TV

Mummy Bear Gets Her Comeuppance

Yesterday, Top Gear windbag and racist Jeremy Clarkson was suspended from his job at the BBC over “a fracas” with a producer. Word is he punched his producer because he hadn’t been given lunch, or something. Which, of all the things to get cross and punch someone over, ranks about 80% on the Twatometer. But then, is anyone surprised? Didn’t we all see this egomaniacal, offensive-for-money bigot’s end looming on the horizon? An intelligent, news-reading decent human being would say “yes”. Apparently, we’re in the minority.

Disagreeing with us are 200,000 people – presumably fans of Clarkson, his show and/or his attitudes to women, minorities, homosexuals, the disabled and his own, paid subordinates. Yes, 200,000 people (let’s face it, probably mostly men) have signed a petition to have Jeremy “the horrific result of a failed experiment in teleportation by Nigel Farage and David Cameron” Clarkson reinstated as Top Gear host forgetting, as they did so, that the rest of this series has been canned following what is – and it is, it really is – the illegal assault of an colleague by an overpaid, powerful television personality.

It’s not like he won’t be on TV immediately anyway! Loose Women will have him on to coo over like a coven of right-wing great-aunt apologists for the teenaged son who beats his Mum and steals from her bank account, but is still – in their eyes – a good little boy and just so cheeky and funny! Or he will be given a show on CarsTVUK called “MotorPunch!” where he reviews cars in a cheaper way than he did on the BBC, but with assault-jokes tossed in like shit-grenades. Or perhaps he’ll be made David Cameron’s Environment Tzar should the slapped-thigh-faced Eton murderer convince enough pensioners he’ll facilitate their dying on sheets of the finest silk among heaps of £50 notes to win the election, like he didn’t last time (cheers Nick, you quisling fuck).

And poor old unemployable Jeremy Clarkson will then no doubt write a book called “A Punch Over A Panini – The Rise And Fall Of A BBC Flagship Captain” in which he’ll talk about himself for pages and pages, all the while somehow insulting every group of people except his own, boorish, thinly-veiled xenophobic, frightened dinosaur clan. The same clan, if you check, probably, that’s just signed a petition to keep him on BBC One (because the Neanderthals know what a “1” looks like on the remote and fear missing out on him should they need to count higher to see him).

He’s no stranger to controversy, ol’ Clarkson, oh no! He’s been “talked to” for his racism (he didn’t mean it), his homophobia (it was a JOKE, Sheesh!), his sexism (he didn’t understand what he’d said wrong) and for his provocation and taunting, via numberplate (creative), of an entire nation once crushed by British greed and influence, still recently enough ago to be a painful memory capable of stirring anger and retaliation from a people who didn’t ask for or want to face ridicule from the likes of Jeremy Fucking Clarkson during a publicly-funded television special, using licence fee money, entirely ‘by accidental coincidence’. He also champions the destructive power of gas-guzzling vehicles in the face of what he believes to be the “myth” of global warming and climate change, contrary to the findings and recommendations of countless environmental academics the world over. None of which, it seems, was enough to get rid of him for before.

It would appear that, at the BBC, far more than just attacking the weak, defenceless, innocent, downtrodden and correct, you have to attack your own to face reprimand. As evidenced by the recent and silent firing of certain members of staff involved in the criticism of the Corporation for its cover-up and shelving of a revealing documentary piece on the abusive habits, sexual and otherwise, of then-much-loved and then-soon-for-be-celebrated-on-air predatory alleged necrophiliac, but proven child-molester and rapist Jimmy Savile.

Jeremy Clarkson isn’t some champion of free-speech as he tries so hard to convince the morons that listen to him. He’s a loud-mouth. There are hundreds of thousands of men like him propping up Conservative Club Bars all over the country. The difference is YOU pay for Jeremy Clarkson’s pint. YOU pay for him to drive a caravan into a lake, to race expensive cars pasted with homophobic graffiti through culturally-sensitive lands. He’s laughing at you. He doesn’t care that he’s been suspended because he’s more powerful than people think. He’ll get work, of course he will! He’ll get more work now than ever! I hate Top Gear but I can understand why people like it. Just, please, don’t say it’s because this buffoon is “a legend”… He isn’t. He’s a prick.

Honestly. Fuck Jeremy Clarkson and fuck his Little England, Large Wanker ways. The sooner he fades into embarrassed obscurity, becoming a risible and repugnant figure of a shameful televisual past, the better.

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TV Greats – Broadchurch & Uncle

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The second series of ITV’s “Broadchurch” aired last night and I thought it was great. It managed to tie up all the loose ends of both of this series’ story lines neatly and news has already broken about an imminent third series. The Sandbrook murders were committed by all the people we suspected, not just one of them, and Joe was found not guilty of Danny Lattimer’s murder. I like how Broadchurch plays with the expectations of its audience. It’s not fantastic telly, but with an amazing cast and a reliably dramatic and emotional script you can’t really complain too much about the somewhat clichéd plot. All in all, I enjoyed series two more than I did series one and will definitely watch a third, even if it is a bloody miserable show.

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So now it’s time to counter the misery of Broadchurch with one of the best sitcoms I’ve ever seen – “Uncle” on BBC Three. Starring Nick Helm and Elliot Spencer-Gillott as an immature thirty-something uncle, Andy, and his awkward young nephew, Errol. The sitcom follows their unconventional friendship as they assist each other in their chaotic lives. Often sweary and uncomfortable, Uncle managed to be sweet and heartfelt without being the least bit twee or sentimental. With jokes every other second and superb performances across the board (Andy’s sister – Errol’s mum – Sam, played by Daisy Haggard, shines!) I am yet to find anything like it; Uncle is hilarious, engaging and so, so warm. I LOVE it. Series two is airing now. Catch up! You won’t regret it.

Beaten To It

Hey, creative types! Do you ever get that feeling, when watching a TV show or movie, or when reading a book, that you wish you’d wrote it? Did you ever enjoy something so much it made you jealous it wasn’t your idea? I get this all the time.

Recently I was watching a series on Netflix called “Darknet”, which is basically a grisly horror anthology, and one really unsavoury idea made me yell aloud “Damn! I wish I’d thought of that!” – and it was a really horrible idea! It’s probably better that I didn’t think of it; I’m sure that makes me the better person. But the idea was so… formed… that I felt a stab of envy.

Another thing I wish I’d written is a book called Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger, the author of The Time Traveller’s Wife. It’s about a pair of American twins who inherit a flat overlooking Highgate Cemetery, and all the odd characters that share the building. It’s basically a ghost story, but unlike anything I’ve ever read. It is wonderful. I wish I’d thought of it.

One idea I thought I had had first was the basis of a novel I got about a third of the way through writing. Then, when I told some friends about it, I was informed that there is a book (which I had never even heard of, let alone read) that has the exact plot, almost to the letter. I was gutted!

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Probably just because I’ve not written anything for a while and I suppose this fills a gap. It’s late, I’m wide awake and so why not? I don’t have anything else to say, though. So… Goodnight, I suppose.