Tag Archives: Terry

True Blood 305: Watch how fast I can type motherf***er

Thanks for the flowers, Franklin. And, uh, the rope.

Episode of the Series is hereby awarded to this week’s roller-coaster of delights. The last few episodes were slightly in danger of losing their sense of humour, so embroiled were they in action, plot and blood. But this week there were so many light – darkly light – moments to savour. Most involved my new favourite couple, Franklin and Tara. From him jealously strangling her when she received a text from Lafayette, and Tara choking out ‘He’s – my – cousin – and – he’s – gay!’, to Franklin texting him back: ‘Watch how fast I can type motherfucker,’ I love every crazy minute these two spend together. Admittedly, in Tara’s case those minutes are spent somewhat unwillingly and indeed, tied up. Franklin’s nuts about Tara, as well as being just nuts. He told Russell, ‘She’s such a fucking disaster, we could be twins’ and bust into great racking, psychotically over the top blood-stained sobs after Tara tried to escape. Their brief romance stepped up a pace when Franklin offered to take her out for a ‘last dinner,’ because he was planning to turn her into his vampire bride. Her Hammer House of Horror expression on receiving this proposal was a thing of beauty.

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True Blood 303: Another rug ruined

Ok, you might be taller than me, and VERY cute, but... my damn rug!

Even before the credits, Eric violently savaged a werewolf in Sookie’s house. What IS it with that house? Makes Amityville look like a retirement home for gentlefolk. Sookie ought to just redecorate in red, it’d save so much on Mr Muscle. Eric was unrepentant that he’d added to the mess. ‘I got your rug all wet,’ he growled, through a faceful of werewolf blood.

The credits provided brief respite before we were plunged into the King of Louisiana’s palace, silver-lined doors and burning ex-girlfriends a speciality. Talbot was most displeased that a valuable tapestry was used to put Lorena out, but the King dismissed him with a camply-arched eyebrow, and settled down to give Bill a little homily on love and humans, leaving the usually opinionated Bill quite speechless.

We got quite a bit more Bill back-story: how he tried to return to his wife after becoming a vampire (doh! Bad idea, Bill), and how Lorena came after him with her infuriating belief that there’s no such thing as too much make-up. It shows how evil Lorena is that I was amazed she merely glamoured Bill’s wife, rather than biting a hole in her neck and ruining yet another perfectly good rug. Poor old Bill just cannot shake off Lorena; she is the thick-skinned sort who considers mere stalking a tame way to court love. Her cunning plan was that Bill would turn down the King and thus get Sookie killed, but Bill thwartingly renounced his allegiance to Louisiana. Then he started shagging Lorena violently – and when I say violently, I mean he twisted her head all the way round to the opposite side of her neck so he wouldn’t have to look at her – with all of us yelling, ‘No, Bill! NO!’ It was the most disturbing sex scene in TB by far, and that includes all those other ones that you can think of.

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True Blood 302: Thicker than Blood Bisque

To say the plot is thickening scarcely hints at the extent of it. Nazis! Werewolves! Nazi Werewolves! Camp drawling kings with takeover plans! Mothers in loony bins! Whole new families of shape-shifters!

The plot was thicker than porridge, thicker than mud, go on then, even thicker than blood. It became officially too complicated to follow. But it didn’t matter really, because it was so enjoyable. I’ll try and relay what I saw, but rather like a dream in which everyone changes identity and you can’t cross the road because your legs are made of custard, it mightn’t make any sense.

We began with Bill chewing up a bunch of werewolves in a scene so gory that I pushed aside my chicken dinner with a little moan. Then in galloped an anachronistic figure, a riding-jacketed toff on a horse. Turned out he was Vampire King of Mississippi – but of course – and he it was who had got the werewolves to kidnap Bill, in a cockamamie plan to win the hand in marriage of Queen Sophie-Ann. Don’t worry if you’re not following; that makes two of us.

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True Blood 206: Not much fun left in feeding on the willing

Official antidote to True Blood anxiety

This episode was so stressful that as soon as it finished, I had to watch an old DVD of Everybody Loves Raymond to calm my heart-rate. If it wasn’t Bill being menaced by his old girlfriend (and I mean old), it was Sookie being dragged screaming into the basement of Steve Newlin’s dodgy church. And if it wasn’t Lafayette having post-traumatic flashbacks, it was Sam about to be sacrificed at a mad Maryann bacchanal. It was just one darn thing after another.

Though I knew it was coming, I was still gutted when Daphne betrayed Sam. I wanted Sam to finally have a bit of romantic luck. Yes, Daphne turned into a deer. But so what? As they say in Some Like it Hot, nobody’s perfect. Then she turned into a pig instead, and we knew she was Maryann’s bitch. All right, sow. Even Andy chasing her into the undergrowth, calling, ‘Pig? Pig?’, couldn’t dispel the sense of doom.

Brief aside to deliver a high-five to the special effects people who invented the blank dark orgy eyes thing. Very clever – simple, yet scarily effective.

Once again, Sookie's pathetic telepathy failed to help

Sookie hooked up with Isabel’s human, Hugo, a Tom Hanks lookie-likey, to infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun.  They didn’t make a very good job of it, being almost instantly rumbled by crazy man Steve, who alienated his wife by being not just vicious, but by using inappropriate cuss words. Sarah worked through this in her religious way, by prayer and soul-searching. Oh no she didn’t, she worked through it by having sex with Jason right there in the church, insisting God definitely wanted them to do it. Just guessing, but I wonder if the TB writers aren’t too fussed about organised religion? We keep getting these little hints. Before they got captured, Hugo expressed incredulity that Sookie hadn’t thought of asking Bill to ‘turn’ her. We’ve been kind of incredulous about this too, but then Sookie is famously not the sharpest fang in the mouth.

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True Blood 205: I pray Jesus isn’t watching this crap today

I'm channelling this Gran thing real good. Damn, I could use a strawberry.

Had Maryann ever been creepier than when Tara found her in Sookie’s kitchen, piling the table with supersize-me fruit salad? Tara’s social embarrassment – far more painful than a life-threatening three-clawed gouge – was palpable when Maryann revealed her intention to stay. Tara suddenly found she was dealing with a pair of infuriating hippies. Eggs sat there unconcernedly strumming his guitar and mumbling the Deep South equivalent of ‘what gives, man?’ He explained they were always moving around. Tara stared, agog. ‘What are you? Nomads?’ she cried. ‘Fucking Bedouins?’ No Tara, they’re freeloading dropouts with a side-order of evil destruction.

In fact, Maryann managed to raise the creepiness bar to eleven. When Tara returned from an unsettling evening at Merlottes, reeling from everyone having been mysteriously so mean, Maryann was sitting at the fruit-free kitchen table, wearing a prim smock, hair in a loose bun. Having realised the Greek/excess/orgy vibe wasn’t doing it for Tara, Maryann had cleverly decided to model herself on Gran instead. This tactic worked. Tara, like an eejit, agreed that Maryann and Eggs could move in, saying, ‘Sookie won’t mind’. Oh yes she will, Tara.

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MasterChef: blue plaster disaster

Just a quickie, because I can’t let Terry go past without a mention. Bless that boy. I’m not sure I’m more worried that he’s on drugs or that he ought to take some to calm down. Either way, he’ll have a nervous breakdown if he’s not careful. I had to watch with my hands over my eyes after he nearly cut his thumb off. Mind you, watching him being tended to by John Torode was very endearing.  I wanted to climb into the television screen and give him a cuddle myself. Terry I mean. Well either of them actually.

And he pulled off some lovely tasting food, despite all that mess, chaos and sweat. Watching him cook was like someone carrying a tray full of crystal glasses coming down a bobsleigh course. Utterly exhausting, but he’s so committed and interesting, I really wanted him to succeed. I’d like the boy to win the whole series actually, but only if he can carry on without lopping off any limbs or having a heart attack.

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