I'm sure our memories must play tricks on us at this time of year. I say that because songs that have always seemed to be embedded in our consciousness as stone-cold Christmas classics, when you delve deeper, and from my own memory, weren't such massive songs during the festive period at all. And I can pinpoint when all this started happening: the run up to Christmas 1985 when Virgin/EMI released The Christmas Album (or The Christmas Tape, as it was in our house) all done under the Now! banner.
I mean, there were some bone fide yuletide tracks on there that did transcend the years and always seemed to chart on re-release. I'm talking about Slade, Wizzard, Bing Crosby etc but some of the others? Hmm, not so much.
Queen - Thank God It's Christmas. Reached no.21 in 1984. This was of course before they re-wrote their own history and played a make-or-break gig at Wembley Stadium on July 13th 1985.
Elton John -Step Into Christmas. Reached no.24 in 1973. A song I had never heard before that fateful Christmas in 1985. Now it's all over the place. I guess it keeps Elton in 'fruit and flowers' these days.
Kate Bush - December Will Be Magic Again. Wheezed its way to no.29 in 1980. A song written for her 1979 BBC Christmas Special. This was before she went down the dumper for a bit and made an album that sounded like King Crimson with a Fairlight.
Chris De Burgh - A Spaceman Came Travelling. Didn't chart on original release in 1975. I had heard this single before but only because we had a teacher at school who'd been a bit of a Head back in the day and used to start his year assemblies with a bit of rock music (on one occasion treating a load of bemused 1980s kids to Black Sabbath).
Beach Boys - Little Saint Nick. Didn't chart on original release. Something doesn't sit quite right with me when a band associated with California sun and the outdoor life sing about reindeer.
All those songs now seem as much a part of Christmas as mince pies, drinking too much and having to be nice to people. And the tracklisting of today's Now Christmas album just grows and grows. The edition in this house had grown to three CDs as at some point with a lot of artists realising how much the publishing on a Christmas track can be worth. Indeed, the most valuable song for non-Beatles royalties in Paul McCartney's catalogue is that ultimate in will-this-do? filler, Wonderful Christmastime. And what's on in the background while I'm writing this? Freeview Channel 88, the Now That's What I Call Christmas channel showing Pete Waterman's Christmas 1972-Now. The songs keep coming: East 17, Bo Selecta, Peter Kay, Steps, Jon By Jovi, Mariah Carey, Mickey Bubbles...
Yes, we all know about John Noakes, Simon Groom, Janet Ellis, Peter Duncan, Skelts and all but Blue Peter is still worth watching. Of course it's changed to fit with a modern audience (and is confident enough to gently take the piss out of itself) but it never forgets its core values. For many of us in the UK, along with Elizabeth II, BP is just about the only constant; one of the very, very few things we know have always been there throughout our lives.
Thursday's show, the last before Christmas, visited a tinsel factory, showed us how glass baubles are made and how Christmas jumpers are manufactured. But it was the last five minutes which, I'll be honest, brought a lump to my throat. They still have the same nativity scene, they still have the advent crown (nonnaked flames though), they still brought in the Salvation Army band, they still got the kids in to sing a rousing O Come All Ye Faithful. And at that point, I may have had something in my eye.
Wow, 2013, eh? Phew, what a year. Here's my round-up, it's been a long time since I've done one of these.
Albums of the Year:
Steven Wilson - The Raven That Refused to Sing and Other Stories. Just a superb LP. And it is an LP, something that demands to be listened to from start to finish. Imagine King Crimson with some ballads. No? Oh, okay, well it sounds good to me.
Public Service Broadcasting - Inform Educate Entertain. This project take the dialogue from old films and PIFs and puts them to music. Sound's rubbish? Nah, check this out.
Wolf People - Fain. This Bedfordshire quartet probably haven't heard any music recorded since 1970 or seen a film since Blood on Satan's Claw. Very, very English, er, psych-folk-prog.
Single of the Year:
The Maccabees - Pelican. I know it was originally released at the fag end of 2011, but it's a song it took me over a year to decide I liked. And when I decided I liked it, I decided I really liked it. They're one of those bands whom I have no desire to hear anything else by, I'd only be disappointed that it wouldn't be as good as Pelican (I put Death Cab for Cutie in the same category - they'll never top I Will Possess Your Heart). They won't be able to top this.
Gig of the Year:
Steven Wilson at the Royal Albert Hall. My wife and I had already seen Steven at the Manchester Academy in March, but this gig in October was quite, quite terrific. The band he assembles are all just on it - special praise for Kajagoogoo bassist Nick Beggs and former Zappa drummer Chad Wackerman - while the songs and the way they're presented are just sublime. An added bonus for this gig was that my wife managed to get us some excellent seats right near the stage (see photo). So good were the seats that VIP guests were sitting in front of us.
TV shows of the Year:
The Returned - Shows with subtitles, not usually my bag but the story here is all that matters. The Returned is about grief and missing people, something we've all experienced. I'm not going to complain about the ending like nearly everyone else, it could have stood as a stand alone series with that ending. Let's just hope they don't jump the shark in future series. Oh, and one of the lead actresses is rather lovely.
Toast of London - Just a wilfully daft comedy about a tosspot actor with Matt Berry. I loved it and am glad to see it's coming back for a second series after abysmal ratings (there are some tasteless people out there).
The Silent War - A late entry, this, part of BBC2's Cold War season. It's a documentary about the way submarines were used in the Cold War. A bit dry? You bet, but I love all this Mutually Assured Destruction stuff. And remember, DON'T DROP ANY SPANNERS.
Count Arthur Strong - Another wilfully daft comedy. You either love or hate Count Arthur Strong and it seems more people hate him. For me, this was just a delight. The episode set during a recording of a radio play really was superb, one of the funniest things on television all year.
Broadchurch - You've already read the superlatives. And it had a proper ending. I can't imagine what they'll do for series two though.
What Remains - This psychological murder mystery proves we can do this stuff as well as any foreign broadcaster. And, spoiler alert, I'm not holding my breath for series two.
Film of the Year:
Pfft, hardly been to the cinema. Here's what I've seen at the pictures: Rush, Alpha Papa. Yup.
Sightseers - probably released in 2012, but I saw it this year 'on demand'. An erotic odyssey to well-loved tourist spots in the north of England in a caravan goes horribly wrong...
Event of the Year:
Getting married! Yay! Believe the hype, it really is the happiest day of your life. I highly recommend it.
Anyway, that's it from me, have a good Christmas and I hope 2014 is good to you. I love you all and I'll leave you with the greatest Christmas song* ever. NO ARGUMENTS!
*Even though it's by a hoary old prog rocker who nobody likes
Well, that's Christmas over with for another year. Mine was, seemingly like everyone else's, quite quiet. What a shite year for festive telly though. I know people say that every year, but this year, Jesus, it was abysmal. Obviously your luck was running on empty if you don't like looking at David Tennant's hatchet fizzogg. He was never off - I saw him on, and immediately switched off: Never Mind the Buzzcocks, The Catherine Tate Show, QI, Alan Carr's crap chat vehicle and a load of other stuff I've forgotten about. I certainly didn't see him on that children's sci-fi drama thingy he does. Because it's for children. And I don't like sci-fi. And I don't like David Tennant.
Other Xmas TV lowlights (bear in mind I spent a lot of Christmas in other people's houses so didn't have a lot of choice in the televisual delights on offer):
The Catherine Tate Show nan thing. Get her off.
That Victoria Wood thing. Probably would have found it mildly amusing if I'd ever seen that Lark Rise to Cranford. But I haven't.
Ant and Dec's Christmas Show. No, you're not Morcambe and Wise. Especially when you're show just features a load of other ITV-promoted divvys.
The All Star Impressions Show. Where to start with this? Imagine the worst impressions you've ever seen multiplied by ten and done by 'some of Britain's favourite celebrities.' By 'Britain's favourite celebrities', they mean, for example, twat-in-chief Tony Blackburn doing Prince Charles, Chesney Hawks (that's right, Chesney Hawks, 'Britain's favourite celebrities' remember?) as Prince William and Mackenzie Crook as Albert Steptoe. I couldn't work out whether it was serious or not. And it was a joint venture by the production companies of Steve Coogan and Vic Reeves. There was one glimmer of hope in a sketch, with 'proper' impressionists, revolving around those warring Gallagher brothers appearing on Jeremy Kyle. Otherwise I had to keep checking to make sure it wasn't April 1st instead of December 26th.
All Star Mr and Mrs. This had Joan Collins who kept being described as 'a legend.' How is she a legend please? She was best known for appearing in B-Movies and for marrying Anthony Newley. Then she got her minge out in two films and went into Dynasty. That does not a legend make, in my book at least. The other 'stars' involved were a bit-part actor off of Coronation Street and someone I've forgotten.
The Royle Family. Had its day. I don't particularly want to see Ricky Tomlinson'sskidmarks on Christmas Day, thank you very much.
So, what did I enjoy?
Queen at HammersmithOdeon 1975. I'm not a massive Queen fan, and I certainly don't like anything they recorded after 1980, but this was rather good. Plus it's always fun looking back, isn't it? Especially as when this was recorded they were just breaking through, with Bohemian Rhapsody at no. 1. Watching the video for Bohemian Rhapsody, week in, week out, on Top of the Pops, is one of my earliest memories.
The Not the Nine O'Clock News documentary. I used to love the TV show and books when I was a kid. And who knew that Stephenson and Atkinson hated each others guts? Not I. Pity the 'classic' episode shown after was just a load of 'best bits' spliced together.
Wallace and Gromit in The Wrong Trousers. Never get tired of watching that.
Some Like it Hot.
Knowing Me Knowing Yule with Alan Partridge.
So there you go, a 34 year-old concert, a thing about a thirty year-old satirical TV show, a fifteen year-old kids animation, a fifteen year-old spoof chat show and a 50 year-old film. They don't make 'em like they used to, eh? The rest of the time I spent getting addicted to an Xbox game my sister bought me for Christmas. Who needs Catherine Tate when you can race a Bentley Speed 80 around Le Mans?
By the way, here's the first irritation of 2010: those two smug, 'look at us, aren't we beautiful?' idiots the Redknapps on that Thomas Cook advert. Where's my AK47?
Well another year over, and 2009 was a right old bag of shite: the death of a parent, a massive disappointment selling her house (thanks a bunch Ms fucking Miller of 15 Dunghill Mansions, Newark. You knew the circumstances under which we were selling the house, you sow) and then topped off nicely with a redundancy scare (I'm still in gainful employment, unlike forty of my ex-colleagues, poor sods). So it'll be a massive relief to see the back of it. I'm not normally one for New Year's Eve but I'm going to buy the biggest firework available to let off this Dec. 31st/Jan. 1st as a final 'piss off' to a shit year.
Anyway, I know I don't normally give much away on this blog, but I've been thinking about Mum and Dad a lot these past few days. Things reached a peak when I heard this on the radio last night. It's a song I remember from my childhood and surprised myself by knowing all the words. It's lovely.
Add to that all the Alan Bennett stuff that's been on telly lately (both Mum and Dad loved him, and as a tribute I'm going with sis to see one of his plays with Alison Steadman next year, which Mum said she'd liked to have seen), Ed Stewart promoting Junior Choice on Radio 2 ("'Ello darlin'!") a general air of melancholy and the fact we won't taste her trifle this Christmas has left me feeling incredibly sad. I daren't even watch that Oliver Postgate documentary that was on last night, I'll save that till after Crimbo, I think. Postgate's voice just transports me back to the front room of our 1930s three bed semi on Elm Avenue with Mum in the kitchen making something yummy. And don't even get me started on the organ, flute and Richard Baker intro to Mary, Mungo and Midge "A town is full of buildings..."
I'm not one to burst into tears - I'm a man after all, and not given to tears - but I think Christmas has highlighted the fact that I'm now, technically, an orphan. Boo-hoo for me.
Anyway, enough of the self-pity, which I normally hate, and may I wish you a Merry Christmas and a spiffing 2010. I'll see you on the other side, hopefully a bit more regularly than of late. Sorry this post's a bit depressing. To cheer you up have this Top Tip from Viz: "Former member of 10cc Lol Creme, don't sign your name at the end of text messages conveying bad news." Aah, LOL!
Have this for Christmas too, Mark Radcliffe always used to play it at Christmas and I love it.
...I've been reminded how shit this advert it. I seem to rememberblogging about the Iceland Christmas ad last year, and this year they've really surpassed themselves. For starters they've made all the food look completely unappetising, surely not the desired effect. Secondly, why are they still obsessed with prawns? Thirdly, how can Coleen Nolan push all this crap food when she's been banging on in the Daily Mirror all year about how to lose weight? Fourthly (is that a word?), why is everything miniaturised? Mini this, mini, that, mini the other. Is it so the mouth-breathers who buy this cack don't know how to eat with cutlery and so have to shove everything in whole? Fifthly (okay, that's definitelynot a word), why the aside about smoked salmon, as though it's some new innovation? Or is it because the people eating this shite regard smoked salmon as something a bit swish? I don't know why if that's the case, I can't stand the stuff. Sixthly, chocolate-covered frozen strawberries? What sort of sick mind came up with that? Seventhly, who'd like to give Coleen, Jason and that twat who says "Yer not kiddin'" a miniature vile of paraquat?
Hello, happy new year and all that bollocks. I suppose I'd better start easing my way back into this blogging thing. I'm back working shifts at work for the next few months and I'm trying not to get back addicted to the internet. Over Christmas I went for five days without switching on the PC, which was quite a liberating experience. I only switched it on after five days to check email and download some music. Mind you, having said all that I'll probably end up posting three times a day, or something ridiculous.
Anyway, telly over Christmas was largely crap. I happened to see the Christmas Day Doctor Who. Oh dear, that's an hour of my life I won't get back. I'm tried with Doctor Who, I really have, but that'll probably be the last time I intentionally watch it. And those Wallace and Gromit Christmas idents on BBC1 started way too early and went on for way too long. Some highlights: The Peter Serafinowicz Show - I recall blogging about his 2007 series being slightly disappointing. The special over Christmas was a joy though, every sketch a winner. Especially the David Attenborough spoof that had a spider that made it's web from tinsel and had a bumble bee on its way to a Christmas party trapped in it. Oh, and a stoned Terry Wogan doing Points of View. The Generation Game 1973 Christmas Special - very funny, but not just in a 'ooh look at the haircuts!' kind of way. Forsyth at the top of his game. And you can't argue with a show that features Frankie Howerd pulling his pants out of his arse crack and saying 'Let me get myself comfy', that horrid old witch Fanny Craddock and a fella who does the old tablecloth trick. Top prizes too - weighing scales for a lady, a drill for a man, an electric toothbrush for a winning finalist and a Trinitronportable telly it took two blokes to carry out (the screen was a bout 14" but the cabinet was a cumbersome mahogany affair).
And I have to say that I've enjoyed BBC4's short Prog Rock this last weekend. What a refreshing change it made to see a serious non-sneary or tongue-in-cheek documentary on the subject. I know it's not the easiest music in the world to love and I also know it sometimes took itself way too seriously, but it deserves recognition. Three minor quibbles with it: 1) I think they should have got Peter Gabriel and Robert Fripp to be talking heads. Isn't it funny how Fripp allowed himself to be interviewed by GMTV when his missus was on I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! but not when someone wants to ask him about music? 2) Too much about ELP. A dreadful band, even though Lake and Emerson's previous bands were shit hot. Old roadies' adage: "There are three things you don't need on tour - earache, toothache and Greg Lake" 3) All the previous Music Britannia docos have bought come right up to date. Watching that you'd be forgiven for thinking it ended in 1976 - wither Radiohead, Muse, Porcupine Tree, Pure Reason Revolution, Diagonal etc?
I went out on the works do mentioned here on Saturday night. What a wash out, only four of us turned up, and one of those wasn't drinking. I've never been so depressed in all my life, well, not since Score with Ray Stubbs earlier in the evening.
I don't know whether I'm out of practise or what, but I can't seem to drink with the same amount of gusto which I once did. Must be my age I suppose, coupled with the fact that if I go out these days it tends to be to a restaurant, cinema or to see a band. Drinking pints of lager doesn't appeal to me in the same way it once did. Besides, drinking lots of beer these days tends to give me a wicked hangover; which is why I never moved off the settee until midday yesterday. I woke up with what Billy Connolly describes as 'feeling like you're wearing an internal balaclava'. I think I saw the whole of Something For the Weekend with that cock Tim Lovejoy.
The reason for the various no-shows were that a few of them thought the X Factor final was more inviting than coming out with me on a wet Saturday night. What's wrong with these people? I'd rather have a lobotomy than watch the X Factor, and I'm great company in da pub. I hate that show and I hate Simon Cowell - it's not about music it's about filling Cowell's bank account. I know I shouldn't be bothered about the Christmas no.1 but I am, and I'm getting sick of his merry band of mediocre knobsacks laying siege to the charts every Christmas. It almost makes me want Terry Wogan or Peter Kay to beat that song to no.1.
And have you heard Hallelujah? It's rotten, of course. There's a line near the start 'You don't care for music, do yer?' No, Simon Cowell doesn't, does he? They've put fucking drums and a bastard gospel choir on it. And why do people think that all those vocal histrionics add something to the song? It's all technique and no soul (A bit like a pathetic prog metal band I know called Dream Theater. "Whoah, dude, look how fast I can shred my axe!"). Did I mention that I hate Simon Cowell? I'm not a violent man, but I'd love to punch him in his Botoxed, smirking face. Repeatedly.
... that you say, 'what's getting on my wick at the minute'? Well, I'll tell you:
Terry Wogan and AledJones's Christmas single - Two of my least favourite people singing one of my least favourite songs. Is it the law that all charity singles have to be shite? Can't somebody make a decent one? Apart from Mark Radcliffe's take on Right Said Fred and Alex Lester's My Brother, of course.
Iceland adverts - I know this is like shooting fish in a barrel as they feature Katona (a woman who quite clearly needs some professional help) and Nolan, but why does their food always look so deeply unappetising? Prawn Spoons anyone? Thought not. They're seemingly obsessed with prawns.
'Quirky' indie rock bands - Step forward The Wombats, Scouting for Girls, The Hoosiers etc. They're like A Tribe of Toffs for the early twenty first century. The sort of people who say 'Ooh, I'm a bit mad, me'. Go away.
Steve Wright's Old Woman - There's so much wrong with the Steve Wright show that I won't go into all of it, but I'll start at Old Woman. Old Woman is one of his ker-azy afternoon posse, a woman who is made to read things out even though she quite clearly has trouble forming her own sentences, let alone reading. Is also paid to laugh like a drain at anything 'Wrighty' says. I once heard that it is actually Wright's mother.
KirstyMacColl and The Pogues - Regular readers will know that both the acts share a place in my heart, but Fairytale of New York gets on my pip. It's the only Christmas song that people who like to think they're still vaguely 'with it' own up to liking. The sort of people who rush out and buy Coldplay albums. From Waitrose. It's okay to like Christmas songs like Greg Lake, Mike Oldfield, Gary Glitter etc.
Carol Vorderman - Sick of hearing her drone on about being dropped from Countdown. It must've been terrible for her to hear the news that her pay was being cut to a mere £100,000 pa just for picking a few letters out of a box and doing a quick bit of mental arithmetic. Never mind, she could always get herself one of those debtbuster loans she's been hawking on telly to life's less fortunates. Probably not as nice as she makes out she is.
People who say 'a few quick hellos' on the radio - I like listening to Ken Bruce's Popmaster, but everyday you get at least one contestant who likes to say 'a few quick hellos' to 'my lovely wife Joannne - she won't be listening 'cos she's at work but hello anyway - my kids Jordan and Gemma, Dave and all the lads at work - Oi oi! - Mum, Dad, Joanne's mum and dad, everyone at The Cock Inn, the lads on the football team and anyone else who knows me'. I know a lot of people, and I'll tell you this, there's some of them I don't like, so why would I want to say 'hello' to them via the radio? And why do these people think that millions of people up and down the country are interested in hearing a load of random names read out? If they wanted to hear their name on the radio they should have entered Popmaster themselves. In fact, you can almost hear the relief in Ken's voice when a contestant just signs off with a 'goodbye' without 'a few quick hellos'. DJs, please stop people saying 'a few quick hellos'.
Can you guess what that is in the picture? That's right, it's a box of fast food-shaped Christmas tree ornaments. Do you know any morbidly obese people who would like those on their tree? If so, pop along to your local Homebase store. Hurry, only while stocks last.
Sorry I haven't posted much this week, but I've been knackered and not very well; I'm getting too old for all this burning the candle at both ends mallarkey. No, on second thoughts, I'm not sorry, it's my blog and I'll post when I want to. Although I doubt anyone comes here with baited breath to read my latest pronouncements.
Anyway, here's your Friday Lazy You Tube embed. I've been trying to work out for the last 26 years whether this song is a work of genius or a load of old bollocks. See what you think.
There are certain things that, over the course of this last weekend I know I'll never understand. The first thing is the appeal of the film, Mamma Mia. You know the one, based on the music of Abba? I was perusing the female members of my family's Christmas lists over the weekend, and every one of them (out of four) had the Mamma Mia DVD on there. Now, I'm not one to start slagging off Abba, they did some good pop songs, and they did some bad pop songs, but why would you want to see those songs in the setting of a film? Now, the film is obviously very popular; I was told on Saturday that it's only just stopped being shown at my local multiplex, and even then that was because of the impending DVD release (handily in time for Christmas). The film was released in UK cinemas on July 10th. So it's been showing continually for a quarter of a year. Now I'm not one to discourage people from going to the pictures, but is there nothing else that these women (and I'm assured from those who've seen it that the audience is predominantly female) would like to see instead? I was rather looking forward to catching Shane Meadows's film Somers Town when it was released on August 22nd, but guess what? None of the cinemas round here were showing it. Which is a shame when you think that Meadows lives fifteen miles from where I sit now. I suppose the screens were blocked up with Meryl Streep doing the splits and Pierce Brosnan being out of tune. Never mind, I'm sure that Bjorn and Benny are currently sitting on their own private island somewhere lighting handmade Cuban cigars with high denomination banknotes, while a convoy of trucks pull up outside their homes in Sweden and deposit huge wodges of cash down a chute into their cellars. And good for them.
The next thing I know I'll never understand is the appeal of the mobile phone. I know they're incredibly handy things to have, and now I can have a camera with me wherever I go. The thing is, I was in a phone shop on Saturday buying a phone for my mother. She needs a simpler one to the one she's got because at the minute, instead of receiving calls, she starts taking accidental photographs whenever someone rings her. Well, I was just stood looking at the display to work out my options when I was more or less kicked out of the way by three teenage girls. One of them said "Yeah, this is what Darryl's buying me for Christmas. It's a lovely phone the LG GS666X-WANK ain't it?" A beautiful phone? Now, I like things that are aesthetically pleasing, but I'd never go as far as to call a mobile phone 'lovely'. It's a tool for communicating with, nothing more, nothing less. My boss often tells me that people at work who have the latest phone probably have absolutely nothing else in their lives apart from a fancy phone. For once I think he might be right. You see, when I was a kid the things I drooled over were things to play music on. The more graphic equalisers the better. And if not stereos, it was poring over the browser in the local record shops looking at what records you couldn't afford out of your paper round wages. Who knows, in twenty odd years time those teenagers might be blogging about why the kids of today are obsessed with teleportation devices, in their day it was mobile phones.
Stop press: Another thing I don't get, is the obsession with Diane Keen's tits. I get more visitors to this site looking for Diane Keen's tits that anything else. I wouldn't mind, but they're nothing to write home about.
That time is nearly upon us again. That's right, I know it's only mid November but plans for Christmas are being made already. I mention this because my boss came to me today to discuss whether our department should go out for a Christmas drink. I normally hate going out with workmates; I don't go out with my 'proper' friends enough, so why would I choose to go out with a bunch of people I can just about tolerate? The last time I went out on a 'works do' in 2004, the guy who worked the opposite shift to me threatened me with 'I'm going to kick your fucking head in' for no reason whatsoever. Oh, how we laughed on the Monday after when he claimed not to have remembered any of it. Not. Personally, I think he might have wanted to say that for a while but the drink loosened his tongue. Perhaps he wanted to take it out on me because I went on my own and he took his wife who had a face like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle. Anyway, I always said that that was the last time. I now think my boss feels as though enough time has elapsed - and the head-kicking guy has since left - to suggest another pre-Christmas snifter. I told him to see what other people on the department thought. And because they're all young and full of spunk they all said 'yes!'. Bah! That means I'll have to go, if only to show how miserable the only guy older than me on the department is for not going. I still like to be down wi' kids, see? And they've convinced me by saying that it's the office staff's night out on the same day, so Knockers O'Neill and the Scottish Siren will be out too. Woo, and indeed, hoo! I'm not looking forward to it though, they'll all want to go in the pubs I hate. You know the ones, the ones where you feel like Tommy because you can neither see, hear or make yourself heard. And there's bound to be the local market square heroes out looking for a scrap. I'm running if it all kicks off, I don't want a shiner for Christmas Day.
Can I just say that I enjoyed a marathon Charlie Brooker's Dead Set the other night. I'm not usually in to horror but it was rather good. It was about zombies taking over Britain and the action was set in the Big Brother house. Believe me, nothing is more satisfying than seeing Davina McCall get a lamp stand shoved through her head. I also love the fictional idea of some mysterious plague or virus wiping out huge numbers of the population. Which is why I've always had a soft spot for 28 Days Later, The Day of the Triffids, Z for Zachariahand The Stand. I think living on an island nation it doesn't leave much to the imagination to think that something like that may actually occur.
And, as it's Friday, and I've mentioned the 'C' word, you can have this:
