Holy Flying Circus: some lovely, freewheeling daftness

This reimagining of the furore surrounding Monty Python’s The Life of Brian is told in a hurley-burley Pythonesque way. Punctuated by Gilliam drawings, silly asides to camera, and men in frocks the programme is a nod to the original Flying Circus and all its eccentricities. The idea of making the programme in this way rather than a straight, dry biopic is both fresh and something it seems that the Pythons themselves would approve of.

We’re taken through the anti-Brian protests, the council bans and the death threats to the now infamous Friday Night, Saturday Morning debate with Cleese and Palin versus Malcolm Muggeridge and the Bishop of Southwalk.

The six Pythons are played as caricatures: here John Cleese is Basil Fawlty and Michael Palin is the Nicest Man in the World. In keeping with Monty Python tradition, most of the women are played by the men and the main cast play multiple characters, which can be confusing at times, like Phil Nichol as Terry Jones as Palin’s wife is quite a mind-boggler but it’s all in keeping with the tone of the programme. Nichol's Jones is brilliant, by the way and a tiny bit sexy...

There are some parts that don’t work or are hard to follow but that's probably the point; sometimes Monty Python didn’t work, sometimes it was a bit hard to follow but that was the fun of it.

The performances were excellent from the cast, notably Darren Boyd’s John Cleese was a revelation and Charles Edwards’ Michael Palin was, well, NICE. A host of wild characters joined a freewheeling surrealist plot. Favourite line? 'That is one big motherfucking bishop.' And Stephen Fry was God. Aces.

The Comic Strip presents: The Hunt for Tony Blair: Crikey, what a caper!

Ah, old Tony Blair's back in the limelight, or maybe that should be searchlight, yet again. Only a couple of weeks ago Dispaches: the Wonderful World of Tony Blair investigated the vast pots of wealth he has amassed since leaving No. 10. Now the Comic Strip presents... take a slightly more light-hearted look at Blair's downfall in the style of a British film noir. There's loads of mist and trains and trilbies and smoking.

Stephen Mangan takes on the role of Blair and gee, he is just swell. He's got Blair's mannerisms but manages to make it a version of Tony Blair rather than a really bad impression. The story begins in a bizarre rendition of our world, somehow existing in the 1950s/60sish. Original Comic-Stripper (steady) Robbie Coltrane arrives at Downing Street to arrest the PM. It's nothing new really, 'Blair's a murderer', 'illegal war in Iraq', blah blah blah, but the way it's tackled is refreshing.

As Blair goes on the run from the rozzers, he reminisces on how it all went wrong and we meet a right gaggle of mentals along the way. As expected, the mentals are mostly played by some of our best British acting folk. Another original Comic-Stripper, Nigel Planer, captures Peter Mandleson's extraordinarily dull creepiness perfectly and I'm left with the distinct impression that this weird parallel universe is actually Mandleson's fantasy life where he gets to play a clever mastermind who outfoxes them all.

Also of note are Tony Curran who pops up as shouty ginge, Robin Cooke; Morgana Robinson (off of the Morgana Show) who plays sexy beatnik, Carol Caplin and Ford Kiernan who channels his Angry Man from Chewin' the Fat as the mentally unstable, Gordon Brown. The show-stopper though has to be Jennifer Saunders as Lady Thatch in the style of Gloria Swanson. Her run-down Sunset Boulevard style mansion provides a hiding place for Blair and a quick shag with the Iron lady herself. Saunders' Lady Thatch has an other-worldly kind of bonkers which works so well; eternally reclining as her butler, Tebbit, plays reel after reel of her glory days.

Also of note is the beautiful styling, the sumptuous lighting and the clever writing. It's great to see a new set of comedians and actors breathing new life into the old Comic Strip format. More mad-cap political satire is required so I really hope this wasn't just a one-off.

There have been so many articles, books and documentaries about Blair in the last few years with many differing viewpoints and versions of just what happened during his time as PM. The Hunt for Tony Blair ends when Blair, who is portrayed here as a self-serving, morally bankrupt cunt, ends up being shot in the arse. Make of that what you will.

The Hour: Coats, hats, gloves, cigarettes, brooches, brollies, intrigue and a stiff drink

Hello hello hello, I'm back bitches! Apologies for the long absence due to moving/internet woes and other boring things but never mind all that, I'm here, tapping out words on my keyboard, making sentences and everything. A champion as always of British-made telly, it's The Hour that has been feeding my eyes for the past month. Although branded by some the British Mad Men, it's not. Same period, yes but here the women are in charge.

Romola Garai plays the captain of ship as the Hour's producer, Bel Rowley. Billed as the strong ground-breaking female, the character sadly falls a bit flat. I mean she's fine but her bizarre affair with Dominic West's wet anchor with an equally wet name, Hector Madden, just doesn't sit right. What IS she doing with him? He's so DULL and wooden and insipid, EUGH. Rowley isn't the driving female force of the programme as I had hoped, but Duckface is. Yes, Duckface off of Four Weddings and a Funeral, the lovely Anna Chancellor. Playing the slacks-wearing, chain-smoking Lix Storm (Best. Name. Ever.) she completely steals the show from Garai which is a shame as Garai's character seemed so promising in the previews. She does, however look smokin' hot with her gorgeous Joan Holloway-style wardrobe.

Far from a straight forward drama series, the plot is filmic, like a John Le Carre novel. Set in the midst of the Suez Canal Crisis, there are spies, double agents, murders dressed up as suicides and fiendish puzzles. Trying to navigate his way through the maze of subterfuge and intrigue is young journalist Freddie Lyon played by the phenomenal Ben Wishaw. Trying to uncover the truth behind the death of a childhood friend, he stumbles into a dangerous conspiracy. I'll not spoil it for you (BUY THE DVD) but it is pretty thrilling. There are personal sub-plots as well, such as Freddie's obvious love for Bel and his sexy times with Lix, however they do take a back seat to the the Hour, highlighting the importance of the news stories that dominated the time and the vital new format of news programming that was so revolutionary.

I loved it, Bel and Hector's tedious affair aside and am delighted to hear the news that a second series is being commissioned. More Ben Wishaw in tank-tops typing through a haze of floppy hair and cigarette smoke? Yes please.

Thank you Telly for... Our Friends in the North

Sorry guys, been a busy bee lately with not much time to watch much new telly, hence very few posts so to rectify this I thought I'd revisit some classic series and say thank you Tellly! So today Thank you telly for Our Friends in the North. 'But Suzanne! When it was aired in 1996, weren't you but a young child, living in jodpurs, giddy on super strong Irn Bru Soda Stream and watching the episode of the Monkees where Peter tries to get a job so many times that you memorise the entire scene where the computer interviews him, so much so that you can still recite it today word for word?' Well, yes... 'Shouldn't you have been in your bed dreaming of going to an Enid Blyton style boarding school, ruddy-cheeked and boisterously playing lacrosse with a robust sports captain jollying you along on the sidelines?' Yes, I should have been but I've never been a bedtime fan, I've always been a telly addict and, most importantly, THERE WAS A TELLY IN THE KITCHEN.


I remember the 1960s period trailors and at the age of ten I believed it to be hugely unfair that I was born in 1986 and missed the Beatles, the beehives and the Biba. Anything that even remotely suggested the period was a definite must, hence the dozen Woolworths-bought 60s compilation and my overuse of the word groovy (I was only ten). I took note of when Our Friends in the North was on and stayed up until I knew it was safe to sneak downstairs in the dark, turn the volume knob right down low before switching on the television with a clunk from the giant on button.


I remember very little from the series when it was originally aired, but the history arc that it followed always stuck with me, the housing scam, Margaret Thatcher, the miners strike, the 1987 hurricane, I drank it all in. Recently I re-watched the series with the benefit of being older and somewhat wiser. At ten I thought the actors were good and the make-up that aged them through the decades was good but I appreciate now what a brilliant ensemble cast Christopher Eccleston, Gina McKee, Mark Strong and particularly Daniel Craig, were. As an adult I'm now more drawn to the story of the four individuals; Mary and Nicky's love story, 40 years in the making; Mary and Toskers desperate struggle to keep their family together; Nicky's socialist political activism; Geordie's heartbreaking blows dealt by increasingly unfortunate circumstances.


Today it's still as impressive and moving as ever. An ambitious project, that could have easily fallen flat was excellently researched and executed by all involved. A journey through Britain's turbulant recent history combined with compelling stories of the people who lived it, Peter Flanery's epic drama still packs a punch today.

Twit-Telly

And by this I don't mean telly for twits, no no no, I mean telly for twitterers (it's a word). Gone are the days of sitting on your lonesome sofa, with a Chef Lonely-Hearts and a tea-stained blanket wrapped around your Oreo-stuffed frame. No more of that, we have Snuggies now! But seriously, instead of talking to an empty room, we can now pick up our phones and type such thing as,

OMFG, this bawsac on my telly is a bawsac ROFL LMAO #thetellyshowwereallwatching

And we can be safe in the knowlege that there are others out there in the Twitterverse with the same views, all we have to do is scroll down and bingo!

Thatmanthatwritesforthatnewspaper
What a cockface this cockface on my telly is #thetellyshowwereallwatching

I'm not alone in my house watching me telly, it's all actually an illusion! In reality my tiny living room is filled with people I admire, writers, actors, musicians, comedians, as well as a plethora of virtual pals whose faces I've never seen in motion, only frozen in avatars and everyone's sitting around chatting about what we're all watching. I am swept along on a wave of inclusion and I decide to tweet Thatmanthatwritesforthatnewspaper as we seem to be on the same wavelength:

@Thatmanthatwritesforthatnewspaper What a cockfaced bawsac! #thetellyshowwereallwatching

Hahaha! I'm so funny! He's going to think I'm so funny! And he only bloody does and retweets my tweet for all to see! OMFG! I'm flipping HI-LARIOUS, maybe I should start writing down my thoughts if they're this funny, maybe even try some stand-up, what the heck?! Basking in my new found awesomeness and to keep the momentum going for my six (count 'em SIX) new followers, I roll up my Snuggie sleeves and write a reply to a comedian I like because she'll get me too.

@Thatcomedianoffthatpannelshow Hahaha! What's the script with this cockfaced bawsac? Is he some kind of moron or something? LOLZ #thetellyshowwereallwatching

I am on FIRE. Buzzing, I wait for my inevitable reply. It's totes coming. I'll give her a minute. She's taking her time. I've refreshed my @ mentions twelve times now. My sense of inclusion is slowly ebbing away and my living room full of virtual pals fades away until it's just me, my Snuggie and my Chef Lonely-Hearts again. I fetch a bottle of red wine. By the time the telly show ends, I'm very drunk and definitely not funny.

Nah! Really though, Twitter has made telly-watching a completely different experience. There are event shows like the X Factor or the Apprentice that end up trending world-wide; there are shows you only decide to watch because Twitter tells you about them like the 1976 TOTP reruns, which turned out to be a brilliant night in; and then there are ongoing shows like Eastenders and Corrie that build-up a plethora of not-so-private Twitter jokes. So cheeurs Twitter! Cheeurs for the virtual pals! Cheeurs for the laughs! Cheeurs for indulging my telly addiction! And cheers for fueling this blog!

All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace: Everyone loves a good montage.

Adam Curtis began his latest documentary series, All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace on BBC2 this week and I tried my darnedest to grasp what he was on about and this is what I came up with, see what you reckon...

Ayn Rand was Russian lady, novelist and the founder of Objectivism. Objectivism is a philosophy based on the individual's achievement of happiness through pure self interest, out with government/religion and their restrictions, right? Right. So Ayn Rand wrote this book in the late 50s, Atlas Shrugged, based on this philosophy. In the book a group of innovators and business leaders take themselves away from the contsraints of society to live in the hills somewhere and watch smugly as the society collapses without them. After a while, when the economy is well and truly fucked, they come back to tell everyone how to construct a better society, focussing on the above mentioned principles of objectivism. Yes, this is a reductive explanation of a long and complicated book but that's the basic gist.

One of Rand's inner circle, Allen Greenspan, went on to become the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, the most powerful man in the American economy and therefore pretty much the most powerful man in the world. Greenspan believed that computer networks could maintain order without central government control. This idea of the world being connected by these networks became known as the Californian ideology. Thus far I was kind of following but it wasn't long before my mind began boggling.

During Clinton's time in office, there were budget cuts in order that the market could right the deficit and public spending was encouraged, creating the boom of the 90s. Now here's where the machines come into it; the computers created mathematical models to keep the market stable so people are borrowing and spending like nobodies business. A New Economy has been made. But something isn't right, productivity rates are not increasing yet the predicted profits are rising. Greenspan notices this, tries to warn everyone but then changes his mind, deciding it's all going to be fine after all because the computers will sort it. But soon, of course, it all falls apart, the markets, Clinton and Rand's collective and everyone's in the shit, especially Asia, who's westernised economies take the biggest hit. China are well pissed off at this and begin flooding the west with cheap goods that the western markets can't match and so industry gets a kicking and the west is plunged into recession. Basically, I think that's it, okay? Okay.

So the moral of the story seems to be, don't be a selfish dick, think about how your actions will effect others ie. don't lend huge wads of cash to countries to aid their economies and then fuck their markets up, sending them straight into Third World status. While I may not have grasped all of the complex ideas Curtis raises, the economy has always been a bit of a mystery to me, I did enjoy the style and soundtrack. Numerous montages are accompanied by haunting/raucus/beautiful tracks and insightful parallels are drawn to illustrate that this self involved philosophy of objectivism is damaging to the individual as well as to the broader world, economic or otherwise. Never having seen a Curtis film before, I thought the style was captivating: he made a fairly depressing and at times frightening subject an aesthetically enjoyable experience.

The Apprentice Returns: 'Is that an orange?'

It's the most wonderful tiiime of the yeeeeaaar! That's right folks, The Apprentice is back and so is my weekly run down of all things Apprentice. This week as a special treat you'll get two whole posting from me! Cos there's two whole episodes, innit. Before the the first episode last night I had a look at the candidates interviews to see who I should watch out for and right away shit-talking awkward Ed stood out for me, with his shiny head and his waving arms, 'I don't believe Lord Sugar would find anything difficult about me.' Wow, really? This guy might do well, eh? Another of the candidates I liked was Ellie, maybe it's the lovely Yorkshire accent, maybe it's her no nonsense chat, 'I'm just a nice person really, but I have got a dark side if somebody treats me badly', don't we all. How will my horses do? Let's find out...

DUM DI DUM DI DUM DI DUM DI DUM DI DUM DI DII DII! Here they come, across the bridge all in their nice suits with their suitcases, talking a lot of crap, 'Don't tell me the sky is the limit when there are footsteps on the moon', candidate, Melody, reads her words of wisdom off a fridge magnet. In the boardroom the candidates meet Shoogs for the first time and he explains that this year the name of the game is different, instead of working for him, the winner will be working WITH Shoogs, who will inject £250 grand into an unspecified business. Well some of them have got businesses, others do sales and there's even some inventors. Bespectacled Thomas invented the world's first curved nail file. Impressive, no? I like Thomas, he seems lovely but be warned 'underneath these spectacles is a core of steal.' Aw! No there isn't. Nor does there have to be, stay lovely Thomas and you'll be fine. Back to this weeks task and rather predictably Shoogs splits the teams into boys v. girls. Shoogs gives each team £250 and tells them to buy some fruit, make sumfink wiv it then sell it. Simple.

Ah, the team names, always massively underwhelming and this year is no exception. After throwing some poor to middling suggestions into the ring like 'Platinum' and 'Galvanised', the girls end up go for 'Venture' *YAWN* Leon pipes up with an hilarious suggestion 'Leontrepeneur' for the boys team. HA! But the boys who have no vision and no sense of humour go for 'Logic'. Since these names are so shit I've decided this year to name the teams myself. The girls team shall now be known as SISTA TRIBE and the boys will be THE POSSE CREW. Because moonwalker Melody has been personally taught by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu (yup, that's what she said) she will lead SISTA TRIBE while waving-arm Ed will head up THE POSSE CREW.

The boys head out to the fruit and veg market in search of oranges. Picking up a round orange fruit the killer question is posed, 'is that an orange?' Wow. The girls fair a little better spending only £180 of the Shoogs' money and both teams head back to their kitchens to make their products. SISTA TRIBE split their products into breakfast and lunch, selling fruit salads and minging tomato pasta. THE POSSE CREW decide to go for orange juice and soup. Jim Eastwood (cool name, cool accent) does well in the boys team, diffusing arguments in the kitchen and behaving generally like a good chap. I like him. Actually. Weird. Disaster hits the boys' kitchen, however, when the juicer breaks and the 1400 oranges (we checked, they ARE oranges) have to be squeezed by hand. OUCH. Eventually both teams get their goods out and start selling and the girls seem to be fairing a lot better than the boys but will it be a shock result in the boardroom? No. No is the answer to that. SISTA TRIBE get the shit prize of champagne and some food in the house. Shoogs could've sent them to a nice restaurant at least. Tight.

Meanwhile down at the end of loser street in Heartbreak Cafe, Ed's team sob into their coffees. Now Ed has been 'rolling with the punches' all episode but back in the boardroom he really starts to shine. He talks. And talks. And talks a load of shite, 'that's my character, blah blah blah, I think you're soup man, blah blah blah, I don't fit the mould, blah blah, micro-manage, blah blah, when I was producing that was production, BLAAAAAH!' Jings. Ed brings back Gavin and Leon. Gavin seems alreet and he holds his corner well. Leon, on the other hand....well....

Shoogs: What was you doin' all day?
Leon: I ran the fixed unit.
Shoogs: You mean you was in the lorry?

Brilliant. Ed tries in vain to fight his case and he's really scraping the barrel for excuses, 'not only am I the youngest on the team, I'm the shortest.' Well flippin' done. Ed, you're fired. Oh well, that's life eh? I suppose you have to ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES.

Next time, the teams develop and sell mobile apps. Stay tuned for some offensive stereotypes. Welcome back The Apprentice!

Made in Chelsea: Prepare to be hit by a wall of hate.

Monday saw the beginning of another faux reality series about a group of glamorous young people with big wallets and even bigger egos. My beloved The Only Way is Essex finished it's reem second run last week and now makes room for E4's Made in Chelsea. The trailers gave a good indication of how hateful these people would be and I was not disappointed. They were horrendous. ALL of them; privileged poshos living in one of London's most exclusive areas, all with droning plumby accents, all self involved and all vain.

The first episode begins with a party to celebrate the launch of Ambaaaaa's jewellery line. There was a distinct lack of jewellery, perpetuating the myth that Chelsea parties are just a place to be seen. We meet Caggaaaaaay, she's a singer. A real artist. Deep and that. Then there's Little Lord Fonteroy Francis. Can you guess what he does? Go on guess. You'll never get it. He's a DIAMOND MINER. Yup, for reals. Who's this now? Wait, is that Vigo, the villain off of Ghost Busters II (thanks to @nicklewisbryan on Twitter for that)? Nope, it's just Fredrik who's hair is the only interesting thing about him- NEXT! Ollaaay, who is NOT GAY AT ALL, looks like Ferdie off of This Life's younger, snootier brother. Because Ollaaay is NOT GAY AT ALL he has a girlfriend, Gabriellaaa who inexplicably adores him. Then we have Spencaaaar, charming Spencaaar who has a girlfriend, Fundaaaaaa (I know, I know) but he also likes Caggaaay, although he won't sleep with anyone other than his girlfriend AT THE MOMENT. Told you he was a charmer.

You bored yet? Me too. And I don't know what's going on because I can't understand a chuffing word they're saying, E-NUN-CI-ATE! There are various other faceless glam-bots some of whom I only remember because their names are so ridiculous, like Binkaaay and Cheskaaa. There's nothing endearing about any of these people but what did we expect? Of course there is nothing likeable about being rich and posh and living in Chelsea. People won't watch it in there droves like TOWIE because no one will have a favourite who they love because even though they might be a bit dim, they're probably quite a nice person. This Chelsea lot are also a bit dim, see the 'Charles Dickens wrote Winnie the Pooh' conversation, but they lack that warmth of character. And there's no Nana Pat to give us some down to earth wisdom.

Despite all of it's failings, I will be watching it next week BECAUSE they're so deliciously hateful but I predict even this will get old quickly. I give it three more eps until I hurl a full can of Strongbow through the telly into their tedious symmetrical faces.

Sounds Like Teen Spirit: The bizarre and brilliant world of Junior Eurovision

It's that time again folks, EUROVISION!!!! Cannae wait for the obligatory pairty, pick a country, dress up and bring a themed dish. Can you imagine the opportunity to do this TWICE in ONE YEAR? Well imagine no longer; I give you, JUNIOR EUROVISION. I know, I had no idea either but it exists and Jamie Jay Johnson's 2008 documentary Sounds Like Teen Spirit, followed the kids from selection to the final live show. Technically this is a docu-film but it was on the telly and I liked it so I'm writing about it anyway.

We begin our road to Junior Eurovision in Belgium as they showcase their young talent. And what does Belgium have to offer? Wheelie wearing, line dancing, sugar-dipped Dalton sisters; danced-up accordion playing lads with traditional kicking dance; a spurned 13 year old Avril-Lavigne-alike; bland, rice throwing Bieber-alikes complete with token girl singer. Through the dance of the red blocks a representative is chosen and it's.... Biebers+girl, Trust.

Ruddy hell, it's like the early Olympics apparently, the winners then only got a bit of leafy head wear and these kids now only get perspex trophy. You'd at least expect it to be platinum or solid gold or something, it's just PERSPEX but these kids want it. Including 10 year old Giorgios from Cyprus, the star of the whole show. He begins by showing us around his Mediterranean pad with gems such as, 'This is the door that we go in' and the perplexing, 'This is the fridge. This is where we spend most of our time.' I instantly LOVE this boy. His entry sees him perform with his sequined capped girls but his life at school is far from fab and spangly. As with most theatrical kids, Giorgios is bullied but because he is amazing he wants to thank his bullies or he wouldn't be the person he is. You see? LOVE.

Bulgaria gives us the mildly irritating Bon-Bon. From this group of tweenie Miley Syruses we follow Marina, who's struggling to come to terms with her parents' separation. Her father left her mother for another woman and Marina heart-breakingly thinks that maybe if she does well in Eurovision her dad might come back.

Georgian winner, Mariam, lives in startling contrast to her more well off competitors. We meet her mother and little brother in a run down tower block. As she walks through the streets we see how big a deal this kind of competition is to a country like Georgia. She's greeted like a celebrity, with kisses and hugs and free oranges (don't worry the guy has a car full. Literally).

The kids from Trust are quite boring and normal apart from the one who likes to study in his bathroom and the girls who just wants to meet a nice boy. These ones, I like. When the competition arrives the bitchy adults give their take on who will win. No one puts much faith in Mariam, they mostly think she will come near the bottom so naturally I hope she wins. It reminds me of youth theatre courses I used to go on, the kids all got to know each other and quickly made friends. The comradery is really quite heart-warming. Giorgios says he wishes his whole life could be like Junior Eurovision. If only.

The live show begins hosted by Laurence Llewellyn Bowen and Gwendolyn, the good witch and watched by 23 MILLION across Europe. From Georgia, Mariam's mother watches on an old TV with a dodgy reception as she couldn't be there in person. One by one the acts perform and then the scoring begins. As the scores come in the Ukraine with their horrendous stripping Bonnie Langford seem to be doing well, Greece, Belgium and Bulgaria are not. Georgia, meanwhile are raking in the points and after a win for Bellarus, end up coming in fourth! In your FACE bitchy adults! I am genuinely gutted for Giorgios, though who's dad worries he may get bullied when he gets back to school. For now though, it's disco time! I hope this is what the big people's Eurovision is like too.

The doc isn't really about Junior Eurovision but about the kids and their disparate lives in Europe. Although Mariam returned to Georgia a national hero, she and her family had to flee there town shortly after when conflict with Russia broke out. The film maker muses that these children are the future of Europe and can perhaps change it for the better. Here's hoping.

Doctor Who: NO SPOILERS! Just my Humble Predictions.

Did anyone see that teaser they showed for Doctor Who last night? What the fuck was that behind the President??!! I am right royally freaked out before the new series has even begun. All the Twitter hype from those lucky smugos who got to see the screening a couple of weeks ago suggest this is Doctor Who's darkest and scariest opener yet. I am so excited that I haven't been able to talk about it out loud, lest I deafen/bore/squeeze to death the poor recipient of my Doctor Who based rant/high-pitched noise. So I'm getting all my excitement out in list form. Since I was not privy to the screening this blog has a no spoilers guarantee. Don't you worry, I'm just a crazed fan like you. So here is my Top Five Doctor Who Series Six Predictions.

5.Pond Legs
I predict that Amy Pond will wear the tiniest skirts in the most inappropriate and potentially life threatening situations. For example, maybe she's trapped in a pit and is about to be eaten by a giant sand beast. She looks around and sees a wall with rocks that jut out and decides to scale it to escape her certain doom. Surely this is a situation for jeans, yes? Potential knee scrapage and all that? To be fair if I had legs like Karen Gillan I'd wear tiny skirts all the time too. Also there would certainly be outrage from the male nerd population if her legs were hidden away in jeans so thank Moffat for Amy Pond and her wee skirts.

4. RUN!
My next prediction is the hallmark of many a sci-fi show, lots of running. Look out a Dalek! RUN! You will be deleted! RUN! Must find the Master! RUN! Shit, it's the Master! RUN! Flying Shark! RUN! End of the Universe! RUN! Pft, I'm all puffed out. I predict the cast will have run at least one marathon while filming. The Doctor doesnae dawdle, eh?

3. AAAH!!! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
As I mentioned in my preamble this series is set to be seriously scary apparently, a return to the hiding-behind-the-sofa-days for real. Doctor Who does scary good; the Weeping Angels terrified the living daylights out of me. I still get freaked out by statues, thanks a lot Moffat! But actually though thanks Moffat, excellent scare. Another one of his great creations was the Vashta Nerada, a swarm of carnivorous creatures masquerading as shadows. And of course who could forget the Empty Child. Feeding on a common fear of the image of the gas mask and making it all the more creepy by putting it on a child (for some reason children are always well more creepy than adults) and then making it a monstrous creature that turns you into a vision of itself with one touch. 'Are you my mummy?' An advert for staying away from lost children if ever I saw one. What could possibly be more terrifying than that? The Silence, apparently. Shit.

2. BRITAIN, BRITAIN, BRITAIN
Even though the opener is set on American soil, Doctor Who is, was and will always be quintessentially British. We've got all the good history, Shakespeare, Queen Victoria, Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, Winston Churchill and who knows who'll pop up in this series? The doctor himself is essentially an eccentric Englishman, with his bow tie and his tweed and his Police Box Spaceship, all iconic and all British. I bet Gallifrey was a bit like Britain, Britain with red grass. This series we are lucky to have an episode written by brilliant British fantasy novelist, Neil Gaiman. NEIL FUCKING GAIMAN! I am beside myself with excitement for that particular episode especially. As well as being dark and scary and all that this time around, doctor Who is always a caper and no one does a caper like we do a caper. Bring on the japes.

1. Domestic Strife?
The Doctor now has a married couple travelling with him after Rory and Amy's nuptials at the end of last series. How will the dynamics change? Will our Doctor feel somehow jealous of his counterparts because being a loan ranger has always been his thing? But then there's River Song. Who IS she? Who is she? Is she the Doctor's missus? Have Rory and Amy shown the Doctor that travelling through time and space with yer other half is actually no bad? Will the Doctor finally decide to pick a lady and stick? Oh the questions. Questions that may begin to be answered in T-Minus 20 MINUTES!

I will be back tomorrow with a short yet gushing post about tonights episode. Enjoy Who fans! GAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

The Crimson Petal and the White: My New Telly Crush

Eee, that Crimson Petal and the White were good, weren't it? Based on the Michael Faber novel, it's a dark and saucy jaunt through Victorian London's Seedy underworld and EVERYONE was in it, acting brilliantly and everything.

There's a plethora costume dramas on the telly so what's so good about this one? Well first of all it looks bloody brilliant. Victorian London's underbelly is more terrifying than I have ever seen it, screams that ring out down the foul streets are met with indifference by the toothless, drunken, pox ridden inhabitants. The soundtrack adds to the nightmarish, claustrophobic atmosphere, muffled as though it were being listened to underwater, it gives the feeling you are drowning in this filthy underworld. This eerie setting is where we find Mrs. Castaway's brothel where our heroine, Sugar (Romola Garai), earns her keep.

Articulate Sugar writes of the bloody revenge she would reek on the disgusting men who come to the brothel and I am intrigued as to the reason why such a bright girl should have had to turn to prostitution. When privileged perfume magnate, William Rackham (the lovely Chris O'Dowd) arrives at Mrs. Castaway's he is like all the others, there to escape from financial woes and a troubled home-life but he becomes entranced by Sugar and pays to have her services exclusively, eventually moving her into a flat away from the slums she grew up in.

It's all happening in Victorian London as we find out that Rackham is a bit of a cunt, selfishly indulging in his pleasures while his wife loses the plot at home. It's not been revealed yet exactly what is wrong with Agnes Rackham (Amanda Hale) but whatever terrible trauma she's suffered, it has turned her barmy. Seeing Sugar from her window one day, Agnes believes that she is her guardian angel sent to save her. Sugar becomes very protective of Agnes, rushing to her aid when she collapses of malnutrition and when William casually mentions that he and Agnes have a child together, the resentment for William creeps back in as Sugar begins to see how self-absorbed he is.

Having only seen O'Dowd in comedy before it was a happy surprise to see him in a dramatic role. Also, good English accent. Garai plays Sugar other-worldly yet powerful while Hale does crazy very well. The rest of the cast are as fantastic, playing the sub plots beautifully. Mark Gatiss plays William Rackham's sexually repressed brother who finds himself having lustful feelings for philanthropic widow, Mrs. Fox (Shirley Henderson). However, he set himself on fire and she's probably just died of consumption at the end of last weeks episode so disappointingly we probably won't be seeing much of them this week. Richard E. Grant pops up as the creepy Dr. Curlew and Gillian Anderson is excellent as wretched hag and Madame, Mrs. Castaway, who it turns out is Sugar's mother! Jings. It's like a mini-soap with nice frocks.

At the end of last weeks episode, Sugar suggests taking up the role of governess to William and Agnes' thus far unseen daughter. How will Agnes react when her guardian angel comes to live with her? Will we finally find out the cause of her mental delusions? Will Sugar carry out her acts of revenge on William? Will we get to see Chris O'Dowd's balls again? Tune in tomorrow night, BBC2 at 9, to find out...

Campus: ROFL?

I need to stop getting excited about new telly programs because they are related to old ones that I love. It's an automatic response which pretty much always leads to crushing disappointment, like it did tonight with Green Wing writers' latest effort Campus. The trailers were promising, boasting the same kind of over the top, surreal antics once offered by Green Wing. The scene with Sue White (the brilliant Michelle Gomez. Where did you go? Come back to telly, Michelle!) sporting the big Monty Python-type arms is still hands-down one of the funniest things I have ever seen. I was jazzed to see a much needed injection of surreal daftness rejoining television schedules that are over-run with mediocre sitcoms and bland sketch shows. Hurray for the weird!

Campus was slow to start, introducing us to each of the characters, all of which seem to be a rehashing of Green Wing types. Imogen Moffat (Lisa Jackson) and Matt Beer (Joseph Millson) are clearly the series romance. He's an swaggering womaniser, she's a anxious mouse, they're so different but there's chemistry there so watch this space... YAWN. Seen it. Next! Okay, how about the slightly pathetic one, Flat (Jonathan Bailey), who looks up to the womanising Matt Beer, following him about like a sweaty puppy? Oh, right, that type's been done too. Then there's the bizarre, brash, nutter, Jonty de Wolfe (Andy Nyman); he gets the bizarre outfits and the outlandish lines, a bit like Sue White, yeah? Well, to a point yes. The scene where he stands in a green dress, conjures a small cymbal bashing monkey from Matt Beer's sock and then disappears is very Sue White but Wolfe also has bouts of racist behaviour that isn't funny. I think the idea is that Wolfe is meant to be ludicrous in every way and we can see his racism as an offshoot of that but unfortunately it doesn't come off that way. It's eye-rollingly stupid and nothing more.

There are hints of what Campus could be, however; mechanical engineering lecturer, Lydia Tennant (Dolly Wells) is so far sublime, "At school they called me the big shit. Because I was a big shit. And also, I do big shits". Juvenile and crude yes, but also fucking funny. There wasn't nearly enough of her, hopefully she'll feature more as the weeks go on. Also Flat is actually quite good too. He said 'ROFL' and 'sexing'. More of this please. The setting of a middle of the road uni is promising too, and hopefully we'll see a bit more student/lecturer interaction (steady), providing good dynamics for a few funny scenes.

To summarise, although there were a few good bits, nothing as yet has been truly LOLful and I'm not really sure where it's going but I'll maybe stick around for the next few weeks to see if it does finally get off the ground. So unfortunately for Campus, with Green Wing as its sister, it's never going to be the sexy one.

The Return of Adam & Joe = Probably the Happiest Day of My Life

The outpouring of joy was palpable when it was announced that Adam & Joe would be returning to their 6 Music show for a twelve week run. They were sorely missed, especially by me and you probably, like somebody had ripped off my ears and wouldn't give them back for fifteen months. For fifteen months I wandered through the radio wilderness, dipping into my old podcasts on Cd's what I made with a melancholic happiness. There's nothing like listening to an Adam & Joe podcast or a Black Squadron command with fresh ears, this week my ears were once again made delirious. Since this isn't strictly telly, I thought I'd use this as an opportunity to revisit my favourite classic Adam & Joe Show sketches from their telly days in honour of their return. I was going to do a Top Five but it was well too hard so I'm rolling with a Top Six instead. They call me Tony Maverick (not really). Aye, so, here ye are....

6. American Beautoy
This cuddly toy homage, or piss-take, of the Sam Mendes classic (ahem) is packed full of quotes, overused by my brother and I and my pals. This is the opening line: 'My name is Molester Burnham, by the end of this film I'll be dead and you'll wish you were.' Brilliant. There are a number of other things that make this parody excellent: the monkey playing Spacey that weirdly looks very like Spacey, the Dancing Bag ('Dance ye fucker! Large it!'), the Real Estate Lion King ('Hakunamatata.'), to name but a few. Intrigued? YouTube! Go! Now! Or in a minute.

5. People Place
'Welcome to People Place, the show that goes wherever there's a place with people, in it.' I'll give the person who can name the original show being parodied here a MILLION POUNDS, not really, but I will give you props. Whatever its name, it was one of those filler show, watched by no-one for more than three minutes. The beige presenters seemed to travel to shopping centers and attempt to fill a show with the blandest gubbins you ever did see. The essence of it all is captured in 'People Place': the matching yellow jogging suits, the crap, mind numbingly pointless items ('What's in your boot?' 'Luggage.') and the bizarre asides('Take a look at this mug tree. Just give it a whizz and mugs there is!' See when I was twelve, THAT was the funniest thing I'd ever heard).

4. Star Wars in Their Eyes
Buckles and Cornballs parodies using Star Wars figures were always brilliant and there were loads to chose from, 'The Imperial Family', 'TFI A long time ago in a Galaxy far, far away.', 'Big Jabba', 'Chew Wants to Be a Millionaire', but my favourite has to be 'Star Wars in Their Eyes', mainly because of C3P0 and R2D2's homoerotic (can droids be homoerotic?) Pet Shop Droids. Dressed in the yellow pointy hats they sing 'Come on, R2D2 touch me,' (to the tune of 'Se a vida e') and for some reason this line rendered me and my pals helpless. I love that the premise of the film is that Luke finds his Dad (Darth Vader, 'member?) embarrassing when he sings karaoke: 'Gee Han, my Dad is so embarrassing.' The absolute best thing about it though has to be Mattchew Kelly, a plastic Wookie in a spangly suit? Aye, that'll do me.

3. The 1980s House
Sending up the, what I call, 'time-travelling home shows' (catchy, eh?) of the time, like 'The 1900s House', 'The 1980s House' follows the Fatboyslim family as they attempt to live life as they would have done way back in the 1980s. The house they come up with is actually pretty awesome, I genuinely want to live there, I mean they've got a telly alarm. Amazing. Seriously though, pull up the video on YouTube and check out Adam, the mum's, reaction to the house and also his hair. Both are fucking funny. Joe plays dad, Paul, who works as stock market trader. After champagne and a few lines of coke he heads off to work on his Sinclair C5. Ha! Why, oh why did they not catch on? Also after you've watched this, look for Adam's 80s song what he did for song wars, it has the same feel to it.

2. Omniken: Handy Andy
This sketch is pure jam-packed with LOLZ, ROFLs, LMAOs etc. Ken Korda interviews Handy Andy-Kane off of Changing Rooms, 'perhaps the most famous carpenter since Jesus'. Handy lives on a caravan site in Lower-Blackendecker. 'Handy was the youngest child of Randy and Mandy Andy-Kane and grew up along with brothers Dandy and Sandy and Sister Candy, next to the Wandsworth branch of B&Q.' *DIES LAUGHING* Ken Korda was a family favourite, with my brother and I impersonating his bizarre Morrissey/Kermit the Frog/car horn voice, great fun to do and very addictive, others may find you extremely annoying. Also Handy Andy is an excellent sport, engaging fully in the piss-take, creating art out of old junk which he calls 'Cryptosmashism'. But how does he find time after his 'DIY time' for 'ME-IY time'? Just watch it, it's fucking funny.

1. Dr. Spankles Hollywood Waxorama
An obscure choice maybe but it's my number one because it's weird, daft and uses real people as actual paying customers. Everyone likes them wax museums where the models move and talk, right? Well Adam & Joe test this theory by opening their Hollywood themed museum with shop dummies acting out scenes from famous films. First up it's Tom Cruise in 'Mission Impossible' and as the tatty shop dummy is lowered down, the looks on the faces of the customers are priceless as it begins to dawn on them that this museum might be total shite. Look out for Tom Hanks in Philadelphia, there are no words. Some people go with it and laugh at the crude exhibits but others don't look so amused. I would give my right and left arms to have gone to 'Dr. Spankles Hollywood Waxorama', so whenever I see a run-down, shit looking exhibit, I am going, lest I miss something as wonderful as the museum Buckles and Cornballs laid on that day.

Now please go and enjoy these and the many other A&J videos on YouTube. See you next Saturday Black Squadron! Why be Denny Different?!

Oh and Stephen.....?

Dispatches: Train Journeys from Hell or The Great Rail Swindle

I live in a part of the country that is pretty much cut off from the rail networks i.e. we don't have trains. We used to and the countryside is marked with the old rail lines, abandoned stations and viaducts. The idea of travelling by train for me is still, therefore, a romantic notion deeply routed in nostalgia for my home town when it was thriving with mills and cinemas and local shops. I soon discovered, however that my image of rail travel, mostly coloured by the Railway Children, is a loada rubbish. In January I travelled from Edinburgh to London along the beautiful east coast in the dark with a drunken rage strutting up and down the aisles singing Kasabian or some other generic lad-indie shite. I was no happy, it was fairly unpleasant. But after watching Dispatches: Train Journeys from Hell tonight it seems that I got off lightly.

Presented by one of my favourite people, Richard Wilson (you know, Victor Meldrew), whose own hellish journeys were interspersed with amateur footage of everyday passenger experiences. Dispatches were investigating why the British rail network has the highest fares in Europe while having the biggest government subsides. Bizarre, no? Overcrowding is also a massive problem (amazing fact coming up, get ready) worse in fact than when troops were demobbed and sent home after WWII. Mental.

The real shocker is the fares. The extortionate, ridiculous, a figure plucked from the air, fares. They're so ludicrous that there's no logic to them. Because the train companies are privately owned the fares aren't regulated. One woman tells Wilson that her season ticket was 4 grand. 4 FUCKING GRAND. The stations and tracks are publicly owned so our taxes are paying for the railways as well as our massive fares. I mean, what's it all about, Alfie?

The situation is so daft that a lot of the moments with Wilson are just funny. Like the automated booking service which requires some bizarre RP accent in order for you to book any tickets. 'No oiks on our trains please!' Wilson also resorts to sitting in the loo for one journey as he says, 'it's better than nothing.' He's an excellent host and he even throws in his famous catch phrase a few times (calm down, I'm saving it till the end) which just makes me love him even more.

On top of everything, once the extortionate fares are paid a lot of the stations and trains are ancient and dilapidated, so not only is your journey miserable because you're significantly poorer and the you can't sit down for your two hour commute, the train also stinks like a tramps musty sock. But hey! It's OK! At least the trains are on time, even when they're late(?) It's a swindle. A con. A jip, I tells ye! I mean I DON'T BELIIIIIEEEEVE IT!

Riches to Rags: A Normal Life for Lily?

From Riches to Rags opens on Lily Allen's final Brits in 2010. She's quitting music because she wants to start a normal life. She's going to open a shop with her sister that rents out designer clothes to those who couldn't afford to buy them normally. And she's using her own money to start the business.

OK so first of all a normal life is sadly unlikely for Lily Allen because she's Lilly Allen and she will always be Lily Allen. Secondly, she and her sister Sarah both admit that their relationship is a turbulent one so it's not exactly the best idea for a business partnership. Also, Lilly is no stranger to shopping for clothes but as she admits, she doesn't know what it's like for the average girl out shopping on a budget. So Lilly gets loads of proper high end designer gear which she will rent for maybe, £300... EH WHAT???? If I'm paying £300 for a dress I am keeping it forever, wearing it every day, even to the Co-op to get some loo roll, 'yeah, it's a Chanel, what of it?' I'm getting my monies worth, for real.

However, the business might be OK because look! It's Mary Portas! She's the Queen of Mystery Shops or something! And, as with the Beanie, amateurs! You must LISTEN! Will they listen? We shall see. Another thing that is good about her business is the name, 'Lucy in Disguise', it's catchy, it's clever, it's essentially a posh pun. Love it.

Sarah, the business partner and sister is a self confessed party girl, working mostly in nightclubs, presumably so she can party on the cheap. She doesn't seem hugely reliable, nipping off to New York to source some clothes and coming back having spent a ton of cash on what appear to be MC Hammers rejects. Lil ain't happy and her mood doesn't lift when Portas sets up a market research group that Lil and her sister both sit in on. The girls questioned said the rental price of the clothes was too expensive, obvs, and then when asked if it made a difference knowing the shop was Lily's venture, one girl said she was a bit put off. Lily's heard enough. She's off.

The above scene gives an insight into why she decided to leave her music career behind. The negative press she's received has clearly become too much for her and her career change seems to be a way for her to shift the focus from her as a person to the business she's hoping to create. Yeah, she comes across as a bit obnoxious and somewhat out of touch with the average girl on the street but she is ultimately quite sweet and likable. I really hope it works out for her and so I have some advice, LISTEN TO THE PORTAS LILY!

Wonders of the Universe: Science Gets Sexy.

'Why are we here? Where do we come from?' Two big questions asked by Professor Brian Cox as the opener to his new series, Wonders of the Universe. Yeah, we're all about the UNIVERSE this time. Hey, Solar System, fuck off! We're done with you, we're moving on to bigger things and you don't get much bigger than the entire Universe. And you don't get much sexier than Prof Cox. The opening shots of Wonders could (and should) be captured as still photographs and packaged as a calender. March: Prof Cox pensively gazing out over a glorious Arctic tundra landscape as if he is commander of the entire Universe. In aviators. Hot.

Seriously though, a bit of Cox perving (tee hee) is to be expected but it definitely shouldn't detract from his excellent presenting and professing. He manages to explain complicated scientific laws and theories, such as entropy (which I totally got, by the way. Ask me anything, go on), without patronising or overwhelming his audience. Although I am fundamentally a creature of art and literature, my skepticism and atheism mean that an understanding of science is the only way to add order to my universe. The concepts are so huge, they can at times be overwhelming so it's refreshing to have a balance in Prof Cox's no bullshit explanations.

The first programme is called 'Destiny' and unsurprisingly we look at where our universe is heading and how we know it will eventually fade away to nothing and I mean EVENTUALLY. Seriously, it's going to take aaaages. We begin in Peru, in the ruins of a temple built two and a half thousand years ago. The towers of the temple were built as 'an ancient solar calender' using the Sun's position to measure time. Already my mind is blown. That is completely AMAZING that such an ancient civilisation had an instrument with which to measure time. Prof Cox says he wants to build one in his garden. I've already drawn me up some blueprints.

Throughout the episode, Prof Cox uses often breath-taking locations to demonstrate the principles of time; a great Argentinian glacier illustrating the Arrow of Time; an abandoned mining town in the Namibian desert illustrating the laws of entropy; the Costa Rica coast by night to witness Sea Turtles nesting on the beaches, demonstrating that changes have happened around these creatures who have been around for ONE HUNDRED MILLION YEARS. Impressive. There are a lot of massive numbers like this, like properly massive, like we can't even imagine how massive, for instance, the death of the Universe is so far into the future, the number particles in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE doesn't come close to the number of years it will be until it dies, there were a lot of 'trillions' in there. Shit. AND life can and will only exist for the tiniest fraction of the life of the Universe. SHIT. So what's the point then, Prof Cox? 'We are the cosmos made conscious.' In other words we make the universe aware of its existence by exploring it. WE ARE AWESOME.

It seems the ultimate 'Destiny' of the Universe is to die, but don't get bummed out guys, Prof Cox says it'll be well ages till that happens and in the mean time we might as well have a look around.

It seems Prof Cox's science needs almost poetic language to really describe these big ideas. So we are presented with phrases such as 'deep time' and in reference to the end of the universe, 'Nothing happens and it keeps not happening forever.' This poetic language, together with the sumptuous imagery and no bullshit science, marries art with scientific fact making Wonders near perfect. And seeing Prof Cox striding around in various types of outdoor clothing, his indie hair streaked with distinguished grey blowing in the breeze and his handsome face turned toward the heavens, ain't bad either.

South Riding: A distinct lack of riding so far.

David Morrissey in riding boots looking all brooding and angry? Oh, all right then, I'll have a look... Morrissey perving aside, the BBC's new mini-series based on the novel South Riding looked as good as any other glossy, sexy, high-budget drama. Of COURSE I was going to watch it.

The story begins with a plethora of romantic imagery: a handsome man galloping astride a horse along a beach and over wild moors, a beautiful woman in red aboard a steam train as it snakes its way through the same wild landscape. The handsome man is (obviously) Morrisey and the beautiful woman, our heroine, Sarah Burton, played by Anna Maxwell Martin (off of Bleak House and Doctor Who). Now, I've never read the book but right away I knew it; these two are going to shag. Fact.

It's 1934 and our heroine, Miss Burton, is applying for the post of headmistress in an all girls school in the small English town of South Riding. It's clear from the off that this lady is here to shake things up, I mean, look at her, she's wearing RED! The board of governors doing the interviewing includes Mr. Carne (Morrissey) who seems to take an instant dislike to Miss Burton and she to him (they are SO hot for each other). But uh-oh, what's this? Looks like Mr. Carne's got some competition. It seems as though Mr. Astell (played by Scot actor Douglas Henshall, off of Primeval) has got designs on Miss Burton too. He's being all nice and sensitive to her (but she knows Carne would be a better shag). Despite Mr. Carne voting against the decision, the radical Miss Burton gets the post and runs off into the sea in a SWIMSUIT to celebrate. Saucy.

We meet two of the girls Miss Burton will no doubt inspire, Midge Carne, daughter of Mr. Carne and Lydia Holly, a rough 'n' ready girl from the rural slum known as the 'Shacks'. Midge Carne, played brilliantly by Katherine McGlopin, is clearly disturbed by traumatic events involving her mother and is highly strung to put it mildly. Lydia, played by Charlie Clarke, is tough on the outside (holing up her fist to another girl,' You see this? It smells of dead girls. Think on.' Brilliant) but on the inside she is a literary prodigy. Great characters, well cast all with their own interesting back stories, but when will Mr. Carne and Miss Burton sleep together???

Both Mr. Carne and Miss Burton have sad love stories: her fiance died in the war and his wife has been sectioned so both could do with a bit of sexy times. Towards the end of the first episode Miss Burton's car conveniently breaks down outside Mr. Carne's barn, so, sex is coming up, yeah? Well, he's having a bit of trouble birthing a calf so in a strangley erotically charged scene she stickes her hand up the cow and helps him out. Who knew sticking your arms up cows could be sexy? Even though she spends the night at casa de Carne, nothing happens. GUTTED.

When this weeks episode rolled around I was 98% sure that this was the week that Carne and Burton would get frisky. The events that unfolded while I was waiting were more than enough to keep me watching; drama unfolds at the shacks as Lydia's mother becomes seriously ill after becoming pregnant one too many times. Unfortunately it's too late for Mrs. Holly and she passes away leaving Lydia with the motherly roles, meaning she has to leave school. Midge, meanwhile, is turning into a right little rotter, torturing a poor old teacher to the point that she smacks Midge round the face with a ruler. Well, she deserved it. Hopefully next week will uncover more fully Midge's issues surrounding her mother. All of this combined with the corruption in the council surrounding the sale of land for an estate to replace the run-down shacks, made for pretty gripping viewing. And to top it all, it seems the big moment has arrived.

Mr. Carne and Miss Burton have, in another fabulous coincidence, booked into the same Manchester Hotel. And they're getting on, making eyes over a roaring fire, going out for dinner and dancing and then finally, they both decide the best thing to do would be to go back to the hotel and SHAG! YAS! So Miss Bennett heads to her room, tarts her self up in her sexy jammies and waits for Mr. Carne's arrival. And there he is and he's going to get into her bed but then - DISASTER! He has some kind of attack, possibly a panic attack or perhaps something relating to an old war injury, either way it puts an end to what was a sure thing. GUT-TED. Next week I'm taking no chances, I'm filling the telly room with candles and roses and oysters stuffed with strawberries floating in champagne and Marvin Gaye will be singing 'Let's Get it On' on the stereo, LET'S DO THIS THING.

Seriously though, bizarre and creepy fixation with fictional characters having sex aside, South Riding has been fantastic. The cast has been brilliant, the story gripping and as always the costumes and sets have been beautifully executed. I hope the conclusion ties up all the lose ends, the SEXY lose ends. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge (sorry).

The Rise of the Quiz Dicks.

When did telly quizzes get taken over by dicks? Everywhere I turn there seems to be some smug Quiz Dick telling me the answer to my question is wrong followed by a lengthy explanation of the right answer. Gone are the days when contestants had a 'lovely day' and went home with a carriage clock. Now they get a metaphorical kick in the teeth and leave with NOTHING while the smug Quiz Dick laughs condescendingly: 'Haha! Back to your hovel, simpleton, I'm a telly star.' Dick.

Let's look at some of the offending programmes, Perfection; a fed-up Nick Knowles hosts as our contender competes to answer a series of true/false questions correctly without letting in the 'Usual Suspects'. These 'Usual Suspects' are a rag-tag bunch of fair-to-middling quizzers who wile away the hours in the general knowledge waiting room, anticipating a chance to sabotage the contenders game. In order to achieve Perfection, the contender must answer the entire series of questions correctly, as you may have guessed. It is a bizarre game and rarely does it yield a winner. Mind-bogglingly smug 'actor' Carl actually won yesterday and I died a little bit inside. The plus side to this shockingly undeserved victory was that the spoils were shared with the lovely Adam and he got more monies than Carl the 'actor'. Perfection partly allows you to help out a fellow contestant but only because it serves your own interest, 'yeah, I'll come and help you for £6,000 of your £7,000 prize fund. It's not really fair but it's better than a kick in the teeth.' Sounds like a kick in the teeth to me.

Next up on our list of offending shows is The Chase. Hosted by an amiable Bradley Walsh, a team of lovely members of the public, or Normies, compete against the Chaser, or quiz dick, to win some monies which they will share. The Normies are generally lovely, the Chasers are not. One of three Chasers is wheeled out for each show; a sour-faced Miss Trunchbull (out of Mathilda) type who is generally unpleasant to the herds of 'stupid' contestants; a tiny-eyed, toad-like insufferable know-it-all who likes to explain why his answers are correct in detail; and a terrifying genius man who looks like he will not only beat the contestants but will also, as punishment for losing, lock them in his general knowledge dungeon, firing questions at them and administering electric shocks every time they get one wrong, or right probably. And normally, it takes ages for the Normies to beat the Chaser thus enlarging their massive egos and making me die a little bit more inside.

The worst offender, which hosts a whole panel of Quiz Dicks has to be BBC2's Egg Heads. A team of Normies take on a team of champion quizzers, spawned from past winners of Mastermind or Who Wants to be a Millionaire etc. Maybe on their previous telly quiz incarnations we didn't mind them, maybe we even rooted for them when it was just them on their lonesome up against nothing but questions. Good on them for winning. Well done. Now away back to your pub quizzes on a Thursday night where they have a picture of you shaking hands with Chris Tarrent hanging above the bar. Oh, so being a local legend isn't good enough for you, eh? You need to lord your superior general knowledge skills over us forever more, do you? Well not on my telly! OK, maybe on my telly but I'm not rooting for you anymore, go the Normies! Take the Quiz Dicks down a peg or two!

I still love quizzes like Mastermind and University Challenge showcasing astounding levels of intelligence and anorakism, just YouTube University Challenge and Guttenplan and witness a quiz super-geek. Incredible. And yes of course, you get the odd smugo you really hope crashes and burns but there isn't the sneering nastiness that is present in this new telly quiz format. Unfortunately it seems Quiz Dicks are now not only the resident know-it-alls but they are some Normies too. Don't rise to it Normies! Knowing stuff is awesome and winning is also awesome but don't be a dick about it. Being generous and humble and kind is also awesome so EVERYONE PLAY NICE.

Mad Dogs: Maximise your Simm and Glenister. Serious.

Sky 1 began its new drama Mad Dogs last night, with a stellar cast: Philip Glenister, John Simm, Mark Warren and Max Beasley. The trailers promised sexy, sun-soaked intrigue and I was especially looking forward to Glenister and Simm teaming up for the first time since Life on Mars. Did it live up to the hype? Well...

The story goes that the group are being flown out to Majorca by their minted friend, Alvo, for a reunion-type holiday. Fair enough. This Alvo is clearly pretty dodge though, taking mysterious phone calls, saying he's not in 'the business' anymore, he's 'out' etc. The script feels a bit clunky and contrived at times, explaining character back-stories through unnatural conversations, like the fact that Rick (Warren) is married to Quin's (Glenister) ex, or that Woody (Beasley) is a recovering alcoholic, or that Baxter (Simm with an evil little goatie) is divorced. Of course it's important to know these tit-bits of info but there are subtler ways to do it, rather than asking out right, 'how's the divorce?' Too easy.

Bad joo-joo is afoot when a dead goat is found in Alvo's pool but the guys don't ask many questions (???), instead they swan off to go 'clubbing'. Now, I'm not sure the director has been to a club for a while, it was the weirdest night out I've ever seen. Anyone else been to a reasonably quiet, up-market night club where the air is filled with whooping and hollering? Yeah, me neither. The lads also head out on Alvo's 'friend's' boat and more fake guffawing and horsing around ensues. There are some tedious lines in there as well, ('Are we all middle aged now? When did that happen?' CRINGE).

It turns out Alvo's a bit of a cunt and, as suspected, well dodge as after he lays into all his pals, a creepy wee man in a Tony Blair mask (will seriously give me the heebs for a long time to come) creeps on in and shoots Alvo in the head. And there the episode ends. Next week, the guys panic and go to bury Alvo and I believe there's money involved in a Shallow Grave type-way. Although, after all the fuss they made about a stolen boat ('We've got kids and jobs!'), I'm not sure how all this extremely criminal activity will come about. I may have to suspend my disbelief.

It is obviously early days and although the story was set up in a bit of a clumsy way, I still have hope that it might turn into something interesting, exciting even. I'm putting a lot of faith in the cast for this, especially Simm and Glenister, they will undoubtedly act their socks off, i just hope the material is strong enough. The scene has also been set for much conflict between the four, which may lead eventually to some kind of betrayal. So it seems perseverance is the key, don't let me down Mad Dogs, you've got Glenister and Simm - USE THEM WISELY!

Skins: Will they? Won't they? THEY WILL.

Skins, the 3rd generation, is up and raving (kids still do that, right?). The 1st generation was awesome; I am still, to this day, trying to get over Chris' death - HOW COULD YOU, SKINS?! HOW COULD YOU?!!! Anyways, then came the 2nd generation which, quite frankly, went through the looking glass so out I tuned (for reasons why, check out Adam and Joe's chat about Skins on YouTube. LOLZ). I wasn't sure how these new young hipsters would fair; drugs and sex or Haribo and studying? It turns out this lot are somewhere in between.

As per, we're introduced to the characters one at a time through an episode focused solely on their 'story'. First up was Franky, an androgynous new girl who's escaped bullying at her old school only to encounter queen bitch Mini on her first day at her new school. Unlucky, eh? Frankie seems interesting enough, although this first episode felt a wee bit tentative but here, the trailer for the next week looks good. And it bloody was as well.

Finally! A character not totally divorced from my high school reality. Metal-Head, Rich, is an amalgamation of ACTUAL lads I ACTUALLY hung out with at school. I myself wasn't a metal head, although the boys tried: 'Have a len of my Pantera CD, Suzanne.' My ears! I put it off and stuck on some Joni Mitchell instead: 'Fucking Hippy.' If Rich had gone to my school I probably would have fancied him, I probably fancy him now (actors playing teenagers are usually 30, so it's probs not creepy). Encouraged by his pal, Vivian-from-the-Young-Ones Lite, Alo, Rich sets about trying to get himself a girl with the help of girly ballet dancer, Grace. The hour that ensues is AWESOME.

Scenes are punctuated by metal yowling, a brilliant touch, Huey off the Fun Loving Criminals pops up as sage-like record store owner Toxic Bob ('Don't be an ass hat and people will like you more.'), and there is an excellent Rage Against the Machine scream along (I have taken part in a fair few myself). During her efforts to help Rich ask out 'the Angel of Death', who, it turns out, is a total bitch, Grace falls for Rich and Rich falls for Grace. Aw. But things are not that simple, obvs. A rare extreme metal track renders Rich temporarily deaf and, with his eyes as his only tool, he stumbles into Grace's ballet recital, where he finally appreciates the beauty of what she does. This scene is so beautifully shot that I can barely put it into words. If you haven't already, you NEED to see it. Serious though.

ACTUAL NAPALM DEATH turn up playing a gig that Rich can't hear, therefore neither can we, brilliant sports, but it doesn't matter because he's all about Grace by now. By the time he gets his hearing back and resolves to tell Grace how he feels (he gets her flowers and everything), Grace has decided that the two shouldn't be together because queen bitch Mini wouldn't like it. BOO! But now the stage is set for a 'will they, won't they?' story-line. And they will. They WILL, right? They better or I am finished with Skins FOREVER. But they will so it's okay (God I hope they will).

So I'm back aboard the Skins Express. Just to clarify, it wasn't the writing or directing that put me off the 2nd generation, it was the characters I just couldn't relate to. This time, however, along with excellent writing, brilliant and at times breath-taking direction, some characters are standing out as tangibly recognisable. So Skins, it is SO ON.

p.s. Please don't kill Rich.

Boardwalk Empire: It's BRAINS not CREAM.

A new channel? That's showing high quality drama from across the pond? Including brand new Mad Men? I was excited. HBO, king of the TV box set, has teamed up with Sky to launch new channel, Sky Atlantic. The 'stories' began on 1st February with a drama which has already won awards and much critical acclaim in the States, Martin Scorsese's Boardwalk Empire. The man with the weird face, Steve Buscemi, takes the title role as Enoch 'Nucky' Thompson, corrupt treasurer of Atlantic City. It's the 1920s and prohibition has just begun but Buscemi and his cronies are on a mission to keep Atlantic City 'wet', raking in the profits. Good story, eh? So was it any good? Em...

It'd be difficult to make a drama set in the 1920s and have it looking shit. Predictably, it's stylish, the costumes are gorgeous, the colour pallet has an almost sepia tone and the Atlantic City boardwalk is like a bizarre side-show where even premature babies are an attraction. The characters have obviously a long way to go, this being episode one, and Nucky is intriguing. Although he's crooked, he has his limits and doesn't seem himself to be a violent man. His relationship with Margaret Shroeder, a young, vulnerable woman is sure to develop and hopefully we'll see more depth to her character, as the cast seems to be a bit of a boys club at the moment with the women playing in much lesser roles. Michael Pitt (Henry off Dawson's Creek) has emerged as an early favourite of mine as his character, Jimmy, has just returned from the tranches and clearly has some issues that will no doubt bubble up as the series progresses. Another character I'm looking forward to seeing more of is the notorious Al Capone played by our own Stephen Graham (Combo off This Is England). At the time, Capone is young, his life of crime is just beginning and Graham is enigmatic as ever in his performance.

There were a couple of things that interfered with my viewing experience. The first thing is totally my own fault as the zeitgeist of my childhood bares a lot of influence on my adult brain, and it is Bugsy Malone. Yes, I said BUGSY MALONE; it's my automatic reference point to the '20s, sorry. Take the scene in the woods, it reminded me of the Bugsy Malone scene in the woods, remember? With Looney Bergonzi? THE Looney Bergonzi? Anyway, I'm thinking, uh-oh! These guys are getting SPLURGED! Shit! That guys got a hole in his face! And the scene towards the end where the guy puts on his gramophone and he's defo getting SPLURGED! Oh shit, yeah, his head's all on the gramophone. So what I'm trying to say is that the violence shocked me, as it was brains instead of cream. So anyway, my second beef is with the adverts. Too many adverts disrupting the flow of the programme; one minute we're watching Nucky head up to meet other city officials for dinner, the next Gerard Butler's telling me about his face, and now Nucky's sitting down to dinner. FFS. So it turns out the only way to watch it is to Sky+ it and fast forward through the ads, a little better but still a pain in the arse.

It seems Boardwalk Empire is a bit of a slow burner by all accounts. My verdict? S'alright.

Big Fat Gypsy Weddings: The Joke Isn't Funny Any More

Big Fat Gypsy Weddings is raking in the viewers with audiences of over 8 million in its second week. The series has emerged from the one-off documentary exploring the lavish phenomenon of the larger than life traveller weddings and sets itself up to be a further exploration of travellers, they're traditions and customs. Clearly it's a source of interest, as the travelling community is so secretive but, as the series is progressing it's clear that far from being a bit of trash TV, Big Fat Gypsy Weddings is something far more sinister.

Week one was a fairly jolly jape as we were shown the garish wedding and communion dresses and given just a touch of background info on travellers and traveller weddings. It ended on a rather sour note however, as we were shown a glimpse of the aggressive courting ritual known as 'grabbing', where a girl is carried off by a boy who twists her arm, etc. to try and get a kiss. But overall, the programme was more of the same, more dresses than documentary. Week two cranked up the disturbing footage, showing very young girls gyrating to hip hop like grown, sexual women and the eviction of one traveller site, leaving many homeless. This weeks episode was simply depressing from start to finish as it focused on the girls' role in the travelling community.

Young bride (although apparently old by traveller standards), 18 year old Lizzy, tells us that the traveller girls know their place: 'We ain't going to be doctors or lawyers or anything. Housewives, that's what we're going to be.' Taken out of education at 11, Lizzy became responsible for the housework and taking care of her younger siblings. Now that Lizzy is to be married, her younger sister, Margaret, is leaving school to take Lizzy's place. It's pretty heartbreaking to see a 13 year old girl shouldering all that responsibility, especially when she's clearly overwhelmed by it all. It's also easier to understand the extravagant weddings when you consider the supposed drudgery of many traveller girls' lives. For one day they get to be the most important person, they are the princess so it's no wonder they get so carried away. Everyone wants the biggest dress, the most lavish cake because then you're 'known for at least something that you've done', as Lizzy puts it. I'm not putting down women as housewives, but these girls seem to have no choice in the matter and clearly that's where the issue lies.

A shocking statistic revealed that over half all traveller wives have experienced domestic abuse, a fact that doesn't seem surprising when we see the way traveller boys treat the girls as the issue of 'grabbing' rears its ugly head again. When asked if they think that the girls enjoy it the boys reply no, but they do it anyway because it's expected. It seems these particular boys have been brought up in such a way that they have a sense of entitlement as they know that in their community, the men are privelleged to do as they please while the women have harsh restrictions placed on them from the get go. This goes some way to explaining the lack of respect these boys show for the girls when it comes to 'grabbing'. Dressing up this aggressive ritual as a 'tradition' or 'part of their culture', doesn't excuse the fact that it is abuse and harassment, plain and simple.

There is a glimmer of hope for the future of travelling girls in the form of Noreen who, unusually, has a job working in a cake shop and believes in living life before she gets married. Unlike many others, she stayed in education and can read and write better than most, including the boys. She wants to be the one in charge in her married life and would like to have her husband wrapped around her finger, a view probably influenced by her Auntie who managed to escape her abusive marriage, divorcing her husband and raising her children on her own. Noreen seems to be evidence that attitudes of some travellers are changing, if a little slowly.

Yes, the programme is interesting and provoking, with next weeks episode focussing on the boys of the travelling community, but the tone of the episode changes so frequently, with comedic music played over footage of 'grabbing', it's unclear what the documentary makers intentions are. Ultimately, this week showed that there's nothing funny about the travellers way of life as, for me, the lack of respect for women and the apparent violence outweigh the 14 stone dresses.

The NTAs? Pft.

So lads and lassies, the awards season is once again upon us with Ant and Dec picking up gongs in every awards show (did you see they were nominated for Best Geordie Duo Who've Seen Films this year in the Oscars? True fact). Last week it was the National Television Awards, an evening of pure daft decisions and undeserving winners (yeah, okay, so next year I'll vote). Clearly I have my own ideas of who should win what, that's why this year I've decided to create my own awards. So, ladies and gentlemen, without further a-do, I give you The Suzies!

*Rapturous applause, whoops and wolf whistles*

Ah, you're too kind! The first category to be awarded is, Best Show About Life and the winner is.... da da-da da da da da DA! One Born Every Minute. You've heard me harp on about how much I love it already, the lovely old-school midwives, the biscuit-munching-no-nonsense-receptionist, the labouring women, the helpless partners and the miscellaneous tag-alongs. The programme has heart and a sense of distance that makes it less obtrusive than other documentaries. The new series is shaping up to be just as good, introducing us to such gems as the unusual first-time dad Ralph. Much much more of the same please, Channel 4!

On now to the award for Proper Best Soap and in their monumental 50th year the winner is Corrie! Yes, CORRIE! Amazingly, Eastenders managed to take the award at the NTAs; voting public, what were you thinking?! Apart from anything else, when comparing the live episodes, Corrie wins hands-down. The acting was flawless (Fizz's over-egged labour aside) and there were no fluffed lines that I could see, unlike Easties, where Jack Branning stumbled over his words like an overly nervous 13 year old in a high school production of Oliver! The effects were a million times better, no unconvincing falls here, but fire and explosions and collapsing buildings all timed perfectly and realistically executed. Yeah, there was no big reveal like Easties' 'Who killed Archie story line?' (it was Stacey, remember? I'd forgotten too because we found out and then ball-all happened) but it was so packed with dramatic moments and who's-gonna-die? teasers that it didn't matter. RITA'S NOT IN TOWN! SHE BURIED UNDER THE PENNY SWEETS!!!! And another thing, Corrie's comedy is brilliant, sharp, well written and believable. Eastie's doesn't do believable comedy well; it's clumsy, embarrassing and NOT FUNNY. Corrie has Graham and Easties has Fat Boy. 'Nuff said.

Our third award of the evening is for Best Business-Person Programme and, quite predictibally, this award goes to the Apprentice. Oh, it was good. It was really fucking good. It brought us bizarre characters form the land of business who bickered/huffed/crashed/bullied/ambled/bullshitted their way through a series of ridiculous tasks. Who could forget the monumentally pointless DVD task? 'Would you like a DVD of yourself arsing about in front of a blue screen for a couple of minutes?' Answer, 'No.' Fair enough. Or what about the Bakery task? 'We know you asked for a thousand rolls, but we made you eighteen, would that do you?' Answer, 'No.' Understandable. But surely the King of tasks this series was the Tour Guide task. 'Would you like to join me in a lack-luster chorus of 'Knees up Mother Brown?'' Answer, *SILENCE*. 'And it's known as the gherkin because it's shaped like a gherkin.' Thanks for clearing that mystery up for me Jamie, I had always wondered...

This brings me on rather neatly to the Suzie for He/She is Something Else. Of course the winner is Stuart Baggs 'the Brand'. I could justify this category by simply listing but a few of his astonishing quotes so I will.
'Everything I touch turns to sold.'
'Das is wunderbar!'
'Why not? I'm alive. There's so many people that aren't alive, or have died unfortunately, now I'm alive and that's a gift frankly.'
'I need to reign in my extreme masculinity.'
'I'm not a one trick pony, I'm not a ten trick pony, I've got a field of ponies waiting to run towards this.'
'How good are we, that even when we’re shit, we still win?'
Etc. Etc. Just wow.

Up next is the Don't call it a Comeback award which goes to Doctor Who. After the departure of Russell T. Davis as executive producer, who took with him a number of well-loved characters and put them to bed, Steven Moffat stepped in to fill his shoes. No one was worried by this transition, after all, Moffat had previously written some of the best Doctor Who episodes, including 'Forest of the Dead/Silence in the Library', 'the Doctor Dances' and the terrifying 'Blink'. So rather than being anxious, I was excited to see where Moffat would take the Doctor and how his new companion, Amy Pond, would fit into the Doctor's world. The writing was genius, with excellent inventions such as the 'very old and very kind' Star Whale, the return of the Weeping Angels and the popping up of historical figures like Winston Churchill and Vincent Vangough. Sci-fi, it may be but Doctor Who as always covers universal themes of love, loyalty, power, despair and so on with incredible pathos and heart while still maintaining a joyous sense of adventure and of humour. Matt Smith and Karen Gillan are an excellent team and the next series should prove interesting as it sees the Doctor travelling with a married couple. I literally cannot wait, but I'm not sure what can top a flying shark, let's find out.

The final award of the evening is the Suzie for The Barriest Thing on Telly This Year. And the award goes to *drum roll* Sherlock. I fucking love Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis team up to create an updated version of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's maticulous 19th century detective. The Sherlock of the 21st century is brilliantly re-imagined as a highly functioning sociopath played by Benedict Cumberbatch, who is is pitch perfect and strangely attractive in the role. Martin Freeman plays his assistant Doctor John Watson, an injured military man adjusting to life as a civilian. Sherlock and John have an intreaguing relationship; they are reluctantly fond of each other until the finale of the three episodes when Sherlock reveals his hand when the two are faced with the mysterious villain Moriarti (who is just AWESOME). I won't reveal the plot for those who haven't seen it (have a word with yourselves) but the end of series cliff-hanger is so gripping that every time I think of it I get proper knots in my stomach, now writing this, I feel sick. I've had to come up with a method to block out the palpable terror that bubbles up in my gut: Oh, it's Flight of the Conchords singing a song they wrote for me called 'New Pens', while I draw spirals with the new pens and oh look, here come some puppies to climb on me and lick my face....

Further awards go to Peep Show for Most LOL's Per Minute, Big Brother gets the Cheerio! award and Charlie Brooker gets the Clever Trevor award for Newswipe, Screenwipe and You Have Been Watching.

So, thanks to everyone for coming out to the inaugural Suzies award show. Until next year, keep 'em square (your eyes, I mean. Catchy eh?). Cho!