Bacteria!

Well, thank the lord, at long last there’s a new Yakult advert. Perhaps the third in the trilogy, though hopefully the series will run and run. Lovely Mel from Family Affairs (who went on the record during the summer stating that she will never do an advert again) has now ventured into Bacteria Man’s flat, along with a similarly aloof but good-hearted pal. The flat is of course decorated in retro-seventies green, and Mr Bacteria has his usual geek haircut and tanktop to extenuate the fact that despite his evident geekiness, he’s also quite trendy in an unknowing way. Bizarrely, his flatmate is stood in the lounge in his just a pair of Y-fronts, much to Mel and Kim’s (as we shall from this moment call her) alarm - though to be fair he carries this off nicely. Finally, a third guy turns up (I forget the name), who is also big into bacteria-based drinks, and despite his Swampy-goes-to-H&M appearance, the girls swoon. Which leaves me worrying for Bacteria Man - when will Mel see that they are meant to be together? Will her social climbing snobbery prevent her from realised he is the only probiotic-drink swiller for her? Let’s all hope that the next advert feature some sort of bacteria-friendly engagement or marriage. Though we must not forget the last time Mel got married, a gas leak resulted in her and her entire family perishing…

More Midsommer Madness

What has happened to the body count in Midsommer Murders? Driven to watching the curious half-panto-half-whodunit series on Christmas Day (it was either that or Dibley, which even my parent’s described as awful), I was disappointed that only two characters were murdered. And the killer was that much of a surprise. In olden days, Midsommer Murders contained the twistiest plots, the most bizarre deaths, the craziest casting, and plenty of rumpy-pumpy to keep even the most casual viewer entertained. It also knew how to be scary when necessary. Thus, the Xmas extravaganza was disappointing, with it’s promise of magician’s assistants, fake suicides and good-looking youths romping away cruelly broken to tell a bog-standard revenge story. And the comedy sub-plot involving John Nettles sparring with his father-in-law ( as played by Brookie’s David ‘Bing’ Crosby) was just as trite. Must try harder. But on the upside, I’m beginning to warm to the new sidekick..

The Wizards of Oz

The penultimate series of the brilliantly gruesome prison drama Oz made a shock, unheralded appearance in Channel 4’s Christmas schedules. The show that confirms my worst fears about mankind is perfect festive viewing, as it illustrates that when needs must, all feelings of generosity, mutual trust and understanding fly out the window, it’s every man for himself. Can this series top the last its stand-out showpieces of pure evilness? The long-time-coming battle to the death between Abedisi and Said was amazing, and the outcome unexpected, while the wonderfully mean sudden release of poor Beecher (which turned out to be the cruelest dream sequence in any TV programme… ever!) just proved Oz will never take the soft option. And as for the much-anticipated, full-frontal appearance of Luke Perry, well not even the other genitalia on display could top that - nope, not even you Chris Meloni. So, what can we expect from this lastest series? We just don’t know, as C4 aren’t releasing specific information. In fact, I’m even sure that it is the penultimate series they’re showing - but not even Channel 4 could be rotten enough to miss out an entire series of one of the best US imports they own… Oh wait minute, yes they could.

Top TV Treats... Not

So what were the top TV treats of 2004? Well, according to the Channel 4 show with a similar title, they were all Channel 4 shows. Almost. There were no C4 moments, but they just passed without commentary, unlike pain-stakingly unfunny, and not recalled by any of my TV-obsessed cronies, bits from Richard and Judy or other naff lifestyle or "comedy" programmes. Curiously, the best moments consisted of the last episodes of Friends, Frasier and Sex and the City - though surely these must have been the worst as it chimed the death-knell for the majority of 4’s schedule-padding import fodder. Big Brother was number two - though the massive scrap which ensnared disillusioned BB viewers was bizarrely not mentioned. Then we had Gillian McKeith, some swearing posh people, Shattered (which was watched by no one), Supernanny, Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares, Max and Paddy, Borat (Ali G’s even less funny counterpart)… Need I go on? Suffice to say, that very few of my TV treats got a look in - here’s hoping Five make a better stab of it sometime soon.

Comedy Awards Rant

I normally sit own to watch the British Comedy Awards with a sense of glee, knowing that it will be the only gong show of the year to revel in the same orgy of spite, bitterness and hatred that I lead my life. So this year’s was a bitter disappointment. True, there were some totally deserved awards - Little Britain, Nighty Night and Catherine Tate all picked up some glassware, hopefully meaning the latter two will eventually receive the critical and public acclaim they deserve - but some of the winners defied expectation - smug ITV dramadies Doc Martin and Life Begins for instance. Then again, the voting panel probably consists of Richard Curtis cronies who like this sort of dross. But the most embarrassing sections of the show were the parts which crow-barred in awards for shows and people who just don’t deserve it. Best writing team - Ricky Gervais and Steven Marchant? They’re so good they barely managed to fill two hours of air-time last year, and only then by producing a toe-curlingly derivative Christmas spesh of the once mighty Office. And then there was the trumped-up award for Matt Groening, simply because he happened to be in the country. Presented with the award, inexplicably, by Stephen Hawking, Groening seemed as embarrassed as the viewing public at the standing ovation he received. He knows as much as anyone that the Simpsons ran out of ideas and jokes a good series back. In fact, Groening’s last few gags were all used up in the final series of Futurama, which was killed off in good health and will live on in our memories of never having a bad episode. Or indeed series, like the Simpsons recently has. It’s just odd that for a year filled with so much good comedy - Little Britain, Nighty Night, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, Catterick, I am Not an Animal, even Corrie, etc, etc - that so little of it was credited at the shindig and the show itself was a horribly bland affair. Note to Johnny Vegas - please present next year. Or, if wet, get Barrymore back…

Brighton Rocked

With BBC1 drowning in identikit medical and dreary period dramas, it’s been great that they’ve actually made a series which reminds you why the license fee is occasionally a good thing. The whole singing thing was initially off-putting, but the fantastic characterisation and acting made the series compelling and by episode two, you’d didn’t even blink when the cast burst into spontaneous song. Billed as a musical murder mystery, Blackpool was nothing of the sort. Sure, there was a murder – but no one really cared who did. In fact, no one really cared who it was who’d actually been killed. And the music was only really there as a gimmick, albeit one brilliantly done. No, Blackpool was really about a family in crisis. As maverick businessman dad Ripley was headed towards bankruptcy, his marriage collapsed and the distance between him and his kids widened. Wife Natalie fell into the arms of the detective investigating the murder, daughter Shyanne wed Ripley’s childhood enemy Steve, and son David trawled the resort clobbering men with bricks, or alternatively, shagging them. The fact that there was such a feel-good ending, complete with Communard-tuned wedding, is a credit to the writing, while the central cast were superb. Sarah Parrish is surely the best actress on television at the moment; she has a talent for making your heart break as hers does. It’s just a shame that there was nothing really left open for a second series…

Controversial Corrie Continues

Coronation Street has been nothing but excellent of late. The drama of mad Maya, Karen’s baby plight, and the Todd/Sarah breakdown, combined with the best comedy on telly, has earned the show a well-deserved South Bank Show nomination, amongst many of the TV awards picked up this year. But the producers seem determined not to rest on their laurels, and if rumours are true, 2005 looks set to see Corrie treading more controversial ground. Jason’s in for a shock when girlfriend Violet announces the reason she’s so reluctant to take him to bed is that she is HIV positive. Imagine how the Rovers’ regulars will react to learning their latest barmaid has such an un-Corrie-like ailment? More alarming is the fate of the Harris family – will Katy really knife her dad to death after an attack on Martin? If anyone needs to go, it’s deadwood Martin, and it’ll be a shame to lose Katy as her mad barnet has kept us amused over the past couple of years… Still, it’s great that Corrie is ready to beat EastEnders lame attempts at a revamp. There really is no need for a Kat/Mo/Alfie love triangle, now, is there?

Losing Their Marples

ITV1’s reworking of Miss Marple was disappointingly poor. Playing up the comedy seems like a good idea in this post-Midsommer Murders world, but what was great about the old Joan Hickson series was the dark, sinister edge that was simply missing here. Instead, Marple (now played by Gerladine McEwan) is a batty old woman, who somehow manages to solve crimes, despite being unable to work out what jumper really should be worn with which skirt. This week, she didn’t really even do much sleuthing, allowing the A-list cast to do all of their trademark routines before declaring who the killers were. Look, there’s Ben Miller playing a pompous rogue. And there! It’s David Walliams as a comedy loner. Oh, and there’s Ian Richardson as an austere patriarch whose legs were blown off seven years ago. And who’s that? Yep, it’s Jamie Theakston playing a large lump of wood. To make matters worse, the conclusion was rewritten (allegedly to provide a similar shock to that original readers would have had on the revelation of the motive), to comprise a couple of unconvincing lesbians. Poor show, indeed, though the gimmicky casting will probably lure us to tuning in again on Sunday…

Having finally been granted a day release from work, I decided to spend my free time as best I could – lying in bed, watching Sunset Beach. As someone who only came in as the whole Terror Island plot was kicking off, I was a mite confused by all this business with Elaine finding her dead kid’s coffin exhumed and the realisation that Del in Hell was behind faking Cole’s death. But one thing was confirmed, and that was sheer aceness of some of the cast – basically, those actors who knew the plots were barmy, and that the dialogue was filled with pointless exposition, but decided to ham it up and really enjoy themselves anyway. Obviously, soapy stalwarts Kathleen Noone and Leslie-Anne Downe stand out, but some of the younger cast also get it. Sarah Buxton as wicked vixen Annie is knowingly hilarious, while Clive Robinson – aka Ben/Derek – also plays along, laughing with the audience, not at us for enjoying this tosh. And as soon as the Terror Island madness kicks off, I’ll be videoing every moment til Ben’s final battle with evil twin Derek, and Gregory’s cruel torturing as wives Olivia and Annie – even from beyond the grave in the guise of Uncle Tobias. Never has a false nose been put to better use…

It’s always been to true to say that Neighbours is often quite gay. But now that label can be attached to the show in a non-derogatory sense – which is good, as Susan Smith (formerly Kennedy), is not best pleased when the word is used unkindly. Not only is Connor dating another bloke (most likely Lou, who after his recent stint in the clink may have discovered the love that dare not speak it’s name) on the internet, but Erinsbrough High now has its own resident lesbian. It was perhaps inevitable that Lana was gay – not only does she love fantasy TV and cool music, but she speaks with a bizarre, trans-Atlantic twang that defies explanation. After launching herself at Sky – whose bra-burning ways made her the ideal candidate – her secret is out, and comedy ADD-suffered Scott/Stingray delicately broached the subject by writing Lana’s a Lezzer on the blackboard. Natually, Lana won’t stay around – a regular gay being even scarier than a regular ethnic minority for Aussie viewers – but at least we have the Hoyland’s being targeted by a Molotov-cocktail-wielding fly-poster, Izzy being stalked by Darcy as her wedding approaches, an increasingly evil Paul Robinson returning and Lassiters being razed to the ground in a bad-taste, Bali-eqsue bomb plot to look forward to over the next couple of months.

Tonight with Trevor McDonald attempted a brilliant hatchet job on TV dietician – and rival popular current affairs host – Gillian McKeith last night. In an edition reminiscent of the bad press treatment of Homer in The Simpsons episode Homer Bad Man, Trev used a selection of unflattering archive footage and take-out-of-context quotes to portray Gill as a fake fad diet doctor with little knowledge of her subject. Admittedly, dead-eyed McKeith is cashing in on the current craze of obsessive healthy eating, but ITV1’s desperate attempt to discredit Channel 4’s stranglehold on the eight ‘til nine lifestyle slot ratings was plain embarrassing. So what if she isn’t a medical doctor, if you’ve spent god knows how long studying for a PhD, then you’ve every right to call yourself a doctor. And just because she’s making a fortune, doesn’t mean she isn’t teaching the obese, chip-eating masses a few good lessons. No one is actually going to follow her diet and eat nothing but bizarre beans and wheat grass for every meal. The only good thing about Trevor’s latest bout of scare-mongering was a rare TV appearance of Gillian’s arhc nemesis - and Guardian hottie - Dr Ben Goldacre, here happily debunking McKeith’s alleged ability to feel internal organs while poncing around in a lab coat. And that was definitely worth half an hour of our increasingly hard-earned free time.

Elsewhere, Corrie’s Les was also facing dietary dilemmas when his bid to win £25 by finding a halfpenny in Roy’s Christmas pudding resulted in him consuming 15 portions of the brandy-soaked stuff. Thankfully it all went awry – with Cilla getting a cleavage full of pudding and Les confined to the toilet after a fight with Betty – but it provided a welcome respite to Charlie’s continual bullying of Shelley. Please, Shelley, turf him out, but congratulations to Corrie writers for convincingly making the once feisty landlady slowly lose all her confidence. And it gets worse after Christmas…