What in actual the blithering fek, yer actual Keith Telly Topping? Is it time for a brand spanking all-new From The North bloggerisationism update already? In that case, we had better Flange the Glonthometer, hoist Percival the Stately Telly Topping Manor petard, hit That There Blog Signal right good, hard and proper in the Jacob's Cream Crackers till bit blares and let us, as it were, get this dollop of rancid faeces out on the Boulevard swift-promptly. If not sooner. Capiche?
Starting off with this ...
Welcome, all and sundry (and anyone else reading this), to the latest From The North update. The following was, of course, previously announced on the last From The North blog update (and, indeed, the blog update before that also). And now, it's being repeated again, here, because this remains Keith Telly Topping's blog and he can repeat whatever the flamin' Hell he likes if he wishes to. Nevertheless, 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 (as well you know) is now supremely available for pre-order from the world's greatest publisher, Telos. Here, to be precise. As the blurb notes: 'From The Ghoul to Gothic - seventy two British "mystery and suspense" films [plus two French, three Italian and one Spanish making seventy eight films covered 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 for the first time until he was well into his twenties and a couple that he only caught up with in the last decade], taking a wry and often irreverent look [it alleges 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 [several of which, frankly, gave this blogger The Horn when he saw them and marvelled at their sheer pure-total excellence], 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.' The full cover, if you happen to be wondering, looks just exactly like this.
If you haven't already been kind enough to do so then this blogger implores you - with deep and lasting humility which borders on begging, frankly - to please consider buying one, several or lots of this volume. 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 via, cough, Amazon, here. Though both this blogger and his publisher would, obviously, prefer it if you ordered any copies you wish to own direct from the publisher's website, here. Mainly because unlike Amazon they do, actually pay their taxes (also, small additional point: because this blogger makes a tiny bit more in royalties from direct sales rather than through a third party vendor). Anyway thank you, sincerely, for allowing Keith Telly Topping into your Interwebs (and, indeed, your wallets).
A further reminder (cunningly disguised as crass self-promotion): 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 October, 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. Also published by the tremendous and ground-breaking Telos Publishing and 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 are, collectively, the greatest blog fiends that ever there was and, this blogger, humbly, thank you all for allowing him into your Interwebs (and, indeed, your wallets).
As the previous Stately Telly Topping Manor project sails nearer towards its long-awaited and much anticipated 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 it is delivered 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 through the entire manuscript accompanied by a magnifying glass and a fine-tooth-comb, twice, in search of 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. The process - still ongoing at the time of writing - is just starting to become a a bit of a chore as it always does towards the end of a project that's taken up roughly the last six months of this blogger's life, but the end is now very much in sight.
Plus, at least the final page of the tome has already been prepared well in advance.
So, with that matter well in hand, Miss Broadchest, kindly take a memo ...
One of the most disturbing things imaginable, dear blog fiends, is when a horror film features a disturbingly jolly soundtrack. Take the opening to Maurice Jarre's acclaimed Les Yeux Sans Visage score, for instance. That's just wrong on so many levels.
People often ask this blogger (and, by 'often' this blogger means 'occasionally ... well, once or twice in the last decade, at least') 'so, Keith Telly Topping', they ask. 'What is an average Saturday night at The Stately Telly Topping Manor actually like, all joking aside?' A valid question, dear blog fiends. One deserving a valid answer. So, this blogger will, ahem, give you one.
Meanwhile, one outstanding matter remains from the last bloggerisationism update relating to the map illustrating the best-selling groups or artists emerging from every English county. Every English county, that is, bar one seemingly. Did anyone else notice (as this blogger initially didn't) the lack of any representation for poor, maligned and ignored Rutland?
What a rank fiasco. Well, that simply will not do. It's like Rutlemania never happened (possibly because of the trousers).
Asked for a reaction to this shocking oversight happenstance, Mssrs Nasty, McQuickly and Wom were as one in their oneness.
Anyone who has been within a thousand miles of Facebook during the last couple of weeks will have spotted a new and faintly disturbing trend in the often Asperger's-like Facebook tradition of 'let's make a list of some stuff, that'll be good for a laugh.' Usually, this blogger avoids those sorts of malarkey like a painfully sore and swollen pimple on the pile-ringed anus of humanity. However, on this particular occasion, the Pick the Nine Albums that Made You website has proved to be quite addictive, even to this blogger. It should, of course, be pointed out straight away that they're LPs not 'albums'; only Hippies, Sods and Americans call them that. You'd better start working out which of the trio you are, My9 Albums. This blogger thinks he'd sooner be a Sod, personally. Anyway, after a couple of days of harrumphing 'there's no way I'm going to be doing one of those', this blogger then only went and actually did one of those. You knew that was going to happen, right? The idea, apparently, is you pick the nine records which, between the ages of you getting into music in the first place and roughly around twenty or so, allegedly 'made' you. So, Keith Telly Topping bleeding well complied, didn't he? Listed here in order of release not, necessarily, the order that Keith Telly Topping his very self went to the shop and bought them (although, it's close) are they as follows.
Then, because he was feeling guilty about a couple of records that, if you will, Loom Large In His Legend which he'd been forced to exclude from the first list (because there could be only nine), he did a Second Division as well - in this case, very definitely in the order he bought them. And, yes, your astonished eyes are not deceiving you in this particular case - the first Beatles, Kinks and Who records this blogger purchased were, indeed, all compilations. And you know, dear blog fiends? This blogger thoroughly stands by all of these.
There won't be a Third Division, even if this blogger does somewhat regret a paucity of Tamla-Motown representation, the absence of the debuts by Dexy's Midnight Runners, Madness and The Specials and no Rolling Stones either. Although, the latter would have been another compilation, admittedly. However, there is one record which didn't appear on the database that the My 9 Albums people seem to have been using which should've and would've walked on to either one or the other of these lists due to how much it still means to Keith Telly Topping to this very day. This one. For reasons explained, here.
Apparently, the same process works for films too. Who knew?
Incidentally, From The North is proud to announce a new semi-regular feature, 'Stoopid Things That Are Really Stoopid As Stoopid Can Possibly Be' (Part 916): The Decision to split The Godfather Part II across two discs on The Godfather Collection DVD box-set is not stoopid or anything even remotely like it. Someone deciding that the two discs should be entitled The Godfather Part II (Part 1) and The Godfather Part II (Part 2), however, very much is stoopid as stoopid can be. Definitively.
Speaking of That There Facebook and all of those who sail in her, Keith Telly Topping's own Facebook fiends have already been alerted to the following but for anyone else who may be interested, a small and sad personal update. An extremely rude individual who, seemingly, was so concerned to vent his spleen concerning this blogger's lack of photo editing skills that he felt it necessary to berate Keith Telly Topping on it, publicly and vocally, on and on and on when no one else seemed particularly bothered about such abject trivia, is no longer active in Keith Telly Topping's sight. He was - how shall this blogger put this? - 'directed towards the exit and encouraged to go through it.' This blogger joined Facebook (several times - long story, previously told) to chat with fiends and fiends of fiends and those with like-minded interests. He did not join it, however, to receive daily doses of GBH on the earhole concerning his many and vast perceived failings in the eyes of some no doubt perfect specimen of human magnificence. He can get that at home for free.
As a general rule of thumb this blogger tends not to accept Facebook fiend requests unless it comes from an actual fiend, someone this blogger knows either personally or by reputation, a member of this blogger's family or - and this is how this particular chancer snuck his way into this blogger's Fortress of Solitude - a 'fiend of a fiend' type-individual. As it happens, this person was a 'mutual' of two of those on this blogger's fiends list (two good fiends, at that). Upon arrival, he said nothing for a few days and then spent several posts across a couple of different threads making a series of increasingly narky passive-aggressive comments about issues which, frankly, had naff all to do with him. The modern age, dear blog fiend, where people simply can't resist sticking their nose where it neither belongs nor is, particularly, wanted. So, anyway, whilst there are many, many, many things wrong with Facebook - too numerous to list, if we're being honest - at least they do provide a necessary and much needed 'block' facility. So that, one does not have to talk to someone if they are being a bit of a dick. Appreciate that, at your leisure, dear blog fiends.
Mind you, it's always worth remembering that on a previous occasion when this blogger used his Facebook 'block' facility after an overdose of unwanted 'blah' was coming in his general direction without him asking for it (just at a time when he was, coincidentally, making a concerted effort to thin down his somewhat overgrown Facebook fiends list), this blogger ended up acquiring his very own Interweb stalker. A persistent one who kept up such, depressingly juvenile, malarkey for the best part of seven years. So, if this latest clown decides he doesn't like being ignored by someone who does not appreciate him being a thorough pain in the dong, expect further updates in this fashion.
Or, a radical suggestion this blogger is aware, the chap in question could always try, you know, getting out of the house and maybe attending an event such as this over the coming weekend. It's merely an idea, let's just leave it hanging here, like an old discarded sock on a shower rail.
And, now we're done. Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the first.
Yer actual Keith Telly Topping's life in a nutshell, dearest blog fiends.
Things we learned from David Brunt's seminal The Doctor Who Production Diaries, Volume 2: The Troughton Years (Telos Publishing, 2026). Number fifty eight (in an ongoing series). Page 498: Tuesday 14 May 1968, the shocking tale of the occasion that 'Hines fought The Law (and The Law won).' This details the occasion that our beloved Frazer got himself, ahem, 'pinched by The Bobbies' on the Great North Road in Hammersmith for, allegedly, doing fifty in a forty zone. He subsequently found himself up a'fore The Beak (who, if comments reported by the Liverpool Post and republished in the book are anything to go by, appeared to consider himself a bit of a wannabe stand-up comedian). It was, Frazer still maintains to this day, a complete West Ham - a case of him being fitted up like a toff at Tommy Nutter's by a bent traffic rozzer. Nevertheless, he got lumbered with a guilty verdict and was handed down a seven quid fine. What a great pity it was that the Interweb wasn't around in 1968, someone would've had a 'Free The McCrimmon One' petition up on change.org before the case even came to court. We also need to alert Google as, currently, if you type the word 'Frazer Hines' and 'criminal record' into a search engine of your choice you simply get taken to it a You Tube link for 'Who's Dr Who?' - words and music Les Reed and Barry Mason, arranged by Nicky Welsh, produced by Tommy Scott, Major Minor MM579, b/w 'Punch And Judy Man'. It's no wonder a mere but six week later (Monday 24 June, page 524) the poor lad was stricken with a nasty bout of chickenpox in the middle of filming The Mind Robber episode 2 - almost certainly another sinister by-product of a failing and corrupt British legal system. FRAZER IS/WAS INNOCENT, spread the word.
Other current Stately Telly Topping reading matter includes this.
And this.
And this.
Keith Telly Topping's life in a nutshell (slight return).
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the second.
Next, the Stately Telly Topping Manor 'this blogger wants one of those for Christmas' catalogue. Starting, obviously, with this essential little something for the Stately Telly Topping Manor bathroom (ideally, as gift from From The North favourites the Department of Baths).
Although, all things considered, this blogger could be persuaded to settle for an alternative choice.
Meanwhile, let all dear blog fiends say, as one, a large and cheerful 'hello' to the latest addition to the Stately Telly Topping Manor kitchenette.
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the third.
'Who lives in a house like this?' top Merseyside pop mavericks Space once, wisely, asked. Do you want to hazard a guess and tell them, dear blog fiends, or should this blogger do the necessary?
At this point, somewhat inevitably, this blogger gets to brag about his latest daily adventures on Geoguesser - pausing only briefly to report the sad fact that a couple of weeks ago, on a Saturday in early October, this blogger was so busy editing the latest Stately Telly Topping Manor book that, as a consequence, he snapped his at that time unbroken streak of one hundred and nineteen consecutive daily usages. Which was a pisser but, you know, whatchamangunnagdo? Anyway, on 8 October - a mere but five days after that previous minor calamity, this blogger only went and broke his standing Stately Telly Topping Manor record with a career-best score (to date) of twenty three thousand nine hundred and eighty one.
This being due to a series of extraordinarily lucky guesses for locations in Kazakhstan, England, Mexico, Nigeria and South Korea. This, dear blog fiends, is what he did (although, if truth be told, he still isn't entirely sure how he did it).
A few days later he was heading for, potentially, an even better score when, tragically, he got Ghana and Senegal mixed up and blew it, big style, right at the end. Tragedy, as The Bee Gees might have noted. Only, you know, in a considerably more falsetto voice.
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the fourth.
And lo, dear blog fiends, it was written that Our Lord sayeth unto the multitude there assembled 'go ye forth and takest thou the A762 unto your final destination. We apologiseth unto thee for any inconvenience causeth at this time.' Who says Christians can't acknowledge their own failings?
It's certainly a more fitting - if massively less satisfying - response to adversity than the seeming Hindi alternative. Which, this blogger massively prefers, by the way.
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the fifth.
Next, cookery corner. Stick it in a bun with some fried onion, Peter. This blogger notes, disapprovingly, that you've already applied the ketchup (or, is it barbeque sauce? In which case change the 'disapprovingly' to 'approvingly').
Hopefully he also remembers this eminently sagacitous advice.
On a somewhat related theme, this blogger is forced confess that he quite often polishes his own. It's a dirty job, dear blog fiend, but someone has to do it.
The answer to this particular question is, clearly, none of them. It's single-row seating for a kick off and there are spare seats behind. So, in that case, this blogger will be up the back row sitting, very quietly, reading a book or, perhaps, watching the in-flight movie (wearing headphones) and hoping that none of the Meezda Chames Bondts notice him, ask him what he's going on this flight and then, like poor Mister Goldfinger or Jaws, throwing Keith Telly Topping out of the sodding window. Those guys are effing liabilities to be on a flight with, frankly.
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the sixth.
This blogger must confess, he's with Mark on the subject of the following.
Next ... Nice antlers.
Makes you think, dunnit? Part, the seventh.
After which, somewhat inevitably, we arrive at makes you think, dunnit? Part, the eighth.
Moving on, now, swiftly to the regular From The North Headline Of The Month award nominees. Starting with an oldie-but-goldie. And, for the Daily Mirra, this blogger still has several good questions requiring several good answers.
Following that, a resounding chorus of 'yes it probably is but, perhaps we'll never care.'
If The Times Literary Supplement asks you a question, dear blog fiends, it's only polite to answer it. And the answer, in this particular case, is 'Yes it very much is, you get jail for that shit.'
Next up, the Independent, the newspaper for disgraceful Middle Class Hippy Communist scum journalists who can't get a job at the Gruniad Morning Star. And this claim to which many people will probably observe 'usually, you have to pay good money for that sort of thing in Vegas.'
Of course we couldn't, possibly, have a From The North Headline Of The Month award nominations list without a contribution from the Daily Scum Mail that shoehorns royalty into it. Which is, if you will, a hoot. This blogger thought that was going to be the best pun he'd get out of such a story until his fiend, the sickeningly funny Danny, came up with 'Owls clearly don't like weddings. Maybe they don't even like humans pairing up for one purpose: to wit, to woo.' Come on, dear blog fiend, you simply have to stand up and applaud that!
That's nothing ex-Sheriff of Nottingham. One of your predecessors called off Christmas. True story.
Then there's this potential horrorshow (and drag) from across the Mighty Blue Ocean.Where it's shit in more ways than just one.
The story about bizarre celebrity-based graffiti cropping up en masse in a particularly dodgy and poorly lit underpass in West Denton has, frankly, been just about the only story that the Evening Crocodile has been interested in for the last few weeks. Here for example. And here. Sadly, now they have a conclusion and a culprit, presumably that means an end to the matter for readers in the North East. Although, this blogger wouldn't bet on it.
The following revelation both shocked and very much stunned this blogger like he was a member of The Rutles (the best-selling group or artist from Rutland, allegedly). Mainly because Keith Telly Topping didn't even know the late King Harold had even been ill.
The Daily Lies, unhappily, resists the temptation to offer the defence of 'the one that smelt it, dealt it.'
Readers are invited to insert their very own Run For Your Wife joke at this juncture.
The Metro - so, not a real newspaper, then - can always be relied upon to contribute to a From The North Headline Of The Month award nominees list and this month is certainly no exception.
Something of a slow news day at the My London website, was it? In case you're wondering and can't be bothered to read the damn thing (and, honestly, who can blame you), Assistant Editor Neil Shaw spends roughly one thousand words - presumably getting paid for each one - telling readers what a mere but four words ('you don't have any') would've done just as clearly.
This blogger isn't sure exactly which aspect of this story is saddest (in every single sense of the word). It could be the fact that some woman on a holiday in Greece whinged about not being served 'English food' and only getting chips once in a week and 'no hot bacon or sausage.' It certainly could be that. Or, it could be the fact that the Daily Mirra felt this abject nonsense constituted 'news'. Or, it could be the fact that a 'Consumer Rights Champions' felt it necessary to explain 'is it reasonable to claim for a lack of "English food" on a continental holiday? Probably not.' But, ultimately, it's the fact that TUI, instead of telling this ludicrous disgrace of an individual to, next time, book a week in Blackpool which might be more to her palate, instead, actually paid her some money back (a hundred knicker at that). The world is, officially, broken dear blog fiends. We might as well collectively die as a race.
And, speaking of sausage, is that a chorizo in your pocket, mate, or are you just pleased to see me? No, it's a packet of Richmond's pork bangers, so off to Tyburn with ya.
A story, next, with as disappointing a climax as the actual subject of the story, seemingly, did. Trees died to bring readers in Henley-on-Thames this information dear blog reader.
'You can't park there, sweetheart.'
'Ooo, you don't wanna be doin' that, me auld china, you might hurt yourself.'
If you ever wondered what happened to Lucifer Morningstar after he was expelled from Heaven in Isaiah 14, now we have an answer. He ended up speeding in Cumbria. For, after all, we were not told by Max Romeo and the Upsetters 'Lucifer, son of de morning, ah'm gonna send you back to Eart'? This blogger believes we were.
It would seem, therefore, that the M6 really is the road to Hell.
According to the weathermen, snow is on the way, coming to Britain this winter. Lots of it, apparently. However, according to the Northern Scot some appears to have already arrived. Up this bloke's hooter. Lots of it.
But the clear and obvious winner of the award this month goes to the Independent, the newspaper for disgraceful Middle Class Hippy Communist scum journalists who can't get a job at the Gruniad Morning Star. Who have gifted us with the annual (or, should that be anal) 'more than 100 Freedom of Information requests were submitted to nationwide hospital trusts, seeking data regarding "rectal foreign bodies" in A&E and urgent care departments since 2022.' Which, apparently, included (and the list is by no means exhaustive) 'TV remotes, vapes, beer and shampoo bottles, a door handle, a toothbrush, Lego®™ bricks wrapped in balloons, a coat hanger, a phone (presumably, not a landline), a Nerf bullet, a boiled egg, a Coke can, a potato, a deodorant bottle, a toilet brush handle, cucumbers, courgettes, grapes, an apple, children’s toys, a cocktail stirrer, a bank card, metal screws, tweezers, razor blades (ouch!), a knitting needle (double ouch!), knives (ouchy ouch ouch ouch!), paper clips, a screwdriver, a snow globe, a branch, a (hopefully unlit) candle, a Kinder egg, a parsnip and a wallpaper scraper', all extracted from the arseholes of people who, one presumes, 'slipped and fell on it.' This, dear blog fiends, is public service journalism at its finest. 'Of the one hundred and six hospital trusts who received the Freedom of Information request, only eleven responded with an itemised list. Some did not provide a list as they did not hold the information, while others cited the cost involved in collating a list as an exemption.' And some told the nosy fekkers to take their Freedom of Information request and stick it up near the Lego®™. Chris Nordstrom, a consultant at Northwick Park Hospital, told the paper: 'Thankfully, incidents of this kind are relatively uncommon but, when they do occur, our priority is to provide safe, compassionate and non-judgmental care [this blogge'rs italics]' presumably adding under his breath, 'however difficult that may be.'
And that very bombshell (or, if you prefer, bumshell) concludes the latest From The North blog update.
From The North will, of course, somewhat return dear blog fiends. Probably once this blogger has his latest manuscript completed and safely delivered to his publisher and he has a bit of spare time on his hands (or, at least, a bit more than he has at this present moment). Until such times as that occurs, this blogger urges you all to maintain a dignified patience and, basically, stay strong.
And finally ...
