Tag Archives: Scott Maslen

The British Soap Awards: Coronation Street sweeps the boards

THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS SPOILERS. THE BRITISH SOAP AWARDS AREN’T SHOWN UNTIL WEDNESDAY. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE RESULTS, DON’T READ THIS ARTICLE!

It’s the night that recognises those shows which have been a constant on our screens for up to half a century; a chance for the casts of the soaps to mingle and show that there really is no rivalry (unless their name is Danny Miller, of course!), an opportunity to relive all of those precious and heartwarming moments we’ve seen with our families such as swapping dead babies, seeing a tram slaughter half a community or a fire subtly wipe out two long running residents and also a time for the teenage fans of Hollyoaks and EastEnders to set up multiple accounts in order to ensure the fittest star of their chosen show gets the recognition their pecs deserve.

A total of 17 gongs were handed out to celebrate the over-the-top carnage tearing apart fictional communities and it was a successful night for both EastEnders and Coronation Street in particular. Hollyoaks also fared well thanks to the one man saviour that is Emmet J Scanlan and Emmerdale didn’t go away empty handed either after a mostly gripping year. Even the cast of Doctors, bless them, turned up for a night out and to fill the extra seats that the caretaker on work experience accidentally left out.

So where did the prizes go? The night arguably belonged to Coronation Street which took away an impressive 9 prizes for its dramatic fiftieth year. But, despite taking away over half of the available prizes, Coronation Street was beaten to the main gong by BBC flagship soap, EastEnders, which was crowned Best Soap.      Continue reading

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Strictly Week 9 Results – Ding, Dong, The Wid’s Not Dead!

Firstly, confession time – I HATE the results show (so much so I’ve lapsed into capitals AGANE). However, as promised, here it is. And to be fair, the whole experience wasn’t as intolerable as I thought it would be.

Firstly, hooray for the showdance! Purpley, whirly, jivey, chairy, close up on Brendan Coley (well, you can’t have it all). Quite long but the audience went nuts at the end so who am I to quibble?

Then we had some very interesting judges chat. Worth it simply for the spectacle of Bruno attempting to demonstrate the Argentine Tango with Craig, who looked far less alarmed than he should have done, frankly. The judges took the proverbial out of Gavin with various unflattering impressions. I managed to have sympathy for Gavin for the whole 5 seconds before he opened his mouth and revealed himself to be a vain, self-aggrandising bore again. Sigh.

Bye bye Patsy, Patsy bye bye...

Results stage one revealed that the general public (yeah, those animals) had saved Matt and Aliona (I don’t particularly like him but fair enough, he is good), Pamela and James (SQUEAL!) and Ann and Anton (I’m sure my flat screen telly will recover from this news one day). In the drop zone were Patsy and Robin. Bye bye, flat screen telly, the times we shared together were good ones.

I would comment on the lovely showdance James and Ola did at this point, but the sight of Ann Widdecombe dressed up as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz to trail next week’s “Movie Week” afterwards pretty much rendered everything else insignificant. As a friend of mine put it via text message, “honestly, it’s like the BBC are begging the gay rights lobby to send them letter bombs”.

Results stage two revealed that the general public (to whom I am resolutely not speaking from now on) had finally struggled to their senses and saved Kara and Artem and Scott and Natalie. People who can actually dance. I know, how novel! Leaving Gavin and Katya to sit through the sub-Snow Patrol drivel of James Blunt before learning that…. PATSY = GONE!

To be fair, me liking any woman on Strictly is enough to put the mockers on her – so long Carol Smillie, tata Letitia Dean, au revoir Zoe Ball. But still, Patsy was amazingly gracious considering and even thanked the make-up staff. The judges shook their heads, the Strictly band managed not to murder Crying by Roy Orbison and we were told once again to KEEEEEEEP DANCING!

Which is more than Ann Widdecombe can seem to be bothered to manage. Gragh.

For previous Strictly blogs, click here

Typed in a trashed front room by a particularly grumpy Velocity Girl

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Strictly – The Good, The Bad and The Widdy

It’s time for Strictly Come Dancing, Week 9! DA-da-da-da-DA-da-DA-DA! Etc!

Last week took place in BLACKPOOL. Though you would hardly know that it took place in BLACKPOOL, as hardly anybody mentioned BLACKPOOL at all. Within seven seconds we learned that this week wasn’t taking place in BLACKPOOL, even though last week did take place in BLACKPOOL. The rest of this week’s non-BLACKPOOL based programme was presumably accompanied by the gentle weeping of the Lancashire and Blackpool (or should that be BLACKPOOL) Tourist Board.

This week’s BLACKPOOL equivalent was the fact that there are only 7 contestants left in the competition. Why, that makes them the Magnificent Seven! Do you see, DO YOU SEE? 75 minutes of Stetsons, bargain basement gunshot graphics and witless cowboy impressions later, anybody not wailing into the carpet in existentialist despair probably did just about pick up on this (life’s a riot at VG Towers, you can be sure of that).

Pamela Stephenson - this week's Top of the Trots (sorry)

Kara and Artem’s VT begins in a hail of icepacks (that’s enough cold weather puns now – Ed.). Fortunately, the magic of live television soon fixes Artem’s shoulder and their Jive is a lot of fun. Sure, parts of it were a bit jerky and the ending is pretty haphazard, but Kara is a joyful dancer and even the judges find this infectious.

Ann and Anton next – and isn’t Widdy full of it? Having tired of her ridiculous antics long ago, her self-important, arrogant VT (“we are a democracy!”) filled me with hope that eventually enough others will be suitably revolted to finally do the decent thing. In the meantime, Ann and Anton’s Rhumba to “My Heart Will Go On” soon returned me sobbing into the shagpile. Really, can this not stop now?

Ann’s dive in likeability during the series is highlighted even further by Patsy Kensit. Having been no fan of hers at the beginning, she’s coming across beautifully now – self-deprecating, funny and a real worker. And her Argentine Tango puts me in the previously deeply-unlikely position of agreeing with Aleesha Dixon (I know). Whilst it was a bit careful in places, her intensity was utterly compelling and she was unlucky not to score higher.

Scott and Natalie’s VT can be neatly summed up in three words – SCOTT IS TIRED. Continue reading

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Eastenders: The bunny nuker

I’m loving Eastenders at the moment. It’s so funny. Yes, I know Bradley recently spectacularly died, and Stacey is wandering around with bags under her dazed eyes, looking like she hasn’t slept in decades.

Even more recently Jack has been shot in the ‘ed, and it’s touch and go whether he’ll ever swagger around the Square in his black overcoat again. Assorted Jacksons, Brannings, Butchers and other distant relatives have been keeping vigil in the hospital corridor and shouting at each other. Or praying. Dot Cotton is big on praying.

But what other people term “misery,” Janine Butcher sees as an opportunity. She needs a job, Jack is unlikely to be breathing unaided in the foreseeable, and there’s a club that needs running in the meantime. Janine is currently in love with Ryan, who is in love with her, despite her being the most horrible human being he’s ever met. These are his words, so at least we can be sure he’s going into this with his eyes open. What he doesn’t know yet is that the baby Stacey is carrying is his – and heaven help him when Janine finds out.

It’s doubtful whether Janine will need any hints or tips about how to wreak spectacular revenge, but if she did she could do worse than consulting young Ben Mitchell. His half sister Louise has just moved into the family home, and young Ben is not best pleased. He looks like a child version of Corrie’s Norris Cole but he’s far less butch than Norris.

You had to feel sorry for him yesterday when he (reluctantly) baked a cake to welcome Louise, only to be upstaged by his idiot father who’d brought a professionally iced job from the local baker. Then someone (was it Billy Mitchell?) gave Louise a big, chocolate Easter bunny, while all Ben got was a miserable little hollow egg. Ben’s response was beautifully creepy. While Peggy wept tears of grandmotherly joy that her unwieldy family had acquired a new member, the chocolate bunny was revolving slowly in the microwave, bubbling a bit and subsiding into a gooey puddle. Ben’s resentment could perhaps be a bit premature – Louise’s reaction to Peggy’s blubbing was none too impressed. Ben may just have found himself with an ally after all, as long as she maintains a sense of humour about melted chocolate.

Posted by PLA          (more Eastenders posts here)

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Eastenders live: Edge of the seat stuff

Great big pats on the back to everyone involved with the live Eastenders episode last night. Apart from the occasional verbal fluff, and a couple of focusing issues with the cameras, it all went off absolutely smoothly, and the climax was a total shocker, as promised.

They hadn’t taken the easy route, either. As well as large ensemble scenes in the pub, there was a violent rampage by Phil Mitchell (does anyone cringe as effectively as Ian Beale?), rooftop stunt work, and some intense acting. I’d like to single out Samantha Womack for particular praise – her character Ronnie had to tell her sister that she’d been raped by their father. Not an easy scene to play in ordinary times, but with the added pressure of doing it live it must have been incredibly difficult, and she was excellent.

The final scenes, with Bradley falling from the roof and Stacey, Max and Jack desperately trying to get to him, must have been technically so hard to pull off, but it was all done seamlessly. And I don’t think many people had worked out that Stacey was the killer (my money was on Peggy).

In a neat touch, Ian and Dot watched a video that Ian had found in the time capsule he dug up, ensuring that Den and Ange, Kathy, Nasty Nick, Pete, Pauline, Arthur, Frank etc etc all made their appearance in this landmark episode.

Over on BBC3, the inept George Lamb was live on the set to present the “aftermath.” Charlie Clements was obviously emotional – it was his last episode, and what a way to bow out of a programme. There were lots of people in headphones high-fiving each other and hugging in the background, as well they might.

Posted by PLA          (see more Eastenders posts)

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Eastenders: Way to celebrate a jubilee

Last night’s hour-long Eastenders episode was brilliant stuff. Two weddings simultaneously (Ricky and Bianca in all their chav finery, and Bradley and Stacey quietly in a registry office with only a parent each in attendance) and there was a  constant thud of plot bombs being dropped every few minutes.

There was so much going on that it was hard to keep pace with it all. I loved Billy Mitchell frantically gesturing at the wedding car to take another turn around the block while everyone figured out what to do about the sudden presence of Bianca’s (severely estranged) mother, and Bianca refusing to wait. “I’m nervous! I want to go in!” she said, hutching up her wedding gown and stomping towards the church. Scenes between Lindsay Coulson and Patsy Palmer were always brilliant – there’s some actorly chemistry between the two that makes them totally believable as a mother and daughter – and they were just as good last night.

Elsewhere, Janine was released from police custody due to lack of serious evidence, and turned up in the Square like an avenging angel to disrupt the wedding celebrations and point accusing fingers at assorted Brannings and Mitchells.

Becca let slip to Ronnie that Archie had raped Stacey, who was now pregnant with his child, not Bradley’s. Except, Ronnie told her, Archie wasn’t able to have more children following chemotherapy several years ago. So whose baby is it?

Shirley, who really had made an effort to look fluffy and femine for the wedding (still all in black, but throw on a few sequins and a trilby and she could pass for female on a dark night), had almost forgiven Phil for the other day when she found Sonia in his bed, but when she saw him give Sonia a peck on the cheek as he popped her into a cab back to Martin Fowler, she was having none of his (genuine) protestations of innocence. She’s going to tell the police that the alibi she gave for Phil was all made up.

Ronnie finally flipped, rather understandably, at the sight of her late father staring in her front room window every time she opens the curtains, and went out and threw a can of red paint all over the offending image.

So the stage is set for an absolute cracker of a live episode tonight. I can’t wait.

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