Hidden meanings

 

 

I’ve mentioned Drew Pritchard before. He’s TV’s Salvage Hunter – a dealer who finds items in country houses, old factories, antique stores etc, then renovates them where necessary and sells them on for a profit. He is extremely good at his job, knowledgeable, has a fantastic eye and claims to be a great negotiator. And he’s a first rate twathead. He’s a complete self-regarder, full of his own self-worth and ability and annoyingly condescending to anyone and everyone beneath his station in life as head of a major trading conglomerate. Or successful rag and bone man. If you were looking for the definition of a diminutive Welsh businessman full of his own self-importance, then Drew’s your little boyo.

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Tosspots

I’ve travelled down this path before, it’s called Tosspots-on-TV Lane. Or people I see on the box who drive me fu**ing crazy. I could fill two pages with names but I might be repeating myself from earlier postings so I’ll try to keep it fresh….

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The Sopranos – mi piace tantissimo!

Here’s a little sequence of coincidences. One of the delights I get when over in Italy is going through our box set of the Sopranos. I love the programme but usually just watch it by myself first thing in the morning or later at night. Believe it or not it is 20 years since it first aired and it remains a great example of intriguing plot lines and brilliant acting. The series ended in 2007 and I’ve re-watched all the episodes several times since then but I never get bored with it. During our recent visit I managed to get through series 1 and 2 and most of series 3 – the early days when Livia was such a major psychological influence in the life of her son Tony, played superbly and with constant brooding menace by James Gandolfini…

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I bloody knew it

It seems only fitting that on the day that ITV announce that the Jeremy Kyle show has been cancelled for good, I should do a posting about television – specifically ‘factual’ series and the rather odd role that reality and truth play in their production sometimes.

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Trumpness

 

Well I could sit here all smugly and write about how unbelievably good England’s performance was last night. Even the Donald seemed surprised to see us qualify for the next stage after just two matches. Ordinarily of course we’d be out by this stage, ignominiously beaten by some minnow nation. But not last night as we put the rugby players from Panama to the sword. And yes Donald, Harry Kane is now the leading scorer in the tournament, impressive huh?

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BBCness

So here’s the thing. We’ve been watching the BBC’s Springwatch programme from the Sherbourne estate in the Cotswolds. We love its capturing of the nature scene at this most fertile time of the year. The features on the birdlife are especially captivating. But this posting isn’t about the nature; it’s about the bloody BBCness that pervades the programme. It’s like watching a  Corbynista nature park. Let me explain…

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oh dear

Well I said there was a risk of the last post being viewed as offensive and it proved to be. My daughter E gave me a right lambasting when I popped over this afternoon. She thought the posting was homophobic and just not worthy. Yep fair enough, possibly guilty m’lud. It is clearly being viewed that way which disappoints me hugely, not least because after writing it I reflected and immediately added a para to clarify my thinking which I thought helped articulate where I was coming from. Whether people have read that I don’t know. If not please check out this link again and then decide.

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