Anyway, the description runs thus: "teenage girl is found wandering naked on the Oxford planes [sic]". Firstly, I think they meant plains, but mostly I am bemused because even though he is in no way credited as being any where in the vicinity of the script, it is very much the motif, shall we say, of one of my favourite tv writers and it's a device that pops up quite often (Danger Man, Thriller, The Professionals).
Basically, it just means score! because if an episode ever starts with a lone scantily clad disorientated female staggering across the landscape it's a bonus jackpot round on our ongoing drinking game. Yes, we have no lives.
Yesterday was a rather rubbish day, but I did get to sort of watch some tv, after a fashion. Meadowlands ended up surprisingly Prisonery. I mean, the whole think smacked of The Prisoner, but they really went for the unsubtle in the last few moments. I presume Frank Morgan (I'll call him that because he has pretty much the same role as he had in Life on Mars) taking a sledgehammer to the circuit box was the only reason why Rover wasn't released as our hero attempted escape. So yeah, part Prisoner, part Twin Peaks, and all weird. I was so with Dave for leaving the brats behind. Yeesh, where did they dig those two up from?
The only reason I could recommend it is for David Morrissey, and the occasional glimpses of Ripley Holden, and maybe the odd moment of Prisonoirish, but for the most part, it was cut rate soap actors behaving badly.
Ditto The Tudors, which wrapped up with my beloved Sam exiting, stage left. Sigh. And way to go young Tom, the man who wrote Utopia roasting those of a different philosophical bent. Just like a man, to go all hard core conservative when he hits middleage. Too sad for poor Sammy though, making political missteps in his desperation, and still they all regret turfing him out because at least he knew how to run things and keep young Harry on a leash. But mainly I was just watching it for the spectacle. It's why I'm enjoying it this time around, rather than gritting my teeth upon the first viewing: Bugger history, or how I learnt to love The Tudors.
The best thing I've learnt is that if I'm confused over who that guy is and why he's suddenly saying or doing that it's best just to shrug and never, ever go look up the interwebs or crack open a book because that only leads to further confusion and furrowing of brows. Just sit back and look at the pretty peoples. And they are pretty: nary a skanky peasant in sight, except for the plague episode. (We're back to the Posh People's tv history these days, even Robin Hood is no longer the People's Hero, but a pawn to Richard. Was so hoping he'd get bitterly disillusioned liked in RoS, but no such luck). Have you noticed it's all been back to people in big houses, kitchen sinkers need not apply. Or maybe that's just the American money talking, who knows?
Anyway, Cromwell slunk about like Blackadder (his friend had a cunning plan, so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it foxy), Chuck remained clueless and Henry hard up (heh). Actually there was much rumpy pumpy going on towards the end and I was thinking Anne held out until she had her ring on her finger but it must have been one of those weird Catholic pinky promises where it didn't count because young Harry had to get off at Redfern. Well, okay, whatever you say (and one day, Jonathan, you're going to have to learn to act other emotions than just snitty, smug and outraged because the nekkidness is nice but it won't carry you forever).
Insomnia: dying for a good night's sleep
TV is up, happiness down
Only men can save trashy girls
Lungless frog found in Indonesia
For your eyes only: Bond man's letters fetch big price
Dry Murray reveals past secrets
Where's Wally? for the Google Earth generation
Sony gets city in a lather with foam ad
Sony floods Miami with foam
Keanu's most excellent interview adventure
Keanu Reeves: I relish being an antihero
Take 10: Television geeks (or nerds)
Is Goya masterpiece just a colossal mistake?
Killer whales blamed for decline of Scottish seals
We're living in the 70s
Must high art be so miserable?
Tea time goes high tech
Fiesta driver, 93, wrecks two Porsches
Politics & Power: Bligh's Sydney Rebellion 1808
Artist Banksy pranks security
How James Bond was forged in the heat of war