Tag Archives: Jim

The Archers: Nice day for a white wedding

There’s really ever such a lot that is irritating in the Archers at the moment. All right, there’s no need for that. I mean even more than usual. There’s the continuing story of Bridge Farm going down the toilet, in which it’s hard to say who’s more infuriating: Tom for insisting they have to re-brand (how many times can he say ‘re-brand’ before we must spear him with his own pitchfork?), Tony for being so dead set against the idea, or Pat for being sanctimoniously in the middle. Also super-irksome: Tom’s godawful pigs-playing-football youtube monstrosity. Please, pretend virtual people, don’t click on it any more, it only encourages him.  The only pleasing aspect of  the Bridge Farm yawn-fest is Brenda being pissed off about being left out of the planning meeting.

Then we’ve got the December romance of Jim and Christine, which is teeth-gritting not because I’m troubled by the thought of wrinklies having sex – just ask my 75-year old boyfriend! – but because it means we have  Jim being nice instead of his old irascible wind-up-Shula self and, more to the point, we have regular interludes with Christine whose acting is still as mahogany as a sideboard. And not to mention, though I will, because everyone else is, the tedious presence of Cloive ‘Orrobin, a man who is supposed to be menacing but who is merely nauseating, and whose performance makes Christine look like John Gielgud.

Nonetheless, in a wide ocean of irritation, the thing that winds me up the most every time I switch on, is this bloody wedding. WHY? I yell regularly at the radio, there being no one in earshot to yell at, everyone having evacuated the house at the first sniff of a ‘dum di dum.’ WHY ARE THEY SO BLOODY-MINDED ABOUT JANUARY 1ST? While Nic blathers on about invitation cards (how implausible was it to think that she might actually try and buy them in the village shop? Whoever wrote that line deserves a smack), and Will decides to have Roy as his best man again because it all worked out so well last time, I just keep hurling unanswered questions into the Ambridge ether. What’s the big deal about January 1st? Who’s going to cover the huge expense of people having to be paid time-and-a-half? Why’s Caroline being so sodding accommodating when clearly she’s already got a ton of other stuff going on? What about it traditionally being a nice quiet day after the excesses of New Year’s Eve, a buffer with nothing more than telly and left-over Quality Street before everyone has to back to work? What, in short, is going on with Will and Nic’s massive sense of entitlement that they’ve decided the day and that’s that; now everyone else must work their butts off to ensure it happens just as they have randomly decreed? And finally, and most puzzling of all, why is Nic even contemplating wedlock, when Will becomes more serial killer-esque with every episode?

In short, I’m not surprised Ivy chose now to peg it. ‘A wedding?’ she cried. ‘On January 1st? How incredibly narksome. Unplug the life support Susan, there’s a love.’

If only we could all be as blissfully un-sentient.

Posted by Qwerty

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The Apprentice 711: Columbus at the Coliseum

Gratuitous pic of Tre from Series Three

In the normal run of things I don’t generally miss an Apprentice candidate once they’ve felt the wrong end of the pointy finger. I think back to the start of this series and can barely recall those who fell early. Alex? Felicity? Edward? (I had to look them up.) Even ones I thought I’d miss like Ellie (too normal for her own good) and Edna (off her head; leather gloves) are gone from my affections. Watching The Apprentice makes Roman emperors of us all. We sit on our comfy thrones watching funny little people doing crazy things for our amusement. If one of them gets gored by a lion, or whatever it was that went on in the Coliseum (why should I be expected to know this when other people think Columbus was the potato guy?), we just say ‘Who’s next?’ The Apprentice juggernaut is far bigger than its candidates.

Very occasionally a personality impresses itself so indelibly that it is remembered after its sell-by date. Stuart Baggs from the last series for instance; and I’ve always had a soft spot for Tre from Series Three because he was so stroppy and interesting. I might have to face up to the fact that actually I just really fancied Tre. But generally I don’t miss anyone after they’ve gone, except Margaret.

All that said, this week I did find myself missing Melody and her over-defined enunciation just a bit. I would have loved to have seen her in Helen and Tom’s team, insisting that ac-tu-ally it was Charlie Raleigh who liked to smoke potatoes and Byron studied poetry at Yale with Al Gore. I would also have been interested to see if Helen and Tom still decided to choose a nodding BNP bulldog equivalent of a restaurant with Melody present. Say what you like about Melody, go on, you know you want to, but she certainly didn’t look ‘100% British.’ Which was the best thing about her.

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The Apprentice 702: Who buys this cr-app?

As Qwerty Solo was off out galavanting and/or gadding about last night (she didn’t specify which), I was left to play Velocity Skywalker in her absence following her sterling First Night work here.

So, what did The Best Salespeople Ever to Honour The Humble Universe By Letting Their Glorious Feet Tread Upon It, which handily abbreviates to TBSETHTHUBLTGFTUI, come up with this time?

They had to do it without Exploding Edward the Angry Accountant, who bade us farewell in the previous instalment, presumably to go on to greater things in the medical profession or similar (“LOOK, I DON’T CARE if you’re haemorrhaging or WHATEVER, roll with the punches and SQUEEZE the BALLS out them ORANGES FASTER!”).

So, how did the remaining TBSETHTHUBLTGFTUI (see, catchy, eh?) do? I’ll answer this question with another – how many words are there in the English language for “bad”? Well, all of those. Possibly even more than that.

"I told you to only switch the blaaahdy computer on"

First and foremost, my thanks go to the programme makers by editing the swooshy music sound effects over the pictures so that SirAlun/LordShugah/EmperorAmstradAlmighty/whatever appeared to have morphed into a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Yo, Al! Join this band, they’d love to have you, I’m sure! AllyBaby then showed admirable range by resembling a wobbly-headed Thunderbirds puppet channelling Ray Winstone in the obligatory “listen up, you blaaahdy shlags!” style introduction video. Incidentally, this episode’s blaaahdy count = 0. Boo.

This episode’s Herculean, humanity-saving task was designing mobile phone apps for a global market. This was greeted by:

a)      Thomas The Inventor Engine (whom I rather like- solidarity for glasses wearers and all that) in a suit at 5am. To be fair, he had probably been up all night in it designing chocolate-coated teapots or similar;

b)      Much high-pitched squealing and nightwear-clad excitement (which was all rather Channel 5 for my tastes), apart from;

c)      Some groggy-looking girl in what appeared to be a zebra-print dressing gown. Given the CVs of the candidates generally, maybe her previous claim to fame was running a market stall with Robert Mugabe or something; and

d)      Lots of app-based puns that were by and large app-alling (oh shut up, it’s still better than Vincent the Musketeer’s tumbleweed-inducing “app-le” gag). Continue reading

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