Category: BBC

Huddled Masses

We watched the drama unfold in Egypt on BBC World. The dictator was finally toppled by the “…huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” to misquote the inscription on a bronze plaque mounted inside of the Statue of Liberty. History demonstrates that authoritarian regimes, whether left, right or theocratic that rule by fear eventually collapse under the weight of their own oppression. Egypt, the most ancient of nations, has no experience of democracy and I sincerely hope that the experiment will be real and lasting. Let’s wish for a pluralist, secular state that respects individual rights and not for a ‘one man, one vote, once’ process that might cast Egypt back to the Middle Ages and would make the Middle East an infinitely more dangerous place. That would be scary for everyone and Egyptians deserve better.

I also sense my foster land may be sliding imperceptibly backwards. The first sign of compulsory head-scarfs will see us booking the first available Easyjet flight back to flawed but free Blighty.

“Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Lord Acton (1834-1902)

Much Ado About Nothing

My nightly tribulations anticipating a cross knock at the door by a scandalised conscript in latex gloves conducting an internal investigation has mercifully abated. All the fuss started when a distressed Digiturk obtained a court order to shut down a couple of insignificant blogs illegally broadcasting highlights from the Turkish Süper Lig. In response, the inscrutable authorities banned hundreds of thousands of websites that share the same Google ‘address’ as the obsessive soccer bores with their wobbly handicams. Imagine the sheer farce of Calvin Klein forcing every market across the land to close because a few stalls flog phony CK knickers.

Yesterday I was off blog in a vain attempt to forget the whole sorry story and return to a near normal life of degenerate leisure. We had a late liquid lunch followed by a reinstatement of Liam’s conjugal rights hurriedly withdrawn when I was branded a petty felon. We topped off our perfect day with an evening of ‘Strictly’ courtesy of the BBC iPlayer. It was delectable to behold that unreconstructed old bigot and professional virgin with two left feet, Miss Widdecombe, finally expelled from the show. National institution? She should be in one.

I retired to my pit pissed and paranoid thinking our phone might be tapped.

Auntie’s Bloomers

We amused ourselves with a night of catch up TV by plugging the laptop into the box. It is hugely preferable to BBC Entertainment, a misnomer if ever there was one. The whole channel broadcast an endless nightly loop of old shows indispersed by obscure BBC3 flops. I like a little bit of The Weakest Link now again but not the same episode recycled a dozen times and Robin Hood is a real repeat treat. I’m overdosing on so many cutting edge medical dramas I need my stomach pumped.  I know I can just watch the other side but Auntie, like chocolate, is an essential comfort. Besides, I’m waiting to see the name of an old friend roll by on the closing credits of Holby Shitty when he served his time as series editor. Since we’ve just reached the episodes originally broadcast just after The Six Day War, I’m not counting my goats.

Clement watches Sky but needs a satellite dish the size of Jodrell Bank to receive it. The service is so unreliable he’s constantly getting a little man in to fiddle with his aerial. Still, it keeps a smile on his face.

Clever Bitch

In a half-hearted attempt to integrate into the overwintering emigrey community we popped along to a local restaurant for a quiz night. We’re good at quizzes or so we thought. It was like a Derby and Joan Club with a sorry collection of depressed looking people in BHS knitwear. We stuck out like black people at a Ku Klux Klan convention. We sat next to George and Phyllis from Birmingham. We engaged in the usual exploratory conversation. We overheard George whisper to Phyllis “Look, they’re even wearing wedding rings”.

It seems that Phyllis and George have somewhat mislaid their family. They found out about their daughter’s wedding and pregnancy on Facebook. The are pooch people and their clever bitch can tell the difference between a Turk and Kurd because they smell different. Oh dear.

We came last in the quiz. Phyllis helpfully explained that many of the questions originated from BBC World so we should keep watching for next time. There won’t be a next time. As one of the answers was ‘cruet set’ I asked Phyllis when was the last time she heard cruet set mentioned on the BBC. That shut her up.

It’ll Never Last

What’s with the blanket coverage of Prince William’s engagement on BBC World? Of course I wish them well but it’s hardly a world transforming event. And, I do hope the lovely Kate knows what she’s signing up to. The dull and emotionally stilted Windsors don’t exactly have an admirable track record of matrimonial harmony or dealing sympathetically with eating disorders. The ‘Firm’ will spit her out if she doesn’t make the grade which is to put up and shut up. Don’t do it, Kate. Marry a fat cat lawyer and move to Chelsea.