Night in.

Well, I managed it. Went home straight from work and didn’t surface til this morning. Didn’t even pop out for a bottle of fizzy pop and some fags. I’m rather proud.

So things are taking a rather sinister turn over on Oaks, with Darren now roped into the killing of Sean Kennedy debacle. For the uninitiated: Warren killed Louise’s nasty husband Sean (although if memory serves, I’m sure Warren is nastier, but hey) and got Justin to help cover it up. Louise found out ages later but has now been arrested for his murder (something about one of her hairs being found on the body, Sean bribing Louise and beating her up and that). So now, Louise is in jail, awaiting trial, while Warren stumbles about the village trying to find someone to pin it on.

Last night, he set his sights on Darren (or him off Byker Grove as I like to think of him), who smoothly passed the buck onto psycho Jake Dean (currently banged yup in a mental institute because he… went mental. Or something – I missed that ep). I think the theory is, if they can pin it on Jake – who’ll be locked up for life anyway and can’t go to jail because he’s mental – then everyone gets off scott free. Oooh, it’s all quite dark isn’t it? Still, not as bad as marrying someone to then kill them and take their money, or eating disorders, or shagging your sister, so certainly one the Oaks team can tackle with their usual finesse.

On the flip side: Enders. And yet more re-hashed storylines. Well’ard must be the most miserable dog in London – he always seems to be going missing. Something he’s trying to tell us perhaps? Hello, RSPCA? I’ve also lost count of the number of times the sister/best mate getting pregnant by sister’s/mate’s bloke saga has been done. Snore.

And has no one realised that Minty and Heather aren’t actually legally married? At the wedding, Heather was pretending to be Hazel, and yet, when the registrar found this out, they just proceeded as if nothing had happened. Er… First off, that’s fraud, basically, and secondly, you can’t just go ahead with it – they’d need a whole new marriage licence for starters. Tsk. Lazy.

The evening continued in that same style – bored, tired, lazy. Gok is great and I’ve extolled his virtues time and again. But striping someone off and then shoving them in a shop window on Oxford Street doesn’t give your show a fresh twist. It’s just torturous. I preferred it when the subjects had a lovely, tasteful photo shoot where a pro would set them up in a flattering pose. But now they usually always have their backs to the shoppers and then turn, giving them a really unflattering back-fat fold. Not nice. Plus, when they went on the shoot, they got pampered and then had a memento of the day to take away with them. Last night the show’s subject was an actress (hey, at least they admit to it!) who hated her thighs, blah blah blah, snore. Next!

Gordon. At least Gordon will provide some pizzazz, some entertainment. And yes, in between bullying some soap actresses husband for not being able to cook a soufflé (who in the world can cook soufflé who isn’t a proper chef, eh?) and trying out yoga poses with Geri Halliwell, we had a few interesting bits where he got Gavinandstacey’sjamescorden to eat fish eyes, duck tongue and chicken feet. James had proclaimed in his smug way (which is starting to irritate me actually – and how come he’s everywhere at the moment? Just because G&S is feckin lush, doesn’t mean I want to see his smug grin on every show, especially he’s going to giggle and be insincerely coy about bloody Lily Allen all the time) that he was a “bit of a Chinese food connoisseur,” to which Gorden responded with glee, blindfolding Corden and spooning various delicacies into his gob.

Then he had to go and ruin it. I’m all for confidence. I’m all for speaking your mind. But when you let arrogance take over, and you start slagging your peers off just for the sake of it, then that’s just embarrassing – and it ultimately says more about your own skills than the people you’re dissin. Gordon seems to have a problem with fat chefs. First Jamie Oliver then Nigella then that one who looks too much like Richard Stilgoe for my liking. Gordon’s argument is that chefs are setting a bad example to the public by being fat. But why shouldn’t they be lardy? I’d rather a chef enjoyed food and tasted their own (frequently) than one who only ate lettuce and the occasional beansprout. The whole thing only served to make Gordon look incredibly insecure – he’s a top chef, he should be shouting about his own creations, not the size of Jamie’s arse. If he *did* want to get in on the whole obesity debate, then chastise us as a nation, not your peers. Yes, it’s rather jolly at first, but I got rather sick of it towards the end.

***Breaking news***
Just saw the US Life on Mars trailer.

Looks cool. Hating the voiceover (what is it with comedy voiceovers at the moment?) which makes it seem more like a guffawing, bumbling ridiculous mass instead of a taught drama interspersed with wit, but hey ho. Americans, what can you do, eh?

An oldie but a goodie…

This is weird. I’d always thought of him more as the Artful Dodger. See…?

Back to it

Ooh, I do hope this turns out OK as it’d be Very Good News, I think. If the powers that be *have* to do a remake, then I’d rather have Willis saying The Line and sucking on a cigar than any of those others that were apparently tipped for the role (oops, there I go giving my opinion about casting again, when I promised I wouldn’t. Sorry).

An odd night tonight for me. It’s the first evening when I haven’t had anything planned (even just popping to the shop) straight after work in a *long time*. It used to be my almost-daily routine for years: up, work, home, telly, bed. But of late, for obvious reasons, I’ve wanted to be out of the flat as much as poss. It’ll be weird to settle into my old routine again, but necessary I think (if not for my wallet at least!)

So tonight it’s The Wondrous Hollyoaks, Enders, Gok, Ramsey, SATC premiere. Done.

Expect full bloggage tomorrow.

Kids in the Fall

Not quite sure what to make of this little news item. I mean, obviously it’s terrible for the boy and his parents – he’s been left quite badly brain damaged, which is a terrible tragedy, but… I dunno, when I were a lass, there was a generally consensus among us kids that, when using bouncy castles, you were more or less taking your life into your own hands. It was a given that, at any party that had a castle, there’d be at least one bloody nose, one sprained wrist or kicked stomach by the end of it.

In fact, if I remember correctly, there was usually a British Bulldog (the collective term for The Big Boys) of boys who seemed to be on some sort of quest to mow down as many of us littleuns as possible in the allotted time.

Yes, there’s the matter of supervision. But (and clearly my memories are cloudy) I don’t remember any kind of supervision when I was younger, other than the person who’d stand at the front ordering kids to take their shoes off. I suppose they have to make sure there aren’t too many kids on their at once, but IMO, the only safe number of kids on a bouncy castle is one (and even then, especially with my lack of balance and coordination) that doesn’t always guarantee a bruiseless body by the end of it.

When I was about seven, before my parents divorced, we lived in a lovely little village in Hertfordshire called Wheathampstead. It was in the middle of no where (or seemed to be anyway), and was your basic chocolate box English village (complete with allotments, rivers and cows). Our garden backed on to miles of countryside. It was ace. One time, we were exploring some building works that were going on in one of the fields and ended up having a massive mud fight with the Kids Off The Estate (one of whom it was said carried a knife!). It was real Us vs Them kind of stuff and in the end, someone on our side accidentally picked up what they thought was some dried mud and hurled it at said Knife Boy. Turned out it was actually a brick. Luckily he was fine, and ‘only’ got a hefty cut to the head, but did anything come of it? No. Because back then, parents understood that kids will do this sort of thing. Plus the next week, he got my brother back by giving him a real beating…

So what kind of precedent does it set? And what will this mean for kids’ parties? Eventually there’ll be no cake (for fear of vomiting, or food poisoning), no clown, no balloon magic… It’ll just be kids stuck in a dark room playing on a PS2.

The Summer of Films: Iron Man

To the first blockbuster of the summer last night – Iron Man. Not going to delve too much into this as I promised the Lady Jayne I’d not do spoilers. But it’s ace. And it’s apparently quite faithful to the comic, although of course I wouldn’t know. RDJ is soooo sexy (it’s all about the older guys atm), he’s uber cool and has some wicked one-liners (and not in a wanker way). Heck, even I want to be him. Gwyneth isn’t nearly as annoying as she seems to be in real life, and they have good chemistry. Oh, and do stay to the end of the credits, folks. That is all.

Not sure if every cinema gets the same roll of film, but just got to mention the cute little short we had just before the trailers. It’s called Procrastination (I think) and although it’s not exactly an original concept, it’s really cute. I loved the style (you’re looking up at a piece of paper, through some glass, as the animator draws on it). And it pretty much sums up how BM has been feeling over the last few weeks. There’s always something I have to do before I build those shelves. Or unpack. I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually…

Also (on an entirely different planet it seems) finally caught the Sex and the City trailer this morning. God, it’s terrible – the trailer I mean. Why do female-oriented films always have that dude with the deep voice as a VO (I think his name is Red)? It made the film seem like some kind of wank romantic comedy (which, yes, it essentially is I suppose) starring Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz getting themselves into hiillllaaarrrious consequences after a few too many tipples. Or *ha ha* Anne Hathaway and her myriad bridesmaid dresses, who meets the love of her life when he writes an article on how miserable and single she is! Or *guphaw* Kate Hudson trying to lose a man in ten days.

No. SATC is not one of those. It’s not a stupid, vacuous aren’t-we-all-tragically-single-until-a-suave-man-comes-along-and-saves-us comedy. It’s about empowerment. It’s about strong sexy women. And ultimately, it’s about love – the love between four best friends. No stupid deep-voiced commentary needed thank you very much.

Return of the Badger

Honey, I’m hoooommmeeee…!

Oh good, you’ve been here all along. Great. Well thanks for waiting for me. I must say I’ve really missed you.

Let’s get to it with a traditional BMTV The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

Oh, but first and foremost, I must big up Dave my new editor (ooooh, get her). Dave will be uploading BMTV from now on (so big thanks to him), as I am unable due to not having pesky broadband (or t’internet at all) at home. Yes, I know. First she doesn’t even have Freeview, now the World Wide Web has gone. How can she review (is that what I’m doing?) TV shows when she’s only got four channels and no iPlayer?

Ha I say. Ha!

The Good
Er… Actually, you’ve got a point. Because thanks to my New Single Lifestyle™ I’ve actually not been in to watch as much telly. (No, that is a Bad Thing where I’m from). Hence, I’ve caught snippets of The Apprentice on YouTube and have kept up with its happenings from the mighty Mothers (thanks guys) but have yet to see any full ep past episode two. Erk.

Another Good Thing on TV atm, has to be not-so-new-now companion Donna on Dr Who. Oh, how I ranted and raved when I first heard it’d be her traveling in the TARDIS and not Sally Sparrow. But… You know me, guys, I always admit when I’m wrong. No, I do. Rilly. And I was. Wrong that is. Wrong, wrong, wrong… And I’m sorry. Donna’s ace. Brilliant. Excellent. Not at all as shouty as I’d feared and actually really touching to watch. I love how she’s become the heart of the programme, always questioning; always challenging. She’s its conscience. We’re all too used to seeing aliens being blown to smithereens (or should that be Slitheens?) but Donna’s the first to go, “Hang on. This ain’t right,” and that is a Good Thing. Yes, she does cry every. Single. Episode. But hey, turn it into a drinking game (a shot for every minute into the ep she doesn’t cry) and it’d be grins all round.

Is she better than Martha? No. Just *different*, see? And she’s a refreshing change to the constant fawning and doe-eyes we’ve had of late. That scene on Saturday’s Sontaron two-parter where the Doc sacrificed himself but was then saved – Martha ran to him and hugged him. Donna ran over and slapped him one. Classic. And it sums it all up. Great stuff more please.

Oh, and I know I’m going on about it, but I *am* really sorry for slagging off the Tate-meister. After reading this about how Keeley Hawes felt after the mauling she got from Life on Mars fans, I’ve decided to keep my nose out of casting decisions from now on. Well… Maybe I’ll just not be so nasty. Sorry, Tate.

The Bad
Everyone’s going on about how Enders won four awards at the Soap Awards this week. Er… Can I just mention that Hollyoaks nabbed six? That’s more than any other soap at the awards. And no one gives a toss. Well, I do Oaks folk. Well feckin done. And well deserved I think. Enders really needs to step up its game atm. I can’t be arsed to go into it here – mainly because it’s been said so well here – but in short: they need to make up their minds about Stephen (is he good or is he bad? Who cares?); I don’t care about Ricky and Bianca and their hoard of snotty mini chavs (incidentally, wasn’t Liam meant to have been Bianca’s first kid? So why is there an older sister in tow?); I don’t care about Stacey, Claire, Sean, Tanya… Any of them. The only characters that actually engage me at the moment are the two tarts in the Vic. And that’s only because I’m waiting to see how long Janus can last with that constantly pissed expression before Enders chiefs realise that she’s not actually acting.

The Ugly (well… more cringy)
*Hails bandwagon. Jumps on board* Have recently watched the first series of Gavin & Stacey (no, don’t ruin it for me!). Not since The Office have I fallen so deeply in love with a cast of characters. In fact, I’m not sure who I love more, Nessa or Uncle Bryn. That is all.

Thanks for bearing with me guys. It feels great to be back…

BM x

Sabbatical

A thousand apolgies for not posting in such a long time. This is the longest unexplained absence I’ve taken from BMTV since its start so thanks to those (few - ahem!) who’ve been wondering where I’ve been and a sage nod to those who’ve been patiently clicking over here every now and then to see if anything’s up.

The main reason for the break has been one of circumstance. As you know, I’m in Oxford until 12th April when my lovely new flat will be ready for me. I’d say ‘habitable’, but those who’ve seen photos of the kitchen may call me a fantasist. Being in Oxford, and (what’s more) having Freeview, you might think that I’ve a long list of things to rant about. Well… to be honest, I din’t feel I’ve done that much TV watching. Maybe I actually have (in fact, I’m sure I have!), but I’ve certainly felt I’ve not had much inspiration.

Yes there’s been the Apprentice launch (itself a pot of bile and embarrassment from which to draw ranting breath), the dire Enders plot lines (Max and Tanya’s ridiculous burial storyline had me seething), the wondrous, brain frying Ashes finale (so why was he shouting ‘Tim! Tim! Wait a minute’? And how did the evil dude know they were playing Ashes To Ashes in the car? And if Gene Hunt really does exist, then how does that all tie in with Sam and LoM? etc, etc). But to be honest, I’ve just not been able to find the words to type this all. Or maybe I can (clearly) find the words, but I just can’t be arsed (something to do with having more pressing things on my mind at the moment…). Or maybe I just have writer’s block.

Another reason for the break is that it’s now become more difficult to physically blog in a practical sense. The only available internet connection I have is in Oxford and by the time I get home, I’m shattered and don’t particularly feel like venting. And anyway, there’s TV to be watched!

So I’ve decided to take a small BMTV sabbatical (for a month or so) until I sort things out good and proper and can dedicate myself to this ‘ere blog again. I do love it dearly, and have really enjoyed people’s kind comments over the years and especially lately. I’m sorry to leave you, and I do hope you return soon.

BM x

Recharging with The Conscripts

To Oxford for the next two weeks to recharge. Y’all know how I hate being prsonal in this blog, but Mr Badger and I have parted company, so I am in Oxford waiting while they finish decorating my new sett (for those inevitable questions: my decision, very messy and stressful).

I love coming back to Oxford. Even though I have recently come to terms with the fact that Bath is actually more beautiful (Oxford’ has let itself go over the years), Oxford is still, and will always be, my home. My reset button. Coming back to Oxford is coming back to the womb and I always feel recharged and more myself afterwards. And I’ve never needed to rediscover who I am again more than now.

 Enough of ramblings about me, and on to last night’s wondrous Conscripts gig at the Jericho Tavern, Oxford. Yes, they’re just another local band with a MySpace page, but they’re more than that. I sat there listening to their lyrics, melodies and juggling of rhythms, intruments and genres and thought, “How is it possible for this to have been created from nothing?” It just floored me. I love how each member of the band are immensely talented in their own field and their own genre of music. There’s hip hop, swing, jazz, blues, pop, funk - even a bit of 90s jungle! But fused together something wondrous is created.

They were ten times better than last time I saw them - good to know that Dan and his decks really are needed! Please please seek them out. Go to a gig and give them some love.

Lemsip, Tic Tacs, Sugar Puffs and Potter

Just a quick round up of my TV thoughts before a week’s break.

So The Apprentice Does Celebrity Sport Relief (or whatever it was called) was on last night. Not sure it really worked this time for a few reasons. One major flaw was that fact that Siralan hardly appeared at all, and he’s the jam in the Apprentice sandwich, you see. Without his looming presence and sarky, impatient thoughts it was just a load of celebs bickering about colours. Secondly, the task was dull. It was yet another ‘organise a party and sell stuff’ task.

I’d much rather see them schlepping to France to sell them black pudding, or designing a building to maxmise profits. This time it was very much, ‘who has the most rich contacts’. Louise Redknapp got her rich footballer mates involved with one kind man giving £100K for one ticket (this, instead of leaving me warm and fuzzy, made me angry that anyone can have that much money to throw around). Bernie Ecclestone promised to double whatever the Boys made, while his braying son (?) seemed to buy everything they were selling anyway, so it was really the Ecclestone Clan vs the Girls.

The Girls were clearly going to win from the start. As the Boys admitted, they didn’t have an adult on their team, and the Girls had Ms Anne Summers herself, Jacqueline Gold, so a retail task was going to be right up her street. Talking of streets, Kirsty Allsopp found herself in a very odd location location (see what I did there? I should so write for the Sun – er… that’s not a good thing, is it?), finally venting her pent up anger at Gold for being a control freak. And that’s another problem with the Celeb version. You just don’t see the winding up process because they’ve had to boil everything down to an hour. As far as I was concerned, Jacqueline just had a few comments to make about the logo and the decor of the shop. Fair enough; she was team leader and had the most experience.

Now on to Lemsip Opratt vs Hardeep. The only times I’ve seen Hardeep was when he did a very unfunny ‘comedy’ sketch about poker, in his reports for The One Show and an occasional documentary. I find him hugely unfunny (mainly because he thinks he’s sooooo hilarious) and very very annoying. His “It’s my japati and I’ll cry if I want to,” one-liner said it all really. Likewise, Lemsip comes across as being the wettest man in the world, slimey, awkward, creeping… My skin’s crawling just thinking about him. This is a guy who claims not to “have authorisation” to bargain with the Girls when he’d been appointed team leader. It’s no wonder the Lib Dems never win anything (nor ever will if they have people like him as their poster boy). In the end I had to side with Hardeep. Yes, Hardeep was being an attention-seeking prick, but Lemsip couldn’t lead an army of lemmings.

Did anyone catch his painfully embarrassing call to his ‘girlfriend’ one-of-the-Cheeky-Girls? I think it’s very clear she’s not actually his girlfriend, isn’t it? Seemed to me like she was treating him like some deranged fan or stalker. Oh, and his, “You’re like a Tic-Tac: you’ve given me a little lift…” to which she replied with a baffled silence. Eek!

As for who to sack, well of course the fault lies heaviest with the team leader. So it’ll be Lemsip and Hardeep in the boardroom, probably with Nick Hancock in for good measure – yes he was also in it, but you’ll be forgiven for not noticing him as he didn’t actually seem to do anything.

*****

In other news, I wonder what The Mighty Boosh make of this…

Shame they didn’t/couldn’t get the Boosh involved if that’s what they wanted to do as their marketing stretegy, as it just comes across as being a right rip off.

Also very happy about this. No cutting = good thing.

“So f*cking what?” News story of the week

I’m so tired of the lazy way the celebrity media make nasty jibes about celeb fashion and beauty mistakes. “Ha ha! Look at her black bra under a white top!” “OMG!!! Her tit tape is showing!!!!” *yawn* Everyone makes mistakes, has moments of “I don’t know what to wear” madness or the odd skirt-tucked-into-knickers mishap. It’s mortifying enough to realise it’s happened without having to see it in print by people who are most probably less well-dressed and lead such dull lives they have to spend it trawling a paparazzi archive of fashion blunders and then bitching about it.
I’m not a Celen Dion fan, but I think she looks great for her age and besides, I doubt any of those who attended her gig could see her face that clearly as she “strutted” during the gig, let alone the (very fine, blonde) hairs on her legs.

And anyway, the Mail article is factually inaccurate (what a surprise!), as she clearly *hasn’t* forgotten to wax her legs – her legs are smooth from the knees down (which is known in the trade as a half-leg wax).

Ms Dion (like 95% of women out there*** I’d be willing to bet) has such fine hair on her thighs that she doesn’t see the point (or expense) in removing them because no one can notice anyway. Not until, that is, you shine a massive, bright light on them, shoot it in close up and then print it in a woman-hating, factually inaccurate, slow-news-day piece of crap.

Who gives a shit? Really?

***Incidentally, any one out there who *does* bother to shave/wax/whatever above their mid thighs, please get in touch.