Category: TV & Radio

There is Nothing Like a Dame

My time in Blighty is a captivating carousel of shopping and social engagements. I enjoyed a gorgeous gossipy lunch with Julia, an old work pal from way back. She’s the Chief Executive of the British Association of Occupational Therapists and at the pinnacle of her career. Naturally, she was nothing before she met me. She’s the only VIP I know, and I’m convinced that a damehood will be in the offing at the end of her tenure – for her of course. I’ve already got mine.

Liam is spending quality time with his folks. I pop by now and again to sup my father-in-law’s Jameson’s and catch up on Corrie with the mother-in-law.

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 We had a late liquid lunch followed by a reinstatement of Liam’s conjugal rights hurriedly withdrawn when I was branded a petty felon.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

You are the weakest link. Goodbye

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.

Strictly No Dancing

We channel-hopped on Digiturk and, by chance, came across the Turkish version of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ on the Show Channel. It’s called ‘Yok Böyle Dans’ which I think literally translates as ‘No Such Dance’. It’s a distant relative of the real thing but the theme tune is the same. It’s a lot of talking but not a lot of actual dancing, and goes on for five hours. I could roast a small chicken during the commercial breaks and not miss a thing. I lost the will to live. I’ll never criticise the licence fee again.