mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

boys, toys

Okay, so you want to know about the real news this week, yes? The debut of the Oz version of Top Gear. Well, slavish is a word that could be applied, as the set was almost exact and the segments the same. It was also way more technical and I whined that they were wasting film on car facts - one even sketched out the superior clutch system, so we'd understand. That was painful, but that said, Oz boys are far, far, far more serious about their cars than Brit boys, so this must be allowed, I suppose.

There was also the problem with the 'star in a bog standard car' segment, as it's called out here. Quite simply, our boys can drive. I remember one old thesp telling me a prequisite for becoming an actor in Australia was a truck driver's licence, and I don't think those days are gone. I'm afraid our chaps are just too damn cool behind the wheel to be entertaining. Certainly Vince whipped around the course as if he was driving around a carpark (and clocked an impressive 1.34). There was none of the flailing, extravagant wheel turning, gearbox crunching and near death defying spills that the English nancy boys bring into play when they slip their delicate wee persoages behind the wheel.

I suppose it stands to reason though. Think of it this way: Mad Max vs Noddy. Nuff said, really.

It's a sad thing that our lads might be so cool behind the wheel they're boring. That said, I'd love to see that renowned petrolhead Eric Bana do a lap.

As for the three presenters, well, they need a bit of work and Warren Brown, already beloved by many, was the standout. I loved it when he sketched what his stunt was going to be. More cartooning please. It's very Warren and it would be a great way to make the show the same but different. Warren himself, in order to discover why sharks are often found to have swallowed number plates, wrapped himself in sauages and lowered himself into Port Lincoln (shark central, SA) in a caged mini moke. That was a great bit of film.

Oh yeah, and I winced as the drove over the sand dunes. Not cool, guys (but a Top Gear tradition, roaring across fragile ecosystems, I will admit).

It was the shark bit that probably inspired our discussion while watching the Time Team guys explained about beheadings to nine year olds, and I remarked how nine year olds love that stuff, as the class I talked to loved the story about the shark coughing up the arm in the aquarium. Probably because we'd been watching the end of Silent Witness before that (I was sulking, with tea) the Peanut Gallery suddenly decided he'd like to see that on Silent Witness, and then proceeded to do the shark vomit noises before segueing into the Silent Witness theme tune (I forgot he'd been in the school choir). Then he decidee to go one better: not an aquarium shark but a Damien Hirst shark.

Why yes, we are bored and grusome.

That's about it, I've not caught up on the rest of my weekly viewing (and I'm not even sure I got Burn Notice as the print guide and e-guide varied by over an hour, meant to stay up and check but this week's Messiah sent me to sleep).

There are no new Morse books in the second hand shop and I was in error when I said I'd cut down my magazine buying to almost none. I forgot about that small British film that's coming out next month. Heh.

I still love my new Docs, even though the breaking in phase is hard. And some of the silver is rubbing off already. Yes, there's nothing sadder than an old goth, but I wanted to know the pleasure of owning one bitchin' pair of Docs before being put in the ground, and now I have. And I promise my next pair will be the National Trust ones. Also, aside from being far superior in comfort to my old ones, I'm not getting knocked, thumped, pushed, shoved, sent spinning, wedged, stomped, thwacked or anything else, well, not for nearly a week, anyway. Behold the power of the Docs. Well, I thought that, but today I was knocked aside hard enough to bruise and then two blond bitches cut in front of me, so no respect for the Docs. Sigh.

Oh, and I had to eschew weeding yesterday because the green bin was all full (the Peanut Gallery braved the south side of the house). I worry that if I keep weeding when I'm annoyed my bad vibes will work on the garden like weed killer. Still, it's better than doing anything else when annoyed (and the bullying at work means annoyed is a constant state of being).

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Tags: silent witness, top gear

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