TV Review: Thirteen, Episode 5 (BBC3)

If you go down to Cabot Circus today you’ll be sure of a big surprise and it’s not that Next have an up to 50% sale on. The scene is set for the most action packed minutes of what has been a steadily paced series. Ivy, in a bid to save Phoebe Tarl has been summoned to meet her kidnapper in this most public of places. The police are hiding in the shadows keeping a watchful eye on events, well maybe watchful isn’t the word as she gets lost in the crowds before our villain of the peace shows up in a photobooth with Phoebe on his lap. He whispers something into Ivy’s ear, presumably that he will set the girl free if she goes with him and this is where shit gets real. He removes her earpiece, puts Phoebe into a lift and takes off with Ivy. It’s an intersting juxtaposition to the CCTV footage we had at another shopping centre earlier in the series, this time Ivy is reluctant and internally fighting rather than emotionally attached to him. They flee in a van with, as chances would have it, only Elliott and Lisa is the way. Mark White puts his foot to the peddle and DC Carne puts his on the brake in the middle of the road, a one car roadblock. Our favourite incompetent officers are flipped over in the collison and White speeds free. It’s a heart skipping opening that almost feels lifted from another kind of show but it works brilliantly all the same.

In White’s new home a fascinating exchange of mind control versus maniplulation takes place. Ivy thinking on her feet, her freedom having given her some confidence convinces him she didn’t escape, that she went to look for him and the police chanced upon her. She also gets him to free her from her ropes. It’s great that White wasn’t played as typical madman or butch alpha male, he is a standard looking guy with Russell Howard’s accent but not his lazy eye. He is quietly spoken and not at all physically imposing but the threat is always bubbling under the calm exterior. The tension becomes almost unbearable as events turn darker. There’s an attempted murder, a head smashed against a wall and arson to finish things off. Not forgetting the creepy need to dress Ivy up in a granny dress. Does he have some sort of mummy issues? In a poetic shot she flees the house seconds before it explodes and the emergency services show up with the Moxam family in a moment of perfect synchronicity. A soulful version of Royal Blood’s ‘Out Of The Black’ kicks in and the emotion flows. She has burnt her bridges and left a rather scolded Mark White in the rubble.

Elliott and Lisa spend most of the episode led on thier backs – and not in a fun way. Following the accident they are hospitalised but Carne, ever the stubborn mule limps out and back into work. As usual with this programme there are severe questions that need to be asked of the police. Why didn’t they put a tracker on Ivy just in case? White didn’t check for one and how on Earth did their target elude them when they supposedly had the building surrounded? Quite frankly all the police on this case need to be put on gardening leave with immediate effect. These can be overlooked because it is a drama and if everybody did their jobs properly there’d be no fun in that. Elliott did finally come good when he noticed that what looked like a badly drawn  picture of a ladder was actually a local landmark tower, resulting in the discovery of Mark’s whereabouts. Not that it mattered in the end as he was already charcoal by then.

The real downfall of this series finale is the avalanche of unanswered questions it leaves in its wake. Never should a TV show give you everything on a plate but keeping a lot of the ingredients locked in the cupboard after all the intricate build up is a travesty. While it’s true the story we’ve been told until now has been removed from Ivy’s perspective, there is a slight flip reverse as soon as she enters White’s home. For the first time we see their relationship from her viewpoint and what follows is a wasted opportunity to provide answers. We do learn two things: That Ivy was pregnant but lost the baby and that for the last year of her captivity White allowed her more freedom, even creating a “homely” bedroom for her. However too many pieces of the puzzle are lost – what happened for the first twelve years? There is no backstory at all. Why did he choose Ivy? What was all that stuff about him working at the school for? Why the pseudonyms Alison and Leonard? Most importantly, there is no hint of any motive. Writer Marnie Dickens has stated that putting the villain to the foreground takes away from the victim’s story. Surely even some hint of answers in the finale would not be putting him centre. Ivy’s story feels somewhat diminished by the lack of any hard facts. Even now we don’t really know what she went through or why and this lack of information is what takes away from her tale. Nothing else.

And so to the supporting characters, who added to a web of intrigue finely spun, only to be sucked into the hoover of script confusion (there is no such thing as a hoover of script confusion).

• Mr Headmaster man’s relevance faded more and more each week. So much so that he didn’t even turn up here.  Did it matter that White worked at his school in the end? Nope. He was a bit part player in the reunion of Christina and Angus at most.
• Tim. Oh, Timmy Tim Tim. He had so much to say to Ivy and ended up saying nothing. Which is a fitting statement for the minor cast in general. Did he realise he wasn’t in love with Ivy? Who knows? Do we care? Still, he and Yazz are all good again so you could say the only way is up from here. Yes, second week in a row for that joke and not even sorry.
• All Craig’s hints of control issues just came to nothing as he briefly showed up to reunite with Emma and all was forgotten Literally.
• Eliose proved perfunctory TO EVERYTHING.
• At least Elliott and Lisa look set to be together, once she’s forgiven him for nearly putting her in a coma and/or nearly giving her brain damage. It’s difficulties like these all strong relationships need to get through.

Harsh maybe, but it’s also a compliment that the build up was so finely worked that it in terms of arc it fell at the final hurdle. That should not take away from an exceptional portrayal by Jodie Comer throughout and she was backed by a strong cast too. Thirteen has proved intriguing , suspenseful, thrilling and a little bit frustrating in the same way someone you care about has annoying quirks but you forgive them all the same.  As a series conclusion it is deeply unsatisfying but as an hour of television this was drama played with maximum tension and plenty of class. 8/10

 

TV Review: Line Of Duty, Series 3.1 (BBC1)

Television drama has come a long way in recent years, the plodding footsteps of The Bill have long petered out and in its place have charged (pun intended) a plethora of police dramas full of fresh twists and plenty of style in what is now a crowded market. Some with more success than others of course, Suspects should be respected for its attempt to turn the genre on it’s scripted head but sadly the execution was a misfire. We love a good cop show even if most of us don’t love cops. In 2014, Line of Duty proved itself a cut above with the extrordinary story of Lyndsey Denton whose shiftiness was played to a masterful degree by Keeley Hawes. This time round there is a different bad guy to steal the limelight and the lines, on first impressions are much less blurred. This time we know our subject is guilty but what stirs the procedural pot is the question of his motivation and the lives he is dragging into this mess.

There is no misfiring here, certainly not by Danny Waldron who charges ahead of his team and shoots suspect Ronan Murphy in cold blood despite the fact he had discarded his gun. Once his team turn up he convinces them with vicious confidence to alter the crime scene. Rod and Leanne fire hollow shots, Hari doesn’t but is implicated by being there. It’s a sensational opening, holding all the tension and action of a Hollywood thriller but with a naturalistic feel that adds to the atmosphere. The car chase isn’t glamourous or overdone and is all the better for it.

The AC-12 are back, the anti police corruption clan (probably not their official title) remain the same in the shape of DS Arnott, DC Fleming, DS Cottan and supt Ted Hastings.. Their entrance signals a complete shift in pacing as an intense twelve minute interogation scene follows. It’s a sensational exchange of accusations and rebuffing. Twelve non stop minutes of manic wordplay and withering looks and it is a brave move so early on. Mays portayal of Waldron is fierce, showcasing the nastiness and brute ingtelligence that might just get him out of this fix. Simply, he is an arrogant bully but one in a position of power and with weapons at his disposal.

After such an intense opening they are surely playing their aces too early? Not a bit of it. The twists unravel as the politics of everyone involved gets more clouded. Hari won’t testify aganst Waldron and it’s clear there’s a history there. Also, Waldron is snooping outside his house with intention to snipe and that isn’t the act of a good friend really is it? Kate joins the firearm squad to spy information and watches the team falling apart under the pressure of the lies. She also nearly accidently shoots a child but Danny stops her in time so at least he has some boundaries, eh?

Not content with one murder in an hour, Waldron kills another man connected to his first victim, raiding his house, kicking him in the balls then God knows what, as we are spared the gory details. He fed the dog though which was nice of him – even if it will starve anyway once he leaves. So is Danny killing off officer’s of an old case that affected him? Did he, in the speech he delivered when ordering his second victim to take off his clothes, recall previous sexual abuse that had hapeneed to him or someone close? When he says “I was being sent to meet him with a gun” he comes across as a one man police extremist, intent on a justice that the law itself can’t bring. Notably he later says to Martin “When this is all done I will suffer for my actions, I’m under no illusion of a happy ending”.

In all this havoc there was little time for personal stories. There was no hint of the troubles that Hastings had last time round and we only get a smooch in the car park for Martin and a brief phone call home from Kate. This was all about setting up a new case and HOW. In sixty minutes the show achieved the impossible and upped its game further. A bit melodramatic? Absolutely. An edge of the seat, gawp at the screen moment of triumph? No doubt about it. Has it jumped the shark? Not at all. It’s jumped a skyscraper which has twelve double decker buses on top and the result is bloody spectatcular. And that conclusion was bloody and spectacular. 10/10

 

TV Review: Thirteen, Episode 4 (BBC3)

There may be one skeleton in the cellar but naturally many more lie in the cupboards of everyone connected to the Moxam case. Ivy finds herself in custody and under questioning is quiet as the grave. The threat of arrest and the supporting arms of a mother lead to the truth about Dylan coming out. She didn’t murder him of course but the fact that there was even the slightest suspicion she might have is full credit to the writing. Kudos too, to Jodie Comer who throughout the interrogation scene is a bambi eyed mix of lost, angry and distressed.

Carne is a man on a mission this week, furious at being taken in by Ivy’s misdiretion he cuffs her aggressivly, punches the table and jumps off his wits end. Lisa, despite her cold exterior has gradually emerged as the one with both heart and sense – as she ruefully says “I do (take things seriously) I just don’t let it affect my work “. As the series has progressed there have been more and more questionable antics from the police and it is also worth noting a lack of support from outside sources. Yes, this situation is one of a kind for this country but where are the experts from abroad who have been involved in similar cases? For the quality the show generally represents these are quibbles we can put down to dramatic effect.

Let’s not forget in all this that Mark White has kidnapped Phoebe and the hunt is still stuttering. Not content with writing letters, his method of communication has progressed to phones as he calls the police staion demanding to talk with ‘Alison’. The scene where Ivy walks through the station as officers stare was very reminiscent of Life On Mars without the smoking and moustaches. It felt like Gene Hunt was going to shout out “Oi, grubby cardi!” at any moment. White corners them into a showdown, Ivy has to meet him at Cabot Circus and demands for no police to attend. AS IF.

While the Mark White thread is ramping up to full gear, many of the secondary stories are limping to unsatisfying conclusions. Eloise’s guilt seems soley centred on not meeting Ivy that fateful day which was a reveal last time out. Tim too is proving a letdown – he simply wants to declare his love for Ivy. We also have confirmation that Natasha and Henry were together 13 years ago but it was more a partnership of convenience than passion.

So, in a rare glimmer of hope (yes really) Natasha and Angus look set to have put their issues behind them while relationships elsewhere are eroding like flesh left to rot since, say about 2009. Craig has packed up his things and left Emma, Tim crawls back into the bed of Yazz but stares at the ceiling with another girl on his mind.  The only way isn’t up with Yazz, there’s also the clinging to a relationship when you love someone else way. Not quite so catchy admittedly.

The stakes are high for next week, hopefully a measured, intriguing series doesn’t descend into farce and become a spaghetti western set in a Bristol shopping centre (“Are youse lookin at me babber?”). There’s a lot resting on this, bringing a kidnapper and murderer to justice, a child’s life and not forgetting that Ivy will be able to pop into Topshop and buy a new jumper.  7/10

 

CASE NOTES:

– When Ivy muttered “sorry,sorry, sorry” she was aiming it at Mark wan’t she?

– Will we ever see Mark’s face properly (other than photographs) or will he be a near invisible menace throughout?

– Is Phoebe still alive?

–  While it’s very unlikely Phoebe is Ivy’s child, there is still the distinct possibility that she had a child with White.

– Who else felt a bit sorry for Mr headmaster man? Even if it was for just a few seconds?

– Will the case be fully solved and have a full stop?

– Then will Lisa and Elliott have some sexy making up time. If so can we watch?

 

THEORIES:

– Mark White will be captured and Phoebe rescued.

– Mark will be captured and Phoebe will be missing or dead.

– Mark captures Ivy setting up series 2 and let’s face it, the sacking of Carne and Merchant!

– A mixture of some of the above or none of it.

– Glad to be of help

TV Review: Thirteen, Episode 3 (BBC3)

 

There is a very different feel to proceedings as we enter the half way stage in this glorious web of intrigue. However, it is a shame that the cliffhanger ending from last week now feels a bit soapy and redundant, resolved as it was within a minute. It turns out the perpetrator dragging Ivy away was the father of missing girl Phoebe, hellbent on answers from our protagonist. Luckily, little ‘sis Emma rushes out and the family follow. We now know that Phoebe is not Ivy’s child but naturally, as soon as we get one answer more questions follow.

The vibe is less dark drama and more a dysfunctional episode of Family Affairs. Here, everything including the kitchen sink is thrown into unsettling the domestic set up further. While Ivy and Emma are finally bonding again, Craig is taking exception to the disruption it’s causing his relationship. His nice guy persona decreases throughout as mild agitation becomes ultimatums and glimpses of aggression. Things truly spiral when the truth of Angus’ affair surface. It sends Ivy into a rage, the first time ever we see her break. He leaves with his tail (or a much ruder word) between his legs. Yet another man in her life is causing problems too, as gormless Tim’s attempts of reconciliation are rebuffed and his pictures torn down in the bedroom.

The Mark White storyline may seem like it’s taking a back seat to all the familial unrest but, perhaps purposefully his influence is always lurking. He sends a letter under the pseudonym of Leonard to the Moxam’s house that’s addressed to ‘Alison’, the name he called her in captivity. It reads “I know you didn’t leave me, I know you’ll be back” and his sinister boot print is stamped on the hour. As for good cop and bad cop, between withering looks of hate and bedroom escapades they still have time to discover Mr White has a half brother, Dylan whose prints were also at the red doored house. Sadly, as a team their pairing has all the unity of Madonna and Guy Ritchie, their different methods hindering the case big time. Perhaps this is why you should never mix a difficult kidnapping case with pleasure. That old saying, eh?

While episode three may have lacked the surprise and drive shown so far it feels like events are building up to some very big things indeed.  The slight dip in quality ends on the tantalising caveat: “I should never have left him. All I want is not to be alone any more.” With this, we are caught up in the web once again. 8/10

 

CASE NOTES:

– That chair really could have been pushed that yard rather than lifted. Integral plot hole there.

– Who does Mr headmaster man want to make it up to? Ivy? Christina?

– Is Craig showing unhealthy signs of control brimming to the surface? “You’re my girl” sounded very pointed.

– Did Ivy spot as such when talking about the photos of him and Emma together?

– Unsurprsingly, Ivy’s views on sex are conflicted. She seemed surprised when Emma declared she liked it and went off Elliott almost immediately when clocking that he had been sleeping with Merchant. It must be said, the moment Merchant tucked her clothes in at the crime scene was a tad silly.

– Tim really doesn’t seemed very arsed that his wife is pissed off. Is he preoccupied by love for Ivy or guilt? And for what?

– Eloise flitters between shifty and naive. We aren’t much closer to learning her big secret. What we have discovered is that she makes for an annoying flatmate.

– Who is in the bag?  All signals point to Dylan. Or worse – a load of rotten potatoes?

 

THEORIES:

– It seems increasingly likely that Ivy left of her own free will. What made her take that leap? Was it because Mark killed Dylan and then feared for her own life? Mark also offered forgiveness in his letter, did they have a massive falling out?

– When Ivy previously said “This was ours” was she referring to Dylan? Was he also a captive?

– On a bigger scale, there is a possibilty that Ivy killed Mark’s half brother.

 

–

My Own Personal Room 101

Think of it as catharsis. To share is to get things of your chest and some things need saying. We all have pet peeves that drive us to distraction, even the nicest and calmest of people. I’ve always been told I’m too mellow. I’d agree. My focus has never been strong enough to end up being the rock star or writer I desired to be. I have short bursts of drive and confidence then lose it in a heartbeat. So yes, I’m a bit too chill but despite this there is a string of things that do drive me to distraction. How high my blood pressure will be after this I do not know but here we go, let’s commence without the aid of any Frank Skinner props..

 

People who read and walk AT THE SAME TIME

They walk amongst us, the book zombies plague our streets like intellectual neanderthals. I have to admire them for one thing: how when the world is going on all around them they don’t have to reread the same sentence ten times over. They stare down at the page on crowded pavements and as they CROSS THE ROAD. I mean, REALLY. Surely a good book is a chance to immerse yourself in that world, paint images of the story in your mind. I can only assume they are all reading really shit books.

See also: People who ride their bikes with earphones in.

 

Fake tans

Pale is natural. Natural is sexy. Orange can be a great thing too.  I wouldn’t want an orange that wasn’t orange. What I’m trying to say in a roundabout sort of way is.. be yourself. If you’re pale be pale. If you’re an orange be an orange.

 

Snails and slugs

Let me tale you a tale of my troubled childhood. Remember the days when the milkman used to leave bottles on doorstep? (or more if you are Mrs O’Reilly)

A far more innocent time I’m sure you’d agree. Such peace was shattered the moment I was eating my bowl of cereal and about to put the spoon in my mouth when I saw a pair of slimy eyes poking out from it. The snail had obviously fallen in from the bottle but it set me on a lifetime hatred and borderline fear of the things. For weeks I was worried I’d swallowed some, that they were breeding inside me and that I’d give birth to snail babies. I had an overactive imagination, ok?

At least snails have the compassion to hide away sometimes. Slugs have no shame, flaunting thier disgusting gooeyness for all too see. The temerity of the slimy bastards. They are exhibitonist snails and love terrifying me. In my first ever flat loads of the bastards kept crawling on the kichen floor, there’d be ten to twenty of the gnarly fuckers most days. I’m not one for cruelty against animals but salt is the only option in moments of extreme terror such as this. I would write a horror movie about them but I’d be too scared to write it and the fact that they exist in the first place is frightening enough.

I couldn’t google image that shizzle so I thought “what is much nicer to see than slugs?” and the answer was Jenna Coleman in her frillies. A bit of a leap to some maybe, but not in my mind.

 

The term ‘Mansplaining’

Let’s try and forget the fact that it’s a horrid amalgamation of two words and focus on the main issue here. I’m not a “not all men” advocate at all. Some men are sexist idiots. some don’t respect women’s opinions or rights and they need telling off for that. I want equality for all sexes and races and unicorns running about in fields and stuff. I get where the horrid term came from but it can’t be used for every situation.

At the start of the year Emma Kennedy tweeted about a scene in a TV show that she claimed was sexist. I replied I didn’t see it that way and why I didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t rude or aggressive, I was just tweeting as if in conversation. She replied with “Well, thank God I’ve got a man to explain it all for me”. I was not talking down to her but her second reply was even ruder. She immediately concluded that because I had a dick my view on something to do with feminism was invalid. Worse still, I checked her mentions and most people were singing from the same page as me. She wasn’t being rude to the women who disagreed, of which there was quiye a lot, only the men. Her stance was instantly sexist in itself. She then tweeted that it was hilarious that men were getting agitated by a women forming an opinion when in actual fact they were getting agitated by her reponses to their opinion. Feminism doesn’t work if you rule out the opinions of half the population, Emma Kennedy as one herself should realise this. It needs men to make it work. Attitudes of men need to improve of course but don’t shout that they’re sexist when they haven’t expressed anything that implies this. If you do, men will stay quiet about more important things because they won’t be arsed with the hassle. By expressing her views that “Sherlock was explaining feminism to a room full of women” she showed everything that was wrong with her brand of feminism.

My friend Laura hadn’t heard of the term before and asked if there was one called Ladysplaining? Thinking about it there probably is, it’s probably women explaining to men that they’re being sexist when they weren’t being sexist.

 

Do you know what annoys me most about hoovering? The Gtech Airram advert This thing HAUNTS me. Not in my nightmares – in my every day life. As soon as I switch on the telly at home it starts. When I walk into the staff room at work the TV plays it a second later as if it’s been triggered by a ‘Mikey alert’ button. I find his voice annoying but I know every ebb and flow of the speech pattern, every bit of dialogue. (“and it shhhackles you to the fLooor”). He brags that it takes no time at all to do the work but there’s two of him! There’s twins doing the job of one person! That’s cheating. He also has twin dogs which is just plain creepy. The Gtech Airram advert is my nemesis. It is my Moriarty. I feel the constant urge to buy one in order to trash the thing when it arrives.

 

Michael Buble

As if you couldn’t get smugger than Robbie Williams? Michael Buble has excelled so much in levels of cheese that he has shares in Cathedral city. There is one true blessing, he only ever appears once a year for Christmas but that just makes Christmas an even worse experience. And you’ll soon know my feelings on that.

AND ANOTHER THING: Write your own sodding songs and stop covering tunes that have been done a million times before. Actually no, don’t even  write your own songs.  Just stop.

 

Printers

It’s a simple relationship. I don’t like them and they don’t like me. My current one (I have a long list of exes I no longer talk to) takes ten minutes of needlessly noisy whirring to wake up. Then it jams. On the rare times it does print at first attempt it tells me the ink is about to run out. HOW?! You rarely let me print anything! Are the ink fairies stealing it?!

 

Small talk

I agree with Roxette about many things. I too, love the sound of crashing guitars and you should always listen to your heart – but it is not the small, small, small talk that makes it happen. Why as a society is silence, or rather not bleating bullshit all the time seen as such a taboo?

For the most part, small talk is saying exactly the same things during a conversation with only slightly different wording, it’s using fifty words when you can use ten. I’ve been in a new job four weeks and everybody has literally  the same conversations every day. It’s like Groundhog Day on a budget, set in a staff room.

Don’t get me wrong, I always try to be polite, say hello and ask how people are. If there are avenues of conversation that flow then I will follow it. Around strangers or people I don’t know that well I don’t rabbit on and on and I know from personal experience that people either conclude I’m a “a bit quiet” or that I’m rude. Or both. It’s neither. I can do the basics but just not for that long. Small talk isn’t small to me, it’s massive. The effort it takes is incredible and it tires me out.

 

Letters from the Inland Revenue

This is your working out based on your earnings from four years ago. For some reason. It is multiplied by pish and divided by loopy la la. The total amount is declared below. There is no total amount. The tax code for the year ahead is listed. Where? There is no tax code. And what’s that seperate figure there? Huh? Do I owe you or you owe me? Why aren’t any of these words in the English language? I wasn’t aware Klingons could be accountants.

 

The Tories

It’s an easy target I know, but hey so are the poor, disabled and needy that they seek to undermine.

Here we have millionnaires claiming to care for “hard working families” while cutting what keeps them going. Quite simply, they know nothing of the lives of the public they serve. Austerity is a fraud, it is designed to keep their rich friends rich and keep the working class in their place. We could be here all day really, it is a neverending spiral of hatred they preach. They push through bills without majority which is an afront to democracy. Speaking of which, they are openly trying to rig the voting system to ensure we always have conservative rule. If they win in 2020 I’m leaving the country. Fuck it, I’ll even hide in my own Room 101 to escape as long as I have the option to kick the Tories out. Kicking the Tories out is always a great option.

 

Coffee

There’s a reason all the coffee Quality Streets are left at the end. They are minging. Yet, blend it up and pour it in a cup and the world goes fucking loopy for it. I think I’ve attempted to drink the stuff twice in my life and it made me gag both times. Even the smell is kryptonite to me. And now you can’t walk into a bookshop or a WHsmith without it infesting everywhere because they all have a Star bloody Bucks attached. People get all elitist about the stuff. It’s a drink. It’ll end up as piss in the end. Get over it.

 

Announcements of announcements

Band on twitter: WE WILL BE MAKING A SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT TOMORROW!

Tomorrow at 11am: WE WILL BE TELLING YOU OUR BIG NEWS TOMORROW

Me:

This needs to stop. It won’t of course because the point is to hype fans up and I fall for it sometimes, much to my annoyance. It is social media’s equivilent of small talk. Announce the news or don’t. Ten words instead of fifty. We don’t go into a pub and say to our mates: “I’ve got news to tell you tomorrow, come back here at 3pm to find out”. They would rightly say “No, tell us now you idiot”.  On the off chance they did show up and you announced in your second announcement that the real announcement will be the next day, then you may be getting unwittingly intimate with a pint glass Think about it, that’s three announcements for one bit of news. Short of this band finding a cure for cancer anything else is going to be underwhelming.

 

People who walk out of a shop and stop right there in the doorway

They stop suddenly, as if being blocked by an invisible forcefield as they decide on the most ardous of decisions:  whether to go left, right or straight ahead. You can muti task I assume? You can probably cook and talk at the same time? Read and walk even? So you can walk and think too, yes? You seem to have got confused about what the principle of a doorway is?

See also: Lack of awareness of anything going on around you. People’s lack of spatial awareness in public is staggering, supermarket aisles especially. There’s no other word for it – it’s ignorance!

 

Winter

I think I must suffer from SAD. Make your own jokes. The weather is tough enough but the fact you go to work in the dark and leave in the dark is too much to bear.  What adds to the pit of seasonal misery is the days that seem to have been invented as a way of cheering us up through the gloom.

– Halloween: Happy Halloween? happy what exactly? Happy pretending to be scared about something day?

– Fireworks night:  Two weeks of fireworks and people going “ooooooooh”

– Christmas: The ultimate in winter hell. Three months of build up, hype and enforced jollity. I’m all for meeting up with friends and family to have a laugh but I don’t need for the birth of a fictional character to be the reason.

– New Year’s Eve:  More good tidings and repressed suicidal tendancies. I’m joking. Kind of.

– Valentines day -Like Halloween, America is to blame. I DON’T CARE! It’s all about St Skeletor’s Day. That’s where all the cool kids are at.

– Mothering Sunday: This is fine in itself, it’s just being without a mum is tough and to get well meaning messages on this day is not what I want. That sounds ungrateful but it’s just a generic day. In terms of my mum there’s Easter just around the corner which will be the anniversary of her death, then her birthday, then Christmas. There’s enough days already to feel the incredible pang of loss as it is.

Sure, June has Father’s day but no one cares about Father’s day. Not even dads. I’m being over miserable on this one for a bit of effect but I do find it all a real struggle.

 

Capitalism

It’s a biggy this. I have no answers. I wish I did. I want to fuck the man too. Not literally. Unless his name is Joseph Gordon-Levitt anyway. But I have rent and bills to pay. I am a victim of the system. We all are. Would it be better to live in a hut with no iplayer? I can’t live without iplayer so I guess I’m just gonna have to carry on sucking it up. *sigh*

 

Eastenders

The Corrie theme tune is enough to set me on edge but I’ve come to tolerate the programme if  it’s on in the background.  I can’t offer Eastenders the same indifference. The terrible acting, the painful writing and worse of all – the sodding shouting and screaming makes The Jeremy Kyle Show feel like an episode of Countryfile in comparison.  Isn’t life depressing enough to have to endure this horror show? Why would you choose to watch this four or five times a week?

The storylines are ridiculous and when they do touch on important  issues they are done with the finesse of a Rhino in a china shop. Yes, writers and actors need to start somewhere and it’s a good learning curve for lots of people who went on to greater things (not difficult admittedly). That is not enough reason to watch this macabre insult to intelligence. On a related note I do an awesome impression of Frank Butcher. Which is actually very similar to my impression of Roland Rat. Always got my finger on the popular culture button, me.

 

But before I jump off a building in an over dramatic, soap acting sort of way I will try and find the keys to get out of this hellhole of a room. It’s ok to have pet hates, just don’t let them consume you (THAT FECKING GTECH ADVERT THOUGH). Hard to believe there will even be some people who hate the use of gifs to express emotions. To those I say:

TV Review: The Aliens, Episode 1 (E4)

 

 

There may be no Sigourney Weaver but for an E4 production the cast is impressive all the same. This Is England alumni Michael Socha and the upcoming Michaela Coel, fresh from her own brilliantly funny creation Chewing Gum. Then there’s Horrible Histories and Peep Show regular Dominic Howick (tube up his nose, tube up his nose). Add to that, the head writer is Fintan Ryan of In The Flesh and you have a whole smorgasbord of killer potential.

The premise then, is this: It is forty years after aliens first arrived on Earth and they are now sectioned off in concentration camps. Here’s the catch – they look just like us, for not just storyline reasons but probably budgetary ones also. Lewis (Socha) is a border control officer who soon discovers he is half alien. This is worse than discovering your, say half Scottish because you won’t be locked up for that. Not these days anyway.

It’s disappointing that after all the adverts screamed “HILARITY” things don’t gel from the off. The comedy is off pace and the action disjointed. The editing is akin to a music video directed by someone with ADHD holding a camera in one hand and road drill in the other. It takes a long time to get into its stride. What we do see of this alternate world (when the camera stays still long enough) is an impressive contradictory mess of urban decay and bright radiant colours.

Strangest of all in this mish mash of an opener, is the crazier things get and the closer to the credits we go, the whole thing becomes more cohesive and events thankfully less wobbly. Due to some ill advised hair dealing (honest) from Lewis’sister he has to cross into Troy, an alien hellhole that humans have discarded and left to its own devices. Here morals are loose and anything goes. Which is nothing at all like Troy Town, a little village in Dorset. There are no aliens there, only horses and cows in fields and what’s the bettimg they don’t fight each other in drug addled clubs?

Despite being a somewhat disjointed opener there are moments that click. The Lewis and Dominic (Howick) partnership grew into a joyful pairing, though not joyful in quite the way the latter would like. They look set to shape up as a unique oddball of a collaboration. Why? Because one is clearly in love while the feeling is not reciprocated but mainly because both of them are absolutely useless in critical situations.  Lilyhot (Coel)  has lots of subtext going on. Does she have something behind her eyes as Lewis believes? Or will she just do anything to survive? Is her name even Lily? Is her surname Hot? That would be weird. Or an amazing coincidence.

The social commentary is almost as blatant as being bludgeoned by an issue of Public Eye. Immigration, racism and human cruelty are to the fore. Lewis’ disdain for the ‘Morks’ before he realises he’s half one and fancies a whole one is straight out of the “don’t judge a book by its cover” rulebook. Political and ethical leanings it may have but let’s not forget this is from the producers of Misfits so there’s some people shitting themselves and a bit of wanking too. Not at the same time you’ll be glad to know. 6/10

 

TALKING ALIEN:

– “I’m coming back for the Rabbit!”

– “If someone comes in the room and I’m getting a blow job off a Goat, their first reaction is not gonna be “is that a nanny goat or a billy goat you got there Lew?” I bet “why have you got your penis in a Goat’s mouth?” is gonna come up first”

 

BEYOND THE BORDER:

The aliens landed in 1990. If Shane Meadows had written this it might have been called This is Alien ’90.

The rather obviously named ‘Alien Test Kit’ does exactly what it says on the cardborad.  Did Lewis score exactly 50%?

This whole review didn’t mention Michael Socha’s eyebrows once…oh, wait.

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TV Review: Thirteen, Episode 2 (BBC3)

 

And so with a mixture of excitement and trepidation we return to the land of terraced houses full of mansion sized secrets. From baking cakes to detective based sexual chemistry, the first twenty five minutes has a strange aura that not much is happening, that the story has become static but in truth that’s all down to the subtle machinations at work. The motors are slowly revving into gear. All it takes is a little look here, a seemingly innocuous line there and  subconsciously what we thought to be true is turned on a six pence. The subtlety is at its most powerful with what it leaves to our imagination. All the power lies in what we don’t see. We are not granted any access into Ivy’s last thirteen years. It may be her story but we have only the family and detectives point of view.

The main thread running through this episode is Ivy’s, if not return to youth, but yearning to find the youth she never had. The scenes with Tim show she is just as smitten as her thirteen year old self was (running around fields, writing lovey dovey letters). Normally these scenes would be cute rays of light in other shows but we know all is not as she believes and it creates an uneasy edge to the sweetness. The world has moved on and while she is only just catching up with the concept of ipods, culture now thinks they’re old hat. She will always be playing catch up while also trying to live a past she never had. It’s a notion as conflicted as Ivy herself. Not only that but Tim is now married and this news shatters her hopes of a second chance of what Mark White stole from her.

Given the nature of the show, such a claustrophobic style echos its dark heart perfectly. It’s most captivating when Ivy agrees to help Carne and Merchant by returning to the house of the red door. It is the hope that any reinvigorated memories may hold some clues in the search for Phoebe.  From the pathway and into the living room she is riddled with fear yet she looked more at home in the cellar than in her family home.

The revelations come thick and fast in the closing stages. CCTV footage from 2013 arises of Ivy and Mark in a shopping centre where she not only leaves his side for a few minutes but actively seeks him out when she can’t find him, taking his hand when reunited. It is a complete contradiction to previous statements and it blurs the lines between the sympathy viewers wants to feel and suspicion of her motives. There’s a lot of curious motives going around truth be told. Mr headmaster man is clearly not innocent about something, especially given the constant paranoia of his secretary. Then we have Eloise who turned up in town wih something big to tell Ivy but is scared of doing so and Tim is in on the mystery too.

The pacing may be slow and brooding but once again Thirteen managed to fly by in a haze of suspense and intensity. THAT cliffhanger alone turns the previous sixty minutes on its head and looks set to take proceedings to a very unexpected place. Where are Mark White and Phoebe? Where is Ivy now? Where is a new list of superlatives because we’re fast running out already.  9/10

 

CASE NOTES:

– Cliche moment alert! – Detectives kissing each other passionately during big argument

– What does Mr headmaster man (registered trademark) hope to achieve (or hide) from his own one man investigation? Surely he had an affair with Christina? That’s got to be it, right?

– Were the paps tipped off by someone close to the Moxams?

– Who did Ivy want to call IF it wasn’t Tim? Is this significant? Probably not.

– It’s all very well telling her what an ipod does, Tim but at least explain the temperamental circle control bit too.

– Ivy declared “I’m not a child, I’ve had sex” to the horror of her mum. What with new developments are we to assume this was consensual?

– The opening credits are all very Marvel-like and marvellous aren’t they?

 

THEORIES:

– Towards the end of last week I was of the conclusion that Mark White might have set her free on purpose and now the implication by Merchant that he’s kidnapped a little girl for Ivy’s attention certainly fits in with that. Is it all part of his game?

– Looking at the public response a few days after I watched episode one I was surprised at how many people seemed to immediately question how genuine Ivy was as the credits rolled. Myself, I was going with the explanation that all the trauma she has experienced, mixed with trying to fit into a new life was responsible for the erratic behaviour. Despite the revelations of this week, I’m still holding aloft my sympathy card. Let’s not forget she would have been subjected to extreme forms of control, manipulation and.. God knows what. Add to that fear and confusion and you have a potent mix. Yes, she could have escaped from the shopping centre but it’s likely that he made her reliant on him, made life without him a scarier proposition than her cage. Why would she lie to the police? Denial? Because she doesn’t want him arrested? Possibly both. Does she love him? Almost certainly.

– Let’s put this one out there: What if Phoebe is Ivy’s child? What if she was given a new surname ? There it’s been said.