Time to break out the Boney M!

The Independent: Hallelujah! Competition for yule No 1
I know that all of this is a corporate endeavor and much of money will be going to the same record company, but I could certainly get behind a campaign that sees the Jeff Buckley version of this at number one, ahead of The X-Factor, if only to rest control of what was once a great British institution from the Saturday night advertising machine. I've just bought a copy from Amazon's new Mp3 shop which was a surprisingly painless experience.

cauliflower gratin
Made using what looks like the Star Trek equivalent of vegetables. Purple? Resulting recipe looks like blueberry cheesecake.

The Guardian: Twittersphere in shock as Tony Benn reveals he's never even heard of Twitter...
I watched him talking to many of the people I follow all evening. I put the errors down to a lack of proficiency with a keyboard, but on reflection it didn't sound like him. But then, how many of us actually do online?

Archives.org: Congress Establishes Thanksgiving
A bit late, I know, but fascinating nonetheless (save it for next year). For two years, two different dates were used for the celebrations at different ends of the US.

Shelf Abuse - Or How To Organise Your DVDs
Another excellent post from the Empire blog. I have everything I've recorded from television in chronological order based on when they're set -- which means that they're in rough genre order -- and everything else is fairly random. I try to keep some directors together and film series but other than that, it's Dawn of the Dead next to Empire Records next to Sense and Sensibility. Works for me.

Meanwhile, the captcha for this post in blogger is:



Which, I think is the first time I've seen a proper word. Time to break out the Boney M!

Was it all Bill Shakespeare's fault?

I would like to request any communications between any employees of the BBC and any employees of the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) during the period from 28 September 2006 to 11 September 2007.

This Freedom of Information request looks somewhat random until you look at the detail and find that what the person is really interested in is communications with the RSC from Russell T Davies, Phil Collinson, Julie Gardner, Jane Tranter and Peter Fincham, and that the subject is "David Tennant going off to act at the RSC".

The enquirer doesn't really give much in the way of comment, but when it was announced that David would be playing Hamlet, it was misreported at the time that Doctor Who would be rested because of it, when in reality the show was taking a break anyway for production (and some say budgetary) reasons and Tennant was decided to take the part in the gap.

Or in other words, "Why isn't there a full series of Doctor Who in 2009, and was it all Bill Shakespeare's fault? I want answers."

Here is the response: "We have checked the records of the contracts team and the individuals you name, with the exception of Russell T Davies, who is not a BBC employee. However, our search would have retrieved any information held by the BBC which included communication to or from Russell T Davies. No communication was found that involved Peter Fincham, Jane Tranter, Phil Collinson or Russell T Davies. "

My italics. That's presumably because he's a freelancer like the other writers and that explains how that works, at least to me.

You can read the emails in this .pdf file.

There isn't an awful lot there, other than two people touching base over whether David will be able to attend the RSC's press launch last year, and much of the conversation took place over the phone, which is probably not the loaded gun person who made the information original information request was looking for. But you definitely get the feeling that everything went mental and dates were moved up because the Daily Mail got the story out before anybody really wanted them to.

Still, though they're not particular interesting right now, these four emails are precisely the kind of thing some future Andrew Pixley (Doctor Who historical researcher) might me interested in reading, especially with the fear that with much of this correspondence happening via ephemeral email, that archives such as this one recently released by the BBC won't be available for scrutiny.

I'm not so sure about the square trees



Liverpool Life I was passing by Concourse House this afternoon and noticed that it wasn't quite as tall as it used to be. I've spoken before about the Lime Street Gateway redevelopment in relation to a bookshop moving out, and those shops have been demolished and now the other major section, this office block, where La Machine slept one night, is slowly being removed one piece of masonry at a time.

I'm usually quite sentimental about any building that that's demolished, especially if its something I've had to pass-by nearly every day on my way to somewhere, but I've none of those feelings here. There was once a cafe at the foot of the building and I do wonder what happened to that -- if they relocated -- I remember there being protests at its closure -- but other than that I couldn't care less, I'm glad that it's going. I'm already thinking about it in the past tense.

It was embarrassing way to introduce Liverpool to visitors, especially those who'd been led to believe that we had such a great architectural heritage. We have some great modernist architecture in Liverpool, including the Sydney Jones Library at the university but seriously, this was not one of those and deserves to be going (no matter what these people say). I recently learned that the building was never full, and I'm not surprised. If you were trying to attract clients, would you want their first impression to be this clash of concrete and glass and what looks like wood beading?

I only went inside once; between school and university in the early 90s I was casting about for work and signed up with the Manpower Services who had an outlet on the first or second floor (and giant sign across the windows which blanked out the sun for the people working inside). It was my first taste of what an open plan office looked like and it scared me, so much so that I'm sure I might even have vowed never to return to somewhere so synthetic and anti-human again. If only I'd known.

Liverpool City Council's website has an artist's impression of what to expect when the development is complete. The idea is to give the station, a marvelous piece of architecture dating from the 1830s, room to breath for the first time in decades. I'm particularly pleased to see that the plan for a new circular residential tower in place of Concourse House has been dropped, though I'm not so sure about the square trees, but the new approach, a piazza and steps leading up to front door will be incredibly striking.

wouldn't shame a later time-slot

Elsewhere A review of this week's excellent Sarah Jane adventure. On reflection its quite a sober survey of what's meant to be a piece of kids television, looking at the more philosophical elements and as usual over-analysing everything, but it is was genuinely depthful piece of work which wouldn't shame a later time-slot.

more like the tutting noise Death makes

Life There goes another one. I was downloading some podcasts this afternoon and the monitor I had on loan went dark and began to make a spooky clicking noise, not quite tick of a clock, more like the tutting noise Death makes when he’s missed the mark and hit some electrical equipment instead. I unplugged the screen, plugged it back in, turned it off and left it for a while returned and still nothing but the tiny mocking tut, tut, tut.

I’ve already been looking at new monitors, something I could tragically call my own. Knowing almost nothing about peripherals (or, I fear, how to spell that) I’ve gawked at Amazon, glance around Currys and flicked through the pages of the Argos catalogue. Tonight I ended up walking the aisles of Comet trying to look serious, like I knew what I was looking for when really all I cared about was whether I could screw an S-VGA cable in the back.

I’m now in the possession of a LG Flatron W2234S 22” LCD widescreen monitor.

I suspect when my Dad sees it he’ll tell me that I’m sitting far too close, but I don’t think these things can make you go blind these days. It’s 1600 by 900 (ish), so literally widescreen and suddenly everything on screen is bigger and I can’t quite get used to all of the extra room and the ability to see two different applications clearly next to one another at the same time. It’s slightly bigger than our lounge television and whereas I used to have to squint at the other beast, everything I’m typing here is crystal clear.

The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith.



TV The Temptation of Sarah Jane Smith is one of those problematic stories the modern nu-Who franchise is throwing in, now and then, in which one of the main characters breaks the unspoken rule about heroism and gives in to the lure of their position for selfish ends. Torchwood does this kind of thing all of the time in attempt to make it look dangerous, such as resurrecting Owen or sending a small child literally away with the fairies. In this case it’s even more awkward because as Frank has already pointed out, the choice that Sarah-Jane makes is the same as Rose in Father’s Day – saving a parent or in this case both of them – and in the process bringing about an armageddon more horrific than even the grimmest and grimiest of monsters wouldn’t contemplate.

It’s a parable, an attempt at teaching kids that no matter the attraction, just because you can do something, doesn’t necessarily mean that you should and especially if, like Sarah-Jane, who has clearly forgotten the lesson the Doctor taught her in Pyramids of Mars, you really should know better. Years from now an academic fan looking to pad out one of those books will probably attempt to apply a thematic framework to this, that it’s about music piracy, it’s about drugs, it’s about teen pregnancy, it’s about oil in Iraq, and you shouldn’t give in to peer pressure. What they’ll probably overlook is that we’re all human, and that actually it’s the certain knowledge that what we’re doing is wrong that makes us do it, a thrill to breaking the rules. Just once.

That’s what probably stops us from turning against Sarah-Jane. Unlike the Rose of series one, she’s well versed in time travel and its effects and she knows that even as she’s chatting to her parents Blinovitch is rolling in his floating zero gravity grave. But like Rose, she’s human and Liz Sladen’s amazing performance communicates why she can’t stand idly by and watch whilst her own flesh and blood drives off to certain doom if she’s in a position to do something about and to hell with the consequences. Far from weakening the character, it strengthens her because we’re now seeing that the rest of the time, whilst she’s charging around essentially pretending to be the Doctor with her sonic lipstick, it’s all bluff. A side effect of that is that it makes the Doctor an even more idealistic figure because we understand the anguish he must be going through in not plunging back into the time war to save the rest of the time lords.

The fact that we’re able to discuss such weighty issues is a mark of the strength of what was probably the best written episode of the season, just as Whatever Happened To Sarah-Jane? was the best of the last. It might even be better than that, because it gave all of the team something to do, a moment of heroism. I agree that the moment in which Sarah-Jane’s mum realised that she had to die in order for the future seemed like the kind of fudge which left a plot point in the eyes of the actor and their ability to display some unlikely thought processes, but I’d argue that what Gareth Robert’s script was in fact trying to articulate that we’re watching a kind of predestination time loop, that within Sarah-Jane’s memory we can see that time dropped out of kilter already and that we’re just watching it fix itself, part of the suture being the inspiration put in Barbara’s head of what she had to do.

I discussed similar quasi-mystical interventions when writing about The Zygon Who Fell To Earth the other week and like ‘timey-whimey’ and I know that they’re a useful cop-out for what might simply be unclear story beats that even the best writer couldn’t make convincing, but despite my usual protestations that it’s all a fairy tale and that children are very good at filling in the gaps, it would be nice now and then to consider that not everything is quite so superficial, even if its not being enunciated. Clyde and Rani, for example, displayed a mature and philosophical attitude to their situation, even in the face of their own parents all but being dead to them and the world they know having gone, perhaps assuming that everything would write itself, Roberts is clearly trying to show that nothing lasts forever.

Even though perhaps more could have been said as to how the future got into that state (alien invasion? global thermonuclear war? dead Doctor much earlier than Turn Left had it?), those scenes were particularly well acted and directed against the parched landscape (quarry) with Daniel and Anjli diving right into the more challenging than usual material and Mina Anwar’s stunted cognition making the characterisation of Gita elsewhere seem all the more misjudged. But there was little to criticise anywhere here: Rosanna Lavelle's Babs though initially straightforward displayed inner depth and in place the years seemed to drop away from Elizabeth and we caught a glimpse of the girl who danced through time with Tom.

Director Graham Harper brought an epic sheen to the whole story; despite having a smaller budget than he’s been used to lately, across both episodes there was return to the cinematic approach of last year, and whilst the 1950s scenes recalled a more typical BBC costume drama, the sight of The Trickster, especially in that shot where he appeared to the kids against monochrome future reminded me not only of the opening of Genesis of the Daleks, but also appropriately Ingmar Bergman’s iconic manifestation of Death in The Seventh Seal.

That kind of sophistication transferred to the jokes. I’ve had issues this series with the reliance on Clyde to inject humour into stories, striding through scenes and tossing out one-liners like Chandler Bing on Ritalin and more often than not it has detracted from the danger. At the risk of over analyzing (what now? Have you read the previous six paragraphs?), the lines about “ethnic in the 1950s” and “fashion in the Punjab” were hilarious and made the treatment of Martha through history during season three look positively heavy handed. But it’s also the willingness to take the piss out of series standards such as the police box, complete with a full on blast of the Doctor’s theme. I know similar jokes have been done before in the likes of Logopolis, but having complained that this second season has skewed in general to a lower age group than the first, it’s just gratifying as to be able to watch and laugh without having to continually make mental allowances for the demographic reach.

Is the Trickster gone forever? For all his gothic bluster, assuming that this was a time loop he’s not the cleverest of interdimensional beings for not noticing. But I think that Gareth is writing a trilogy here -- the character didn't seem to die rather temporarily lose his grip on this dimension -- and that he’ll be back for the next series and as is the way of these things I wouldn’t discount Sarah-Jane decides to taking the battle to his domain (budget permitting). There’s no denying he’s a great character and spooky even if his design now and then he does indeed look like something John Barrowman might put on display. Given the time trivial connection, I wouldn’t be too surprised if Steven Moffat graduates him to the main show properly so that we can see how effective his against someone who really understands his vocation. Either way, if The Sarah Jane Adventures has a legacy, it'ill be these stories, and it’s telling that this wing of the franchise is at its best when the focus is on the title character instead of one of the kids.

I missed Kim and the cougar.

TV Finally finished watching season six of 24 this afternoon. It was a rubbish as I'd heard and seemed to amount to many hours of people not listening to Jack and then apologising for not listening to Jack. Then a bomb goes off before not listening to him some more.

He spends most of it locked in a cell, torturing a relative, crying, strangling people, shouting or shooting as many people as possible. By the end I couldn't tell if he was supposed to be under arrest or why, and you'd think after twenty-four episodes of this they could have come up with a better ending than Jack looking dejectedly out to sea.

In other words, I missed Kim and the cougar.

I did! I am!

I had my night planned, I really did. And then my web connection seemed to be downloading without a reason. Last time this happened it was because of some malware malarky and for an hour and half I scratched my head, did file searches, virus checks, backed up files in preparation for another reinstall of windows. It wasn't a virus, it wasn't malware. It was the BBC iPlayer or more specifically its download manager Kontike still working and fetching even when the BBC software is closed. Never mind Sachsgate, who do I complain to about this?

The Popdose 100: Our Favorite Singles of the Last 50 Years
Great songs all though it's fairly chauvinistic, with no room for Alanis, Carole or Joan B. Joan A and Aretha are there but I suspect my own list would be almost the opposite and include much music they've never heard of.

Cafepress launches in the UK
I'm very tempted to merchandise the blog. How would you feel about walking around in a t-shirt with 'feeling listless' printed across the front in the Verdana font?

The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade
I know I'm linking to Kat's blog again, but its been one of my favourite reads lately and it's still my party. Here, she makes me entirely envious as she holds the rope for one of the balloons.

Doctor Who book cliches
If tonight's episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures proved anything, it's that if you're a fan of a franchise you'll see the same ideas and plots float around time and again. It's particularly true of spin-off media with the same beats even re-occuring in novels and audio plays published in the same month making you wonder if the authors consulted with the editor, let alone each other.

Presto Pizzazz Pizza Oven
Rotates your frozen pizza under a grill so that it cooks evenly all the way round. You'll never have to eat healthily again.

Red Button Britten, Carols for Breakfast and Bakewell's Belief among the Christmas highlights on Radio 3
No round the clock blast of a particular composer this year, but the Milton and Puccini seasons should well make up for it. As you know, there are sections of Paradise Lost I like very much indeed. I wonder how that film version is coming along.

Dave Gorman's having difficulty with his postman
Ours has been very good lately though he did get a bit shirty the other day when he had to deliver yet more Amazon parcels. "You're popular" he said.

'This competition'
Five Centres was at The X Factor the other night. Of course she mimed. Have you heard this? What happened to this voice?

If you laugh at any one of these Christmas cards, you are officially a geek
I did! I am!

BNP vs. anti-BNP in Liverpool
Amazing on the spot photos of the ruckus in the city centre on Saturday. I was working, so missed all of this, but it looks as though the BNP got more than they bargained for.

available on cd

Elsewhere The present series of Doctor Who on BBC Radio 7 is eight episodes long, but some reason only the first six have been broadcast. I review the seventh which is available on cd.

Sisters of the Flame.

Audio From the alternate reality where I’m writing this review, where the planet isn’t fucked and neither are the stock markets and I’m married to Emily Maitlis, BBC Radio 7 has decided to do the logical thing and broadcast the finale to this season of adventures. Quite why the radio station in your world decided to knock off this story and broadcast The Chimes of Midnight for the umpteenth time only they know. True it's nearly Christmas and that’s a very nearly Christmassy story, but I’m sure kids who might be following this series for the first time are more likely to be a bit confused as to why the bolshy northern lass has been replaced by a haughty southerner in the space of a week or a week in space.

Before taking this random quest, I did check what you know of as the internet and found out something to do with a cliffhanger and adult content which wouldn’t have fitted the timeslot, though there’s nothing in the first half of this story, Sisters of the Flame which measures as much more grotesque than anything else in the series, certainly in comparison to The Skull of Sobeck which was just yucky. With its chase through the stars and giant talking millipede this play is relatively kid friendly, and no more shocking than the charred remains of Luke’s relatives in Star Wars, the gold standard of what can be sneaked through for Universal consumption.

Perhaps it's also because unlike the rest of the series with has been closer in style to the television series, Sisters of the Flame is quintessential Big Finish Doctor Who, with the Tardis blown of course by a tussle with the timelords, the Doctor and Lucie being separated by the end of the title music with much of that incident recounted in flashback and memory. Continuity fiends like me will note that the appearance of Gallifrey, even with the relatively new invention Straxus, puts the story firmly in the time frame of that spin-off series before the fall of the citadel suggested the oncoming war. It’s also a direct sequel to The Brain of Morbius so to an extent the BBC’s decision seems somewhat reasonable, though surely none of it breaks that charter directive about not broadcasting something where the norms have to buy spin-off material themselves to understand it.

Most of the adventure focuses on Lucie as she’s locked up on-board a strange ship having stowed-way and finds herself hopelessly wondering if her timelord buddy is lost forever, having seen him snatched away as they tumbled out of the Tardis. This does allow for a lovely moment where the Blackpool girl she makes much the same realisation as all of his companions, that though she might complain about the danger, she’s having the time of her life. It’s beautifully played by Sheridan and not for the first time offers the impression that this pairing have been having far more adventures than those which the BBC have decided to broadcast (or not). If we didn’t know that she’d be matching up with the Doctor again in time for season three, this could have been a good starting point for some radio inspired by the lost Sam-arc from the novels.

From here, the ever dependable writer Nick Briggs offers a surprisingly linear story as Lucie is ‘rescued’ by a benefactor who might not be all she seems and then rescued by Detective Rosto, the aforementioned millipede investigating the Doctor’s disappearance, sardonically essayed by one Alexander Siddig, who along with Colm Meaney is one of the few actors who still seems to be working in places other than theatre after Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (when was the last time you saw Avery Brooks in anything?). The scenes between Siddig and Sheriden are very clever as Lucie has to come to terms with the fact that this giant arthropod is one of the good guys and even admits to be somewhat racist in her like totally freaked out first meeting with him. It’s a shorthand Galaxy Four which also reminded me of Mark Michalowski’s recent Tenth Doctor novel Shining Darkness where Donna tarred all robots with the same brush, so to speak.

All of this stuff’s so engaging, you hardly notice the Doctor’s only in about three scenes, but McGann certainly enjoys his scraps as gets to pretend to run around the console pressing buttons and sparring with the Sisterhood of Karn, headed my Katarina ‘varied’ Olsson, who I discovered recently after using a search engine can sing mezzo-Soprano, play the clarinet and piano and speaks Swedish, French and German as well as act, which makes her more talented than most people alive so it’s no wonder she gets so much work. Let’s be honest, this is really a sisterhood in the Alicia’s Attic sense of the word – we only hear from two of them, with Olsson joined by Nicola Weeks as Lucie’s initial abductor Haspira (who’s just one vowel away from sounding like a Paul Magrs creation). I particularly appreciated the back reference to Tom and Paul's underscoring of the subtle differences between the two of them.

But there’s enough menace in their dysfunctional unit to suggest that our heroes are in a bit of a pickle as the first proper cliffhanger of the season descends. It’s a smart piece of writing from Briggsy; he knows that the title of the next play will already have been published on Big Finish's website and every other Doctor Who news site online soon afterwards, so there’s no point in making the re-emergence of Morbius the shock horror moment. Instead, he falls on a tried and tested formula used at least once during the original story, not requiring too much build up and epic enough in its implications for an Androzani-style ‘get out of that’, though perhaps to reach those heights they’d truly have to be at the mercy of this ya-ya sisterhood of the traveling particle accelerator.

Next week: Brainz! Brianz!

Or should that be Godsend?

Empire: Jobs For The Girls
Thoughtful piece about the treatment of women in cinema and how the old stereotypes are still around and in fact the quality of writing for women has decreased.

PopJustice: 20 things you need to know about the new Lily Allen album
I can't wait to choose track 08 on the jukebox next time I'm at the pub.

'Blake's 7: The Early Years; Eye of the Machine/Point of No Return'
I wouldn't ordinarily point something like this out, but it's a good cast -- Colin Salmon plays Avon with Keeley Hawes and Geoffrey Palmer in supporting roles, and the music's from Alistair Lock who scored the early audios with the Eighth Doctor. [via]

The Movie Game with Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode
A quiz for Christmas Day. Hopefully the celebrities will include David Morrissey and Jason Isaacs.

I Hate You Library Patrons!

Classic Craigslist mayhem: "To the girls who smoke pot in the bathrooms: Yes it was me who called the cops. No that doesn’t make me racist and no you can’t come back. I don’t care that it’s going to rain. When you get arrested in my bathroom you can’t come back, even if it means you get wet. "

Alistair Cooke's 'letters' to The Times
Before Letters From America, Cooke wrote similar columns for The Times and their blog offers a sample with links to scans of the original articles.

Behind the Britney Story: A Conversation With Writer Jenny Eliscu
Rolling Stone goes meta by interviewing the journalist who interviewed Spears for their cover article.

Thanksgiving Dinner is Sadder in Space
I hope my US readers are enjoying the holiday weekend. If you're disappointed by your relatives cooking, take a look at the plate in this linked article, part of which looks like its already been digested.

Simon Heffer's irate email to Daily Telegraph staff

Oddly enough I can well sympathise with this, especially look at some of the mistakes, though considering the speed with which newspaper copy is churned out sometimes they're bound to happen, especially if they've let go of sub-editors who are vital in making sure the copy makes sense before it's published. On the couple of occasions I've been subbed it's been a godsend. Or should that be Godsend?

Incidentally, I've set up a shared items page at Google, some of which might be linked here too, most of which won't.

I’ve just watched the entirety of The West Wing in about two months, probably about one season a week.

"TV I’ve just watched the entirety of The West Wing in about two months, probably about one season a week. I haven’t had time for much else other than the usual and my Lovefilm picks. There’s been a rash of similar statements in some of the blogs I read regularly, mostly I’m guessing because the boxset has been reduced to about fifty pounds everywhere and with the election and a renewed interest in US politics, it’s fun to watch the idealised version which offered so much hope during the darker moments of the past eight years. The show began at the tail end of the Clinton years and perhaps if you squint you can almost pretend the Democrats didn’t leave the White House.

Regularly readers will know that previously I’ve been very harsh on the John Wells era, usually holding it up as an example of what can go wrong when the producer and creator of a show leaves and the remaining production team have to deal with the fall out, desperately trying to recreate the special ingredient that their previous boss took with them. I also usually throw Aaron Sorkin’s name into the list along with Joss Whedon, Steven Moffat and sometimes Amy Sherman-Palladino of Gilmore Girls as peerless writers that much of the rubbish we have to endure can’t be compared to. What I’ve discovered in the past couple of weeks rewatching the Sorkinless years is that the distinction isn’t entirely clear cut. In other words, much to my surprise, I come to praise the Wells era rather to bury it.

I should say before offering this defense of sorts that The West Wing became a different show in those later seasons. I’ve already spoken haphazardly about the shocking difference between the cliffhanger ending of Season Four, in which Barlett’s daughter Zoe is kidnapped then rescued. The first few Wells episodes have more in common with 24 than the show I adored, lacking the poetry, humour and lyricism I'd come to expect. In fact, much of the first half of season five is horrible with episodes such as Constituency of One during which the characters essentially argue for forty minutes and Disaster Relief or the one were Josh notoriously shouts at a building (Congress) as he feels himself being politically sidelined pointing to were many of us might have fallen out of love with the series.

Yet seeing the season in about five days without a week in between to become disgruntled, it’s possible to see that there’s still some gold here. The Supremes about the search and negotiations to fill a spot on the supreme court is amazing and wouldn’t have felt out of place in earlier seasons, with the ultimate plan of action being inspired by Donna’s cats and a string of guest stars including Glenn Close and William Fichtner as judges whose beliefs neatly complement and cancel each other out. Talking Points and CJ’s solution to making the press room interested in a story about the buy out of local news by major corporations and the heartwrenching Gaza or Danna Discovers the Middle Eastern problem.

It’s worth noting that these episodes are written by Deborah Cahn, Eli Attie and Peter Noah who along with a number of others would form a writers room that would cover the bulk of the episodes in the next two seasons. When he took over the role, Wells said he had no intention of even attempting to capture Sorkin’s voice and that’s true – the structure of the episodes is closer to e.r. than in previous years with immigration issues instead of emergency heart surgery with the knock on effect that there’s less stories simply foregrounding character over ongoing story arcs, fewer shows in which characters simply sit around in rooms working their way through a talking point of the week.

To an extent plotting becomes more obviously mechanical with Toby’s leaking of classified information about a secret military space shuttle seeming particularly out of character considering how he railed against Bartlett in earlier years about his own indiscretions. Richard Schiff said that he suspected his character was being sidelined because of his political views and them not fitting in this version of the show (he walked this back a bit later) but it’s probably symptomatic of the show’s change in attitude to political discourse, from being a central plank of the series in the Sorkin years to being a kind of prop to whatever was being discussed that week, the negotiation itself becoming important rather than what’s being negotiated for. That said, the episode in which he’s fired, Here Today, it meticulously written and directed recalling the earlier episode when the MS is finally revealed to the staff.

Yet, the series really becomes sprightly again in the closing two series. It essentially become two programmes, as though someone is running alternate episodes of tv remakes of The American President and The Candidate though there’s more cross-pollinating than I remember with stories in the west wing and on the campaign trail appearing in the same episode. There are also just as many episodes set in the White House as on the road including the really interesting Internal Displacement written by Bradley Whitford (who plays Josh) with CJ negotiating to trying to solve the crisis in Darfur. If there’s one problem with the closing two series its that CJ becomes less fun, more of an exposition machine than she was even as press secretary (something Alison Janney herself identified) but this really plays to the strengths of the character.

A particular weakness in these later series is the new characters. Most of them don’t really have a life outside of their respective stories, we know little of their families, and though that allows for that lovely scene in the first episode set on election night in which Josh realises that he didn’t know that the rest of his staff were boinking one another or that Ronna was gay it’s probably the reason why we’re still so attached to Sorkin’s original creations – though Will is very poorly treated I think, with his sister removed and largely becoming either an adversary for Josh during the primaries or CJ’s whipping boy later on. That said, Kate Harper firmly took over from Ainsley Hayes as the object of my affection, actress Mary McCormack achieving much the same feat she did in Murder One of fleshing out her character, though in the writing there’s the suggestion, in that boozy flashback in the bizarre episode were Leo meets Castro, Ninety Miles Away, that the pre-White House Harper had a very interesting Alias-style undercover career. I don’t think any of the back story for any of the other characters is quite that vivid.

The main problem I had with the ’06 election first time around was just, um, probably that it broke up the original ensemble and was telling a story which fans weren’t expecting. With some distance though, it’s a very good fictionalisation of a presidential campaign and the knowledge that the Democrat Santos was based on the new US presidents adds a whole new texture. Throughout there are scary moments in which life imitates art, and you have to wonder if Obama’s advisors had the series in mind when the financial crisis happened; Barack went to ground and let McCain make a fool of himself just as Santos goes quiet during a nuclear exposition and its Vinick who blinks first. The bravest episodes are probably those which foreground Vinick, whose politics run so counter to what the show is about that sometimes it can be compared to watching a version of Star Wars were Darth Vader is the hero (and I don’t mean The Phantom Menace).

If you’re still an undecided, I’d at the very least watch everything from Election Day onwards. They’re closest to the spirit of the Sorkin years as original characters return for cameos and more in the wake of Leo’s death and a general feeling of the series being put to rest. The exception being The Last Hoorah, that that is still exceptional, one of the few explorations I’ve seen of what happens to the other candidate after a presidential election as Vinick becomes yesterday’s man and goes from having packed schedule to nothing at all. It’s brilliantly carried by Alan Alda, whose mournful gate can’t quite digest that the election is over. Institutional Memory is the best of the bunch as CJ has to decide what happens next and if Danny figures in any of it, with Xander Berkley appearing as a kind of philanthropic Bill Gates.

I said originally of the last episode that it had “the odd nice character moment but no drama” but I’ve now decided that’s probably about right since in reality that’s exactly how final days anywhere turn out to be. And there is drama, in Bartlett’s decision to pardon Toby. This time around, far from being frustrated by the lack of call backs to earlier times, I sobbed, real tears, more than that became disappointed that we wouldn’t get to see the first year of the Santos administration with Josh in Leo’s job and Sam working Josh’s beat. The show didn’t really recreate the magic of those early years, yet it was still miles ahead of many tv dramas, wasn’t afraid to take risks now and then and though it probably failed as much as it succeeded, it could have been much, much worse.

good luck and take care

Liverpool Confidential: Jobs shock at Post and Echo -- Nearly a quarter of journalists to go, and Saturday Daily Post to vanish in latest Old Hall Street misery
I know a couple of you might be mixed up in this and my ranting about it won't help. So all I'll say is good luck and take care.

Jemima Kiss: The UK's hidden newspaper archives
Which is a good reminder that you can digitise material all you want but it's still no substitute for the original or for paper.

Twenty things librarians want patrons to know!
I'm not sure about (2) though. I'm not sure a responsible librarian would supply an 18 certificate film to a minor.

McDonald's did away with its spoon-shaped coffee stirrers because people were using them as cocaine spoons.
Another snopes expose. Note they didn't get rid of them because kids like me used to chew the end off.

the fine line between envy and bitterness
Obama's West Wing-style appointees continue. Here's the Sam Seaborn.

Santa Monica Public Library Memorial
Depression-era fresco that looks like a precursor to Yellow Submarine (the film).

A Note From Producer Tom Werman.
Popdose offers write of reply to a producer who disliked their review of Motley Crew's Girls, Girls, Girls or more specifically his part in it: "If you’re logging on to this site to read blogs about music that are allegedly written by people who are qualified to do so, then demand a modicum of accuracy. Check some facts now and then. Somehow, in some way, I must have slighted or offended Mr. Bolin in the past. I can see no other reason for this left-field assault on my professional and personal integrity."

Unhappy Farewell to Stalag 666
Another example of same but much worse. Stalag 666 is a strip in 2000 AD comic that has attracted a fair amount of unpleasant criticism. Rather than simply rolling over, writer Tony Lee describes some of the worst of it at a public forum, including the unpleasant human deposit he found in his mail. Ugh.

Element Four
... produced water from the air. Hello, future, it's good to see you. It's just a pity Tomorrow's World isn't still on so we can see Maggie Philbin trying to demonstrate it in a studio.

I once did Beavis and Butt-head impressions to Alan Bennett.

Meme

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Stuart Burns
2. Stuart Ian Burns (there's a subtle difference)
3. Stu

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. springandfall
2. groovejet42
3. feelinglistless

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. Bush hair
2. Expressive eyes (apparentlY)
3. Big toe

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My long nose
2. My slightly deformed little finger
3. Ear wax

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Partially Scottish on my Dad's side
2. Mostly Liverpudlian on my mum's side
3. The way I say Somerset

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Loneliness
2. Listlessness
3. Lovelessness

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Radio 4
2. Wheetabix
3. The Guardian

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING NOW:
1. Sweat-pants
2. T-shirt
3. A look of determination

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Madeleine Peyroux
2. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
3. Miles Davis

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS RIGHT NOW:
1. Maggie Gyllenhaal: 'How Lucky Am I?'
2. Miles Davis: 'So What?'
3. Axelle Red: 'Grootvader Geplant'

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Reliability
2. More thans small talk.
3. To be learning.

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1. I once did Beavis and Butt-head impressions to Alan Bennett
2. I once accidentally tried to chat up a soap star and didn't realise until weeks later
3. I once lost track of how old I am.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Intelligent.
2. Smiley.
3. Opinionated.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Films
2. Reading
3. Music

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Have a proper holiday.
2. Be able to write more than the few words this meme requires.
3. Know how to cook properly.

THREE CAREERS YOU’RE CONSIDERING/YOU’VE CONSIDERED:
1. Editorial Researcher
2. Film writer
3. Zoologist

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Washington
2. New York
3. Tokyo

THREE NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Lucinda
2. Helene
3. Miri

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Do something useful
2. Smile more
3. Learn all of the words to REM's 'It's The End of the World as we know it and I Feel Fine'

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I cry at everything
2. I know that all men are bastards. Or most of them.
3. I think that sport gets too much coverage.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I'm forgetful.
2. I don't shave often enough.
3. I don't know what I've lost until it's gone.

It was the early Eighties I think when I first went into an MFI.

Life It was the early eighties I think when I first went into an MFI. Our family had finally decided to buy a wardrobe (that sat in my room for well over a decade until the back finally fell through). My memory of the trip is dim, but I remember being plonked in the sparse children's play area with some lego but was quickly bored and decided to hunt around the shop for my parents. I remember walking through the fitted kitchen samples, whole rooms reconstructed in-store, realising even at that young age and these cupboards and drawers and sink fittings were nothing like the make shift hand me downs we had at home. It seemed magical, like a palace, and with my small legs went on forever.

Woolworths is also a brand which always seems to have been there, though unlike the furniture warehouse it's somewhere I've shopped a lot. I buy my Easter eggs there and they're always a good place to pick up cheap dvds and cds. For ages the tat in my room was stacked in plastic storage boxes bought there, and I suspect there isn't a room in the flat which doesn't have something which originated in Woolies. But also I was knew the retailer wouldn't survive. The likes of Tesco moved into its turf, Metros and even Expresses offering cds and magazine, blank media and sometimes at even more competitive prices. It's too diverse in its product range, and with a reputation for not being exceptional at any one thing, though I hear the children's departments are very good.

It's happened before; When C&A, or place I used to buy my school trousers, died it was unusual, a once in a decade occurance. The loss of these two businesses confirms that no one is safe from the onslaught of what I still think will become a depression, even shops with ninety-nine years worth of high street service, disappearing. An interesting knock-on effect for some of us in relation to the Woolworths implosion is that they have a stake in 2Entertain, who for the past half decade have been publish the BBC's dvd releases and particularly Doctor Who. For now, that looks safe, and BBC Worldwide who own the other stake are looking to buy the business outright.

But obviously the more important concern is for the thousands of people who are looking at signing on next week. I should just be happy that I have a job at all in this climate. I'd hate to be starting from scratch again right now.

I'm surprised Starbucks hasn't opened on Lark Lane already.

Our mains electricity cut out earlier causing widespread panic around the nine rooms that constitute the flat. I tried turning everything, I thought, flicked some switches, but nothing would work. We rang the electrician who visited just twenty minutes later, an older man with a youngster close-by. This is the set up whenever a repairman visits. Always two there are, the master and the apprentice. Sorry. Anyway, he enters, opens the cupboard, flicks a few switches, and the power comes back on. Apparently he has twenty identical calls a day because people don’t know how the system works and he’s basically training us, once household at a time.

Robert Altman: His dangerous angel remembers
Virginia Madsen talks about working with the director on his final film, A Prairie Home Companion, which I adored.

Something Awful Weddings
Example: "Elbowed my cousin's four year old step-daughter in the face on accident as she jetted across the dance floor."

McDonalds Japan Goes No-Brand with Quarter Pounder Shops

I haven't been underneath the golden arches for well over two years now, but I'm forever tempted. Apart from the health and environmental issues, I'm always concerned that I'll be disappointed. Last time I tasted a Big Mac it was very flat.

Atari: The Golden Years
Ataris were always something other people owned so this is a good way to catch up on someone else's history.

A Pop Culture Rant...Feel Free to Skip
Alternate commentary on Heroes taking a much more balanced approach than I did the other day. We're pretty much in agreement -- Kring can't see the wood for trees and doesn't know what the strengths of his own series are. I showed the infamous panel to a work colleague the other day. She said: "I mean what's he got the whine about?" Meanwhile:

Tim Kring Apologizes For 'Mangled Quote'
This is looking increasingly like the Ratners moment for the series. I expect he'll be fired if there's a fourth season and someone good like Bryan Fuller will be installed. If only Joss were free.

Challenged Ballots: You Be The Judge
A range of challenged ballots from the narrowing Coleman/Franken senate race. I don't understand how some of these could happen. All they're doing is colouring in an oval.

BBC Audio Returns
A whole raft of off-air audio recording from lost BBC programmes have been 'returned' to the archive and he's a list of new merchandising opportunities.

Modern Pentathlon change irks Livingston
"The sport's governing body has voted to combine the disciplines of shooting and running into one event from January." Yes, really. I expect it's to delineate the running discipline from athletics, but I can't see how making it a start-stop-shoot-start-stop-shoot will help the sport's media profile.

Be-A-Magpie Is PayPerPost For Twitter
Wrong headed attempt to monetarise Twitter; as TechCrunch notes if all someone is posting is adverts there's little incentive to continue following them.

Richard Klein named as BBC4 controller
This is excellent news and the linked article is full of juicy quotes demonstrating why. Example: "Too many docs are commissioned, frankly, to do no more than shock and titillate, to thrill. They may well have a semblance of insight but actually it is a mask to feed our baser desires to stare, to mock, to revel in sensation." Hopefully this means Storyville is safe again for the time being.

Fed up Liverpool-Manchester passengers put squeeze on East Midlands Trains by sending controller something fishy in post
It's my old commuter line again. Enough being enough, a new protest group has been formed who will be sending tins of sardines to the management to see if it'll get them to budge and put more carriages on the service. A spokesman on the television earlier said they were aware of the problem and were talking about increasing regularity, but that's not what people are asking for. They just want to know that they can get on the train safely with it arrives. Here's a video of a typical morning service.

public radio podcasts rss feeds
The NPR's own website lacking its own feeds, a fan has set up a website filled with them instead.

BBC: Are there too many bars on Lark Lane?
Lark Lane - boho retreat or binge-drinking strip?
Considering its only across the park from me, I visit Lark Lane less and less. When we first moved here, it was a novelty in comparison to Speke and the city centre, quirkier. Now it seems have become infected by a problem which blights the city in general -- that whenever a property does become vacant it becomes a bar or restaurant or chain coffee shop. I'm surprised Starbucks hasn't opened on Lark Lane already. Not that I wouldn't be too averse to having a Starbucks in walking distance. Ooh, now I'm conflicted.

Yves Klein Blue
If only all band names were this clever.

Student houses don’t often feel like homes.



Life When I was in my third year as a student at Leeds Metropolitan University during the mid-90s I lived at 38 Harold Walk, an end house within walking distance of the city centre and my home campus at Beckett Park (see above). Five years ago I revisited the house and solved a few issues I had with the place, which I wrote about at the time and I’ve rarely thought of the place since, mostly when I was chatting to someone who also went to the university and we were swapping notes about where we’d lived. Most of them knew the Harolds.

Student houses don’t often feel like homes. Apart from not having all of your belongings there, unless you’re settled in with friends for years on end, you recognise it’s just a temporary stop and you know that someone else was there three months before and after you stacked your books on the shelf in the room, piled your bacon in the fridge. You rarely leave your mark so you’ve no idea if the person who’s shared your room had the same problems with it you did. But you can’t help asking yourself – are you like me?

Then this afternoon as I was checking my referrer logs I noticed someone had googled “38 harold walk” and “leeds”. Could be someone thinking of moving in there, someone who’s lived there, someone wanting to find the place at Google Maps. Either way, I was curious enough to see how far up the ranking my blog was. Second it turned out, the first result being some kind of auto house evaluation site looking at properties in the area (£220,000). Then there was the third.

It’s Karaoke Queens, a blog in Icelandic by two Reykjavik natives and here’s the twist and reason I’m writing this – they lived at 38 Harold Walk ten years after I did! I love how sometimes a bit of your life can sometimes resurface online, and that it's not just Facebook reintroducing you to people. Not speaking any Icelandic, I can’t say what they thought of the place, but in this post which judging by the date was published when they moved in the full address is given (I’d forgotten the postcode) and here at what looks like the end of their year there are some photographs, of the clothes shop opposite and the pavement outside complete with the much needed bars on the kitchen window.

I’d love to know what they thought of the place, if the landlords improved it during that decade. It didn’t look much different when I was loitering around outside in 2003, but I wonder if the room I had next to the toilet has been soundproofed, the 1940s furniture had been replaced or the cellar cleared out and if they had as many incidents with people trying break in or grab things through the window. If you are them and you're reading this, please get in touch and let me know. And everyone else -- how is your Icelandic?

(Thanks to Suw and Karie for having a better recognition of the world’s languages than I do, especially after I asked on Twitter before simply looking at the About page...duh...)

The Zygon Who Fell To Earth.

Audio Forty-five years. Let those syllable roll around your mouth as you say them out loud. Four-tee-five-yeeaarrrs. A certain sketch from Doctor Who Night not withstanding, it’s doubtful Sydney, Verity and Waris had any idea that the tale they began with an imagined ‘One upon a time…’ and a junkyard all those years ago would still be in the process of being told four and a half decades later, with full stop or ‘The End’ nowhere in sight. The Doctor might walk into the sunset now and then, be interrupted by a freeze frame or make some bad choices, but he continues, still fighting.

And what better way to celebrate than with a story which typically captures exactly why he endures, that features an incarnation of the Doctor who only appeared in the show’s natural home of television once, in a version made in an unnatural home after a gap of seven years or so and who five years later began recording audio versions for cd. The play is authored by a writer who arguably found favour producing novels based on this incarnation and includes a monster who appeared on television only once, thirty years ago. Phew.

Happy birthday to you, Doctor Who. You don’t look a day over forty-two.

Even with it's rather fantastic title (which almost canonizes the play as a classic in and of itself) The Zygon Who Fell To Earth is another example of the kind trick Paul Magrs which has always stood Paul Magrs in good stead, in which his more way out ideas are threaded through a fairly traditional story type. So his Tenth Doctor novel, Sick Building, features a base under siege story inhabited by sentient sunbeds and vending machines, or his story for the last series of Eighth and Lucie stories, The Horror of Glam Rock, in which a roadside café was attacked by what I still maintain were killer Wombles. This latest episode is a small scale alien invasion story, which the crashed remnants of a race attempt to take over the world, but with the twist that one of the aliens had gone native, assumed the identity of folk singer, married a woman we know as Lucie’s Auntie and opened up a small lakeside hotel, surprising omnisexual implications included. Unlike City of Death, the twist is that Pat is fully aware that her significant other is a space invader and doesn’t see why it should be a barrier to a successful marriage.

In the hands of another writer this could have been mawkish or silly or weighed down by its own philosophical pomposity. But by opening on a light mood before nihilistically sticking the knife in, or in this case, the Skaresen, he gives the listener some time to become attached to the characters. If only all of writers of these plays had been so patient. Lynsey Hardwick’s Patricia makes a welcome return but the reunion is not overplayed for a change having occurred off-speaker before the adventure begins. Trevor is as normal as can be (considering), Steven Pacey’s regional gasp underscoring his ordinary life, despite his extraordinary origins. Even as the Doctor and Lucie natter about Wordsworth, this is a domestic scene, with even the visiting Zygons forced to partake in its crushing, restful triviality.

At this point, the story might not have been about aliens at all, but two cold war spies turning up to remind a sleeper of his duties. Except the neat performances Malcolm Stoddard and Tim Brook-Taylor (Goodie, goodie, yum, yum) offer the impression of something being very wrong with Urtak and Mims, oh, and the title, which unlike Brave New Town of couple of weeks ago gives a fairly big hint of the returning alien. Which is where, hidden in the middle of this paragraph, I make a rather startling revelation. I’ve never seen Terror of the Zygons, which I know in some circles is tantamount to saying that you haven’t visited a galaxy, far, far, away. But bar some publicity stills, a few clips of Tom in a tamoshanta and the usual osmosis which means I know what Sarah Jane was talking about in School Reunion with the Loch Ness Monster, I’ve no idea what happens in that story.

Though clearly I do now, since the bottom end of The Zygon Who Fell To Earth explains everything you need to know, unexpectedly pulling in a references to The Bodysnatchers, an old Eighth Doctor novel I’d tried to forget. The exposition's not exactly seemless, but for once it doesn't get in the way of the drama. I'm surprised the new series hasn’t resurrected the Zygons yet, with their budget saving ability to assume human form, though admittedly the Slitheen and The Family of Blood have done much the same thing. They were achieved very well on audio with the huskiness of their voices demarking the change in shape, and their personalities, a kind of teenage hectoring mixed with utter sadism with a dash of strategic genius, perfect for the 80s setting in which just that kind of personality made a killing on the stock market (the fallout from which we’re finally having to deal with). But they’re hard to dislike even as they’re plotting to use a mix of the plot of the film which almost bares this play's name and a lo-fi version of the Sontaran stratagem to take over the world.

Like that adventure too, we’ve an evil companion doppelganger, Lucie this time instead of Martha, and like Freema, Sheridan understood that the best way to play those scene is simply to key the performance down slightly, remove the lively spikes from the tone of voice. Also as in that adventure, we’ve a livelier Doctor seemingly offering enough bumptiousness for the two of them, asking the questions which his companion is strangely forgetting about, commenting instead of curious. I’ve been loving McGann’s attack on the role in these stories and he’s in good spirits here, with in the darker moments, a return of the man we remember from the earlier audios, the commanding rather than bluff presence, deciding exactly which status quo he thinks should be perpetuated.

This was grade A, top side Doctor Who of the kind which pops up now and then and reminds you of why you love the franchise. Having made the pun in the title, Magrs feels the need to inject some further musical references, making the main supporting character a musician. But typically rather than simply turning Trevor into a former Bowie impersonator or something, instead he's an ex-folk singer and we get to hear his hit anyway, sung with great determination by the man who was once Tarrant in Blake's 7. I love these sojurn's into fake music history and this is certainly preferable to Children of Tomorrow from last year, even in deliciously accurate rubbish 80s 12" remix.

But it’s at the close of what's been an uneven radio series that we finally see what the show is capable of and if you haven’t heard the play yet, I’d look away now. That final moment in which Lucie reflects on the death of her Auntie Pat and how she can’t be dead because she remembers her, with the Doctor explaining that the web of time is a resilient construct, is amazing, and probably the best scene this series. It takes a giant sci-fi concept which has developed across the decades, and makes it personal, explaining why the Whoniverse can be contradictory and demonstrating that even a simple human can deal with the consequences of that and then, like Father’s Day, someone makes a sacrifice so that it can happen. Was Trevor’s meant to survive all along or are we seeing/hearing an example of how time rights itself? We might never know.

Next Week: The Chimes at Midnight !?! Or I might have another idea …

the bit in the middle where I lose my way

Elsewhere A review of last night's Doctor Who. Feels right that there should have been a new, and actually very good episode broadcast on the birthday of the series, even if it was on digital radio.

Christmas moment.

Every year I have a Christmas moment. It usually happens some time late in October, or early in November. I’ll walking down the street, watching television, listening to music or traveling somewhere and realise that, well, Christmas is coming. Each year, though, I think my Christmas moment is coming later and later (unlike the tat in shops which is on sale earlier and earlier – give it a decade and the plastic Christmas trees and tinsel will be on the shelves on the Bank Holiday after Easter).

Perhaps it’s just my age, perhaps I’m becoming more jaded, perhaps or perhaps. I even thought that this year it wouldn’t happen, that I’d be sitting on Christmas Eve wrapping presents, eating mince pies and watching The Muppet Christmas Carol and trying to work out what I’ll be doing the next day. It’s happened before.

Then, the other day, well alright, Mon-day, it finally happened. I’d just left Zack and Miri, thinking about visit Lakeland Plastics, looked up and saw these:


Xmas decorations, originally uploaded by saralparker.

Giant plastic 'paper' chains, some might say strewn, others dangling across the Liverpool One Shopping Centre. One of those visions you know subconsciously must be appearing at a hundred similar retail opportunities across the world, but even so look impossible. I had a Christmas moment and an overwhelming feeling of goodwill shot through me from my head to toe and I've been smiling ever since.