New Year's Resolution #1

As always, I have a delightful list of resolutions, hopes and aims for 2009 whirring around in my little brainbox. These will no doubt be listed in forthcoming blogs, only to be ignored when it actually comes to the crunch, leaving life in 2009 pretty much as it has been for the last quarter-of-a-century. But let's start with the do-able, and save the nigh-on impossible - such as moving out and marrying TV's Bella Emberg - for later rambling entries.

So... Top of the list so far of things to achieve in 2009:

To have a slightly more enjoyable and sexy time in Florida than these two televisual icons. Which shouldn't be too hard.

Doctor Who Watch #11

The Next Doctor by RTD OBE

After the second-best Christmas Eve of my life; a Christmas Eve where I very, very nearly cried with actual joy, the pessimist in me knew it could only be downhill from there. Spending Christmas Day with the family (who I DO love, even if I give the opposite impression sometimes!) was never really going to compare to the previous night.

Family Christmas - It can be amazingly fun, or it can be amazingly banal. It just depends which way the wind is blowing. But brief respite from painting on a smile and pretending I'm not aching to escape for some relative-free solitude normally comes in the shape of Santa RTD OBE, with his always-enjoyable Doctor Who Christmas Specials.

I say "always enjoyable" - The Kylie Minogue one was pretty wank. But, conversely, the Catherine Tate one was the best thing about that Christmas. Presents and all. So it's swings and roundabouts.

But this year's offering from RTD OBE? It was if he'd wrapped up a box of Cadbury's Dairy Milk that he'd shat all over. Or bought me a Furby with its eyes gauged out, and smeared with a two-year old's blood. Or stuffed half a canister of Prussian Blue up the roast turkey's bumcrack, before weeing in the cranberry sauce and announcing that there is no Santa Claus and that my mother probably isn't my real mother.

It was THAT sort of Christmas treat.

I'm loathe to say anything is as bad as The Doctor's Cunting Daughter, but this was as near as damn it.

The scenes with David Morrissey and David Tennant were good. Emotional even. And Assumpta Fitzgerald put down her M&S delicacies to turn in a rather camp, enjoyable turn as chief villain.

But the shit-ness of the Cybermen... The way the Doctor beat one off (Oo-er!) with a sword... The stupid plot involving orphans and about ninety-five plot holes... The cringe-worthy BIG Cyberman stomping all over a rather poorly realised CGI London... The lack of Catherine Tate... It was just awful. A big, awful mess.

I tried to watch this episode again, just to make sure it hadn't been because I was tired that I hadn't enjoyed it. I got halfway through and just lost patience. There's only a few episodes that have ever made me do that: Love & Monsters, Fear Her and, oh, erm... Oh... What's that one again? The one with his daughter?!

A waste of my pissing time, and would have ruined Christmas for me... If the night before hadn't been so utterly wonderful.

Total Score: TWO out of TEN

(One point for the emotional stuff between the two Doctor's/David's and one point for that genius right hook from Rosalita!)

-

Postcard From A Windswept Beach

Stood here,
The edge of the world, dear.
Three wishes for you,
As the tide turns.

Salt water,
Meets with the skies, dear.
Meets with your eyes, my dear,
As the day dies.

Things... #1

THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME AS HAPPY AS WATCHING CATHERINE TATE IN DOCTOR WHO...

DALE WINTON'S HOLE

*Pause for comic effect* ... In The Wall - Best/Worst programme on TV right now.


NEW CLIENTS
There are several exciting new clients that we at Eggplant have managed to secure. I cannot name names, as some of our (much better) competitors may be reading this, so all I can say is that we have managed to take several thousand pounds from a popular government-run heathcare service, a popular department store that's not as popular as M&S and a popular chicken-based restaurant.


LIVE MUSIC-NESS
Tom McRae at the Borderline. Great venue. Smelt of Joss Sticks. (As opposed to Joss Stone, which - I have on good authority - is a rancid and vile smell, like mouldy yams).

Tom was fantastic, as always. But he does persist in performing the same songs. Which is fine when it is Silent Boulevard. I'd throw a bucket of my own carefully collected turd at him if he didn't sing Silent Boulevard. But it would be nice to hear some songs that he hasn't done before. Like his beautiful cover of Oh Yeah.

"There's a band playing on the radio..."

Or Sound Of The City. Or The Girl Who Falls Downstairs. Or Out Of This. Or... No, sorry. I'll stop. Anyway, 'tis but a minor quibble.

He was fantastic, as always. Brilliant. Silent Boulevard was a great finale, and Mr Daniel Of Glag seemed to have a good time, even when I threatened to get all teary at Got A Suitcase, Got Regrets. All in all, a most sexiful evening.

Also surprisingly good were - *whispers SO fucking quietly* - The Brothers Jonas. No prizes for guessing why I went along to see them. There aren't many reasons I'd subject myself to a night locked in a building with thousands of screaming pre-pubescent girls behaving like whores; wittering on about which Jonas they want to sit on first. Ignoring the fact that The Jonas Brothers are pure and chaste and don't actually know what sex is.

I felt ever-so-slightly out of place. Luckily, sat next to me was an old man and his wife. No kids though. Naturally I took them to be nonces on the prowl for some fresh prey. The atmosphere and surroundings were like something out of my worst nightmare... But The Brothers Jonas themselves were actually REALLY good. A lot rockier live.

And they did a blinding cover of Fix You. (Which, bizarrely, all the ten year old girls knew word for word). Turned out to be quite a good night, although I think the twelve Smirnoff Ice's myself and Matt downed first probably helped.


RANDOM DAYS AND NIGHTS
Myself and Matt went to Spain to stay with Sussy for a few days. Sun, Sea, Sand and S... wimming! REALLY enjoyed it, and LOVED the Spanish measures of Malibu. They were almost as generous as Mipsy Measures. We were probably a little bit drunken 95% of the time. But not as much as the lovely Dutch Beppe, who politely informed us that everytime she talks, she needs to piss.

Pretty.

And she also "LOVES THE GAYS!"

In addition to this, we took a trip to Brighton (with ridiculously scary end-of-pier rides and £30 spent on winning an Alan GreenToad!) AND Alton Towers, where we were attacked by Zombies and found ourselves in the corner of an abandoned farmhouse, cuddling people we'd never met before because we were so scared. That was a random day.


SPOOKS
Spooks returning to BBC1 this Monday.


THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME AS SAD AS WATCHING SHIT MARTHA IN DOCTOR WHO...


SPOOKS
Spooks returning to BBC1 this Monday without The Lovely Ruth Evershed. Boo!

The gorgeous Peter Firth (who has a massive one) and Sexy Old Bird Connie are still there, being magnificent, but it's really hard for me to care about any of the characters now. Sexy Zaf was killed off, and that upset me (he was stunning) but I miss Ruth.

I still remember Peter Firth (who has a massive one) telling Philip and Fern that she would be back in Series Six. And I waited. And waited. And waited. And still nothing. Not even a passing mention. I miss her. I loved her. Bring her back, BBC. The campaign starts here. Maybe.

-

I'm Yours

I won't hesitate,

No more, no more,

It cannot wait,

I'm sure.

There's no need to complicate,

Our time is short,

This is our fate,

I'm yours.

Doctor Who Watch #10

Episode Twelve/Thirteen – The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End by RTD OBE

Well, that was a little bit epic, wasn’t it? Series Four has been such a varied one, with episodes of psychological terror (Midnight), a murder mystery (The Unicorn & The Wasp), an episode tackling head-on the Doctor’s part in death and destruction (The Fires Of Pompeii), episodes using time travel to tell the most poignant love stories (Silence In The Library) and an episode that was complete and utter wank (Oh, you’ve been reading these things long enough to know which one I mean!)... After all that variety, it’s good to see that Doctor Who can still bash out a gloriously fun romp. Two hours of riotous, sci-fi fun, rattling along faster than the speed of light.

But I’m buggered if I have any idea what the hell it was all about!

A lot of the sci-fi was lost on me. The Shadow Proclamation, Extrapolator Shielding, The Medusa Cascade being a second out of sync with everything else, the regeneration/non-regeneration, those twelfty-ninety-seven planets that made ‘an engine’ (for what?!), the Reality Bomb, the pointless (but most-hilarious) disintegration of Gita from EastEnders (what was it a rehearsal for?), the stars going out (but before Davros had started the Reality Bomb?) and the whole human/Time Lord/DoctorDonna thing (barmy, surely?!)

It all seemed a lot to take in, and each time I watch these episodes (LOVE iPlayer!), I understand a little bit more about what the Daleks' main aim was, and exactly what the piss was going on. But then I don’t really watch Doctor Who for that. I watch it for the human element; the heart; the emotions we all face, being played out in amongst all the intergalactic hoo-ha.

And that side of things didn’t disappoint. How sexy was it to see Harriet Jones back?! She’s the former Prime Minister, you know! But how heartbreaking was her inevitable death? You question her actions at the end of The Christmas Invasion, and somehow lose a bit of respect for her. But this episode makes a hero of her, which is what Harriet Jones should have always been. Dame Penelope Wilton was fantastic as ever, and her death – and final words – gave me a most prominent lump in my throat.

The return of Martha – and her ridiculously uptight mother – was a waste of everyone’s time. And the ‘Earth’s Gone’ key (for that is an anagram of Osterhagen) was just plain stupid. Why is it Martha always flounces off on her own to partake in a rather dull sub-plot? It happened in the last season finale, it happened in this one, it happened in *spits* The Doctor’s Shit Daughter... I’m hoping this is the last we see of this once-promising, now-irritating companion.

The one good thing about the whole Martha/Osterhagen Key fiasco was that it allowed RTD OBE to make a great point about the Doctor. With her ready to destroy the Earth, and with Sarah Jane (the ever-brilliant Miss Sladen) and Captain John Barrowman ready to explode the Dalek Crucible, it was actually quite a shocking moment when we're forced to question: How different is he from Davros? Davros’ speech, David Tennant’s ‘haunted’ realisation that this is what he has created, and the flashback to all those that have been ‘turned into weapons’ by The Doctor, sent shivers down my spine. Was an absolute touch of genius, and really thought-provoking – One of the stand-out moments of the series.

Julian Bleach was excellent as Davros, who looked a most pretty sight, and I really hope he makes a return in 2010. Maybe with a plot more focused on him than on the abundance of returning characters – He needs a lot more screen time in future, as I don’t think we spent enough time focusing on this mad genius. And someone give Dalek Caan his own show! LOVED that crazy gelatinous freak!

Nice to see Ianto Jones make his Doctor Who debut. We like Ianto Jones. And the scene where he is watching Paul O’Grady made me do a nice, big laugh. Yes, more Ianto Jones, please.

It just felt too busy; too many characters; too much sci-fi; too many ideas and not enough time to do them justice. I got the feeling that Mickey and Jackie were brought back purely for backstage reasons (RTD OBE’s last series, Phil Collinson’s last episode, etc...) rather than to add to their story. Great fun when Jackie said she’d named her baby Doctor, though.

And as for bringing Rose back... If it had been the same Rose we cried buckets over when she said goodbye in Doomsday, then all would have been good and I would have been more than happy to see her again. Instead, she seemed to be this lisping (Oh, GOD, the LISP!!) posh bitch without the sense of fun that she used to have. It got the headlines, and it got people watching, and the random glimpses throughout the series built towards a fantastic reunion. Yet her part of the story just seemed a bit underwhelming.

But for two scenes.

Rose and The Doctor running towards each other was such a lovely, heartwarming moment. Ruined slightly by The Doctor getting shot by a Dalek and starting to regenerate in, what has to be, the finest cliffhanger moment in anything, ever.

And then, obviously, the scene on Bad Wolf Bay. If you’re going to bring back Rose, you can’t have her saying goodbye to the Doctor again. So she didn’t. She essentially got what she wanted. A relationship with the love of her life, or a version of him at least. A version of him that isn’t afraid to say, on a beach in Norway, ‘Rose Tyler, I love you’. The perfect end to her story.

Which is more than could be said for Donna’s ending. I suppose I got my wish. She didn’t die. Yet, what happened to her seems so much crueller. With her head ready to explode with all her newly-acquired Time Lord knowledge, The Doctor had to wipe her memories. She’s gone back to the gobby temp from Chiswick with absolutely no recollection of the Ood, of Pompeii, of Agatha Christie, of the fact that she was the most important woman in the whole of creation. She will never make anything of her life now, because she has no recollection of just what her full potential is. No recollection of how amazing she can be, or of the man who helped her realise it.

The scene in the TARDIS as her mind is about to be wiped had me in floods of tears. I mean, floods. I’m welling up now just thinking about it. The fear in her eyes as she can’t stop repeating ‘Binary’ got me going, but then the flashback of all the things she’s seen and done, and her heartbreaking:

“I was going to be with you forever. The rest of my life, travelling in the TARDIS”

And his response:

“We had the best of times”

And Murray Gold’s beautiful score. Oh, it was all just too much for me. I blubbed and blubbed. It was the best five minutes of the series, and yet somehow the worst. No more Donna. She’s gone. And it just felt so cruel.

Catherine Tate was outstanding, and deserves every award going for her portrayal of Donna. I have never loved a television character quite so much. I know it’s not real, and I know it’s just a television programme, but I am genuinely heartbroken that her time is over.

“We had the best of times”

Total Score: TEN out of TEN (mainly for Donna’s last moments!)

Doctor Who Watch #9

Episode Eleven: Turn Left by RTD OBE

Last week – or whenever the piss I actually wrote the review of Midnight, it seems like forever ago – I bemoaned the lack of Donna in the episode. Yet here we have an episode with a complete lack of Doctor. Doctor Who without the Doctor. And I loved it!

Maybe this means I secretly want Catherine Tate to be Doctor Number Eleven?!

In terms of previous Doctor-lite episodes, it doesn’t even begin to compare to Blink. But then Blink is in a league of its own. It does, however, shit all over The Long Game (with Bruno Langley brought in purely so the Doctor wouldn’t be on screen as much) and Love & Monsters. For a start, neither of those two starred the wonderous Bernard Cribbins. And neither of them had a particularly throught-provoking plot. Unlike this one.

After all the hints and teasers, this was the episode where we finally discovered what was on Donna’s back. A shoddily made beetle, it turns out. (Probably my only criticism of the episode – surely they could have made something slightly more non-crap!)

Shit Beetle seemed to feast off changing the past; causing people to turn one way instead of the other. So we found Donna living the life she would have led if she had never met the Doctor. The life she would have led if she’d never joined HC Clements and been attacked by the cunt-like Sarah Parish masquerading as a giant red spider with speech and saliva problems.

If Donna had not met the Doctor, he would have died – along with Sarah Jane, Torchwood, Martha and countless millions of other people. Although death and destruction stalks the Doctor wherever he goes (he caused the eruption of Pompeii, lest we forget) this episode reminds you that he brings life as well; this episode shows just how many people would have perished without him there to save them.

“If the Doctor had never come here, on a whim, tell me, would anyone here have died?”

You often wonder, much like that bird from Spaced did in the quote above, whether the Doctor is cause or cure. If he had just sat in the TARDIS reading Slutty Asian Whore-Bags and twisting his balls instead of interfering, would there have been less death; less pain; less devastation? This episode is an answer to that. We need the Doctor, and don’t forget it.

It makes a major point about the Doctor, without him actually appearing. That’s why it works as a Doctor-lite episode in a way that Love & Monsters didn’t; because the Doctor, despite not appearing on screen, still feels ever-present. It still feels like he is the most important character in the episode, rather than – with L&M – being sidelined by the increasingly smug and annoying Peter Kay.

Everyone has their own ‘Turn Left’ moment, which adds a nice dimension to it. What if...?

Always the sort of question a great episode will have you asking. What if I had turned left? What if I had got a different job, met different people, not met the most important man in my life...? What if? Already a little emotional after dwelling (briefly, maybe, during a slow bit) about my own ‘Turn Left’ moment, the episode twatted me round the face with several more emotional punches. Mussolini, as Donna calls him, being carted off to the concentration camps, and Wilf’s reaction to this, was terribly moving.

“It’s happening again.”

And Donna’s utter fear as she stands in The Circle Of Mirrors was equally upsetting. RTD OBE says this is one of his favourite performances from anyone, ever. And I find it hard to disagree. Catherine Tate is just brilliant. But even more heartbreaking is her second time in The Circle, when she is so full of hope, thinking she has worked out what is going on, only to be told that she is still destined to die. I was obviously more than a little teary by this point.

And when she steps out into the path of a moving lorry, I actually stopped breathing for a while. If anyone still thinks Catherine Tate was the wrong choice of companion for this series, they can fuck off and die. She has MADE this series, and this episode is one of my favourites. Ever.

Total Score: TEN out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #8

Episode Ten – Midnight by RTD OBE

Tricky one, this. Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed as bad if it had followed the episode starring a certain offspring of the Doctor. But it was following a Moffat two-parter. The same Moffat two-parter that I orgasmed over in my blog last week. But follow Forest Of The Dead it did. And it was all the worse for it. How could anything compare to the Moffat episodes? Especially something that was clearly just RTD OBE pissing around; experimenting; going off-piste; making something that doesn’t really fit with Doctor Who just because he wants to ‘try it’ as a writer. The last time that happened, we got Peter Kay in a green fat suit, being a twat and ruining 45 minute of my life.

This was better. Midnight WAS better. It just didn’t… I don’t know. It just left me kind of questioning exactly what the point was.

There were a lot of things to recommend it.

The cast were uniformly brilliant. In any episode, there are normally one or two performances that let the whole side down. Steve Pemberton being a prime example. But everyone was perfect here. Notably the gorgeous Colin Morgan and Lindsey Coulson, with the latter already starting at a distinct disadvantage as her appearance in Bill-spin-off MIT made me sick. But here, she was outstanding as the cunt of the piece.

Lesley Sharp – she of the pretty nose – was an absolute genius for managing to cope with “the hardest thing I’ve ever asked an actor to do” (according to RTD OBE) and her general air of creepiness (coupled with ‘the nose’) was one of the best things about this episode. She just oozed menace. David Tennant – who I rarely single out for praise in these blogs, purely because he’s not Christopher Eccleston – was great. Overly cocky, then totally helpless as he becomes a victim of his own bragging. His face as the others tried to drag him out showed absolute, unequivocal terror. (Reminded me of when Eccleston first came face to face with a Dalek in… erm… Dalek. Maybe that’s why I’m praising Tennant today? Because he came close to aping Eccleston?)

The idea was a good one. I particularly enjoyed the fact that you never discover exactly WHAT had taken over the lovely Ms Sharp (and her nose). It’s spookier that way. Leaves plenty to the imagination.

The distinct lack of Catherine Tate ruined the episode a little bit for me. It was a worrying glimpse into what the future of Doctor Who – after Donna is no longer around – will be like. She is the BEST thing about this new series, and taking her out of the equation was a total disaster. I missed her. I missed her banter with the Doctor, her one-liners, her all-round brilliance… I’m fully aware the story wouldn’t have worked with her there. The whole point was the Doctor being powerless, with no one on his side. But still, RTD… You could have given her a sub-plot.

The ending, however, was the thing that annoyed me the most. This selfish, rule-abiding, trolley-dolly non-character – despite displaying nothing but obnoxiousness through the whole episode – sacrifices herself to save the others. What?! There was NO reason for her to suddenly play the hero. She’d been in the background of the whole episode, doing nothing but being dull and pointless. And then she volunteers for death?! Where did THAT come from?!

It takes an awful lot of bravery and guts and conviction and an absolute, unfaltering belief in what you’re doing is for the greater good to sacrifice yourself like that… She had displayed none of those characteristics in the whole pissing episode! It just seemed like a convenience; an easy way to wrap up an episode, instead of the RIGHT way. A great set-up and a great let down. Not vile enough for me to lump it in with Love & Monsters and The Doctor’s Shit Whore Daughter under the ‘FUCKING AWFUL’ banner. It was extremely watchable. But nothing more, nothing less.

Total Score: SIX out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #7

Episode Eight/Nine: Silence In The Library/Forest Of The Dead by the God-like Steven Moffat

What an unbelievable pile of shit.

No. Not really. Obviously. It was bloody genius, wasn’t it? How can this man get it SO right with every episode? Now, Mr RTD OBE is great, and has written some wonderful episodes – Boom Town and Doomsday immediately spring to mind. But he’s also been responsible for some rather less sexy pieces – Love & Monsters, that Slitheen two-parter… As much as I love Mr RTD OBE for making Doctor Who the success it is, I cannot wait until 2010, when The Moff takes over as Head Honcho. A whole series from the creative genius that gave us “Are You My Mummy?” and those fabulously macabre Weeping Angels. AND the heartbreakingly perfect Girl In The Fireplace episode. I’m moist just thinking about it. And as long as the Doctor’s Shit Daughter isn’t the new assistant, I’m sure Series Five will be the bestest-est-est ever.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Opening with Colin Salmon’s rich, Barry-White-meets-Richard-Hillman-eque voice, you’re instantly drawn into this story. You instantly know there is something suspect about him. You don’t hire Colin Salmon just to play your every day therapist. Although any tension his character creates is instantly undermined by his name. Doctor Moon. For some reason, this made me giggle. Moon? Bum? Bare backsides being waved out of cars? Mooning? No? Just me? Just me picturing a Doctor with a bum for a head? Yes. Well. Moving on…Doctor Moon. Great name. And Colin Salmon was great as this ambiguous (he turned out to be the good guy, right?!) and peculiar character (for he also turned out to be McAfee Security Center in human form).

In fact, almost every aspect of this two-parter was great. From the Nodes, to the brilliant idea of the Doctor meeting someone from his future that he hasn’t yet encountered. From ‘Proper Dave’ and ‘Other Dave’ (utterly pointless, yet wonderful detail!) right down to Moll Flanders’ unfeasibly big hair. All of it genius.

And spoilers… I mean, who wouldn’t have been tempted to look in Moll Flanders’ diary. Would you like to know your own future? Would you? It’s a major question to tackle. There was so much going on, but every idea, every concept was given just the right amount of screen time. Not too much as to over-egg the point. You went away still thinking about it because not everything was black-and-white. And the best thing is that even now, I’m still thinking about it. Would I have looked in that diary? Would I want to know?

One or two criticisms though.

“Hey, Who Turned Out The Lights?” – It worked for “Are You My Mummy?” but it felt a bit too repetitive this time. A bit like Moffat re-using the idea because it worked so well the first time.

Seemingly killing Donna at the end of the first part… What the fuck are you trying to do to me?! I was beside myself with worry for a whole week, waiting for some kind of get-out clause that made her a bit less dead.

Steve Pemberton. In an episode that immerses you in darkness and shadows and fear and down-right creepiness, to suddenly have him turn round and say “Well, you haven’t signed your release form” in his Pauline from the League Of Gentleman voice… It just totally shatters the illusion. Totally breaks any hold the scene has on you as a viewer. I was just waiting for him to bellow out ‘Hokey Cokey Pig In A Pokey’ or start frigging himself over a biro.

But these were minor quibbles. How churlish of me to even bring them up when everything else in this episode was just so amazing.

Miss Evangelista’s death – and ‘ghosting’ – was particularly poignant.

“Don’t tell the others – they’ll only laugh”

Such tragic last words, made even more upsetting by the fact that ‘the others’ all have to listen to this over and over again, and face up to the fact that they made her feel like crap when she was alive. And Donna’s evident anguish at trying to comfort someone who is – to all intents and purposes – already dead, is totally tear-jerking. I certainly got a bit wet around the tear-ducts.

That’s what I love about Doctor Who. The theme of loss. In amongst all the running and the aliens and the time-travel, it’s the human aspects that I truly love. The goodbyes, the heartbreak, the feelings that we all have to deal with everyday, being played out with brutal honesty in between battles with killer pepperpots and tentacle-faced brain-holders. It’s ridiculous. Doctor Who is as far removed from reality as you can get, yet it feels SO real.

It may be a kids’ show. It may be a kids’ science fiction show. But it can explore love and loss even better than adult dramas, sometimes. I’ve certainly never been affected by a drama in quite the same way as Doctor Who.

And these two episodes were some of the most affecting since the series began.

The whole ‘dream life’ of Donna was hilarious at times (“Oh, you’ve got a little stammer there” and “But I’ve been dieting!” being particular favourites), yet it was also terribly upsetting. Catherine Tate was amazing as her whole life unravelled before her eyes. The husband, her children… All gone.

Moll Flanders’ final farewell... GOD, that was so sad as well. (Am I just a cry-baby? Is this stuff actually moving, or am I just a fucking pansy?!) Here she was, saying goodbye to a man she had clearly loved for a long time, yet for him, he had only just met her. He had no idea who she was. The beginning of his relationship with her was the end of her relationship with him. Such a beautiful idea, wonderfully realised. Her goodbye speech, as she sacrificed herself, made me sob like a little baby.

And there was that frankly, horrible moment where Donna leaves the room just as her ‘husband’ tries to call after her. How different things would have been if she’d noticed him. That’s the tragedy of it all. If she’d only turned round at that split-second, maybe she would have been happy. Maybe her life would have been different, and maybe the fate that awaits her in the coming weeks could have been avoided…

Total Score: TEN out of TEN

Two Nights Of Magic

The one thing about having such a vast back-catalogue of genius songs is that you always come away from a Bruce Springsteen gig wishing he’d sung other songs. I wanted to hear I Wish I Were Blind, which has become a new favourite of mine. Or Paradise. Or Streets Of Philadelphia. Or The River. Or anything that didn’t have the words ‘Girls’ and ‘Summer Clothes’ in. I was disappointed on both counts.

But let’s begin at the beginning. Two Bruce Springsteen concerts at Arsenal Emirates Stadium. Last weekend.


Friday 30th May
Years ago, myself and Jon camped out for two nights at Wembley Arena (during storms which killed several people) to get to the front row of a Bruce Springsteen gig. It was worth it. We were at the front, within licking distance of The Boss, and he was fucking awesome. But I’m old and weary now, and the thought of another two nights in a sleeping bag, making small talk with odd foreigners and Thieving Welsh Bastards (John and Carol – We’d like our programmes back, please) and having to walk to the nearest McDonald’s for a wash of the ol’ coin purse didn’t seem to appeal.

So we turned up at lunchtime on the day of the gig and started queuing, alongside a collection of randoms and inbreds. Particular shout-outs go to Ice Queen In Leather Jacket Who Managed To Push In Front Of Us and Whore With Beardy Boyfriend and Fragile Indian Woman Suffering Much Inner-Turmoil… Bless you all. I’d like to say that mocking you in my own head passed the time nicely. But it didn’t. The queuing lasted for hours and hours and hours and hours. And hours.

And hours.

And then came Bruce. Bruce was my first (music-related) love. The first artist I’ve ever obsessed about. He reminds me of a huge period of my life; the soundtrack to some of the most important events in the history of Jay Bollock. But as with many relationships, it went a bit stale (around about the Devils & Dust period) and I went on to find someone shiny and new to fall for. Someone ‘better’. So I haven’t listened to Bruce much in the past few years. Too busy being in love with Tom McRae, and enjoying brief dalliances with No Angels, The New Pornographers, Shiny Toy Guns and… erm… Minnie Driver.

But you never forget your first love.

And the moment he stepped up on stage, it all came flooding back. The feelings, the memories. THAT feeling of your first love, standing right there in front of you, and it’s like the past five years haven’t happened. Like you never moved on at all. And you find yourself wondering how on earth you ever thought it was possible to replace that love with another.

Of course, I would have been even more pleased to see my first love if he hadn’t opened the show with Tenth Avenue Freeze Out.

He’s played that song at EVERY show I’ve been to! Give me I Wish I Were Blind, you little sod!

The venue was amazing, and a huge improvement on Shit Crystal Palace, to give it its full name. And Bruce owned it; he owned this venue.

Shaking hands with the crowd, posing for photographs on front row mobile phones, skipping merrily up and down the various walkways, picking out requests on huge placards and putting them in his “file” for later on in the show… “Oh, that’s a good one. That’s a good one, I’ll have that. Oh, we don’t know how to play that one. That one’s too hard.”
(He played Point Blank as a request, which has always been a favourite of mine, and was a joy to hear. And Cadillac Ranch, which is always fun)

Every trick in the book was used to whip up excitement, including the old favourite of sliding across the stage on his knees. Except it didn’t feel like a trick; it felt spontaneous and natural. Like a man in his element, having fun. And hey, if the audience like it too, then that’s just a bonus.

Highlights for me included the fact that he played my four favourite songs: The Rising, Born To Run, Dancing In The Dark and Thunder Road.

God, when he started Thunder Road, a shiver went all the way down me and I felt I was going to explode. Explode with what, I don’t know. Tears, joy, sex-wee…? All three? I could feel my eyes welling up. I love that feeling. That is why I spend hours and hours queuing. THAT feeling.

And Born To Run, obviously, went down and absolute storm. It was just the best encore ever. If only he’d left out American Land. Or maybe replaced it with I Wish I Were Blind?!


Saturday 31st May

Yeah… So, I didn’t really want to go back for the second gig. All that queuing, and standing, and singing, and jumping, and travelling had wiped me out. (Journey home on the Friday night was the worst journey I’ve had since the journey back from Blackpool, via Belchy and Nottinghamshirenessland)

Bruce was amazing on Friday, but I was tired and wanted my bed, and just couldn’t face the thought of another day spent queuing. But we had tickets, and there was always the chance that Bruce would change the setlist and sing a different selection of genius songs. So we returned to Arsenal again…Luckily the time passed a lot quicker – maybe it was the fact I was constantly eating that helped to while away the hours – and before I knew it, we were in the Stadium.

Because we’d been the night before, we were less concerned about getting close to the stage. So we positioned ourselves against the back of The Pit, so we had a pretty barrier to lean on. Perfect for my aching, weary, old-man body.

Unfortunately, the back of The Pit seemed to attract a whole host of dickheads. There was the Oxbridge Tit In His Tweed Blazer, Dancing With His Ugly Girlfriend In The Same Way That You Might Swing A Dead Cat Around. That’s his name. Check his birth certificate, that’s what it says. And if birth certificates listed hobbies and interests, his would say: “Invading people’s personal space with my fucking stupid dancing”.

I hated him. I hope he dies.

Elsewhere, we had Vernon. Well, that might not be his name. But I feel it suits him. Vernon. A cross between Gollum and the piss-sodden tramp who likes to yell 'CUNT' at old ladies on the bus from Bromley every morning. Bouncing around like a partially-crippled Tigger, conducting everyone in having a good time. As if he needed to encourage enthusiasm for Bruce from the already delirious crowd. A fascinating little creature, fuelled by a clear passion for Stella Artois. If I hadn’t been trying to enjoy a Springsteen concert, I could have watched the little fucktard all day.

There was also a group of alcohol-soaked cave-dwellers who took to throwing each other up in the air during the climax of any given song. And growling every time someone came close to beer glasses they were collecting in the middle of the floor. Thugs, the lot of them. And Chief Cave-Dwelling Thug obviously had an unhealthy obsession with the song Jersey Girl, as he kept yelling it out at Bruce, no doubt expecting Bruce to say:

“Oh, hark… Hear how those dulcet tones politely request a song from my back-catalogue. He has asked so nicely that we simply must play it for him".

Fifty-three times Chief Cave-Dwelling Thug shouted out ‘Jersey Girl’ at Bruce. Mainly during the quiet songs, or softer moments.

Bruce paid tribute to Danny Federici, the E-Street Band member who died of cancer in April. It was a poignant and moving tribute.

And halfway through…“JERSEY GIRL!!!”

There’s a time and a place to yell out a request. That very much was not it. What a colossal berk.

Other than these slight distractions, it was another good show by Bruce. I’m On Fire and Long Walk Home being particular favourites. The songs from his last album, Magic, work really well live. Even Girls In Their Summer Clothes. At a push.

The setlist, and the atmosphere, on the second night was a bit of a letdown. To be honest, I could have done without seeing him the second night. Not only would it have saved a bit of money, but it would have saved my poor, numb bot-bot from another day of queuing. But it was Bruce. And he was my first love. And sometimes, it’s just nice to take a walk down memory lane…

I Wish I Were Blind

The music plays, you take his hand,

I watch how you touch him as you start to dance,

And I wish I were blind,

When I see you with your man.


That is all.

Doctor Who Watch #6

Episode Seven: The Unicorn And The Wasp by Gareth 'Beardy Genius' Roberts

Episode Six nearly ruined my love for Doctor Who. Episode Six nearly made me want to give up television as a whole. And my eyesight.

After that heinous mess, they were going to have to wheel out something pretty special to make it up to me. Episode Seven was indeed something pretty special. Episode Seven was, in fact, one of the finest episodes ever committed to screen. The most enjoyable 45 minutes I've had in recent memory. (With my penis still in my pants, anyway)

A genuine murder-mystery, shot in the style of a murder-mystery... Like Poirot, with added Giant Wasp. A wonderful play on the whole 'Whodunnit' thing, but without making it too much of a spoof; without making it too knowing; without too much looking-at-the-camera-and-winking.

Loved the fact that it wasn't the Butler wot dunnit. Father Golightly was eventually unmasked as the giant wasp. I hate wasps. Well, I'm ALLERGIC to them, actually. Couldn't they have made it a nice butterfly or something?!

It was a genuinely intriguing mystery, with Agatha Christie's real-life disappearance nicely woven into the tale. It was also hilarious. Genuinely laugh-out-loud hilarious. I particularly enjoyed this exchange...

Rosemary And/Or Thyme: Lady Bummington-BumBum had her pearls stolen from right under her nose.
Donna: Funny place to wear pearls.

Ah, Donna... How I love thee. How can anyone possibly be excited by the return of Rose when we already have a companion so brilliant, so funny, so three-dimensional, so human, so perfect as Miss Noble?

She spent the whole of this episode, as always, stealing every scene she was in. Including my favourite EVER scene from Doctor Who. The wonderfully comic poisoning of the Doctor, where she just couldn't work out what the Doctor needed to devour in order to stop the poison taking effect.

"Harvey Wallbanger?!"
"A song?!"

I love her. While some of the episodes have been a bit smelly (Partners In Crime) and some of them have outright STUNK (Doctor's Shit Daughter - as if I needed to make that clear), the one thing that has made this series my favourite so far has been the sheer wonderfulness of Catherine Tate. Long may she reign.

Total Score: TEN out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #5

Episode Six: The Doctor's Daughter by Some Useless Cunt

Oh, it's a short review this week. Not because I'm feeling lazy (Honest!) but because I cannot think of anything to say about this episode other than the following:

UTTER TRIPE.

It could have been one of the best episodes ever. It certainly has one of the best (and most ingriguing) titles ever. I was expecting something along the lines of Dalek - a powerful, landmark episode, introducing newer audiences to some of the folklore of 'classic' Doctor Who.

What we got instead was an utter embarrassment.

Martha - Seriously, what was she for? Why not just send her home at the end of the last episode if all you were going to use her for was as part of Doctor Who's worst-ever death scenes?

The Hath - What? Seriously, WHAT?! The most awful design ever. And I'm including the chocolate fireplace. And hoovers without balls on which to pivot, as James Dyson suggests. An awful, horrible, embarrassing design.

That Whole Numbers Thing - For such a big build-up, the reveal was a bigger letdown than me in bed. What the fuck was the point?

Jenny - YAWN! Can't shake the feeling that she's destined to be the New Assistant at some point. It's at that point I will stop watching. I wish when they'd shot her, she had actually died. In real life. And while we're on that... How did she come back to life exactly? She surely didn't regenerate, because she looked the bloody same? Very confusing, but I really don't care enough to worry about it...

The stuff with the Doctor, Donna and Jenny - all trying to come to terms with the fact that he was a father - was very good. But there was nowhere near enough of it. If it had been a Boom Town episode - the three of them sat round debating morals and actually engaging in proper conversation - it could have been amazing. Shoved next to a ridiculous plot about a ridiculous war between ridiculous characters... It's the quite possibly the worst episode I've ever seen. Not just of Doctor Who, but of ANYTHING.

Total Score: ONE out of TEN

How Far We've Come

When Kirbymoreside first passed her driving test, we went everywhere together. Pretty much every weekend, Kirsty and my good shelf would bundle into her car (Percy) and drive around. Usually to the beautiful countryside village of Ainsford, for a mess around by the stream and a small beverage in The Plough. (I like to live my life as if I'm in an episode of Last Of The Summer Wine).

Sometimes we'd head to the coast for days of nearly drowning and nearly getting kidnapped by coffee-carrying kiddie-fiddlers. "Would you like to come back to mine to dry off?" Erm… Probably not so much, thanks. I could have been the new Maddie.

Other times we'd just head to the Wilson residence and twat around in the local park. Or eat chips. Or both.

The soundtrack to that summer was Matchbox Twenty. I'd just seen them at a overly shit Bon Jovi concert, and they were without doubt the best part of that day. I was determined to inflict their songs on as many people as possible. Luckily Kirsty was a huge fan too. Everywhere we went, and Percy went, Matchbox Twenty went too. Happy times. Life was less confusing that summer. Nothing to worry about other than having fun. No jobs, no ties, no responsibilities. Before the days of relationships and heartbreak. A more innocent, hopeful (maybe naïve) time. Just me, Kirsty, Percy and Matchbox Twenty.

Fast-forward seven years, and times have changed. Massively. We both have fairly tough and demanding jobs. We both know what it's like to have loved and lost. Percy has been replaced by a new model called Orlando. Innocence, hopefulness gone… But probably still a bit naïve. And the thought of us spending just one weekend driving around together, let alone a whole summer's worth, is pretty much unthinkable, such are our lives now.

But one thing remains: Our love of Matchbox Twenty.

Last Thursday, we went to Wembley to see them. I met up at the O2 with Kirsty and Alex, a rather nice young gent from her watering hole (that's not code) who was coming with us. We went in search of cocktails, and stumbled upon Frankie & Benny's.

Several Strawberry/Champagne creations were downed, and I think the Passion Fruit may have put in an appearance at some point. Conversations ranged from work, to epilepsy, to Heath Ledger, to Jacuzzis, to Alex being a complete lightweight (Bed by 8pm?! What's wrong with you man?!) and obviously recalled some of the old favourites: Making someone cry in Year 10 English, the 'I'm Not Going Home Without My Shoes' incident… The usual stories!

(No mention of the time I was mugged. Kirsty must have been trying not to humiliate me too much in front of this person I'd only just met! Bless her…)

By the time we left, several hours later, I think we were all quite tipsy. We staggered towards the Jubilee Line, and the Rush Hour squeeze. We all got seats. And as an extra-special bonus, I got a seat AND a woman's anus in my face. Pleasant. God bless the Rush Hour!

After what seemed like an eternity staring at this woman's vast behind, we got off the train at Wembley and headed towards the Arena. Yay! Much excitement, and a little bit of pre-cum!

A few more drinks seemed to find their way into our hands as we watched the support act. Headway. They were REALLY good! It's not often I enjoy a support act. The only support act I've ever REALLY enjoyed were Matchbox Twenty themselves at THAT hideous gig in Milton Keynes with Bon Jovi. So yes… Headway. Buy their EP if you like Maroon 5 or The Calling. That's the plug over with. If they become huge, I can take a little portion of the credit. Maybe the royalties too, but I might have to discuss that with them. Headway. Yes. They're good.

We amused ourselves with a bit of lesbian-baiting, the gentle mocking of some foreigners, and a few more piss-weak beers. I went to the toilet forty-three and a half times. And then it was time for them to begin.

"Hello… Hello…"

They opened with one of my all-time favourites – How Far We've Come. It's a great, punch-the-air, life-affirming, pop-rock song, but it really does make me think sometimes. Makes me think just how far we HAVE come. Not sure if that's a good thing or not. I think too much.

Alex, Kirsty and my pretty self cheered and sang as if our sole mission was just to break our vocal chords. And I don't think we stopped for the whole night. Word for word shouted back at them with such passion; always moving and uplifting when you are in a room-full of people all doing the same, all feeling the same.

There were so many highlights. I have to mention Back 2 Good though. God, that song. That song.

"Everyone here is wondering what it's like to be with somebody else,

And everyone here's to blame,

Everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure and the pain."

The only thing stopping me blubbing like a baby was the thought of Kirsty sidelining the 'I'm Not Going Home Without My Shoes' story in favour of 'Remember The Time You Cried Your Eyes Out In Public Like A Fucking Nancy?'

Fantastically moving, as was my Matchbox Twenty Theme Song: Hand Me Down. A beautiful song from their third album that seemed to sum up an entire year of my life. Granted, as a theme song, it's not as wonderful at Tracey by The Cuff Links, but it means something to me and was great to hear it live.

Other major highlights were If You're Gone, Could I Be You, Long Day…

And Bright Lights. Like the Tom McRae song of the same name, a hopeful little ditty about escape and dreams. And love. And all the usual things I look for in a song. Fantastic.

As I say, the gig was just perfect, and it was nice to go somewhere other than the Turnpike with Kirsty. It was certainly in my Top Five Gigs Of All-Time… And probably one of the best nights I've ever had.

"While you were sleeping,

I was listening to the radio

And wondering what you're dreaming

When it came to mind that I didn't care…"

Doctor Who Watch #4

Episode Four/Five: The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky by Helen Raynor

Given that this script was penned by the same woman responsible for the most atrocious episodes since Love & Monsters, I didn’t have very high hopes.

Her offensive Dalek episodes from last year rank among the very few episodes of Doctor Who I can’t stand. They were abysmal, and even though a former gentleman caller of mine was in it (!) I still find myself unable to watch it again when ploughing through the Box Set. So imagine my surprise when I actually start enjoying this two-parter. More than enjoying it, LOVING it!

Okay, so Martha just seems a bit redundant now. Compared to Donna, she seems like such a waste of screen time. (Which is a shame, because I think Freema Whatshername is actually quite likeable). So then to have TWO Martha’s running around… Well, that was just a silly idea. Now two Donnas? THAT would have been worth seeing!

The opening five minutes were gripping; like a modern-day thriller. The Doctor giving a heartbreaking farewell speech to Donna, thinking it was the last time he’d see her, before she went and ruined it by saying she was merely popping home – GENIUS! The thought of Wilf dying at the end of Episode Four upset me greatly… So I was most pleased to see him survive. (Although the piss-easy way they got around it – smashing the car window with an axe – felt like a bit of a cop-out)

That irritating little gob-shite human kid assisting the Sontaran’s was rather well played, and I don't suppose I would have kicked him out of bed, either. (Him AND Ross... Mmmm...)

I particularly enjoyed his self-sacrifice at the end of the episode. Even though I saw it coming a mile off.

The Sontaran’s were nicely realised. Their war-mongering dialogue was amusing, and they made a much better ‘classic enemy’ that the Cybermen.

All in all, a really quite enjoyable two episodes.

Total Score: EIGHT out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #3

Episode Three: Planet Of The Ood by Keith Temple

Without a shadow of a doubt, my favourite episode of the series so far. I love the Ood. I want to sit on their faces. All of them.

They are the best ‘new’ monsters since Doctor Who came back in 2005, and it was great to learn more about them. Tim McInenenenenenenrnnenenerny was brilliant as the Chief Baddie. Very three-dimensional, for a villain, showing a vulnerable side as well as a murderous, cold-hearted side. I was most pleased with myself when I guessed, within the first second of seeing him drink his hair tonic, that he would be turned into an Ood at some stage. Aren’t I clever?

Again, a thought-provoking episode that blows the likes of Partners In Crime out of the water. Commenting on the slave trade, the holocaust... Yet still being remarkably good fun. The Ood song moved me – and, it would seem, Donna – to tears. But the hints at what lies in store for the Doctor and Donna are really beginning to annoy me...“Your song must end”

No. Stop it. The Doctor and Donna should never be parted. They are the best double act ever! Best assistant, second-best Doctor... I love them. So it hurts knowing that something soon will tear them apart.

“There is something on your back”

Total Score: NINE out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #2

Episode Two: The Fires Of Pompeii by James Moran (Or should that be James Moron. Oh, the wit!)

Yes, well... This one dragged a bit. The Sisterhood were dull and pointless, providing no real threat. I couldn’t stop picturing Phil Davies as Wilfred Brambell, which made his turn as Chief Baddie almost laughable. The Latin jokes went WAY over my head, as I don’t know any Latin. (Despite three Latin lessons at school with the lovely Miss Cornforth: “Get to the Naughty Table! Wayne, Kirsty... Stop bullying Craig”)

Donna convinced The Doctor to save Sid’s Dead Dad (the glorious Peter Capaldi) and the rest of his family. It was quite moving, and good to see her standing up to the Doctor. But if they should have died, and history was changed so they lived... Where were the Reapers? The whole point of Father’s Day (Series One) was that history had been changed by Rose saving her Dad from dying, and that was BAD. So why don’t the Reapers come to clean ‘The Wound In Time’ when the Doctor saves a whole family from the death that they were destined to have? Or am I misunderstanding the whole ‘Time-Space-Paradox-Bollox’ stuff?

Either way, I don’t get how the Doctor could have saved this family without consequence?

It was a moving episode though, and Catherine Tate was – again – fantastic as Donna. She made me shed a small tear. The last twenty minutes were gripping, thought-provoking and moving... But the slow start really stopped this from being as epic as it promised. A great episode, but not the classic it should have been.

Total Score: SEVEN out of TEN

Doctor Who Watch #1

Episode One: Partners In Crime by Russell T. Davies, who is a little bit gay.

I can’t recall looking forward to an episode quite as much as this one. After the rather awful Christmas special (Too many deaths, too little substance, too much Kylie and the spazziest baddie EVER!) I was looking forward to the start of the series proper. Especially after the seeing the trailer in the cinema, which made the excitement just too much to bear. In the event, I was a little disappointed.

It had been built it up so much, that I was expecting something amazing. As it was, all we got was another ‘First Episode’ – The one where everything has to be set up. The one where RTD makes us care about the new assistant. The one that establishes the dynamic between Doctor and assistant. A fun little episode that doesn’t even begin to compare to those that will no doubt follow.

(If you had the choice, would you rather watch Rose or The Empty Child…? That is clearly a rhetorical question. I don’t expect anyone to be sad enough to have even made it to this paragraph, let alone start answering the questions sprinkled within.)

Obviously, RTD can’t open a series – and lets not forget it IS a kids show – with a dark, sinister, frankly depressing episode like The Last Of The Time Lords. But a BIT of an edge wouldn’t have gone amiss.

The villains of the piece were so cute that it was hard to understand why the Doctor was trying to stop them. Ah, the Adipose. I want one. Someone buy me one. It can sit on my bed next to AlanYentob, looking all nice and cuddly.

Nice and cuddly… Not really want you want from a Doctor Who foe.

But there were still some things to enjoy. Lots, in fact. The first twenty minutes where the Doctor and Donna keep missing each other was a nice new take on the whole ‘Doctor meeting his assistant’ thing. And the silent conversation they have when they first clap eyes on each other did make me do an out-loud chuckle for a few seconds. Even if my lip-reading skills weren’t quite good enough to understand what the hell was going on.

Raquel from Coronation Street, doing her best impression of Jo Frost from Supernanny, was a really good baddie. Sinister and camp-as-arseholes… THAT is what you want from a Doctor Who foe! (Although if she’d searched high-and-low for somewhere that was as “Beautifully Fat” as the UK… Why the hell didn’t she try America?!)

Whoever thought to hire Bernard Cribbins to play Donna’s Granddad should be knighted for services to genius casting. If he’s not the new assistant for Series Five, I’m going to stop watching!

David Tennant did his usual bit. As good as always, but still not quite Christopher Eccleston. And as for Catherine Tate…The thing about hiring a woman like Catherine Tate is that she is not as conventionally attractive as Billie Piper or that other bint. Most TV Critics are sleazy, smug old men who judge a programme, not on its quality, but on how pretty the cast are. So suddenly the reviews for this series have been a lot less glowing… Slating the whole of Doctor Who, just because they don’t want to bash one out over Catherine Tate.

I think she’s fucking wonderful though. She’s toned down the ‘Shouty Old Harridan’ act since the last time we saw her in the 2006 Christmas Special (although I enjoyed THAT too!) and looks set to be my favourite assistant. She’s got a genuinely funny rapport with Mr Tennant, yet I’m quite sure she’s going to be a revelation when it comes to all the emotional stuff.

Her asking the Doctor “Don’t you want me?” was heartbreaking, and hopefully a small indication of what she is capable of. I can’t wait to see where these next twelve episodes take the character of Donna. Hopefully to some darker, more dramatic situations than those of Episode One. I’m looking forward to the ride…

Total Score: SEVEN out of TEN

Accelerate & Alcohol

Myself and Bex had booked into a cockroach-free hotel in Kensington (which, judging on past experiences, appears to be somewhat of a rarity) for a night of Alcohol and Accelerate.

Accelerate is REM’s new album. Alcohol is… well, you know what Alcohol is, surely?!

So, we popped to a nearby shop for supplies (Mmm… Scampi Nik-Naks! When did they make a comeback?!) and we managed to get into a small argument with Mrs Cunt Behind The Till. She tried to give us a fake ten pound note.

“It’s fine. Take it. It’s fine. You can use it in other shops. It’s fine. Get out. Get out of my shop. Don’t you dare question me. It’s fine. It’s a proper ten pound note. Get out. Get out. Thank you for calling!”

She also prices her Malibu ridiculously high. £18 for a small bottle?! In the words of Turkey Farmer Bernard Manning, it was a “fucking disgrace”. If I wasn’t so thirsty – a whole MONTH without a drop of alcohol passing my lips – there probably would have been another argument.

“It’s fine. Buy it. It’s fine. It costs that much in other shops. Honestly. Stop looking at the price tag and just pay me. Get out. Get out of my shop…”

She was a bit of a cunt.

We retired to our hotel room for a couple of drinks, a listen to some of the new songs on Accelerate and a rinse of our private parts.

We then grabbed a small – or, in my case, a HUGE – bite to eat at the local Wagamamamamama’s. I thought it was just a rumour, but asparagus really DOES make your piss – and sex piss – stink. Nasty business.

After squeezing my fat gut out of Wagamamamamamamamama’s, we headed towards the Uncle Albert Hall. As regular readers of my shit witterings will know, this is where I saw the Flaming Lips. I should have been watching Tooth & Claw – Episode Two, Series Two of Doctor Who – but instead, Foxy Bellend decided to drag us to the very highest seats and force us to watch a man in a ball singing songs that were sadly not Fight Test.

From that night on, I’ve always shuddered at the mere mention of the place. I always thought it to be a completely shite venue. And, I guess, if you’re high up with an awful view (as we were at the Flaming Lips), then it IS a pretty shite venue and you ARE going to have a crap time. But if you happen to be in a BOX…

:-p

Oh yes, a BOX. A velvety, private box, with coathangers, a table and enough room to swing a cat. If pets were allowed, obviously. We shared the box with just three other people – two old twats and a bloke who looked perfectly normal but, as he was on his own at a gig, was probably a bit of a suspect individual. It was GREAT! No having to get half the audience to stand up and move out your way every time you need to make piss. No chance of getting into a fight with someone by accidentally jumping on their toes… mentioning no names, Mr Bellend.

It was perfect!

I could have quite happily spent three hours marvelling at what a fantastic BOX it was. Which would have been a better way of spending my time than sitting through the tedious support acts:

FOALS – Ridiculous haircuts. The guitarist looked like he was having a seizure. Their songs were just noise. They weren’t particularly pretty. Made me long for the days of Idlewild and their threat of “We’re going to sing TEN songs for you now!”

DUKE SPIRIT or DUKE SPECIAL, I don’t know which – For a start, I can’t remember their name, so they can’t have been that good. And they weren’t. The banshee on lead vocals was doing her best to try and beat The Go! Team as Worst Support Act We’ve Ever Seen. She may have succeeded.

ROBYN HITCHCOCK – Pretty. A couple of nice acoustic numbers, but nothing amazing. Made for a nice toilet break, though.

And then, after stocking up on Vodka & Coke from the Delightful Foreign Gentleman at the bar, we took our seats once more for the main event… REM!

Living Well Is The Best Revenge and Man-Sized Wreath – two tracks from the new album – opened the show, with the latter being one of the highlights of the entire night. When the not-bad-for-his-age Michael Stipe warned the audience that the night was going to be “loud”, he wasn’t kidding. They did, in fact, rock!

The new tracks were good – some better than good, such as Supernatural Superserious – but obviously I was dying to hear the old favourites.

Losing My Religion, Imitation Of Life, The Great Beyond, Drive, Electrolite and the always-amazing finale of Man On The Moon made for an unforgettable evening. Could have done with less new stuff and more old songs, but it was still a fantastic night. In a fantastic venue, as it turned out. It was the BOX that did it!

Hearing them perform Leave would have made it even better, though! Eh, Bex?

Newspaper Story Of The Week

Front Page of the Daily Sport this Friday...

KILLED BY THE BOSS!

An Australian woman has admitted that she stabbed her husband following a row over a Bruce Springsteen CD.

Karen Lee Cooper pleaded guilty to manslaughter and will face eight years in prison for killing her partner of two years Kevin Watson at their home in Queensland in 2006.

Her charge was downgraded from murder after the court accepted she never intended to kill Watson. The court was told that Cooper, who had been drinking at their Cedar Grove home, attacked Watson with a kitchen knife after he told her to take a Springsteen album off the stereo.

In a recorded police interview, Cooper said: "I couldn't even play Bruce Springsteen on my stereo. Can you believe that? Can you believe that?"

"I mean, who doesn't like Bruce Springsteen? I'm 49 years old and I want to play my own music."


Well, exactly... Who doesn't like Bruce Springsteen? What a perfectly reasonable reason for killing your husband to death. Who doesn't like Bruce Springsteen? I'd have stabbed him, too. May he burn in hell...

Last.FM Charts For 2007

Once again, here be a round-up of the most-played songs from the past year, courtesy of those little chart-makers at Last.Fm. Aren't they brilliant? I mean, how else would you find out that I'd listened to McFly a total of 437 times in twelve months? You can't put a price on information like that. So, last year a surprise victory for When You Were Young by The Killers. Can they make it two-years running at the top of my charts? Drumroll please...

50 - Somebody Told Me by The Killers
49 - I Promised Myself by A*Teens
48 - Sound Of The City by Tom McRae
47 - Accidental Babies by Damien Rice
46 - Big Girl (You Are Beautiful) by Mika
45 - Grey Room by Damien Rice
44 - There Must Be An Angel by No Angels
43 - Rainy Monday by Shiny Toy Guns
42 - Who Knew by Pink
41 - Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez
40 - Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen
39 - Life On Mars by Michelle Branch
38 - Chances Are by Vonda Shepard
37 - Something Kinda Oooh by Girls Aloud
36 - Maybe by No Angels
35 - Got A Suitcase, Got Regrets by Tom McRae
34 - In Too Deep by Genesis
33 - The Origin Of Love by Hedwig And The Angry Inch
32 - You Only Disappear by Tom McRae
31 - The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice
30 - Atlantis 2002 by No Angels
29 - Cannonball by Damien Rice
28 - Love Changes Everything by Sarah Brightman
27 - 9 Crimes by Damien Rice
26 - The Power Of Love by Celine Dion
25 - I've Been High by REM
24 - Kiss-A-Licious by Excellence
23 - Where Is Your Love by No Angels
22 - Angel Of The Morning by Thunderbugs
21 - Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright
20 - Don't Stop The Music by Play
19 - Grace Kelly by Mika
18 - Le Disko by Shiny Toy Guns
17 - Such Great Heights by Postal Service
16 - One Of Us by A*Teens
15 - You Are The One by Shiny Toy Guns
14 - Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield
13 - Lola by McFly & Busted
12 - Be Mine! by Robyn
11 - La Cienega Just Smiled by Ryan Adams
10 - The Bleeding Heart Show by The New Pornographers
09 - Challengers by The New Pornographers
08 - The Reason by Hoobastank
07 - What Is This Feeling? by Wicked
06 - Starts With One by Shiny Toy Guns
05 - Run by Snow Patrol
04 - One Mississippi by Tom McRae
03 - Out Of This by Tom McRae
02 - Silent Boulevard by Tom McRae
01 - Oh Yeah by Tom McRae

So that'll be a no... When You Were Young didn't even make it into the Top 50 this year! That's quite a drop. Instead, Mr Tom McRae returns to his rightful position of No1, with his beautiful cover version of Oh Yeah. Looking at the chart, it was quite a year for Tom McRae. And before I start to analyse that in any great detail, I'm going to fuck off. I know this is of no interest to anyone but me. (Although feel free to check back next year to see if Tom can make it a second year at the top...)