Daily Archives: June 9, 2010

Big Brother: Welcome to the big parade

Is it a sign that you’re feeling old and jaded when you no longer get a frisson of excitement when the new Big Brother diary room chair is revealed? Or is it just the sign of an old and jaded format? Even Davina only gave the interior of this year’s house a brisk walk-through.

The style of the house this year could be described as “bad acid trip at Blackpool Pleasure Beach.” It looks like it started off as funfair themed, then they got bored and threw any old design style at it, plus some leftover props from previous years. There’s also going to be a welcome appearance from the talking tree from Celeb Big Brother, who has been hewn into a chest of drawers and installed in the bathroom.

Anyway, enough about the house. What about the inhabitants? I can’t remember any of their names, apart from someone called Shabby (because that’s how she usually looks, apparently). There’s a token posh boy, a bloke who’s very proud of his monobrow, a man who had his legs blown off in Northern Ireland, a Beyonce lookalike, an Australian who thinks he looks like David Beckham… you get the picture. At least none of them described themselves as a “glamour model.” I’ve got absolutely no idea who’ll turn out to be interesting and who’ll be deadly dull, at this stage.

The housemates only discovered their housemately state immediately before entering the house. Before that, they’d been outside in a massed band of 80 or so hopefuls, which meant that most of them knew each other at least by sight when they entered the house. This robbed us of those amusing (and usually very telling) sizing each other up scenes at the beginning.

As if this wasn’t exciting enough (it wasn’t), a last contestant was chosen at random. He has to dress as a mole and live in a mole hill, but convince the others that he isn’t a mole. Or something. He looked as confused as I felt.

Posted by PLA          (more BB blogging here)


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The Archers: Goodbye, Mr Perks

Blimey, I certainly didn’t see that coming. Peeling the potatoes, I was, and idly listening to Fallon flirting with Harry (pack it in, Fallon, none of us think you’re going to end up with Harry rather than Jazzer), when Jolene rang and dropped the bombshell. Two bombshells actually, the first being that she gets a better signal on her mobile when calling from New Zealand than I do when trying to speak to a chum up the road. Must find out what network she’s with.

And secondly, that Sid – Landlord of the Bull, erstwhile manager of the cricket team, and King of Homophobes – was dead. You could have knocked me over with a potato peel. I reeled from the sink and turned up the radio (laptop, actually – it was on Listen Again but ‘turn up the computer’ is a phrase that has yet to slip comfortably into the language). I felt sure if I listened hard enough, it would turn out to be a mistake. Lucy had smothered Sid with a pillow but he had been resuscitated; a rampaging herd of lambs had trampled him underfoot while out jogging (him, not the lambs), but he was now right as rain and suffering no more than hurt pride and hoof imprints on his stomach. But no. Heart attack and bam. Gone.

On reflection, some clues were there, if only I had been concentrating. Sid hasn’t been heard from for a while (apparently the actor who plays him is ill). And Fallon, a few days ago, expressed regret she hadn’t said goodbye to Sid before he went to NZ, then said, ‘Well, it’s not as if it’s the last time I’ll see him.’ Big chunky clue – no-one ever says that in soaps unless it is in fact the last time they’ll ever see them.

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Holby City: A bad day at the office for Connie

The trouble with these ice-cool, in-control types is that when they fall, they fall hard – and usually alone.

Someone was out to get Connie this week. She was getting nasty notes, and someone smashed up the photo of her daughter which sits on her desk. Was it former old school friend Kevin, whose wife had just died? Connie thought so, and told him she’d call the police if he didn’t stop harassing her.

Then she was attacked in her office (quite savagely – Amanda Mealing twittered today that “I had serious bruises around my neck”) – but it wasn’t Kevin. In fact, Kevin was the one who rescued her. The attacker was the man from a couple of weeks ago, whose mother died. Remember Connie pinched his parking place, and he took so long to get to his mother’s bedside that she’d already died by the time he’d arrived? Grief has apparently turned him into a surgeon-clobbering fiend.

This was a slightly clunky twist which I’d guessed was coming two weeks ago, but almost more troubling than physical assault, as far as Mrs Beauchamp is concerned, is that patients are losing faith in her. While Joseph and Irish Dr Greg were running around some housing estate trying to retrieve a heart, Connie was back at the hospital waiting for the tardy organ and defending her reputation. This is not customary Connie territory – her reputation (more of a legend, in fact) and skills are normally beyond question.

It’s also usually a fact of the Connie Beauchamp persona that she really doesn’t need other people for support or affirmation, but in her hour of need she reached out to Irish Dr Greg. However, earlier in the episode when she was still her former self she was a bit cool with him, and he chose to repay her by being cool in return and going out for a drink with Joseph instead.

Joseph needed a swift half after work because of all the running around chasing missing hearts, but also because Faye told him she is with child. She is also with Linden, but the child is Joseph’s. It would be nice for Joseph to have a friend like Irish Dr Greg, who neatly balances Joseph’s OCD tendencies by being maverick and laid-back and letting his heart rule his head.

I didn’t blog about Holby last week because I was away, but I saw the episode (eventually) and loved the bickering/flirting between Sacha and Jac. I wonder if that’s going to go anywhere?

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