Terry Hall, the man behind Lenny the Lion, died in April.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Perfect Night In: Bank Holiday Special
As a special Bank Holiday post, here's the modern eejit take on Channel 4's recent Perfect Night In series. It's not a definitive list of the best telly ever, objectively or from a modern eejit perspective; rather a personal choice of what would make a great night's viewing (though, admittedly, it'd be rather a long night).
Let's start with channel idents. Well, they're the first things you see, aren't they? These are two classics and, though decades old, both seem really vivid and distinctive, now that every channel is going for the same kind of mini-lifestyle film (the BBC one is evidently taken from the close of programmes - hence the stirring anthem!):
OK, so onto the programmes proper. Early evening, so time for this:
Really charming stuff, and can you imagine a theme tune like that for a kids' show nowadays? We was really spoiled then.
Speaking of theme tunes:
and you won't enjoy the full majesty of anything like again that if the BBC have their way.
If we're still early evening then there has to be a episode of Doctor Who. Hopefully one like this:
Or this:
Or this:
Marvellous stuff! Now, maybe a bit of music after that excitement. Ah, good old Top of the Pops. That's where I first saw this, my earliest exposure to visual effects:
and where you could conceivably see something like this:
Or this Pops classic:
And, finally, some serious strutting:
True Reithian eclecticism. After that sugar rush I'd be tempted to take things down a gear with an episode of HTV's Robin of Sherwood. Amazingly we managed to follow the stories without any whooshing signposts in those days. As we're over on ITV we'd have to have some adverts. I love this one (and in the course of searching for that, found this, which gives a rare showcase to my spiritual home):
Staying on the commercial channel, let's slip in an episode of The Sweeney; maybe even the one featuring these two, shown here in one of the simplest and funniest routines I've ever seen:
Turning back to BBC1, I'd probably now go for an episode of Clocking Off - excellent and overlooked series of a few years back - or the eternal Potter classic, The Singing Detective; as epic and sumptuous as a nineteenth century novel.
After that, it's got to be something life-enhancingly stupid - this, say, or this.
Then, for an intentional laugh, an episode of the sublime Porridge - one of the Christmas specials, for a treat.
Flicking over to Channel 4, this was where I got my cinematic education, in the days before people started selling their houses on telly. I might never have heard of Terence Davies were it not for the screenings of his heartbreakingly-beautiful films Distant Voices, Still Lives, and The Long Day Closes in the early 90s - both of which are infuriatingly still unavailable on DVD.
'Infuriatingly still unavailable on DVD' leads me naturally to A Very Peculiar Practice, the second series of which suffers this fate. A funny, unsettling and melancholy series, product of a distinct authorial voice; who would have guessed it would be all bodices and bustles for Andrew Davies after this?
Ahh, Rose Marie! To finish, pint in hand and big bag of kettle chips aplenty, three slices of Saturday night telly, full of weekend glamour and silliness:
There we go. Proof, if proof be need be, of what a marvellous thing telly is - and what better way to spend a rainy British Bank Holiday than watching some, or all, of that?
Let's start with channel idents. Well, they're the first things you see, aren't they? These are two classics and, though decades old, both seem really vivid and distinctive, now that every channel is going for the same kind of mini-lifestyle film (the BBC one is evidently taken from the close of programmes - hence the stirring anthem!):
OK, so onto the programmes proper. Early evening, so time for this:
Really charming stuff, and can you imagine a theme tune like that for a kids' show nowadays? We was really spoiled then.
Speaking of theme tunes:
and you won't enjoy the full majesty of anything like again that if the BBC have their way.
If we're still early evening then there has to be a episode of Doctor Who. Hopefully one like this:
Or this:
Or this:
Marvellous stuff! Now, maybe a bit of music after that excitement. Ah, good old Top of the Pops. That's where I first saw this, my earliest exposure to visual effects:
and where you could conceivably see something like this:
Or this Pops classic:
And, finally, some serious strutting:
True Reithian eclecticism. After that sugar rush I'd be tempted to take things down a gear with an episode of HTV's Robin of Sherwood. Amazingly we managed to follow the stories without any whooshing signposts in those days. As we're over on ITV we'd have to have some adverts. I love this one (and in the course of searching for that, found this, which gives a rare showcase to my spiritual home):
Staying on the commercial channel, let's slip in an episode of The Sweeney; maybe even the one featuring these two, shown here in one of the simplest and funniest routines I've ever seen:
Turning back to BBC1, I'd probably now go for an episode of Clocking Off - excellent and overlooked series of a few years back - or the eternal Potter classic, The Singing Detective; as epic and sumptuous as a nineteenth century novel.
After that, it's got to be something life-enhancingly stupid - this, say, or this.
Then, for an intentional laugh, an episode of the sublime Porridge - one of the Christmas specials, for a treat.
Flicking over to Channel 4, this was where I got my cinematic education, in the days before people started selling their houses on telly. I might never have heard of Terence Davies were it not for the screenings of his heartbreakingly-beautiful films Distant Voices, Still Lives, and The Long Day Closes in the early 90s - both of which are infuriatingly still unavailable on DVD.
'Infuriatingly still unavailable on DVD' leads me naturally to A Very Peculiar Practice, the second series of which suffers this fate. A funny, unsettling and melancholy series, product of a distinct authorial voice; who would have guessed it would be all bodices and bustles for Andrew Davies after this?
Ahh, Rose Marie! To finish, pint in hand and big bag of kettle chips aplenty, three slices of Saturday night telly, full of weekend glamour and silliness:
There we go. Proof, if proof be need be, of what a marvellous thing telly is - and what better way to spend a rainy British Bank Holiday than watching some, or all, of that?
Saturday, 26 May 2007
Life On Mars: The Eyes of Fools
More evidence of moronic appreciation for Life On Mars (see this post) comes today from Teletext's 'TV Talking Point' letters page (page 199). I don't often venture to The Other Side (as it was called in the 70s), preferring my daily fix of idiocy from Ceefax page 518, but these two missives deserve reprinting in full:
Life On Mars DID win a Bafta which was chosen by the viewers. That's how police were in the '70s and I'm glad the BBC had the guts to broadcast it. I'm fed up of living in a world where I'm afraid to sneeze in case I offend someone.The staff make these letters up themselves, don't they? Don't they...?
Seb, Sussex
The judges were afraid of LOM, they knew that UK voters still want coppers who will do what it takes to keep streets clean.
Jean, Sheffield
Thursday, 24 May 2007
I Should Be So Lucky
Speculation aplenty as Kylie's stylist, William Baker, is seen with the item "When Doctor Who script arriving? Russell's number" on his 'to-do' list.
But, really, this proves nothing. Doesn't every fanboy walk round with this written on their 'to-do' list?
But, really, this proves nothing. Doesn't every fanboy walk round with this written on their 'to-do' list?
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
Moan, moan, etc. (an ongoing series)
From Digital Spy:
Richard Farleigh, a panellist on Dragons' Den, has been dropped from the show.It's not a very interesting story, merely another wearying example of the Daily Mail leaking its neuroses into our lives.
The businessman, who has put around £130,000 into ventures over two series, said he was "disappointed and bemused" with the decision. Bosses told him he was now "into the TV world" enough.
The Daily Mail says insiders had suggested he was dropped in favour of getting more dragons from ethnic minorities.
A BBC spokesman said the new dragon would be chosen by their "business credentials" and not ethnicity. He said it was normal that the show sometimes changed its team.
Saturday, 19 May 2007
Only stand and wait
Useful article here, which I'm prompted to highlight by my own disquiet at seeing the panel of judges on tonight's Any Dream Will Do (BBC1) - of all things - with yellow ribbons tagged onto their lapels. It really is mawkish in the extreme for this terrible story to be appropriated by a Saturday night light entertainment show. By the same token, I chanced on a Doctor Who website that squeezes in a 'Help Find Maddie' box between banners advertising a range of action figures and a Doctor Who podcast; I was going to upload a screengrab by way of illustration, but it's so distasteful that I've changed my mind.
It should go without saying (though obviously I feel it can't) that I would love to hear the news that Madeleine McCann has been safely returned. But it isn't contradictory to wish for that and feel deep unease at the sentimentality of these misplaced actions. Is anyone who knows anything about her disappearance, or in a position to offer practical help, really going to be moved to action by a Doctor Who website? And what are the ribbons meant to suggest? I would assume, by sheer dint of being human, that the panel of musical theatre judges feel sadness for the McCann family; it achieves nothing to parade that - quite the reverse, as it implies that they have some special claim on the case that I, being ribbonless, do not. But I do feel for the family, and, to the best of my knowledge, Bill Kenwright and Denise Van Outen have no extraordinary attachment to them.
It is awful when bad things happen, and frustrating when you want to help, but can't. But, with a case like this, most of us can't offer any help; we can only act as spectators. To pretend otherwise is absurd, and it is a fragile ego that is incapable of being content with that.
It occurs to me, as I type this, that someone might think this hypocritical, in view of this blog displaying a button highlighting the disappearance of the BBC reporter Alan Johnston. My answer is that the cases are different: Johnston has (it appears) been kidnapped by an identifiable group, that direct appeals can be made to them, and that the BBC, as his employer, have thought it useful to display support for him in this way. The button links to a petition and news pages on the case; it is not asking for information or help, other than to sign the petition. One specific plea for one specific action you can make, albeit a very small one. That's the difference between appropriate and inappropriate.
See also: here
It should go without saying (though obviously I feel it can't) that I would love to hear the news that Madeleine McCann has been safely returned. But it isn't contradictory to wish for that and feel deep unease at the sentimentality of these misplaced actions. Is anyone who knows anything about her disappearance, or in a position to offer practical help, really going to be moved to action by a Doctor Who website? And what are the ribbons meant to suggest? I would assume, by sheer dint of being human, that the panel of musical theatre judges feel sadness for the McCann family; it achieves nothing to parade that - quite the reverse, as it implies that they have some special claim on the case that I, being ribbonless, do not. But I do feel for the family, and, to the best of my knowledge, Bill Kenwright and Denise Van Outen have no extraordinary attachment to them.
It is awful when bad things happen, and frustrating when you want to help, but can't. But, with a case like this, most of us can't offer any help; we can only act as spectators. To pretend otherwise is absurd, and it is a fragile ego that is incapable of being content with that.
It occurs to me, as I type this, that someone might think this hypocritical, in view of this blog displaying a button highlighting the disappearance of the BBC reporter Alan Johnston. My answer is that the cases are different: Johnston has (it appears) been kidnapped by an identifiable group, that direct appeals can be made to them, and that the BBC, as his employer, have thought it useful to display support for him in this way. The button links to a petition and news pages on the case; it is not asking for information or help, other than to sign the petition. One specific plea for one specific action you can make, albeit a very small one. That's the difference between appropriate and inappropriate.
See also: here
Friday, 18 May 2007
One of the greatest desktop wallpapers of all time
Oh well, let's cheer ourselves up.
Yikes!
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Charlie Brooker slags off new BBC credits guidelines
No need to add anything, other than that he's right, again.
Tuesday, 15 May 2007
Eurovision: Not In My Name! UPDATE!
While composing the previous post, we received this breaking news!
- "Harmful to the relationship between the peoples of Europe"!
- Commons early day motion!
- "Five or six" countries "angered"!
Eurovision: Not In My Name!
Digital Spy reports that the Eurovision Song Contest was a hit for BBC1 on Saturday.
International joke
Despite the figures though, I just wonder whether it's all starting to feel a bit lame. The party line is that it's a joke we participate in at everyone else's expense, and I'll be the first to admit to enjoying Terry Wogan's undercutting of the saccharine and the pompous in previous years; it just felt like going through the motions this time.
There comes a point where, no matter how many funny remarks you make about how crap the thing you're watching is, in the end you're still watching crap.
Mind you, it did lead to Paul Gambaccini saying this:
See also here for more in-depth analysis.
ADDENDUM: Doctor Who writer Gareth Roberts agrees!
Coverage of the annual Eurovision Song Contest brought in 8.7 million viewers and a 39.9% share for BBC One on Saturday night.There's a lot of fuss being generated about block voting also, meaning 'we' never stood a chance at winning, though I feel that the UK entry (I can't bear to type that awful name) was simply too calculated and cynical in its lunge for campery.
Grabbing its largest audience since 2001, the show peaked at 10.30pm with 10.9 million viewers and 50.8% of the audience watching at that time, rising to 53.4% at 10.45pm.
Despite the figures though, I just wonder whether it's all starting to feel a bit lame. The party line is that it's a joke we participate in at everyone else's expense, and I'll be the first to admit to enjoying Terry Wogan's undercutting of the saccharine and the pompous in previous years; it just felt like going through the motions this time.
There comes a point where, no matter how many funny remarks you make about how crap the thing you're watching is, in the end you're still watching crap.
Mind you, it did lead to Paul Gambaccini saying this:
It may be the strangest reason for ending a war but if you want to win the Eurovision Song Contest again, bring the boys home.
See also here for more in-depth analysis.
ADDENDUM: Doctor Who writer Gareth Roberts agrees!
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Quick! It's started! (pt.2)
Brilliant piece of professionalism from the thinking person's channel on Saturday night as, having extensively trailed the return of Parkinson, including a headline interview with man-of-the-moment David Tennant, ITV bizarrely and surreptitiously move it forward 15 minutes. Most people therefore tuned in just as David Tennant was wrapping up. Even the website still gives 10.40pm as the start time.
Do people really just walk in off the street and "manage" the "schedule"?
Do people really just walk in off the street and "manage" the "schedule"?
Friday, 4 May 2007
New, improved nonsense
There are a thousand different ways that modern advertising can irritate, if you let it, but I can't let the current TV commercial for Miracle-Gro pass without comment.
It's the perfect example of the 'spurious need' school of advertising; in order to demonstrate the boon to modern life that is their current spray attachment (or whatever it is - I'm not entirely sure as my brain liquifies whenever it's shown), a young woman is shown (a) making a complete hash of pouring some liquid into a small container, (b) being utterly inept with a garden hose, and (c) somewhat flummoxed by a watering can. The average viewer would conclude that, rather than invest in a new piece of garden equipment, she would be better served by improving her basic motor skills, or buying a games console to work on her hand/eye co-ordination, or by simply being less crap. It's the kind of advert that really diminishes the splendour of humanity, and I wouldn't be surprised if many of those who have seen it subsequently become alcoholic.
I hate that supposedly winsome kid who sits on the bog complaining precociously about how smelly his crap is too.
It's the perfect example of the 'spurious need' school of advertising; in order to demonstrate the boon to modern life that is their current spray attachment (or whatever it is - I'm not entirely sure as my brain liquifies whenever it's shown), a young woman is shown (a) making a complete hash of pouring some liquid into a small container, (b) being utterly inept with a garden hose, and (c) somewhat flummoxed by a watering can. The average viewer would conclude that, rather than invest in a new piece of garden equipment, she would be better served by improving her basic motor skills, or buying a games console to work on her hand/eye co-ordination, or by simply being less crap. It's the kind of advert that really diminishes the splendour of humanity, and I wouldn't be surprised if many of those who have seen it subsequently become alcoholic.
I hate that supposedly winsome kid who sits on the bog complaining precociously about how smelly his crap is too.
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Quick! It's started!
Good article here criticising the BBC's cak-handedness with the scheduling of Doctor Who. I won't repeat it, other than to agree that, what with the current fluid approach to the schedule, and now the news that the series is to skip a week for the Eurovision Song Contest, it seems a perverse and foolhardy way to treat the show that has galvanized Saturday nights for them. It brings to mind the Monty Python gag about the number of exams you have to fail to work in programme planning, and that was made almost 30 years ago.
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