This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty-Five.

Theatre 'The Frieze' reviews Jeremy Deller's The Battle of Orgreave. One of the pivotal moments of the 1984/85 miner's strike was recreated in the style of medieval re-enactments. A heritage day out and social commentary all in one: "Any rail passengers staring out of the window as they sped through south Yorkshire on June 17th would have had the double-take of their lives: 800 or so miners and policemen, in period jeans and uniforms, could be seen slogging it out in a field as if no one had bothered telling them the miners' strike of 1984-5 had long been called off."

Archaeology The Dead Sea Scrolls too fragile to travel. Oh really ... there has always been a debate within museum circles about the viability of moving objects for exhibition and whether the risks involved outweigh the educational value. To move the scrolls for an exhibition at the Olympics is surely for entertainment not education. Doesn't seem like a fair risk to me -- and surely they need the context of the original setting...

Opinion The Sunday Post's usually mild mannered reporting has been overtaken by a mood of danger. Terrorists — are you listening . . . puts into words what many of us are thinking -- and without the cautiousness of London journalists: "Your goal was to divide us. You made us stronger. You brought us together. We are truly indivisible. United we stand, with liberty and justice for all. Even you. Be aware of the FBI. See them track your every move. Watch your back. Our armed forces are on your trail. Attention, terrorists . . . observe. Stop running for just a moment. Listen and look and smell and hear and feel. You must. But then resume running. You have the United States of America on your heels!" *

* Editor's note.  How times change.  The old website for The Sunday Post only ever used a limited number of URLs for its news stories so when they posted something new, they'd just swap out the content of that page rather than generating a new one.  The Wayback Machine only caught up with it in February 2002 so instead of 9/11 it's about Will Young winning Pop Idol.  But someone reading the blog in October 2001 would also have seen some else too.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty-Four.

Void

Time stopped.
Or so it seemed.
For him, floating in the void, nothing worse could happen.
The loneliness wan't like anything he had experienced before in his life -- perhaps, he thought, to anyone in anylife.
After all - he was the first to get into this situation, he supposed.
Strangely, he didn't feel the terror he should have experienced in expectation.
He felt oddly optimistic that something eas going to happen.
Soon.
Time went by.
He tried to remember how he had found himself in this situation.
He found it impossible.
He began to spin.
He didn't know why he was spinning.
As he spun, he tried to use the inertia to move even quicker forward.
He succeeded.
The problem was he wasn't going anywhere.
He didn't care.

TV US attacks in West Wing storyline -- at a time when the US entertainment arts when actively ignoring world events, it's not surprising that the current second best programme on TV (behind Buffy, obviously) should be confronting this issue head on. It is difficult to see how as such an event within the fictional realm of the series would more than likely cast a show. Dream sequence?

Radio Danny Baker is broadcasting again -- on the not at all nation BBC London Live. Aha -- but it's broadcast on the web -- between 8am and 11am on a Saturday, while I'm on my way to work. Denied, I feel...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty-Three.

Music I will say one thing about 'America: A Tribute To Heroes'. What was Natalie Imbruglia doing singing backing vocals for U2?

Net The Brains Trust watches the Internet reach the parts other global information sources cannot reach...

Fashion Marks & Spencer's new print campaign featuring a stunning model in lingerie revisits the Wonderbra's 'Hello Boys' series of the early 90s. But you get the feeling they'll need more than this to turn around the fortunes (especially in the present economic climate. The article talks up the hiring of George Davis to revamp (yet again) their range. Bet they wish he didn't make it sound like charity work: "When I got the call from M&S, I realised it had been in my pores all my life. Also, they were getting so much stick. It was a feeling of 'Let's try and help M&S, it's part of our culture'."

This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty-Two.

People Recent events meant that the Conservative leadership contest all but disappeared into a new black hole -- the only sign being that some other bald person is now pontificating in a blue tie. I was reminded of the only time I met a Conservative in person. I was at a small but perfectly formed Waterstones, and who should be there signing copies of his memoirs, but Michael Heseltine. I could tell it was him, because amid his agent, bookshop rep and security guard, not a soul was around. Actually to be fair to the book chain, the shop was packed, but there was just no one around him. He sat dejectedly behind his desk in the window chatting politely to the rep and glancing now and then at his ex-voters striding past not giving him a second glance – or looking like they were trying not to. And in the twenty minutes it took me not to find the book I was looking for, his only visitor was a Young Conservative who looked for all the world like Nigella Lawson. I thought about approaching just to see what he was like, put to be honest I also had more fun walking past him...

Architecture Rachel Whiteread's 'House' despite protestations to the local council by the art world, was always going to be a temporary structure. The latest momentary vignette features an architect who's structure was designed to be far from temporary until it was destroyed by the ultimate act of 'vandalism'.

Music Tara Palmer-Tomkinson lists her top five classical pieces. Strange seeing Zadok The Priest in there, which I've actually sang for the Queen (I've been about a bit you know). The Queen was visiting Liverpool one day during my last year at secondary school. Someone decided it would be good idea to fill the Anglican Cathedral with school kids and have them sing Handel very loudly, whilst other kids offered a martial arts demonstration. We practiced solidly for two weeks, frequently after school and on the day the big church looked a treat, and even though we had all rehearsed separately, all of the schools sounded epic. And even the anti-royalists amongst us (of which I'm on the edge) were excited about meeting her majesty. So the time came and we began to perform -- and she walked past us, not batting an eyelid -- not that she could miss us. She seemed more engaged with the flowers she'd collected on her way past us. Perhaps she isn't as big a fan of Handel as Tarapt (appears twice in her top five) -- but many of us never forgave her for the slight...


This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty-One.

Music Catatonia is catatonic...and many other tabloid headlines will ensue. Anyone who saw Cerys fawning over PAUL CLARKE! on 'Big Brother's Little Brother' those few short weeks ago will have known it was on the cards. Cerys seemed at best loopy, at worst deeply fragile. Looks like Gorki's Zygotic Mynci are Wales's number one band again. About time too... *

* God, I was little shit then wasn't I?

This Blog In September 2001: Day Twenty.

Dreams I remembered my dream for the first time in a long while the other night. I had gone to the old cinema which features in many of my dreams, a cinema which doesn't exist. I'd gone to see a French film which as far as can gather doesn't exist. I was the only one there (which is unusual, as the place is usually filled with everyone I've ever met). At the end I visited the box office to buy a ticket for the next showing to find the actress Laura Fraser working behind the counter (recent star of 'A Knights Tale', biggest film to date 'Virtual Sexuality'). She was leaving and I followed. We walked across a derelict urban wasteland. I asked her what she doing working in a box office and she told me it was because whilst she enjoyed acting she still wanted to have a normal life. I smiled. And as we walked we began to hold hands. She invited me to her house -- a giant shared accommodation in the middle of a large city which appeared from nowhere. I stood on the step and told her I had to go. We kissed, but she pulled away, because I didn't know how to kiss her -- and she disappeared into the house without another word -- I followed her in and the scene merged into a road and I was suddenly on the back of bicycle being pedalled along by the Python Eric Idle (now not then) dodging cars at an endless series of crossroads -- and then I woke ... what the hell does all that mean?

This Blog In September 2001: Day Nineteen.

Drink Hey everyone, something of quandary. Whenever you don't have time to blog, should you write an entry to say that you don't have time to blog, who simply not blog? Either way, I'm going out to the pub, and so well ... you'll have to look elsewhere for your enlightenment. Try one from the list of 'happenings' to the bottom right, or take a chance with the webrings on the bottom left ... I'm sure you'll find something at least a bit funny...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Eighteen.

Books I’d forgotten I was going to see Dave Gorman read from his new book 'Are you Dave Gorman?' tonight. Or rather I’d forgotten until yesterday, when I remembered. As always when deciding these things, I have to weigh up whether its worth staying late in Manchester in the knowledge that I won’t be home by ten o’clock, and I’ve been a bit trepidatious about visiting these Waterstones readings in the past – but I decided that as this was a personality I was onto a good thing.

The arts section had been done out in flimsy plastic chairs for occasion. The room filled and eventually a man looking for all the worlds like the ‘It’s…’ character in Monty Python approached from the side and spoke in a voice entirely familiar to fans of Droopy: “Thank you for coming to this reading at Waterstones. Tonight we have Dave Gorman and his friend Danny Wallace reading from their book. So let’s welcome Dave Gorman and Danny Wallace.”

There is something about almost famous people in person. They’re not larger than life characters to begin with, and so when you meet them, it’s a bit like seeing someone at a party. And so it went. Strangely Danny Wallace (who sat silently during the TV series) had as much to say as Dave Gorman, perhaps making up for lost time. Luckily, they are both automatically funny and so were able to paper over cracks in the presentation.

We were aware from the beginning that Dave would not be doing stand-up – he really would be reading from a book. Amusingly, the audience got to choose between the actual book, a DIY handbook and a book about Heraldry. Luckily for them we chose their book (it would have taken a Herculean task for anything else) and the two set about reading.

The first section dealt with their first meeting and subsequently how the bet began. For those not in the know, this consisted of Gorman betting Wallace that he could find fifty-four Dave Gormans, including the jokers. A fool task, entirely paid for on a credit card, but instant material for the comedian. Both were clear readers, Gorman’s writing in particular mirroring his stand-up delivery. Wallace’s words exude his obvious journalistic background. The second section, chosen at random from a deck of cards spoke of the Israeli Dave Gorman – somewhat prescient.

As if to prove that you can’t get away from anything in the Q&A section, the mood darkened as someone asked why Gorman had cancelled a gig at The Lowry Gallery. It was because he was flying to New York for a six week run in an off-off-Broadway theatre in the seclusion zone....

Art During it's recent refurbishment Tate Britain tried a noble experiment. Forgoing the traditional chronological hanging method, they grouped the pictures into themes. This had the effect of taking the works from their original contexts. In the past few weeks, they've back tracked somewhat, and there are now galleries dedicated to single artists. How dull.

Music Liam Gallagher offers his usual rational response to International politics: "I ain't fucking going to New York again. I'm never going to America again man. I'm staying put. I ain't getting on a plane for a long time." Oasis never made it in America, did they?

History The 80s Sever presents the hyperlink essay, "Children Of The Eighties" by Bryant Adkins. It's mostly American but there are one or two things I can relate to: "On weeknights Daisy Duke was my future wife. I was going to own the General Lee and shoot dynamite arrows out the back. Why did they weld the doors shut?"

This Blog In September 2001: Day Seventeen.

Life People are describing this time as the aftermath. After what? This isn't over yet. Not yet. This is a pause. A respite. A moment of reflection. A preparation for the coming whatever.

Sounds Whenever I'm at the supermarket with my parents, we always get separated. I'll be off in the bread isle when they'll disappear into the frozen food. The only way we'll ever find each other is a whistle -- a particular whistle we only know. My Dad's is the best -- it's loud and turns the heads of all about. By comparison mine is a whisper -- they need to be an isle away before they can hear it -- sometimes just in front. I thought it was just us. But it seems many family have some way of communicating over long distances. This month's Lost and Found sound is 'The Loon Call' a whine which radio producer's Brent Runyon's family have used for generations to call each other to dinner -- which he unfortunately can't replicate. Can I relate...

Money I know almost nothing about the markets -- but even I know this can't be good...

Yeah! I've had a via from the blog which made me want to start all this in the first place linkmachinego. Thanks for reading...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Sixteen.

TV Turning the classic movie 'Clerks' into a US network cartoon series was a massive job, and a definite risk -- would fans be happy about the toned down dialogue and would the audience understand the in-jokes or humour. Well they didn't and the show was cancelled after just two episodes. And here is one of them available for viewing at iFilm -- Click here -- it's really rather good.

Ugh! The genius behind this boxset must surely have been behind this and this. It's almost as though they've visited the Internet Movie Database and looked for all of the miss-steps in an actors career to collect together for our entertainment. This, however must be applauded for its far-sightedness.

Review! Anonymous Juice reviews The Knobs at the Virgin Megastore Listening Booth: "In the Megastore the listening booth was crowded with Geri Halliwell fans. They're a serious bunch: they stand with their legs apart, foreheads bowed, listening intently for the secret parable inside "It's Raining Men" The only two who were actually moving to the music were the dorks my headphones were sandwiched between."

People When President Bush spoke for the first time after the present crisis began he stumbled. At a time when he should have been capturing the spirit of the the moment he described those behind the act as 'folks' -- as though these were a couple of hicks in the wilderness chasing a bird with bazooka guns. Folks!?! It appears this isn't the first time. This article from The Atlantic, published a week ago describe's Bush's other linguistic errors:

"How can a man who says things like, "Laura and I don't realize how bright our children is sometimes until we get an objective analysis"; "My education message will resignate amongst all parents"; "I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family''; and "I want a foreign-handed foreign policy"—how can this verbal sloven be President of the United States?"

On Radio Five this morning one of Bush's ex-employees apologetically expressed the opinion that whilst the Amercian president is not a good public figure, he is a master in private. In times like these we need someone who is an all rounder surely?

Music Atomic Kitten due home after attack 'trauma' -- was everybody in New York on Tuesday, apart from in our imaginations? Five kitten mentions down, four to go...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Fifteen.

News As journalists begin to acknowledge there is other news happening, I too find it's possible to write and think about other things. I do agree with sentiments at the end of this article [dead link] that everything has changed. The world doesn't seem as interested in showbiz types and soap operas -- real life dramas have become much more potent.

Books Whilst some sections of the BBC On-line website are sleek and indispensable, other creek under the burden of having to be a bit like Radio Four. Buried seep within is this piece, which revels under the title 'Star Wars: Science Fiction or Fantasy.' Featuring bizarre colour choices and a Darth Vader in an 'your empire needs you' pose. Why can't it be both? "Underlying his universe is The Force, a mysterious phenomenon which is part karma, part Holy Ghost and part repository of the identity of the dead and which mostly manifests itself as a means to move objects without touching them. Essentially magic, this, along with the setting "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away", situates Star Wars more comfortably within the fantasy genre rather than the sf." Doesn't that seem like a post from a long lost usenet flame war?

This Blog In September 2001: Day Fourteen.

Life Observed the three minutes silence in the end today anyway -- strange to be doing so in the kind of office those people lost their lives in. Just underlined how lucky we are to be alive.

Blogs! Still finding it difficult to write anything too intelligible, so I thought I'd present a sample of some of the posts on soem of my favourite blogs over the past few days which have touched me. I'll just list the site name and let their work speak:

sapphireblue
girlhacker
damnyoumaria
caterina
wockerjabby
sublimity
silvergull
girlrepair
annakiss *

The thoughts and stories of the blogging community have been largely ignored by the mainstream media, perhaps because in many cases we find a truer picture.

* These are the names of the blogs which were listed here.  They're all gone away now so no point linking to them.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Thirteen.

Life The bus to the station was deathly quiet again this morning. Apart from a baby crying. It is getting easier to live now, although everything is still in the back of my mind. I simply can't understand why this has affected me, whilst my co-workers and people I see about seem to be able to get on with their lives efficiently. My Mum said it was because of 'The way you are.' I wonder what that means. I think I'm mostly filled with foreboding about the days and months ahead. Even in Liverpool this will never go away -- everyone is connected somehow. I was one of the few to volunteer to take calls tomorrow during the three minutes silence, for those who don't want to respect it (although I can't imagine who). I think the thing which will stand after this is 'perspective'. Suddenly, all of the little niggling things which seemed really important on Monday just don't seem to matter now. It occurred to me earlier I haven't listened to any music since Tuesday morning. I should go do that.

Music Every year I say the same thing. 'God, it's the Last Night of the Proms already'. Once the Summer is over, there is a timetable to Christmas and this is always at the beginning. Things will be different this year as the usual pomp and circumstance are being replaced by sombre songs, which underlines how people have no idea how to cope. It would have been difficult to proceed with the show with the usual material so this can only be expected.

It was strange watching the ceremony at Buckingham Palace today, British people who knew the words to 'Land of the Free', standing with their hands on their hearts. Americans seem to be able to show patriotism without straying into nationalism -- I think it's rubbing off and this can only be good thing. After all, just like them, we are generally one nation under some flag.

Art We are living in surreal times...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Twelve.

Commuter Life The train this morning was almost silent as people read the collected stories of yesterday in their newspapers of choice. Silent except for the chatter of two girls more interested in their lipsticks and shoes, in denial, unable possibly to grasp the enormity of the events we've witnessed.(1)  Eventually, the hush consumed them as well. This is something which has effected everybody. Something changed yesterday.

Journalism Getting the News During the Crisis Yahoo! picture story of people keeping up-to-date with the story via the written world. Like Ian McEwan of The Guardian, I sat with the screen on all of yesterday watching the events unfold live. In the evening I followed the attack through this thread at Mefi. You have to wonder if this tragedy would have happened at the World Trade Centre if we were not living in a information saturated age.

Blog! This page at Blogger has already been posted everywhere, but it would be difficult to select one story. This is something everyone is talking about.

Music In the midst of everything, PJ Harvey won the Mercury Music Prize.

Film At times like these, escapism seems the only release. I almost watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off tonight, then realised how difficult that film will be to watch now. It features ones of my top ten scenes of all time -- the scene set in the Observation Tower at the World Trade Centre as the gang look down through the window to the ground. [Edited 13/09/2001 - Actually that's incorrect. It's the Sears Tower in Chicago.] I just found that that other films are being re-edited -- the forthcoming Spiderman film for example. Oh God -- I just thought -- the twin towers are in the logo for the film Manhattan... Then I heard that Swordfish has been pulled from British cinemas because it features the destruction of a building. I've a feeling now it won't be the last...

(2)  Sorry, yes, I have to step in again and apologise for how asininely sexist this.  Probably thought I was Alistair Cook.  I was not.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Eleven.

Life There are few words. Strangely not in the mood the write, except to offer my condolences to any American readers, and anyone else effected by this. I've sent a circular email to anyone I know may be a regular reader, but to anyone I don't know -- take care of yourself, on today off all days...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Ten.

Film I re-invigorated my love of cinema this afternoon. I wasn't expecting to - it just happened. It happened during the opening moments of Moulin Rouge. Here is a film which had stripped away all of the usual mess at the beginning of a film to do with quietly setting up character and plot and was actually giving away the end, throwing us directly into the place. We visit the cinema for escapism and here it was.

Another attempt to create a hip-musical, Rouge is better than most, possibly because rather than taking it’s cues from the Hollywood of the 1940s, we have the ye olde musical exemplified by the strangely long-running tv series ‘The Good Old Days’. Yes the characters are simplistic, but no less simplistic than the average Lloyd-Webber – and at least here don’t feel like constructs of the script – even if in fact they are. As with ‘Romeo and Juliet’, director Baz Luhrmann takes his cues from music video to the point of using late twentieth century pop over more traditional music. Don’t listen to anyone – this works stunningly well. In a scene reminiscent of the balcony scene from the aforementioned play about star-crossed lovers, instead of Shakespeare, we find song lyrics, everything from ‘The Beatles’ to Bowie – hell they even make the work of Elton John seem half decent.

But can they sing? Yes and they can dance a little – and act.

Nicole Kidman has always seemed a slightly anti-sceptic actress. Her performances have always been at the edge of passion – slightly distanced from the material. Paradoxically she made ‘Far and Away’ – her work there was funny and touching despite the accent. In ‘Moulin Rouge’, that Kidman is back, with her comic timing and luminous sadness.

Ewan McGregor should now be a broken actor. Students from the early nineties look into his eyes and see a heroin addict. Kids of the late nineties watch him move and see a lightsaber in his hand. It’s a testament to his skills at an actor that he carries this baggage, but we are still expecting even more from him. A spent force? Not yet.

Even Jim Broadbent manages to work wonders with what could be a one not part, being angry and soft in the same moment at times.

So the film -- loud? Yes. Brash? Certainly. Worth seeing? Go with an open heart.

Film No less escapist, yet with even more heart, A Knight's Tale is of all things a Medieval Sports Film. Following roughly the same plot of a hundred baseball films, and as predictable, this is still remarkably entertaining stuff -- more so because it get's by without directly referencing other films (the usual crime). Like Rouge, the contemporary soundtrack does not jar -- although a certain David Bowie track does feel a touch old fashioned in one scene (if such a thing could happen). Apart from the fascinating direction and challenging direction (yes I am saying that with a straight face - for once we have someone who's remembered he's making a film not a video - the general lack of close-ups is invigorating), two things really stand out for me. The scenic effects here are stunning - Medieval London looks the part, and I couldn't help but think of Olivier's 'Henry V' which created a very similar effect so many years ago. And what casting. Heath Ledger is a star in the making, filling his part as though written for him. Mark Addy's surf is again in a role written for him (surely a worthy successor to Roy Kinear in such parts). Paul Bettany also looks set for instant stardom, his Chaucer a potent creation. A potential weak link might have been Shannyn Sossamon, but she fulfils the role of the typical Chaucer ideal of beauty well. Rufus Sewell does his usual. Then in the middle of it all is our Laura Fraser, seemingly set for stardom after 'Small Faces', here again in a supporting role. But she's only 24 - she sparkles as usual here and there's plenty of time. The best Javelin tournament film ever...

Life Still a bit sniffy. I think this will be one of those colds which could go on until Christmas...

Books The Guardian (via Booktrack) lists the most resilient popular fiction in the UK over the past five years. Impressed to see I've only read one of them, Wild Swans by Jung Chang. I've never understood the Terry Pratchett phenomena. Nice chap when I've seen him interviewed, I could never see what so remarkable about the books, overwritten, and a poor man's Douglas Adams, especially the first book which felt like Hitchhiker's in a fantasy setting. Good to see Tolkein in there then. And 'A Brief History of Time' - which seems like one of those books everyone buys but never gets around to reading.

Journalism  Citizen Layne: Want My Story? Help Yourself! There has been some discussion throughout the blogging community about plagarism -- is adding a link on your site without mentioning the source stealing intellectual property or just acknowledging a great find? Ken Layne of the Online Journalism Review encountered an even great example, when the majority of a story he wrote about 'Crikey!' an online journalist, appeared at the Business Week website. It's been a well worn tactic in the national newspapers to work up stories which have originally appeared in locals which are only read by a small number of people. But on the internet there is a level playing field - and as Layne points out: "This is the Internet. Take something from an online journalist and call it your own, and that online journalist will find you."

This Blog In September 2001: Day Nine.

Life I'm coming down with a cold. Hold on while I sneeze....that's better...while I'm away, might I direct everyone to TV Cream? It's an expansive history of 'cult' British television. You'd be amazed how much of an influence Bagpuss and Mr. Benn had on twentysomethings in the UK today... [more]

This Blog In September 2001: Day Eight.

Tv I miss 'Friends'. Or rather the first season of 'Friends'. I miss the 'ugly naked guy'. I miss the deliberately strange Pheobe. I miss the unrelated Chandlerisms. I miss the Monica who was a mature woman living in the city. I miss Joey when he wasn't too stupid. I miss Ross when he was in love with Rachel. I miss the Rachel who was a waitress. I miss the times the characters would just sit around chatting about stuff without an impetuous. I miss the time when even filler episodes were classics. Sitting down to watch an original episode is like greeting an episode of 'Fawlty Towers' - you've seen them so many times, yet you can't help but laugh (even 'The One with the Stoned Guy' makes me titter now, despite Jon Lovitz). Heck, I even miss Marcel - and the fact that this show was kooky enough to have a monkey as a semi-regular character. Over the years as new writers have come, we've moved from character to plot.

Watching the seventh series (still continuing a year behind on Channel 4) is an entirely missable prospect. It's difficult to put your finger on why it isn't as good. Perhaps it's that the details of the characters have been obliterated. Or that any semblance of a guest cast hardly get a look in - or if they do it's because they're stars from other shows. Is it Matthew Perry's now wayward performance? Or the fact we know that Lisa Kudrow is capable of some much more, especially having seen her work in 'The Opposite of Sex'. Or that Joey has become needlessly dumb in the face of looking for easy jokes. Or that Courtney Cox looks unremittingly bored. Or that The Schwimmer seems to be spending more time directing - and is of the opinion that shouting is a good substitute for comic timing. The only suspect to come out of any of this is Jennifer Aniston. I can quote whole lines of the first series:

"Gum would be perfection. Gum - would be perfection. Could've said gum would nice - could've said I'll have a stick. But ... no ... no... no ... for me - gum is perfection. I loath myself...."

Even the second soundtrack is messier and just not as cohesive as the first, 'Hootie' and 'REM' replaced by 'Robbie Williams' and an appalling mix of 'Smelly Cat' (which I also miss - when was the last time we saw Pheobes perform at Central Perk?). Thank God the eighth year will be the last. I'm mad as hell and I can't take it anymore....

(and it seems BBC Manchester feels the same way - next weeks 'I Love 1994' features a segment - anyone taking bets on them talking recent series down?)

Music Currently listening to Poe, whose standard female vocalism is interspersed with Portishead wierdness and tape recordings of her dead father. Worryingly mainstream in places - perhaps trying to tread just the wrong line. Bet she watched Teletubbies and wondered if the world was laughing at her...

Club One of my top five favourite places on Earth (and I don't make that claim lightly) has a web site. The Krazy House was for a long time the only Rock Club in the centre of Liverpool. The first time I visited was on my birthday getting on for five years ago - and there was a Halloween ball (yes - my birthday is the 31st October - and I've heard any jokes you may have). This was pre-Buffy - so the room was filled with girl with red horns and forks and old-style vampires. Oh and a curious looking Darth Vader. I fell for the place - stepping into there from Liverpool City Centre was literally like entering a new world.

Time and behaviour in this club is strangely at right-angles with the rest of reality. One night, one of the last times I went with a friend, my drink addled mind had been in conversation with one of the regulars. From nowhere I asked her if she'd ever had her palm read. She says no - and that she has always wanted to see her future. So I take her hand...

[I should step out of this story for a moment and say I don't know anything about palm reading - nothing could be spookier could it]

...and realising my predicament, and realising I'll have to say something, the improvisational actor in me began to talk about the lines of the hand signifying this and that. I didn't actually say anything she might not have thought and now and then she'd ask me whether 'things would improve' and I just told, generally upbeat, positive things. Her usually sullen goth face for five minutes after was so cheerful I thought I'd ruined her.

Time passes. It's the following week. I'm there again, fighting at the bar for a drink and suddenly a hand is thrust in front of me. This time I'm not drunk and I'm in an episode of the old game 'Scruples' - do I tell the truth? Well no. So I told this second girl (friend of the first) the exact same things - she too goes away happy. Ten minutes later another hand (friend of the second). Then give it twenty and another. And this goes on all night. Each time I tell the same upbeat tale of a possible future - and at no point do they call me on it.

This tells me two things - there are some things girls don't talk to each other about, and that if you're going to do something like this at least have a reason. Believe me when I say that my inability to monopolise the situation I've makes me unremittingly nice, or unbelievably stupid. Or both. *

* What a creep.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Seven.

Life Talking to a commuter buddy today about her siblings, it occurred to me I've never really faced up to being an only child. She was talking so candidly about her problems and all I could say was 'I don't really understand the dynamic' - which is true, no matter how artificial it sounds. When you're an only child you assume that your brothers and sisters would be your best friends - there when you need them, always someone to talk to. But over the years I've realised that actually there can be a lot of pain and heartache involved. You'd end up loving and hating them for the same reasons. It's easy perhaps to say that such and such a friend is like a brother or sister to me, but I've found that no one can be that close - once the family front door is closed there isn't much you can say or do. This essay seems to have grasped most of the main points. I do feel like I have had to make more of an effort in social situations - I can be introverted and a bit of a loner if I need to be (and lately, well...) - and I have met only children who find social interactivity really difficult. But for me it's a default setting - I much prefer the company of others - you can learn more about the world from talking to someone than reading a book at times - which is exactly what happened today when I spoke to that commuter buddy. QED.

Music Leona Naess 'Comatised' feels like an album you've heard a hundred times. We have hints of Beth Orton, Pal Shazar and Bjork. No Alanis histrionics here, though. This album feels like a letter to and describing some nebulous lover: "He fills the room like champagne / into an empty glass / as they slighter to him like snakes / through the grass / his stance is quiet with grace/ before they throw him / into the rat race / and he turns to me to say / I'm a lonely buy / Even with the life, I asked for." This isn't a great album - only one or two tracks ('Lazy Days', 'Northern Star') stand out. But then I'm sitting still as I listen. I've a feeling as I squat behind that plastic table on the train to work tomorrow it's calming influence will make me positive for the day ahead. What is it with that title?

Food Just a quick link to Jill's Gradely Scran - the most addictive food site I've ever visited. This works so well because the receipes are easy to follow yet far from simplistic. Mr. Hyperbole has now left the building...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Six.

Wish list So yes, I've done it. A wishlist. It seems no weblog should be without one - so as you glance to your left you'll see it nesting. Creating the list was strange feeling - as though even more than the weblog we have a straight to the point description of my interests. I'm not sure if this is 'a good thing'. Since every list seems to have a 'star prize' in there is 'The Stanley Kubrick Collection' if only because he looked a bit like my Dad.

Quote "What if you were in the queue and there was no one else there? [spoken by a work colleague]

This Blog In September 2001: Day Five.

People My paradoxical personality is wrapping itself around the Kate Winslet story. I'm in a spin because I hate celebrity gossip - most of it lies or statistics. But here is someone I genuinely like as an actress and a person - and it's hard to see someone go through this kind of thing in the glare of the media. Rather like Minnie Driver, Winslet is an actress first - anything else is a by-product. We have a girl who has appeared in one of the biggest (although not greatest) films of all time. Yet decided not to even try and build on the position (realising a once in a lifetime moment) and made a string of quite personal small films of greater quality and depth which in the stretch of a career she is more likely to be remembered for (something co-star Leo would do well to remember). I mean you've got love the fact that after Titanic one of the only TV shows she 'did' was 'Ready Steady Cook'. Libby Brooks insightful article in 'The Guardian' today uses slightly longer words to make the same point: "Kate Winslet has always stood apart from the celebrity panoply of talents, teases and tragic heroines. A redoubtable actor, she radiates a fearless emotional honesty in person as well as in performance. Intelligent, immoderate and inconsistent, she calls a spade a bloody shovel." *

Book The Cambridge Companion to Shakespeare on Film is a string of essays describing the problems involved in adapting what is essentially a theatrical form to cinema. It's an academic work and so the writing is quite dry at times and because we have essays we have repetition - how many times you can write about Olivier's 'Richard III'. There are three essays of note. 'Videos and its paradoxes' looks at the use of video as a study aid, and how the productions on show can colour the student's view of the play - so Anthony Hopkins characterisation of Othello in the BBC production is wildly different to Lawrence Fishburne's in the recent film - neither is necessarily correct, but the student might not make that connection. 'Filming Shakespeare's history: three films of Richard III' offers the best and most honest review of Pacino's 'Looking for Richard' I've read, treating the film on it's own merits and not as a version of the actual play. Finally, 'Flamboyant realist: Kenneth Branagh' again tries to re-dress the critical mauling his films have been subjected to - there really isn't anything like the four hour 'Hamlet'. The one disappointment is 'Shakespeare's cinematic offshoots' which looks at adaptations which are re-imaginings of the text. It's cursory, anodyne and misses out 'In The Bleak Midwinter' and 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead'. Why?

Games Unlike, seemingly the whole entire rest of the country, my first computer was an Acorn Electron. No 'Mony On The Run' or 'Horace Goes Skiing' for me - my favourites were 'Chuckie Egg' and 'Snapper'. So I've gone positively cock-a-hoop over The Stairway To Hell, the site of an Electron emulator. There isn't anything better than watching my Pentium dissolve into the familiar black screen with Acorn sign. As well as images of every game imaginable, there is the option of plugging a tape deck into your sound card and loading games straight from cassette....not that Sphinx Adventure was ever worth that wait...

* Sigh.  I had planned to keep comments to a minimum, but it's important to note I was not stalking this woman.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Four.

Commuter Life The most striking person I know lives around the corner from me. I know not her name or where she is from. I've heard her speak but once. She is a girl out of time. She's modelled herself on the paintings of Rossetti, her red hair tied up in a bun, her skin a milky white. She wears flowery dresses, blue cardigans and a velvet coat of emerald. She carries a crochet shopping bag. She's breath-taking as she weaves about the modern world, amongst the business suits and tracksuits, seemingly unconcerned by pollution and concrete. I saw her on the train the other day and it seemed incongruous that she would be travelling anywhere. To me she always just seems to be just there - and that's where I hope she'll stay. *

feeling listless classics I watched this Metafilter thread develop in real time. I was amazed to find this page anywhere. The gentleman involved has decided that widescreen films actually censor the picture. Not a serious point, but he goes at it hammer and nails. So I could not post it to Mefi - and found out actually how many people visit the blue screen heaven. When I initially found the page, the counter (now sadly broken) read 41 hits. By the time the Mefiers had been at it - well you can see... I'd keep popping back every so often after the thread was long gone, and it eventually reached over 5000 - before mysteriously returning to zero... **

* Sigh.  I had planned to keep comments to a minimum, but it's important to note I was not stalking this woman.  It was supposed to be a kind of "slice of life" piece.

** Of course I now know that Mr Lettershlocking was partially correct.  Some widescreen films on VHS & DVD did matte out the top and bottom of the image (see the sterling work of YouTuber Outside The Frame).  The flipper DVD of Top Gun literally does this, with the widescreen version just cropping the top and bottom of the image on the full screen side of the disc and still not fulfilling the director's vision (or whatever) as was the ambition elsewhere.

This Blog In September 2001: Day Three.

Time A bit previous with this - but it's September. Already. In the year 2001. I remember as anyone whose left full time education will, what a milestone this month was. Never mind your birthday, as you entered your school or college you were one year older and you felt it. The signs were obvious. Each year you were drifting further backwards in the assembly hall (until, if you went to my school, you were on a balcony, hidden from view). You'd look out across the school yard and see even more people younger than you. Suddenly you found that the subjects you were follow would eventually have some bearing on the rest of your life. At college the work would become progressively harder, and there would be more of it. Then after over a decade and a half - it stopped - and September became just another month. Until this time. This time I realised I'm going to be twenty-seven in two months. I'll officially be old. Or what I thought was an old person when I was eight.

Review! The Brit-com Coupling's second series begins tonight. Unfairly referred to as a rip-off of 'Friends' (mostly by me) the first series went from a shaky start to a must see programme. More likely to take risks than the American show (and at times much funnier), other than the premise of three men & three women talking about sex, the writer Steven Moffat takes the format in another direction. The episode everyone talks about features a mis-understanding regarding the advances or not of a girl who speaks Hebrew. As Mark Lawson writes in The Guardian: "The point about Moffat is that, unusually among television sitcom writers, he works in the genre of farce. Critics have often suggested that farce is impossible to write in a contemporary setting because the plot motor of the form - the need to lie to prevent loss of face or exposure - is implausible in a society which has ever less sense of shame." This was a stumbling block Moffat encountered with the great lost sit-com of the Eighties, 'Joking Apart' - which at one point played out the classic plotline of having three different lovers in different rooms - something Oscar Wilde was a dab hand at. Let's hope this new series gets the airing it deserves... (Update! Just saw the first episode - gives a whole new meaning to 'I'd give an arm and a leg...')

Liverpool life I thought I'd leave you today with something I've always noticed but which is never referred to. One of the great pubs in Liverpool is 'The Pilgrim', close to the Anglican Cathedral. An old style drinking hole, it's only concessions to modern life are adverts for Red Bull all over the walls and a massive new jukebox graced with recent chart hits. Patrons sit in booths at tables covered in mosaics and they cook one of the greatest English breakfasts known to man. The brick walls are broken up by giant mirrors. At some time other other an artist, possibly at the local art college, has been commissioned to draw giant pencil drawing of 'The Beatles' at various moments of their career and these have been glued to the mirrors with clear Fablon. So we have the Lonely Hearts Club Band; John and Yoko; Paul and Linda; and at the centre, the four on 'The Ed Sullivan Show' - only actually, when you take closer look - it's John, Ringo, George and for some unaccountable reason, the Shakepearean actor Derek Jacobi in a Beatles wig. Take a look next time you're in there and wonder if that artist was watching re-runs of 'I Claudius' at the time...

This Blog In September 2001: Day Two

Sculpture The Henry Moore Institute in Leeds is an exhibition and study venue dedicated to three dimensional art objects. For me, it's one of those places I'll always have a connection to, not just because I worked there, not just because this was the place which cemented my interest in art, but also what it represented for some of the time at university. If my first year was messy, the second was even worse - the house I lived in was from hell, full of people I didn't get along with at all (stories to come you can assume). But when I knew I couldn't go home, there was one place I could go which was a place of calm - away from them, away from study, away from the world. Even on the days I wasn't working there I knew I could drop in, see my friends, and feel the world fall away. This was the place where art first made me cry * and where I went to my first private view.

One of the strengths of the gallery is the connection to artists. I've always been more interested in the production of art, rather than the subject itself, so I was always impressed by the fact the institute could get world renowned sculptors to visit to talk about their work. At the end of this month, their new exhibition 'Close Encounters: The Sculptor's Studio in the Age Of The Camera' looks at photographic representations of the artist's studio. Such pictures can be earth shattering - to see what are probably some of the most famous works of art in one space together before they disappeared to the four corners - some of them before ink has dried on the sketches or the varnish has dried on the carvings. If ever there was a show to get me back to Leeds this is it...[via The Henry Moore Institute Newsletter]

* Georgina Starr's Crying is still one of my favourite pieces, a devastatingly naked burst of emotion at a time when such things couldn't simply be posted online.  Starr recently posted on Instagram about how a gallery displaying the piece created an uncanny AI replica.  She says, "The replicant disturbs me, like peering into a broken looking glass."  I've also just noticed she actually quotes from my original blogpost on her website's review page.  

This Blog In September 2001: Day One

Life  With the twenty-fifth anniversary of 9/11 upcoming, I thought I'd repost what was on this blog exactly twenty-five years ago this month, warts and all.  When these were written, I would have been twenty-six, old enough to know better but not old enough to understand why I should know better.  At the time, there was also a "Blog of the Day" feature but I'll remove any which aren't still online to retain the writer's privacy (even if they're on the Wayback Machine).  Some links will also be lightly updated with a more contemporary source if necessary (such as linking to a song on YouTube).

Erm... When I was a student (mid-nineties) I knew two things. The first was that by the year 2000 my life would be complete. The second was that club music in all it's forms was the work of the devil to draw the populace away from real music. And I pretty much kept that opinion for much of the rest of the decade. Then last year something strange happened. I was standing in record shop and the DJ began to play 'GrooveJet' by Spiller featuring Sophie. Here was a record almost designed to talk me around to the Ibiza way of thinking. A dance record with a good lyric and melody of sorts which also had the kind of structure I'd never heard before. I walked to the counter and bought the thing straight away - and listened to it five times as soon as I was home.

My distrust of dance music still exists, much of it seeming too easy for words. There are the exceptions - the crossover music which I now feel myself not only appreciating but going positively radio gaga over. I'm becoming particular impressed by R&B. During my long and delayed train journey home tonight, I was welcome of the company of Mary J Blige and her 1997 album, 'share my world'. I should not like this album.  But here I am, listening to it again whilst I write this. I want to gas on about her vocal range (extraordinary) or the production (as you'd expect, with glimpses of genius) And as I 'groove' along to the track 'round and round' I've come to a startling conclusion, and believe me, this is something of a revelation...there isn't one type of music I don't like....

Actually that may not be true. I'd run a mile from Kenny Rogers, James Galway and in fact most people with beards. And I'll draw the line at boy bands. And Atomic Kitten (mention number three on this weblog - six to go possibly).* But when it comes to everything else, I think I can - if not rave - at least understand. There isn't probably anything better at one o'clock in the morning having had many beers than throwing your weight around S Club 7's 'Reach for the Stars'. The rush of a Slipnot concert will be extreme. And quiet stylings of Vangelis lead you into believing that a calmer world is possible. The only boundary in music should be quality...

Interview!  Nelly Furtado interviewed by Caroline Sullivan of 'The Guardian': "She begins chirpily and stays that way, answering even facetious questions with a desire to provide whatever's required. "So you're like a bird? What kind?" I inquire. "A seagull," she says seriously. "I was really inspired by a great book called Jonathan Livingston Seagull [the drippy new age classic by Richard Bach]." Journalists find it difficult to get a handle on Nelly - she can't be clumped in with Alanis, Christina, J-Lo or Tori because she's all four, with a hint of Natalie - and looks unnervingly like Courtney.

* This is what passed as a running gag in the early days.  There have been a few since then mostly in relation to the Sugababes.

Odeon London Tottenham Court Road


For Toy Story 5.  Cinema Treasures charts the fortunes of this spot, its path to Odeon not too dissimilar to lot of high street screens.  Opening in 1981 as the Classic 1-2-3 Central Cross, it was taken over "by the Cannon Group and it was re-named Cannon on 6th December 1985. It was taken over by MGM Theatres on 6th March 1992. Taken over by the newly formed ABC Cinemas chain on 19th July 1996. Merged with the Odeon Cinemas Group, the cinemas were renamed Odeon on November 10, 2000."  

Screen Two is a typically wedge like auditorium of the kind which happens when a newer cinema is trying to pack in as many screens as possible in the real estate they've bought.  Still warm outside, the air-conditioning was cranked up so high I shivered.  A few talkers led to me moving a couple of times.  The usher was kind enough to give me two cups of water because I clearly looked dehydrated after my adventures in Greenwich.

In the corridor to and from the screens, there are photographs from film premiers in 2014, presumably from Leicester Square, which is a bit strange considering that isn't here.


Photos from other franchise releases did feature, but most of them showed someone who'd since been cancelled or should have been.

Odeon Greenwich


For Moana (the live action remake).  Took the cable car across the Thames and walked half an hour in the scorching hot weather.  When the back of my neck started to burn the only thing I had was a spare t-shirt.  A red one.  With X-Wings on the front.  Avert your eyes.


There's your treat for this blog's twenty-fifth birthday in a few days.  I was just starting to grow out my beard ready for The Odyssey to add some light haptic understanding of the culture in Nolan's epic.  I should probably buy a hat or remember where my towel is.  

This colosseum shaped edifice doesn't look like a native Odeon build and sure enough, as Cinema Treasures explains, it was originally a UCI site, part of The Filmworks sub-chain.  It hasn't changed much comparing their old photo to this close-up I took on the day and Google Street View.  The Pizza Hut is still open.


As you can see this is one of the locations which is still Fanatical About Film because it would be probably quite awkward to replace the sign.  Having missed the midday lieMAX screening, I settled for the next available and once again on this adventure found myself in a completely empty auditorium but for myself.  Due to the incredibly hot weather, the aircon was cranked up inside and since I'd only worn a t-shirt, I froze.  Had to deal with a low end buzzing sound from the speakers throughout which I mentioned to an usher at the start but wasn't dealt with.  The manager had apparently been informed but did nothing/forgot.

Doctor Who The TV Movie (The Target Novelisation)

Books  Probably an odd choice of reading given, hands gesticulating, everything.  But between catching up with the Eighth Doctor audios, spending a hundred odd hours playing Star Wars Jedi Survivor, work and life, I've fallen behind on the books.  This felt like a good way to get back in the habit, what with it being a novelisation of a story I only rewatched a couple of weeks ago thanks to the gorgeous 4K restoration and a book I've most read before, albeit over twenty years ago.

Looking back at my first review from back in 2005, originally written for the Behind The Sofa group blog but archived here, it's noticeable how little my writing style has really changed in the ensuing decades, apart from describing them as Time Lords rather than timelords, something which was drilled into me pretty quickly by friend of the blog Graham Kibble-White.  I like the ending of the review although it fails to notice the reference to the last time Doctor Who went off air in 1989.

Most of my opinions still stand although my understanding of how the Seventh Doctor "dies" is clearer thanks to the film itself and this book.  It's not the gunshots which kill him, they remove the bullets which should lead to a relatively straightforward recovery.  It's the surgeons including Grace, misunderstanding the Doctor's anatomy, that his increased heart rate is due to having two hearts, a fact which is explained away in their heads by a double exposure on the x-ray.  It's the probe which Grace pushes into his body which kills him.  I am an idiot.

As Gary Russell says in the new preface, this TARGET edition allowed him to put back in some of the material which his editors in 1996 suggested be removed because this was supposed to be a bold new era for the franchise and embellish in other ways.  We get to enjoy the details of the Doctor's mission to retrieve the Master's remains (the younger version of me is very pleased).  When Chang Lee opens the Eye of Harmony, we're given descriptions of all of the previous Doctors rather than the glossing over from the previous version.  

Not only that, but he's embellished a bit too with concepts which have only become spin-off continuity more recently: It's clearly President Romana who gives the Doctor his mission to retrieve the Master's remains.  When the Doctor considers Ace's fate, A Charitable Earth is mentioned tying it in to the lockdown era continuity around his former companion.  There's plenty more listed on the TARDIS Wikia page although which says they're deviations from the film but seem more like someone's done a line-by-line comparison between the two books.

Between the TV Movie itself and the various novelisations, which is canonical?  All of them, none of them, who's to say?  People have all kinds of fanilisations of how continuity works in Doctor Who, including Gary himself at various points, that the TV series is one universe, the audios another, the books another.  But I'm a completist.  It's all canonical.  But it's also constantly in flux so in some versions of history the Doctor is half-human on his mother's side and in others, as portrayed in this book for example, he's clearly joking.  

Placement: LOL.

We Need To Talk About Kara Zor-El.

Film  Just briefly.  There are typically two indicators that I'm not really enjoying a movie: either (a) I fall asleep, or (b) my film studies brain cells kick in and start looking for flaws. Supergirl (2026) currently has a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 57%, which, even given what's about to appear below, still seems like a particularly rough score. It's six percent below The Marvels, a score that should arguably be 73%, given that you generally have to automatically add 10% to any RT aggregate if it's an action feature with a female protagonist, as the predominantly male review corps doesn't tend to like that sort of thing. Ballerina is an 85%, Salt is a 71%, and Cleaner is 61% (which is still too low). This makes Supergirl a 67% picture, which seems about right.

As I suggested on the socials, unlike some other similar releases, it's not one from which I left punching the air. I tried, I wanted to, but as a few reviewers have noted, it begins well yet eventually becomes an unsurprising, generic mess of sci-fi tropes of the kind I usually enjoy but somehow fails to resonate. Perhaps it's the deeply average, one-note villain. Perhaps it's the clichéd approach to the outback universe, where everywhere is a shithole planet full of miscreants. Could it be that in creating a story around a pretty much invincible character, it spends much of the runtime finding ingenious ways of physically de-skilling her when, much like Superman, she has enough mental scars to hold her back? Or is it the sense that we're watching a sub-par Guardians of the Galaxy featuring only Star-Lord?

I think the most damaging aspect, and this is where my analytical side takes over, is that after a while, Supergirl stops being the protagonist of her own movie and lacks agency in many of her scenes leading up to that point. The most obvious examples happen in the flashbacks, particularly the key moment when she lands on Earth and meets her cousin. She can't speak "standard" yet, but the whole scene is played from Clark's POV as he shambles about trying to make her feel welcome. Shouldn't we be seeing her perspective on suddenly being on a planet where she doesn't understand the language or what is happening in general? We shouldn't be able to understand what Superman is saying in these scenes; David Corenswet's dialogue should be gibberish.

However, it's the back half of the film when the structure really becomes unstuck. In the comic that inspired the project, Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, much of the story is told from the perspective of a new character, Ruthye Marye Knoll. This is repeated in this loose adaptation, where she fills the role you might find for a Doctor Who companion. On screen, she cuts a very Arya Stark figure, even if she only has one name on her list. Whereas the comic was part of a continuum of Supergirl stories in which stylistic shifts add depth, it's very odd that in Kara's screen debut, they've chosen to distance the audience from her for much of the second half while this other girl's struggles move to the forefront. Supergirl is lying in a cave, waiting for a different coloured sun to rise.

The biggest mistake for me is perhaps in the final shot of the film.  Apparently a reference to the Superman and Lois conversation in Superman (2025), which had the Justice Gang fighting a kaiju in the background, Kara sits opposite Clark and gives him the news that she's remaining on Earth for now, trying to make her home there.  Again, the scene is mostly played from her cousin's perspective and the final beat is Clark running off screen to deal with Krypto and it's he who has the final line.  It's admittedly very funny, because everything Krypto does is funny, but it's extremely odd that we don't then have a close-up of Kara relaxing into her new home, happy that she's completed her journey.  But it feels redolent of a film in which the title character's feelings aren't always at the forefront.

Doctor in Discomfort.


TV  You will have heard the news about Doctor Who going out to tender for  a new production company, with RTD2 and Bad Wolf walking away after cancelling Schrödinger's Christmas Special. The BBC says they "have collectively decided not to go ahead with the previously announced Doctor Who Christmas episode," whereas Russell says via his Insta:


There's no point trying to litigate whether anyone was lying about there being a Christmas Special. With no new Doctor announced or news of a special and a series, it was becoming pretty clear that it was a placeholder in the schedules, just in case, easily filled with another hour of Strictly.

But to the point: I'm pretty positive about the whole thing. The BBC hasn't said they're shutting up shop: no more Doctor Who for now, see you in a couple of decades. They're asking for presentations from other production companies, which will all have their own ideas on a new direction for the show, and it'll be recommissioned like any other series. Perhaps the choice of showrunner and actor will be included in those pitches, alongside the kinds of stories they'll want to tell.

Here are some of the things I hope those pitches will include, and yes, this is a rare occasion when this blog's usual format goes out of the window and I allow bullet headings to darken its door:

  • A soft reboot.  Don't ignore what's been seen until now, but don't refer to it either. Make this a proper jumping-on point for new young viewers and those who may not have watched the show recently.
  • No major story arcs.  Make it largely standalone again. If there's a throughline, it could be as simple as the developing friendship between the companion and the Time Lord. Make things lower stakes again—no global or intergalactic catastrophe every other hour.
  • Longer seasons. Facilitated by a return to the old format of twenty-five-minute episodes and cliffhangers. This will help with the budget because it'll help to amortise costs across multiple episodes.
  • None of the previous showrunners. We've had more Prime Ministers in the past twenty-odd years than Doctor Who showrunners, and all of them burned out eventually—some of them before they'd even had an episode produced. Give it to someone younger and perhaps not a white male. Someone with a different perspective. Can someone check if Abi Morgan is still interested?
  • Spin-off writers. One of the best decisions RTD1 made right at the beginning was to hire writers who worked on Doctor Who in other media, all of whom, in fact, had helped launch the Eighth Doctor at Big Finish. Do something similar again, with the newer crop who might not have written for TV before but understand how Doctor Who flows.
  • A consistent timeslot. Make it the show which kickstarts Saturday evening, and with a shorter individual runtime, it's less likely to interfere with whatever else might be on.
  • No iPlayer premieres. That was just asking for trouble.
  • Romola Garai as the Doctor. There's still time.

Plus let us not forget, Doctor Who is currently in production for television: 52 x 11-minute episodes over two series for CBeebies, which happened through a similar tendering process to the main show. We don't know what that will look like. Who will voice the Doctor? Their companion? Who's writing the thing? Will it have returning monsters? How much story can you actually tell in ten minutes plus credits? Is it canon?

Rendition (Rutans vs Sontarans)

Audio  Charming. One of the results of listening to a concentrated number of Eighth Doctor stories in the past few weeks, with so many set during the Time War, is forgetting the sheer pleasure of hearing a version of the Time Lord and his companions when there are minimal psychological stakes and the characters are drawn along much simpler lines: a Doctor who shambles about until he doesn't, a naïve but brave Scot, and a haughty but loyal mathematician. Here, they find themselves on a medical ship where a group of Rutan war-wounded are in danger of being obliterated by the Sontaran battlefleet. But, overseen by a nurse who is part Ratched, part Mary Poppins, they find solace in war poetry influenced by Wilfred Owen. Into that tumbles the Eighth Doctor to help Zoe get the engines repaired and distract a Sontaran spy. For most of it, he's in a Tiggerish mode, but he also has the Web of Time on his mind and doesn't want to be discovered in a way which suggests he'll be appearing on a few more covers in this series yet.

Placement:  This and the next two inlays in the series have the Eighth Doctor in his TV Movie costume with the fourth also featuring Charley and C'rizz.  So I'll put this after The Battle of Giant's Causeway in what seems like is going to be a mini-era.  For now.

Ahead of Time (Short Trips Volume 13: Tales from the Vortex)

Audio  
At the centre of the story is a killer idea. What if there were a substance the destruction of which sends a person one year into the past, and the way to fix any changes made is to find exactly the same ounce of the metal and destroy it again in the past? What if that happens over and over and over again? As Paul Booth's story proposes, it would probably end up in the breakdown of a society. But what if someone does all of that on purpose? Foreshadowing the destruction witnessed by the Eighth Doctor during the Time War, and echoing the fate of Bliss's planet in Volume 12, Ahead of Time is propulsively told, with some excellent material for Charley—clearly enjoyed by India Fisher—especially one scene which is as good as anything in the mainline audios. It's especially moving when it speaks to memory and trying to recapture what's been lost.

Placement: Though I was somewhat distracted by how much knowledge Charley has about the Time Lords and trying to square that in the timeline, going back and looking at Neverland, she's already pretty knowledgeable of their existence right at the start. The Doctor's already made her very aware of who they are, or she's been reading the TARDIS Databank during some idle moments.  So between Minuet in Hell and Invaders From Mars?

Salvage (Short Trips Volume 12)

Audio
  Bliss!  Wiped from existence in the Time War boxsets, an ignominious fate brought about due to Rakhee Thakrar's work schedule prevented her from appearing in the boxset which would ultimately be called Cass, it's an absolute pleasure to hear from her again, albeit in a Short Trip set between previous stories.  Unlike some Short Trips too, this feels like a vital part of her story and goes to the heart of who Bliss is and her origins, another of the Eighth Doctor orphans in time, either due to paradox or as in this case because her entire timeline was destroyed behind her.  Where does all of that lost matter go?  The people?  The places?  The things?  Salvage goes some way to at least explaining what happens to some of it, although it's a story best experienced without much foreknowledge so you won't hear any more of the story from me.  Max Curtis's text captures the era and characters perfectly and it's read extremely well by Adèle Anderson, who digs deep into the heartache of what unfolds.

Placement: Salvage explores the psychological weight of timelines that have been rewritten and people that have been "lost" to the war. This serves as a perfect thematic prologue to Volume 3, which opens with State of Bliss—an episode specifically dedicated to exploring the multiple, shifting timelines of Bliss's existence created by the conflict.

It's a Wonderful War (Christmas: It's a Wonderful War and Other Stories)

Audio
  Happy Christmas. Again. One of the results of your blogger catching up on Eighth Doctor stories in a bunch is the number based on special occasions, particularly Christmas. The effect has been much like bingeing through the revival television series with a festive special every two to thirteen episodes (depending on increased production costs at the time and if there was a gap year). This was clearly an extra-special challenge: set a Christmas story during the Time War. Taking inspiration from Frank Capra's magnum opus, Jonathan S Powell's script sees mining foreman Galen Smith dreaming of leaving the planet and making for the stars. But like George Bailey, events continually keep him from leaving, and he even has a guardian angel—but probably not the one you're expecting.

Stunning, and I use the word carefully. The Time War at Big Finish has become a multi-stranded affair with dozens of characters and ongoing storylines, almost its own franchise, so entering a one-off story set within it isn't without some trepidation. Unlike some stories, however, it keeps the focus on an ordinary man in extraordinary times. He serves as our viewpoint character as elements of the wider mythology are delivered to us. I do tend to enjoy war stories that show the effects such conflicts have on the victims rather than generals and politicians vying for power. Although the Eighth Doctor's intervention is rather more complicated than Clarence's in the original text, it still keeps George's—sorry, Galen's—sacrifices in focus. There's also a brilliant twist that causes you to rethink everything you've heard and makes you want to listen again.

Placement:  Feels early.  Perhaps set before the Eighth Doctor's own Time War stories?

Part Three (Dark Gallifrey: Master!)

Audio   Baffled.   In the olden days and actually still in recent days, this would have been released as boxed set so I would have listened to the first two instalments before discovering what the Doctor's involvement is, as was the case with something like Hooklight.  But without an infinite budget, I decided to just buy the episode with Paul McGann on the cover and although this has a "previously on", it's more of a refresher for listeners who're already wearing the t-shirt.  I got the gist though and this has the Bruce Master at his dastardliest, which is the notion of the Dark Gallifrey series, to show some of the greatest villains at their most playful (similar to the Omega/Davros/Master series in 2003).  The Eighth Doctor first appears speaking backward via radio link before revealing the plot to the protagonists of the story then having a sword fight with the Master.  It's quite a cameo.  Few machinas have deus-exed with quite this aplomb.

Placement:  He's in his leathers so perhaps just before Time Lord Victorious just after discovering The Truth About Peladon?

The Force of Death (BBC Audio Exclusive).

Audio  The last of the four BBC Audio Eighth Doctor stories written by Andrew Lane (so far) does not provide the showdown between the Time Lord and the journalist the finale of the last adventure promised, which probably for the best because I don't know what that would look like.  Instead the Doctor is genuinely pleased to see MacFarlane as the two of them investigate the prototypical elements of an alien encounter: mutilated cattle, zombies and a giant mythic sea creature.  But the enemy isn't Zygons or Homo Aqua, it's something even more dangerous.  Dan Starkey's version of the Eighth Doctor has become more Beatles with every reading and now its reached full McCartney, which is honestly perfectly fine, the scouseness of McGann's own interpretations has oscillated subtly over the years anyway.  For the rest of it he's called upon to offer a Fouracresathon of Irish accents which just goes to show how talented he is.

Placement:  What's the perspective the Doctor suggests has caused him to forgive or at least understand what MacFarlane did in the previous story and the suggestion he's going to have to choose a side?  I think that put this squarely in the close to Night of the Doctor territory, just after The Silent Priest.

The Teeth of Ice (BBC Audio Exclusive).

Audio  The third in the annual Andrew Lane-scripted Eighth Doctor stories for BBC Audio sees the regular viewpoint character, the indomitable reporter James MacFarlane, visiting a remote base at the South Pole to interview an explorer, the intimidatingly named Pentius Rochdale. Predictably, all hell breaks loose, with bodies starting to pile up and wild animals as the potential aggressors. So far, so John Carpenter's The Thing. Fortunately for the denizens of this base, the chief of medicine is the Eighth Doctor, and he's typically suspicious of the gap between what seems to be happening and the reality. Produced again by Big Finish veterans Gardner, Darlington, and Ainsworth, the Eighth Doctor—as you'd expect to hear in those rival audios—is present and correct, and well realised by Dan Starkey in his voiceover. At the length of a CD, it gallops along like the team of huskies in a BBC Four slow TV special (which is paradoxically very fast) right through to a pretty dark ending with echoes of Storm Warning and a wedge driven between the Doctor and MacFarlane. The fourth and (so far) final instalment in the series, The Force of Death, feels very ominous indeed.

Placement: The cover has the same photo of Paul McGann as the second, in a smaller circle, but it still feels like there's been a gap between the two. So, let's place this just after the Titan Comics, when his sense of humour is still intact.

Sunset (Planet Krynoid: Nightfall)

Audio  If you'll excuse the blasphemy, Jesus, this is grim. Nick Briggs pops in at the start of each episode to repeat the content warning from the website, "This release contains adult material and may not be suitable for younger listeners"—which you would think wouldn't be required for something on audio where you can't actually see anything, but parts of this are absolutely horrible and would obviously give children nightmares. If the Hinchcliffe era worried Whitehouse, this would have put her in Cromer—sorry, a coma. At one point, I had to stop the tape and walk away for a bit. Congratulations, folks; this is horror Who at its most heinous.

The first episode, Jonathan Morris's Sunlight follows a similar path to parts of the Alien franchise, which it might well do given that they're both about eggs of sorts. One of the Krynoid seed pods is found during the maintenance of the satellites that keep the lamps on at the otherwise dark and cold colony planet of Sunlight. The local representative of this story's equivalent of Weyland-Yutani wants to keep the thing intact in case there's anything they can take advantage of, even though the Governor of the colony says (rightly!) it should be destroyed immediately, with Reece Shearsmith giving this otherwise cowardly individual his most officious voice acting.

Structured like a disaster film, we're introduced to citizens who are affected at all levels. Which means that when the Eighth Doctor arrives in the second instalment, Sunset by Jonathan S Powell, via unconventional means, it's into an already established group of characters. Although he absolutely fulfils the obligations that might usually be expected of him during a colony-under-siege story—explaining who the monsters are, suggesting how the people in charge have fucked things up, and outlining what could potentially be done to save the day—the various families at the heart of the story remain central. Although for most of them, things still don't end well.

During VHS clipshow The Tom Baker Years, the actor behind the teeth and curls infamously misnames The Seeds of Doom as Invasion of the Krynoids or The Krynoid Invasion, which always conjured in my mind seed pods bombarding a planet, with the sentient vegetable biomass overwhelming the population. That is exactly what the final episode, the fittingly titled Darkness by Chris Chapman, gives us, with scenes straight out of John Wyndham. It's during one particular scene here that I needed to take a break. There are Threads levels of hopelessness on display—or rather, on speaker—and although it does end on the potential for hope, a sequel boxset is incoming. Like I said, Jeeeesus.

Placement:  The Eighth Doctor was apparently travelling with Liv when his end of the story kicked off. Given that he's wearing his leathers on the cover, and assuming that Helen isn't chilling somewhere, this intriguingly puts it between Dark Eyes and Doom Coalition. They both appear in the next Planet of the Krynoids boxset, so I'll also see what we learn there and move it if necessary.