Anyway, enough about the weather, let us move on to the second subject all British people talk about. The next Doctor, Ncuti Gatwa, is set to begin filming on
Doctor Who later in 2022. The
Radio Times (which used to be staffed by adults), '
understands' that production on Ncuti's first episodes will begin in November. Or, to put it slightly differently,
Radio Times (which used to be staffed by
adults), has reprinted a story that was
first reported by
The Hollywood Reporter instead of doing their own research. It has not been confirmed if the actor will play a part in next year's sixtieth anniversary episode, though Neil Patrick Harris - cast as a villain in the upcoming episode - recently revealed that he 'got to meet and interact' with Ncuti while filming suggesting that a regeneration sequence at least will be part of the anniversary special. Ncuti will next be seen in the
Barbie movie alongside
From The North favourite Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling and will also reprise his popular role of Eric in the fourth series of Netflix's
Sex Education, which is now filming.
In
the last From The North bloggerisationism update, dear blog reader, a link was made to
a piece in The Lincolnite (no, me neither), which suggested that filming had been taking place at Grantham's Belton House and that this was rumoured to be in connection with the forthcoming
Doctor Who sixtieth anniversary episode. Within a day, the media organ in question had changed its story, now
confirming that the filming which was taking place in Grantham had, in fact,
nothing whatsoever to do with
Doctor Who. Not even a little bit. Which was more than a touch disappointing, frankly, after the massive hype that
The Lincolnite had given their original story. According to Associate Editor Emily Norton, 'Dear readers, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip.' Quite what the fek
that was supposed to mean is another question, entirely. Run it by this blogger again but, this time,
in English if possible, Em? Anyway, 'Belton House, Grantham is reportedly
not the Dalek playground we were beginning to envision, but in fact the set of a
Bridgerton spin-off about
Queen Charlotte. Filming at the Grade I listed country house and grounds has sparked rumours aplenty in recent weeks, predominantly of
Doctor Who anniversary episodes.' Rumours which, let us remember,
The Lincolnite (no, me neither) was, seemingly, more than happy to spread without bothering to do a bit of investigative journalism to find out whether they were actually
true or not. 'An anonymous inside source ... has written to
The Lincolnite to inform readers that crews are preparing the set for one of the biggest smashes in Netflix history.' What a very great pity it was that
The Lincolnite didn't wait until it had the confirmation from their 'anonymous (and, therefore, almost certainly fictitious) inside source' before doing the kind of speculative-crap-based-on-bugger-all piece that would have shamed
Hello! magazine, the
Daily Mirra (now that they no longer hack people's phones) and even, God help us,
Plymouth Live. Once upon a time, dear blog reader, being a journalist meant doing a bit of leg work, speaking to contacts, getting confirmation of a particular story's factual accuracy (ideally from more than one source) and then - and
only then - going ahead and publishing. Now, seemingly, it merely involves sitting on your arse in the office (or, at home) trawling around
Twitter on your mobile phone to find out what some know-nothing glakes are speculating about. As a general rule of thumb, dear blog reader, if you read a story that includes (in its opening couple of lines) the word 'rumoured', flush it into the gutter along with all of the other turds which is where it probably belongs.
The feature-length documentary
Doctor Who Am I will be given a cinema release in the UK, it has been
announced. The project has been picked up by Kaleidoscope Film Distribution, which plans to launch it on an as-yet-unspecified date in October (
reported by
Variety). The film examines the making of 1996's
Doctor Who TV movie, which starred Paul McGann (you knew
that, right?) The story made changes to established lore by having The Doctor be half-human (on his mother's side) and giving him what was, then, an uncharacteristic romantic interest in companion Grace Holloway (played by Daphne Ashbrook). Although, a couple of decades on, the movie (romantic subplot and all) seems to have aged quite well. This blogger always thought it was a decent effort to make
Doctor Who for an American audience and the main thing he disliked about it at the time was the rather overpowering music. He particularly enjoyed the bit where Eric Roberts says he has '
drezzzzed for the occasion.'
Doctor Who Am I sees Matthew Jacobs, who wrote the TV movie, revisit the period in which it was produced and reassess his relationship with the BBC's popular, long-running family SF drama franchise. In doing so, he is surprised to find himself 'a kindred part of this close-knit, yet vast, family of fans,' according to the documentary's synopsis. Co-director Vanessa Yuille said: 'We're a small movie with a big heart and Kaleidoscope saw that right away. Teaming up with Kaleidoscope is a perfect match for us because even though we're an American movie, they understand the
Doctor Who franchise and the global reach of the fandom.' So, in other wordds '
Doctor Who fans will watch any old crap with the words "Doctor" and "Who" in the title.' Which, to be scrupulously fair, is a pretty accurate assessment.
There is
a really very good and wide-ranging interview with
From The North favourite yer actual Matt Smith in
Rolling Stain. 'With a career that's taken him from
Doctor Who to the new
Game Of Thrones prequel
House Of The Dragon, Matt Smith is one of Britain's most in-demand actors. But has anyone told him that?' the piece begins. Well, yeah. We at
From The North are never
not telling Smudger how totally great he is, mate.
The Sandman has already acquired a passionate and vocal fanbase, dear blog reader. You might have noticed. Much of this fandom has 'swarmed onto social media' to 'voice support' for a second series. You might've noticed that too - it's been pretty much unavoidable all week. When the streaming giant celebrated
The Sandman's status as the top ranking Netflix series in eighty nine countries, followers on
Twitter responded by expressing their wish for Morpheus's swift return. Based on the DC Comics series written by
From The North favourite Neil Gaiman (you knew
that, right?),
The Sandman earned a wave of positive reviews in the days following its recent premiere -
ten of them on this very blog as it happens - with critics (and this blogger) praising the series for the performance of its cast and its faithful translation of the source material. Its widespread popularity quickly catapulted the series to the top of Netflix's charts for the first week of August, with
The Sandman earning over sixty nine million viewing hours within just three days of release.
Ten of them at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. While Netflix has yet to renew
The Sandman for a second series, Gaiman claimed he was already deliberating on the casting for two other members of The Endless. 'Right now, what we're doing is every time I think of or run into or pass or notice an actor who could be either a Destruction or a Delirium, [showrunner Allan Heinberg] gets an e-mail,' the author said.
Entertainment Weekly has
a lengthy interview with Heinberg on the subject of the production's plans for series two if and when Netflix give the go ahead. The crux of which is, 'We've had a writers' room for season two and I'm working on the scripts now,' Heinberg says. '
Season Of Mists is something I'm really looking forward to.' The showrunner also suggested that any second series would be likely to contain an adaptation of
A Game Of You. 'If we're able to do
Game Of You, we've got a lot of characters who aren't even human, who are talking animals, who I'm looking forward to meeting,' Heinberg added.
In an effing '
uge deluge of speculative articles concerning any potential second series (they're obviously speculative given that Netflix, as noted above, haven't given the go-ahead yet)
one of the strangest Sandman-related pieces comes from
GQ which makes a claim about the production that, to the best of this blogger's knowledge, no one else has suggested; that further episodes of
The Sandman have
already been made. 'It looks as though Netflix has accidentally revealed that there is more
Sandman on the way - or at least that more
Sandman exists,' the author - one Sam Moore - claims. 'Over the weekend, on the streaming site's official
Still Watching YouTube channel, there was a new episode of
I Like To Watch hosted by ... Katya Zamolodchikova and Trixie Mattel where they get into the latest films and TV released by the streaming service. The latest episode featured their ... take on
The Sandman.' The article goes on to claim that the duo 'began commenting on scenes that are very much
not in the ten episodes that make up season one. And you'd definitely remember said clips, as they feature giant CGI cats looking very, very creepy and using little humans as playthings. There is also a brief glimpse of {Morpheus] himself reuniting with a lost love.' These two clips, the article suggests, come from issues seventeen and eighteen of
The Sandman 'so in the timeline, immediately after where season one finishes which leaves the question: where do they fit into the series?' They do, indeed, sound like sequences from fan favourite
A Dream Of A Thousand Cats and
Calliope two of the four short stories that make up the third
Sandman collection
Dream County (issues seventeen to twenty).
Dream Country also includes another of this blogger's favourite individual
Sandman issues,
A Midsummer Night's Dream and the touching, if a bit lightweight,
Façade. 'Are they clips from an upcoming episode of
The Sandman, either a second season or bonus installment?' asked Moore, rhetorically, before adding, 'Potentially.' Or, indeed, potentially
not. '
A Dream Of A Thousand Cats is one of the most popular issues of the graphic novel and ...' Hang on, let's just stop there for a second, Sam. 'Graphic novel'? Please read the
start of the last From The North bloggerisationism update to find out what both this blogger
and, indeed, Neil Gaiman his very self think about that
hateful,
punchable descriptor. They're
comics, mate. Always have been, always will be. Only Middle Class hippy Communist
Gruniad Morning Star readers and
Americans call them
graphic novels. So, you'd better start working out which of those two appalling alternatives you are. Think I'd sooner be a Middle Class hippy Communist myself. Anyway, Sam, please continue with your fascinatingly unsubstantiated theory '... [it is] unlikely to have been left on the cutting room floor or was it as simple as the [duo] were shown an early rough-cut of the show that was later re-edited into the version we can now watch on Netflix?' Or, isn't it much more likely that they were talking rubbish specifically to pull the plonker of cheb-ends who call comics
graphic fekking novels? 'The fact that Netflix have acted swiftly to purge the video from
YouTube and the various screengrabs that appeared on social media suggests this was more than just deleted scenes,' Moore continues. As conspiracy theories go, pal,
that's a blinder. Again, just to repeat, apart from
GQ no other organ of the media appears to have stumbled across this story. '
GQ has reached out to Netflix for comment,' Moore concludes. And that's
another thing; only Middle Class hippy Communists (and Americans) say, 'reached out to' instead of 'asked.' Is anyone else currently checking the date to see if it's 1 April and no one noticed?
Edited to add: Oh well, there you go dear blog reader, appearently the hour-long 'bonus' episode
does, indeed, exist and was released by Netflix just a few hours after this bloggerisationism update was posted. It is, as suggested, an adaptation of
A Dream Of A Thousand Cats and Calliope. The former is an animated segment featuring the voices of, among others, Sandra Oh, Joe Lycett, David and Georgia Tennant, Michael Sheen, James McAvoy and Neil Gaiman his very self.
Calliope, stars Melissanthi Mahut in the title role and Arthur Darvill as Richard Madoc, plus Derek Jacobi and Nina Wadia, Souad Faress and Dinita Gohil reprising their role(s) as The Three Fates. So, that will rightly teach this blogger not to get all highfalutin and sneery in future. Apologies to Sam Moore. For
this, anyway, you're still not off the hook for all that 'graphic novels' nonsense! A review of the eleventh episode of the ten episode
The Sandman will be forthcoming in the next
From The North update.< br />
Finally on the subject of
The Sandman, this blogger very much enjoyed Mister Gaiman's measured response to some twonk of no importance on
Twitter making his loud gob flap.
That, dear blog reader, is what this blogger believes is called '
owning someone's ass.'
On Saturday, dear blog reader,
From The North's current favourite TV channel,
Talking Pictures TV, showed their own tribute to the late (and much-missed)
From The North favourite
Bernard Cribbins. The film they chose was a delight and, in many ways, sums up everything that's so great about TPTV, 1965's
Cup Fever.
Made under the banner of the Children's Film Foundation and directed and written by David Bracknell,
Cup Fever starred Bernard, David Lodge, Sonia Graham, Dermot Kelly, Johnnie Wade and Norman Rossington among the adult cast. The movie also saw the film debut of a fourteen year old Susan George and was the second movie of another fourteen year old, Olivia Hussey (she'd been in
The Battle Of The Villa Fiorita a few months earlier).
Barton United, a youth football team in Manchester - with names like Rocket, Twinkle, Nodder, Puncher, Big John, Fatso and Wee Willie - are ejected from the piece of waste ground where they play their home matches. Due, exclusively, to the dastardly shenanigans of a local councillor (played by David Lodge in excellent, snarling, moustache-twirling fashion). They struggle to find an alternative place to train for a forthcoming cup Semi-Final. Which will be against, of course, a team that is captained by the son of the dastardly councillor (who is, himself, every single bit as dastardly as his dastardly dad).
Thanks to a friendly and football-mad local plod (Bernard, of course), the team gets to spend a day training with Manchester United at Old Trafford; thus you get cameos from the likes of Georgie Best, Bobby Charlton, Denis Law, Nobby Stiles, Paddy Crerand
et al. And a rather charming one-scene appearance by manager Matt Busby who gives the lads a pep-talk and some useful advice on how to maximise their potential. Because, as we all know, it's a game of two halves, Brian and at the end of ninety minutes it'll be the team that scores the most goals which will emerge victorious. And on
that bombshell, back to the studio ...
Despite further despicable sabotage attempts from the opposing team and their dastardly captain (and his dastardly dad), the lads manage to make it to Altringham FC's ground, Moss Lane, where the final is to be played. Thanks to help from a fleet of local milkmen organised by the team's biggest fans, Vicky (Susan George), Jinny (Olivia Hussey) and Hovis (Amanda Humby), all of them sisters of members of the team. Because, this was the 1960s and girls didn't actually
play football, they just watched their big brothers doing it! Also, with the match taking place at The Alti, the lads soon discover that The Robins are definitely
not bobbins. Which is always good to know.
Barton, of course, go on to win the final two-nil and their captain, Vicky's brother, Skipper (Denis Gilmour) is presented with the cup by former Manchester City goalkeeper Bert Trautmann. A former Luftwaffe pilot and prison-of-war, Bert played for City throughout the 1950s and overcame initial anti-German hostility to became a widely respected legend of the game, particularly after he broke a bone in his neck in the 1956 Cup Final and still managed to play on for the final fifteen minutes.
That's hard.
It's a lovely little film; a bit of a time capsule back to those far off, nostalgic days when Manchester United had a team that
didn't get thrashed four-nil by Brentford to the absolute delight of the entire country. It is a fine example of the kind of sweet, family-friendly movies that the CFF used to churn out by the dozen during the era.
The movie is entertaining and somewhat ahead of its time in that two of the football team are played by non-white child actors, a definite rarity in the mid-1960s. Its 'plucky kids get the better of the nasty adults' plot would, no doubt, have gone down very well with the intended audience. Due to the presence of Susan and Olivia (both, of course, destined for lengthy and impressive subsequent film careers), it even has a minor footnote in movie history. Bernard is hardly the main focus of it (although, he
is top of the cast list) but he puts in his usual sympathetic and witty performance as a copper with a heart of gold. He must have liked the uniform as he seemingly reused it for his next film role, in
Daleks' Invasion Earth 2150 AD. It was, therefore, a suitable tribute to a quite brilliant all-round performer, national treasure and a wonderful human being.
The channel
did, also, show the somewhat better known
Two-Way Stretch a few days later just to put a nice big cherry on the Bernard-shaped cake.
On aspect of the
last From The North bloggerisationism update was whinged about by regular dear blog reader and
Facebook fiend of this blogger, Andrew. He complained: '[I've] had a 'Hup-Springs' earworm for a full day now, ya rotter!' So, in that case, there's little or no reason not to
do that again. This could become a regular
From The North occurrence.
Also seen on The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House tellybox this very week, was
From The North favourite Donald Sutherland rocking up as a guest on successive episodes of
The Champions (
Shadow Of The Panther) and
The Saint (
Escape Route) on ITV4. A useful remind of the period when Don and Shirley were resident in London and he was showing up in small-to-medium-sized roles in all manner of British TV dramas and the odd movie (
Gideon's Way,
The Avengers,
Man In A Suitcase,
Hamlet At Elsinore,
Lee Oswald - Assassin and, of course,
Doctor Terror's House Of Horrors).
And now, dear blog reader ...
Because, apparently, some dear blog readers are genuinely interested in knowing. We'll leave the question
why, exactly, for another day. The short answer to this is, the triple-bill of
Theatre Of Blood,
Scream & Scream Again and
The Dunwich Horror on
Caroline Munro's The Cellar Club last Friday. Needles to say, this blogger got the popcorn in for that one.
All of which brings us, nicely, to Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s (Or, In This Case, The Mid-1960). Number Sixty One: John Fraser: 'Are you playing hard to get? I've been waiting over an hour.' Catherine Deneuve: 'What for?' John Fraser: 'Well, not for
Christmas!'
Repulsion. Abso-fekking-lootly
terrifying, dear blog reader.
And yes, if you're wondering, that - memorable - sequence is,
indeed, where Mister Minge Urine and the rest of the Ultravoxers would appear to have gotten the idea for the cover to their (not very good) 'The Thin Wall' single. As was spotted by, this blogger thinks it was the
NME, at the time of release and criticised for
exactly that reason (they also found the song equally unoriginal). In fact, that may well have been where the description of Mister Minge Urine as 'faded Glam Queen of 76' first appeared.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s Number Sixty Two: Pippa Steele: 'Marcilla, you're so kind to me. I swear I'll
die when you leave.' Ingrid Pitt: 'I shall
never leave you.'
The Vampire Lovers. Together with
Twins Of Evil,
The Vampire Lovers was the movie that, as a twelve year old, taught this blogger (and, he presumes lots of other younglings of a similar vintage)
exactly what breasts were. And how jolly useful they could be.
This blogger adores
The Vampire Lovers; yes, it's cheesy and daft and all of the other things that it's been sneered at over the years by 'serious' horror critics - notably, Ingrid Pitt, in her thirties when the movie was made, playing a teenager. But it's also loads of fun.
Twins Of Evil (as previously mentioned) looms very large in this blogger's legend because it was one of the first horror movies he saw on
Appointment With Fear as a youngling (it might've, actually, been on the very week after
Dracula Has Risen From The Grave which this blogger is fairly certain
was the first horror movie he saw on TV, circa 1975). He came to
The Vampire Lovers slightly later but he loves it for all the reasons mentioned (and for yet another example of a class including some of the oldest schoolgirls in Europe).
The link between vampirism and softcore lesbian moistness is, obviously, the main focus of the film. But it's done without any real cynicism. We see, for example, lots of Ingrid and Maddy Smith romping around the bedroom in the nip. Add Kate O'Mara's icy, repressed governess into this mix and full-frontal lesbo antics are never more than a hasty edit away. One night of Sapphic passion with Carmilla, it would seem, turns Mme Perrodot into a lying, scheming wanton sex-bunny. And, we can
never have too many of those. There's the usual Hammer debate concerning rationalism versus superstition ('Illness is a matter for modern science, not witchcraft'). And, Peter Cushing is terrific, as always. However, the doctor's confusion between anaemia and anorexia nervosa suggests that we're still stuck in The Dark Ages. Just three important questions remain concerning this movie. Who, exactly,
is The Man In Black on horseback (John Forbes-Robertson)? Why is he laughing so much? And what the heck does he have to do with the plot? Answers of a postcard.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Comedy-Horror Movies Of The 1960s Number Sixty Three: Harry H Corbett: 'A young lady has disappeared and we're anxious to trace her whereabouts.' Kenneth Williams: 'Oh? Whereabouts?' Harry H Corbett: 'Hereabouts.' Jim Dale: 'At ten o'clock.' Harry H Crobett: 'Or thereabouts.' Peter Butterworth: 'In this vicinity.' Harry H Corbett: 'Or roundabouts.' Peter Butterworth: 'We're police officers.' Jim Dale: '... Or layabouts.'
Carry On Screaming.
Or, this blogger could have
easily gone for: 'Do you mind if I smoke?'
Remember, dear blog reader,
all of the clues point in but one direction.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s Number Sixty Four: Robert Tayman: 'You will live. Your children will die. To
give me back my life.'
Vampire Circus.
There's a beautiful sort of dream-like quality to
Vampire Circus. This was Hammer's one attempt to do something in a similar vein (s'cuse the pun) to Jean Rollin's contemporary vampire cycle (
La Vampire Nue et cetera). All of which had a similarly erotic yet also somewhat surreal quality to them.
Vampire Circus is also one of this blogger's favourites of that period; less a vampire movie more a kind of revenge Western (it you'd sampled vampires into
High Plains Drifter, for instance, you would've got, essentially, the same film!) It's also, of course, notorious in that it features the on-screen murder of children which, apparently, the BBFC were
very concerned about at the time.
Important questions arising from this movie: Did the word 'roadblock' actually exist in the early 1800s? Why, even after it becomes obvious that the circus is the centre of dreadful goings-on, do the villagers continue to attend? Why do the vampires enter the church in pursuit of Dora when it's full of crosses? Emil, for instance, even seems terrified by the church's
bells, a definite first for a vampire. And, the most important one, the twins Helga (twenty one year old Lalla Ward) and Heinrich (twenty one year old Robin Sachs) can be no older than fourteen and a few months, as it is confirmed to have been exactly fifteen years since their mother (Adrienne Corri) left the village. Yet they are both, clearly, older than that and also appear older than their, supposedly several-years-older half-sister, Dora (played by seventeen year old Lynne Fredericks). So, explain
that one and stay fashionable.
This of course, somewhat inevitably given the interests of many of this blogger's
Facebook fiends, led to a nice discussion on the rest of The Honourable Sarah Jill Ward-Baker-Dawkins' career in film and television. This blogger's contribution to which was to note that Lalla was
really good as a spoiled rich girl kidnap victim in
The Rainbow Ends Here episode of
Van Der Valk. And, she was also
very good as a spoiled rich girl going out with a chap whom her parents believe isn't good enough for her in the
Hazell episode
Hazell Meets The First Eleven. She was also (along with everyone else involved in the fiasco) absolutely
rubbish as a spoiled rich girl involved in an overcomplicated scheme to get Ray Doyle to reopen the investigation into a murder that her gangster father is currently doing life for in one of the worst episodes of
The Professionals,
When The Heat Cools Off. Not, perhaps, the most versatile of actresses, Lalla. But she's a genuinely lovely lady (this blogger has met her on a couple of occasions) and was, generally, a pleasant and attractive screen presence in just about everything she did (that bloody awful
Professionals episode notwithstanding). Except when she was playing a vampire, obviously.
Then, she was proper-scary.
Oh and she was also in some other stuff, apparently. This blogger's never seen it, personally, but he hears it's quite good.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s Number Sixty Five: Peter Arne: 'Sir Edward. I thought you'd been ...' Alister Williamson: '
Buried? Yes. Waking up in that horrible oblong box, no air to breathe, trapped and no escape. Earth raining down on the lid, every shovel full burying you more deeply.'
The Oblong Box.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s (Or, In This Case, The Early-1980s): Number Sixty Six: Sarah Patterson: 'I'd never let a man strike me.' Angela Lansbury: 'Oh, they're nice as pie until they've had their way with you. But once the bloom is gone ... the
beast comes out.'
The Company Of Wolves. The best British werewolf movie ever (or, certainly, since
The Curse Of The Werewolf)? Discuss.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s (Or, In This Case, The Late-1960s): Number Sixty Seven: Glynn Edwards: 'How's business?' Roy Hudd: 'Dead as a doornail!'
The Blood Beast Terror.
Even this blogger, who can usually find something to enjoy in just about every horror movie ever made and who has
written a book on the subject, struggles with this one. It's
shockingly poor, especially considering the pretty impressive cast it had. According to his autobiography, Peter Cushing regarded
The Blood Beast Terror as the worst film in his long and distinguished career. Roy Hudd has subsequently confirmed that, on meeting Peter in make-up on the first day of production, Peter had a
very low opinion of the script and that, between them, they decided to inject a little comedy into their scenes together. A couple of these also featured Glynn Edwards, another really good dry comic actor, who was also game for the idea. These scenes are, by a distance, the best bits of the film. Elsewhere, Wanda Ventham plays a vampire moth. Robert Flemyng (as this photographic evidence proves) looks pure-dead
startled throughout like he's turned up to the wrong movie. Cushing, when he's not cracking a few pithy one-liners, appears embarrassed to be there. Vernon Sewell who
did have some ability as a director, seems to be on auto-pilot. Andy Boot's history of British horror cinema,
Fragments Of Fear, sought - rather successfully - to reassess the career of Sewell, who had been long dismissed by some 'serious' critics as an unimaginative hack. Even Boot, however, admits that Sewell's work on
The Blood Beast Terror is 'competent, if uninspired.' God, this is
poor. It's not even, quite, in the 'so-bad-it's-brilliant' column. It's just
bad.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s: Number Sixty Eight: Joan Collins: 'What were you doing giving him a bath at this time of night?' Janet Key: 'He dirtied himself and he was in such a mess it seemed the simplest thing to do!'
I Don't Want To Be Born.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s (Or, In This Case, The Late-1960s): Number Sixty Nine: Sharon Tate: 'I got into the habit of it at school. You can't just change your habits in a couple of months, can you? Besides, it's good for your health. Once a day is the very least. Don't you agree?' Roman Polanski: 'Yes.' Sharon Tate: 'Do you mind if I have a quick one?' Roman Polanski: 'Huh? ... I don't mind at all.' Sharon Tate: 'Oh, thank you! You are being very nice. Now could you get me some hot water?!'
Dance Of The Vampires.
Or, indeed, Alfie Bass's reaction to Fiona Lewis holding up a crucifix: 'Oy vey, have you got
the wrong vampire!' Of course many dear blog readers will know this one under its US title,
The Fearless Vampire Killers, Or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are In My Neck. It was originally made, by Cadre Films, as
Dance Of The Vampires, released in the UK as
Dance Of The Vampires and every time it was shown on British TV in the 1970s and 1980s it was under the title
Dance Of The Vampires. On BBC2
at Christmas 1982, for example. In America, where MGM were distributing it, they decided to market it was a pure comedy rather than a horror film which included humour so they changed the title. MGM's Head Editor Margaret Booth and Head of Theatrical Post Production Merle Chamberlain cut twelve minutes' worth of material and added the animated prologue among other changes, Jack MacGowran's voice was re-dubbed to give Professor Abronsius a 'goofy' voice which would suit the comedy tone of the film. This was the version which was shown in the US for many years until Polanski's original cut was given a release in the 80s (to great reviews, the movie having previously been rather sniffily dismissed by 'serious' critics). The UK version is now the one that's available on home media and which most people will be familiar with
but under a shortened version of the US title (
The Fearless Vampire Killers). Confused? You will be.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s: Number Seventy: Stephanie Beacham: 'Haunted?' Ian Ogilvy: 'Yes, haunted. Ghosts galore. Headless horsemen, horseless headsmen, everything!'
~~ And Now The Screaming Starts.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s (Or, In This Case, The Late-1960s): Number Seventy One: Sarah Lawson: 'Show him out!' Charles Gray: 'I'm leaving ...
I shall not be back. But something will. Tonight! Something will come for Simon and the girl!'
The Devil Rides Out.
Memorably Daft Lines From British Horror Movies Of The 1970s: Number Seventy Two: Freddie Jones: 'You and I should feel like two old tombstones, my dear. If we're not careful, someone might come up and inscribe us.'
Goodbye Gemini.
Produced at a time when conservative groups were whinging, loudly, to anyone that would listen (and, indeed, anyone that wouldn't) about the perceived social excesses of 1960s British culture,
Goodbye Gemini, was released concurrently with Freddie Francis'
Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly, previously featured in this semi-regular feature. And another film which dealt with an unusual familial relationship and implied consensual incest. Debate still rages with regard to what, exactly, is the most horrible thing about
Goodbye Gemini; whether it was the story, the climax where Martin Potter chokes Judy Geeson to death or the truly
terrifying pair of outrageous sideburns that Alexis Kanner spots throughout the movie. This blogger's money is on the latter, personally.
Younglings now watch almost seven times less broadcast television than people aged over sixty five,
according to a report by regulator Ofcom. A politically-appointed quango, elected by no one. It said sixteen to twenty four-year-olds spend just fifty three minutes watching yer actual
proper TV each day, a two-thirds decrease in the past ten years. Meanwhile, those aged sixty five and over spend just under six hours on average watching TV daily. Which means that this fifty eight year old is, clearly, keeping everybody else's average up by watching, daily, enough for two pensioners. Hey, dear blog readers, what can this blogger say? It's a dirty job but
someone's got to do it. This 'generation gap' type malarkey in viewing habits is wider than ever before, according to Ofcom's annual
Media Nations report. Which concludes that this generation,
rules the nation. With version. Or something. Ofcom - just to repeat, a politically-appointed quango, elected by no one - attributed the gap to the use of television alternatives such as streaming services and short-form video. In its report, Ofcom said that about one-in-five UK homes had access to all three of the biggest streaming services - Netflix, Disney+ and Amazon Prime. It estimated over five million homes now had access to all three, which would cost about three hundred snots per year if they paid for them individually. However, it conceded that this figure included free trials and people who are 'sharing accounts' between households. Which sounds sensible but is probably terribly illegal. Ofcom also found that overall the number of homes subscribing to at least one streaming service had decreased by three hundred and fifty thousand. It blamed the pressure on household budgets as a result of a rise in the cost of living. No
shit? Jesus, with once-in-a-generation minds like what they have, clearly, it really
is a wonder we're in such a barrel of shite at the moment. But, Ofcom found - in a survey of people who cancelled their services - that three-quarters planned to renew their subscriptions when (or if) their circumstances changed. 'The streaming revolution is stretching the TV generation gap, creating a stark divide in the viewing habits of younger and older people,' said Ofcom's director of market intelligence, Ian Macrae. 'Traditional broadcasters face tough competition from online streaming platforms, which they're partly meeting through the popularity of their own on-demand player apps, while broadcast television is still the place to go for big events that bring the nation together such as the Euro final or the Jubilee celebrations.' In 2021, Ofcom found screen time - the average amount of time people spend watching video content across all devices - hit a daily average of five hours and forty minutes, nearly a third of an adult's waking hours. And, again, this blogger was clearly responsible for that total being as high as it was, given that he's doing two people's daily viewing. This decreased by twenty five minutes in the latest figures which found, on average, people spent fifty nine per cent of their screen time watching live or catch-up TV. Meanwhile, a third of adults in Great Britain watch short-form videos - or videos less than ten minutes in length - with sixty five per cent of eighteen to twenty four-year-olds watching them daily. Between going out, drinking lots of alcopops, happy-slapping innocent passers-by and going up the park and having some extremely disappointing The Sex with a same-sex partner of their choice. This number is vastly increased for younger audiences, with ninety three per cent of fifteen to seventeen-year-olds getting daily short-form videos from
YouTube, ninety per cent viewing on
Instagram and seventy three per cent watching on
TikTok. And, one hundred per cent of them in urgent need of a jolly good
slap. And, that's official, dear blog reader. Ofcom, a politically-appointed quango elected by no one, says this, so it
must be true. The report also looked into the type of short-form videos people are watching online and found 'how to' content - such as recipes or DIY - was the most viewed. Some fifty nine per cent of those who expressed a preference said that they 'engaged' with short news videos online, thirty two per cent said they watched videos 'about video games' and just over half of the adults surveyed said that they watched videos posted online by friends and family.
Why is another matter entirely.
NASA has
rolled out its giant new Moon rocket to prepare it for a maiden flight. Known as the Space Launch System, the vehicle was moved to Pad 39B at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida ahead of the expected lift-off on 29 August. The debut outing is a test with no crew aboard, but future missions will send astronauts back to the lunar surface for the first time in over fifty years. To see if it's changed in that time. Probably. The near one hundred metre-tall SLS rode an immense tractor to the pad. It started moving from its assembly building at Kennedy on Tuesday and had completed the four mile journey by just after sunrise on Wednesday morning. This is a key moment for NASA, which will celebrate in December the half-century anniversary of Apollo 17, the last human landing on the Moon. The agency has vowed to return with its new Artemis programme, using technology that befits the modern era (Artemis was Greek god Apollo's twin sister and goddess of the Moon). NASA sees a return to the Moon as a way to prepare to go to Mars with astronauts sometime in the 2030s or soon after. The SLS will have fifteen per cent more thrust off the pad than Apollo's enormous Saturn V rockets. This extra power, combined with further enhancements, will allow the vehicle to not only send astronauts far beyond Earth but, additionally, so much equipment and cargo that those crews could stay away for extended periods. And even follow Gerry Anderson by building moonbases, staffed by ladies with purple hair. Which would be
very cool. The crew capsule, also, is a step up in capability. Called Orion, it is much more spacious, being a metre wider, at five metres, than the historic command modules of the 1960s and 1970s. 'To all of us that gaze up at the Moon, dreaming of the day humankind returns to the lunar surface - folks, we're here! We are going back. And that journey, our journey, begins with Artemis 1,' said NASA Administrator Bill Nelson. Who, magnificently, gave up his promising rock and/or roll career in
Be-Bop Dexlue to undertake his current vocation. 'The first crewed launch, Artemis 2, is two years from now in 2024. We're hoping that the first landing, Artemis 3, will be in 2025,' he told the
BBC News website. NASA has promised that this third mission will witness the first woman to put her lady-boots down on the Moon's surface. Once the SLS arrives at its launch pad, engineers will have just over a week-and-a-half to get their shit sorted and make the vehicle ready for flight. Three possible launch opportunities exist at the end of the month, starting with Monday 29 August. If technical issues or inclement weather prevent the rocket from getting off Earth on this date, a further attempt can be made on Friday 2 September and, failing that, on Monday 5 September. If
that goes tits up too, there does not appear to be a 'Plan D'. The scope of the mission is to send Orion looping around the back side of the Moon before bringing it home for a splashdown in the Pacific Ocean off California. A major objective of the test fight is to check the heatshield on the capsule can survive the heat of re-entry into Earth's atmosphere. It is providing the propulsion module that sits on the back of Orion, pushing it through space. 'More than ten countries in Europe have been working on this European Space Agency contribution. It's a hugely important moment for us,' explained Siân Cleaver from aerospace manufacturer Airbus. 'The European Service Module is not just a payload, it's not just a piece of equipment - it's a really critical element because Orion can't get to the Moon without us.' Europe hopes its contribution to this and future SLS/Orion missions will eventually see a European national get to be part of a lunar surface crew at some point. For now, it will have to cheer on the British animated character Shaun The Sheep. A soft toy version of the TV favourite has been placed in the Orion capsule, complete with an ESA badge and Union flag on its overalls. While NASA is developing the SLS, the American rocket entrepreneur Elon Musk is preparing an even larger vehicle at his R&D facility in Texas. He calls his giant rocket the Starship and it will play a role in future Artemis missions by linking up with Orion to get astronauts down to the surface of the Moon. Like SLS, Starship has yet to have a maiden flight. Unlike SLS, Starship has been designed to be totally reusable and ought therefore to be considerably cheaper to operate. A recent assessment from the Office of Inspector General, which audits NASA programmes, found that the first four SLS missions would each cost more than four billion bucks to execute - a sum of money that was described as 'unsustainable.' The agency said that changes made to the way it contracts industry would bring down future production costs significantly. Because, of course,
that's what you really want to hear if you're sitting on a rocket waiting to blast off to the Moon - that it was built by the lowest bidder.
This blogger is not quite sure
why this here image of
From The North favourites Sir Declan and The Jesus of Cool Saint Nicholas is the greatest photograph that he's ever seen in all his born days, dear blog reader. But, it
is. Bar none.
'For the people in the cheaper seats, clap your hands,' alcoholic wife-beating Scouse junkie John Lennon instructed the 1963
Royal Variety Performance audience at The Prince Of Wales Theatre. 'The rest of you, if you'd just rattle your jewellery.' It was a cheeky line greeted by laughter and applause, part of an important performance that helped to catapult The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) to superstardom. Nearly sixty years on, memories of the show will be revived when autographs from all four Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them), from that night, are sold at auction. The lot is part of an annual Be-Atles auction in Liverpool, which is still going strong after more than thirty years, testament to the band's enduring legacy. And to the fact that people are
still finding crap in their attics that George Harrison once
touched. Allegedly.
Later this month, fans will be able to buy concert programmes, signed photos and other memorabilia which includes a brick. But, it's no ordinary brick. It's a
Be-Atles brick. Sort of. And, the net curtains which hung in the window of Sir Ringo Starr (MBE)'s house.
After he left. This blogger is
not making this up, dear blog reader. It's in
the Gruniad Morning Star, so it
must be true. 'The auctions are always hugely popular,' said Stephen Bailey, manager of The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) Shop in Mathew Street, which organises the auctions. 'There is so much interest. Even ticket stubs are going through the roof these days. If you find a little ticket stub for a Be-Atles concert you went to, you're looking at at least two hundred knicker.'
The variety show autographs are from November 1963. 'It was a huge night for The Be-Atles (a popular beat comb of the 1960s, you mightv'e heard of them),' said Bailey. 'It really catapulted them into the national consciousness. It helped them become amazingly famous.' More famous even than Famous Beethoven. In the royal box were the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret. At the end, The Be-Atles (a popular beat comb of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) joined other acts including Marlene Dietrich and Burt Bacharach, Harry H Corbett and Wilfrid Brambell, Harry Secombe, Tommy Steele, Max Bygraves, The Joe Loss Orchestra and the
Pinky & Perky puppeteers Jan and Vlasta Dalibor for a rousing rendition of The National Anthem. The Be-Atles autographs were obtained by the actor Gerald James - one of Secombe's 'Pickwickians' that night - for his daughter. That must've been a familiar line The Be-Atles (a popular beat comnbo of the 1960s, you've might've heard of them) were told back-stage that evening: 'Can you sign this? It's not for me, it's for me kids!' As Elvis Costello confirms in his - superb - autobiography
Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink (Viking Publishing, 2015), own father, Ross MacManus one of the singers with The Joe Loss Orchestra, obtained the signatures of John, Paul, George and Ringo for a then ten year old Declan. Who, subsequently cut the signatures from the single piece of paper on which they'd signed their John Hancocks so he could stick them in his autograph book. To the absolute
horror of Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) memorabilia collectors,
everywhere. Bailey said James's piece of paper contained the only (still in tact) full set of autographs from that evening of which he was aware and, along with a photograph from the night, they are expected to fetch
five grand. That sound you hear, dear blog reader, that's Elvis Costello
being sick. The auction lots also include a brick from The Cavern, one of five thousand salvaged by Royal Life Insurance in 1983 during a redevelopment of the site.
Each brick was sold for five quid at the time, with the proceeds going towards the Strawberry Field [sic] Children's Home. Which had been demolished a decade earlier so it'd be interesting to know what the money was
actually used for. Today the brick is estimated to be worth five to six hundred smackers. Or, ten pee if used to prop up a car that someone had just nicked the tyres from. Well, dear blog reader, this
is Liverpool we're talking about after all.
Bailey too has a similar brick, although he has no plans to sell his yet. 'I've still got it at home, it's called my pet brick,' he said. Other lots include a pair of net curtains from Ringo Starr's childhood home on Admiral Grove in The Dingle.
Not from Ringo's time living there, admittedly, but from many years later when a subsequent owner would have fans taking photographs outside on an almost daily basis. 'These net curtains will have appeared in every fan picture you have ever seen of Ringo's house,' said Bailey, somewhat desperately. Though to be fair, they were situated next to a window that Ringo probably once
breathed on. Or near. Also up for sale are
fake Be-Atles signatures, made by Mal Evans; a 1964 'Make a Date With the Be-Atles' calendar and a collection of 1960s concert programmes. Bailey has had people coming in to offer Be-Atles associated malarkey for sale for decades. Sometimes they even come with fake Cavern club bricks. One of the most eye-opening offers was John Lennon's lavatory, he said. Just think of the shit
that saw. 'The guy had all the paperwork for it. He worked on replacing all John Lennon's plumbing at Tittenhurst Park.'
Please tell us he came in through the bathroom window, mate. 'He kept it as a flowerpot in his back garden for years. We said it was going to sell for either a thousand or ten thousand [knicker]. It sold for then ten thousand eventually.'
Ironically, dear blog reader, just about the only thing
not for sale, is this.
US media group Warner Brothers Discovery is to sell its stake in GB News, in a shake-up which has seen the loss-making television channel's co-founders
sell-up and resign as directors and the remaining backers step forward with a further sixty million knicker in cash. The fledgling news channel, which originally said its first sixty million smackers fund-raising last January would last for three years, has tapped Legatum Ventures and hedge fund boss Paul Marshall for more funds after just eighteen months. The company also announced that co-founders Andrew Cole and Mark Schneider, who set up GB News' parent company last February, have resigned as directors and sold their stakes in the business. Warner Brothers Discovery said its decision to leave GB News was 'due to a rationalisation of its portfolio' following the merger of Discovery and WarnerMedia. Discovery was the first major investor in GB News injecting twenty million notes of the first sixty million round of funding last January. Legatum then matched that investment becoming the venture's joint biggest shareholder. Discovery's desire to leave the venture and barely let the door hit its arse on the way out first emerged in June. 'Following the merger between Discovery and WarnerMedia earlier this year our portfolio now includes several wholly owned news brands including CNN Worldwide, TVN Group in Poland and Newshub in New Zealand,' a spokesperson for WBD said. 'In light of this and our continued evaluation of our global and local investment portfolio, we have exited our investment in GB News and are no longer shareholders.' The latest round of funding has been led by existing investors Legatum Ventures, the Dubai-based investment firm co-founded by GB News chairman Alan McCormick and Marshall. Legatum and Marshall have bought the stakes held by Discovery, Cole and Schneider. 'This is testament to our confidence in the momentum and trajectory of GB News after a very strong first year,' McCormick claimed. One or two people even
believed him. 'Our additional investment means the channel will embark on robust and exciting plans for the next stage of its growth and development.'
Keith Telly Topping had a rather odd and somewhat unsettling experience on Friday, dear blog reader. What can he say? His life is chock-full of just such odd (though, usually, not
too unsettling) experiences. A few days previously, he had received an - unsolicited -
Facebook fiend request from someone that, as far as this blogger is aware, he didn't previously know (given that the individual was based somewhere in New York State, it's unlikely that we've previously met). But it was someone who,
Facebook informed this blogger, had at least
one mutual fiend of Keith Telly Topping. Normally, when this blogger receives such fiend requests he has a quick look for any mutual fiends that the requester may have and the vast majority of the requests which Keith Telly Topping receives are from people within the
Doctor Who or wider TV fandom-related circles who are also fiended-up with others whom this blogger has known for years. So, there's a general sense of 'well, they're
probably all right, then.' Other than that, this blogger usually has a glance at the home pages of fiend requesters just to see if there any obvious warning signs of the 'psycho right-wing nut job' variety. Usually, thankfully, there are not. And, to be honest, this blogger really doesn't mind interacting with people who are 'a bit odd' (aren't we all?) It's the 'a
lot odd' ones that you've got to watch out for, dear blog reader. So, you lot know this blogger well - he'll, happily, accept a fiend request from any old Thomas, Richard or Harriet as he enjoys talking to people generally and, particularly, about areas of shared mutual interest. Thus, with no obvious reason why he shouldn't, he clicked 'accept' and thought no more about the matter. Until Friday, when he received a personal message from this joker asking this blogger why Keith Telly Topping was 'ignoring' him. And being generally really abusive in a very unattractive 'me, me, me, me,
me' sort of way. So, this blogger wrote back to him and asked, not unreasonably, 'sorry ... who
are you, exactly?'
Not a good move, it turned out. Anyway, this sort of thing is exactly what
Facebook's excellent 'block' facility was designed for but it does, yet again, demonstrate that there are some bloody
strange individuals out there in Interwebland. To the other four hundred and thirty odd people this blogger has currently fiended-up on
Facebook, don't worry, Keith Telly Topping loves you all and you're not in the least bit strange. Unless you
are but are happy to be so, in which case, good on ya, you have this blogger's full support in your self-identified strangeness.
This blogger believes that he's only ever stuck a handful of people into the actual block file. Maybe ten or fifteen. No more than that. He's unfiended
plenty over the years for one reason or another, to be fair (usually 'disagreeing with me that bit too forcefully'!) but this blogger never takes the ultimate sanction and put someone on
Ze List without a serious reason behind it; usually it's a case of implied racism or other signs of a shitty mind at work. Or, in a couple of cases, people who've been asked to cease and desist certain scummy behaviour and have decided, for their own reasons, that they weren't prepared for that eventuality. One does rather wonder why such individuals came, seemingly willingly, into Keith Telly Topping's orbit in the first place with such attitudes? Surely they realise this blogger is the very definition of a living saint? Or, maybe their rationale was, always, that they wanted to cause some trouble. There was, for instance - on this blogger old
Facebook page a few years ago - one guy whom this blogger used to go to school with who turned up made a few pleasant noises so this blogger fiended him up. Despite the fact that Keith Telly Topping didn't really like him when were at school (this chap was bit of a bully, if truth be told). He then spent the next fortnight making various increasingly sarky, sly and unlikable comments ('have you ever had an
actual job?' he asked this blogger at one point, completely out of the blue). Until he finally revealed his true, odious, colours by calling this blogger a 'cnut' [sic] when this blogger had a mild comedy whinge about not being able to get a particular type of cheese that Keith Telly Topping likes at Asda that morning. It's nice to see that fourteen year old school bullies turn, as if by magic, into overgrown school bullies in their
fifties. Needless to say, that waste-of-oxygen went
straight into The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House Interweb block zone where he remains to this day. Mind you, dear blog reader, he really
was a 'cnut.' So, seemingly, an old saying which this blogger's mother was so fond of, was true. It really
does take one to know one.
There was also, of course, that infamous clown who
didn't take kindly to getting un-fiended on
Facebook when this blogger was having a general clear-out two or three years back. He got the heave-ho, if you're wondering, for being a bore who wouldn't shut the fek up when he was asked - politely - to do so. He then decided, it would appear, to make war not love on this blogger by spam-bombing
From The North's comments section with his furious bile and, ultimately, caused this blogger to, regretfully, close this blog's comments facility. Because, frankly, life is too short for
that sort of bollocks on a daily basis. This blogger's general rule - and, as previously noted, he's acquired at least one Interweb stalker because of it - is this: He will talk to whomsoever he wants to. And he
won't talk to whomsoever he doesn't want to.
That's his right. Their right, if they don't like it, is to piss off and not come back. Which is, this blogger thinks, a sensible and mature course of action in comparison to 'being a pillock'.
This blogger is indebted to one of his beast
Facebook fiends for pointing him in the direction of the next piece. 'Surely,' this blogger's fiend noted, 'one of the most gratingly tone-deaf things you can possibly do in the wake of
a violent attack on a well-known author is to go on
Twitter and make a cutesy little poll about death threats. The only thing which could possibly make that worse is if you happened to be Chair of the Management Committee of the Society of Authors.' Well, indeed. 'Even if there were no other agenda here, the timing and the jaunty tone are so cloth-eared as to beggar belief.' The tweet was soon deleted after it was pointed out to the author that this might not, perhaps, be the most sensitive time to be discussing such a subject. But, it was then replaced with another one, worded slightly differently because, she felt, she 'got the tone wrong.' You
think?
At this point in proceedings - and with a terrible inevitability of the terribly inevitable - to the part of
From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going medical malarkey. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going fiasco which appears to have been on-going longer than the flight to the edge of the solar system of Voyager II, it goes like this: Keith Telly Topping
spent some weeks feeling rotten; had
five days in hospital; was
discharged; received
B12 injections; then
more injections; somewhat recovered his missing
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 ages to
heal; had
another consultation; spent a week where
nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given
further - painful - B-12 injections; had an
echocardiogram; had more
blood extraction; did another
hospital visit; saw the insomnia and torpor
continue;
returned to the hospital for
yet more blood letting; had
a rearranged appointment to get his latest note from his doctor; suffered probably
his worst day yet in terms of fatigue. The depressing,
fatigue. The
never-ending fatigue.
So, this blogger was standing in a - shortish - queue waiting to order his weekly meat injection at yer actual Morrisons on Tuesday morning. At which point he discovered, to his complete shock and befuddlement that, not only have
all the prices gone up but, also, that he was singing away, absent-mindedly, to Jennifer Warnes and Joe Cocker on Morrisons chosen Monday morning in-store tape,
Now That's What I Call The Abject Horror Of The 80s (The Era That Taste Forgot) Volume 641. 'Oh no,' this blogger thought to his very self, 'it would appear that I have, at fifty eight, become everything that I set out to destroy as a sixteen year old. Should I just end it all now, or what?' Be assured, dear blog readers, that this blogger
really needed (and, probably deserved)
this to help him overcome the sense of shame and distress of his situation.
If anyone wanted this blogger for the next couple of days, therefore, he was locked in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House playing
Give 'Em Enough Rope,
All Mod Cons,
This Year's Model,
Singles Going Steady and
Never Mind The Bollocks at
vast volume in penance and in an effort to recover his lost-in-action dignity.
Unused for over two years since a new central heating system got installed, Gilbert, the Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House gas fire which had been with Keith Telly Topping since he moved into the gaff in 1989 is now a thing of the past. Having been removed from the premises by a lovely chap from the council's gas servicing team (there's a 'The Gasman Cometh ... And Goeth' joke in there somewhere if anyone cares to go searching for it, dear blog readers). Now, it has been replaced as a non-permanent fixture of the living room by a sodding great hole in the wall covered up by a sheet of aluminium and some sticky tape. The plasterers are, it is estimated, due in about 'six weeks. But it could be longer.'
This blogger's most excellent fiend, Deborah, suggested 'what you need is a poster, like in
The Shawshank Redemption only, in your case, with scantily clad vamps from the British Horror genre.' What could this blogger do, dear blog reader, but comply? So, now it looks like
this.
And now it's time, dear blog reader, for the
From The North Headline Of The Week award. Which, this week, hands down goes to the legend that is
Spalding Today. Congratulations, all you Spaldingites.
Though, that said, the
Daily Mirra's
Family Have Two Kettles - And What They Use Second One For 'Should Be Illegal' is worthy of, at the very least, a 'what the actual fek'? This blogger also highly recommends the
Independent's
Tom Kerridge Explains Why His Pub Charges Eighty Seven Quid For [A] Steak. Err, is it because some people have got more money than sense?
Yahoo News reports that
Jeremy Corbyn Suffers Black Eye & Split Lip After Tripping Over Tree Branch. Presumably, come The Glorious Day, Comrades, all trees will be rounded up, put in a field and
felled.
A rock and/or roll fan
reportedly beat a fellow jigg-goer senseless following a row over the glare off his balding bonce allegedly 'spoiling the view of the band,' a court was told. Andrew Ridley is accused of attacking the unnamed man at the O2 Academy in Birmingham in 2019 whilst watching Canadian hard rock and/or roll quartet Monster Truck (no, me neither but, apparently, they're a popular beat combo, m'lud). The alleged victim was knocked unconscious and suffered a bleed to the brain as a result of the incident. Ridley has denied causing grievous bodily harm with intent and an alternative charge of inflicting grievous bodily harm. When later questioned, Ridley said: 'He hit me first so I hit him back.' The case continues.
Things really
are tough at the moment, dear blog reader. Just ask this author of this heartfelt letter published this week by that bastion of social justice, the
Daily Torygraph.
For all
Gruniad Morning Star readers, meanwhile,
here is a jolly fine example of what 'graphic novels' used to be like back in the 1950s before all you 'fashionable' types started reading them.
Congratulations are also considerably due to the
Gruniad Morning Star for publshing the single most
Gruniad Morning Star type think-piece ever written, Brigid Delaney's anguished
How Can We Shift The Bad Vibes That Seem All Around? Be OK [sic] With Being Wrong & Don't Have An Opinion On Everything. A piece, incidentally, which was originally called
Dial Down the Heated Dinner-Party Rhetoric, You Don't Have To Have An Opinion On Everything. Just imagine
such shenanigans, dear blog reader? A
Gruniad Morning Star reader - at an average Middle Class hippy Communist dinner-party - dialling down the rhetoric,
admitting to 'being wrong' and
not having an opinion. On
everything. Chance'd be a
fine thing.
Perhaps the greatest moment in the entire history of social media also occurred this week, dear blog reader. It kind of restores ones faith in the basic decency of humanity, does it not?
Meanwhile, Bashing Bozza's
likely replacement at Number Ten
says that she does not believe
energy firm's profits are 'evil'. Which, one trusts
everyone will remember, a) when they get their next bill for a thousand quid just to heat the house and b) when it comes to sticking an 'X' in a box at the next general erection. Other memorable Truss-tastic moments this week include the
suggestion that we are all lazy. Well, that certainly
would appear to be the case with her predecessor.
Rishi Sunak's uncanny habit of somewhat awkward interactions with the
real world has continued after he
talked of enjoying McDonald's breakfast wraps - an item that disappeared from the fast food chain's UK menu nearly two-and-a-half years ago. The former chancellor was speaking to ITV's
This Morning a day after he was photographed at a branch of McDonald's, where he appeared to struggle to make a contactless card payment. Asked by hosts Rochelle Humes and Andi Peters what he had eaten, Sunak explained that it had been about 7.30am and so he ate a bacon roll with ketchup and pancakes. 'If I'm with my daughters then we get the wrap,' the Conservative leadership runner-up continued. 'My eldest daughter - if I'm with her, it's the wrap with hash browns and everything in it. It's what we do.' However, a McDonald's spokesperson confirmed that the chain stopped selling breakfast wraps in March 2020, a move made permanent with an announcement in January this year.
Meanwhile, the long-time financial chief of now extremely former President Mister Rump's company has
pleaded very guilty to fraud and tax evasion charges at a New York court. Allen Weisselberg, who served as The Rump Organisation's chief financial officer, had been charged with concealing more than 1.7 million dollars in off-the-books income. He is expected to be sentenced to five months in The Jopint at the notorious Rikers Island and must pay back the owed money. Now extremely former President Mister Rump has not been charged with anything. Yet.
And finally, dear blog reader, this blogger knew a Fanny Fidler, once. True story.
Most of last week, for example, it was mad-hot, dear blog reader. Particularly at the weekend. 
The BBC News website created a rather helpful page where one could type in ones postcode and it would tell one just, exactly, how hot it was in your general vicinity. This blogger did so and the page suggested that it was, indeed, blummin' hot in and around The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. 
The latest (love is like a) heatwave reached its peak on Sunday having caused general havoc and droughts, been responsible for the break-out of a shitload of wild fires, affected the homeless, created chaos at the footie and, generally, made just about everyone in the land all tetchy and rather cross with life in general. Not that they weren't anyway, what with the cost of living and fuel price crisis. But, the heat just made it that bit worse because you couldn't afford to switch on an electric fan to try and cool down a bit. 
Then, it started to rain. A lot. The Met Office issued a 'Danger To Life' thunderstorm warning which seemed a bit, you know, over-the-top given that - what with all that lightning about - surely every thunderstorm is a potential danger to life? Not to mention being, you know, very, very frightening indeed. Yes, we will let that one go. Ironically, whilst most of the rest of the country was getting pissed down upon from high a-top this thing on Monday, the area around The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House was having yet another hot, muggy, uncomfortable day and, especially, night (so hot, in fact that The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House fridge started leaking, leaving a small but noticeable puddle on the kitchen floor). The rain, thankfully, did eventually arrive on Tuesday and things cooled down, somewhat. Which seemed like a blessing until the road outside started flooding. 
