The Sweeney's doing
'Cos they've got the word to go
They get a gang of villains
In a shed up at Heathrow
They're counting out the fivers
When the handcuffs lock again
In and out of Wandsworth
With the numbers on their names
It's funny how their missus'
Always look the bleeding same
And meanwhile at the station
There's a couple of likely lads
Who swear like how's your father
And they're very cool for cats
They're cool for cats
Cool for Cats, Squeeze
There's an episode of Black Books where Manny, having spent an night overdosing on coffee and a complete set of The Sweeney, spends the next day running about in a 70s leather jacket and talking Sweeney-speak and pretending to be a cop.
Well, after much whining and pouting my set of season 1 and season 2 of The Sweeney finally arrived on Friday, and we slapped it straight on the player. Bugger Stargate, bugger anything else. Ah, that's the stuff, I sigh, as the opening credits start up. Oh yes, indeedy.
Several episodes later and we're not quite in the same fevered state as Manny, but it's a close run thing, Guv. In fact, we made ourselves quite sick, having our usual drinking game of everytime somebody said Guv...oooh, ick.
I'd forgotten just how much I used to love The Sweeney, really, really love it. I'd forgotten just how good and sometimes downright nasty the plots could be. Then there were the fabulous 70s fashions: Wide ties! Flares! Avacado! Orange! Seriously trippy wallpaper patterns. Not to mention hours of hours of "hey, it's that guy", though we didn't need to be told when we spotted a young proto-Burnside in an episode.
Our delight was increased when we discovered an episode of Special Branch was included as an extra. Yipee. More fast cars, council flats and villain's drinkers.
Glorious stuff. And, in the unedited form, why, you get such a sense of the times they're like little time capsules. You could almost smell 70s Britain, just watching the re-mastered dvds (suspect 70s Britain smelt like boiled cabbage, much like it does today - grin).
Luverly stuff. There was a funny moment in Special Branch where the guy, not Craven, was stirring his tea with a pen and Bro and I both piped up with "mmmm, inky." I remarked that I sometimes worried about us. Bro replied that we weren't the ones stirring our tea with a ballpoint pen. Fair enough. After making his public service tea, Tough Copper #2 then handed it on to Craven. Eeew. No wonder 70s cops were always in such a mood - they could never get a decent cup of tea. And so much bacon, ham and egg sandwiches were consumed on stakeouts I felt my own arteries hardening. Then there was the beer at 70s prices. Whimper.
Ah, the 70s, God bless 'em.
Rounded out my 70s weekend with Streets of San Francisco. More wide ties and fast cars and loose women. Heh.
It's all very nostalgic. I went to school with a dead keen Sweeney fan, though, being a Dennis fan, she leaned more towards Minder. At uni my best pal was a dyed in the wool John Thaw fan. I have no Sweeney friends now, sigh, but Bro was a happy and willing co-conspirator.
In between this Sweeney-a-thon there was my search for a cleaning product that featured either dolphin or trees on the label which led to Coles, because I figured if they have a health food section, which Woolies do not, they might have allegedly eco-friendly cleaning products, which they did (and Woolies most assuredly don't). Not because I was especially moved to be eco friendly but because I needed something to clean the shower stall with that wouldn't kill me immediately with toxic fumes in an unventilated space. Found a bottle without a tree but a little orange man on the front. No, not an Irishman, but an anthromorphic orange. Twas a solvent claiming to be made from the discarded peels of oranges and you know what? It didn't make me faint or retch, it smelt all loverly and orangey and it cleaned up the bathroom a treat, except the tiny corners where the scrubbing brush wouldn't reach. Time to retire/replace the old toothbrush and have another go next week, I suspect.
Still, that was done. Repotted my palm (now far too big to return to work window), weeded a bit, pruned a bit, attended to sick plants, sorted through a pile of old newspapers and magazines (ie clipping out the Jude etc pictures before tossing them in the recycling bin) and started on cleaning the cupboards, but only got as far as throwing out stale food on the compost or to the birds and using up stuff about to go past their useby date. Hence the coffee and biscuits and jam - yum.
I also had to vote in the council elections on Saturday. Not that I cared, or cared to, but it's compulsory. I would be more civic minded, but as it's a choice between Ali Baba and his Forty Thieves or Ali Babba and his other Forty Thieves, and every heritage buiding, park, waterway etc that should have been preserved is now a giant dust bowl of a crater courtesy of Ali Baba Properties Inc, well, who really cares any more?
I did run into a very old friend though. Funny how I was thinking of old, old school mates (like kindergarten) for the first time in ages just on Friday, and now I have a dinner invitation. Scary, but keen. These are folks I actually do want to catch up with. Should be good.
Watched Ray Winstone in Henry VIII. I was very annoyed at all the stick Ray got about not being posh enough. Bastards, but then, I get that sort of snobbery daily, but I was surprised that poor Ray hasn't earned his stripes yet, at least not enough to get away with it without sniping from upper class twats. Sod 'em. I thought Ray was good, but I loathe Helena Bonham-Carter and the story just dragged, it was very hard to stay awake. Next week features The Bean though. :D
Oh, and I fell asleep on Friday night so I missed Simon and Minty, dammit. Posh Nosh is too fekking funny and REG must have moved in with a friend o'mine because he has her arrogant SO down pat. Which is why you'll always find me crying with laughter when I watch it. And poor Minty, she's the image of one of my Mother's friends. Yup, I know enough upper-middle class twats to be deeply, deeply amused at their well deserved tv skewering. Oh yes, baby, yes.
I also slept through Andrew Denton being feelthy on The Glasshouse. Bugger. Damn you Silent Witness. It's all your fault for being so boring. Next week I'll set the bloody vcr. Hmph.
In other news, a friend who was both inspiring and instructional committed suicide over the weeked. Either I'm numb or I've just been through this too many damn times now. I suspect we'll have funiture throwing later in this week as hormones and grief meet in an ugly, Turner-esque sea of seething emotions. For now though, I'm just numb. kathlaw, I'll miss your wit and wisdom.
Update: had a flurry of emails from Fearless Leader who is, of course, at home, it being a monday, but he likes to send me emails every five minutes, just so I can't get anything done. Anyway he was whining about the test server being down and finally, after an hour, managed to discover that the server is offline for maintenance. Nice of them to tell me. Ack. To paraphrase from a friend, there isn't enough dark chocolate in the world to get me through this week.
Okay, now I'm into anger mode. Silly cow. She had so much to live for. I suppose she had her reasons, but, still. Silly cow. I will miss her daily updates.
Okay: denial, ie, retreat in fantasy. So, anyone else notice how much Roxy looks like Kai (from Lexx, as if you didn't know) in Van Helsing, or is it just me? And who the hell thought of casting Richo, Hugh and Diver Dan in the same fillum? Mmmm, scenery...
Oh, and not to appear entirely obssesed with anachronistic apples (but Granny Smiths is local history which means school assignments which means brain stuffed with useless facts) but I also played a couple of episodes of Dick Turpin and one episode revolved around the theft of two Granny Smith apples, one hundred years too early. Ack, I'm being haunted by anachronistic apples. They're everywhere!
The one-word meme
Gakked from varina8
Sum up your opinion or impression of me in one word, leave it as a comment in this posting, and then post this sentence in your own journal, please.
Gakked from various and sundry (finally got it to work):