Posts Tagged ‘James Corden’

NewsGush: Forlorn Horne Angry at Media Scorn

March 16, 2009

Afternoon!

Matthew Horne appeared on both BBC Breakfast and ITV’s This Morning today to talk about the sketch show he made with the other one. He was relaxed by the time he hit the kitchen in This Morning, possibly after a good fluffing from @Schofe, but on Breakfast he was a ball of fury, hitting out at his critics in the media.

His main concern was that the viewing figures were high, he said. Him and that other one (the big lad) made the show ‘for people and not for the media’. He said that the ‘backlash’ is not a concern and that people weren’t able to grasp the idea that these sketch ideas will develop over time.

I must have missed the frontlash.

Anyhow – I for one will be tuning in tonight to see how the Spiderman/Superman sketch develops. Will we see the bigger lad’s winky tonight, as well as his big arse? Will they make even more jokes about how the bigger one is not as thin as the thin one? And will we see the big one’s arse again?

One avenue I’d like them to explore is a gag about the weight of the bigger one – and perhaps have him falling over again, while grabbing his big belly and wobbling it about. Christ knows we haven’t seen anywhere near enough of that on our screens.

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One Minute Review: Horne & Corden

March 11, 2009

For those of you who didn’t catch it, a quick round up of all the gags featured in last night’s opening episode of Horne & Corden’s new sketch show. All thirteen jokes are present, including the successful one.

Joke 1
Introduction, with the actually quite amusing sight of a fat man being overexcited. Ruined by a damp punchline squib.

Joke 2
A fat man suddenly notices he is fat and throws away his burger.

Joke 3
A camp news reporter in Iraq, ripped directly from Steve Coogan’s portrayal of Pauline Calf.

Joke 4
A vaguely accurate David Brent impersonation.

Joke 5
Teachers show a class how to draw cocks. Potentially a good gag, ruined by the fact that no cock I ever saw on any exercise book looked like that, because they looked like this.

Joke 6
The perfume ad you’ve already seen that features a naked fat man.

Joke 7
A relay race in which a fat man can be seen trying to compete.

Joke 8
A man pushes another man over on his arse in a supermarket.

Joke 9
Superman chats to Spiderman. Spiderman is fat and we see his big, fat bottom.

Joke 10
A fat man is having sex and can’t finish up.

Joke 11
Whilst discussing strategy, an army officer asks if anyone has a Nokia charger. Eerily reminiscent of a Fast Show classic.

Joke 12
An alcoholic fat man humiliates his ex-schoolmate in front of his family.

Joke 13
Westcountry magicians do a dance routine, in the hope that it will be made funny by the fact that one of them is fat.

End Credits

It’s good to see BBC3 continuing with its schedule of rushed-out, underwritten and flimsy sketch shows. It’s looking like Horne & Corden is a worthy addition to that tradition. Roll on next week.

The Brits – 2009

February 19, 2009

Last night’s Brits then, presented by James ‘why?’ Corden, the bloke off Catherine Tate and, for some reason, Kylie Minogue – when she wasn’t stage-right, getting changed into another unremarkable frock.

I watched it whilst taking notes, drinking tea and twittering. The twittering was more fun than the show – and when talking in less than 140 characters to strangers on a computer is more entertaining than a massive showbiz event, you know you’ve got problems.

Here then, are my notes, twitterings and musings, in REAL TIME!

The night opens with a Johnny Vegas voiceover which, from hereon in, kicks in every time a new award’s being dished out, prompting the audience to ponder how much they paid him to rattle off a few intros. Then – BANG! – we’re straight into a live performance from… some old men.

It’s U2, and Bono really ain’t getting any younger or any more original – demonstrated by the fact their new single sounds exactly like six other U2 singles. Adam Clayton is increasingly starting to look like Homer Simpson’s dad and the Edge still needs to lose the hat. To make things worse, the huge video screen behind him displays Bono’s lyrics as the frail frontman postures like a man half his age in front of them, showcasing his lack of writing talent in bold, illuminated words as he jiggles like a berk in front of them. Their big moment – and every Brit performance needs one, even though they usually fall further flat than a glass of cola left out overnight – is Bono taking off his spectacles to reveal an ageing idiot in eyeliner.

Greetings from our hosts! The three of them shuffle on with some dancers and they do the routine for Kylie’s 2001 single, Can’t Get You Out Of My Head. Corden is a fat man, but he done did dancing!

The use of such an old Kylie hit can be seen as either the provision an eight year vintage or an irrelevance from ages ago – you can make your own mind up on that.

The finishing posture leaves Kylie cradling the boys’ groins, in the first of many misguided sauce-based gags that unearth nowt but tumbleweed from the audience both at home and in the auditorium. Corden even feels the need to apologise for his first joke as he absorbs the silence that follows his every utterance.

Simon Pegg arrives, on his own (I thought they presented in pairs?) to announce Best Female and, in the event, Duffy beats Adele, MIA, Beth (who?) Rowley and that mardy-arse Estelle. You can feel the oxigen in the nation’s atmosphere lessen as the audience yawns collectively.

Next up, Best International Female goes to Katie Perry – a fact I enjoy because my other half hates her, causing me much amusement. She won a Brit and she liked it! She’s here even though she’s ill, she says. In fact, all she does is complain that she’s sick when she takes the podium, implying that she only turned up because her record company made her. That’s gratitude.

And then… Girls Aloud! Can it get any more miserable?

Yes!

The ladies essentially do a striptease to the song they did that sounds like the sort of tune ABBA might shit out whilst paralytic. Their clothes removal is sexy! (If you read Nuts and get turned on by the thought of a moronic, untalented dance troupe fronted by a Geordie automaton).

Suddenly The Brits goes weird. We’re, inexplicably backstage with Fearne Cotton who’s standing beside a caravan. I check my remote control, but no, I’m not jammed on ITV2 by mistake. What the hell’s going on?

Fearne asks us to vote for something or other and, breaking up the party vibe, reads out the Ts and Cs for the phone vote at length, before the ads come on. It’s like being accosted by a drunk accountant at the worst party in the world, dragged outside and then being subjected to her rattling off her month end breakdown. Even any slight semblance of a reckless, party atmosphere is dropped to the shits.

After the break, it’s back to the front desk, and I become confused by who’s presenting what, why and how? Horne and Corden are now doing the work, looking like ITV’s version of Shirl and ‘Evver off ‘stenders. The trio of Horne, Corden and Minogue keeps merging, resynthesising and redistributing. That fact alongside Fearne’s droned phone numbers leaves me dribbling with shellshock.

And then – Oh God. Here’s Alex bloody James to present Best British Breakthrough from a list including Adele, Scouting for Girls, Duffy, Ting Tings and The Last Shadow Puppets – and Duffy wins again, which feels, frankly, like a direct insult.

Coldplay then take the stage, dressed like disco revolutionaries in pink, lime and purple Spanish civil war outfits – which would be fine if they made new-sounding, vital pop like, say, MGMT or Empire of the Sun – but they don’t. They make watery, bland, executive bum. They’re about as revolutionary as Norman Tebbit. Their presence makes the list of appearances, winners and performers sound like it was discovered, discarded, scrawled on a soggy piece of cardboard and found in the middle of the road.

Back to the caravan! With Jamie Cullum and Jamie Oliver, both looking like they’re having a strand-off at the stupid haircut festival. To distract us from their wacky barnets, we hear more phone votes from Fearne. Halfway in to the two hours and literally nothing of any note has happened. Bring back Brandon Block! All is forgiven!

Here’s Natalie Imbruglia, who must have died since her Torn single came out in the nineties, as she staggers on looking like a reanimated corpse dug up from the grounds of a derelict botox farm. She’s here to announce British Male Solo Artist from a pick of James Morrison, Paul Weller, Ian Brown, Will Young and The Streets. Weller wins, and his acceptance speech is a video of Adele giggling.

We’re past halfway – and it’s time for a Duffy performance, or time for a kitchen break and tea-making, as I bypass the vapid motown-theft she passes off as music. As I return with an enormous cup of the brown stuff, Corden bellows a query:

ARE WE HAVING FUN PEOPLE?

More tumbleweed.

So – who will win Best International Album? Fleet Foxes, The Killers, MGMT, Kings of Leon or someone else I can’t remember?

Kings of Leon, in the event, and they take the stage resembling what you might imagine the Managing Directors of Beebo to look like. ‘If it weren’t for England we wouldn’t exist’, the singer says, forgetting he’s at the Brits. One in the eye for Duffy! Good lads.

Take That mime for a bit, handily wasting some time. The Robbie reunion thankfully remains an unfulfilled rumour and Nick Frost ambles on to present best live act. Nick Frost on his own. Without Simon Pegg. Who also presented on his own. Are we running low on guests?

Beating The Verve, Coldplay, Scouting For Girls and Elbow, Iron Maiden win this. A demonstration of people-power and only the hardest heart could begrudge them. Nicko McBrain still looks exactly like he did in the 80s. And they even wheel out Eddie, which probably confuses anyone under the age of 28.

Here comes David Hasslehoff to present something (I think Best British Band). Elbow beat Radiohead, Girls Aloud, Take That and Coldplay. Elbow – the band everyone’s too lazy to diss. I haven’t got anything against them, they just feel like a slow episode of Coronation Street set to 90s indie.

Then Kings of Leon play their big single with an ill-advised bass breakdown that makes the song sound like it’s going to shrivel up and die before Horne reappears to make his second Craig David joke of the night. We’re then on to the Critics Choice award which goes to indie types Florence and the Machine.

Florence and the Who?

Clear off!

Gok Wan wanders on smiling like a man possessed, waving and screeching ‘HIYA!’ like an oriental Wavey Davey. He presents the International Male gong which goes to Kanye West who, inevitably couldn’t make it to the evening and is filmed standing in a utility room in an anonymous building, looking sheepish.

And now for the real lowpoint. A modern mash-up of two of the year’s worst singles – Estelle and Ting Tings working to combine their awful songs in what is truly the most godawful dirge I’ve heard in years. The less about that, the better.

The end is in sight! It’s time for the best British Single and Alan Carr presents it to Girls Aloud for that ABBA-stealing pile of shit that accompanied their striptease earlier. ‘About time!’ screams the tall blonde one. ‘I wet meself!’ she continues, before being dragged off. And that’s as close as we get to controversy all night.

Tom Jones, looking like an overweight Rolf Harris, presents Best British Album and ruins the fact it’s bound to be Duffy, what with her also being from Wales and all. She gets her trio of meaningless statues and another Brit Awards gathers its crutches for the weary trudge to 2010. But first, the Pet Shop Boys Achievement award.

Hard to begrudge them their gong, but their stage show was such an unrelenting slaughter of flashing lights and dancing personnel, I had to read Twitter to work out what was going on. When Lady Gaga appeared to sing one line of a song dressed like a willow-patterned teapot, I thought I was hallucinating – compounded by the ostrich feathers on Brandon Flowers shoulders which made him look like a Flash Gordon birdman.

Roll credits!

Writing down every detail seemed like a good idea at the time. I hope reliving the experience with me hasn’t been too damaging for you – for me, at least, it was therapeutic.

Big Fat Quiz Of The Year: 2008

December 30, 2008

Another year, another Big Fat Quiz Of The Year. Previously, this was decent, low-grade Christmas TV fodder. You could even stand Jimmy Carr and his casual bigotry as the outing relied more heavily on the panelists, made up of, if memory serves:

  • A pre-Manuel-trouble Jonathan Ross, gamely trying to keep up with the cool kids and acting the giddy goat, managing to be funny for ten percent of the time.
  • A pre-Manuel-trouble Russell Brand, putting in a good spot in conjunction with partner in crime…
  • Noel Fielding. Noel Fielding is one of those annoying swines who personifies likability. Thus, anything with him in it is generally alright.
  • David Walliams – like Ross, trying a bit too hard, but keeping the thing afloat with enthusiasm and idiocy.
  • David Mitchell – always good quality, even when he’s in something shit.
  • Someone else I can’t remember. [update] It was the comedian and good egg, Rob Brydon.

This year, things went horribly, horribly wrong. Ross is on a forced holiday because he done a naughty on a phoneline. He couldn’t appear as a result, presumably. Brand was unavailable for similar reasons, in addition to promoting a proper career abroad. Mitchell must have been busy and Walliams is in America. Consequently, we were left with a real horrorshow. Barrels were scraped and dogshit scraped ceremoniously from shoes as Channel 4 booked, presumably whilst drunk:

  • Claudia Winkleman – that woman off Liquid News in the 90s who looks like a goth nine-year-old who’s being continuously tasered.
  • Dara O’Briain – a man who claims he’s a comedian but is actually just Irish. And, disgustingly, he can’t even spell his own name.
  • That posh man – who is infrequently funny on Have I Got News For You.
  • Sean Lock – a cracking comedian whose usually brilliant humour was sullied for the second time this year by that arsehole:
  • James Corden – why? Why, why, why? Why is this bastard even… even…. Why is he…

…I can’t be arsed.

  • Oh – and Davina Fucking McCall.

Need I go on? Does the resultant car crash even warrant description?

Does it buggery. Even the bit where the kids from a primary school do an amusingly amateurish and endearing take on an event from the preceding year fell flat, thanks to the berks on stage following the clip, hooting like gorillas and revelling in their own crap jokes. What a ruddy letdown.

Bafta Television Awards, 2008

April 21, 2008

Harry Hill

Sunday evening and time for some glitz and glamour. I stuck on my dinner jacket and dicky bow, turned out the lights, put out a few nibbles and took some notes on the proceedings, so we can all remember the highs of last night’s wonderful Bafta awards. What a night! What a show! What a collection of humorous acceptance speeches!

If I’m honest, I half-watched it whilst sitting in my pants and reading the paper.

Best actor
Andrew Garfield – Boy A
(Channel 4)

I didn’t watch Boy A when it went out. The only one I did watch of those nominated was Secret Life (the one about the paedophile with the elastic band). That was good and should’ve won, in the expert opinion of someone like me who couldn’t be arsed to watch all the others. The acceptance speech was a bumbling, heart-warming mess, and I wish the young bastard well.

Best actress
Eileen Atkins – Cranford
(BBC One)

Won by that woman out of Gosford Park. Again, I didn’t see Cranford. Was it any good? Was Atkins in Tenko? I think she was in Tenko.
Dame Dench was in the same thing, was nominated, but didn’t win it. Good. Give it to someone else for a change, Dench. Gina McKee should’ve won it, as she was the only one nominated who was in a programme I might actually have watched but can’t remember due to drunkenness (The Street). Plus, she was good in Brass Eye and Naked.

Best entertainment performance
Harry Hill – Harry Hill’s TV Burp
(ITV1)

Hooray! I like TV Burp. Even though – in my paranoid mind – he reads WWM and nicks some of our ideas, like Charlie Brooker and Sam Woolaston from the newspaper. Except they probably don’t.

In fact, I’d put money on the fact that they don’t.

Thank God JLC and Alan Carr didn’t win it. Amstell just missed out, which will at least give him material for his egocentric (but admittedly very amusing) gags on Never Mind The Buzzcocks.

Best comedy performance
James Corden – Gavin and Stacey
(BBC Three)

This was very strange. The bumbling chubbyman came onstage, all sweetness and light and made a lovely speech about his co-writer (her from Saxondale). He wrapped it up with ‘not funny, but true’. Emotive and nice, setting the scene perfectly for his fuck up later. I’ll get to that in a bit.

How he beat Merchant, Mitchell and Capaldi I’ll never know. I don’t watch Gavin & Stacey and from the nomination clips, I’m glad. Where the other three nominations all had clips demonstrating the quality of the comedy up for an award, Gavin & Stacey’s featured a fat man in some girls’ pants. Hmmm.

Best single drama
The Mark Of Cain
(Channel 4)

Didn’t see it. It was about war, wasn’t it? Good, good.

Also nominated were three other dramas I’ve not seen. Again – sorry.

Best drama serial
Britz
(Channel 4)

Didn’t see it. However, I now know that the main lady in it looks bloody lovely in a halter-neck frock. Apparently it was about suicide bombers and stuff.

I didn’t see any of the others and don’t know what they were about.

Best drama series
The Street
(BBC One)

I saw one of these. I definitely saw one of these. The one with David Thewlis acting as though he was a twin that had died, when he was really the twin that hadn’t died. I even reviewed it somewhere. It was good.

I didn’t see any of the Life on Mars business as John Simm makes me shudder, and I didn’t see the others, so clearly the right one won.

Best continuing drama
Holby City
(BBC One)

Napoleon’ll be happy, I thought to myself. Obviously Eastenders was robbed.

Best factual series
The Tower: A Tale of Two Cities
(BBC One)

Guess what? I didn’t see it. It looked very worthy and, if I’m honest, boring. Who wants to be bored? Not me. Should’ve featured zombies.

I’m just glad Merton being a berk in China didn’t win. And I’m even gladder that Meet The Natives didn’t win. The former because is was more about Merton than China, the latter because it was a wholesale rip off of something Donal MacIntyre did much better a few months before to little acclaim. Tribe should’ve won, because Bruce Parry is a real man. He drinks the blood of beasts and takes hallucinogens with mean men.

Best entertainment programme
Harry Hill’s TV Burp
(ITV1)

Hooray! A good choice, and Hill had the presence of mind to give us a few catchphrases rather than the faux-modesty and badly prepared gags everyone else attempted. He also beat Britain’s Got Talent and Strictly Come Dancing, the evil reality shows that give pieces of art like Britain’s Worst Teeth a bad name.

Have I Got News For You missed out but it won’t exactly hurt them given that it’ll run on and on until they’re all dead. And probably beyond, with David Mitchell and Russell Brand doing, respectively, Oxbridge intelligensia versus working class humorist.

Best situation comedy
Peep Show
(Channel 4)

Glad this won. The IT Crowd isn’t really my cup of milky tea and The Thick of It, despite excellent scipting/improvisation is an incredibly sneery piece of work. Benidorm remains unwatched, for me. I made the unqualified decision that it’d be rubbish before it started. Was I right? Anyone?

Best comedy programme
Fonejacker
(Channel 4)

Oh for Christ’s sake. Fonejacker is a tired concept. The Jerky Boys were doing this ten years ago.

Armstrong & Miller, Ponderland and Star Stories were all better.

Audience award
Gavin & Stacey
(BBC Three)

As mentioned before, I’m not bothered by Gavin & Stacey. Tucked away on BBC3, it’s off my radar like the Lily Allen show and Alexa Chung’s new vehicle ‘The Wall’. I know Corden and his skinny mate from their rubbish turn on Big Brother’s Big Mouth. Corden, arriving on stage, blurted ‘How can we win Best Comedy Performance and this, but not be eligible for Best Sitcom??’

Tumbleweed breezed through the studio. His co-writer (her out of Saxondale) told him off. Everyone went red. Even better – what was the next category? Best sitcom! ‘That’s unfortunate’, said Norton, helping to diffuse the tension.

The only point of interest all evening.

Best single documentary
Lie of the Land
(Channel 4)

Didn’t see it. It was about farmers or something.

Best feature
Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares
(Channel 4)

Oh for god’s sake. Don’t encourage the forehead-trenched, pigeon chested buffoon. We want him off our TVs, not on.

Best international show
Heroes
(BBC Two)

Not seen it. Looks rubbish. Was doing the crossword by now.

However, was amused by Alan ‘Jim Robinson’ Dale remarking that international seemed only to mean ‘American’. Good man.

Best specialist factual
Andrew Marr’s History of Modern Britain
(BBC Two)

Attempting 3 down.

Best current affairs
China’s Stolen Children – A Dispatches Special
(Channel 4)

7 across.

Best news coverage
Sky News – Glasgow Airport Attack
(Sky News)

Having a look at the Sudoku.

Best sport
ITV F1: Canadian Grand Prix Live
(ITV1)

Deciding Sudoku is too hard.

Best interactivity
Spooks Interactive
(BBC One)

Eh?

Long Service
Bruce Forsyth

Oh Christ… Bored and turning off.

*Click*