Sitting Ducks
Watch out for those buses, man! You could like fall in the road and they'd run right over you.
I know local newspapers are an easy target. In my formative years we couldn't wait for Thursday when the Surrey Mirror (known locally as the Surrey Error) hit the streets, and all the hilarity that ensued. The Error is still responsible for my favourite sandwich-board headline of all time, and I've quoted it so often I'm now not sure whether it actually existed or whether it was just a figment of my imagination. Anyway.
Tragic Steamroller man dies a hero
will take some surpassing. Although the one on the left comes a close second.
But I digress. I came here to moan about the Islington Gazette. Two subheadings from this weeks issue caught my eye.
Baby Unit Faces Axe - The Whittington Hospital's maternity unit – where Islington's X Factor winner Alexandra Burke was born – could be axed.
I mean, I know we live in a society obsessed with celebrity, but perhaps the fact that 'The City Of London Maternity Hospital' was founded on that site in 1750 and has been supporting the pregnant of London for the last 260 years would perhaps stir the outrage slightly more than the loss of an amateur crooner's birthplace?
(Actually, it wasn't called 'The City Of London Maternity Hospital' until 1918. When it was founded in 1750 it was called 'Hospital for Married Women in the City of London and parts adjacent and also for sick and lame outpatients'. Snappy.)
This morning's second headline of annoyance reads:
Campaigners have won their battle to stop strippers and naked table dancers from performing at the former headquarters of Labour MP Jeremy Corbyn.
I know that the Islington Gazette and its owners Archant (formerly Eastern Counties Newspapers but obviously in need of a rebrand into something insipid and pointless) are big blue flag-wavers, which is perhaps a foolish approach in an area so staunchly socialist, but this sort of guff is just hastening the rapid demise of the local newspaper industry, which is already on its knees and gasping for breath. The Islington Gazette itself managed to shed over a quarter of its readers between 2008 and 2009 and is now flogging just over 6,000 copies a week. In an area with a potential readership in the hundreds of thousands, it's a bit pathetic. These feeble attempts at sleight-of-hand digs at local politicians and drawing obscure celebrity connections show the local newspaper for what it is - desperately out of touch with its area and the people that live in it.
(Incidentally, I can't check the links to the stories above, as the website is down.)
Kakapo
The Kakapo. Nuttier than its own poo.
It's the time of morning where I can finally catch up on things I need to do. Aside from work, obviously, which I should be doing but can't quite muster the imagination or logical construction required to write a script, so some mindless drivelling blogging shall suffice. I will justify it as an attempt to get my mind working in the way it should be, and cast aside the lack of sleep and general confusion. The boy is suffering constipation at the moment, so a long period of uninterrupted sleep is a luxury ... the Mrs very kindly told me to take a nap at 5pm, and let me sleep until 10.30pm, so now I'm completely confused although slightly less tired than I have been. The process of looking after a newborn - well, any parent will tell you of the sheer terror and fear that it will instill in you. Up until now, of course, I never believed it - surely, the vast majority of people on earth will have an offspring at some point in their life - it must be the most natural thing in the world. What becomes clear is that collectively none of us have a clue how babies work because there's no way of asking them what the problem is. General common sense is required - something a lot of us (myself at the head of the list) lack these days. We have the internet and books, though, to freak us out about the irrelevant details, whilst ignoring the big ones. Part of the fear was described in slightly different terms by Stephen Fry this evening, although he was referring to man's ability to utterly fuck up an environment in next to no time, whilst having to take 100 years to clean up the mess. "... the melancholy fact from when you were young was that it took you five minutes to mess your bedroom up completely but a whole day to tidy it".
I actually came here to write about the Kakapo, because it I have distinct memories of my late youth, being fascinated by radio and hearing Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine rummaging in the New Zealand undergrowth to record the unique 'boom' of the Kakapo calling for its mate - never having seen the bird, I was overjoyed to see it this evening, even if in this day and age the climax of the show (as it were) is when a critically endangered species attempts to shag Mark Carwardine's head. Such is television nowadays.
The circular point being, of course, that there is so much we don't understand that nonetheless we instinctively have this desire to protect. Why also the desire to destroy? Which came first?
Televisual Treats
Quality Broadcasting
The news that Channel 4 has lost another shed load of profit (this was quite a big shed, apparently, one of those ones with two rooms, a verandah and bicycle storage) has led to the inevitable calls for it to be sold off (Tory), merged with the BBC (Labour) or placed under the guard of the National Trust (Lib Dem, probably). I'm probably more in the protectionist camp - whilst it's doing a good job with its "commercial" channels (E4, More4, Film Four and LoveFilm) its mainstream channel, like ITV, has expectations placed on it that wildly exceed reality, in a classic fudge of proportions that only manufacturers of really good fudge (i.e. the British) can manage. (See here for how to make fudge.) It's worth pointing out that as things stand, given the huge commercial pressure it's under, it's still actually making a profit. As is ITV, which is apparently as beleaguered as it's public-service-commercial-fudge-making partner. So, is it really in such a shambolic state? Or is this just the imagination of the Murdoch-led press, who would love to see both their downfall to boost the Sky network, accidentally supported by the BBC's staff who love any media story that distracts attention away from the BBC's problems, and the Guardian who have a massive media department hyping up every non-story because it drives so much traffic to their website.
The bottom line, of course, is does anyone care? Probably not. As long as the programmes are still good. Ah, well, there's the rub. I got this by email this evening.
My Ugly Best Friend is a brand new show where a glamour puss nominates her ugly duckling best friend for a makeover and we need men to rate these two girls! Whether you like blondes or brunettes, tall girls or short girls - if you have an opinion and know what you like, then we’d love to hear from you!
You will be watching video footage of our two friends and then being asked to comment on everything from their noses to their clothes but don’t worry; you won’t have to meet the girls in the flesh.
We are shooting the show this Sunday, 20th September at 9.00 in the morning in Brick Lane so if you fancy taking part, then apply now! Remember, this is a show for the chaps. Ladies, we look forward to seeing you one of our other shows! Booking is now open so if you would like to join us then you may either apply online via our website at http://www.sroaudiences.com or by replying to this email.
Oh, you so want to go. I know you do. At least we know when and where they're filming, so egg throwing is an option. I'm thinking of listing these audience invites on a regular basis to see which of these crap ideas actually gets commissioned, and who's in charge when they do. Although it's all a bit depressing, really.