Tag Archives: Emma

Glee 205: It’s the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane

Dammit, Rachel!

I’m not sure quite what I made of the Rocky Horror Glee Show. On the plus side, it was good to hear some of those funny songs again. When I was in my teens I went through a Rocky Horror phase, playing the film over and over on video. I had a serious crush on Tim Curry (still do, come to think of it), and I loved it when Meatloaf roared in on his motorbike. If you’ve not seen the film, I suspect the phrase ‘Meatloaf roared in on his motorbike’ might seem slightly odd. Anyway, it was great to see the Meat himself pop up in Glee, though what a waste that he just had a dull speaking part. I’d pay proper pounds for him do a song with Sue. Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad perhaps? Bat out of Hell’s too obvious.

What a lovely couple.

Also good were Kurt’s Riffraff, Quinn’s Magenta (doesn’t she look lovely as a brunette?) and Finn as Brad: at last, the role he was born to play. And I completely loved Emma doing Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch me. It was so sexy. The chemistry between her and Will zinged off the rafters; and Brittany and Santana watching through the window (in homage to Magenta and Columbia in the film) was a joy.

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Glee 23: Rachel knows from a crackhouse?

Glee’s back. And it’s exactly the same! Which is to say, it’s still very enjoyable but never quite as good as it could be.

Emma, we miss you.

Actually it isn’t exactly the same. Big-eyed Emma wasn’t there and to my surprise I missed her. She does often bring some kooky kind of centre to proceedings, and when she isn’t doing that, she’s totally rocking a pretty blouse-and-cardi combo. I don’t think she died (oh, my memory), so I hope she comes back soon.

Tina’s now going out with Other Asian instead of Artie, and Santana’s apparently had a boob job, though while everyone seemed to notice them instantly, I thought she ought to have demanded a refund. Not that I have the exact before and after measurements.

And someone called Matt has left the school, but I couldn’t tell you who he was if my life depended on it.

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The Archers: Shaken to the core

High Priestess Whitburn says 'Let's shake it up, baby'. Photo from the Guardian.

For an update after the Big Event, click here

Since High Priestess Vanessa Whitburn announced that there would be a special sixtieth anniversary episode on January 2nd, the world has been abuzz with anticipation (it says here in this BBC press release that I’m copying this from). Ambridge will be SHAKEN TO THE CORE apparently. Well shiver me timbers and pour us another sherry Marjorie. I have managed to avoid the message board speculation, which uses the acronym SATTC to refer to this topic, in order to bring you my unadulterated (apart from the sherry) thoughts on what these possible Ambridge Shaking Events might be.  Apologies if they’re all wildly unoriginal and have been bandied about already across the internet, though I don’t know why I’m apologising because I don’t actually care. The only clues I have permitted myself are Herself’s own words that two storylines are involved: ‘one running and one new surprise.’

In Category One, the most obvious Core-Shaking Storyline currently running is Hell-en and her increasingly criminal behaviour. If ever a pregnant woman was asking to be pushed down the stairs it was this one. Possible core-shakers include:

  • Tony finally growing a pair and strangling Hell-en with that godwaful-sounding butterfly mobile. The clue is that it ‘hangs from the ceiling’ – this has been mentioned several times – so he could easily make it look like suicide.
  • Ian finally realising that Hell-en is an evil succubus and poisoning her with the much-referred to white spirit he borrowed from Robert Snell.
  • Hell-en miscarrying, though I really don’t think the writers will go down this route, for reasons too complicated and frankly dull to go into here (if you’re interested I can send you my lengthy ‘Why Hell-en’s baby will survive’ treatise, £2.99 plus p&p).
  • Hell-en going into premature labour. The baby’s health hangs in the balance for a few nail-biting weeks before the little fighter slowly gets stronger and stronger, though sadly not strong enough to cope with the ultimate horror of being parented by Hell-en.

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The Archers: Beyond an Artichoke

Waaaah! I just found out that Hell-en is my mother.

I have a strange sense of déjà vu from when Shula was preggers with the uncharming Daniel. During that time, which surely went on for considerably longer than the regulation nine months, my default position was to yell, ‘That’s just TOO MUCH SODDING INFORMATION’ at the radio. I now find myself doing exactly the same, whenever Hell-en pops up to tell us earnestly about the triple-test, the pros and cons of water birth, or the position she fancies giving birth in (I guess she feels she’s owed an interesting position, having missed out on one to conceive the sprog). At least I can shout at the radio or pop outside for a brief sob. Poor Kirsty, Hell-en’s main confidante, has no option but to listen. It’s no wonder something snapped the other day and she came over all sarky and abrasive.

‘I had to talk to the midwife about a birth plan’, simpered Hell-en. ‘Ooh, a plan’, sneered Kirsty, her voice dripping in contempt, ‘Bet you liked that!’

Hell-en laughed uncertainly, then started banging on about tests for Down’s Syndrome.

‘What would you do if the tests showed up positive?’ Kirsty asked, bluntly. ‘It’s very unlikely’, Hell-en blustered.  ‘Yes’, insisted newly stroppy Kirsty, ‘But what if it WAS?’  ‘I’d have the baby anyway of course’, smarmed Hell-en.

As this exchange took rather a long time, and seemed to be sign-posted in big purple capital letters, it made me suspect the Hell-en pregnancy storyline will be filled with uncertain test results and all the resulting issues of the day: what if your result is a bit iffy? Should you have an amniocentesis? What are the stats for younger women having babies with Down’s? Will Hell-en be more or less insufferable if her baby has a disability?

Poor us. Poor baby. And poor, poor Kirsty.

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The Archers: A riot of ennui

And cut! Grandma, can you tell us how you did that pattern on the top? Wake up, Grandma.

Everyone’s got their favourite. I’ve got loads. My most recent is from just the other day. It’s the one where Josh films Jill making steak and kidney pie. He might just as well have painted a wall and set the camera to record it for fifteen minutes. If I tell you that the only vaguely interesting thing that happened was Kenton referring to the pie as ‘snake and pygmy’, it’ll give you some idea.

Boring episodes of the Archers. Lord knows, there’s an embarrassment of riches to choose from. All which feature the flower and produce show, for instance; and there’s so many of those, is it any wonder that Bert Fry has taken to phoning in his surprise at being awarded a rosette for the biggest marrow? All which centre around harvest festival, Easter or other Anglican red-letter day, and their counterpart, any based round a service in St Stephens, can be added to the teetering mound of mundanity. And naturally, any one in which Tom reveals that his sausages are organic. The presence of Tom alone counteracts any other possible excitement. He neutralises heists, earthquakes and Lilian’s giggle at a stroke.

Fanoflinda recalls fondly a particularly soporific episode in which Phil (god rest his soul) and Jill were showing holiday snaps. ‘Look at Jill in that hat!’ the poor actors were forced to cry. You could hear the sounds of their careers being flushed down the toilet – or you would have, if the flushing loo sound effect hadn’t been deemed too interesting.

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Glee (13): Nobody, no, nobody, is gonna rain on my parade!

Reminding us why she is the star of the show, Rachel blew the competition away with her superb rendition of Don’t Rain On My Parade. It’s good she’s resisted doing Barbra till now; this was the perfect moment for her to demonstrate how well she suits that power-house, roof-raising, put-the-show-on-right-now performance that usually only Babs can get away with. It was wonderful. I had a tear in my eye, for god’s sake! Rachel explained she could do it as a last minute thing because ‘I’ve been working on it since I was four’.

The rest of the episode couldn’t live up to this. Plenty of storylines came to an end: Finn discovered the truth about Quinn’s baby; Glee Club realised Sue had leaked their set-list; Will left Terri; and Emma didn’t marry Ken. But none of this was surprising – we’d either been told or guessed. Certainly none of it had the sheer excitement of Rachel running down the central aisle of the auditorium, belting out ‘I’m gonna live and live NOW! Get what I want, I know how!’ Might have to watch it again in a sec.

Mercedes did have one belter of a song, but it wasn’t as impressive as her colleagues implied with their awe-struck expressions. The best part was before she began, tossing over her shoulder to Cool Piano Man, ‘Do I even have to tell you what song?’ He immediately started playing the opening chords of And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going, which apparently is a standard but I’d never heard it before, and wouldn’t be sorry if I never heard it again. No-one else had much chance to shine, a shame given it was the last episode.

Even Sue seemed subdued, and too easily crushed by Principal Figgins. She had one great put-down, to Will, of course: ‘I’m reasonably confident you’re going to add revenge to the long list of things you’re no good at, right next to being married, running a glee club and finding a hairstyle that doesn’t make you look like a lesbian’. Good to see her getting in one more dig about the poor man’s hair. Their chemistry is terrific; I keep hoping one of them will grab the other and deliver a great big snog, though Will saved that for Emma. His loss, I think.

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The Archers: Enough advice, already

Uh, please can I have a choice of mother?

I picked up the radio and shook it, unable to believe my ears. Surely that wasn’t Kate giving Helen advice about having babies, was it? Wasn’t that a bit like Hugh Hefner guiding Peter Stringfellow in the ways of monogamy? Or, here’s a good one, like Emma giving Pip advice about choosing the right man… hang on a minute!

Yes, it was Implausible Advice Week on the Archers. Kate started it, by lecturing Helen on what a huge commitment it is to have children. You could hear a collective Radio 4 gasp of outrage. I bow to no man in my dislike of Helen, but even I had to applaud when she pointed out that Kate had abandoned her child and gone to live on the other side of the world.

But did this setback stop Kate? Did it heck as like. Just a couple of days later, she was dishing out advice to Alice about not settling down with Christopher. ‘You’re not going to marry him, are you?’ she sneered. (I bloody hope she is: Jenny at that wedding would be a sight worth seeing. Er, hearing.) Since Kate slunk in from Jo’berg, we’ve been dodging large, cumbersome, Bartleby-sized hints that all is not well with the Kate-Lucas ménage, Lucas presumably having finally woken from his trance. So this, too, was a piece of wisdom that Kate was not in a position to give. Especially as her first choice of baby-father was Roy, who’s got only two settings: boring as all get out, or committing acts of racism. Yes, Roy, I do have a long memory, don’t I?

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Glee (12): Rocking a Hitler moustache

At long last, several weeks after the expiry of its ‘best before’ date, the fake pregnancy storyline thudded to a close. Considering how awful it had been till now, it was surprisingly engaging. Will was on fine, believable form as the betrayed husband, though a bit scary when ordering Terri to lift up her shirt. It says something for how unsympathetic Terri is that I was still on his rapist-acting side. Even her cry of despair was evil: ‘This marriage works because you don’t feel good about yourself!’

Discovering a handy pile of mattresses in the school gym, Will ripped the cellophane off one, in a poignant and wordless scene, and thus exposed Glee Club to charges of commercialism. The Gleeks had been paid in cheap mattresses for their cheap advert, in which they performed Jump while, uh, jumping. I said it was cheap.

In addition to Will’s worm turning, there were some other personality changes. Emma stopped flirting and stood up for Ken in her own crazy fashion (‘Ken has 74 flaws, as of yesterday’); Quinn grew a pair and blackmailed Sue; and Terri became vaguely human.

In other news, Rachel extracted all the fun out of a Lily Allen song; Kurt had an absurdly long speech right at the start, then was given nothing else to do; and, wonderfully, Sue returned to baiting Will about his crowning glory: ‘You’re too busy loading your hair with enormous amounts of product. Today, it just looks like you put lard in it.’

Running through the episode was the bizarre American tradition of yearbook photos, and their potential for humiliation. I did enjoy the montage of Rachel popping up in every club’s photo, Muslim Club being my favourite. While this episode delivered too many sappy messages about being true to yourself, being proud of who you are, yadda yadda yadda, Glee remembered its heart of darkness at the final minute. I’d been anxious lest the jocks backed off from defacing the Glee Club photo for spurious and sickly reasons – ‘that girl’s too hot to give a Hitler moustache’ or ‘I quite like Andrew Lloyd-Webber’, or even, ‘I’ve learned something about myself today.’ But thank the black lord they didn’t. The football players were allowed to run gleefully amok with a marker pen, in one of the most honest scenes of the entire series.

Posted by Qwerty                    (See all Glee posts here)

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Glee 10: Ballad of the Mothers

This week’s theme was mothers. Quinn, soon to become one herself, had a telling scene with her own mama, a Barbie-doll Republican rather like Cindy ‘Loose Cannon’ McCain. Trying to zip Quinn into her gown, Mrs Fabray noticed Quinn was not as svelte as usual in the tummy department. Rather than asking some pressing questions regarding Quinn’s eligibility to be Celibacy Queen, she followed the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ principle and merely offered to alter the dress.

Finn’s Mum was a nice contrast. When she discovered him in his bedroom singing to a sonogram image of Quinn’s foetus (don’t teenage boys masturbate any more?), she immediately deduced that he’d got his girl up the duff, and hugged him, saying in traditional motherly fashion, ‘It’ll be all right.’ She then offered a home to Quinn, who’d been thrown out by her simpering mother and plastic-faced father. Yay! Finn’s ma is best mother in show. (Mother in the biological and nurturing sense, not as in, you cheating mutha, or whatever it is young people say.)

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Glee (8): Sink my battleship and shake your money-maker

This episode was all about trying to fit together two things that don’t really go. Officially, this meant Ken and Emma asking Will to mash up their disparate wedding song choices. Unofficially, this included every other pairing in the show: Glee Club and Football Club; Rachel and Puck; pork chow mein and Schindlers List; Sue and love; and Ken and Emma them very selves.

 The most bizarre coupling was of course the tracksuited Iron Maiden being pranged by Cupid’s dart.  What a sight it was: a happy, laughing Sue Sylvester. Not laughing because she’d just annihilated someone with a lacerating put-down, but laughing because she was dancing up a friendly swing storm with her arch-nemesis, Will. I blinked, to make it go away, but they were still there, cha-cha-ing like bezzie mates. What the hell had happened? A lobotomy or… no, Sue was in love: with Plastic Rod, news anchor and sweet-talking sleazeball. Sue threw herself into this short affair with vigour, setting a new standard of sexy talk: ‘You sunk my battleship, Rod. And you sunk it hard.’

A giddy, tender Sue was a thing of joy, though not as splendid as evil Sue, who resurfaced abruptly once Rod had cheated on her and, what’s worse, embarrassed her over the understated red  Zoot suit she thought might work for a date.

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