The Pow'r That I Have On You Is To Spare You The Malice Towards You, To Forgive You

Wouldn't you just know it, dear blog reader? For approximately ten days during Mid-to-Late June Great Britain was, quite literally, stewing in its own juices as a heatwave of, if you will, mind blowing decisions-style proportions hit this parched and arid land. God, it was hot. And, pretty much everyone got to the point where they were completely bloody sick to the back teeth of the heat and the stickiness and the itching. At which point, they whinged about what a right shite state of affairs this all was, loudly, to anyone that would listen. And, indeed, anyone that wouldn't (this blogger, let it be noted, very much included). Then, of course, the inevitable happened. The rains came and, as it stotted doon like The Flood, we all ran and hid our heads (to paraphrase the alcoholic, wife-beating Scouse junkie out of The Be-Atles, a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them). The sky ripped open and down it pissed by the bucketful. People got soaked right through to their vests. Cricket matches were abandoned due to flooding. F1 qualifying at Silverstone resembled water-skiing. Drains overflowed. Frequently. Small mammals drowned. You got wet just thinking about leaving the house. And, so people whinged again.

They whinged about the heat and then, just to prove what a bunch of contrary sods we are, they whinged about the damp and the (relative) cold. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, dear blog reader. We're really quite a sight, so we are. Is it any wonder the rest of the world hates us and loudly celebrates when our national football team(s) are eliminated from major tournaments in the first round (or, in Scotland's case, during qualification)? It's because of the whole 'things could've been a lot worse' attitude. What do you mean, 'what "things could've been a lot worse" attitude'? Allow From The North favourite, dance maestro and national treasure Bill Bailey to explain how it works. Or, to put it another way, 'our days are overcast so as a nation we're enthused with a wistful melancholy, but we remain a relentlessly chipper population, prone to mild eccentricity, binge drinking and casual violence. We have no natural predators, although, badger'll give you a nasty nip.'

That's Britain for you, dear blog reader. Although we do still have the National Health Service, much bangin' pop music, the Premier League, the BBC, David Attenborough, Doctor Who, Qi, Test Match Special and the best film reviewer in the whole world, bar none.

Right, next Doctor Who, which already has a lot of changes coming to a tellybox near you, dear blog reader, what with Jodie Whittaker's upcoming regeneration and all of the reveals concerning next year's sixtieth anniversary episode. It looks like another change is on the way, seemingly to the chagrin of gammons everywhere. Which is, always, good for a laugh. It appears that a major redesign is coming to the TARDIS. A tabloid report states that the TARDIS will undergo a change which will make it wheelchair-accessible. The Sun claims that a new design for the TARDIS will remove stairs, narrow spaces and other obstacles which would make navigation for a time traveller in a wheelchair rather difficult. On top of those revisions, a lift will be installed. The reason for the change, according to the report, is to 'accommodate the show's continued steps towards inclusivity' and because of the involvement of national treasure Bernard Cribbins in the upcoming sixtieth anniversary special.

There are also rumours that Big Rusty is considering bringing back Shooty Dog Thing. Which would be popular with some and less popular with others. So, again, probably this is Big Rusty being contrary just for the sake of it. Much like everyone else in this country, in fact. 

Anyway ... this week also saw the arrival of the latest incoming preview disc at the Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House: And, it was a really good'un, kicking off with Strange New Worlds: All Those Who Wander. 'People are capable of doing two things at once.' Oh wow, Star Trek does Alien! And, indeed, Aliens. (Sam Kirk-as-Hudson.) They even had their own Newt substitute. Mostly. It was, in short, the best SNW episode so far, by a sodding huge distance. And, you can take it from this blogger on that score, dear blog reader, he's a very widely respected author, journalist and broadcaster. Not that it's all perfect, of course; the pre-title sequence, for example was so obviously signposted it should have had a big white arrow sticking out of its metaphorical head. The two people whom we'd never seen before but were the focus of this scene were, clearly, not doing to make it beyond the second advertising break. And, so it proved. No Red Shirt's though, thankfully (yellow and blue, as it happens). The dialogue was great, though: 'I bet you're a tempest when you're angry.' Celia Rose Gooding's Uhura was terrific throughout (as she has been all series) and this blogger really admired the Spock/Christine Chapel scene. He even thought Christina Chong was ... mostly adequate this week. 'Watch the ceilings, anything that moves, shoot it!' Reminiscent of Deep Space Nine at its most edgy and dark. Loved it, loved it, loved it.

However, from a really very fine episode of a really very fine series to one of the most extraordinary hours of television this blogger believes he's seen in a long time. The Man Who Fell To Earth: As The World Falls Down. Which was utterly, mesmerisingly, transendentally beautiful. 'You either die in a cage or you own the world. There's nothing in-between.' An intricate game about games (TMWFTE does The Prisoner, basically). 'I know everything you've ever loved.' So, that's how one survives (and enjoys) waterboarding. Good to know should the CIA ever get notions about grabbing someone with a brain the size of an Adidas Telstar. A story about family, betrayal, torture, betrayal, anticipation, betrayal, duality ('you're both the fucking same'), betrayal, suppressed memories, betrayal, murder and choices. And, betrayal. 'All we need is thirty six hours.' God, this cast is great. Especially, this week (in, indeed, every week), Chiwetel: 'Your name is a prison ... but what I know will set you free.' All of the sudden changes in character motivation in the last quarter of the episode appeared completely earned and made perfect sense to this blogger. Especially the climax. 'You're not Pressman Thorne.' 'Are you sure?' Quite, quite brilliant, dear blog readers. And remember, absolutely no horses were extremely shot in the face during the making of this episode. Well, okay, maybe one. 'Is that Question Five?'

'They murdered time!' This blogger switched on The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House widescreen TV first thing on Thursday morning after yet another sleep-deprived night of tossing. And turning. But, mostly tossing. After spending ninety minutes watching (for the second time) a really rather good early 1960s Brit-noir B-movie on Talking Pictures, Night Of The Prowler, he went looking for The Horror Channel for that day's Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House dose of '8am UFO with breakfast' malarkey. Only to be shocked - and stunned - to discover that the (long threatened) rebranding and reordering process of THC (and some other channels) had occurred overnight. It, therefore, took this blogger another five minutes to find the new channel on The Stately Telly Topping Manor Sky TV Guide, Legend (that's number one hundred and forty eight on your Sky programme list, dear blog readers. Or, if you're still only on Freeview, y'cheapskate b'stards, it's number forty one). He found it just in time for the extraordinary opening sequence of Timelash, the zenith of the drug-crazed-abandon of the second half of Gerry Anderson's much-loved live-action series. This was, of course, one of the handful of episodes which were given a restricted, late-night slot on many ITV regions back in 1970-71 due, mainly, to the scene in which Ed Bishop and Wanda Ventham, ahem, shoot-up to counteract the aliens-slowing-down-time shenanigans. Plus the episode is, generally, as weird as a very weird thing (with weird knobs on). As weird, in fact, as Weird Jack McWeird, winner of the Mister Weird competition. But, it remains worthy for many and varied reasons, particularly the multiple shots of Patrick Allen bellowing 'Big Man!' at Straker and gurning at the camera. Can't, ever, get too much of that.

It also has one of this blogger's favourite lines of dialogue in all TV. 'In The New Order, I'm going to be boss.' Something which yer actual Peter Hook spent the majority of twenty years trying to achieve. And failed.

Friday morning's UFO episode was Ordeal. Not one of the more memorable ones, perhaps, except for the use of 'Get Back' (a rockin' little tune by The Be-Atles, a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) at the yuppie party Paul Foster attends. And, it is implied, he ends the night giving a good, hard, eye-watering shag to Groovy Sylvia (Quinn O'Hara) whose party it is. One imagines obtaining the rights for that one song blew the vast majority of the episode's budget (clearly, they got the other song used during the party sequence, The Spencer Davis Group's 'Trampoline' for about sixpence). The rest of the budget most likely went on the ghastly clobber that the production team gave poor Michael Billington to wear. The 1980 this blogger knew was never like that, dear blog reader. Not with those flares.

On the subject of how they managed to use 'Get Back', the episode in question - the ninth of the first UFO production block - was filmed at Elstree between 8 and 20 August 1969. This was five months after Dick James and his partners had sold their entire stake in Northern Songs to Sir Lew Grade's Associated Television without informing Lennon and McCartney that he was doing so. John, Paul and Ron DeKlein then spent some time attempting to gain a controlling interest in the company but their bid, part of a long and acrimonious fight, ultimately failed. Mainly due to Lew's financial muscle and the fact that The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) were knee-deep in the lengthy process of breaking-up.

By the time Ordeal was in production, Grade (whose ITC Entertainment co-produced UFO with Gerry Anderson's Century 21 Television) had effectively gained more-or-less complete control of Northern Songs. And, presumably, it was he that was behind the licencing of 'Get Back' to be used in this particular episode. It's nice when one has influential fiends in high places, is it not, dear blog reader?

And, speaking of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them), this blogger really enjoyed a piece of 'you're not gonna believe this, right?' reportage on the BBC News website several hours before That There Sir Paul McCartney (MBE)'s triumphant headlining of The Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury on Saturday night. It was all about some seriously mental Macca fanatics staking their claim to front row spots from early morning. 'Festival-goers,' the BBC noted, 'gathered at the barriers ... with sandwiches and snacks to keep them going [from the several hours] before McCartney [appeared] on stage. "I've been training for it like a marathon," said Kate Appleby. In order to avoid giving up her spot, the twenty nine-year-old has been practicing ways to avoid toilet breaks. "Lots of pelvic floor exercises, lots of clenching ... It'll be worth it."' Debateable if you end up with a ruptured colon, Kate. One trusts, therefore, that Kate didn't piss in her own keks (or worse) the second that Macca and his band stormed into their opening song, 'Can't Buy Me Love' as was usually the case at the height of Be-Atlemania. Or, that if a puddle of wee did emerge, it was only when they got to the third song in the set, 'Letting Go', a tune perfectly suited to pissing yourself. Mind you, dear blog reader, Paul also subsequently played 'She Came In Through The Bathroom Window' so that was, possibly, the eighty year old former bassist with The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) and Wings (a popular beat combo of the 1970s, you might've heard of them) signalling to Kate and others like her that he shared their - agonising bladder - pain. There's probably a 'Carry That Weight' joke in there somewhere, if anyone cares to reach for it.

Or course, you just knew when stories emerged of fans waiting for up to ten hours to get a view of the nation's favourite Octogenarian rock and/or roll star that someone, somewhere was going to be jolly unlucky. So it was for Lisa Morris, from Bath, who reportedly collapsed after waiting for her hero behind the front barriers until gravity took over. When she realised that she had missed the vast majority of Paul's thirty eight-song two-and-three-quarter hour set, she claimed that she 'absolutely sobbed.' Again, a positive throw-back, that, to the sopping-cheeks, damp-knickers and sore-throats-from-all-that-bloody-screaming days of 1964. Don't worry, chuck, you can watch it on iPlayer for the next few weeks. 'Probably five, six songs in, that was it, game over,' she added. Bright side, at least you got to see him play 'Junior's Farm' for the first time in about five tours. And a splendid time was guaranteed for all. 'cept Lisa, obviously.

The biggest mystery of Glastonbury weekend, though, was why Primal Scream's set didn't include 'Kill All Hippies'? ... Okay, on reflection, maybe there was a reason.

Keith Telly Topping would like to thanks the four - yes, four - dear blog readers who contacted him after the last From The North bloggerisationisms update, to share their appreciation of this blogger's extended Department S appreciation piece. Which was jolly nice of you all (thank you Dave, Mark, Judith and Holly). At least two of whom suggested that this blogger should do a similar retrospective rewatch-and-assessment on other vintage TV shows; a few titles were even suggested, although one of them was for a series of which approximately ninety six episodes no longer exist in the archives and, if this blogger started a complete rewatch today, even going at a story-a-day, it'd still take him the best part of ten months to get to the end. And, it'd mean him watching The Creature From The Pit again and he's definitely doing that. However, the suggestions of The Prisoner (at seventeen episodes), Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased) (twenty six) and The Champions (thirty) could be done in a weekend and all sound quite tempting, actually. Especially if it keeps raining. You might want to stay tuned for the next 'Keith Telly Topping relives his misspent youth' installment.

'Just wondering, meanwhile, if we'll be getting the old Telly Topping ruminations on Sherwood', this blogger's fine Facebook fiend David asked a few days ago. 'It's good,' this blogger replied. 'Do you want more?' David said that he did. 'Okay, it's very, very, very good,' was this blogger's considered opinion. David still wasn't satisfied. 'I expect two column inches in the next bloggerisations [sic]' was his response. Crumbs. Sherwood, in case you weren't aware, drew to a close on Tuesday, with one critic describing it as 'the best BBC drama of the year.' This blogger currently has it second, behind the final series of Peaky Blinders and, provisionally, hovering somewhere around the top ten of likely inclusions in 2022's From The North Best Of list along with the likes of The Man Who Fell To Earth, Pistol, The Ipcress File, The Midwich Cuckoos and The Essex Serpent. Though it's still only halfway through the year and we've still got the much-anticipated Inside Man to come, for instance. Anyway, back to Sherwood. The drama, starring Lesley Manville, David Morrissey, Robert Glenister, Clare Holman, Claire Rushbrook, Philip Jackson, Joanne Froggatt, Alun Armstrong, Lindsay Duncan and Stephen Tompkinson amongst literally dozens of From The North favourites, centres around the hunt for a killer tormenting a fractured Nottinghamshire community. It has had glowing reviews (albeit, with most of the reviewers vying with each other to see who could come up with the most groan-inducing Robin Hood puns) and the BBC announced on Wednesday that a second series has already been commissioned. The Torygraph's review of the finale suggested that the drama was 'authentic, devastating and perfectly cast.' Significantly, it wasn't written by That Awful Singh Woman. In fact, the paper's critic, Alex Diggins, wrote: '2022 has been a purple patch for grown-up, serious drama on the BBC. The Tourist, The Responder and This Is Going To Hurt were all excellent. But in the clarity of its storytelling and the authenticity of its atmosphere, Sherwood split the bullseye: the best BBC drama of the year so far and I'd hazard some time to come. No wonder it's just been recommissioned for a second series.' One cannot imagine That Awful, Sour-Faced Singh Woman being so enthused. Or articulate. Two grizzly murders and the toxic legacy of an industrial dispute that drove families apart lie at the heart of the drama, which was inspired by real-life events in writer James Graham's home town. It follows two police officers in a village still scarred by the divisions laid down during the miners' strike decades earlier. Diggins added that Nottinghamshire-born Graham's 'story of murder, scabs and old wounds has proved to be so much more than a simple crime drama.' The show, he said, contains 'ringing echoes' of the mythology of Robin Hood and, moreover, 'believable people, in a believable world, broken on the rack of history and their own mistakes.'

The Gruniad Morning Star seemed to agree, also offering as glowing review by That Awful Mangan Woman. Who, seemingly, got most of her bile out of her system with that ludicrously sneering (and punchable) review of The Midwich Cuckoos a few weeks ago, already ripped into tiny pieces, spat upon and given the metaphorical slapping it so richly deserved by this blog. That Awful Mangan Woman wrote that Sherwood's 'gloriously directed, superbly written ending was quietly devastating.' She said: 'The entire cast has been rightly and unanimously lauded. Sherwood has been stuffed with the unquestionable best of a generation of British acting talent in Manville, Morrissey, Lorraine Ashbourne (who gets all the work she deserves but not always the glory - despite never failing to convince absolutely every moment she's on screen) and those filling every other main role. They all had a fine script to work with and glorious direction that made it even more than the sum of its parts. Every arrow found its mark.' Reviewing the penultimate episode of the drama the previous evening, however, some waste-of-space louse at the Daily Scum Mail was less impressed. 'Sherwood has been a disappointment, with storylines as flat as the beer,' claimed that odious, hateful Christopher Stephens, quite wrongly. But then, this is the Daily Scum Mail we're talking about. If they told this blogger black was a darker shade than white, he'd still want a second opinion. 'The cast is outstanding, crammed with more top actors than a Harry Potter movie. But even the talents of Lorraine Ashbourne, Mark Addy, Pip Torrens, Adeel Akhtar, David Morrissey and Robert Glenister can't cover up the yawning illogicalities in the plot.' The loathsome Stevens's colleague, Sarah Vine, had previously described the show as 'utterly compelling.' Proving that, like a broken clock, even the Daily Scum Mail can be right twice a day. But, it usually isn't. As the BBC announced that filming for series two would commence next year, Graham said that he wrote the show as 'a warning' that 'when communities are divided, the pain endures. Our history shows how the forces of polarisation have been weaponised to achieve political ends,' he wrote in the Gruniad Morning Star. 'It was this, rather than any desire to create a traditional crime show, that drove me to write Sherwood.' Morrissey - giving probably his best performance since State Of Play (Jackson Lake notwithstanding) said it had been 'a wonderful ride.' And this blogger's view, since David wants to know? He thought it was very, very, very good. Satisfied, David?

Advertising breaks on UK television channels could get longer and more frequent as part of a review of broadcasting rules by the regulator Ofcom. A politically-appointed quango, elected by no one. The frequency and length of advertising will be 'reassessed' in light of 'evolving viewing habits' and the rise of streaming services, Ofcom claimed. One or two people believed them. The regulator pledged to 'listen to different views and examine what TV viewers say' before any changes. No one believed that. It previously said the frequency of adverts 'could' be 'seen as disruptive' to viewing. No shit? That's a bit like saying that if you step in a pile of dogshit, your shoes 'could' stink. The regulator's current rules state that, for ITV, Channel 4 and Channel 5, the 'total amount of advertising in any one day must not exceed an average of seven minutes per hour of broadcasting.' The channels can run advertising breaks of up to eight minutes per hour during prime-time periods. Other commercial channels are allowed up to nine minutes of advertising per hour of broadcasting, plus an extra three minutes for teleshopping. Discussing the review, an Ofcom spokesman claimed the regulator needed 'to strike the right balance between protecting viewers' interests and sustaining our traditional broadcasters.' The review on advertising frequency and length was mentioned in an Ofcom report to the lack of culture secretary That Awful Dorries Woman on the PSB licences of the three terrestrial commercial channels. The report said: 'We are also looking at the rules that set the frequency and length of advertising on broadcast TV. These rules are complex, with limits in place for public service broadcasters that are stricter than the rules set for commercial broadcasters. We have had initial discussions with stakeholders and we expect to be able to outline our next steps later this summer.' ITV and Channel 5 are privately owned and funded entirely through advertising. Their public service broadcasting licences are due to expire in 2024 - but Ofcom advised That Awful Dorries Woman it believed there was a 'good case' to renew both licences. Subscription streaming services like Netflix and Disney+, which do not carry advertising for most subscribers, are set to be regulated by Ofcom for the first time in a move that had long been requested by traditional broadcasters. Previous Ofcom research found that many older audiences 'often prefer to record content as a series so that they can skip the ads' - while younger viewers also voiced 'frustrations' with the amount of adverts. In a statement, an Ofcom spokesman said: 'We're scoping a range of options, but before we form any plans we'll listen to different views and examine what TV viewers say. We need to strike the right balance between protecting viewers' interests and sustaining our traditional broadcasters, which includes helping them compete with American streaming platforms.'

The latest edition of Talking Pictures' The Cellar Club on Friday night included a very rare - but, equally welcome - TV showing of Pete Walker's astonishing, censor-baiting House Of Whipcord (1974) a movie which looms large in this blogger's legend. As Keith Telly Topping wrote in A Vault Of Horror (still available from those gorgeous, luscious, pouting folk at Telos Books for a very reasonable price): 'Often alleged to be one of the grottiest, nastiest films ever made, House Of Whipcord is, actually, a very intelligent, ambitious movie with some interesting things to say about corporal and capital punishment and with a very cynical view of right-wing moral outrage at The Permissive Society ... [It] features little nudity, hardly any blood and the film's reputation, as The Godfather of S&M movies, is vastly undeserved. What it is, despite all this, is a terrifyingly intense film that exposes the morally bankrupt nature of those for whom no punishment is ever considered to be harsh enough.' Personally, this blogger think it's Walker's masterpiece although Keith Telly Topping also has a real soft spot for both Die Screaming, Marianne and House Of Mortal Sin.

Kevin Lyons of the BFI website's article Ten Great Overlooked British Horror Films Of The 1970s - Because There's A World Beyond The Wicker Man doesn't include House Of Whipcord (although it is mentioned in the brief review of one of Walker's other highly confrontational movies, Frightmare. But, the article itself is well worth a read, dear blog readers; anyone who rates From The North favourites such as Death Line, The Creeping Flesh, From Beyond The Grave and José Larraz's Vampyres highly is okay in this blogger's book.

This blogger has to observe, dear blog reader, that there is starting to be something genuinely annoying about his constantly waking up geet early on a Monday morning due to chronic insomnia, getting the bus down to ALDI and then struggling back to The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House with a week's worth of necessary supplies. Just so that, a medical appointment the following day notwithstanding, he didn't have to go out again during the week. Especially as, half-way through the shopping, this blogger suddenly realised that he was absolutely bustin' for a Jimmy Riddle. That made the trip back on the bus just that bit quicker than it might have been under different circumstances. Though, despite enormous temptation, it didn't lead to several choruses of 'Stop the bus, I want a wee-wee.' Which was a blessing for all concerned, frankly. Plus there was the weather. That day was Muggy. Followed, somewhat inevitably, by Tuggy, then Weggy ... Come on, dear blog readers, Keith Telly Topping is working with limited material, here.

We come, then, with an appalling inevitability to the inexcusably regular part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going medical-related doings. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going saga which seems to have been on-going longer than Status Quo's entire career, it goes something like this: This blogger spent weeks feeling wretched; had five days in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more injections; recovered his appetite; got a diagnosis; had a consultants meeting; continued to suffer from fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got toothache; had an extraction; which took ages to heal; had yet another consultation; spent a whole week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given further - really painful - injections; did another hospital visit for an echocardiogram and paid one further visit to the medical centre for yet another bit of blood extraction. As yer actual Keith Telly Topping's medical team continue to search, seemingly in vain, for the reasons behind this blogger's current incapacity.

This week, this blogger's bi-monthly meeting with his consultant, Doctor Sarah took place on Tuesday. The bad news is there's still absolutely no clue whatsoever as to what has been causing the fatigue and insomnia, the ankle oedema, the breathlessness and occasional dizziness, the malabsorption, the frequently feeling cold and all of the other lingering symptoms that this blogger has been suffering from - other than that they're all, directly or indirectly, related to the anaemia and/or, the B-12/Vitamin D/Folic Acid deficiencies(s). The good news, however, is that the recent echocardiogram was ace ('you're as strong as a horse' Doctor Sarah said in obvious surprise. 'Christ only knows how' an equally shocked - and stunned - Keith Telly Topping replied). Also, latest blood tests were all normal (except for the, already known about, Vitamin D deficiency and also a Zinc deficiency which was a new one on both of us but which Doctor Sarah said that she wasn't too worried about. This blogger then had a series of blood pressure tests with Nurse John; lying, standing, sitting and then standing again to see if any of those were the cause of the lightheadedness which this blogger sometimes gets first thing in the morning when slithering, reluctantly, out of his pit. Seemingly not - they were all well within acceptable levels (although Nurse John did note that this blogger's heart-rate was much lower when lying down than sitting or standing, although none of the levels were in any way out of the ordinary). Finally, they requested a wee-wee-in-a-bottle for testing. This blogger didn't particularly need to go but he managed to do his duty (using the time-honoured method of turning on the tap in the lavatory and thinking about rivers and lakes). The next appointment should be in about two months. Doctor Sarah said that she was, quote, 'delighted' with this blogger's progress thus far and that he should not get too stressed about the on-going fatigue - that can take months to clear up. She is, still, slightly concerned about the insomnia which is, obviously, at least in part connected to the fatigue and advised afternoon naps (which this blogger is doing anyway) and some light exercise if Keith Telly Topping feels up to it (to the shops and back once every couple of days was one of the suggestions). 

Nevertheless, for the rest of Tuesday and, indeed, all of the following day this blogger found himself absolutely exhausted; it appears that getting to and from the hospital took more out of this blogger than he had realised at the time. Mind you, the insomnia-interrupted night he previously spent didn't help.

That said, some things in this blogger's life are - and remain - really deserved.

Jos Buttler has been named as England cricket team's new white-ball captain. The superstar batsman-wicketkeeper replaces World Cup-winning former captain Eoin Morgan, who retired from international cricket this week after injury. Buttler was Morgan's vice-captain and has led England in nine one-day internationals and five Twenty20s when Morgan was unavailable. 'It is the greatest honour to captain your country - I can't wait to take this team forward,' he said. Buttler's first assignment as captain will come against India, with three T20s and three ODIs from 7 July. Series against South Africa, Pakistan and Australia follow before the T20 World Cup in Australia from October. Buttler will work alongside newly-appointed Australian head coach Matthew Mott, with the pair looking to build a side also capable of defending the fifty-over World Cup in India in October 2023. He added: 'It is a great honour to take over from Eoin and the place he has left English white-ball cricket in is exciting. I'm inspired for the challenges ahead. He has been an inspirational leader, and it has been fantastic to play under him. There are lots of things that I have learnt from him that I'll take into this role.' Big Rob Key, managing director of England men's cricket, said: 'Jos Buttler was the perfect choice to succeed Eoin Morgan as our white-ball captain and I had no hesitation in offering him the role. Jos has been part of our white-ball set-up for over a decade and was integral in the transformation of the way the team has played its attacking brand of cricket over the past seven years. I believe the extra responsibility will take his game to a new level and inspire those around him.' As stand-in captain, Buttler won six ODIs and three T20s. The right-hander is one of three England players, alongside Heather Knight and Dawid Malan, to have scored centuries in all three formats and has also hit England's three fastest ODI hundreds. He has played in one hundred and fifty one ODIs and scored four thousand one hundred and twenty runs, with ten centuries, while he has made over two thousand runs in eighty eight T20s. All-rounder Moeen Ali, who is a regular part of England's white-ball team, told Test Match Special: 'Jos is definitely the right guy. He will have this own way and style. I don't know what else he could bring but I do think he'll bring his own way in terms of innovation and he'll try take it to the next level, whatever that is.' Test captain Ben Stokes told BBC Sport that Buttler was the 'obvious choice', adding: 'He's got the same ethos and he'll carry on Morgs' legacy no doubt. I don't think you'll see any change in the way that we go out there and play.' Stokes also confirmed that he wants to play white-ball cricket this summer, saying he has 'missed playing' one-day cricket for England.

It doesn't seem nowt but a couple of weeks ago that the last socher-ball season ended. Nevertheless, some players are already back in pre-season training, including most of those from this blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies. It has, in fact, been but thirty nine days since the players last reported for duty - ending the 2021-22 season on a high by beating extremely relegated Burnley at Turf Moor. Wor Geet Canny Eddie Howe, quite remarkably in the end, helped to steer the club away from what - until around Christmas time - seemed a certain relegation as United finished the campaign eleventh in the Premiership on forty nine points. That was their highest top-flight total in eight years. Friday saw the majority of Newcastle's first team squad begin their pre-season preparations at Darsley Park. Dan Burn, Martin Dubravka, Paul Dummett, Federico Fernandez, Ryan Fraser, Mark Gillespie, Joelinton, Jamaal Lascelles, Sean Longstaff, Jacob Murphy, Matt Ritchie, Allan Saint-Maximin, Jonjo Shelvey, Matt Targett, Joe Willock and Callum Wilson were all spotted. Matty Longstaff and Kell Watts were also present, having ended last season on-loan in the Football League. Completing the line-up on day one were Jamal Lewis, Lucas De Bolle and a sprinkling of Under Twenty One squad members. Kieran Trippier, Bruno Guimarães Rodriguez Moura, Miguel Almiron, Chris Wood and summer signings Nick Pope and Sven Botman were absent as they have been given some extra-time off after being on international duty last month. Steady Eddie's side host National League North champions Gatesheed in a behind-closed-doors friendly at the club's training centre next Saturday before jetting off to Austria for a week-long training camp. In Austria, Newcastle will face 1860 Munich and Mainz. Others confirmed friendlies for Th' Toon include Benfica, Atalanta and Athletic Bilbao - the latter two at St James' Park on 29 and 30 July. The Premier League season kicks off on 6 August with United at home to recently-promoted Nottingham Forest. 

Five British citizens were unlawfully killed when Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 was shot down in Eastern Ukraine, a coroner has concluded. A joint inquest into the deaths of five of the two hundred and ninety eight on board has been held in Leicester, where their bodies were repatriated to. The court heard evidence that a Buk missile was fired from Ukraine by pro-Russian separatists. It exploded in front of the cockpit of the aircraft, the inquest heard. Fragments of the missile then killed crew members in the cockpit and caused significant damage to the aircraft, causing it to break-up. The aircraft was travelling from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur on 17 July 2014 when it was shot down. The inquest heard evidence from Detective Chief Superintendent Dominic Murphy, from the Counter Terrorism Command of the Metropolitan Police. He said that a criminal investigation taking place in The Hague had identified four individuals as possibly being responsible for the missile and they were being tried in their absence. 'MH17 departed from Amsterdam and it had been flying for about three hours when it lost contact with air traffic control,' he said, summarising an investigation by the Dutch Safety Board. Fragments of metal were found in the bodies of crew members when their remains were recovered, he added. He said that the missile system appeared to have been smuggled over the border to Ukraine from Russia on 16 and 17 July. As this blogger mentioning in From The North's reporting of this sickening outrage at the time, this blogger actually knew (albeit, only slightly) one of the victims, John Alder. Speaking at the inquest, Senior Coroner Professor Catherine Mason said: 'I am satisfied that MH17 was shot down by a Buk missile fired by pro-Russian separatists. Taking all of the evidence into account, an appropriate conclusion in relation to the deaths of Liam Sweeney, Richard Mayne, Glenn Thomas, John Alder and Ben Pocock is that they were unlawfully killed. I am truly sorry that we meet today as a result of such a tragic and shocking incident.'

And finally, dear blog reader the latest winner of the From The North Headline Of The Week award goes to the Yorkshire Live website for Huddersfield Cul-De-Sac Residents Furious As Maggot-Infested Overflowing Bins 'Not Emptied For Two Weeks'. Personally, this blogger blames whomsoever it was that put all the maggots in there in the first place.