"Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself"

So, dear blog reader, this week - like last week - has seen only but one thing being talked about. It's been effing hot in Great Britain. And, elsewhere, admittedly, but mainly Britain. You might have noticed. Johnny Foreigner is, of course, used to the sweltering tropics. According to Noël Coward, anyway and he should know, he was a very well-educated man. Usually, summer in the UK tends to consist of about four days in July and one nice weekend in August and that's it. But, this year has been an exception. And then, just when you thought it couldn't, possibly, get any hotter, it only went and did. Record-breakingly so, as it happens.

It was more hot, in fact, than 1976 - which was so memorably hot that people still, to this day, use it as a yardstick of what is hot and what is not. There were 'hot spots' popping up everywhere. Even in the most unlikely places ... like The Frozen North, for instance. As you might expect, the BBC News website were straight on the case with this piece, entitled UK Heatwave: Why Is It So Hot? Err ... because it's a heatwave, possibly? Just a wild stab in the dark there. Something to pop into your collective toaster and see if it pops up brown. Services on the Tyne & Wear network were suspended after 'extreme heat' caused overhead wires to sag. And, we all know, there's nowt worse than saggy wires, dear blog reader. The Gruniad Morning Star tackled the big questions of the day for their Middle Class hippy Communist readers. The Daily Scum Mail found something to whinge about for their odious right-wing jackbooted bullyboy thug readers to gurn into their breakfast cereal about and the Sun used it as an excuse to print more pictures than usual of ladies in bikinis. At which saucy malarkey, Extinction Rebellion really got shirty and threw bricks at their windows. Very adult, guys.

Metro, meanwhile, had already advised ladies (in 2019) not to put ice lollies up their vagina to cool down. 'Here's a quick recap of things that don't belong inside your vagina: say no to parsley, aubergine bath bombs and garlic cloves,' wrote one Almara Abgarian. 'While you're at, keep your genitals away from vacuum cleaners, too.' Sensible advised this blogger reckons but then, as he personally doesn't have a functioning uterus, he suspects the article in question wasn't written for him. Then, dear blog reader, apparently London spontaneously combusted. No one expected that. In fact, all one could do in an effort to forget about the searing, stifling heat was to drink lots of cool beverages and watch a repeat of the best episode of The Professionals, Discovered In A Graveyard on ITV4. (Though, tragically, not one of the genuinely worst episodes of the same series, When The Heat Cools Off.)

Or, a strip-schedule rebroadcast of the first series of True Detective on Sky Atlantic.

Or Talking Pictures' starting a long-overdue broadcast of the marvellous 1978 gangster series, Out (starring Tom Bell). Or 1969's The Mind Of Mister JG Reeder (with Hugh Burden and Virginia Stride). Or a particularly fine 1971 episode of The Rivals Of Sherlock Holmes - A Message From The Deep Sea - featuring John Neville, Bernard Archard, James Cossins (see below) and Paul Darrow. They're really very good, those chaps and ladies at Talking Pictures.

We shall be returning to the unseasonable, vicious heat at various point later in this From The North bloggerisationisms update, dear blog readers, just so you're warned in advance. Because, we're British and we talk about the weather all the time, didn't you know?

But, just before we leave the subject for now, here is From The North's Thought For The Day.

This week, dear blog reader, yer actual Keith Telly Topping achieved what may be, in his own small and sad existence, one of the great moments of this blogger's life; getting an e-mail read out on From The North's favourite podcast Kermode & Mayo's Take. This blogger can now die happy. But, he'd rather not just yet as he's still got stuff to do. For those who are interested, the subject of the e-mail was a - really ill thought-out - whinge about the previous week's review of The Railway Children Return. Allow this blogger to elaborate. 'Heritage listener and level two cycling proficiency badge (1973). Second-time correspondent (but, the first one didn't get read out so, it's probably best to ignore that),' this blogger began, promisingly. 'I have a (very) small complaint to make about last week's show, specifically the several references to Lionel Jeffries' 1970 version of The Railway Children being "the original." This was understandable on the part of Sheridan Smith, perhaps, but Mark (despite his long-held former TV aversion) and, to a lesser extent Simon, should both know better. There were at least three BBC television adaptations of E Nesbit's novel - one in 1951, another in 1957 (starring Anneke Wills) and a really famous and very successful one from 1968 featuring Jenny Agutter as Bobbie. Indeed, it's probably fair to say that Lionel's film adaptation is a remake of that and largely happened directly because of the success of the TV version. There was also, as Mark noted, a subsequent TV adaptation (in 2000) in which Jenny played the role of the mother.'

The pair, perhaps rightly, weren't having it and gave this blogger a right good verbal scolding for being such a spotty pedant. Fantastic! This blogger has now been spanked on-air by Mark and Simon. he feels thoroughly 'dealt with' and can definitely die happy. It was a pity that the second part of this blogger's e-mail didn't get read out though, as it contained something of a rationale for this blogger's rank stroppiness. 'Sorry to be such a negative-Nancy about this - very minor - issue but it's a bit of a bug-bear of mine. That people tend to regard the first version of any text with which they are familiar as "the original" ... A similar situation occurred with the BBC's recent (and very good) adaptation of Worzel Gummidge. The Interweb was full of people whinging (before it had even been broadcast) that it wouldn't be as good as "the original"; by which, one presumes, they meant the 1970s Jon Pertwee/Una Stubbs version. They were seemingly unaware that this was, in itself, a remake of a novel that had previously been adapted by the BBC twice in the 1950s.' This blogger concluded on a more upbeat note. 'Love the show, Steve. Hello to Jason, up with the Blue-Haired Feminists and down with ... "that sort of thing."'

Anyway, dear blog reader, things we learned from this week's Kermode & Mayo's Take. Number one - Simon can't pronounce 'Anneke' correctly! One is sure From The North favourite Anneke her very self, would be shocked - and stunned - by this revelation. She certainly looks it in this photo. 

Simon, mate, here's a record you should, definitely, be playing on All Hits Radio. 

Next ... Yer actual Christopher Eccleston is 'officially' - that officially - returning to Doctor Who. Albeit, not on TV, so don't get too excited. Big Ecc confirmed his involvement in the Doctor Who sixtieth-anniversary celebration next year. Again, just not on television. Media watchers already knew that Chris had worked on some Big Finish audio dramas. During an appearance at FedCon, Eccleston said: 'I did something very special for the sixtieth anniversary and, for me, it was all about working with this incredible actor, an incredible human being called David Warner.' From The North favourite Warner has previously appeared in several Doctor Who audio dramas including Sympathy For The Devil where he played The Doctor. Eccleston has previously said it was 'very doubtful' that he would return to Doctor Who on television. Sharing photos of his many roles throughout his career on Instagram, Christopher included a shot from Doctor Who and wrote: 'The Doctor. I loved playing Him. Much love to Ncuti Gatwa.'

Returning Doctor Who showrunner Russell Davies has commissioned a 'special behind-the-scenes series' ahead of the debut of new Doctor, Ncuti Gatwa, according to reports. The BBC Three Doctor Who spin-off will be titled Doctor Who: Unleashed and will give faithful viewers 'a sneak-peek' at the filming process, beginning with the sixtieth anniversary episode next year and the return of David Tennant and Catherine Tate, according to the Daily Mirra. Who, let's remember, were a far more reliable source of news stories when they used to hack people's phones. An alleged 'source' allegedly told the Mirra that Davies is 'aware Doctor Who fans can never get enough content' and that he thought 'the time was right to bring back a behind-the-scenes show which will document their comebacks and show how the special was made.' Said in that atypical tabloid 'real people don't talk like that' way, of course. Doctor Who: Unleashed will, apparently, 'be similar in format' to Doctor Who Confidential, the behind-the-scenes sister show which ran on Beeb3 from 2005 to 2012. Although quite why the Radio Times - which used to be run by adults - reports this revelation with some degree of surprise is unknown. How different can one behind-the-scenes documentary series be from another? Doctor Who: Unleashed will reportedly continue alongside the next full series of Doctor Who.

From The North's congratulations go to the Labour MP Steve Reed (Croydon North) who said during an interview with Sky News that the current Tory leadership race is 'like an episode of Doctor Who.' One where Boris Johnson may be about to regenerate into something even more horrible. If that's even possible. 'It's a bit like an episode of Doctor Who where he's going to regenerate into a new character. We just don't know yet whether Boris Johnson is going to come back reincarnated as Rishi [Sunak] or Liz [Truss]. But they're both responsible for every single economic error that has been made under the Johnson government.' A good point, well made by the Honourable Member and, extra bonus points for getting in a Doctor Who reference. If he'd further added that whatever happens, we're looking at a potential remake of The Twin Dilemma he'd have gone even higher in this blogger's estimation.

According to the My London news site, Rishi Sunak wore a pair of four hundred and ninety quid Prada suede shoes on visit to a building site in the capitol as 'the millionaire ex-Chancellor showed off his fortune with his latest fashion choice.' Oh, he doesn't want to do that, dear blog reader. They'll get all dusty and they're an absolute bugger to clean. He might even have to buy a new pair. And, they're quite expensive. 

The BBC is to make 'a vast portion' of its archive available to the public as part of its centenary celebrations. The content will be made available on the BBC Rewind website as part of a string of events to mark the corporation's one hundredth birthday. It is set to be the largest release of digital archive content in BBC history. The corporation said it would contain 'tens of thousands of audio-visual recordings,' many from news output and documentaries. 'They reflect the life and events of the UK spanning decades, telling the story of the nation through its people,' the corporation said. BBC Rewind will be categorised by the nations and regions of the UK and contain 'many emotional and powerful stories, many of which have not been viewed since their original broadcast.' The BBC Rewind portal was first launched in Northern Ireland in October 2020, making archive content from Northern Ireland from the 1950s, 60s and 70s publicly accessible for the first time. A new-look website will feature over thirty thousand pieces of uncovered content, with the oldest material dating back to the late 1940s. Presenters including Sir David Attenborough and Moira Stewart will feature among the thousands of videos on offer, as well as figures such as the Queen and Sir Paul McCartney (a former member of The Be-Atles, a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them). The footage available will include interviews with 1960s schoolchildren, who provide their 'refreshing, funny and uncomplicated observations on marriage, religion and work.' Other highlights include the story of five hundred people who - twenty years after World War Two had ended - were still living in an immigration camp in Devon, mixing little with the outside world. In the Northern Ireland collection, Gloria Hunniford will be seen in one of her first TV jobs as roving reporter alongside videos of Liam Neeson long before he became a Hollywood star, plus footage of sports stars Dame Mary Peters and Martin O'Neill in their prime. Meanwhile, the famous faces in the Wales collection will include Sir Tom Jones and a Siân Phillips Welsh language piece from 1959 which shows a day in her life as a young actress in London. In Scotland, the BBC Rewind team has brought together a collection of films detailing the social history of the country, including the Island of Soay residents being relocated to Mull in 1953 and the women of Campbeltown taking part in 'a broom throwing competition' in 1963. Over the coming months, specially selected content from the website will feature in reports for the BBC's national and regional news and current affairs programmes, providing glimpses back in time for a wider audience. 'As we celebrate one hundred years of the BBC, we're opening up our unique and deeply valuable archive, an important part of the nation's collective memory,' said James Stirling, executive editor of BBC 100. 'By breathing new life into stories which have laid dormant for years, audiences will be able to discover recordings which can help us all learn more about who we are and where we're from.' Events marking one hundred years of the broadcaster are being held throughout the year, with a raft of special programmes already announced. David Dimbleby's BBC: A Very British History will be broadcast later this year, former Blue Peter presenter Konnie Huq will present a celebration of children's programmes, while Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse will reunite for 'a humorous look at the corporation's history.'

There's a fine, very wide-ranging interview with From The North favourite Julian Glover by the Gruniad Morning Star's Zoe Williams which you can check out here, dear blog reader.

The Gruniad was also responsible for an excellent piece on the making of the two Amicus Dalek movies in the 1960s, containing many previously unpublished on-location photographs.

Repetition of long-since disproved Urban Myths can sometimes turn up in the most unlikely places, dear blog reader. A fine example - this blogger has recently been reading From The North favourite Ian Ogilvy's 2016 autobiography, Once A Saint: An Actor's Memoir. And, it's really rather good, as you would expect from a thoroughly top bloke like Ian. It's very well-written, funny and has lots of good stories about his friend Michael Reeves and Ian's time on, for example, Matthew Hopkins - Witchfinder General, The Sorcerers, I, Claudius, Return Of The Saint et cetera. There's also a great story which isn't exactly new - it was previously alluded to during Ian's appearance on This Is Your Life in 1979. It concerns Ian's time at RADA in the early 1960s when he played drums in a rock and/or roll covers band which also contained his friend and fellow soon-to-be-famous actor, another From The North favourite the late and much-missed Nicky Henson. They called themselves The Wombats (or, sometimes, Nicky Henson & The Sensational Wombats!) and they played, according to Once A Saint, mainly at trendy student parties and college balls (although, Ian notes very proudly, they did once support The Springfields - and Norman Vaughan! - at Bournemouth's Winter Gardens). The story that Nicky Henson told on This Is Your Life was that one evening, probably around late 1962, they had been playing in a pub and had been approached by a man who asked them if they had a manager. He said that he had recently started his own management company and had a small stable of bands including one who, he claimed, were starting to make a bit of a name for themselves. Nicky, Ian and their bandmates, John Murray and Sean Brosnan, said no, they were all going to be famous actors and this rock and roll lark was just a hobby in their spare time and helped to supplement their income as poor students. 'Of course,' Nicky Henson told Eamonn Andrews with some glee, 'the man was called Brian Epstein and the band who were starting to make a bit of a name for themselves were The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them).' In Once A Saint Ian tells, broadly, the same story with a few extra little details, like describing his first impression of Eppy as 'a small, weedy young man.' Anyway, it's a great tale and it's almost certainly true given that we now have it from two different sources. However, Ian then rather spoils the pudding with the following claim: 'Had we signed with Brian Epstein, I wouldn't have lasted long. Pete Best of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) was at least a proper drummer and he was fired in favour of Ringo Starr, who some say wasn't. John Lennon, it was rumoured, was one. When asked if he thought Ringo was the best drummer in the world, Lennon is supposed to have replied "Fuck off - he wasn't even the best drummer in The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them)' [Once A Saint, page 107]. Except, of course, that John Lennon never said that (though, it is true to say that he was, indeed, rumoured to have said that; almost exclusively by people who haven't got the faintest bloody clue what they're talking about). As mentioned on this blog on a couple of previous occasions (here, for example) this is, in fact, an Urban Myth, perpetuated by morons. There is even a page about it at the fact-checking website, snopes.com. The Be-Atles' (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) historian and biographer From The North favourite Mark Lewisohn has done extensive research on this alleged 'quote' and has been unable to trace any reference to John (or Paul or George for that matter) ever saying it or anything even remotely like it. All three former Be-Atles have been, whenever asked, extraordinarily complementary and supportive of their bandmate's abilities both as a drummer and as a human being. For example, the previously mentioned Snopes piece quotes, extensively, from Lennon's 1980 interview with Playboy: 'Ringo was a star in his own right in Liverpool before we even met. He was a professional drummer who sang and performed and had "Ringo Starr-time" in one of the top groups in Britain but especially in Liverpool [Rory Storm & The Hurricanes] before we even had a drummer. So Ringo's talent would have come out one way or the other ... I don't know what he would have ended up as, but whatever that spark is in Ringo that we all know but can't put our finger on ... whether it is acting, drumming or singing ... there is something in him that is projectable and he would have surfaced with or without The Be-Atles (a popular beat comb of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) ... I think Ringo's drumming is under-rated the same way Paul's bass playing is under-rated.' For a while it was widely believed that the origin of the 'not the best drummer in The Be-Atles (a popular beat comb of the 1960s, you might've heard of them)' myth came from a joke told by the Birmingham comedian Jasper Carrott on his BBC Saturday night stand-up show Carrott's Lib around 1982 to 1983 or the slightly later sequel, Carrott Confidential (1987 to 1989). This blogger believes that Keith Telly Topping his very self may have been the first published source to, unsuccessfully, attempt to debunk this myth in his 2005 book Do You Want To Know A Secret?: A Fab Anthology Of Beatles Facts, mainly because he had remembered Carrott telling the joke in the 1980s and thinking at the time it was funny, if a bit cruel (and, not even close to being accurate). Mark Lewisohn, when writing the first volume of his acclaimed and spectacularly in-depth Be-Atles biography, Tune In (2013 - fifteen hundred pages long and it only goes up to the end of 1962!), contacted Jasper Carrott's office and was assured that this was, indeed, a joke created by one of his team of writers. More recent research has thrown up a slightly earlier variant of the same joke, from a sketch on the 1981 Radio 4 comedy series Radio Active. It is, of course, possible that it wasn't original even then but the one thing which does appear absolutely clear is that it didn't originate with something said by any of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them). Never was there a finer example of the age-old truism that if a sentence includes the words 'it is rumoured', it's almost certainly bollocks. Entertaining bollocks, perhaps, but bollocks nonetheless.

In the last From The North bloggerisationisms update, this blogger mentioned spending a thoroughly splendid afternoon and early evening last week hanging out with his good and lovely fiends Mick The Mod Snowden and his good lady, Cath. During the course of a lengthy - and, this blogger feels, productive - few hours of catching up in The Bacchus and then having a nice meal across the road in Pani's, this blogger mentioned in passing that he had once trod the boards at Stockton's The Globe Theatre (when we were doing Monopolise several years ago). And, as a consequence, Keith Telly Topping had played the same venue as The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) and The Rolling Stones (another popular beat combo of the 1960s). And, many other popular beat combos too. This blogger has, in fact, dined out on that particular story for years, dear blog reader. However, Mick felt that the dates involved didn't quite add up and suggested that, actually, Keith Telly Topping and his fellow Monopolisers (Alfie and Mark), must have actually presented the musical theatre triumph that was Monopolise at another Stockton On Tees venue, mostly likely The Arc Theatre. 'From The North's Stockton correspondent feels duty bound to confirm that Stockton's Globe Theatre closed in 1990 before it reopened last year,' Mick wrote on this blogger's Facebook page the morning after the rock and/or roll jigg the night before. 'So the likelihood is that you and Alfie performed at The Arc. Take heart. Despite the fact that this means you have not trod the same boards as The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) and The Stones, you have trod the same boards as the following artistes: Rob Lloyd & The Nightingales; Edwin Starr; Martha Reeves & The Vandellas; Bruce Foxton (and the rest of From The Jam); Glen Tilbrook; Half Man Half Biscuit; Toyah Wilcox; Doctor John Cooper Clarke and, of course, yours truly (in a series of 'comedy' sketch shows).' HMHB?! 'That's miles better than a popular beat combo of the 1960s (you might've heard of them). I am satisfied,' this blogger noted, made-up at having learned that he once trod the same boards as The Godlike Genius of Nigel Blackwell.

Two small additional points need to be made at this juncture, however. Firstly, whenever The Be-Atles played rock and/or roll Stockton, something world-shattering seemed to happen. Their two jiggs at the Teeside venue were on, respectively 22 November 1963 the very night that John Kennedy (a popular President of the United States of America, you might've heard of him) got himself shot. By the second gunman on the Grassy Knoll. Probably. And, on 15 October 1964. The second occasion was General Erection day in the UK which the Labour Party narrowly won ending thirteen years of Tory ineptitude. Also, Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev was deposed and China became the world's third nuclear power with their first atomic test. And all because The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) were playing Stockton On Tees. And, being asked some appallingly inane questions by some plank from Tyne Tees Television for the next day's North East Newsview.

Second point. When this blogger was fourteen in 1977 his school choir (or which he was, briefly, a member before his voice went all 'orrible) took part in 'an evening of musical entertainment' at the world famous Newcastle City Hall. So, this blogger has, indeed, trod the same boards as The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) and The Rolling Stones (another popular beat combo of the 1960s). Plus - and the following list is not even close to being all-inclusive - David Bowie & The Spiders From Mars, The Who, The Kinks, The Animals, The Small Faces, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Pink Floyd, The Move, Amen Corner (the latter four all on the same bill, 4 December 1967), Led Zeppelin, Elton John, Roxy Music, Slade, Lindisfarne, Paul McCartney & Wings, Thin Lizzy, Hawkwind, The Jam, The Smiths, Elvis Costello & The Attractions, The Teardrop Explodes ... and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. But, reluctantly, we won't hold that against them. So, Mick The Mod Snowden, whaddya think about that, then?

A few weeks ago, this blogger was watching - as he usually does - Talking Pictures' Tuesday evening re-run of Van Der Valk (the original series, with Barry Foster rather than the flawed-but-interesting Twenty First Century adaptation with Marc Warren). This particular episode, A Rose From Mister Reinhart, featured James Cossins as the guest villain. James Cossins who also appeared in that episode of The Rivals Of Sherlock Holmes mentioned earlier. This blogger will not be particularly surprised if dear blog readers, even the high-ranking tellyphiles amongst you, don't immediately recognise the name James Cossins though this blogger is sure you will recognise his boat race. He was one of those great British character actors who seems to have appeared in everything. In his case, he tended to get cast quite a lot as rather blustering military, ministerial or civil service types or as judges (a particular speciality in his case). In a long and distinguished career, he appeared in everything from Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads? to The Sweeney and Citizen Smith to Z-Cars. Dear blog readers may know him best, as his Wikipedia page notes, 'as the abrupt, bewildered Mister Walt in the Fawlty Towers episode The Hotel Inspectors and as Mister Watson, the frustrated Public Relations training course instructor, in an episode of Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em.' Truth be told, this blogger - who is usually rather good at being able to identify, at a glance, British character actors of the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies (though, nowhere near as good as some of this blogger's beast fiends) - saw James Cossins and his reaction was, 'Oh, it's ... it's ... you know, him.' Followed, soon afterwards, by 'is it Clifford Rose?' No. 'Is it Michael Sheard?' No. This blogger did, eventually, get the name correct - and, with considerable pride, he did so without resorting to waiting until the end credits for revelation or, worse, checking out IMDB mid-episode. The story became an amusing anecdote to be related when his blogger had lunch with his fiend Young Malcolm some weeks ago. We move forward, now, to last week's episode of Van Der Valk, Face Value (they're into the 1977 series by now so Piet's wife, Arlette, has regenerated from Susan Travers into Joanna Durham) and, bugger me wouldn't you just know it, both Clifford Rose and Michael Sheard rocked up in the same episode. Proof Keith Telly Topping supposes, that if you wait around long enough, you'll discover that everybody has been in everything.

We return now, dear blog reader, to what appears to be from the correspondence this blogger has been receiving of late, the most popular part of From The North. Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty One (in a series that'll go on until this blogger gets bored with it): Vanessa Shaw: 'Come on Jason, lets have some of this health food.' Robin Askwith: 'There's nothing healthier than... sex.' Vanessa Shaw: 'Let's save it for after dinner!' Horror Hospital.

Incidentally, dear blog reader, did you know that the band Mystic, who appear near the beginning of Horror Hospital performing a song called 'Mark Of Death, were actually the late-1960s psychedelic group Tangerine Peel (five singles on three different labels - none of them hits - and then one LP on RCA circa 1970). However, the cross-dressing frontman of Mystic was not a member of the group, he was played by the film's co-writer, Alan Watson.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Two: Malcolm McDowell: 'What's going to happen to me? Will I come out the same as I went in?' Graham Crowden: 'Not the same. Better!' O Lucky Man! And, before anyone says 'that's not a horror film. Lindsay Anderson didn't make horror films,' O Lucky Man! has got a sodding Manpig in it. This blogger rests his case.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Three: Clare Sutcliffe: 'What's The Pope got against the pill?' I Start Counting. And that is just about the only daft thing in David Greene's twenty four-carat 1970 masterpiece, a particular favourite of all of us here at From The North.

That said, The Divine Goddess Jenny Agutter was sixteen when I Start Counting was produced, playing the spunky fourteen year old heroine, Wynne. Hang on, dear blog reader, using the words 'Jenny Agutter' and 'spunky' in the same sentence feels all kinds of wrong. Anyway, this blogger isn't sure whether it's because in this particular scene she (and the late Clare Sutcliffe who would also have been sixteen at the time) are in an assembly hall full of genuine schoolgirls, she actually looks older and more mature than she would in either of her next two movies, The Railway Children (made when she was seventeen) and Walkabout (eighteen). Curious. Just to repeat, though, what a great movie I Start Counting is. If you haven't seen it, you simply haven't lived.

Inevitably, perhaps, one of this blogger's Facebook fiends asked what this blogger thought about The Odious Phil Collins's brief (and not-particularly-impressive) appearance in I Start Counting.

This blogger replied that it was (and remains) a genuine tragedy that Collins didn't stay an ice cream man and not inflict, as he subsequently did, his 'ubiquitous smugness and increasingly sterile pop' (Martin Strong, 2011), his 'blandness, tax exile [status] and ending a marriage by sending a fax' (Mark Lawson, 2009), his writing a song about the terribleness of being homeless whilst - publicly - voting for the Tories (Caroline Sullivan, 2007), his horrible tuneless vocalising and ugly balding mush on the unwilling world. This blogger rather enjoyed Noel Gallagher's reported comment upon hearing that Collins - during an appearance on the BBC's Room 101 - had made Noel and Liam the target of his petty, spiteful, chip-on-the-shoulder ire. 'Good. I'd hate to have him as a fan!' In this blogger's opinion there are only three things worse than Phil Collins in the entire world, dear blog reader: Racism, animal torture and golf. Or, to put it another way ...

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Four: Michael Jayston: 'Does anybody here love me?' Tales That Witness Madness. A daft line from a daft - but, again, very enjoyable - movie. Another one directed by the great Freddie Francis.

In the film's best segment, Mel, Joan Collins suffers some dreadful indignities, ultimately losing her husband to a tree. It sounds a bit ridiculous. No, in fact, it sounds a lot ridiculous - and, indeed, it is - but it's beautifully acted by Collins and Jayston. And by the tree, for that matter. Acts its little cotton ... roots off, so it does.

Tales That Witness Madness was also From The North favourite the late, great Mary Tamm's movie debut and, she claimed, she almost didn't survive her first day. On-route to the studio, the car in which she was being driven narrowly avoided a fatal collision. Then, moments after arriving on-set, her trailer burned down. 'It was like somebody was trying to tell me something,' she confided to this blogger when he was writing A Vault of Horror in 2004. A class act, the much-missed Mary, to whom that particular book was dedicated (along with this blogger's sister-in-law).

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Five: Michael Coles: 'I'm sorry Jessica, it's just out of the question.' William Franklyn: 'We're not playing games.' Michael Coles: 'Actually, there is a way you can be of use to us, Jessica.' Joanna Lumley: 'How?' Michael Coles: 'By waiting here!' The Satanic Rites Of Dracula. Y'see, dear blog reader, for Hammer Films, the Sexual Revolution was something that happened to ... you know, Other People! It's still a great film, though. Don Houghton's best work in a non-Doctor Who context.

As this blogger wrote in A Vault Of Horror: 'Not only is Jessica played by a different actress from AD 1972 but she's also, apparently, a completely different character, a red-haired, frumpily-dressed scientist. Then she goes off exploring on her own and is menaced by female vampires. Good old Jess, some things never change!'

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Six: Warren Clarke: 'What did you do that for?' Malcolm McDowell: 'For being a bastard with no manners and not a dook of an idea how to comport yourself public-wise, O my brother!' A Clockwork Orange. Now, lewdies and malchicks, once again this blogger is sure there will be those who argue that Mister Stanley Van Kubrick did not do, if you will, horrorshows. To which, this blogger can only counter-argue, yables, yes he bloody did. What can Keith Telly Topping say, dear blog reader? He was led astray by the treachery of others ...

Incidentally, dear blog reader, if you should happen to check out the Wikipedia entry on the novel of A Clockwork Orange, in relation to the title, you'll find the suggestion that Anthony Burgess himself said he had overheard the phrase 'as queer as a clockwork orange' in a London pub around 1945 and assumed it to be an old Cockney expression. In Clockwork Marmalade, an essay published in The Listener in 1972, he said that he had heard the phrase several times since that occasion. He also explained the title in response to a question from William Everson on the US TV programme Camera Three in 1972, 'the title has a very different meaning but only to a particular generation of London Cockneys. It's a phrase which I heard many years ago and so fell in love with, I wanted to use it, the title of the book. But the phrase itself I did not make up. The phrase "as queer as a clockwork orange" is good old East London slang and it didn't seem to me necessary to explain it. Now, obviously, I have to give it an extra meaning. I've implied an extra dimension. I've implied the junction of the organic, the lively, the sweet - in other words, life, the orange - and the mechanical, the cold, the disciplined. I've brought them together in this kind of oxymoron, this sour-sweet word.' Nonetheless, Wikipedia claim, 'no other record of the expression being used before 1962 has ever appeared. Kingsley Amis notes in his Memoirs (1991) that no trace of it appears in Eric Partridge's Dictionary Of Historical Slang. So, this blogger is ever so grateful to his Facebook fiend Paul Rhodes, for proving Wiki (and Kingsley Amis) wrong when discovering this clipping from the Daily News (London) 23 August 1954, All This - And A Radio-Controlled Barrel! James Thomas Previews The Radio Show.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Seven: Tom Baker: 'I want you to say things to me.' Lisa Collings: 'Well I've got a nice selection of obscenities if that's what you want.' Tom Baker: 'No, nothing like that. Just tell me - just say ...' Lisa Collings: 'Oh, come on, luv, I haven't got all night. What?' Tom Baker: 'Just say, "I love you."' Lisa Collins: 'That'll be a pound extra!' The Mutations.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Eight: Alan Bates: 'Get out of here, Anthony, or I'll shout your bloody ears off!' The Shout. Well, at least we can say that the title was an accurate reflection of the content.

Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s. Number Twenty Nine: Donald Pleasence: 'Russell Square tube station.' Norman Rossington: 'What? ... Uh, yes sir.' Donald Pleasence: 'Panovsky.' Norman Rossinglton: 'Sir?' Donald Pleasence: 'Panovsky. Sauerkraut Panovsky.' Norman Rossington: 'Sir?' Donald Pleasence: 'Panovsky. Or something ... A grocer from Kilburn. Look him up.' Norman Rossington: 'Missing person, sir?' Donald Pleasence: 'No, Who's Who ... Twit! A grocer from Kilburn is automatically a missing person.' Death Line. One of this blogger's favourites. 

They say, dear blog reader, that imitation is alleged to be the sincerest form of flattery. Which may be true but try telling that to all of the people Mike Yarwood couldn't do. Anyway, this blogger was shocked - and stunned - when his fine Facebook fiend, Ken Shinn, started his own 'Occasional Series', Singularly Silly Lines From 1960s British Horror Films (no relation). Beginning with, it goes without saying, Number One: Kenny Lynch: 'Next time I see you, they'll be measuring you for your coffin.' Roy Castle: 'Don't forget the double-breasted lid!' Doctor Terror's House Of Horrors.

Once this blogger had gormlessly bellowed 'oi, copyright' and noted, 'Aw man, you don't wanna play around with voodoo' (to which Ken replied: 'Who d'you think sent that wind? Kenny Ball?') this blogger did spend some time dreaming up deliciously nasty punishments for plagiarism. Of exactly the kind The God Dwambala would've meted out to Biff Bailey if only the latter hadn't, you know, fainted like a Big Girl's Blouse. Not enough dedication there, Roy, clearly. Because, like The God Dwambala, Keith Telly Topping is a jealous God. Just sayin' ...

And now, dear blog readers - with a dreadful inevitability of the inevitable - we come to that inexcusably-regular part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's tragically on-going medical-related shenanigans. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going saga which appears to have been on-going longer than Phil Collins using the fact that he appears in about four frames of A Hard Day's Night to try and shoehorn himself into the story of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them), it goes like this: This blogger spent some weeks feeling rotten; had five days in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more injections; somewhat recovered his appetite; got a diagnosis; had a consultant's meeting; continued to suffer fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got (unrelated) toothache; had an extraction; which took a bloody long time - literally - to heal; had another consultation; spent a week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given further - painful - injections; had an echocardiogram; had more blood extraction; did yet another hospital visit to see the consultant; suffered the usual - thoroughly whinge-worthy - insomnia and continued torpor continue. The roasting weather isn't exactly helping with sleeping or with feeling energetic, let it be noted. And, last time around, he returned to hospital for another round of blood letting.

On Monday, yer actual Keith Telly Topping was supposed to have an appointment at 2pm at his local Medical Centre for the latest renewal of his so-called 'Fit Note' (or, 'Lack Of Fit Note' as it should, really, be called). A couple of hours before this blogger was due to leave The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House for this appointment, he was contacted by the Medical Centre receptionist. Due to staff shortages (one imagines caused, at least in part, by the excessive heat) they were proposing to move this blogger's appointment to 'late afternoon' and was this okay with this blogger? Keith Telly Topping, briefly, considered telling them that it, no it most certainly was not okay. Then, he thought better of it and grumbled that he supposed he would be prepared for that eventuality (working on the 'it could've been worse, it could've been put back to tomorrow' principle). They said they'd ring The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House back with a new appointment time 'shortly.' Time progressed. Slowly. The wheels turned (civilisations rose and fell). Minutes stretched into hours and then, at about twenty-to-five this blogger got the call-back saying Doctor Nasir could see Keith Telly Topping 'around five.'

Hurrah. But ... 'That's cutting it a bit fine' this blogger replied. 'It's a fifteen minute walk from The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House to the surgery even when I'm feeling okay. And, I'm not, just in case you were wondering.' Nevertheless, this blogger swiftly donned a pair of socks and some trousers (don't ask why he wasn't wearing them already, dear blog reader), smothered his very self in Factor Fifty and legged it down to Church Walk. Arriving, as he did, with two minutes to spare. Utterly exhausted, out of breath and with his heart beating like a - particularly aggressive - Rick Buckler drum solo. Think the middle section of 'Little Boy Soldiers', fr instance. Doctor Nasir, of course, because he's smashing, was totally sympathetic to this blogger's plight: 'If you'd been a few minutes late, it wouldn't really have mattered,' he said. Now, he tells me! To make up for the inconvenience - and, more importantly, because he's going to be on holiday next time this blogger would have been due to see him, he said 'we'll make it for eight weeks this time rather than six.' What a lovely, lovely man he is. This blogger replied that he hoped Doctor Nasir's holiday will have nice weather but 'a bit cooler than today,' thanked the doctor profusely and left, arriving back at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House pure-total knackerated (having got the bus, this time). That evening, this blogger spent his time mainly rehydrating, sitting as close to Fanny The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House fan as possible, getting his heart-rate down to Ringo Starr on 'Here There & Everywhere' levels rather than Ringo Starr on 'Helter Skelter' levels. Not the best drummer in world, Ian Ogilvy? You're havin' a laugh, yes? And, also, napping on Peter, The Stately Telly Topping Manor couch. Peter Couch? Oh, suit yerselves ...

One or two of this blogger's fine Facebook fiends made suggestions as to how he could cool off in the simmering heat of Monday evening. Like a cold shower, for example. 'An excellent idea,' this blogger noted. 'Scuppered by one minor consideration(ette). I haven't got a shower. And, if you think I'm having a cold bath you've got another thing coming.' Another fiend suggested a 'tepid' bath might help. 'Tried that,' this blogger eventually added having done so. 'Mainly because I've always rather had something of a soft spot for the word "tepid", summoning up as it does images of, well, tepidness. The experience was, to use another one of my favourite words from the same, vague, area of the lexicon, "adequate."'

On the subject of rehydration this blogger was advised by another of his fine Facebook fiends that he should have 'a canteen' close by at all times during the current heatwave. This blogger was amused by the use of this somewhat anachronistic phrase, feeling that such of course of action would make him into 'a highfalutin', rootin', tootin', son-of-a-gun from Arizona, Ragtime Cowboy Joe'. It needed a response, quickly. 'Or, I could just have a bottle of water handy' this blogger said.

Following a horribly uncomfortable night's lack of sleep, dunno why, dear blog reader, but Tuesday just felt like a Three Sausage Day.

You could tell it was hot on Tuesday, dear blog reader (see, this blogger told you we'd get back to the weather eventually). Not only was steam rising from the pavement outside The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House but Big Fanny (The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House fan) and Little Fanny (The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House USB-fanette) were both working overtime. As you can see from this photographic evidence.

Meanwhile, this blogger is aware that it was all hot and that, but he is really not sure at all about the then-current Peter Wyngarde-style malarkey that he had going on at-and-around his upper lip. A bit of The Old Razor Treatment was, clearly, in order. Which occurred the next morning.

Most importantly, the nation was, clearly, going to collective Hell in a collective handcart. As this photo demonstrates. England, it would seem, has fallen. Please note, to whomsoever is in charge of things. It is never - not never - 'too hot' for chips. Sorry, but it's The Law.

Mind you, it could be so much worse. On the West Coast of the US, it would seem, there had been a noted outbreak of crapping in the streets. So much so that they've needed to create a law in California to try and put a stop to it. (This blogger did enjoy the comments in the linked-to article of 'Street Person, Nancie Mislanik' who told Madhouse News, in a state of some kerfufflement, 'I am not a compass, I poop when I have to wherever I am. The world is my toilet.'

For what it's worth, dear blog reader, this blogger is all in favour of people, as it were, letting it all hang out. So long as you're not doing it from an upper-story window. Because, that's just dangerous.

The BBC's Mark Savage has obtained an 'exclusive' interview with Self Esteem. She's a popular beat combo of the 2020's, yer honour. This blogger must confess that he is not overly familiar with Miss Esteem's oeuvre though, what he's heard he has, rather, enjoyed. The piece is headlined The Bigger I Get, The More Threatening I Become. Which, judging by this photo image, used to illustrate the interview would appear to be accurate. Careful, love, you could have someone's eye out with those.

A bottle of sherry once owned by The Duke of Wellington has been sold for just over fifteen hundred knicker at auction. Whichever way you look at it, that's going to be one Hell of an expensive way for someone to get pissed. The one hundred and seventy-year-old booze was bottled in the duke's home - Apsley House - and bought by someone in the UK on Thursday. It fetched fifteen hundred and twenty seven quid, including fees, more than double its pre-sale estimate. Sir Arthur Wellesey, Field Marshal, His Grace and Serene Highness The First Duke of Wellington (KG, GCB, GCH, PC, FRS) who defeated Napoleon and went on to become Prime Minister had never opened it before he died in 1852. He is, in fact, despite being a Tory, this blogger's favourite ever British Prime Minister on account of him having been responsible for more dead Frenchmen than any other. Which was quite a feat. He's been played, in popular fiction, by C Aubrey Smith, Christopher Plummer, John Neville, Laurence Olivier, Stephen Fry, John Malkovich, John Le Mesurier, Bernard Archard, David Troughton, Hugh Fraser, Peter Davison and Peter Bowles among others. 

BBC News also reports that a copy of Shakespeare's First Folio has sold in New York for 2.4 million bucks. Which seems like a lot considering that you can buy a used copy of The Complete Works on Amazon for £18.77. Which is, you know, considerably cheaper.

The influential Swedish-born sculptor Claes Oldenburg - whose giant works of everyday objects delight millions - has died in his New York home aged ninety three. The Pace Gallery which represented him said that he had recently suffered a fall. It described him as 'one of the most radical artists of the Twentieth Century ... in the development of pop art.' Oldenburg, who moved to the US in the 1950s, is known for his trademark works depicting clothes pegs, baseball bats, spoons, hamburgers and electric plugs. Many of his sculptures adorn public spaces in the US, UK and around the world. Including this one, Spoonbridge and Cherry in Minneapolis, which this blogger posed in front of in 2001.

An 'eerie' pink glow in sky has, reportedly, confused an Australian town and outed a cannabis farm.

The award for the latest From The North Headline Of The Week goes to the Get Reading website for Wife Buys Sex Doll That Looks Just Like Her To Satisfy Husband's Libido. Complete with pictures.

The Lincolnshire Live news site claims a Lincoln taxi driver is challenging a decision to revoke his private hire licence over allegations that someone performed oral sex on him in his cab - because he is impotent. One supposes we'll just have to see if it stands up in court.

To From The North's Quote Of The Week, now. This blogger must admit, he's always been more than a bit confused as to why anyone should have a problem with the whole 'woke' concept. Why would anyone not find bigoted sexist, racist, misogynistic, homophobic comments objectionable and rather not hear them? Oh, hang on, apparently most of those who do have a problem with the whole 'woke' concept are readers of the Daily Scum Mail and the Daily Scum Express and the Sun. This blogger knew there'd be a relatively simple, straight-forward explanation to this apparent conundrum.

A couple of bits of From The North housekeeping before we close this latest bloggerisationims update; the last couple of weeks have seen the blog's daily hit-rate continue in the five-to-seven thousand range. That's roughly the same sort of levels that From The North has been experiencing since February. So, this blogger wishes to thank all dear blog readers for your continued support and encouragement. It really does mean a lot.

One particular page which has, it would seem, proved to be especially popular is B Crumble & The Stinkers: The British Post-War B-Movie - A Re-Assessment, this blogger's essay on the British b-movie. Which has had over seventeen thousand individual page hits in the approximately two weeks since it was posted; that's an almost unprecedented hit-rate for an individual page on From The North with the exception of the blog's annual Best and Worst TV of the year coverage. That was certainly unexpected.

And finally, dear blog reader, here we can see alcoholic, wife-beating Scouse junkie John Lennon - with his missus - at the 1965 Cannes Film Festival being approached by a Dalek. Presumably, looking for an autograph. Hey, the collectables market on Skaro is every bit as healthy as the one on Earth, you know? All whilst John, it would appear, is in the middle of his famous, widely-admired Wilfrid Brambell impression. 'Aaaaaarold!' Either that, or he's telling a journalist that Ringo Starr is the best drummer in the world whatever that Jasper Carrott thinks. Here endeth this bloggerisationism update. Stay cool, dear blog readers. On several levels.