Anne Hegerty has left – by which I mean she was voted off – I’m a celebrity get me out of here. I’m glad I didn’t start watching the programme on the basis that Anne wouldn’t last long and surely I could invest a few hours watching.
She lasted and I wouldn’t have, even from the comfort of my own living room. I’m pleased Anne did so well, and hoped she’d go on to win. After all, who wants John Barrowman to be successful yet again?
(I won’t mention the other contestants, because I’ve not heard of them.)
Never having watched these celebrities compete, I have no idea what they actually do in the jungle. Possibly neither do real viewers. There’s no guarantee what you see is what happened.
I learned of Anne’s freedom on Facebook this morning, and felt both relieved and sad. A couple of weeks is a long time to go silent on social media.
Hoping to find out more, I Googled, but the stuff I found in the tabloid press made me blush. It also left me no better informed than when I started.
What makes me especially happy, is that Anne picked up new fans for doing so well among the creepy-crawlies, and that by setting a good example she has become a role model for others on the autism spectrum. For me that was an unexpected bonus of this spectacle, but if I’d stopped to consider it, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The jungle reaches further than The Chase.
On that basis I’m terribly grateful to Anne for suffering for the many, and showing the rest of the world what is possible.
Is Steven Moffat taking us for granted? I found myself watching the Christmas episode of Doctor Who with mounting surprise. ‘Is this it? Whatever happened to the idea of a special something for Christmas?’
The 50th anniversary episode a month earlier was so very, very good that I somehow imagined they knew what they were doing. Perhaps they used up every ounce of great ideas for that, and now there was none left. My loyal in-house Whovian pointed out there were some nice in-jokes. Maybe there were. Maybe the hardcore fans always get more out of an episode than the mere spectator. But even idiot viewers should be given some fun, while the experts chuckle over the cleverness of whatever they’ve come up with.
If I was Peter Capaldi I’d sue for getting such a crap entry to what should be a fantastic new job. If I was Matt Smith I’d sue for getting nowhere near the kind of exit David Tennant had. I was just sitting there willing it to be over. Die and let’s see this new Doctor and then we can all go and watch Downton Abbey.
I’m gladder than ever that I watched the 50th shebang in November. It made me pleased to ‘be part of it.’ (So for the sake of clarity; I had nothing to do with the Christmas failure. Not the 50th either, obviously, but, you know…)
My in-house fan then showed me the Peter Davison half hour programme about the other former Doctors who – supposedly – weren’t part of the 50th show. That was terrific! I could happily watch it again.
Thankfully Doctor Who won’t be back for a while. They will need time to write something we will want to watch.
Posted in Television
Tagged Colin Baker, David Tennant, Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, Jenna-Louise Coleman, John Barrowman, Matt Smith, Peter Capaldi, Peter Davison, Russell T Davies, Steven Moffat, Sylvester McCoy, Tom Baker
Would fish fingers and chips – bunged in the oven – have made a difference, I wonder? I’ve been informed this is how mothers coped with Saturday dinners in the olden days of Doctor Who. Because it’s astonishing quite how many episodes I never watched as the Doctor returned to the home screens eight years ago.
I think I plonked Offspring down in front of the box to watch, because it was what you did. Generations of British children watched the Doctor and the Daleks from behind their sofas. I don’t think I really expected to watch. I had no proper upbringing that led me to want to do it. So I probably watched a couple of episodes to keep people company. And I caught glimpses of the Tardis and stuff as I dashed in and out of the room.
I have long been under the impression that I watched every other episode of season one. Now I know better. I didn’t. Not by a long shot. I ‘met’ Captain Jack Harkness only by hearing him talk soothingly to Rose, as she sailed across the London sky. I have a lot of weird, half-fake memories. Sat through the ‘are you my mummy’ episodes to keep Daughter calm. But they were creepy.
In fact, I didn’t care that Christopher Eccleston stopped Doctoring, because I simply didn’t know the man well enough to miss him. And he was followed by the lovely David Tennant, so was easily forgotten by me.
Luckily the lapses of yesteryear have been rectified. I have just watched every single episode of season one, up to and including the Christmas one where David Tennant mostly slept on the job. They were pretty good, on the whole. And I’m beginning to see why some fans moan these days. They really did write them better before. They just did.
Never mind who was the Doctor. It’s who wrote the script that matters.
Have a Barrowman Christmas!
Happy 45th birthday to John Barrowman!
Hardly surprising John is like he is with such crazily fantastic parents. Good thing they gave up on the idea of throwing him out for being a noisy baby. (Although he is still pretty noisy at 45.)
(Photo Helen Giles)
In my infinite generosity I have decided to share last week’s book interview with John and Carole Barrowman with my CultureWitch readers on the grounds of John generally being a culture kind of celebrity. He sings and he acts, but he certainly doesn’t write books.
I know, it’s confusing isn’t it? He gets his sister Carole to write books for him. This time it’s Hollow Earth, which is a children’s adventure novel, and that is why I went to Glasgow a week ago to speak to them.
They are crazy, and very nice. The interview is a little crazy too. It sort of rubbed off.
By very strange coincidence I appear to have processed another television hero in the book business. My photographer and I travelled to Glasgow on Monday to witness the book signing for Hollow Earth, the new children’s book by Carole Barrowman and her baby brother John.
I thought it’d be a profound sort of thing to interview John and Carole on their old home ground in Glasgow, although I quite forgot to ask them to switch to a Scottish accent. But we had a great deal of fun anyway, and I’m sure they’ve never encountered the concept of acting their age.
There is no doubt about John’s popularity. As the two of them walked down the stairs at Waterstones in Argyle Street they were greeted like like superstars by the fans, many of whom had queued for four hours.
This is the sort of thing I like best; blogging merrily away when I’ve not had to do a thing. (Other than wait up by the phone to hear that Daughter returned ‘home’ safely after gallivanting all over Scotland for John Barrowman’s concerts.)
This year was hard. Not as bad as when I delayed buying tickets and we ended up not going, but when the tickets went on sale in the spring she had no idea where she’d be once the concert dates came round. So with a shortlist of favoured university and insurance university, she bought more than one ticket.
And just to be safe (hah!) she bought tickets for both the Scottish venues. Luckily it was the Scottish ones she could use. Trouble is the country is larger than it looks and fitting in travelling between lectures and things was no easy feat. But she did it, and I can now blog off her efforts.
The fact that she’s been asleep in today’s lectures (only joking!) doesn’t matter. Apparently the Scottish concerts are the best, because John allows himself to be Scottish, rather than American. And in Glasgow last night the audience linked arms and joined him in the singing, making him cry. Fitting end to a tour finishing in John’s home town.
And what could be nicer than the sun rising over the Forth railway bridge on a sunny November morning?
Was it going to be the end of Torchwood? It was hard to decide until very close to the end of the last Miracle Day episode last night. Some people died. Others didn’t. And I did suspect that one of the ‘surprises’ in the last minutes was about to happen.
It’s been fun, and quite exciting, but it’s not been Torchwood as we know it. It was just that little bit (!) too American, but I guess that was unavoidable. It was only ever Gwen and her family and her devoted former colleague who carried the Welsh side of the affair.
There was some unpleasant government behaviour, but I suppose not even Russell T Davies could have predicted how close to our present reality it would end up being. Not all episodes were written by the same people, and it shows. Some are a lot better than others.
The mole is suitably sinister in her trusted role, but most of the other baddies aren’t terribly bad. That was left to the politicians, who are real pros. I can’t help wondering if they sailed too close to WWII for some viewers. And what is it with gay sex scenes, now that their entertainment value has been ‘discovered’ and apparently cleared with the guardians of all that’s decent? I don’t mind, but it seems somewhat one-sided.
We can have more Torchwood. The question is, will we?
Posted in Television
Tagged Alexa Havins, Arlene Tur, Bill Pullman, Eve Myles, John Barrowman, Kai Owen, Lauren Ambrose, Marina Benedict, Mekhi Phifer, Russell T Davies, Tom Price, Torchwood
He had to pay for the bridge. They’re funny – those Americans – whether the CIA or any other part of the alphabet. The agent who should be dead, but is instead driving across the Severn Bridge to a seemingly separate Wales. And Captain Jack Harkness who should be anything but ‘dead,’ is not feeling so great.
Although, Jack sounds much more British, now that he’s in the company of real Americans. Strange that they are letting Gwen and Rhys get away with being so very Welsh in what is now a fun and exciting, but very American, television show.
We liked it, but it’s not Torchwood as we know it, more Men in Black with some Holby City thrown in.
All over the world people are not dying. That’s not as good as it sounds. But whether it calls for the CIA is a different matter. And the amusing gags work because they are poking fun at the differences between the two countries involved. I hope Wales will win, but suspect it won’t be allowed to.
Gwen and Rhys have done a good job of disappearing along with Torchwood, and an even better job of stashing their cupboards full of weapons for when the ramblers come calling. She should have shot them. Then Gwen wouldn’t be running around with baby in one hand and gun in the other. Cute baby, and far too amenable to this secret agent existence.
But you know how you should be careful what you wish for? Well, maybe Jack is finding out that immortality wasn’t so bad after all.
And how reassuring to find ourselves on the wrong side of the Atlantic yet again. It’s only natural that the US should get to watch anything at all before us poor cousins in the UK.