mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

mr fixit

I must thank a dear friend for recc'ing The Fixer. I ripped through the first four episodes last Sunday evening. My, who knew Mr Buchan was that ripped under the clerical collar in Jane Eyre? Heh. It's kind of a post 70s gritty kitchen sinky Sweeney/Professionals/Dirty Dozen version of Mission Impossible, ain't it? And while a touch right wing (the police state offing citizens it doesn't like without recourse to judicial process) it's kinda dirty fun. And Mercer is a compellingly effed up character. Lenny is scary (sadly brusque Scotsmen don't work for me the way they do my friends, I just had a brusque and annoyed Scotsman growling at me an hour ago on account of my hormonal ditziness impacting on his schedule) and, horrors, I think Callum, the hoodie with a heart of gold, got me when he presented Mercer is burnt offerings for dinner. Awwww. Also enjoyed Ciarán letting his accent off the leash for once :) Yummy! (Been lots of Ciarán lately on cable out my way).

I must admit Callum has grown on me like bathroom mould. And yeah, it's kinda sweet the way he's picking up some more mainstream life skills (from Mercer, of all people, the most undomesticated cat around) what with the shopping and cooking (aw! domestic!) and the learning stuff from Mercer's books (puppyish hero worship!) but yeah, I think it'll stand him in good stead and he seems to roll with the punches better, from practice, the poor dear, but he's not as brittle as the other two. I loved Mr Howdy, or however it was written (Mr Howdy and the gay dads stakeout cover - squeal!). Why didn't he get a credit?

It's daft and it's scary when you think about it properly and seriously, but it's fun, and I am so daft myself for not thinking of the Profs first off, what with the growly whisky swilling Scots bastard in charge, but there you go. But they do seem to be a raggedy bunch of damaged dolls thrown together to do the government's dirty work. And I do wonder who sets Lenny's lists, or is it just folks Lenny is pissed at that day? It seems to be, somewhat disturbingly, folks TPTB find politically embarassing more than clear and direct threats to national security, but the GOP always sees the two as the same, don't they? Oh, who cares? Andy Buchan is hot. End of story.

I am hooked through, and the slow drip of character details, cliche though they may be (abuse! abandonment!) are keeping me hooked. I wonder if any of the team could have a life outside Lenny's little program? Plenty of opportunity to muse upon prisons without bars, there. And I also wonder if Lenny is running any other teams, or does he save his dark arts solely for materialising with menance in supermarkets?

Btw, I should thank Jane Eyre, repeated on the ABC and UKTV, for getting through my nasty flu. It was better than asprin.

Other than that, up to my eyeballs in Philip Glenister (Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars, Demons, Cranford) and various and sundry tv vampires.

Actually, it's also been Buchan week because I've finished Holmes & Watson (weep!) so I've moved onto Richard Hannay. He's a versatile chap, this Hannay:
"About six o'clock I went home, dressed, dined at the Cafe Royal, and turned into a music-hall."
John Buchan, The Thirty-Nine Steps

So does this mean Dick is a were-music-hall? Sorry, it made me giggle on the bus (and so little does, as you might imagine). And I was wrong before, he totally is menanced by a plane out on the wilds. What can I say, the last time I read it I was at school (it's been, ahem, a while) when Robert Powell was my Hannay of choice. This time round, of course, I can't help but imagine Mr Penry-Jones in the role (oh the pain, the pain). Oh man, I loved Hannay. Definitely one of the shows that made a piece of my heart forever belong to British television. I've not seen it since. Should I? Hmmm, girlish fancy dashed upon the cruel and unrelenting rocks of 70s tv production values viewed on a half decent telly. Could be shattering. I think I should finish the book first (which is turning out to be a touch less PC than dear old ACD, to put it mildly, I make with the Sam Tyler eye-rolly often).

In the meantime, I've got S2 of The Fixer to look forward to, which I've ordered (considering I was charged you don't want to know what for just viewing half a dozen youtube clips last month I'm gonna go with dvds for the time being, you folk in the 21stC can just point and laugh at us and our copper wire and screw you phone plans). Put it this way, I coulda flown to another country for the same price, albeit on a budget airline. Dvds will do me. And I love a box set. I like the vaguely old record vinyl smell, the rip and crackle of the plastic when you fist open it, spanning the disks over the quilt and studying the sleeve notes to see which track to play first. I guess I'm just an old vinyl 12" LP girl at heart.

Speaking of which, didya hear them play a bit of the 12" of Love Song last night on Top Gear? Squee!

Wed: Yesterday was not fun. Nothing went right and when I got the call that Foxtel killed everything I had set and lined up to watch, well, I was so miserable someone bought me a chocolate cupcake. Sigh.

Speaking of cakes, I have acquired this year's Glenfiddich christmas cake. Walkers make them, if you can find one (and if you can't, beg, borrow or steal one). I saw 'em on the shelf yesterday and even though I was in a parlous state I still lugged it home. Yummy. Don't care about crushed/chewed ornaments or the state of the house now, I have my whisky cake. :)

Didn't get to watch The Fixer last night (though it was a close run thing as Foxtel was off most of the day) but I did get a decent fix of a certain blond vampire last night (and no, I don't mean Nick Knight, who turned up in an alarmingly corpulent state playing Conan Doyle</a>, of all people, in last week's Murdoch Mysteries). And Sookie and Bill - word's most bipolar couple? They swing back and forth so much my head aches. Can it just be The Adventures of Erik Northman now?

I also caught the end of Pride and Prej., I was was unable to get to sleep, especially once I realised it was the episode where Darcy takes the dip. She's a bit mercenary, that Lizzie, because poor old Darcy never really gets a look in until she clocks the family pile. $$$Ka-Ching$$$!!! (Economics and avarice in P&P: discuss).

Mind you, it's hard to watch Darcy without thinking of those damn singing monkeys. Monkeys, you ask? Okay, so we were watching the Antiques Roadshow the other day (because I have the tv tastes of an 80 year old) and they had these hideous porcelain singing and music playing monkeys in Georgian dress and they were apparently quite collectable but imho hideous beyomd imagining and the Peanut Gallery was crowing about the heights of Georgian culture and it all ended in us chortling over imagining Darcy and his porcelain primate collection: "Miss Bennet, may I recommend to you my collection of singing monkeys - are they not sprightly?" and so on and so forth until we collapsed into heaving giggles and I suppose you had to be there but now I cannot be taken around the halls of Pemberly without expecting to see those damn singing monkeys cavorting on a mantlepiece somewhere.

Meanwhile, despite random cupcakes, and despite yet another restructure (they're damn near monthly now) we've still got the dreaded fridge thief among us. I've long since given up on keeping yoghurts, milk or fruit in the fridge and while we had a theory that it was a sweet toothed fiend yesterday a brand new wrapped and lebelled tub of hummus vanished, but the spinach was still there. Well, at least we've eliminated Popeye as a suspect says I, to deafening silence. Tough room.

And can somebody invent a lunchbox with a proper big arse padlock on it? Ta muchly.

Fri: I totally meant to post this well before this but it's been a long hard hot water bottle week and yesterday I didn't get home until late, late, missing my beloved Doc Holliday in Maverick, the finale of Demons and most of Burn Notice (and what has happened to Rodney Rowland? Oh dear). Worse, I had a blue and yellow doughnut waiting for me, a childhood treat, but by the time I got home, in the ridiculously hot weather, it tasted like it had been waiting around since 1976. Oh well, it was the thought that counted, the necessary nod to nostalgia and, surprise, the old doughnut shop was still there (in a town where whole once historic streets vanish before my eyes). My heart may be broken again, but at least I had my tough, chewy blue and yellow doughnut, as is tradition. My lovely salad was wilty too. All for getting stuff done that had to be online first thing this morning. Yeah. Right.

Oh well, I am amused meanwhile that they might have found Nero's revolving restaurant. It bemuses me so much. Of course, we went straight to the Bond</a> place, On Her Majesty's Secret Service forever linking the two, and those emperors really were like Bond villains, if you believe Suetonius. I'd forgoe the volcano lair, though, heh.

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Tags: andrew buchan, james bond, jane austen, john buchan, rupert penry-jones, sherlock holmes, simple minds, top gear, true blood

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