In Seattle, a 65-year-old is conducting an experiment into whether we can live only on light and air; because we're plants, right? Spoiler: we can't. Actually, she might die. Voyeurism to the extreme?

I think we all need to see something a bit more upbeat after that. How about a mash-up of TV themes and intros?

Or maybe you'd just like to see something which is guaranteed to calm you down? (After watching that video, you may automatically have been mentally transported back to last week's episode of Game of Thrones and felt upset...)

Labels: comedy, time wasting, TV

Funny, isn't it, how the last post I published on here happened to be about Star Trek: The Next Generation, and half a year later I get this urge to post about that show again. Why? Just my latest obsession. Q, of course. I believe I mentioned him last time. I finished ST: TNG last week and I found the ending to be a good wrap-up (at least it got a proper ending, as opposed to so many US shows). What I found the most surprising about the whole series was that the writing was very good throughout, and the series improved a lot once the second series was under way and the characters had been established. Imagine if it hadn't been in first-run syndication; the network would probably have cancelled the series halfway through the first series.

The show was made even better by the inclusion of Q, though.

I enjoy the notion of John de Lancie doing what he can with the material given to him by the writers (without feeling the wrath of the censors/producers), and 3-4 days into production being told by the producers that they would like to have him back later in the series. Q appeared in no fewer than eight ST: TNG episodes, then moved on to both ST: Deep Space Nine and ST: Voyager, plus the ST: Borg "game". Good going by someone who was only ever supposed to appear in one episode. Remind me* to cast John de Lancie in my next stage production (if he's not too busy being a Brony on a sail boat somewhere).

Slightly misleading photo no. 1

The problem with getting so obsessed with a series which ended almost 20 years ago, is that my enthusiastic tweets are met with exactly no responses from fans (they've kind of been there, done that a while ago), and if I look for articles, most of them are from the mid-90s at the latest. However, the cast have been popping up at conventions for a few decades now and there are plenty of videos from Q&A sessions etc. Phew! I was getting a bit disorientated by reading articles in the .txt format posted on alt.scifi.q forums and Compuserve and AOL and whatnot. At one point I actually had to look up and check the date. It was still Stardate -310355.02.

And then there's the fan fiction... I sincerely hope no actors or writers EVER read ANY fan fiction. It'll screw up their minds, easily. But for a show in the Star Trek universe you basically have to go the route of fanfic if you want to read the real stories. The producers frequently put their collective foot down, but the writers and certainly the cast managed to wrangle their own sub-text into the scenes and dialogues. And then the fanfic writers saw, took and ran away with it, to do with it as they (and we) pleased. I didn't exactly need to read fanfic to discover the HoYay between Picard and Q, and I was very happy to hear both actors and at least one writer were totally on board with that. Not entirely sure they would have appreciated the two fanfic novels His Beloved Pet and Love Reign Over Me, but I spent a whole day reading those two. Minding One's P's and Q's is also a very interesting interpretation of the interactions in that vast universe (actually the whole Genders OnLine site has fascinating and though-provoking papers).

Slightly misleading photo no. 2

I was kind of thinking "imagine if the series had been produced only ten years later; we would have seen The Puppy Episode in Ellen and had the world of television changed for the better overnight (give or take a decade or so...)", but considering the Star Trek series following The Next Generation (perhaps with the exception of Enterprise), it wouldn't have made the slightest difference. Oh well, thankfully there are actors daring to do something about it (notice how they often have theatre backgrounds? Hmm...)

*) I don't really need reminding.

Labels: john de lancie, star trek, TV

I have been completely hooked on space and sci-fi lately. It began with XCOM: Enemy Unknown, and then I finally returned to Star Trek: The Next Generation a couple of weeks ago. XCOM is brilliant. Played the original and first sequel a lot about a decade ago (and intermittently ever since), and I really like the new version. I decided to name all of my soldiers after musicians and actors I quite like, and my crack team of all colonels have done very well indeed. I must admit it came as a shock to me that Andy Bell (of Erasure) would turn out to be the biggest bad-ass in the squad, followed by his band mate Vince Clarke as the toughest Heavy out there.

It took me seven months to watch through the first series of ST:TNG, but so far only two weeks for series two, and I started series three earlier today. I also watched all four ST:TNG-era films across two nights (tip: don't watch Star Trek: Nemesis before you've actually watched the whole series; you'll thank me--or maybe that is just the way to watch the whole thing. Start with the first series, then the four films, then go back to series 2-7). Anyway, Q FTW! I'm also of the opinion that Brent Spiner should appear in everything on telly. He was excellent in Warehouse 13.

Oh, actually, that reminds me; this probably started a bit earlier. After all, I watched series 4.5 of Eureka, two series of Warehouse 13, then the fourth series of Fringe, before going back to ST:TNG. I have been sci-fi'd for about two months now. I'm also looking forward to the rest of the "new" Star Trek shows, starting with DS9. I just have to watch the whole of Stargate SG-1, Stargate: Atlantis, Stargate Universe, Battlestar Galactica.

I've been missing out on a lot of sci-fi stuff, can you tell? I blame not having all the right TV channels.

And then, while watching all this and beamed down photos from the Curiosity Rover, I find myself thinking this enormous universe we're part of is absolutely mind-blowing. It's ridiculous that some people think we're alone out here, but we will probably not find any real proof within my lifetime, which is annoying, to say the least.

So I guess I'll just keep dreaming, together with Cpt. Picard, Maj. Carter, Cmdr Shepard, Adm. Adama and the rest.

Labels: erasure, science, star trek, TV

Was watching The Voice yesterday, and the judges/mentors seemed a bit taken aback at some of the artists they turned around to see. On a couple of occasions it looked as if Sir Tom was thinking 'what have I let myself in for?', only in Welsh, of course. The programme itself was almost disappointingly little like a freak show. May have to watch it next week as well.

I finally got my iPhone 4S this week (despite it being delivered by Yodel, previously known as HDNL), and then handed over my old iPhone 3G to my flatmate, who seemed reasonably pleased by the whole thing. We've been Drawing Something ever since. I just hope they won't be acquired by Zynga, for the purely selfish reason that I am boycotting them. Still, the level of addictiveness Draw Something brings, I might as well start boycotting OMGPOP as well. Anyway, the phone itself is oh, so much quicker than the 3G one, so I'm really enjoying it. Also: Siri! I know most others have forgotten about Siri by now, but I think it's still pretty nifty. I did laugh out loud when I told him to remind me to go to bed at midnight. A slightly sarcastic "OK..." was his reply.

Looking forward to Titanic tonight. Apparently the biggest UK production ever, costing £3m per episode (three times as much as Downton Abbey). I was also very happy to welcome back Scott and Bailey a couple of weeks ago, and this week sees the return of Twenty Twelve (both of which feature the excellent Amelia Bullmore). All in all TV is very good at the moment. Well, the few programmes I watch, anyway. I'm currently rewatching The West Wing, after all...

Labels: TV

I bet my five votes made the difference in tonight's Let's Dance for Sport Relief.


By the way, what exactly is the difference between Comic Relief and Sport Relief? Seems they're just about the same thing; comedians doing most of the work every year, even the sporty bits. The only difference I can see is that Sport Relief is a little bit more boring on the big night. But they both have JLS. Everything has JLS these days. It almost makes me miss McFly.

Labels: TV

This is just not good enough. The infrequent updates to this blog since I joined Facebook and later Twitter is ridiculous. My apologies.

Since last we've moved house, to lovely Ealing from dreadful Stratford (well, it was quickly turning into a hell-hole). I spent all of my savings on the move, and am now spending my time whining about the lack of money. And the cold. Because, friends, I have turned into a Brit. Well, almost. Also, this house is bloody cold all year round. Brilliant if it's scorching outside, but whenever does that actually happen in good ol' Blighty? Well, just about once or twice a year. (I haven't heard of rhetorical questions.)

My job seems insecure; they keep moving people around, others quit and I'm left in the dark as per usual. This started happening just about two seconds after we signed the contract for this place, of course. Fuck you. Anyway, I'm pretending nothing is going on. Alcohol helps. Also, lashes of good telly. We've kept ourselves busy lately (re)watching Fringe, Hornblower, then Sharpe, and next up is a disturbing combination of Eureka, Upstairs, Downstairs (good luck with that before this autumn's revisit to 165 Eaton Place, 35 years after the last series was produced), Dexter and Lie to Me. We'll just have to see.

I think I may have been to the theatre once this year...only I cannot for the life of me remember what that could have been. Maybe it was just a dream.

My plan for tomorrow is to win the top prize in the EuroMillions. Don't know how else I'm going to get any funds.

However, this is merely a bleak, selfish view on things and my life is much better than most others', it's just very annoying that Life is so attached to Money. The Bastard Twins.

In other news, I have been enjoying a lot of brilliant telly and gaming lately, and more is yet to come! Of course Downton Abbey is an important feature on Sundays in this household, although it is being taped for the simple reason that it's on ITV (read: ad breaks) whereas the excellent Single Father (read: David Tennant) is on the Beeb (read: no ad breaks) at the same time. Thank Bob we don't we don't have Sky (can't afford a satellite dish AS WELL), because then we'd have to have a second DVD recorder to tape Thorne on Sky1. Not that it had great reviews, but I quite like David Morrissey. Speaking of which, my old DVD recorder is on the blink (in a "Panasonic-on-the-blink" kind of way, which means it gives out weird error messages now and then but works as it should...most of the time. Sony FTW!), so I have got hold of a few blank DVDs to save the contents of the hard drive. OK, so I got 300. I am very impressed with Total Blank Media; they shipped my DVDs nine minutes after my order was accepted! The most important bit was that they carry Taiyo Yuden DVDs, of course. And yes, I did the "smell test" once I got the discs. Mmmm.

What was I saying? Oh, something about telly shows. Hmm... Right. We're watching 71 Degrees North (a title which should be familiar to Norwegians out there), mostly in order to have a laugh at what we deem to be whiny British celebs trying to survive in minus 40 degrees. HA HA HAAAH! Then again, I've never camped outside in anything below zero (centigrades) myself. #NorwegianGirlGuideFAIL

Well, at least I've managed to pay the gas bill.

You can still cry at my tweets and my new gaming blog (well, it's my main interest, anyway; may as well cave in).

Labels: david tennant, gaming, Norway, personal, TV

Dear Steven Moffat,

You wasted my childhood with Press Gang, my teens with Chalk, my twenties with Coupling and now my thirties with Doctor Who, apparently. Will you ever stop making such bloody brilliant stories?

As a fervent believer in everything Tenth Doctor-y (some relation to "Allons-y"), I wasn't even going to watch the fifth series which started yesterday. Matt Smith hadn't exactly made the best first, second or third impression on me. But then Twitter went completely mad for the new episode and the curiosity in me won. The iPlayer had to be loaded, first on the Wii (after a brief stint of Super Mario Kart'ing) and then the remainder on the PS3 (because the fucked-up neighbour started one of his all-night parties again). And I was, literally, at the edge of my seat already after ten minutes. Four minutes in and I had a proper laugh! The heresy!

So, prompted by this very vivid and entertaining dream I had last night where I went to a school reunion and only recognised about half of the people there; the other half slowly morphed into various actors or characters, such as Rik Mayall (having an argument with my dad and trying to seduce me at the same time), James Earl Jones (doing a bit of gardening), someone called Nis Kemp (he had been a Dutch exchange student in our class) and at least five of the previous Doctors (including David Tennant, although he was already there as a guest of mine, going on and on and on about how dry the chicken was--in his defence he had just flown in from Scotland entirely on his own (I believe he actually flew, and not in a plane, either); I decided to do a little bit of soul-searching and Doctor Who-analysing.

I am going to be totally honest here, and say that prior to Doctor Who, Russell T. Davies only meant Queer as Folk to me (and, thus, the person who taught me what "rimming" was; I sort of wish I didn't know), so I wasn't overly enthusiastic when I heard he was writing the reborn Doctor Who. This is also the reason why I never watched Torchwood, advertised as the more adult-oriented, semi-raunchy version of Doctor Who, until the five-parter last year, "Children of Earth". Chris Eccleston was basically a guy I had liked in Our Friends in the North and that episode of the brilliant Cracker where I was also introduced to Robert Carlyle. Billie Piper was just someone who'd made a couple of hits back in the late nineties. Doctor Who itself had been a children's programme institution for forty years. I wasn't exactly sold on the idea. To top it off, Radio Times were featuring the show way too often, so I was satiated even before I had seen a single episode.

When David Tennant took over as the Doctor, I referred to him as "that creepy guy from Secret Smile". I had missed Blackpool. I still wasn't interested. Then Catherine Tate, hot shot of the year, was going to feature in the Christmas special. I thought I'd have a look. It was alright, but I must have drifted off halfway through, as when I rewatched it recently, I couldn't even remember the second half of the episode. I started watching the series properly by series four, when they reintroduced Donna Noble. And I was captivated. I was particularly in love with the episodes "Silence in the Library"/"Forest of the Dead". I then watched the specials of 2009. The last episode was so heartbreaking and I didn't even know who half of those people were! Thanks to BBC3, I quickly knew. I watched the repeats starting with season two. I loved "The Girl in the Fireplace", "Gridlock", "Human Nature"/"The Family of Blood" and "Blink".

Incidentally, most of my favourite episodes were penned by a...Steven Moffat.

Now, let's face it: The Ninth Doctor (Chris Eccleston) was the abrasive rocker Doctor. The Tenth Doctor (David Tennant) was the soul-searching, pained, heart-broken action man Doctor. The Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith)? Looks to go back to the roots. He's the absent-minded, curious, eccentric Doctor. I do believe Monsieur Moffat has found his way back to the essence of the original idea.

Oh, and the new TARDIS? Bloody love it! I only wish I was ten again, growing up with THAT playground to gawk and drool at every Saturday tea-time.

David Tennant will still be "my" Doctor, though. As an incurable romantic I love/loathe the whole Rose/Doctor story, even with its horrible Norwegian breaking up the mood for me. Twice. ("Dårlig Ulv Stranden"? REALLY?)

Labels: david tennant, TV

It has dawned on me that I may as well realise that my "Doctor Who" fascination wasn't really just a fascination with the Doctor as such, but more of a David Tennant thing. Which, of course, is slightly annoying in the sense that he will never "just" be a terrific actor from now on (because I've liked him as an actor since I first noticed him in Secret Smile back in 2005), but "someone a bit more special", even though this obsession will pass in a few months' time (or sooner, depending on how intense the obsession is.)

Then again, my complete inability to throw away stuff has served me well, in that I yesterday found no less than 46 Doctor Who-related RadioTimes in my "collection", including six Doctor Who audiobooks, and today I've found tonnes of old radio shows featuring David Tennant. The trouble is I think he is really funny (and three shows with Catherine Tate filling in for Jonathan Ross may actually kill me, as they're bloody funny and all--I'm actually crying while listening to them), so this may take some time. Then again, last year's two obsessions (Chris Barrie and Reece Shearsmith, respectively) have passed quite smoothly, as well as 2008's big Greg Proops thing (although they'll still have a special place in my heart and may have guest appearances now and then.)

Oh, anyway. Today's big topic has been the budget, and I'm all out of funny comments already. Mainly because it's a bit shit.

Also, I've tried my hand at writing stuff today. Not for the first time, mind. One of these days I'm sure HarperCollins will be knocking on my door. Not that I'll hear them, as I'm sure my neighbour will drown out all sounds with his stereo, as per usual, the little runt.

Labels: chris barrie, david tennant, greg proops, personal, reece shearsmith, TV, writing

Just a quick post to say I loved Nation at the National Theatre yesterday. If you have some kind of imagination, you should go see it (and you may get some very cheap tickets; ours were five pounds a piece). It is based on a novel by Terry Pratchett, which is a good start in itself. It was funny, dramatic and a bit sad.

We also had a nice meal at Pizza Express before the show (yeah, I know, but we're not exactly rich); we've been there before and the food is nice, but the restaurant itself is very noisy. Still, with a 2-for-1 voucher (I do feel a bit cheap now) it was definitely worth it.

Watching Animal 24/7 and feeling very aggressive towards people (and I use the term loosely) who mistreat animals. I think I'll need to watch a few more episode of classic Doctor Who soon (courtesy of SeeSaw) to get back to my normal self. Have actually watched a lot of Doctor Who lately; mostly the David Tennant episodes, but also some of the older ones. The eps over Christmas were devastating, even for someone who's only seen one whole series previously. I don't envy Matt Smith when he takes over as the eleventh Doctor (or is it, in fact, the 17th Doctor?) over Easter.

Labels: theatre, TV

Yep, I should probably 'kiddieproof' this blog, but I'm rebelling against those US-enforced parental lock thingies. Anarchy in your face!

Quick update on the dream front: The other night I dreamt that Jared Padalecki and Chad Michael Murray had joined forces and were fighting electricity for the benefit of humankind. Please bear in mind I don't watch Supernatural or One Tree Hill and actually had to look up their names to figure out who they were; I guess the power of the TV trail is tremendous!

The following night I dreamt about a new, revolutionary product called iLean. Probably manufactured by Apple. It was a gizmo you wore and which would beam info to the headquarters of iLean (again, presumably to the Apple HQ) every time you leaned on something or someone. You could actually earn up to £7,500 a year on this thing. I woke up feeling rather angry my new-found extra source of income turned out to be imaginary.

In between these dreams we went to the embassy in order to vote in the general election, which takes place in September back in Norway. I tried out a new party this time. Well, a new one for me, but as far as I know, the oldest one in the kingdom. I am worried about the right-wing parties, though, which seem to be getting a stronger grip on the population. There's a lot of hatred there. It's scary to see how they condemn right-wing election results in Austria and Denmark when the exact same thing is happening in their own country.

After having voted we went down to Canary Wharf to take in the view, eat at Jamie Oliver's brand new restaurant and then pay Waitrose a visit. We got home very happy and with lots of chocolate. I then realised I had managed to be in the sun long enough to sport a permanent clown mouth (well, hopefully it'll disappear within a week), and so spent the next two hours on the balcony trying to perfect the silly look by showing only my right profile to the sun. We had fun, anyway, doing our best to remember which British comedy shows we've seen (both before and after we moved here). A rather surprisingly large number of shows, I must say! Anyone remember Chalk? Written by the clever Steven Moffat (Press Gang, Coupling, Jekyll, some Murder Most Horrid and Doctor Who). I watched it because of David Bamber (naturally). He also inadvertently (and not literally) kicked my butt so that I finally noticed (and quickly became a huge fan of) The League of Gentlemen.

Speaking of britcom, I also started watching Peep Show the other day (hence the "cockmunchers" in the title). Fun and embarrassing at the same time. I don't often feel I have to look away because the situation depicted is increasingly excruciating to watch, but with this series it happens frequently. Probably also because it is filmed the way it is, so that it immediately feels more personal. With other shows I can just tell myself 'it isn't happening to me', but these guys are staring right at me, damnit!

Enhance your calm.

Labels: comedy, current affairs, david bamber, dreams, league of gentlemen, personal, TV

Enjoying this series immensely. It's rather mellow, but the characters really draw me in. Yesterday's episode was particularly exciting for a French & Saunders fan, as they were finally enjoying a whole scene together, just the two of them. Also, I have to keep telling myself Dawn French really isn't like Rosie in real life. It just seems so...realistic, somehow. Which I suppose is a compliment to her acting skills. If one is to take my criticisms to heart, of course (certain people shouldn't).

Fave quote from yesterday; between the Vicar (played by Patrick Barlow) and Caroline (one of the posher inhabitants, played by Jennifer Saunders):

- I'm just delivering a leaflet about the recital Veronica is giving next month.
- Oh, Veronica, your singer friend.
- Yes.
- Oh, John will love that, he was very taken with her areolas.
- Really...

Labels: comedy, TV

I've just updated all the links on the right-hand side there. Apparently the BBC are cutting down on their comedy coverage (yes, I don't get it, either), so Wikipedia, here we come!

Anyway, now they should all work. I also added a couple I discovered recently (i.e. within the last year or so). Feel free to sling abuse my way.

Labels: comedy, TV

Another depressing documentary from Louis Theroux tonight; this time about crystal meth abusers. I wonder what on earth makes people think it's cool to take drugs when we've known for decades how they affect you and the people around you (before people start bashing me; I know the people in that documentary had some 'interesting' personal histories which quite probably played a big part in their addiction). Also, after more than a decade of eye-opening documentaries 'on the edge', I think Mr. Theroux should be awarded a KBE for not bitch-slapping any of his interviewees. In fact, he may be on drugs himself. Valium, most probably.

I think tomorrow's Panorama may be interesting, as may Tuesday's documentary about an autistic guy (on BBC3, I believe).

Yesterday we went to see Billy Elliot - the dancers were good, but damn! It lasted too long. I mean, how on earth did they manage to make that rather straightforward and not-very-fleshy story drag out for nearly three hours? Our seats may have had something to do with it, though; we were in the Grand Circle and quite obviously being punished for not buying tickets sooner. We were really cramped. Literally. I have rather long legs, and they were not happy.

Today, having a day off, I started re-watching The League of Gentlemen, this time with the commentary track on (I am sensing a repeat of what I went through with Red Dwarf--which classic comedy-series-missed-by-me-the-first-time-round comes next, I wonder?) I have started fancying myself as a comedy writer. Yes, you may laugh. Actually, please do.

Well, enough of that nonsense; back to The Last Remnant (game) before watching the last bit of Shaun of the Dead (a film I have seen five times...soon).

Labels: comedy, gaming, league of gentlemen, musicals, red dwarf, theatre, TV

Well me, obviously. Apart from the boy part(s).

I had a revelation today, a rather embarrassing, but also relieving one. I figured out why I never saw the funny side of The League of Gentlemen before. Plain easy: I watched the wrong episodes. No wonder I didn't get it; this dark and surreal series should really be watched from the very start (oh, and what a start; the first 20 seconds of the very first episode had me in stitches), simply because there's a thread through the whole thing. Excellent stuff, I think, now that I'm halfway through the second series (and Papa Lazarou, which I used to despise before, has now become my favourite). So please accept my humble apologies, those of you who tried to make me see the light years ago and always wondered why I, of all people, didn't like the show. After all, my sense of humour is perfectly aligned with the League guys'.

Oh, and I cannot get the theme song out of my head.

Anyway; what a difference a day makes--after a whole week of very sporadic pockets of sleep thanks to the bastard next-door, his mum came back yesterday with an immediate quelling of any loud noises, so we could finally sleep the whole night through. I then woke up to find both my missing copies of RadioTimes and The Stage as well as a lovely-looking pay slip in the post (quickly making my credit card company cross because they won't get any more interest out of me for a while). I also had a very entertaining dream which gave me an idea for a book, and since there is at current no noise coming from the neighbouring flat, I will be able to concentrate enough to write for a bit. The only thing left to make this a Perfect Day(TM) is if I were to win the top prize in the Euromillions tonight. But I am probably aiming too high.

Labels: comedy, league of gentlemen, personal, TV

Sorry for not having updated in a very long while. Reason? Lack of sleep (annoying new neighbour with a powerful stereo and ASBO friends, need I say more?), a very long shift at work (two weeks, basically) and the release of The Sims 3.

When I say I worked for two weeks straight, that is actually a lie, since I worked eight days, had one day off and then worked four. Still, very straining when you don't get any sleep at all due to your fucking neighbour. And one third of that day off was spent at the theatre having a bloody headache. Don't know what it is, but somehow I always manage to get a blinding headache while in the theatre, no matter what I do to prevent it. The play was miraculously fun, though. What am I saying? It was La Cage. You may kill me now. I've seen it...umpteen times. I've actually lost count. 17 times as a minimum (including Oslo). Once more and I've definitely seen PQ as many times as Dennis in that musical.

Pathetic.

Anyway, so The Sims 3 was released. It's as annoying as the previous instalments, to be honest. You just cannot put it away, yet it's a complete waste of your life. Love the new integrated neighbourhood, though; huge improvement. Also the fact you, in effect, decide what they do while at work or in school. Wonder how many expansion packs they'll release, seeing as this incorporates so many of the previous packs already?

Today saw the long-awaited release of Red Dwarf: Back to Earth DVD (well, 'long-awaited' if you're very impatient) and I devoured it all from about 10am to 1pm. Gave up on the easter egg and just launched the DVD in VLC instead because it allows you to look through the DVD title by title (something you should already know if you're a slightly neurotic geek like myself). Finally found it. As per usual, a bit of an anti-climax. Still, the DVD was packed like the rest. Of the DVDs, I mean. Ooh, err!

So that got me back in Chris Barrie mode/mood, which was just as well as I've had really boring dreams about Roger Allam for the past two nights (blame seeing him by the stage door last week--I'm such a wanker (not in the literal sense...well, not when it comes to this, at least :p )).

And I did the most typical thing yesterday. Now, if you don't follow me on Twitter (and you should--not that it's interesting, but that's where I post most of my random thoughts these days), you wouldn't know much about my new neighbour. To cut a long and irritating story short, he's a pothead who's prolly just moved out and wants to party all night. Fair enough, apart from the fact sound carries really well in this building. He's kept me awake most nights for a fortnight. Until you've experienced that yourself, you won't know what sleep deprivation does to you--how desperate it makes you. Let's just say I've fantasised about murdering him with my IKEA knives. No, I don't think I'd actually do that, but I wouldn't have ruled me out straight away if he were discovered in a pool of his own blood in the foreseeable future. ANYWAY. He knocked on our door yesterday. Keep in mind I want to kill him, right? He asks me if I have some oil he could borrow. I, for some reason, inquiry as to the nature of this oil--of the olive kind, perhaps? He nods. I go get the rest of my olive oil and hand it to him. WHY do I do this? Because, most probably, in The Sims 3, my character would have the trait 'Good'. And possibly 'Coward'.

That's it for today. Was supposed to be just an apology, but then I got all riled up from having watched 'Supersizers' from the 80s for no particular reason (other than their opulence and close proximity in time to myself) and felt I had to post something a little more fleshy. Apparently.

Fave song in the charts: 'In the Heat of the Night' (Star Pilots). The PSN Store launched their own 'Vidzone' the other day and that brought back memories...isn't Michael Jackson's 'Remember the Time' as well as Annie Lennox's 'Walking on Broken Glass' just effing brilliant? No? Well, what on Io (Red Dwarf and RIMMER (SO wrong if you've watched a lot of Queer as Folk) are back, dammit!) are you visiting this blog for? We clearly have little in common. Sex, perhaps, but nothing else.

Labels: chris barrie, film, gaming, music, musicals, personal, philip quast, red dwarf, roger allam, theatre, TV

Yay, we won. Since I'm technically still a Norwegian citizen, due to silly UK laws, I say "we" when speaking about Norway. Unless it's something negative, when it's "they".

Funny bit: Alexander Rybak claiming he won because 'he had a story to tell'. Erm, no. People liked the catchy song. The lyrics were crap!

Extreme tweeting going on yesterday; everyone who'd been dissing Eurovision all week still sat down to watch AND tweet at the same time. It was massive. I would read about 50 updates, send a tweet, then in the meantime about 50-100 new updates had been posted. Let's just say I didn't have the time to read them all. I barely watched the show, only listened to it! Great fun, though. Not such great fun this morning, when I woke up with a furry tongue and a pounding head, wondering what the hell I'd been drinking the night before and why on Io I thought that was a good idea on a work night.

Anyway, I did go to work and am now planning on how to get to the Seamen's Church later on (stop your sniggering!) in order to celebrate Norway's constitutional day with other Londoners. Hipp, hipp, hurra!

PS! If I haven't already mentioned it, you need to watch The Thick of It. I would especially recommend the specials. Excellent stuff. They're so funny, all of them. Guest Roger Allam is brilliant as leader of the opposition. I must have seen the specials four times, and it still makes me laugh out loud. DS.

Labels: comedy, music, Norway, personal, roger allam, TV

Must be the 15th time or so that I see that show. I need a proper tattoo parlour and a proper account balance so I can get that lovely, little tattoo showing my love for La Cage aux Folles that I've been dreaming of for years. It's massive.

Anyway. Proper review for the May 13 performance. Well, as proper as I can make it.

First things first, I believe Duncan Smith stood in as Tabarro instead of Robert Maskell. Other than that they were all there. Especially the Cagelles, they were very much there. In my opinion they have certainly benefited from the move from the Menier (even though it pains me to admit it, it was actually even better at the Playhouse Theatre, which of course is a good thing, considering the excellent Menier production); they now have more room to play in, and they have grown into the roles to such a degree that they are definitely acting more now (not 'just' dancing--and before anyone hits me over the head; their dancing and acrobatics have always been nothing short of amazing). They've basically become more bitchy, something I find adds to the whole story.

Speaking of dancing, by the way; what on Io happened to Philip Quast since we last saw him? Perhaps the larger stage has done him wonders as well, because I was pleasantly surprised at his moves. Elegant, at times flamboyantly so, I would say. Especially the double back-flip which received a standing ovation. OK, I lie. But I'm certain I'm not dilly-dallying far from the truth if I say I think people would have given him a standing ovation had he done a double back-flip. Followed by a hurried search for a chiropractor in the house. But I digress (should be written on my headstone).

Right, now for the Change of the Decade. Well, the change from Graham Norton and Stephen Pacey to the surprising duo of Roger Allam and Philip Quast, respectively. 'Surprising' mostly from a personal perspective, perhaps, as I never thought I'd be able, nay allowed to see them perform on stage together. After yesterday's performance this will go down as my favourite version of my favourite musical. It couldn't possibly get any better than this, could it? If so, I dare not go see it, as I prefer my heart to be whole and in working order.

Some of us get a little carried away at the theatre, but we're usually calm and collected elsewhere.

This time around the Georges/Albin story seemed more real; I was going to say I believed they were partners, but that would have been a fib (or 'wishful thinking' as some of my slash-loving acquaintances would point out). Of course I didn't. But by Gog, they were so much more compatible than any of the previous pairings I have witnessed.

And here comes the clinch, the whole reason for you to go see the show if you have been the least bit half-on, half-off the fence up till now: They've cast an actor to play Albin. I know how that sounds, but wait for it. You see, the part of Albin is a very emotional one; he's a drama queen, ok, but it's all a façade--he's a vulnerable man who is both overly effeminate and as such should leave no doubt in anyone's mind about his sexuality, and yet so far back into the closet I have a feeling he sometimes has tea with Aslan. All brought on by society, as per usual. (How long have poets, playwrights and even screenwriters been writing about the struggle for freedom from the firm grasp of society? Digression again, sorry.) So the role of Albin cannot--well, shouldn't--be filled by someone who is just one thing, someone who cannot cope with both the out-and-out flamboyancy and the defencelessness which, after all, are two extremes switched between at increasingly fast intervals during the play. I was swept away by Allam's acting and for the first time, in 15 performances, felt that Albin really was Jean-Michel's maman.

(Of course, this means that I am dissing Dennis Storhøi. I may have to lie down and die. At least repent.)

If anyone thinks I'm saying Philip Quast isn't an actor, they should probably read the whole thing again and pay attention this time. I'm probably saying that everyone who's played Albin so far hasn't been an actor, so bring on the insults; I don't care. (I think it's been known for a while that I wasn't a fan Douglas Hodge's interpretation...)

Now then, now then, now then. For the slightly more personal and short review:

It's brilliant! Buy tickets now or lose out on something spectacular! Truly! This cast should be there all through summer (please consider holidays, days off sick etc.--annoying, I know, but it turns out they're actually...shh, don't tell anyone...real people! Who'd've thunk?), until Aug 26, but don't hold me responsible if they're not. Write to your local MP instead. I want you all to be more politically active.

And fabulous hair! PQ no longer looks like my uncle. He now looks like a Clubland version of my uncle. Urgh. Oh yeah, and I caught one of the roses and stole it thought 'finders keepers'. Currently starting to collect dust with all my other theatre memorabilia. I have tickets for two more performances (so far) because I thought 'hey, I think this may be the best version ever and I have a Mastercard!' Hopefully I won't try and beat my ten performances in five months record from Oslo 2004...that'll be a bit expensive (and stalkerish). Not to mention pathetic--I have to keep chanting 'it's just a play, it's just a play'.

Well, I hear there's a Eurovision Song Contest semi final I have to cast my vote in tonight, so got to go!

Labels: dennis storhøi, music, musicals, personal, philip quast, roger allam, theatre, TV

Just finished watching Lost in Austen again; fine series. Had a glass of something I'd like to call "Whispering Orgasm" as it sort of lacked a couple of the ingredients for a Screaming Orgasm (the drink), which made the programme even better. Could also recommend watching Red Dwarf Back to Earth slightly sloshed; you're sure to laugh then, even if you only chuckled the first time around. Or perhaps that's just me.

I'm clearly suffering from a Red Dwarf withdrawal syndrome now, so will shut up and instead go play some game or other. Finished Mass Effect yesterday (I actually sat through the whole list of credits, simply because it happens so infrequently that I finish a game - strangely enough the last two games I finished were made by the same company (BioWare) and made in the same vein as this one. I think I may be a closet sci-fi enthusiast).

By the by...I'm a fervent believer in everything Jean Michel Jarresque, but Blade Runner would not have been the same without the music of Vangelis. Hats off! Please leave your trousers on, though. Urgh.

Labels: comedy, film, gaming, red dwarf, TV

So, just to make a rather boring, 900th post.

Do guys in general want kids/a family, or do they want to stay prepubescent throughout the rest of their lives, if they were to choose? Which, of course, they're not, as women rule the world, but let's pretend for a minute.

The whole "girls grow up so much faster than boys" theory is so annoying. And who's to say we're supposed to be spreading our genes everywhere anyway (apart from nature as a whole)? I'd much rather human beings just died out, really, but then that's just me (it seems--as most people appear to be happy about the way the world is turning out)? Anyhoo, I've been watching way, WAY too much Red Dwarf lately. I was absolutely chuffed "I'm gonna eat you, little fishy" was included (strangely enough, being absolutely obsessed with Rimmer, this quote from The Cat is my favourite, or simply the easiest to remember/sing--also, there's a strange connection with one of my faves from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life: "Ooooh, fishy, fishy, fishy, FISH! / And it went wherever I did go!) Now that I've seen the whole of Back to Earth without ad breaks etc., I am in love with the piece and wish there would be more. Preferably within the next few years or so.

Excuse me while I eat the rest of my Belgian chocolate and pretend I have nowt to do in order to further my career as a writer.

Labels: chris barrie, comedy, personal, red dwarf, time wasting, TV

I am rewatching Blade Runner and comparing with Red Dwarf: Back to Earth. I can't make up my mind whether BTE is a parody of, an homage to or a blatant rip-off of BR.

And then I realise I don't care! Any which way it's well done (especially on their budget) and it doesn't have Harrison Ford in it, which is always a plus in my book. Yes, anything without that guy in it automatically gains half a star in its rating, unless it's Safe, which is just fucking awful no matter what.

Think I need to go to bed, though. Apparently there's a new dawn tomorrow. Who'd've thunk?

PS! Seems today's Massive Speed (which had just about as many 'wow, that's kewl' moments as the other Massive... programmes) could have been the first episode after all, which would explain why I didn't notice it in RadioTimes last week. Duh!

Labels: chris barrie, comedy, film, red dwarf, TV