new. But it’s still Doctor Who.
And we’ll enjoy a warm rosy glow when someone comes along and says “So what’s the deal with the Macra then?” and we can tell them without feeling like a bit of a twat.
I tell you something though; nostalgia isn’t what it used to be...
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