WWM Weekly Bastard: Trevor Jordache

Over the years, television’s thrown up its fair share of shitbags, bad eggs and turds. We like to call these people ‘Bastards’, and in the first of a new weekly series, we here at WWM turn our sights on that bastard Trevor Jordache – Brookside’s very own Satan made flesh, who slithered onto the close in 1993 …

Tracking down the family he’d abused to a safe house, Trevor used his lovable Irish charm (or: bare-faced lies) to worm his way back into his wife Mandy’s affections, and then quickly set about destroying not only her life, but also the lives of his two daughters, Rachael and Beth.

He took to the bottle, sexually abused his youngest daughter in her bed as his wife slept next door, drove his eldest daughter (who he’d also abused as a little girl) away from home and beat and humiliated his wife Mandy so badly over the course of a year that there was only ever one way this disgusting Irish ratbag’s storyline was going to end: murder.

And what an entertaining murder it was too! First Mandy and Beth tried feeding Trevor weed killer, but that only gave him a stomach ache. Then the two desperate women tried grinding up aspirins in his milk. Catching them in the act, Trevor roared, ‘Yis bloody pair o’ bitches!’, and set about beating his daughter to death. And so, with Trevor otherwise engaged, poor, put-upon Mandy did the decent thing and stabbed the bastard in the back.

Then it was only a matter of burying him under the patio, getting found out, going on the run, ending up in prison, Beth dying of a heart defect whilst banged up, Mandy being acquitted, Trevor’s mother trying to kill her, blah blah blah …

Trevor was the most appalling example of a wife-beating drunken child abuser soap has ever seen. Even Little Mo’s tormentor Trevor (what is it about that name?) couldn’t come close … primarily because he didn’t diddle kids. It is for that reason that we at WWM are proud to announce Trevor Jordache’s inaugeration into the WWM TV Bastards Hall of Fame. Trevor – we salute you, you complete and utter bastard!

Have YOU got a favourite TV bastard? Tell us who it is, and they could appear as a half-arsed filler article in a future edition of your Super Sunshine Watch With Mothers …

The Friday Question – Killer Combos

After carefully examining the available evidence, your Honour, WWM has concluded the Armstrong / Miller / Mitchell / Webb cross-contamination incident which occurred on last week’s mainly mirthless Comic Relief was surprisingly good. Indeed, the pairing was such a roaring success (well … it was in the context of the rest of the pig shit on offer that night anyway), it’s got us wondering what other television super groups we’d like to see grace our screens.

Would the epic teaming of Loadsofmoney, Kevin’s Teenager, Stavrakebabros and Wayno and Waynola Scum in the same sketch produce comedy gold? Or would it go down about as well as setting light to your own farts would at a family funeral?

Would Paxman and Humphries bating the same politician at the same time be the greatest political interrogation tag team the earth has ever seen? Or would they end up bickering amongst themselves, leaving their quarry to slink back to Westminster unharmed?

And just how much of a disaster would Jim Davidson & Ben Elton’s Big Break actually be?

So, come on, WWMers! Let’s have your ideal television mash-ups! Who do YOU think should team up to produce television magnificence, and who do you reckon would go together about as well as a shit and pickle sandwich?

Over to you …

Just A Thought – The Future Of ITV

There’s been a lot of hoo-ha in the meejia over the continuing decline of ITV. Britain’s third channel has recently shelved family favourites such as Heartbeat and The Royal, there are rumblings that local news will eventually disappear from our screens and many of the lavish dramas the channel is justly celebrated for have either already been canned or cancelled before a shot’s been filmed. Indeed, if advertising revenue continues to plummet, there’s a real worry that ITV could cease to exist entirely.

If this happened, we’d lose quite a lot of very popular and, in some cases, important television: Coronation Street, The Bill, Emmerdale, The X Factor, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, Taggart, A Touch Of Frost, Harry Hill’s TV Burp, I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here!, You’ve Been Framed, Midsomer Murders … love ‘em or hate ‘em, there’s no denying ITV still pumps out some big ass shows. The loss of Coronation Street, for example, would be a hammer-blow to the very heart of what makes British television unique, and a personal tragedy for millions of viewers.

But would this really happen? If ITV dies the death many pundits fear, would a show as culturally significant as Coronation Street be allowed to go down in flames with the rest of the channel? Surely another broadcaster would come to its rescue? I don’t believe for one minute that a show that regularly brings in an audience of 14 million viewers would be consigned to the history books because the place it’s called home for the last forty nine years disappears from under it. If the worst happened, I strongly suspect Coronation Street would be snapped up by the likes of Sky One. Hell, I could even see it on the BBC.

If something as identifiably ‘ITV’ as Coronation Street appearing elsewhere seems hard to contemplate, just remember it wouldn’t be the first time. ITV originally broadcast Men Behaving Badly, yet it was the BBC that turned it into the comedy juggernaut it later became. Auf Wiedersehen, Pet had two series on channel three before being successfully revived, once again, by the good old BBC. And let’s not forget both Channel 5 and Sky have gone resurrection crazy with rubbish such as Gladiators, Minder, Going For Gold and Superstars shitting blood all over the schedules.

If we were to lose ITV, I suspect, sadly, that we’d never see the likes of Frost, Midsomer Murders or Taggart again, but I reckon the loss of the channel wouldn’t necessarily mean the loss of Coronation Street, The Bill, Emmerdale or Millionaire. I’d be willing to bet the truly inspired TV Burp would resurface on Channel 4, and you can bet your arse the monumentally greedy Simon Cowell would be banging on Rupert Murdoch’s door to make sure both The X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent didn’t go the way of the dodo. Similarly, I’m A Celebrity would be so at home on Sky, I’m surprised it’s not there already.

Losing ITV would be, for many of us, like losing a beloved family member. However, like the old family photos you come across every now and again, the bits and bobs of theirs you find in a drawer, there would be enough mementos of it about to keep its memory alive.

Indeed, the death of ITV could be the best thing that ever happened to the channel. We’d still have all its best bits spread about the schedules, and none of the shit that has brought the channel’s reputation to its knees. That, bizarrely, could be ITV’s saving grace.

The Friday Question – Soap Yourself

Buttercup Lane –

Love and Betrayal in a Family-Owned and Run Rural Garden Centre …

Ted Clappers: Maureen?
Maureen Clappers: Yes, Ted?
Ted Clappers: Did you put in that order for more pruning saws? We’re down to our last box.
Maureen Clappers: Yes, Ted. I phoned the supplier this …
Frankie Clappers: Mum, dad … I … I’ve got something to say …
Ted Clappers: What is it, son?
Frankie Clappers: I’m … I’m gay.
Maureen Clappers: Oh my god!
Ted Clappers: You’re what?!
Frankie Clappers: Gay, dad, gay. I like men’s bums.
Ted Clappers: WHAT??
Maureen Clappers: Oh, Frankie! Not in front of the Geraniums!
Frankie Clappers: I’m sorry, mum, but I had to say it. I’ve been gay ever since Julie was killed last year when the terrorists attacked the nursery sheds.
Ted Clappers: This can’t be happening! My son, a woof …
Frankie Clappers: That’s right! I knew you wouldn’t understand, dad! You’re prejudiced! Prejudiced against us gays. Ever since you caught Harry having unnatural relations with Daft Tony and saw what their shenanigans had done to the Chinese Trumpet Creepers, you’ve turned your back on tolerance!
Ted Clappers: It wasn’t YOU what had to shell out for four new palettes of Climbing Hydrangeas, my lad!
Frankie Clappers: It’s always money with you! You’re a monster!
Ted Clappers: How dare you speak to me like that in front of your mother!
Jeb Drudger: Mr. Clappers?
Ted Clappers: Yes, what is it, Jeb?
Jeb Drudger: I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but that was Jackson’s on the phone …
Maureen Clappers: The suppliers?
Jeb Drudger: Yes, Mrs. Clappers. They … they …
Ted Clappers: Come on, Jeb, spit it out!
Jeb Drudger: They … they can’t deliver your order of Carpet Bugles because there’s been a mix-up at the depot …
Maureen Clappers: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

So that’s WWM’s idea for a new soap opera, but what’s yours?

• Where is it set?
• Who are the main characters?
• What hot topics will it cover?
• Will it be a glamorous, Dynasty-style slice of fluff, or will it be a gritty urban drama where everyone’s got The AIDS?
• Who do you want in it?
• What era will it be set in?
• Is there any chance you could give Paul Shane a job in it?

And, most importantly, what’s the soap’s resident dog, and what’s his / her name? Is it a poodle like Roley was, or an Alsation crossed with whatever the hell Wellard was crossed with? Hey, it’s not something like Ethel’s little Willie, is it?

Y’know – a source of endless cock jokes?

WWMers, it’s over to YOU …

Just A Thought: TV Coppers

Unless I’m wrong and they’ve changed the rules thanks to all these Elf ‘n’ Safety Nazis (© R. Littlejohn – You Couldn’t Make it Up Industries, USA), isn’t the retirement age for a UK policeman on or below the rank of Chief Inspector 60? If so, how’s that old bastard Jack Frost managed to stay under the radar? Surely he’s in his 70s now, isn’t he?

And what about Dalziel off of Dalziel and Pascoe? He’s not in his fifties, surely? Both Warren Clarke and David Jason were adults working on the telly and in films when my mother was a teenager, never mind me. How come they’re still allowed to play policemen at their age? Isn’t it time their roles were handed to younger, more believable blood?

I mean, you’ve not got Sean Connery doddering on screen, trailing his catheter bag behind him, still claiming he’sh Bond, Jamesh Bond when he’s clearly about twenty minutes away from the having the Grim Reaper kick his door down and inform him the game’s up. No, he knew when to throw in the towel (if you ignore Diamonds Are Forever – IGNORE IT). So why not these craggy old fogies?

I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I’d be happy if my non-existent wife got murthered and the senior investigating officer turned up stinking of lavender, Fox’s Glacier Mints, Bingo and decay. Fuck that. Get rid of ’em , I say. It’s about time we got some young ‘uns in.

Like Nick Berry.

The Friday Question: Horse Flogging

Morning, everyone!

If you work from home, you’re a housewife, you’re old or, like in WWM reader Dave’s case, you’re sat staring into the black hole of despair that is unemployability after being caught reading WWM at work, you’ll know all about daytime TV.

This is the filthy dumping ground we daytime skivers get to enjoy while all the proper folk are at work. And what a dumping ground it is: antiques shows, cookery shows, gardening and DIY shows, laughing at poor people shows and, of course, kids in hospital shows that tug at our wastrel heartstrings.

But is that it? Is that all the bloody choice we get? Surely there are other things daytime TV could flog to death in the way it has cookery, antiques and DIY? What about stamp collecting? Or flower arranging? If something as banal as cooking can be turned into television gold, aren’t the possibilities endless?

So come on, WMMers! Let’s have your brand new daytime TV ideas. We want the subject, the format (for instance, is it a quiz, a panel show, a ‘challenge’, etc.) and, of course, what legendary daytime TV presenter you’d want at the helm.

My money’s on Dickinson. For everything.

The Friday Question – WWM TV Room 101

I hate:

Fish fingers, Radio Three, onions, broccolli, The Carpenters, cats, Lincolnshire, monkeys, France, vodka, fashion designers, oysters, Elton John, peppermint creams, Garry Bushell, the 1960s, Radiohead, the Tricorn Centre Plymouth (even though it’s been demolished), fashion models, cheese ‘n pickle sandwiches, leeks, Steve Wright, Look North and cauliflower.

HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE!

Thankfully, courtesy of George Orwell and (more importantly) television, there’s a place for me to deposit my hate – Room 101. Thanks to this wonderful room, you and I can dump the stuff we loathe, leaving lots and lots of shit-free space in our heads to fill with lovely stuff. Lovely stuff such as world peace, the joyful laughter of a happy child … and really quite extraordinarily large knockers.

So, what five pieces of anger-inducing effluent would YOU consign to the prison that is Room 101? And why? What’s got your goat so much you need to lock it away in an imaginary room for ever and ever, amen?

As we’re a telly site, we’re looking for telly shows to throw in Room 101 primarily. Obviously, this being Watch With Mothers, that rule’ll last what? Eight comments? Six?

Ah well, fuck it … it is Friday after all.

Over to you, ladies and gentlemen …

The Friday Question – TV Games

Hello, Napoleon here. I’m taking time out from my poverty stricken Northern life of flat caps, whippets, pigeon-racing, smacking my kids about and dying of consumption to ask you this week’s Friday Question.

Now then. We all love telly … indeed, some of us take the love we have for telly too far. Unpopular WWM reader Dave, for example, has a bizarre sex contraption rigged up to his miserable little set that allows him to ‘virtually’ have sex with children’s television character, Doctor Who. They say you can hear the wailing sobs of utter despair for miles around once he’s finished his shameful business thrice-nightly.

Anyway, I digress. We all love telly, but it’s hardly what you’d call an interactive experience, is it? Yes, you can vote out some wally on Big Brother, or have your cash subtly stolen off you by ITV (those rats), but that’s not exactly the futuristic interactive TV experience that Tomorrow’s World lied to us we’d get back in the ’70s, is it?

But what if it could be? What if your favourite telly show was a game? What would it be, who would you play, and what would happen? Would it be a board game? A card game? Or a whistles ‘n’ bells computer game like wot they have in the future?

To get you started, here’s what Swineshead and I came up with when we were out mugging old ladies earlier in the week …

GRAND THEFT OF THE SUMMER WINE

Play as Compo, Last of the Summer Wine’s loveable, welly-boots wearing lothario. Climb moorland! Find Howard and Marina hiding behind a wall! Knock on Nora’s door and then leg it! Volunteer your services for Foggy’s latest experiment in downhill tin bath charioteering! It’s the sandbox open world game that goes on forever and ever and ever and ever …

SIMS OF A FEATHER

Ever wanted to control one of those awful women off of Birds of a Feather? Fancy watching them eat and eat and eat? Feel inclined to listen to endless hours of unfunny dialogue coming out of the mouth of a painted monstrosity with a shrew’s arsehole for a face? Then you need the world’s only Birds of a Feather simulator! Sound a bit rubbish? Well yes … until you realise you’re the one controlling their bowels!

So there you go. What’s YOUR game, WWMers?