Posts Tagged ‘UK’

The Friday Question on Thursday: CSI WWM

April 9, 2009

Bubble The Wire BBC Police Baltimore

It’s taken a mere eight years for the BBC to cotton on to the idea of broadcasting The Greatest Television Show Ever Made©. Somebody over at Auntie got round to noticing the loud noises being made by fans and critics alike, and the result is The Wire is finally being shown on BBC2. Still, to make sure it’s not going to get too big for its boots now it’s rubbing shoulders with the big guns of British entertainment, it’s being shown after Newsnight at 11:20 – the TV equivalent of the naughty step. “You may be the Big I Am over on satellite,” the BBC seems to be saying, “but over here, you’ll wait your turn until after Paxman’s had his say.”

Let’s hope this idiotic scheduling decision won’t last past series one. After all, there’s a nice, juicy slot at 9:00 p.m. on Wednesdays that’s currently occupied by the thoroughly rancid Heroes.


Anyway. To celebrate the coming to terrestrial TV of that black fella, that other, drug-dealing black fella, that mixed race oriental lesbian one, that one in charge who looks like a corpse and him off of 300, WWM turns its beady stare on the seedier side of life.

We want to know if you, the thieving, murdering, looting, pillaging, car tax-evading, benefit frauding readers of this ‘ere Watch With Mothers, have ever committed a crime.

Did you bludgeon granny to death for her pension money? Is dad buried under the patio? Are you and your sister indulging in the love that dare not speak its name, Dave?

Or did you simply give a copper some lip and end up hammering drunkenly on the door of a police cell after being arrested on a public order charge? And then have to stump up an £80 fucking fine at Sheffield police station in order to avoid the matter ending up in court? The rat bastards. All I said was the fucker looked like he should be picking shit out of his anus behind a perspex screen in Twycross Zoo. This country’s being run by Nazis, it really is.

Anyway …

‘Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello, what’s all this then?

WWMers, it’s over to YOU …

The Friday Question – Soap Yourself

March 13, 2009

Buttercup Lane - image by BP Perry

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

The Friday Question: At Home On The Box

December 12, 2008

Last night, watching Eastenders (which is 100 times better than Coronation Street), I pretended I was an omniscient being floating from room to room and spying on the inhabitants of Albert Square like some spectre from the realm of reality. It was weird.

It got me to thinking, however. I began to ponder, which fictional TV world I’d move to if I was given the chance. Also – what kind of character would I be if I lived there… how would I fit in to the plot?

Would I move to the Chester of Hollyoaks, to be amongst the attractive 19 year old idiots? Would my part be that of a bungling shopkeeper?

Would I, perhaps, move to Wetherby so I could snooze my way through life in the 60s as the local drunk, occasionally receiving a harsh word from Nick Berry or whoever plays Heartbeat these days.

Would I move to the Baltimore portrayed in the Wire and be an overweight, cynical and obese cop with flatulence, an eating disorder and porn addiction?

It’s worth thinking about. For a bit.

So – which fictional word would YOU inhabit, and what character would you play?

NewsGush – R.I.P. Reg Varney

November 17, 2008

reg varney

I hated you, Butler.

Poor old Reg has sadly passed on to the great double decker in the sky. The world has lost a fantastic comedic talent and the first man to use a cash machine in the British Isles, according to someone on here.


The Friday Question: Sport on TV

August 7, 2008

You may have seen the hideous billboards carrying grossly magnified images of Wayne Rooney’s head, proclaiming that the season starts here. You may see the sports pages suddenly expanding in size to cover even more pointless speculation regarding whether some Villa player or other player – who probably earns more in a year than some of us will in our lifetime – might move to the north of England. And you might hate it.

On the other hand you might be shuddering with excitement at the prospect of football on TV again after a pretty barren Summer, what with the Englandless Euro 2008.

Did you love Wimbledon? Do you hate the screaming boy racers in F1? Can you spend hours, using up valuable holiday pay, watching men in white jumpers hitting a gigantic testicle with a stick?

Do you like Sport on the TV?

The Friday Question: Half Hour British Comedy

May 23, 2008


This great nation of ours used to be home to the best not-very-good sitcoms in the world. Recently, however, we’ve seemingly run out of just-about-watchable half hour comedy. They’ve all been replaced by reality shit, documentaries about babies with five foot long heads and clip shows.

So what’s the best rubbish sitcom from yesteryear? Which weakly written half hour British comedy has given you the most pleasure over the years?

Keeping Up Appearances?
The Good Life?
Last of the Neverending Summer Wine?

Have your say…

Loose Women

February 10, 2008

Loose Women

If I had my own TV show that appealed to and was watched by people like me it would be very different to the sort of fare that usually crops up. You see, I don’t read Nuts Magazine, or Loaded, or FHM, or any so-called Lads magazines. I also don’t particularly like football, nor do I covet fake titties or expensive sports cars… I am, in every way, a failure as a male – and so are, it would seem, most of the men I know. None of my friends are the sort of drooling imbeciles that men are typically presented to be in any demographically intended media.

Come to think of it, the women I know don’t fit into any of their stereotypes either. They’re real human beings, with a variety of interests and differing personalities that aren’t easily boxed or subjected to type…

Which is why I find ITV’s Loose Women so amazing. It seems to me that a show produced by, hosted by and directed at women would find a way to subvert typically presented female roles. I’m not suggesting that it would be an all-out feminist propaganda show, just that it wouldn’t pander to image obsession, snidey criticism and the usual tabloid fodder of gossip and idle speculation. Simply put, I thought it would aim to empower women, especially the sort of women who stay in during the daytime and watch television. Seems I was dead wrong.

This whole post comes from one moment on Loose Women last week when the ladies were talking about a story involving Pierce Brosnan’s wife, Keely Shaye Smith. The 44 year old mother of four had been paparazzied wearing a bikini and there had been all manner of unpleasant comments about her in the press. Pierce Brosnan had, has and continues to say he didn’t care as he loved the size of his wife and adored everything about her.

There’s more about it here and the crucial photo that was discussed on Loose Women is here.

So – question: how would a television show aimed at women handle this subject? Would they resort to the usual reaction and chide her for her size or would they take arms alongside her and defend her right as, a normal woman, to be whatever size she wanted? Lest we forget as well, this is the wife of James Bond, someone repeatedly voted as one of the world’s sexiest men, a wildly successful actor who has bedded, on screen, some of Hollywood’s most desirable women – and he has come forward to say how much he loves his wife, his non-celebrity, size 16, normal looking wife.

Surely, this would be an ideal opportunity to affirm the shapes, sizes and Gok Wan-endorsing fabulousness of every normal woman who has ever felt pressured by constant comparisons to the celebrity waif? Would this not be an ideal chance to say: “Hey – James Bond likes a woman this size – see, you don’t have to be size 0 to get a good man”?

If I were Jackie Brambles, I’d strike one for the sisterhood.

Actually, they did none of the above. They turned on Pierce Brosnan instead. You see, it was decided that while it was perfectly ok for Keely Shaye Smith to be fat and that it was terrible that she was subjected to such a mauling, Brosnan was probably lying when he said he liked the size of his wife. These gossiply little witches decided that any man who says he likes his women large was a liar. They sat in front an audience of their peers and told them that if you were a normal sized lady with a husband who loved you, he was lying to you to be nice.

The ring-leader was Colleen Nolan; a lady of impeccable esteem. After all, she was a former large girl who signed all the right contracts when the weight fell off, a lady of such moral high ground she’ll happily hawk frozen shit to mothers and who was dumped by Shane Ritchie (I mean – come on – Shane Ritchie, it’s like being best friends with Richard Digance).

It’s worrying to see how easily we turn on each other. This culture of body fascism and celebrity fanaticism has warped television to such a degree that libel statements go unchecked and personal attacks are commonplace. This may just be a little shitty ITV daytime show, but it represents an increasing assassination culture where anything less than the perfectly sellable image is punishable by public humiliation. This woman is the non-famous wife of an actor – she’s one of them, one of the audience, one of the hosts…

TV fails us again.

Arrange Me a Marriage

November 30, 2007

Aneela Rahman 

Stereotypes are great, aren’t they? It’s brilliant reducing a certain kind of individual down to a distorted essence, then getting a magnifying glass and making that essence seem like their entire being. Even better if you do it with a whole nation. Great stuff. Not offensive at all. Nice work BBC2.

I tell you what – on top of portraying the British as a bunch of pissed up idiots who only procreate when off their nuts, let’s also look at the culture of arranged marriages through some rose-tinted specs, ignoring the fact that it ends in complete disaster on occasion.

And so we turn to Arrange Me a Marriage, one of the most stupidly ignorant pieces of television ever commissioned.

Apparently, according to the Asian Gillian McKeith, Aneela Rahman, we Brits have got it wrong when it comes to courting. We go out and get pissed and end up with some slob/wench we’d never have even considered if we hadn’t had a few beverages. What a bunch of idiots we are. We have so much to learn, in fact, that Aneela is on hand to find some lonely, vulnerable middle class English boilers to give a proper going over.

Her remit is to set up a network of family and friends who will use their knowledge of the victim to select the ideal husband. It’s this search which makes up the bulk of the show, after about twenty minutes of Aneela blathering on about how arranged marriages are way better than anything Westerners have come up with. Which would be great, if she was right.

Last night, because the lady in question loved horses, the main point of contention in interview appeared to be whether or not the bloke was allergic to the horrible creatures. Call me old fashioned, but isn’t that a bit of a minor point? And apart from that one specific criteria, every other line of questioning was wishy-washy bullshit-nothingness. ‘He seems very nice’. ‘He’s very fit and athletic’. Blah blah blah. The show is doomed to failure and was from the voiceover at the beginning. The fact that the two didn’t get together at the end was the only satisfying thing about it.

It may not have worked, but apparently now Lynn’s family and friends are always actively matchmaking for her. Yes – matchmaking for dates is very much an Asian concept – we never do that in the UK, ever.

So what exactly has Aneela contributed? All she’s done is stopped Lynn’s family and friends from thinking of her as a hopeless case. She’s done nothing in terms of arranging a marriage. No marriage has been arranged. The families were boozing on champagne at the first meeting, which kind of backtracks on Aneela’s constant sniping at our drinking culture. The only nod to Asian culture was the fact that they wore flowered garlands round their necks while being introduced. The arrangement, inevitably wasn’t followed through. They weren’t coerced into going through with it. They were given a choice, which many young Asian men and women aren’t.

What’s next? Arrange Me An Honour-Killing?

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