Soupy Twist

I Dream To Sleep

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 18:39:00 +0000

Do dreams mean anything? I only ask as on Wednesday night I had a dream that I can't even begin to work out. It's not my Jimmy Saville living in the moor next to my house dream, nor is it the Bat Cat dream. It's not even the "I murdered someone years ago, no-one realised, in fact, even I had forgotten about it, until the body turned up in my bedroom" dream.
No, my dream went like this:
I was walking down the high street, on my way to the barbershop.
I popped into the shop next door to it, and behind the counter was magazine genius and former "Whistle Test" presenter Mark Ellen. He offered to cut my hair for free, rather than going to the barbershop, so I let him. When he showed me my image in the mirror, the reflection was of rock icon Ian Gillan. "You've made me look like Ian Gillan" I said. "Yeah, but if you go next door they'll fix it for you. Tell them I did it and they'll sort it for free" said Mr Ellen. We said our goodbyes and I left the shop. Then I woke up.
Any ideas?

Bagpuss gave a big yawn, and settled down to sleep

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 19:03:00 +0000

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=qaW4oVFzRKY&eurl

Here Comes The Future, And You Can't Run From It

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 23:11:00 +0000

"O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is!
O brave new world
That hath such people in't!"

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Martin Luther King Jnr
August 28th 1963

More News Just In...

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 21:50:00 +0000

Well. It's been fun, but tonight on the National Television Awards on ITV1, as we now call it, David Tennant announced that the 4 Specials in 2009 will be his last in the battered Converse Boots and Suit. It was fun though! Cheers Big Fella.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/s4/misc/news/

News Just In...

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 21:03:00 +0000

BBC News are leading their main bulletin tonight with the increase in the Unemployment Figures.

Sky News, however, seem to think that Madonna and Guy Ritchie's divorce is the single most important thing going on today.

Dennis Potter called his cancer "Rupert" after Rupert Murdoch.

Just thought I'd mention these things.

We Are Loonies And We Are Proud

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 21:53:00 +0000

Look. Do yourself a favour. Just buy this DVD, OK?

And Now In Colour

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 00:12:00 +0000

Tim Firth, Tim de Jongh (aka Tim Scott), Michael Rutger (Michael Smith) and William Vandyck.
Oh. Not so catchy.
Back in the 80's and indeed early 90's, BBC Radio 4 produced many a Comedy Sketch Show.

Bodgers Banks and Sparkes, Dial M For Pizza, In One Ear, Live on Arrival, Saturday Night Fry, The Million Pound Radio Show and And Now In Colour.

Bodgers became Absolutely on Channel 4, Saturday Night Fry evolved into A Bit Of Fry and Laurie, Live on Arrival spawned Punt and Dennis. Andy Hamilton and Nick Revell grew out of The Million Pound Radio Show...oh you get the idea, but And Now In Colour remains one of the great missed opportunities in comedy.

Firthie, Tim, Mike and Will -- presented each show as if it was coming from some exterior location (fairground, space shuttle, top of the Post Office Tower and the spectacular French Special...), and spent most of the time squabbling about various recurring issues, notably Firthie's eating habits, Will's militarist upbringing and in particular the North-South divide, which usually became the North-South-Dutch divide as a result of Tim's interjections. Fish and Advocaat. And Mike's obsession with Stephen King. His surname of Rutger was his homage to Rutger Hauer.

It was in many ways a fairly traditional series for the period, with the weekly adventures being little set pieces linked by sketches and songs. I admit to being fairly obsessed with the programme, even wiring up my stereo to my old VCR one Saturday night because my girlfriend and I were going out that night, and I didn't want to miss it. Remember, this was a very long time before "Listen Again" Sky + or the lovely i-Player came into the world.
Unfortunately, this worked very well, which lead to me recording many, many hours of radio. I think my attic is still full of old Danny Baker, Phill Jupitus and Kevin Greening shows from variuos radio stations over the years. But I digress.
And Now In Colour should've been much bigger than it ever was. For a start it was funny, yes some of the sketches didn't work, but for 2 series and 2 Christmas Specials it maintained a hit rate 99% of Radio 4 Comedy these days would kill for. Well, maybe not kill, or am I underestimating the jealous nature of comedians.
A sort of television pilot was made called It's a Mad World World World, but it didn't really work. Possibly as it only had 50% of the ANIC cast, possibly because it had a crap title, probably because it had Alastair McGowan in it, and plans for a series fell by the wayside.
I can't help thinking that in this day and age it would be picked up by BBC 3, allowed to grow and eventually make it onto a 9pm slot on a Friday night on BBC 1.
A whole generation would be quoting lines like "If it's in a basket, it's free" rather than claiming to be "The only gay in the village". Which would be a much better world if you ask me.
Oh, you didn't.

The cast are still out there in various guises.

Tim Firth is an award winning writer of stage and screen, responsible for BBC tv's The Preston Front, the stage play for the musical Our House as well as writing the scripts for Calender Girls and Kinky Boots.

Tim De Jongh has written several books, the sketch series "Dare To Believe" and won a BAFTA for his work on the children's series "Ripley and Scuff".

Michael Rutger has reverted to his real name of Michael Marshall Smith, writes Fantasy Novels, and very good ones at that. And again, award winning. There is a theme emerging here.

William VanDyck writes books for children, presented King Stupid" on Radio 4, and has won many cases in his guise as a barrister.

Thankfully, the good people at BBC 7 repeat the series on a fairly regular basis. And long may they do so.

Spread the word.

Series 4

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 15:00:00 +0000

My pc blew up a fortnight ago. Literally. One minute I was downloading the Collins and Herring podcast, next thing, acrid smell, unusual grinding noise and the whisp of smoke and my connection with the developed world was gone.
Which is my excuse for not having bored you all rigid with my opinion about this series of Doctor Who.

However, gentle reader, thanks to a very reliable courier service and my shiny new laptop, say goodbye to that hollow feeling of Lack of Half Arsed TV Review misery.

I would be lying if I said there wasn't a point near the beginning of the series I was ever so slightly concerned where the show was heading.

Maybe it was me, my high expectations after so many high points, maybe I was all too ready to be disappointed in Catherine Tate, the fear of another Bonnie Langford, I don't know.

What I do know is that on initial viewing I felt a flatness to the series.

But I have to be honest, I have since gone back and started watching them all again and have found them to be fresh and highly enjoyable. For the most part.

First things first. The incidental music was a bit loud in the early episodes. As it was in the 2007 Christmas Special. And some of the very minor supporting actors were a bit rubbish, and some of the scenes featuring them can only be described as hammy and twee. But then again, I'm looking at it from the perspective of a, let's be blunt, middle aged man. And the show is aimed squarely not at me, but is part of BBC Ones's Saturday night Family entertainment package. So has to appeal to a rather broad audience.

So after a bumpy, and slightly noisy start, the series settled down, David Tennant and Catherine Tate formed a great double act. There was a good chemistry there, and it's sad to think that it will never be seen again. Incidentally, there is an episode of Radio 4's Chain Reaction out there with Catherine Tate interviewing David Tennant which is highly entertaining, and quite at odds with much of the comedy on Radio 4 these days, in that it's actually funny. God I miss And Now In Colour. And Bodgers Banks and Sparkes.

Sorry distracted again, I think it's the fact that the Spell Check on Safari seems to think that I want everything in American English.

And can I just say, Bernard Cribbens, how lovely was he? He was just wonderful as Wilf. Like a proper Grandad. Bless him and his wooly hat. Mind you, Donna's mum...what a bitch!

The monsters/aliens were pretty good too. Glad to see the Sontarans and The Ood back. And for once, the Daleks didn't get on my nerves, I suspect this had a lot to do with Julian Bleach's Davros. Dark, brooding, ever so bonkers, a pitch perfect portrayal. Maybe that's the problem with the minor actors. The series was filled with terrific actors. If they'd employed less talented "proper" actors, maybe the hammy ones wouldn't have been so obvious.

Oh, and I didn't think the Adipose were cute. I thought they were shit. And I'm not 100% convinced about the Beetle on Donna's back either. I take it that the props department were watching their Planet of the Spiders DVDs when they made that.

But these are minor quibbles. The Wasp was good. It was nice to see Martha back, and Mickey. Now that's one character who has been allowed to develop nicely. Way back in 2005, in Rose, he was just bobbins. Comedy Crap Boyfriend. I'm hoping there's a place for him in Torchwood now.

But one thing I did enjoy about this series was the fact that so much of it remained under wraps. Looking back, very few spoilers made it out. We had Rose's cameo in the first episode, the "Regeneration" and I watched the climax convinced that James Nesbitt or David Morrissey would be donning the Converse boots before the end of the 13th episode. But Tennant remains. For the time being, anyway. I quite like the idea of David Morrissey though. Maybe later.

Highlight, again, was the Steven Moffat episodes. In fact, the real highlight was the Episode Commentary Podcast with Moffat, Tennant and RTD. If it's not still on i-Tunes, I think you can still get it from the BBC Website, and it'll definitely be on the Boxset. But this series did have a higher percentage of good stories than in previous years. My other favourites included The Fires of Pompeii, the Sontaran double header and for just trying something different, The Unicorn and The Wasp and the slightly creepy Midnight.

So pretty much a big thumbs up of Uma Thurman/Even Cowgirls Get The Blues proportions all round. I may repost all of this in a couple of weeks once I've watched it all again. Re-writing history again as I change my mind. And rediscover favourite bits.

I'm just glad the series has remained so popular. The series climax attracted over 10 million viewers, which made it the most watched programme that week, and just goes to show that even with several hundred different channels out there, there is still an audience for good,high quality family entertainment on a Saturday night. Even if Last Choir Standing might make you think otherwise.

Still, it'll soon be Christmas.

David Tennant, David Morrissey, Cybermen and Victorian funerals. Hurrah!!!!

Time Team

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 07:25:00 +0000

Life, an update

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 18:59:00 +0000

Ahoy hoy.
I'm no good at this blogging thing. I'm easily distracted. Mind you I always have been, in fact some years back, my ability to be distracted hastened the end of a fairly bumpy relationship. Looking back I suppose it wasn't the brightest move on my part to try to phone in to a competition on Kevin Greening's Radio 1 show slap bang in the middle of a blazing row with my then girlfriend, but I did... Mind you, at the time 95% of our time was taken up with fighting, so whenever i phoned it would have been a bad time.
And in truth, I'd probably still do it. Apart from the fact that I'm unlikely to listen to Radio One again in a hurry, and of course Mr Greening has long since ceased from doing phone in competitions. Among other things.
Sorry I digress. See, easily distracted, told you.
Thinking back now, the prize was the complete back catalogue of the Pet Shop Boys on cd. Which at the time I already owned. Twice over. Still, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Although I'm pretty sure that "It Seemed A good Idea At The Time" may become my motto in life.
I went out a couple of weeks ago with some "young people" these dyas they are all into skiffle, hanging round milk bars, listening to the popular beat combos of the day, and we went out for a couple of drinks, and suddenly after a while I found myself thinking, "Hold on, it's daylight again...how did that happen?" Now I'm nearly 40, I work in a popular High Street bank, well, I work in a bank anyway, and my life has calmed down a lot since the 90's. I got home at 5am, and I finally recovered about 10 days later. 10 days. They want to do it again next week. This time dressed as PIRATES!
I can't do it.
There was a time when I could go out till 5, and indeed later, and still make it into work for 9. And there was a time when I would have been happy to go out as a Pirate. But not now. I'm old enough to be their dad. I take 10 days to recover. They want to hit the town, and all I can think about is, "But I'm going to miss Casualty".
So, now, here on this patchy blog, I shall admit it. Say it loud, say it proud...
I am middle aged.
There, I've said it. I don't want to be up at 5am anymore.
Oh shit, I've just realised my life has become a Janis Ian lyric. Again. Only this time I'm not depressed about being 17 anymore...

Tea and Sympathy

I don't want to ride the milk train anymore
I'll go to bed at nine and waken with the dawn
And lunch at half past noon and dinner prompt at five
The comfort of a few old friends long past their prime

Pass the tea and sympathy for the good old days long gone
We'll drink a toast to those who most believe in what they've won
It's a long, long time 'til morning plays wasted on the dawn
And I'll not write another line, for my true love is gone

When the guests have gone, I'll tidy up the rooms
And turn the covers down, and gazing at the moon
Will pray to go quite mad and live in long ago
When you and I were one, so very long ago

Pass the tea and sympathy for the good old days long gone
We'll drink a toast to those who most believe in what they've won
It's a long, long time 'til morning plays wasted on the dawn
And I'll not write another line, for my true love is gone

When I have no dreams to give you anymore
I'll light a blazing fire and wait within the door
And throw my life away, "I wonder why?" they all will say
And now I lay me down to sleep, forever and a day

Pass the tea and sympathy, for the good old days are dead
Let's drink a toast to those who best survived the life they've led
It's a long, long time 'til morning, so build your fires high
Now I lay me down to sleep, forever by your side

See. Easily distracted.
Right, I suggest that if you haven't already, get yourself a copy of Between The Lines by Janis Ian. Forgive my ramblings today, this isn't the post I was going to do. But you know how it is.
Oh, and count the shadows.

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sun, 04 May 2008 21:03:00 +0000

Oh For Fuck's Sake

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Fri, 02 May 2008 18:54:00 +0000

Not the first Dick to become Mayor of London

Humph

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 18:41:00 +0000

Humphrey Lyttelton 1921 - 2008
Samantha tells me she has to go now as she's off to the country residence of her new gentleman friend, who has some interesting birds in the thicket. He keeps a young chicken, but Samantha says there are also wild breeds there, and she can't wait to see his Woodcock, Pullet and Swallow."

"Samantha is something of a keen horse woman, and she tells me that she's off to see a trainer who's offered her the chance of a couple of races he wants her to contest. She's quite excited, as he's prepared to drop his jockeys to enter her at Newmarket."

"Samantha is a qualified croupier and often works at an exclusive Soho club where gamblers pay top money to play roulette all day and poker all night."

"Samantha is off on a dinner date with a gentleman friend from Moscow who's brought over a variety of caviares and an array of vodka-based aperitifs. She says he's going to offer her delicious food in his hotel room and then liquor out on the balcony."

Time Crash

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 19:02:00 +0000

Just in case anyone missed it, clicking on the Time Crash link over to your right, will take you to a point just after The Last of The TimeLords, and just before The Voyage of The Damned. Well, it will, until the Copyright Police find out anyway. Share and Enjoy.

Quick post

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 18:41:00 +0000

I've been even more lax in my posts recently, nearly 3 months since my last one. In that time I have been suspended by, and re-instated by my employers. Been through 6 weeks of Hell and had to fight for my reputation, health and sanity, without any support from my employers or union, I have much to tell you my young friends, however, I must check out the libel laws first.Although, without giving too much away, I won.

In the meantime, have this further proof that my Sky+ is more mental than Heather Mills. And a quick reminder that there's only 2 weeks to go before what will probably be David Tennant's final series of Doctor Who.

Although, the good news is... Takin' Over The Asylum is due out on DVD very soon.

Now, if you missed this series when it was first shown on BBC2, I urge you to buy a copy. One of the most beautiful, funny dramas ever produced by the good folk at BBC Scotland. Starring not only the aforementioned Mr Tennant, but the superb Ken Stott. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. I will post a full review when the DVD comes out. Anyway, that Sky + box thing....

2007 and all that

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 14:12:00 +0000

So, how was it for you?
In common with every newspaper and blogger in the world, with a few notable exceptions, I thought I'd have a wee look back on my highs and lows of the past year and maybe look ahead to whatever 2008 may throw at us.
Musically, the juggernaut of shite vomited (is this medically possible?)up by the likes of X Factor rumbles on. Ruining the once quite exciting prospect of waiting to discover what would be the Christmas No.1, something which has long since been over taken by whatever Simon Cowell says it is. The last time I was really excited about the Christmas Chart-Topper was back in the days of The Mike Flowers Pops. Sadly that year it was popular children's entertainer Michael Jackson who took the crown. Of course, it was the lovely Kevin Greening who championed Mr Flowers all those years ago. Of whom I will write at a later date. For now, Cheers Kevley.
Other lows in the world of music came in the relentless dumbing down of BBC6Music. Once an oasis of quality, now just a pale imitation of it's earlier self. That plays Oasis. What was once innovative and experimental, is now a rest home for former Xfm presenters and at times a playlist not out of place at Radio One. It is possible that I'm a bit miffed that Andrew Collins has gone and Gideon Coe has been shunted. And Phill Jupitus has also gone from Breakfast. Is nothing sacred.
Still on the plus side, Radiohead released their most accessible and upbeat album in a long time. Initially only via their website, but now on retro-compatible formats such as cd and vinyl. Go on, treat yourself. For myself, my musical year seems to have been taken over by digging out old favourites, and now my i-Pod is jam packed with Ultravox, Everything But the Girl (before they discovered dance music) Prefab Sprout, The Cure and The Smiths.
Book wise, I seem to have fallen out of love with novels. Either that or I've been reading some old tut. I do still enjoy reading, but these days I'm happy to spend my time with autobiographies and some of the post-"Round Ireland with a Fridge" type of books are still worth a look. Although, strangely, I've been quite impressed with Jimmy Carr and Lucy Greeves book on comedy and jokes. I posted earlier about Gordon Brown and his book on Courage, I still recommend it, but you might want to give Alastair Campbell's Diaries a bit of a body swerve. They could, and indeed should have been more exciting. But there was too much self censorship in those pages. I'll bet Malcolm Tucker wouldn't have wimped out in a similar way.
Television has had it's moments too. I won't go on again about it, much, but Doctor Who managed to produced some truly outstanding drama in the episodes Blink, Family of Blood and Human Nature. The "scandal" surrounding competition phone-ins never went away, with the upshot being...well pretty much as you were really. The BBC self flagellated, but re-introduced phone in competitions, ITV and Channels 4 and five looked a bit shamefaced for a couple of days but soon got back to whoring their soul, and the newspapers, with their own agendas, lapped it up. 2008 will be pretty much the same.
The sublime Life on Mars finished, but will be back, Back, BACK ish as Ashes to Ashes later this year. BBC Sunday nights were enlivened by Cranford and Stephen Fry did the business over on ITV as a slightly darker "Doc Martin" type. Doc Martin on the other hand, although a ratings hit, looked tired and past it's prime. Panorama gave us the extraordinary sight of a Scientologist not being the most flaky person in a room, thanks to incredible Shouty Man. John Sweeney. However, in his defence, if it had been me, given the circumstances, I'd have decked the Scientologist chap many hours earlier and then proceeded to dance on his twitching bones. It is possible I have some issues when smug and bullying representatives of religious cults are involved. UKtvG2 suddenly became "Dave", although as yet, no-one called Dave has changed his name to UKtvG2. Unless of course, you know better...Cyril.
Politically it was a year of change. Scotland now has, nominally, a Nationalist Government, run by Alex the Moon faced Gimp. This probably came about, not just by the mistrust in Labour but by the local difficulties experienced by The Scottish Socialists, who managed to tear themselves to shreds, lose any seats, and goodwill they may have had and had a wee bit of bother with the News of the World too. Round 2 of Sheridan versus News International is looming, and I'm not sure if my favoured outcome is possible. Surely both sides can't lose?
The evil that is David Cameron continues to weave it's malodorous spell on the country, and there seems to be no sign of his career being de-railed anytime soon. What is the power he has over the media? And indeed in voters in general. John Sweeney and myself should go round and shout at him. Isn't it time the rumours about Carlton, and their former employees were substantiated? It's not that I genuinely believe David Cameron is a Satan worshipping, bestialitist horse botherer with a vociferous appetite for cocaine, I just want to hear him deny it on Andrew Marr's Sunday Morning programme on BBC1.
Labour on the other hand quite brilliantly managed to eradicate any good will left to them. Even after the long goodbye from "Tone". Crisis after crisis, sloppy handling of PMQs and dithering of the highest order-again-from Gordon Brown has more than helped the Tories get back into the forefront of British politics. There appears to be no way back for Labour at the moment. And given the betrayal of trust demonstrated by the Party since 1997, it's hardly surprising.
The Lib-Dems finally got round to knifing their leader, again, and as I know very little of Nick Clegg, I'm going to say very little about them. It's what they're used to really. All I will say is that I still think they would be in a better position had they not dumped Charlie Kennedy. It is possible he had a drink problem, but only if judged by UK standards. He's from Fort William. By those standards he's a big girly lightweight.
On a more personal note, 2007 was the year I stopped buying a regular newspaper. I realised that all the bits from The Guardian I actually read were available for free on the GU website, and the bits I didn't read contributed to a large pile of waste paper. I've started to take a closer look at my health following my visit to hospital. With luck, the only thing about me jaundiced in 2008 will be my view of world. Sadly, thanks to spending too many weeks in hotels, followed by Christmas and New Year, my diet has left a lot to be desired in recent weeks, but I'll be back on track soon. Really must stop eating so much butter. And sugar.
I've changed jobs, but much as I'm enjoying my new work, I don't think it'll last, I want, indeed need some adventures this year. Maybe this'll be the year I step off into the void with my eyes shut. It's been a long time since I last did that. The Tories were in power then. It's good to step out of the comfort zone.
So what do I hope 2008 will bring?
I'd like to get my life back on track really. I've been bumbling about far too much recently. I've become weary of my own company. I'm tired of going on holiday on my own, and I'm tired of waking up at 3am on my own too. There is a section, Parenthesis, in Julian Barnes 1989 work "A History of the World in 10 and a half Chapters" I always seem to come back to, which sums up most of those late night insecurities and feelings. It's not the lightest bit of reading in the world but... Sorry, I digress.
I hope things are different this year. I hope I'm different this year.
Maybe it's time to say "Yes" a bit more.
Actually, there's no maybe about it.
Anyhoo, enough looking back at 2007, let's see what 2008 has to offer.
Soupy Twist.

Regeneration

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 21:28:00 +0000

Hello. Whilst you weren't looking I had a bit of a tidy up, and freshened the place up a bit. So farewell then purply lilac look. Farewell picture of Hadleigh Castle in Essex. Hello blackness and cleaner lines. And for this Festive time at least, have a snow dusted Tardis. Well, aren't all blogs filled with Doctor Who these days?
Well, no, actually. Certainly not the ones I read anyway, but I digress.
For the last month or so I've been finding my feet in my new and slightly grown-up job.
After the old shop closed, I tried working in a call centre for a while. This wasn't ever going to be permanent, but I thought I'd give it 6 months until I felt 100% fit again. I lasted 2 months. And only because I spent one week in hospital, had a weeks holiday and then worked a weeks notice when I came back from my holiday. Otherwise, I would have managed 5 weeks, and then chucked myself in the canal. I can't name the company I worked for, all I can say is they are
British and involved in Telecommunications. And without question, the worst company I have ever worked for. And I used to work for House of Fraser.
So, throwing caution to the wind, I decided to "Live the Rock n Roll dream" I got a job in a bank.
Oh yes! Home Insurance fixed premiums for next 3 years? High Interest Current Account? Saving for your child's future? That's m'job. And to be perfectly honest, I've enjoyed it so far.
Mind you, the best part of 3 weeks stuck in the Jurys Inn in Glasgow leaves you yearning for decent grub. Thankfully, Blue Lagoon chippy round the corner saved me on a couple of nights. Here's a wee tip should you be staying in the hotel mentioned above. Do not, under any circumstances have the vegetarian option. Ever. Doesn't matter what it might be, just say no!
I could have sicked up a more appetising lasagne. And the vegetable tikka masala? I was in Glasgow, they have Indian restaurants there, lots of them. Really really good ones too. What possessed me to have the lumps of green pepper in a runny sauce, I shall never know.
Mind you, the beds. I have seldom slept so well in my life. Either they were the finest beds in the world or the AirCon was blasting out Valerian and Lavender.
I do like Glasgow though. Always have, but I've sort of ignored it in recent years. If my training did nothing else, I'll always be grateful for the fact it rekindled my love of the city.
And most of the people training with me were lovely. And funny. And I shall miss them.
Not sure they'll feel the same about me, but who knows. Maybe one day we'll all meet up again and talk about APR and BGC. Maybe not.
Think of this post as a filler. I'm currently trying to emulate Gwen and post 56 Things About Me
but I'm stuck on number 4. So bear with me.

...just a quick thing...

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Fri, 02 Nov 2007 18:05:00 +0000

I thought I'd keep things up to date with a tiny post before I clear off for a week.
Spent much of this week in hospital in Inverness, as a sequel to my earlier illness. The last couple of months have been a bit odd to say the least. What with jobs coming and going, the hospitalisation of my father and indeed myself, and a couple of other things I've not posted such as my 99 year old Grandmother's dementia, and subsequent failures of the care of the elderly in the Scottish Highlands. Forget all the crap spouted by the Daily Mail-centric opinion writers about our old folk getting free, wonderful health care. It's bollocks. In fact where I live they've taken to shutting down the odd place here and there just to make things a bit more difficult. To listen to the people who phone 5Live and LBC, you'd think the care homes here are swimming in milk and honey whilst the inmates, sorry, residents, are sung to their slumbers by Aled Jones and Daniel O Donnell, before being wrapped in cotton wool, and fed quince and grapes...
However, that is for another blog, later.
I just wanted to say that having been for all my tests and scans, apparently I'm fine. Nothing suspicious, "in fact", and I'm quoting now, "Mr Soupy Twist, you can go home whenever you like..." Sadly the surgeon did tell me this 5 minutes AFTER the last bus from Inverness to my hometown had left for the evening. So I got to spend another night in the Highland Capital's lovely hospital, mind you, the food's not bad at all, and the staff are very jolly.
And now, I'm going to take myself off for a week. In fact, as it's November, I'm off to a caravan by the Ayrshire coast. And if you're passing, please feel free to pop in for a cup of Ginger and Lemon Tea. And a pizza. And some chocolate.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. And Ultravox.

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 18:01:00 +0000

The clocks have gone back, the nights are drawing in and deep within the primeval heart of every man a desire to lie in the dark listening to old albums awakens. Alright, perhaps not every man, but certainly me. Every year it happens. One day I'll be going about my normal business, the next, it's a cold, wet, dark Sunday night and I'm lying on the floor, headphones on, re-living my teenage years. And I reckon that this has been going on for over twenty years now. And this year, it started today. Quite without warning I found myself drifting in and out of conciusness listening to Ultravox's Lament album. Which I probably haven't listened to in full since I was about 20. In the old days, I would have supplemented my inappropraite album listenign with the Early Sunday Evening musings of Annie Nightengale. Straight after another God forsaken Top 40 Countdown with Bruno Brookes, or Simon Bates, which came itself, straight after the aural shite-fest that was "Sing Something Simple". Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Autumn. Now don't get me wrong. I like Autumn. I love watching the colours change from green to red, gold and brown. There is a freshness in the air and there is sense of change. I enjoy Spring for much the same reason. But this year, Summer wasn't exactly brilliant, even by the standards I'm used to, and it never really got into gear. So for some months now, there has been an overall feeling of "meh" about the place. In truth, I've been waiting for Summer to start. But now I have to accept that this year, it's been and gone. I believe it was a Thursday.I suppose you'll want to know why I came to be listening to Ultravox.

Truth is I've been sticking stuff onto a "popular fruit based mp3 player" and in between transferring the entire Radio series's of The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and loads of lovely stuff from the 4AD back catalogue onto it, I've been going through my not so fashionable music too. And there is a large part of the music of the 80s I still hold dear, as it was the music of the school discos, the soundtrack to my growing up, the stuff I pretended to hate but secretly went out and bought. So yes, there is a lot of stuff by The Smiths and This Mortal Coil on my portable tunefest, but there is a good chance that OMD, Johnny Hates Jazz and Curiosity Killed the Cat may find themselves in there too. Poor Ben Vol-a-vaunt, where is he now. Bless him, I wonder if he ever realised how much of an arse he looked in that beret of his. He's probably giving style tips to JayKay on HatTwattery as I type.

Actually, I think I may return to this theme in the coming days. Your Guilty 80's Musical Secrets. Book your place in Father Joseph's Pop Confessional now.

quality music-at a price you can afford

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 16:14:00 +0000

Poll Position

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sat, 06 Oct 2007 16:11:00 +0000

So, after months of frenzied speculation, and a poll rating that has gone up and down like Casanova's underpants, Gordon Brown has ruled out a snap election. It says so as BREAKING NEWS on BBC News 24. Although, if the rest of the British Media is to be beleived, I should take everything said by the BBC with more than a pinch of salt. Obviously, if it were a cynic, I might be inclined to believe that the other outlets of the Media in the UK may have their own agendas when it comes to pepetuating their anti BBC bias. I might say that, if I were a cynic.

Oh hold on, the chaps and lady chaps on Sky News are saying it too. So it must be true.

Mind you, it seemed highly unlikely it was going to happen anyway.

The Labour Party have no money to fight another election so soon after the last one, the Tories have had enough of licking their -often self inflicted- wounds, and are putting on a united front. A report in the Sunday Telegraph on the eve of the Tory conference suggested Lord Ashcroft had already spend £10m on campaigning before the election had even started. Hoping to repeat the success of his previous campaign when in the first three months of 2005 he paid nearly £300,000 in donations to 33 candidates in marginal constituencies. The effects of this were clear for all to see: 11 of the candidates unseated Labour candidates and five vulnerable Conservative MPs were saved. This time around, he is refining the campaign to target an even smaller group of seats, and Brown knows the effects could be far more serious than in 2005.Gordon has been in the leader's chair for 101 days now, and probably doesn't want to run the risk of being turfed out of job he's waited so long to have.

So, has he bottled it?

Possibly. Or he could be the shrewd, prudent political power he clearly feels he is.

For a man who wrote such a fine selection of Political essays under the collective heading of "Courage" it is claimed he has, at times, been shown wanting when it's come to demonstarting the courage of his own convictions. When the whole of the UK fell out of love with Tony Blair, Gordon Brown didn't go for the kill, he stayed in the background, "brooding" if the media were to be believed. Maybe. Or he showed loyalty to his Party, and his leader, knowing that an all out civil war would do irrepairable damage to Labour. For many, the long dark years spent in the wilderness weren't all that long ago. If a week is a long time in politics, 18 years is akin to the rise and fall of the Mayan empire.

Only time will tell if PM Brown has shown weakness in ruling out an election now, or if he's shown great courage.

Politics is a fickle business. 7 days ago, Gordon Brown was hanging ten as he rode the crest of a wave, bouyed by a surge in the polls, this week it's "Just Call Me Dave" Cameron that's on a high, mind you, after all his years working for Carlton he should be used to that. That and talking unprompted for hour upon hour...

By which I mean, they were once a very successful Media organisation, with very impressive communication skills.

Personally, I'm quite glad that there isn't to be an election just yet.

It's Autumn and Hallowe'en is just around the corner, surely opening the door to ghoulish visions of the undead imploring you to choose between a trick or a treat, would only get in the way of Hallowe'en for the kids.

Boom, and if you will, tish... thank you very much, I'm here all week, try the soup.

A Glimpse Into My Soul

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 13:58:00 +0000

Just a quick one, this weekend I'd been going through my old phone and binning pictures and other junk, when I came upon this snapshot. Possibly the finest episode of Holby City ever. Coming up next on BBC1, Casualty, Harry stumbles across Davros in the staff canteen and Charlie and Josh are killed by The Master. Obviously this picture seems to imply that my Sky+ is filled with episodes of QI, Holby and Torchwood. This couldn't be further from the truth. It's mostly episodes of Shaun the Sheep.

Mellow Yellow

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 17:25:00 +0000

And so the blogging begins again.

Never the most regular of posters, my blog has been somewhat lacking on updates in recent weeks. This has been for a number of reasons. Firstly, the company I have worked for for most of my working life, has finally shuffled off it's retail coil. And it has been a slow painful death. This has meant that I have been travelling up and down this fine country for various job interviews, using up any spare time or days off I had. On a positive note, every interview I had resulted in a job offer. Unfortunately, the job I wanted, in the town I wanted, was snatched from my grasp. Not by my failure to find somewhere to live, but by my body rebelling against me in a most painful way. And in a way that allowed me to resemble, in skin tone at least, my Simpson-a-like. Oh how I laughed.

Acute pancreatitis. I have never in my life experienced anything as painful, or as unpleasant. And this comes from the perspective of someone who lived through Thatcher's Britain (yes indeed, ladies and gentlemen, a little bit of politics, doubleseatdoubleseatgottagetadoubleseat, sparkly suit, git face)and had his... No that's another story, and not one I really want to go into just yet.

So, there I was, lying on the shop floor, sweating, turning yellow, and cursing the indigestion I seemed unable to shift, and slowly, but surely it got worse. Now as a lardyarsed Scotsman, who hasn't taken as much care of himself as he should, every thought going through my head seemed to end at the same point, "You may as well face it Tubbs, you're not going to be sending any Christmas cards this year..." oh alright, the actual thought was, "Shit, I'm going to die" well that and a bemused "Didn't I used to have white bits in my eyes?". Now all this started on the Friday, by Wednesday I decided I should see a doctor of some sort. Doctor seemed to think I'd have been better going to A&E. Probably on the previous Friday.

So off I went to my local hospital. For reasons best known to itself, there is a part of the Medical Ward in the same part as the Maternity Ward. The very Maternity Ward I was born in. "Brilliant" I thought, "I'm going to die 10 feet from where I was born, how pitiful is that?".

Now, you've probably guessed by now that I didn't die. I'm not yellow either. And I have lost around 20lbs since my collapse. Actually, I lost most of that on the Friday, still, it's still off. People I haven't seen for a while have commented on how well I'm looking, how I've lost weight and am looking fresher and younger than I have for a long time. And the pancreatitis? Apparently it may never rear it's head again, nasty gallstone getting lodged in places it shouldn't be. And now that I seem to be living on porridge, fruit and low fat-well-everything, it might just have been the warning I needed to give myself the kick up the arse I needed. I'm sure that when it started in my head, that sentence made sense.

Sadly, because of the illness, the job in Ayr fell through. I really wanted the job too. Still, obviously wasn't to be. So for the past few weeks, instead of the stress of moving house and starting a new job in the same week, I've been in hospital, lost weight, gone from pink to yellow and back to pink again, and thrown myself into a Closing Down sale. Must end Saturday, Everything Must Go. Including me. Free to a good home.

However, on Monday, I start a new job here, in my hometown, and it's 9-5, Monday to Friday, every weekend off, every Bank holiday off and pay wise, I'm no worse off than I am in my current job. Now, that might not seem remarkable to most people, but ever since I left school I have worked in Retail. The last time I had every, or even regular, weekends off it was May 1987. And I don't have the stress of moving house. Yet.

So, this weekend, I shall hang up my Retail Hat. For a while anyway. No more kilts, menswear, tailoring or malt whisky. No more soul destroying trips to the NEC in February, and no more salty soup at the Scottish Menswear shows in Moodiesburn and Hamilton. No more Sales reps. No more late night curry frenzies in Birmingham. No more smelly old tweed.I've sold everything from postcards to HD Televisions, and for the best part of 2005, Ladies Accessories, anything you need to know about Radley Handbags, just ask. And in 3 years, I've managed to not only close the oldest established store in the town (1860-2004) I've closed the local Currys and the new Menswear shop (from the "ashes" of the old store) we only opened in April 2006. You'd think people would have stopped employing me by now wouldn't you?

And will I miss working in Retail? Ask me after a month working in an office.

But wish me luck, I think I'm going to need it.

HELP!

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 21:21:00 +0000

Not a blog as such, in fact it's now a cry for help.
I need somewhere to live, preferably in Ayr, as that is where my new job is, but happy to live anywhere on the bus or train route.
Do you, or any of your friends, have a spare room for a poor ex leper?
If not, have you a copy of the Ayrshire Post handy?

It's yesterday once more

gari@josephgmaccoll.fsnet.co.uk (Gari) — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 21:17:00 +0000

Throughout my childhood, it seemed school holiday telly meant one thing and one thing only. Old black and white serials on BBC1.
The finest example of this genre being The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.
As sure as day follows night and the Weather follows the News, it would be on. Until that is, the early 80's. Suddenly grainy old black and white serials fell out of favour, and the yoof went off in search of The Kids of Degrassi High and The Red Hand Gang-although I'm not sure if that series was ever shown in Northern Ireland-leaving poor old Robinson and his man Friday to gather dust in a French film library.
As touched upon on an earlier posting, until the age of 7 I grew up with just the one channel, and tv during the day was a treat. And I loved Robinson Crusoe.
And now, it's back, back, back! Thanks to the good people at Network DVD, those grainy images are available whenever you want them.
And surprisingly, it's as good as it ever was. The opening scenes with the ship being battered by huge breaking waves, as one by one the crew are sent overboard or crushed to death are worthy of many films made today on multi million pound sets.
Given that the last time I watched any of this footage was 25 years ago, it's comforting that so much is still familiar, as if it was only a week ago. At times the narration jars, but maybe it's just his accent. And the music, oh what a sound. Haunting and beautiful, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled as the sweeping orchestral score soars and swoops like a seagull on the wind.
Sometimes it's easy to see the past through a haze of rose tinted nostalgia. But sometimes, just sometimes, it really is as good as you remember.