May 8th, 2006

lom cell

naked british guys

I was somewhat irritated on the weekend because I really wanted to see Tony Head in Who, but couldn't (though dear friends are winging copies to me poste haste, sometimes impatience gets the better of one). In a case of be careful what you wish for, I saw a whole lot of Tony in Manchild in UKTV on Sunday. Oh, there's no mystery there any more, as he paraded around wearing nowt but a smile and a tiny naughty apron. Good grief. The phrase "No more fuel on the fire" did pop into my head, but too late, Manchild is nothing but fuel. There was precious little I didn't see of Tony (this episode or any other).

Nigel Havers also doffed trou, thus removing any mystery from that decades long tv viewing relationship, too.

I mean, the fact that British thesps will drop their daks for a dollar is but one of many reasons why I love them, but Manchild always manages to evoke squeals and the covering of eyes. It's damn fun though, and the Get Carter reference was cheerfully appreciated.

Actually, it's funny, but after years of nowt but On The Buses and Dad's Army repeats, UKTV is finally doing the business, at least on Sunday evenings when it grows cold and dark so early now. There was a youngish Edward Woodward in The Saint, a very young Ford Prefect in The Sweeney (in an episode that seems to have been recycled for The Professionals as The Rack) then nekkid Tony in Manchild and not nekkid but oh so dashing in uniform Phil in Vanity Fair (Dobbin is so sweet, so loyal, so decent and so whipped, the dear boy), then Matthew, the former king of Kudos angst, in Spooks (before it turned into The New Avengers) and finishing off with Robson, nekkid and tortured, in Wire in The Blood (such a sick and twisted show).
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