Who knows whether it’s true that the CIA and GCHQ are actually reading my postings but if they are here’s a little secret for them; one of my guilty pleasures is watching the Springwatch programme on the BBC. For the benefit of the guys in Langley, Virginia it’s a close up look at our wldlife in its most fertile season. It’s centred on a Welsh nature reserve and hosted by the dappy trio above and as you’d expect I have some foxy observations about them…. Continue reading
Well what do you make of all the sickening revelations concerning some of this country’s most famous and, dare I say it, loved celebrities? The list of shame continues to grow. Beginning with the creep Saville, the police arrest sheet now reads like a Who’s Who from 70’s popular tv – Gary Glitter, Freddie Starr, Rolf Harris, Dave Lee Travis, Jim Davidson, Bill Roache and his Corrie Steet mate Micheal le Vell (aka Ken Barlow and Kevin Webster) and that other couple of pervs from the Dr Who backroom production team. This week’s wretched additions to the list were Jimmy Tarbuck and the despicable Stuart Hall. Once upon a time these reprobates could count on some nifty footwork from PR specialists to keep their names out of the media but wouldn’t you know it the guru of hiding bad news, Max Clifford, has himself been charged with just the11 counts of indecent assaults on young girls. You might guess I’m full of contempt for these dirty old degenerates and you’d be right. Continue reading
Now everyone knows about the incredible Redgrave family of accomplished actors; Sir Michael and his wife Rachel and children Corin, Vanessa and Lynne and grandchildren Natasha and Joely and their various partners and other kids. And now a significant new acting talent has emerged from the ranks….
Look, I go away to Italy for a couple of weeks and I come back to discover that, in my absence, ITV have only gone and topped themselves by creating the ultimate in televisual hell. Yesterday, quite by chance, I stumbled across the horror that is the David Dickinson Show. How can I describe it? Think Potnoodles, Hear’Say, Blue Nun, Woolworths and Kiss-Me-Quick hats. It’s like the TV equivalent of the cross-over car that’s actually a shitbox. It’s a chat show with antique valuations with lots of audience participation and special guests, including a ridiculous game show called Seal the Deal, all hosted by the Duke of Orange on a set that looks like it was made out of packing crates and a few light bulbs. I think it might be on everyday in the graveyard slot; 3pm on ITV 1. It must be available on the IPlayer. If you can bear it, go and check it out. If you can tell me of a sadder, more hopeless attempt at fusion-format TV I’ll send you some of our very own olive oil grown, pruned, picked and processed with my own fairly gnarled hands. Nothing you can suggest can out-crap this pile of tat.
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Oh it’s been a huge televisual feast this last week alright. Last night it was the Baftas where we witnessed in the starry audience Avatar Director James Cameron surrounded by a territorial army of acolytes and flunkies. His retinue of minions picked up a couple of the early cheap awards for best lipstick and best outrageous skin colouring on an imaginary animated animal. And didn’t he look smug as he and new trophy wife anticipated an avalanche of Baftas falling into his arms. He doesn’t normally do less than 7 gongs at these events don’cha know? That’s to enable him to deliver the longest, most excruciating, humility-free acceptance speech where he praises every one of his many talents. Sadly Cameron was trumped by his ex-wife and fellow Director Kathryn Bigelow who garnered six of the big awards for her film The Hurt Locker. Cameron’s faced looked as tightly-pinched as a cat’s a**ehole as he bravely clapped (very slowly) whilst Biggers went up to collect HIS, sorry her, awards for Best Director and Best Film. Don’t you just feel proud to be awkward-arse British? Perfidious Albion, I love you. Continue reading
It seems like all the women I know have been captivated by it. It’s not the prospect of a blind date with John McCririck but the TV series Mistresses, which has just finished its second series. The plot lines are ridiculous of course but the four female leads enjoy, and occasionally regret, hours of exciting, dangerous and unfaithful love-making (and sometimes just plain old dirty sex) with a succession of great looking – and ruthlessly exploited – men. I’ve noticed that wistful look in my wife’s eyes.
Is it just me or are you angry too about all the revelations over irregularities in premium rate phone calling/voting patterns affecting some of the most popular programmes from our national tv broadcasters? The BBC and Channels 4 & 5 have all been found to have cheated/misled their audiences. Even Sky, who have taken a lofty position over the issue, had to admit last week to ‘technical problems’ that had caused one of their contestants on Cirque du Celebrite to be wrongly evicted. Yesterday the Deloitte audit into 60 ITV programmes found ‘serious editorial issues’ over the way premium/voting lines had been managed. Some £7.8m will need to be refunded by the company as ‘problems’ were identified with more than 10m calls from viewers. Mind you that pales in comparison with the irregularities involving 25m calls to GMTV, who were recently fined £2m by Ofcom for ‘widespread and systemmatic deception’. You or I would be standing before a magistrate by now. Continue reading
Pasta Paulie 