Greetings, all. Welcome y'are to the latest From The North bloggerisationism is the area and all that and everything. Hit the Blog Signal really hard Keith Telly Topping and let's go.
Okay, you lovely blog people, get yourselves right good and proper ready for some Premier League malarkey and shenanigans over the following extended period. Excluding any and all points deductions for alleged financial irregularities, obviously. Oh no, very hot water ...
Starting off with an snapshot from Keith Telly Topping's weird and wacky world. This blogger was walking idly around Byker Morrisons pushing his trolley and buying the Stately Telly Topping Manor weekly shopping a week gone Monday (£46.35 for those dear blog fiends taking notes). Then, all of a sudden, 'Little By Little' comes on the instore radiogram-tannoy-type-thingy. This blogger immediately started mouthing along with the lyrics, because he loves that song - one of Noel's most perfectly constructed little pop classics. 'We, the people, fight for our existence/We don't claim to be perfect, but we're free.' Rite on, brother. Then, looking around, Keith Telly Topping, noticed that more or less the entire shop had turned into something very just like that time 'Hey Jude' was premiered on The David Frost Show. The entire supermarket was threatening to transform itself into the gloriously life-affirming song and dance routine from Belfast. Everyone was singing. Well not everyone, obviously, this blogger is sure they'd've been a little old lady, somewhere in Aisle Six buying hairnets and dogfood, blissfully unaware of what the blithering fek was going on and keeping her gob, wisely, shut. But, in this blogger's line of sight at the very least, there were guys in their 50s and 60s (just like this blogger) with greying hair and spectacles, all singing. Young mothers pushing prams were singing. An Asian couple were both singing. One of the lads stocking shelves was singing. Punks and skins and rastas were holding hands and singing. Even a couple of teenage radji-gadgies with their, presumably, geet charva girlfriends, all of them were mouthing along to the self-same words ('you know I don't mean, what I just said/But my God woke up on the wrong side of his bed') with looks of pure unadulterated pleasure on their collective mush. This blogger must write to yer man Gallagher to inform him that what this blogger has for a long time suspected appears, actually, to be true; Oasis really can bring together all creeds and nations in peace and harmony like ebony and ivory, piano, keyboard, oh Lord, why can't we? Rock and roll, dear blog fiends. Is there anything it can't achieve?
Anyway, as previously announced on the last From The North blog update and repeated here because, you know, this is Keith Telly Topping's blog and he can repeat whatever the Hell he likes if he wants to, Bride of a Vault of Horror - A Book of Seventy Two Great* British** Films of 'Mystery & Suspense From 1933 to 1986 (* And not so great) (** Plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish), a book written by this very blogger is now supremely available for pre-order. From the world's greatest publisher, Telos. Here, to be precise. 'From The Ghoul to Gothic - seventy two British 'mystery and suspense' films [plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish making seventy eight in total] which collectively made a lasting impression on the psyche of a nation. Author Keith Topping examines more of the films which shaped his childhood [except for the several that he didn't catch until he was into his twenties], taking a wry and often irreverent look [it says here] at their triumphs and failings, their stars, their continuity blunders and impact on the genre as a whole. Illustrated with many rare black and white photographs, this is one film guide guaranteed to raise a smile as we take you back to more memories of yesteryear. 613pp. 6×9 trade paperback, ISBN: 978-1-84583-270-4, publication date 31 October 2026.'
If you haven't already been kind enough to do so then this blogger implores you with deep and lasting humility to please consider buying one, several or lots. Keith Telly Topping, as well you know, remains a thoroughly self-unemployed author, journalist, broadcaster and blogger with a growing Blu-ray collection and a salt and chilli King Prawn with boiled rice habit to support. It's a monkey that he simply can't get off his back. Not that he particularly wants to, if truth be told. The book, incidentally, is also available for pre-order on Amazon, here. Though both this blogger and his publisher would, obviously, prefer it if you ordered direct from the publisher's website, here. Mainly because they do, actually pay their taxes (but, also, small additional point: because this blogger makes a tiny bit more in royalties from direct sales). Anyway thank you, all, for allowing Keith Telly Topping into your Interwebs (and, indeed, your wallets). And, if you're looking for a specific reason to buy the book in question, then please consider this here extract, from the Introduction (page ten), by way of a taster as to the rest of the contents.
Is this illustration in any way representative of you or any of your fiends when you're watching one of them there horror movies at your local kinematographic palace of entertainment, dear blog reader? If so, then you really, really need to pre-order a copy of yer actual Keith Telly Topping's Bride of a Vault of Horror - A Book of Seventy Two Great* British** Films of 'Mystery & Suspense From 1933 to 1986 (* And not so great) (** Plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish). Which, just to remind you all, is available from here. Go on. You know you want to.
As we wait - patiently - for the forthcoming release of Bride of a Vault of Horror - A Book of Seventy Two Great* British** Films of 'Mystery & Suspense From 1933 to 1986 (* And not so great) (** Plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish) at the end of this month, should any dear blog fiends be of a mind to do so, they can also order one, two or all three of this blogger's previous volumes on British horror, SF and fantasy films from the tremendous and ground-breaking Telos Publishing (available here, here and here). Unless you already have ordered one, two or all three of them, obviously. In which case, this blogger wishes it to be known that you, collectively, remain the greatest blog fiends that ever there was and, this blogger, humbly, thanks you all for allowing him into your Interwebs (and, indeed, your wallets).
As the previous Stately Telly Topping Manor project nears its long-awaited publication date, the current Stately Telly Topping Manor project, Beyond a Vault of Horror - A Study of Seventy Further Great* British Tales of 'Mystery & Suspense' 1936-1981 (* and not so great) - the fourth part of the A Vault of Horror tetralogy (or, technically, fifth if you count Island of Terror) - is now well into the final month of its editing process before delivery to the publishers. Which, ironically, is scheduled to take place on the very day that its predecessor, Bride of a Vault of Horror - A Book of Seventy Two Great* British** Films of 'Mystery & Suspense From 1933 to 1986 (* And not so great) (** Plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish), is due for release, 31 October. At the time of writing this blogger has made his way pretty much through the entire manuscript accompanied by a magnifying glass and a fine-tooth-comb and is about to start the entire process all over again, looking for spelling and grammatical errors, factual mistakes, logic flaws, non-sequiturs, cul-de-sacs, bits of verbal diarrhoea (of which there are plenty) and the like. So far, the process is still something of a novelty and hasn't, yet, turned into a bloody chore (which it will, undoubtedly, become at some stage before the delivery date - it always does).
'Will that be all, Mister Telly Topping?'
'Yes, Ms Astro-File, I'll let you know when I need anything else, ahem, taking down.'
Since last yer actual Keith Telly Topping blogged to y'all, dear From The North fiends, there have been not one - not one, please note - but two epic fortnightly luncheonette sessions occasioned between this blogger and From The North's excellent fiend, That There Young Malcolm. Firstly, there was a long, lazy and languid Thursday afternoon in The Keel Row. It was, inevitably, pure dead gear and more than a shade tasty.
However, that was, effortlessly, topped and put into total perspective and shame a mere but twelve days later by a totally fab Tuesday lunchtime trip to From The North favourite the Amaysia. Which started off like this.
Followed, immediately, by that.
Which - in jolly short order - ended up looking like this.
After which there was just the merest hint of the other.
Then, as usual, the pair of us went for a leisurely mooch around HMV; where the afternoon rapidly turned from a memorable Chinese experience into a memorably Italian one. Not a bad day all round. No sir, indeedy, not bad at all.
Carrying on, most urgently, with today's The Stately Telly Topping Manor 'from the Glass Half-Full column' sample.
This blogger is not sure the bright idea of whom it was to stick Saint Keef in goal of The Stones five-a-side team. He'd be an effing liability, what with all the heroin and everything. Surely Charlie would be the obvious keeper out of that lot. Better positional sense, clearly. Can't argue with the choice of The Big Lad up front, though. Twenty goals a season and nineteen nervous breakdowns.
Be advised, dear blog fiends, apparently it would seem that 'the puzzle continues.' Which is fascinating to know, is it not?
Here, now, is an important From The North public service announcement. For once, without guitars.
And, straight after that, we present another one. Like London buses, it would seem, you wait ages for a Stately Telly Topping Manor public service announcement (without guitars) to turn up and then two of them come along at once.
Things that this blogger learned from the current Stately Telly Topping Manor book of the month (and, indeed, the year), David Brunt's seminal The Doctor Who Production Diaries, Volume 2: The Troughton Years (Telos Publishing, 2026). Number Forty Seven (in an ongoing series). Page 219: The divine Goddess that is From The North favourite Gabrielle Drake was one of a (large) number of actresses that auditioned (or was, at least, considered) for the role of Victoria Waterfield (4 April 1967). In an alternate timeline, therefore, it is entirely conceivable that it would have been she, rather than the divine Goddess that was Alexandra Bastedo, who became the first woman - besides his mother - to whom this blogger gave complete and total unrequited love as a five year old.
As a consequence, however, this blogger also has this bizarre image of From The North favourite and this blogger's one-time cruise companion the late (and much-missed) Debbie Watling wearing a purple wig on UFO going on in Keith Telly Topping's, clearly overactively stimulated, brain. Which will, hopefully, soon pass as it's really disturbing.
Still, as a definite bonus, any and all references to the late and much-missed Deborah Watling on this very blog are always a jolly good excuse (if one were needed) for this blogger to dig out this particularly photo from the Stately Telly Topping Manor files and republish it. Cos, reasons, okay.
And, indeed, any and all references to the divine Goddess that is Gabrielle Drake on this very blog are always a jolly good excuse (if one were needed) for this blogger to dig out this - truly astonishing - image from the Stately Telly Topping Manor files and republish it, too. It's a dirty job, dear blog fiends, but someone has to do it. And, by someone, this blogger's of course, means him.
Also let it be noted that any and all references to the divine Goddess that was Alexandra Bastedo on this very blog are always a jolly good excuse (if any excuse were needed) for this blogger to dig out this photo from the Stately Telly Topping Manor files and republish it. This blogger repeats, it's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.
Meanwhile, from a completely different source, Debbie Watling's immediate predecessor in the TARDIS, the Divine Goddess that is Anneke Wills - The Rock and Roll Years!
It should go without saying at this juncture that any and all references to Anneke Wills on this very blog are a necessary excuse (if any excuse were needed) for this blogger to dig out this photo from the Stately Telly Topping Manor files - taken, seemingly, in the lobby of The Ad-Lib Club (or more likely, The Inferno discothèque) - and republish that as well. Hey man, it's ma job.
And, speaking of the divine Anneke: Things this blogger learned from David Brunt's seminal The Doctor Who Production Diaries, Volume 2: The Troughton Years (Telos Publishing, 2026). Number Forty Eight (in an ongoing series). Page 92-93: During early December 1966 (exact date unknown) Anneke and her then-husband, Michael Gough, got a new lodger at their palatial three-storey home at 54 Hurlingham Road, Fulham - Anneke's then Doctor Who castmate, Michael Craze. Michael moved in replacing their former lodger, the actor and screenwriter Olaf Pooley, at the time playing the title-role in Southern Television's adaptation of The Master but, a few years later, better known to Doctor Who viewers as Professor Stahlman in Inferno. Pooley remained a close friend of Gough in particular, scripting one of Gough's finest film roles, the tyrannical, abusive Walter Eastwood in The Corpse, as previously discussed at some length a particular From The North favourite. And a film which is now, after many years of relative obscurity due to complex contractual malarkey, available on Blu-ray in the country in which it was made. Albeit, under the ghastly alternative American title. You can't have everything, one supposes? After all, where would you keep it?
Which moves us on, as if this blogger had planned it that way all along (which he didn't by the way), to: Things this blogger learned from David Brunt's seminal The Doctor Who Production Diaries, Volume 2: The Troughton Years (Telos Publishing, 2026). Number Forty Nine (in an ongoing series). Page 320: The Friday 15 September 1967 episode of Junior Points Of View - broadcast the day before episode three of The Tomb Of The Cybermen - featured three (seemingly extremely opinionated) Wiltshire schoolgirls 'expressing their [considerable] dislike of Doctor Who. One commented: "It's disgusting, it's disgraceful, stupendously stupid. Doctor Who, I mean, with his Daleks, police boxes, moon monsters and goodness knows what else. It's enough to drive you round the bend." Another pleaded: "Please, please, please, please get rid of Doctor Who."' A fortnight later, on 29 September (page 332), another of Junior Points Of View episode 'featured a number of viewer letters defending Doctor Who against the complaints made about it in previous edition. One, named Marie McGregor, says: "I think the lassies who objected to Doctor Who should have their minds brainwashed."' Clearly, dear blog fiends, there was then and remains now only one justifiable way for the young ladies in question to sort this shit out and decide, once and for all, who's right and who's wrong about Who.
However, some 'interested parties' weren't going to let the young ladies deal with this issue on their own and wished to take Marie up on the whole 'brainwashing' (and/or exterminating) thing. 'You have to change twice, at East Grinstead and then Marinus, pal.'
'It was not me, it was the other three ...'
Oh no! Power cut! Dis-aster.
Time, this blogger believes, for an advertising infomercial break. Here is what one hundred women across Europe replied when asked to name their go-to shampoo.
Yer actual Keith Telly Topping's Continuing Adventures on Geoguesser, an update: It's been a bit of a mixed bag of late, it truth be told. This, for instance, demonstrates what happens when what's looking like a reasonably impressive round gets scuppered into insignificance by an inability on Keith Telly Topping's part to tell the difference between rural Brazil and São Tomé and Príncipe (due to the fact that they both speak Portuguese. At least, that's this blogger's excuse and he's thoroughly sticking to it).
And, on a somewhat similar theme, merely but a few days later, this is what happens when Keith Telly Topping gets all confused and discombobulated and mixes up Brazil and Malaysia then mistakes Southern Lithuania for Northern Lithuania on what would have been an otherwise very good round indeed.
And, there was what was also a potential Stately Telly Topping Manor record score getting right ruined by this blogger making the error of believing that Eastern Türkiye was, actually, Western Türkiye. Eyvah!
But then, dear blog fiends, there are also those days where pretty much everything comes together. Like this one. for instance.
Or, indeed, this one.
This blogger is usually able to identify whenever he's given a street view of anywhere in, for example, Germany. Particularly if it's the sort of place where someone might find themselves getting taken, roughly, up the back passage.
Here's another example.
'That's piss easy, Roger, me auld fruit. Luxembourg; Andorra; Malta; Liechtenstein and San Marino.' 'Congratulations, Joyce. Your prize will be an all-expenses paid weekend in the Vatican City for not mentioning their own significant lack of girth in this regard.'
And, speaking of the Holy See (where From The North has at least one dear reader if Flag Counter is to be believed), this blogger is often asked by fiends what it is that he most admires about religion. The simple answer to which is 'its caring side.'
And, obviously, its ability to adapt to the changing attitude of the modern world and move with the times. That goes without saying.
Next, Northumberland police have announced a major traffic incident has occurred in Ashington. A truck full of terrapins reportedly overturned on the High Street. One officer described the situation as 'a turtle disaster.' Nah, lissun.
Keith Telly Topping has to confess, dear blog fiends, there are days when he really ♥'s his home city and all of its many and various doings.
Here, for those who've asked, is a visual representation of an average Saturday night at The Stately Telly Topping Manor. Uncannily accurate this blogger would've said. Particularly the phallic fondling of the candlestick.
The nominations for the latest From The North Headlines Of The Month award are in and are as follows: Of course, we simply couldn't have a Headline Of The Month noiminees list without a contribution from some foolish fool at the Metro (so, not a real newspaper) advising their dear readers readers to, if you will, run for the hills. Oi, get yer hair cut, hippies.
The Metro (so, not a real newspaper then) actually manages two nominations this very month with this beauty also highly fancied in the runners and riders. 'You can't park there, pal.'
Next, to Devon Live for a much-overdue update on the long-awaiting Billy Connolly/Rod Hull rematch.
The Daily Lies are also, of course, regular attendees on these very pages. Usually, with abject, risible bollocks such as this nonsense.
The Crediton Courier, meanwhile, are making their From The North debut this month with another one from the 'yeah, that's a little bit too much information, thanks' column.
A column which has also been well occupied, of late, by Glasgow Live.
Additionally, we have the latest piece of laughable haughty tripe from the Daily Torygraph, proving that they really have got their finger firmly on the pulse what it is that makes Great Britain tick on a daily basis. So for Sophia Money-Coutts's benefit - and that of any other 'confused' Torygraph staffer, editor, owner or reader, for that matter - the answer is very simple. If you're rich then you are a twat and you need punched. Really hard. But if, on the other hand, you're 'posh', then you're a twat and an arsehole and you really need punched. Even harder. Hope this helps. Better start working out which one of the two options you are, Sophia, m'love. This blogger thinks he'd sooner be a twat, personally.
Another Torygraph pillock, one Michael Deacon (no, me neither), seemingly believes that people taking a packed lunch into work is both 'pathetic' and a sign of societal collapse. He also thinks that said packed lunch include sprouts. So, 'twat' or 'arsehole' in Michael's particular case, dear blog fiends? Actually, this blogger is going to go out on a total limb, here and suggest a potential third category for Mickey D, 'cult'. I think that's how it's spelled, anyway.
Here's one from the files, now, which simply never gets old.
Which had the added bonus of also making the hallowed pages of the Daily Scum Mail to boot. And, in even greater detail.
Which brings us to a new, semi-regular, From The North feature; Keith Telly Topping Advises Dear Lady Blog Fiends On How To Treat Their Men (For Fun And Profit).
Followed by this week's example of another good old From The North standby, 'When Hippies Sneer' (very popular at the Gruniad Morning Star, that one).
This story was reported, we must presume, by Dear Liza?
This blogger has actually been prescribed Metformin for his condition, Jasper. But, yes, the point is well taken.
Next, From The North's correspondence of the week.
Next, the astounding revelation of just what, exactly, this week's Stately Telly Topping reading matter has been - apart from David Brunt's seminal The Doctor Who Production Diaries, Volume 2: The Troughton Years (Telos Publishing, 2026), obviously. Part the first. Key advice, if it doesn't say 'avoid tripping up on the stairs in the first place' on page one and then the rest of the book is blank then you simply must buy this as a Christmas present. For someone you don't like.
