mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

  • Mood:

great whitegoods hunter

I showed off my new boots to my sibling, who commented that they were "okay, unless I wanted to run away from daleks in them", so it's official, then.

Mind you, the new boots ain't made for walkin' and damn nearly killed me while I went hunting whitegoods on Sunday (the shop for which catalogue I was clutching had gone, thus I was reduced to running around in blind panic but I've ordered one regulation compliant machine, I hope).

And all I wanted to do was Arthur Dent it again. Ah well, at least other folks rose to the challenge because I had to limp away from the field of battle last night, knackered. Don't tell my boss, as I keep being threatened with the younger, healthier chipper models all jockeying for my job.

And it's nigh impossible to fake it today, because, folks, we're talking #4 in under six weeks, and this is the full monty, with bloating, mega cramps and ditziness and, yes, a certain lack of patience for the wisdom of fools. I'd go to the docs only it never stops, and, oh yes, not allowed any days off, doncha know. I'm gonna have to have a smile surgically fixed to my face, or would, if not for that pesky no days off thing.

So, whistling while I work (if only to mask the moaning). But never mind. Ran into some folks yesterday, which was sociable, even if they did occupy the scary end of the nerd spectrum.

But at least I got my northern lads on telly, uninterrupted. There was Jonas on Friday night, all moody and skulking in the background in Ghost Squad, sporting some truly distressing shirts, and sadly for the poor lad, flirting outrageously with his boss is getting him nowhere. What hard hearted iron maidens these tv women are, to be so unmoved by the lad in full flirt mode. Ah well. Perhaps it's because they know he can turn it on and off like a tap (but I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers).

Sunday brought more Jonas (bwee!) in the truly dire and embaressing Xena-esque (complete with yodels) ninja assassin episode. Yikes. And it's really sad when shows aspire to Xena and fail. Oh dear.

The only thing that really saves this episode is Sam Troughton taking Much's PTSD from banal comedy hook to the rather quite poignant (and yet they still think it's funny when he startles easily or is afraid of the dark). Poor little traumatised Much, but at least he has layers, which is more than can be said of most of the lads, though one could argue that Robin's messianic death wish is also a symptom of trauma, they've not really dealt with it aside from the odd strop or mention (I mean, Robin goes actually postal at one point, but nobody seems to want to, you know, address it).

There was also a lovely moment of near Robin of Sherwood magic, but it was too quickly and cruelly dismissed as this Robin mocks and laughs at such rustic superstitions, as well he might, but the slight against RoS made me bridle, just a bit.

There was also some lovely real chemistry between Marian and Guy, more than enough to resent the obligatory curttailing of theor relationship. Honestly, to have Marian really fall for Guy and leave Robin dangling, if only for another half season, would have been the more interesting plotline. Ah well.

So it wasn't entirely without merit, but the whole ninja warrior thing, the awful costumes (lycra, cammo pants), the worse fight choreography, and the whole 'back to business as usual' quote, well, it just drove me bonkers. Damn this series: for every good moment there's an equally crass one to cancel it out. But still, the boys are pretty, there's plenty of plot treads left dangling and next week Al and Will pair up, like totally canon.

Life on Mars gave us the great football episode. Where to start? Gene in the pub or Sam's heartbreaking Hillsborough soliloquy? Gene and Sam, undercover in the pub - snarkiness, domesticity, drunkeness manhandling and violence - what's not to love? One of my most favourite episodes, ever. Then there's the whole fathers and sons riff, and Sam going from smiles to teary angst in .0001 of a second when he sees his young self off to his last ever footie match with his dad (Simmo wuz robbed of that BAFTA, I tell ya). So much goodness, so much to chew on (after the fluffy fun of RH).

But I just gotta say (or reiterate) how much I love the snarky, bitchy, lterally push me pull you relationship Sam and Gene have, and no more so than in this episode: Sam rubbing out the menu board and throwing the towel at Gene (pure His Girl Friday screwball comedy that), Sam's gloating bitchiness over a worse for wear Gene, Sam demanding to show Gene how clever he was (oooh, feel the seduction), and did I mention the manhandling?

Then there are the western themes, our faves, chief amongst them being Gene's "Wagons roll!" Gotta love that.,0.jpg
the weather,,2102996,00.html
I think we've seen this one,22049,21767009-5006013,00.html
No joke, it's evil Heath,21985,21910122-5006023,00.html
McMahon is back as Dr Doom
Julian McMahon is back as Dr Doom
Those Eyes. That Grin. Those Ding Dongs.
Jericho's Surprise Resurrection
New Milo Ventimiglia photoshoot for the LA Times called "Saving the world, with style."

Men's Health May 2007 AU
Tags: david wenham, gene hunt, life on mars, magazine scans, robin hood, sam troughton, sam tyler

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