TV Times

I did nothing when I got home yesterday except shoot people on Modern Warfare, see Layla and catch up on telly such as Doctor Who. I felt this was deserved after my marathon train journey that started with a man at Glasgow Central telling me I had to go to Queen Street for my train, only for a man at Queen Street telling me I had to go back to Glasgow Central as they only run from there. I mustered up enough energy to make a small whiney noise, like you might get if you trod on a dog’s paw, before failing entirely to complain and just bought another ticket for half my life’s savings. It was only £11.80, but I am very broke. When I finally got to Edinburgh Waverley and boarded my train to London (from which yesterday’s blog twas writ) I had to sit next to an old lady who had boarded at Kilkardy (I saw on her reserve ticket) and did not move from her seat once until we got to Kings Cross. Thats five hours of journeying without moving to go to the loo, to get a drink or even to stretch her legs. After two hours of this I started to be concerned she might have died. Her eyes were moving a bit, but I put that down to muscle spasms. Just as I was about to call someone, her phone rang and she answered it. She then shouted down the phone in the strongest, most deep old lady Glaswegian accent I’ve ever heard, before hanging up, hurridly putting the phone back in her pocket and not moving again for another two hours. I can only put this down to a few things. Either she is some sort of secret soldier type old lady who has camel like abilities to hold water and survive in any terrain without sustenance, or she was possessed by a demon that had no idea how old ladies were meant to speak and act. Either way I was a tad scared so I didn’t ask her to use the plug for my laptop by her and spent the last hour of the journey staring into space.

When I got home I did pretty much nothing and so this blog will now convert into some small cheating bullet points about stuff from the telly and the few thoughts I had vacantly smacking around my tired head:

– Doctor Who ‘The Waters of Mars’ was not as good as I’d hoped it would be. I iplayered it yesterday expecting some sort of zombie type craziness and instead just got very angry at a shit robot, some terrible dialogue, knowing that Catherine Tate and her stupid gormless face will be in the next one, and the fact that explosions wouldn’t be that big on the planet’s surface due to its very thin atmosphere. Maybe I’m wrong on that one as I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty sure I’m right. Don’t get me wrong, there were some good bits to it, but again I found myself wanting the sort of Doctor Who episode that made me hide behind my sofa with fear. It’d would have to be very scary though as my sofa is against the wall, so I’d have to do some furniture moving for such things to happen. I’m no Doctor Who geek, unlike Michael Legge, but I will always remember the one with Sylvester McCoy in it that had some sort of weird circus where people died. That terrified me for ages and ages and pretty much put an end to any ideas I may have had about being a trapeze artist. I didn’t have any of those ideas to being with, but that just made sure I never would. I put that episode up there with some weird ITV children’s ghost story where there was boy who had a mirror that did its own thing and when he smashed it out of frustration, he became trapped inside and the weird mirror boy got to take his place in the real world. Except he had big glass eyes and no one could see. I didn’t look in the mirror for ages after that. Hence why my hair always looks a mess in photos from 1989 – 1992. And all current photos. And in fact pretty much all my photos ever. Thats my excuse anyway. There was also another episode of that where a soldier got shot in the war and somehow his ghost switched places with a healthy soldier who was left in a broken body on the side of a mountain. I haven’t explained that well so just imagine scary things and that was it. I really hope the Matt Smith Doctor does and deals with scary things. Maybe there should be one episode where he gets his bank statement and they’ve charged him for things he hasn’t used his card for but has no way of proving that he was in 1519 at the time.

– How good is Life? Yeah pretty bloody good. We used to have a game at uni whereby we’d drink tea, eat things, smoke some er jazz cigarettes and then shout at all the fights between animals on Life of Mammals and latterly, post uni, Planet Earth. There is nothing like watching animals kick the shit out of each other while David Attenborough calmly tells you why they are doing it. One day I’d love him just to snap and suddenly say something like ‘yeah fucking take that Oryx! You had it coming! Punch him lion fucking punch him!’ Sadly I can’t get away with getting quite so hyper about it when at home with Layla. There was a bit last night where loads of bees were seriously taking each other down in some sort of sting based Battle Royale. I held it in, but nearly spilt my squash when one of them got decapitated. It may seem macabre, but its nature so if you criticise it you must be a creationist and therefore, an idiot. I didn’t like the fact that most of last night’s show was about insects. At least however a show like that knows what insects are whereas the Metro yesterday had a picture of Sam ‘Fox eats insects’. She was eating spiders. Spiders are not insects you fools. They are spawns of the devil.

– I didn’t watch ‘I’m lowest on the rung of Celebrities so have to take part in degrading activities so I can be allowed back on This Morning’. However I did get some support on Twitter for my idea that next year we take 12 Aussie celebs and put them on the Yorkshire Moors for a week. It’d be more cost effective and there would just be lots of complaining about the weather, making baked beans on a gaslight that doesn’t work and working out how not to get mud into the tents. Complaints about this online were the worry that we wouldn’t be able to find 12 Aussie celebs – I say easily. I mean its not like they’ve found UK celebs, more demented over made up rich losers – and that it shouldn’t be the Moors, more the Arctic Tundra. I agree with that except if its the Arctic, it should just be shit UK celebs and they shouldn’t be given supplies or clothes. Then there also wouldn’t be cameras and we wouldn’t watch it. We’d just let them die. This would then be followed up by ‘I’m a low rate dick, get me out of this spaceship that’s flying directly into the sun’.

– My 3D glasses did not work for the Channel 4 magic show last night. They are ones Layla stole from the cinema after watching Up. Apparently its because my glasses are polarized which is why I might only be able to see lots of snow, penguins and polar bears. I once had a pair of bipolarized glasses. They only worked when they wanted to, depending on their mood.

– I watched some of the Spaced repeats on Dave. I bloody love Spaced. Its still one of the best sitcoms ever as far as I’m concerned and if you haven’t seen it, your life is empty. That is all.

If that wasn’t enough blog for you, I highly recommend reading Tara Flynn’s awesome blog here:

Its brilliant and I suggest you read it lots.