The Chokers

I love The Tudors. I love the costumes, the pretty people, the scenery, and the over-wrought and oft-ridiculous performances. It’s silly and engaging telly, and I wouldn’t be without it. Plus, I want to sleep with most of the cast.

But what in the name of all that is holy is Jonathan Rhys Meyers doing in this last series? Now, he’s an insufferable little prick to watch at the best of times but he’s really pulling out all the stops for series four. In series one to three, his general modus operandi was to SHOUT every single emotion, regardless of what it was, or at whom it was directed. When he wasn’t shouting, he favoured pausing after every two words in a sentence to make his point. He made his point, you could argue, but it wasn’t worth listening to after the second or third round of tedious delivery. He’s a very limited actor, there’s no doubt.

In series four, he’s upped it a notch and has taken to talking in a Very Deep Voice (whilst still shouting and pausing for every line). At first, I thought he probably had a cold on the day of filming so I could let it pass, but as it continued, I realised that he was doing it presumably because his character (Henry VIII) was getting old and he thought this would be the best way to convey his increasing years. It’s so really not. (Oi, director, you’re supposed to know things like this.) I know quite a few aged gentlemen and none of them speak like they’ve just started choking on a piece of toast, so it’s beyond me why he thinks that this is an effective strategy. Frankly, I think that members of the over-paid acting fraternity should know better if I do. I find myself looking at the screen and saying, ‘Clear your throat, man, what the hell’s wrong with you?!’ Or, at the very least, hoping when he started that carry on that someone had the good sense to slap him hard on the back a couple of times to put him out of his misery. Or, you know, his face. Whichever was closest…

Doctor Woefully Awful

It’s not often I break out the old blog these days, although I certainly have a few things in mind that I want to blog about. Let’s start with Saturday night’s Doctor Who. Oh dear God, yes, let’s start there.

I was excited for Doctor Who’s return at the weekend for, with all its faults, it’s a damn good show. And the good outweighs the bad. There’s been lots of coverage, of course, about the new Doctor and about David Tennant‘s departure from the role, but I’m rather more interested in changes in the writing team. Now, all due credit to Russell T Davies (RTD) for resurrecting Who after its 15 year break, but my respect for him largely ends there. RTD cannot write. He’s the head writer of a major television production, and he just cannot write. Something isn’t right. Yes, many will argue that if he’s given the time to think through his stories, and he takes the time to scribe coherent ideas, he’ll manage to come up with the goods. But I disagree. I’ve seldom enjoyed an episode penned by RTD, and Saturday night was no exception. Let’s summarise what happened. We had a wooden companion who we were presumably supposed to like, a handful of vacant and pointless characters who served no purpose other than filling out the numbers, and a sloppy story premise which involved – as it always does in RTD’s episodes – the end of the world. Again. Groan. The first ten minutes were wholly derivative of Midnight (another RTD story), while the remaining 50 were a mix of unimpressive special effects and RTD’s trademark ‘cryptic’ prophecies. There was little discernible story arc and there was even less to engage the viewer and make them care. So the world was going to end again or something. Isn’t it always Russell? The whole thing was just embarrassing. I was bored out of my mind.

One poor episode I could forgive, of course – God knows we’re used to them by now with RTD – but my concern is for David Tennant. He’s been the best Doctor, in my opinion (and he’s had some hard acts to follow) and I feel bad for him that this – this inconsequential, lazy rubbish – will be how he finishes out his days in Who. Tennant acts his little socks off every single time he’s on camera, and he himself must feel dejected that he has this nonsense to work with. I look forward to Steven Moffat taking over the writing team shortly, for he is very talented and he never fails to please, but it will be too late for David Tennant, alas. He’s just going to have to put up with these horrendous stories in the meantime and hope that his fans know that he’s better than them. This fan certainly does.

Ungrateful women and their feminisms

I always listen to Radio 4 in the mornings on my way to work. I’m in that demographic now, don’t you know. I’m nearly always leaving as ‘Thought for the Day‘ begins. For those of you unfamiliar with Thought for the Day it is, as the link says, ‘reflections from a faith perspective on issues and people in the news’. I think it would be more accurately described as patronising and sanctimonious reflections from God-bothers full of their own self-importance, but anyway. I find it insufferable.

This morning the Reverend Doctor Middle Class and Vaguely Disgruntled was doing his piece. He started off by recounting a tale of how he tried to help a young lady with her suitcase onto the bus. She declined his offer, and brushed his hand away when he offered again. This reaction, he blamed, on women’s constant quest for equality. If it wasn’t for the equality gained so far, he implied, women wouldn’t think twice about accepting help from a man. He tried to redeem himself, of course, by talking then about the disparities in earnings of men and women – and in doing so ‘approved’ of our pesky feminism – and then came back to the quandary of women not allowing men to help them when they clearly need it.

Seriously, Reverend Doctor Middle Class and Vaguely Disgruntled? Really? If I give you the benefit of the doubt for a moment, and believe that you genuinely thought that telling a story about a woman ‘in need’ would be a good introduction to a discussion about equal pay rights, I have to tell you that you’re a little naive. I know a lot of women – and I’m one myself – and I’m pretty sure that most of us don’t spend our time declining offers of help from men because we’re obsessed with equality. If you really need to know, I rather think that we women feel that it’s intrusive to be approached by strange men offering help (or anything else), that it can often be intimidating to be approached in such a manner, and that we decline because we feel uncomfortable and we would rather not have you near us or our suitcases. Is that unfortunate? Of course it is. In an ideal world, we would all be helping each other carry our butterflies and rainbows around; in a realistic world, we react as we do because we’re conditioned to do so by what we see around us. It’s got nothing to do with equality, or its lack.

But I’m not going to give you the benefit of the doubt. I think that for all your talk of equal pay for the sexes and of narrowing the employment gap, you think we women have got too much equality already. You gave your game away when you mentioned that ungrateful young woman twice in three minutes. You’re thinking, I’m sure, that she should have been happy to take help from you, the Big Man, instead of trying to assert her independence when she was so clearly in need. But the world, thankfully, doesn’t work your way any more. Perhaps the next time you pipe up on Thought for the Day, you’ll remember that it’s not all about you, and that women don’t spend  their waking moments trying to figure out how to get their equality points higher at the expense of people like you.

All dem Oirish sing lovely so dey do

Some people are horribly naive. And they clearly have no idea that they’re being offensive. Take Rose McGowan for example.

Hollywood actress Rose McGowan has said she would have joined the IRA if she lived in Belfast during the Troubles.

McGowan stars in Fifty Dead Men Walking, an adaptation of IRA informer Martin McGartland’s autobiography.

“My heart just broke for the cause,” she told a news conference ahead of the film’s world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.

Ach, her wee heart just broke for the cause (so it did). She ‘would have joined the IRA’ had she lived in Belfast during the Troubles (so she would). Well ain’t that just lovely!

Has this woman ever read a newspaper in her life? Has she any idea what ‘the cause’ was even about? Did she ever even set foot on Irish soil during the Troubles she romanticises so much? What does she think we Catholics in Northern Ireland were doing? Sitting around, signing our Irish tunes, drinking our cups of tea, and smacking the odd Protestant around the head? For ‘the cause’. No, we were hearing every single day of yet another bombing or shooting, we were being stopped by the army every time we left our homes, we were checking under our cars for bombs, we were being evacuated from our homes and schools, and we were wondering when the hell it was all going to end. And if it would end before one of our loved ones got killed. That’s what it was like in Northern Ireland, Miss McGowan. That’s what ‘the cause’ meant to most of us. And the Republican terrorists were no better or worse than the Loyalist terrorists. So why don’t you just take your ridiculous romantic Hollywood notions of the cute wee Oirish and their sweet wee passions and grow the fuck up.

England, England

Now, as An Irish ™, I’m not terribly bothered about what the Rough Guide says about the English, but I do live here, and as such I find myself objecting to these claims.

Apparently…

England is a nation of “overweight, alcopop-swilling, sex- and celebrity-obsessed TV addicts”, according to a new tourist guide book.

The latest edition of the Rough Guide says no other country is as “insular, self-important and irritating”.

…

On the one hand, “a genuine haven for refugees” with immigrants from more than 100 ethnic backgrounds, but on the other, “a deeply conservative place”.

England and the English have their faults, I don’t disagree, but surely this little island is no worse than anywhere else. I wonder if the writers of this guide have visited Alabama recently, for there you would surely find ‘deeply conservative’. Yes, they’re right that the English have become celebrity-obsessed (although I wouldn’t count that as one of their main features) but what’s all this about ‘irritating’? And obsessed with sex? Really? Where?

I read things about the very fabric of England’s society disintegrating every day, but I like to think that I’m able to separate fact from fiction, and mass hysteria from objective facts. Perhaps these writers simply aren’t. I’m offended on behalf of the English. This guide is unfair; and more importantly, it’s just wrong.

If you agree, you can have your say here. Although look out for comments such as those by Keith Hutchinson:

The most accurate description of this country yet. the only other term to add would be cesspit.

Pierre Francois:

Yes, I do believe this report is accurate. I happen to find British totally uncultured. Their heads of state are politically correct puppets without any moral backbone. The heir to the throne is confused over his own identity as to whether he’s Christian or not, and wishes to be “Defender of all faiths”. The British have no moral code of conduct within their culture. It is the ONLY country in the world that has problems with anti-social behaviour, and your accent defines your class.

And smitgw6079 (who’s used the opportunity to have a racist rant):

This is what happens to a country when all it’s traditional values are obscured by a multitude of other cultures.

Everyone but the real criminals are treated with suspicion, and we’re then rendered poweless (sic) to change anything by this idiotic government.

Instead of complaining about it, it’s time to change things ourselves.

[Link to the full BBC piece.]

Blocked

I’ve just blocked someone on Facebook for the first time.

I received a poke and this followed:

Me: Do we know each other?

Him: Don’t think so. Why?

Me: Because you poked me here.

Him: Well sorry, didnt (sic) know it would offend, did it? Just trying to get reactions ere (sic) lol.

I didn’t respond again. I mean, really! Do people actually still think that Facebook is Myspace and that everyone has 7,628 friends they’ll never even say hello to? It’s the risks you take with social networking, innit. I block.

Social networking gets on my nerves, frankly, and if it wasn’t for Facebook’s ability to make my keeping in contact with friends 100 times easier, I wouldn’t use it at all. (Although I would pay good money for them to introduce a daily/ weekly/ monthly email digest for notifications. The applications suck, to boot.)

But here’s the rub. I’ve ranted here before about the Facebook Invasion, although admittedly most people volunteer their information freely; and only recently, I’ve started to realise that it’s true what they say: despite it being ‘easier’ to maintain contact with friends on social networking sites, it’s made us all lazier too. Three word wall messages do not a friendship make. I resent that I’ve come to rely on Facebook so much, and I kick myself when an old friend adds me and I say to myself, ‘Great, we can keep in contact now’. Really (and frankly), we should have been keeping in contact all along. I wonder how much Facebook (and other social networking sites) convince us that we have more friends than we really have, and that we’re closer to our friends than we really are. When I calculate the proportion of my 200-odd Facebook friends I’m in active contact with, it all seems a little futile to me.

And then there’s myspace. Seriously, why does everyone on myspace have 7,628 friends? I think I missed the point of myspace at the start, and I’ve never been able to pick it up since. The fact that every myspace profile I click on (and I try not to click on any for the blinding colours and blaring music are just too much) lists countless friends increases my confusion. I’ve developed an unnatural hatred for myspace. And I intend to keep it.

Don’t even get me started on bebo.

I’ve forgotten the point of this entry. Yes, blocked. I’ve got a headache.

Lifetime committment

I’m going to complain about Facebook’s treatment of relationships again.

Not only did I find out through three notices on Facebook yesterday that a friend reconciled with her boyfriend over the weekend, but today I was greeted with this ludicrousness:

Ross and Linda (*) are married. Ross and Linda made a lifetime commitment to one another, and let everyone on Facebook know.

A lifetime commitment to each other? Says Facebook. Because Facebook knows them both very well. What Facebook didn’t mention is that is Ross and Linda actually ‘made a lifetime commitment’ to one another three years ago, have since had a child and are thinking of buying a new house together in the coming months. But they ‘let everyone on Facebook know’ did they? Well thank you, Facebook, for reporting this joyous news. What else do you know about Ross and Linda that they let everyone on Facebook know?

You’re a fvcking website, Facebook. Don’t pretend to know people. Don’t tell their friends about ‘lifetime commitments’ in that generic, presumptuous and obnoxious tone you seem to have recently adopted. I’m fast becoming convinced that you really are being operated by the American Right. Let’s hope Ross and Linda never break up, huh? What then will I be greeted with?

Ross and Linda (*) are now divorced. Ross and Linda turned their back on their lifetime commitment to one another, and let everyone on Facebook know. They will burn in hell now, just as they deserve.

—

(*) Names removed to protect the innocent.

Now listed as missing

It’s the aspect of Facebook I like least, I think (notwithstanding the alleged CIA/ KGB/ IRA/ FBI/ SNP involvement). I’m referring, of course, to that little box on your profile which tells the whole world – or at least those people in your whole world who have access to your profile – whether you’re coupled up or not. I wouldn’t mind that so much, if it weren’t for the ease with which Facebook informs anyone who’ll listen that you’re no longer coupled up and are now, in fact, SINGLE.

Every day on my Facebook ‘news’ feed, I see the words: Charlene Bloggs is now listed as ‘in a relationship’ and Charlie Doe is now listed as ‘single’. I always ask myself two things: ‘again?!’ and ‘why is it always indicated by a little heart, no matter the outcome?’.

Nowadays, I long for the times when Charlene getting herself a lad (or a lass), and Charlie returning to singledom for a while, were more private affairs, but it seems we’ve gone beyond that now. I somehow resent reading about my friends’ most intimate stories on a stark white page, even if they did choose to put them there themselves. It’s clinical in a very 21st century way; we don’t even need to sympathise any more.

But most of all I think about those who are surely, every day, dumped by Facebook. It must be quite something to log on of a morning only to find that you’ve returned to your own singledom, and that you’re very likely the last to know about it.

I was dumped on Facebook. (Sorry about the Torygraph link there, peeps.)

The Mighty Bore

Oh, my dear Mighty Boosh, how I used to love you and your funny old ways; and now how thoroughly mundane you are.

Step one: Check it out! I’m Vince and I’m whacky!

Step two: Check it out! He’s Howard and he’s anal.

Step three: Check it out! Watch us sing a song you’ve all heard us sing before.

Step four: Check it out! Here’s a cockney geezer.

Step five: Check it out! Now watch us roll our eyes at each other because I’m WHACKY and he’s ANAL!

Step six: Check it out! Here are some bright colours. You always like them.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse…

*yawn*

DNA. It could happen to you.

Now, I enjoy Stephen Colbert as much as the next person, but I do find him very inappropriate at times. Yes, I understand that it’s satire – and I do love me some satire – but there are some issues around us today which are not to be laughed at.

This week, one of the shows on The Colbert Report was called: “DNA. It could happen to you.” That’s not an offensive title by any means, and he was humourous about the science of DNA etc., but I object to the segment he did with a former prisoner who had recently been released when contrary DNA evidence was presented in his case. Colbert’s interview with the man – who was by no means as articulate or quick as Colbert – was based on the assertion that Colbert, as a ‘law and order man’, believed this chap’s conviction should not be overturned with DNA evidence.

It was all said in jest of course, and we weren’t supposed to be taking Colbert seriously, but I find making fun of such a serious issue objectionable. Innocent people have been executed because there’s been a lack of DNA evidence to clear their names; and now that such evidence is obtainable, I think it’s irresponsible to mock its use.

I’ll always laugh at Colbert’s reports on trivial matters, but when he starts to get derisory about crime and justice issues in a prison- and death-penalty-friendly country like America, it becomes unacceptable.