Tucker - what a nutjob!

Love it, hate it or just think you're above it, last night's Dancing On Ice offered up one of the best moments of live TV I have seen in many a moon.

The clip speaks for itself. Listen to the whoops of delight from the crowd and howls of laughter from the commentator. Go on. Persevere with this clip; if you're not smiling at the end of it, then your heart is made of stone and ice runs through your veins. It'll be in all those end of year clip shows, you mark my words.

Todd Carty. We salute you.

Johnny the wadd

The period from December 1989 through to July 1992 is, bar some memorable moments, a complete and utter blur for me. This was highlighted to me more recently when I met up with two old chums back in December.

Old Chum #1 is a great friend, who I've now known for 20 years since our days at college in Kirkcaldy. He introduced me to Old Chum #2 who I saw periodically throughout the 1990s; the last time we met was Saturday 28 August 1999 (how specific was that?). Our December meeting was a night of great laughter and plenty of, "Do you remember the time when we..." moments. The problem for me was that Old Chum #2 had a load of memories involving events we attended and nights out that we'd had of which I had absolutely no recall whatsoever. Bit of a worry. For me at any rate.

I think I was in a band in the early 1990s. Possibly only briefly. At some point I think I left (reasons below) and the others went onto record some pretty astounding - and acclaimed - material in subsequent years. Since we met in 1989, OC #1 and I had shared a dream of, somehow or other, being in a band and making music. This idea simmered along for a couple of years. By 1991, our minds were filled with lots of music of the sort we'd like to make; My Bloody Valentine, Ride, Galaxie 500, Fugazi, Mudhoney, Mercury Rev. We decided to make a go of it. I played guitar and, in keeping with the era, had all manner of effects pedals which helped to hide the fact that I was okay, but nowhere near brilliant.

We needed others to join us. A bassist and a drummer would be a start. Oh... and a decent guitarist who could play properly. OC #1 and I advertised on the college noticeboard and got a call from a psycho from Glenrothes who, it turned out, wanted to make music containing widdly-diddly-diddly-weeeee guitar solos that even Joe Satriani or Yngwie Malmsteen would consider a bit too much. This style was (and remains) not very much to our taste. We both knew a guy called Iain H (now in Part Chimp) and we knew that he already had an impressive track record in the Kirkcaldy area, as part of The Schoolhouse in particular, so we asked him along for a practice and - needless to say - he was abso-fucking-lutely shit hot. Sadly, this is where it all starts to get a bit hazy. AH, another mutual friend, was learning to play bass and I'm pretty sure he joined around that time too.

Whilst I think there were a number of other factors involved (a change in personal musical tastes notwithstanding), I'm sure my decision to leave this embryonic band was based, in part, on having seen Iain H play that day. I just knew that I couldn't even begin to cut the mustard (love that phrase!) and so decided to call it a day. I was way out of my depth, but there was no ill feeling at all and I continued to see them regularly. They eventually recruited Supernova drummer, AF, and the proper mark #1 line-up was complete, but how about a name?

Initially, the band went under the moniker of Linus, but they had to change it as it turned out that some other bunch of cretins who'd already made a bit of a name for themselves were also using it. In the end, they became Sawyer. They gigged extensively, including a memorable performance at Cafe Drummond in Aberdeen where I was working by that time (but that's another story). Together, they recorded an early demo which won them M8 magazine's Demo of the Month (October 1993) in the days before it became dedicated exclusively to dance and club culture.

In early 1994, they recorded and released a four-track, double 7" on Human Condition Records. The material was recorded and produced by the legendary Jamie Watson in Edinburgh and I was privileged enough to attend one of their days in the studio - a great experience. The band also asked me to come up with some ideas for the sleeve and I submitted a few designs, some of which they used for the back cover and a small insert. "Not exactly life-affirming" was a line from their track Guy and had been milling around my head at the time and so I used it against some colourised cut 'n' paste shots of the beautiful people [TM]. I'm sure I meant it as some kind of comment about whether this was something ordinary folks were meant to aspire to. Or something.

The live shows and the recorded EP got the band some great reviews as they continued to build their reputation. I also think that EP's lead track, Ghetty Chasun, got played on The John Peel Show in 1994 [citation needed!]. After a line-up change that saw them become a five-piece, Sawyer went on to release their one and only album, On The Seven, in 2000 (read the short Sunday Herald review here). And in the end... that was that.

It would be nice to post some embedded mp3s here to give you a flavour of Sawyer's immense sound, but I'd need to see if I could get permission from them first (JM, if you're reading?). Sawyer - they gave us what they could.

[Post script: Looks like there's now a newer, completely unrelated Sawyer from Portugal, here.]

I can make the good times roll... love you with my heart and soul

Oh, hold the fucking front page.

According to a new (not to mention, completely pointless) poll, the so-called Great British public [TM] have only gone and voted the theme tune off of Only Fools And Horses as their favourite theme tune in the world... ever! You will notice my deliberate use of the word "their", rather than "our", in relation to the Great British public [TM], because, actually... I don't remember anyone asking me. And I'll wager any of you lot reading this weren't canvassed either.

However, what's not entirely clear is exactly which OFAH theme tune the Great British public [TM] love best. Is it:

1. Ronnie Hazlehurst's hideous "whacky" saxophone offering from series one?
2. John Sullivan's opening theme used from series two onwards?
3. John Sullivan's closing theme used from series two onwards?

Well? Well!!!??? Frankly, I'm not really interested in the proper answer to that, but the sweeping generalisations made by these polls do my nut in. I sort of like OFAH, but I just groan with weariness when all people can ever go on about are:

1. Del Boy falling through the bar.
2. Del and Rodney dressed as Batman and Robin.
3. The chandelier scene.
4. Del faints when the pocket watch is valued.

Anyway, these three OFAH themes were completely different compositions. Some of the other themes in the top ten have used the same tune, but in varying versions over the years, so you can almost let them off with being so non-specific in their choices. Even the mistakenly-left-on-some-Australian-exports Delaware version of the Doctor Who theme and the briefly-adopted-in-1993-but-soon-dropped-after-public-"outrage" jazzy re-working of the Eastenders theme were still recognisable as being the Doctor Who and Eastenders themes.

So, here's the published top ten in full. It's bound to have a profound impact on your life (seriously... The A-Team... just what is the obsession with this steaming pile of cack?).

1. Only Fools and Horses
2. Minder
3. Doctor Who
4. Match of the Day
5. EastEnders
6. The A-Team
7. Friends
8. The Pink Panther
9. Ski Sunday
10. Coronation Street

And not because you specifically asked me (or even care), but because it's my blog and I can do what I like, here are my favourites (although all are in equal first place)...

• Grange Hill (Chicken Man by Alan Hawkshaw)
• Top of the Pops (Whole Lotta Love by CCS + Yellow Pearl by Phil Lynott + that one which preceded Whole Lotta Love in the very early 1970s)
• Tomorrow's World (the Johnny Dankworth one)
• The Persduaders (John Barry)
• Noah and Nelly
• John Craven's Newsround (Johnny One Note performed by Ted Heath and his Orchestra)
• Crown Court (Distant Hills - the closing theme)
• Department S (the actual one used in the programme, not the Cyril Stapleton one which often appears on compilation albums - although that is rather good too)
• Screen Test (the proper, full-length version contains both the opening and closing themes)
• The Tomorrow People (Dudley Simpson)
• Man About The House (Up To Date by Simon Park Orchestra)
• On The Buses (not sure who did this, but that bass... that bass!!!)
• The Protectors (Avenues and Alleyways by Tony Christie - of course)

That's put the world to rights then, hasn't it?

You're not alone

Caught in the act!


Would-be blogger, Sky Clearbrook, enjoys a night on the tiles with Olive out of On The Buses.

Better than sharing your bed with a man eating a jar of pickled onions, eh Olive?!

Doddery, I am not!

Ha ha!

What a silly sausage that Kate Thornton is. She's only gone and got herself booed offstage after shouting, "Come on, Liverpool!" to a Newcastle audience whilst presenting the Strictly Come Dancing live tour.

The dipshit ex X Factor presenter is quoted as saying, "Everyone in Newcastle probably hates me now!" What does she mean? Only Newcastle?
Where did it all go wrong?

Let's have a look at today's Countdown conundrum!

Being my first Monday off in a wee while, I took the opportunity to watch the-all-new-for-'09 Countdown.

To best sum it up, all I can say is that it was a bit like watching a foreign version of a programme that you're really familiar with. The same, but different - which, I guess, it is.

Much has been made on websites such as Digital Spy about Rachel Riley's alleged maths gaffs during filming of the numbers round, but as far as I could make out, she did just fine. Let's face it, love her or hate her, Carol Vorderman was always going to be a very hard act to follow, having built up such a formidable reputation. On the evidence of today's broadcast, she might have appeared just a little nervy at times (dropping a consonant card on the floor), but otherwise, Riley seems to be doing just fine.

Less comfortable to watch was new anchor, Jeff Stelling's stilted attempts at banter which seemed to fall rather flat. That said, it's worth bearing in mind that much-loved (and missed) Richard Whiteley was famed for cracking some real humdingers during his 23 year stint, often generating nothing more than groans from Vorderman and the studio audience. So too, Des O'Connor who seemed to fit in so well (but let's leave that old grump, Lynam out of all this, shall we?). At this point, Riley and Stelling do not seem to enjoy the same chemistry which Vorderman shared with Whiteley, but that's no reason to write them off just yet. It's fair to say that, having watched the first edition replayed on More 4 as part of Channel Four's 25th anniversary night back in November 2007, I was struck by how ill-at-ease Richard Whiteley and Carol Vorderman appeared. So long as they are given a bit of time to settle into their roles properly, I am sure Rachel Riley and Jeff Stelling will make Countdown every bit as enjoyable as it has been since 1982.

As a wee treat, here's a lazy YouTube embed of Fry and Laurie's affectionate parody from 1991...

Uli! Uli! Wie spat ist es?

Not so much a post, more a collection of half-remembered quotes!

Ahh... Hans Schaudi und Lieselotte Meyer...

If you attended secondary school in the early to mid 1980s (and possibly even the '60s and '70s), you may very well remember German lessons featuring these two adventure-lovin' Deutsche funsters.

At our school, you either got compulsory French or compulsory German during first and second year. Nobody was asked to express a preference, it just depended on the luck of the draw. I got German.

Hans und Lieselotte, accompanied by a dog called Lumpi, were a bunch of static cartoon characters whose still-frame scrapes were projected from a roll of film wound on by the teacher (in our case, Mrs "Frau" Davidson). The character voices and sound effects were supplied by a trusty old audio tape and the cue to wind on the film roll was indicated by a sharp, "Doot ! Doot!" sound. Looking back on it now, it must have taken a fair amount of manual skill to co-ordinate all these pieces of analogue equipment and keep a rowdy bunch of sods like us in check all at the same time! Respect is well overdue to you, Frau Davidson.

Join with me now as I take a stroll down memory lane back to 1983-1985 and re-live some of those classic lines from Hans und Lieselotte (und Lumpi)!

"Hier ist Lumpi. Lumpi ist mein Hund." [Doot! Doot!]

Q. "Du heist Guisele?" A. "Nein, ich heise Fritz!" [Doot! Doot!]

#1 "Wo ist Lumpi?" #2 "Lumpi ist tot!" #1 "Nein! Lumpi ist nicht tot!" [Doot! Doot!]

"Ahh! Schnitzel. Prima!" [Doot! Doot!]

"Herr Schaudi ist krank!" [Doot! Doot!]

Q. "Wo ist die pfeife?" A. "Lumpi hat deine pfeife." [Doot! Doot!]

Aww. Such memories. Any more for any more?

So yes I guess they're asking you to back a horse that's good for glue...

24 - Day (ie season... ie series) 7 made its UK debut last night on Sky One. Yeah... Jack (as they so often say) is back.

Famously postponed from January last year due to the US writers' strike, Fox have been afforded the luxury of taking their time over producing this new series and accordingly, viewers have been promised "the best season yet". The viewers will be the judge of that, I suppose.

In spite of all its preposterousness, I was a big fan of 24 up to Day 5. I felt Day 6 started well, but quickly descended into farce and, I must say, the early signs for the new season are not entirely encouraging.

Those of us who follow such things have known for about a year now that one-time CTU good guy, Tony Almeida, has returned from the dead and has somehow - even more inexplicably - become a terrorist himself. Given that Jack Bauer already has his hands around his throat at the end of episode two, we are clearly in for that good old 24 chestnut... spending two or three episodes chasing one baddie, only to find out there's an even bigger baddie whom Jack spends the next two or three episodes chasing, only then to find out there's an even bigger baddie again and... okay, okay, you get the picture.

I suppose I'm getting pissed off with it mainly because, having spent around 146 hours of my life (including 24:Redemption, but excluding advert breaks) watching the franchise thus far, I'm just getting a little too long in the tooth for it all and, paradoxically, find 24's unpredictability just a little too eye-rollingly predictable.

From the start, there has been an underlying hint that behind all of this, there is some sort of "biggest baddie of all". Will we ever get to the point where we find out their identity and their motive? Whilst I will continue to tune in, you are not reading the words of a man who is holding his breath.

You've got to have a system...

I've always thought Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Harry Hill look very alike.

So, what's it gonna be? Placenta provencale or shark infested custard?

The last resort?

Haha!

Seemingly, Jonathan Ross is to get a "personal censor" who will shadow him as he makes his TV and radio "comeback" this month. It's apparently Ross's last chance; any repeat of the sort of behaviour which landed him in hot water a few months ago and the BBC will boot him out. The Manuelgate [TM] broadcast was deeply unfunny and the resultant furore was tiresome in the extreme - even before Daily Mail readers jumped on the outrage bandwagon and questions were being asked in "the House".

We know that Ross usually can't help himself, but it's his filthy "banter" with guests which makes his Friday Night With... show, at least, watchable. Take that away and there's not much left worth tuning in for. In such circumstances, Ross will simply revert to his one of his two other default settings; 1. asking his guests multiple, closed questions; or 2. jamming his obsequious, grovelling tongue right up their arseholes. Neither scenario appeals.

Providing Ross with a "personal censor" is a rather laughable affair (or at least it would be if this person wasn't going to be a further drain on licence fee money). I just hope Ross totally fucks it up and gets kicked out on his arse. Then, maybe, I won't even have to think of him ever again.

Lost the friends I needed losing...

This is a lazy YouTube embed - of sorts.

I must reassure you that it's not some kind of pointless, easy or sleazy attempt to get you to like the things I like, or to simply bump Avenues and Alleyways higher up the list of those blogrolls which produce a "running order" of most-recently updated tomes - no sirree. However, I do have a few things to get off my chest about this particular clip.

This advert is for Homecoming 2009 and has been doing the rounds on STV north of the border [TM] for some time now. "What the fuck," I hear you bellow in unison, "is the Homecoming 2009?" Well, in your own time, click to play the embed below to find out. As you will see (if you can bear to watch/listen to the whole sorry affair), 2009 marks the 250th birthday of Robert (Rabbie to his mates) Burns and, for some reason, that means that ex-pats, like Sean Connery, and other people from around the world who think they are Scottish because their ancestors had the good sense to fuck off from here centuries ago, are invited to return to their "homeland" to "be part of" (ie. buy tickets for) the many events and celebrations spread "across" (ie. throughout) the year. I hope this advert is being shown outside of Scotland then, otherwise there won't be to be much chance of anyone turning up from abroad.

Sure enough, it's a full programme alright. And one which will see the wealthiest of tourists spending a fortune as they travel around the country staying at expensive hotels, buying all manner of tartan tat as they go. At least, here's hoping. Homecoming 2009 is a thoroughly decent attempt to boost tourism and the Scottish economy in these difficult times and I'm certainly not knocking that. Neither am I knocking the fact that Scotland really does have a lot to offer; stunning scenery, great food, er... etc. But the thing that really raises my hackles (and anyone who remembers this post from September 2007 will know what's coming next) it's that way-too-fucking-serious, dour, chest-beating, jaggy Shetland wool jersey, tweed jacket, what's-under-your-kilt, Braveheart, Caledonia/Alba/Scotia BOLLOCKS that really does my fucking head in.

This embed features a succession of "weel kent" (and not so weel kent!) Scottish slebs reciting the words to Dougie Maclean's Caledonia - a song (and word) I utterly detest with all my heart. This embarrassing exercise in green screen fuckery does its absolute best to come across as a passionate and stirring call to arms, the "climax" of which is Lulu's heartfelt, clenched-fist, eyes-closed screeching, sounding for all the world like some totally fucking blootered granny who's just decided to serenade a pub full of drinkers; 10% of whom think she's got a great voice and is a bit of a "character"; 80% who are embarrassed for her; and the other 10% who are capturing it all on their mobile phones with the sole intention of uploading it onto YouTube as soon as they get home.

"We" patronise our-fucking-selves with this sort of bloated, self-important guff and I cannot fucking stand it anymore. In the unlikely event anyone's actually reading this, why not play the embed and then tell me what you think in the comments section?

We must perform a quirkafleeg

Meet the eleventh Doctor!


Matt Smith.


Did you guess right?

Tumbleweed

Breathe easy. I'm not "resting" Avenues and Alleyways or anything like that (yeah - you wish). I just happen to like this picture, that's all.

Besides, you all seem to have real lives and no-one is coming here anyway (apart from the disgusting pervert lurkers who continually land on this post from January 2007 by Googling for "Oh daddy, f*** me". Go on, fuck off you scummy bastards - you make me sick - the title of the post is nothing more sinister than a line from Suede's Metal Mickey).

Message ends.

Who's next?

After a couple of months of (predictably) fevered speculation, the identity of the actor about to become the eleventh Doctor will be revealed tonight (Doctor Who Confidential, 5.35pm, BBC1).

It always makes me laugh whenever you see speculative lists of actors (and, usually, comedians) who are allegedly in the frame for picking up the keys to the TARDIS [TM]. It's all good fun, I suppose, and it certainly seems to capture a lot of people's imagination. Of course, aside from (I expect) a very close-knit bunch involved with the show, nobody will find out the name of the actor until the BBC is good and ready.

Whoever it turns out to be, David Tennant will be a very hard act to follow. Never was a man more born to play the Doctor than he; he has clearly relished playing the role. Before Nu-Who hit the screens in 2005, if you'd asked me who my favourite Doctors were, I'd have said, "Pertwee and then (T) Baker - in that order!" These days, I put Tennant and Ecclestone way out in front. To say Tennant "hit the ground running" in 2005's The Christmas Invasion, would be an understatement. The BBC seem to have been very good to him too, allowing him the opportunity to take starring roles in a number of one-off plays and dramas, not to mention his "residency" at the RSC. I am sure he will not be short of work and he has already proved that he is believable in any number of diverse roles.

It's sad that Tennant is going, but in your heart of hearts, you know he's absolutely right. As he said in October when he announced his departure at the National Television Awards, "If I don't take a deep breath and move on now, then I never will." And things would ultimately become very stale as a result. So we've got another year's worth of Tennant, with Russell T Davies in charge.

2010's Doctor Who will be very interesting indeed; not only will there be a brand new Doctor, but also - oh yes - Steven Moffat will be in charge! Now there's something to really look forward to.

The thinking man's lager

Now... heh, heh, heh... I've never claimed to know much about birds (nudge, nudge etc), but I *think* this is a kestrel.

It's only a couple of days since I said that maybe I should stop just sticking my camera out of the window and start taking some decent snaps and yet, this wee beauty pops up on our back fence seemingly from nowhere. Unfortunately I couldn't get a decent photo with the regular digital camera, so I used the camcorder instead. I know it's not the clearest of images, but it was certainly one of those moments I didn't want to miss.

If there are any avid ornithologists reading this who can confirm that this is, indeed, a kestrel (or identify it as something else), then do please leave a comment and let me know.

Fly Kes. Fly like the wind.

Black and Blue 010109

Nobody "suffers" from hangovers these days, do they?

Apparently, those who like to indulge heavily when one year ticks over into another, will be "nursing" hangovers today. Either way, I'm delighted (but not smug) to say that I am neither "suffering from" or "nursing" anything other than cyclists' arse. It's a common condition - feels like bruising - which normal people refer to as being "saddle sore".

So, I'm feeling dead worthy (but definitely not smug) that I went out for a nice, leisurely two hour "jaunt" this morning. Yes, it was bitterly cold, but it was also beautifully sunny and once the power of the thermals kicked in, had it not been for all the thick frost everywhere, you wouldn't even have known it was only about three degree centigrade.

I did indulge last night, but not heavily. It's just that when I woke up this morning with the sunshine beating in the window, I thought it would have been a real shame to waste it by mooching around doing sod all. The Loony Dook is really not for me - these people must be insane (even if it is for charidee), so a bike ride it was!

The journey was lovely. Whilst I was saddened to see a dead cat when I was out and about, my spirits were lifted significantly by a sign which told me I was less than two miles away from Slack. Yes... Slack. I've never heard of the place before, but it does sound rather inviting in a kind of you-really-shouldn't-but-you-just-can't-help-yourself sort of way. I don't do New Year resolutions, but I have promised myself I will visit Slack before the year is out. Just you watch me...

Have a happy 2009 (and a big happy 38th birthday to my mate, JM). Cheerio the noo.