Also, Guy was supposed to be a bounty hunter, which is far more intriguing than Sheriff's buttmonkey or whatever his official and amiguous title/job description is. He's supposed to be Bobba Fett to Robin's Han Solo. Alas, not quite in the series, though BF had a rather undignified end, so let's not dwell.
Guy has thus far escaped his fate at Robin's hands, as Robin was supposed to behead him and then take out a knife and deface him, literally. Nice. Now that would have made for a darker, more interesting and wholly mad-arse dangerous Robin (a little more Deadwood than Sherwood, methinks).
But instead, so I'm told, I can look forward to ninjas and a crazy Nam vet, in the same episode, which is over-egging the dire, just a bit, imho. Gah, it's been ages since I've bothered with a show so out of control I just feel the need to wrest it away from its crack addled creators. It could have been good. Oh well, at least it makes people say nice things about Robin of Sherwood, for a change.
Meanwhile, today's insult to my poor green liveried boy:
"Jonas Armstrong, moonlighting from being out-acted by the trees of Sherwood Forest" - The Scotsman
Ouch. My poor baby.
Robin though, aka psycho boy, is still giving me the pips re his treatment of Much. A friend was asking about Much's status, and from my barest of googling (which is a damn sight more than TPTB have done) the manservant of a highly ranked noble was almost middle class (well, okay, top ranking peasant, then), often gifted with goods and lands (as poor Much was supposed to be) for services rendered. Sometimes called a yeoman he would have, as Much was, required to follow his master into battle, but what we're talking about is a sergeant to his officer, a high level house servant as opposed to a common or garden variety peasant. He does not get bossed about by carpenters and wide boys. At least he's not supposed to. It's poor form on Robin's part to allow it as it shows a lack of respect to Robin, Much being his man.
So, technically, it's wrong to have Much on the bottom rung. He's supposed to be Harper to Robin's Sharpe (though it's more like Jeeves to Wooster). I know the role of Robin's right hand man is supposed to be either John or Will, in the tradition, but since they made Much Robin's batman (cough) they should have the courage of their convictions to follow through. The sudden disrating of Much as slave to all seems unfair and unjust. To me, anyway.
But mainly I just feel sorry for poor Much, being the Cinders of the group (someday his prince will come) and there's the whole Sam factor at play (being the grandson of my very first Doctor Who, from when I was two, he's touched by the grace of god and can do no wrong, though, as a friend remarked, he's pushing it).
Btw, whenever Much starts getting all sulky and pouty and throwing tanties he's just like his grandfather, which is either creepy or cute, I can't decide which. Who knew hamminess was genetic? Or the dominant phenotype?
Dear Much. I have visions of a Caravaggio-eque Much by candlelight that needs to be committed to paper. My poor long suffering Zeppo.
Not that a selfish and arrogant and indeed thoughtless Robin isn't canon, it's just that the series seems to be clinging too closely, if not humping the leg of, the Xena template and it just isn't really being allowed to find it's own feet, but for the occassional flashes of what it could be, if nutured properly. To be honest, it looks like it suffers from some sort of executive interference, like my work once TPTB have finished with it. I can see it now: "Yes, that's all very well, but how about some ninjas..."
So anyways, got home late, late late last night after being left here all alone but with homework - grizzle (ie no extra curricular doodlings allowed). The IQ thingy worked fine and recorded Time Team for me so I didn't have to pout and fret (that's what I rent it for, to tape stuff I'll miss). Now I just have to figure out how to copy off the box. It's a puzzler as it's set up to not make than an option.
Then I strung up my Chrissy lights at last. I'd not really done much but get out my wee tree that used to sit atop my old telly (but now perches atop the digi-box) because I'm supposed to be still cleaning up but I put my foot down. Not this year the 16 hour days followed by 2am sessions scrubbing the kitchen floor. Fuck it. Fuck them.
So instead I curled up to twinkling lights, half a box of last year's box o' chocs (discovered way up the back of the fridge during the ritual turkey clearance) and settled down to see if poor Jonas would be out acted by office furniture in Ghost Squad.
I do remember it, I watched the first two episodes, the second even ended up being ripped off mightily for an unfinished LOM fic, though I'd unconsciously absorbed and regurgitated plot points without even guessing the source. The first one I remembered better, though alas, not poor Pete (his character) though there were some particularly comanding venetian blinds in the vicinity which may explain his lack of impact.
Ghost Squad is all about police internal affairs, catching bent coppers. It's a pretty bog standard high end British cop show and quite watchable if not particularly noteworthy (other than featuring my screen candy du jour) and it's unfortunate that it was instantly forgotten/dropped the moment a certain copper roared up in a gold Cortina. But, you know, who can resist the Gene Genie?
The main thing is, re-watching it now, it explains where the overpowering sense of de-ja-vu I had watching the pilot for Torchwood came from, as we start with a silly widefaced and brunette young coppette who stumbles into dark secrets and stuff she's not supposed to see and is slowly drawn into a new career with a secret team working out of a secret base. No, not seeing the parallels at all.
Oh yeah, she's also seeimgly completely crap at her job and has a BF who already has the words 'dumped for a team member because we're all secretive and stuff' written in felt marker on his forehead (loved the felt marker bit, btw). I can only wonder now if there are fembots in the basement.
Jonas is pretty, though it seems his role is mostly to stand around and be just pretty, and occassionally cryptic. Hopefully there'll be more about Pete in later, still unwatched but I can't wait, episodes. Mainly, though, he's just there to stand around and make the GwennieSue character look good. Ouch. I think of it as penance for Robin Hood - heh.
Meanwhile I discovered several prize soundbytes from young Ewan in my in tray this morning. I suppose he's flogging a new picture, but Ewan is always good value, interview wise. There are some actors I appreciate only for their work, ie if forced to sit next to them on a plane I would have to try and stab them to death with a plastic fork, but there are other actors where I much prefer the man over the work, and Ewan is the standard bearer for that group. There's a lot of Ewan's back catalogue I watch solely out of loyalty, but I just adore him. He makes me LOL on a cold, wet morning at me desk, and thus is worth his weight in gold.
Btw, back to days of our outlaws, and how is it possible that Guy doesn't know Marian is still as thick as thieves, per se, with young Robin? Did they stick cotton wool in his ears as well as blindfold him? Or has poor Guy been smacked over the back of the head once too often? Or are the writers just stupid?
I think we all know the answer to that one. Ninjas. For fek's sake.
You know, when I started this year on my UKTV kick, I could hold my head high and sniff imperiously that I was watching BBC shows. Now it's all plastic macs and my Beeb fix in a brown paper bag, ta very much. Oy. At least Channel 4 and ITV seem to be picking up the slack.
I think I know what the problem is. I want Deadwood in tights and instead I'm getting a panto so OTT I keep expecting to be lobbed by Minties at any moment (though I hear chucking lollies at pantos is banned now). Sigh. Much like Torchwood, the pre-show publicity led me to believe I was getting a somewhat darker show than what eventuated.
And don't tell me it's meant to be kid's telly. I watched kid's telly when I was a kid and Eagle of the Ninth had no panto moments, and Troughton and Pertwee Doctor Who stories actually had important grown up things to say about the nature of man, war (The War Games), the environment (The Green Death), etc. Okay, so they had silly stories, too, but when they rocked, they rocked. Then there were the just downright creepy but excellent and extraordinarily Gaiman-esque stories like the The Mind Robber. These were adult pieces that children could watch, rather than the other way around (childish shows that adults cringe through).
What is the matter with the world? When I was a child, everything was for grown ups and I had to stand up on the bus so adults could sit. Now I'm old and everything is for kids and I have to stand up on the bus so kids can sit. It's effed up, is what it is. Can I at least have an adult version of Robin Hood, the one with the throat slitting and head chopping? Thank you.
Oh, and in answer to my question as to whether the guys who made the absoloutely beautiful weapons for the show would be annoyed to see them starring in such sterling crap, the answer is yes.
And now for something completely different, or how items of Edwardian clothing can create moments on unintentional hilarity:
Suddenly the woman drew a small hatchet from her m...
Sun [Sydney], 11 March 1914
VENUS CUT UP.
£15,000 IN TWO SECONDS.
(Published in “The Times” This Morning.)
LONDON, Wednesday Morning.
The suffragettes have conceived another idea to make
their cause still more notorious. At 11 o’clock
yesterday morning, when the National Gallery [London]
was fairly well filled with people, a woman stood in
front of “Venus and Cupid,” by Velasquez [a.k.a.
Velazquez], in the Spanish Gallery, apparently
studying the famous work.
She was watched by a uniformed attendant and a
policeman, and there were detectives in an adjoining
gallery. Suddenly the woman drew a small hatchet from
her muff, and dealt the masterpiece a terrific blow,
shattering the glass and slashing the canvas.
Then she dealt the picture five or six less powerful
blows in rapid succession before an attendant and a
policeman could stop her. At the police station it was
found out that the vandal was Mary Richardson, a
suffragette, who had served several sentences.
Later on Richardson was charged at Bow-street, and the
police prosecutor, Mr. Muskett, said that the picture
was valued at £45,000. The cuts, he added, were so
straight and clean that it could be repaired for,
probably, £l00; but the damage by depreciation was
estimated by the Gallery authorities at £15,000.
The attendant gave evidence and said that the woman
remarked, when [under] arrest, “You can get another
picture, [but] you can’t get life. You are killing
Mrs. Pankhurst. She also said that the Home Secretary
had made the criminal code into a comic valentine.
Richardson was committed for trial.
She has issued a statement, in which she says: “I
destroyed the most beautiful woman in mythological
history as a protest against the destroying of Mrs.
Pankhurst, the most beautiful character in modern
I don't know about you, but I've just gone to the Capt. Jack place (yes, it was the silly game show episode last weekend).
Oh, nearly forgot (and I did forget to post all the good bits and Sam & Gene bits from the last D&P book), but I nearly lost it on the bus this morning. Reg was in fine form, turning Lady Bracknell into a verb:
"...and said, very Lady Bracknellish, 'A detective? You?'"
Okay, so you had to be there. I find the books written from the mid 80s to the mid 90s the most wickedly funny. So far poor Pascoe has suffered the indignity of insults, a vicious dog and the loss of his trousers. Heh.
TV tonight: State of Play, then I have to choose between Jonas and Richard again. Argh.
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