Television Can Blow Me Read online

  Kathreya, 30, is a fat Buddhist Thai massage therapist. From Thailand. 5 foot 4 and 400 stone, Kathreya made an immediate impact as the early favourite. Whether she maintains this early form depends upon exactly how annoying her screeching and giggling becomes. What do you reckon?

  Sylvia, 21, is a devious double-dealing shitbag inside the house who came to the UK aged 11 when civil war broke out in her native Sierra Leone. Reports that she started it are almost definitely true.

  That’s your lot. I’m off to watch the football. Peace.

  The verdict on Big Brother 2008: In gradual decline.

  Marks out of 10: 6

  Big Brother 2008: Stuart tapped the compassion vending machine and it toppled over and fell on top of him

  Attention seeking eyeliner-wearing muscle mary mouthbreather Stuart was the focus of last night’s Big Brother. Noteworthy only for looking like an extra from 300 he has bilge for personality but the paranoia brought on by years of self abuse finally provided some entertainment. After the world’s worst poet Belinda and a couple of other mopes heard some inconclusive shouts over the fence, word got around that a syllable sounding something like ‘cha’ was discernible. So Stuart naturally assumed that it was the phrase “GET STUART OUT”, that the entire outside world hates him and that life wasn’t worth living. If only anyone gave a fuck enough for that to be true.

  There followed some spectacularly unconvincing crying for the camera from Stuart, Belinda (bafflingly feeling responsible in some way) was on some Billy Bragg shit like “I am the milkman of human kindness - I will leave an extra pint” and suddenly burst into tears while trying to reassure Chicken Stu. This was the last thing he expected.

  All of a sudden, it was Stu comforting Bellender. A wobbling mass of tear streaked emotion that he had no idea how to deal with (quite apart from not having the inclination). Fat Bex came along and watched in mute incomprehension (well, mute by her standards - the tubby fuck only squealed twice).

  Stu stumbled upon a brilliant exit strategy. “I need a shower” he said, even though he’d just stepped out of one.

  Bellender’s incredibly altruistic display of emotion was of course all about her. A way of showing how compassionate, empathetic and generally brilliant she truly is. In attempting to emotionally manipulate the house, Stuart had stepped into the dojo with a Zen master of specious bullshit. The overfed maudlin fuck gave Stuart a clinic in passive aggression he won’t forget. Until he runs out of eyeliner.

  X-Factor 2005

  After last year’s thrilling finale between G4’s classy poperatics and the cheeseball stylings of Steve Brookstein, (booed at his first gig after emerging victorious, who says this doesn’t lead to success?) X Factor returned in bullish mood, confident of a winning formula. And well they might be - they stole it from Pop Idol after all (if you believe Simon Fuller).

  Having whittled away the lunatics, no-hopers and nearly men, the judges were left with the 12 grateful finalists. It was a Who’s Who of Who’s That? Something Aerial Telly is glad to help out with

  4Tune - The lantern-jawed yankophiles were the band of the year. Unfortunately, the year was 1991.

  Addictiv Ladies - A missing vowel and a missing chromosome did for these generic R&B turds.

  Andy Abraham - He’s a smooth dustbin-swinging brother with a voice like liquid gold.

  Brenda Edwards - Gigantic flagcracker who sings the arse off everyone each week.

  Chenai Zinuku - Attention-seeking crybaby who thinks the world owes her a living because she reached boot camp stage last year.

  Chico Slimari - Laughably poor Ricky Martin wannabe with feet of clay and tonsils of tin.

  Journey South - Twin pronged blandathon, all vocal harmony and rousing choruses - will go far.

  Maria Lawson - Talented but suffered from being black, female and married. Got voted off by evil Oirish mafia Godfather Louis O’Walsh to save The O’Conway Sisters.

  Nicholas Dorsett - The worthy heir to chin beast Craig David, sang like a tit when it mattered.

  Philip McGee - Utterly clueless rabbit in headlights, quickly put out of his misery in the finals.

  The Conway Sisters - Spent approximately 0.13 seconds in tune in their last performance, a personal best.

  Shayne Ward - known by millions as “that boy off the telly”, Shayne is Justin Timberlake’s retarded kid brother who they kept under the sink until he was 15, listening to Boyz II Men records.

  Ostensibly, this is where things get interesting between the acts but the key battles take place between the judges. They spend most of their time undermining the others’ abilities as mentors and in fatuous point-scoring - which is terrific fun, of course.

  Hymen Cowell speaks the truth but his “sounded a bit karaoke to me” insults are becoming a touch played out. It’s nonetheless been funny to watch his increasingly bemused reactions to the Cult of Chico Time (Slimari’s contrived catchphrase and debut single).

  Louis Walsh, on the other hand, is a hopeless people pleaser, way too concerned with what the audience think of him. His pussying out in picking the O’Conway Sisters ahead of Marie was as spineless as a performance from a judge as you could imagine. What a hapless tool he is.

  And Sharon Osbourne couldn’t play more shamelessly to the gallery if she were Freddie Mercury - not once does she go against the general audience feeling, an audience consisting largely of the act’s families and friends. Way to defeat the whole purpose, Sharon.

  As we approach the finishing straight it looks like it’s most likely between Shayne, Journey South and Andy. Like Steve the Cheeseball they won’t have much of a career. Brenda probably deserves to win. She definitely won’t. Cowell will win his legal case and all be well in the world of X Factor. Don’t fight it - some things were simply meant to be.

  The verdict on X-Factor: New Faces with ‘tude.

  Marks out of 10: 7

  X Factor 2008 - sob stories bring misery to millions

  The return of X Factor should always be welcomed. It’s a great format that produces laughter, tears and distress to the innocent. Though the real story of the early rounds of X Factor 2008 is the increasingly dreary and dubious sob stories that are clogging up the audition stages.

  The first episode had a 17-year-old girl from Bridgend framing her fame lust as some kind of mercy mission. “Because of all the bad press that Bridgend has had recently I just think that getting through would be a good bit of news that we need”. Eh? Oh, I get it - Bridgend the graveyard for 22 whingeing adolescents. Well, that’s just what the parents need: a rendition of My Light Shines On every Saturday evening. Truly, the living would envy the dead.

  It was no surprise when the girl revealed that cocksmoking producers coaxed her into talking about the Bridgend suicides and she could give nary a fuck about the emo holocaust on her doorstep (can you blame her?) It was a laughably tenuous link in the first place and it was quickly followed by 23-year-old call centre worker claiming to be gripped by a burning desire to make his biological parents proud. Turns out this was a load of old balls as well.

  Even more bizarrely, there was the 26-year-old mother of five who was addicted to crack at 13, fitting in heroin addiction among the way. As unbelievable as the story was, it was the only authentic one of the three. And the dumb fuck could sing too.

  Some touchy-feely biography is inevitable on a show like X Factor but the focus on the increasingly surreal tragedies and hardships is becoming tough to bear. At this rate, Job from the Old Testament would be a shoo-in for the final with a rendition of one of those Oh Lordy spirituals Moby sampled. Chrissie Hynde was on some “it is time for you to stop all of this sobbing” shit and the girl was spot the hell on.

  The verdict on X Factor 2008: You’re through to the next round.

  Marks out of 10: 7.5

  Gong intermission

  Aerial Telly Awards 2008

  It’s 2008 and television is stronger than ever. The corollary of this is that Aerial “Money” Telly, tel
evision in corporeal form, begotten not made of one being with the telly, also came back stronger than ever. And here he is once again with his annual awards to make and break the careers of those working in the industry. Fools tried to cause trouble for Aerial Telly but it’s an eternal truth that punks jump up to get beat down. All they did was further highlight his genius, tenacity and adaptability. You can’t test him, serve him or duplicate him. Motherfucker, what?

  Best show: The Inbetweeners

  E4’s sixth form comedy The Inbetweeners was little watched but loved to tiny pieces by those who did. The brilliant evocation of schoolyard humour and the pinpoint observation of shit friends, lame parties and bad sex that make up adolescent life were a joy to behold and Aerial Telly’s strong endorsement of this ensured it got a second season which will be required viewing for all you douchebags.

  Worst show: Bonekickers

  In 350 odd reviews only one show had received 0 out of 10 from Aerial Telly and that involved that turd Rory Bremner. Bonekickers became the second show to enter this particular hall of shame and man did it ever earn it? From its unshakeable and utterly unwarranted belief in its own relevance to its hateful characters, scenery chewing performances, cocksmoking dialogue, fundamentally retarded premise and cloying liberal self-hate it was an abortion of a show and anyone who tells you otherwise needs murdering, decapitating and their head stuck on a spike on Traitor’s Gate.

  Best performance by a male: Bryan Cranston as Walt White in Breaking Bad

  When you help redefine situation comedy with the greatest family sitcom ever you may feel your work on Earth is done. But not Bryan Cranston who put in a career-best performance as terminally ill chemistry teacher Walt White entering the drug trade in the brilliant Breaking Bad. Aerial Telly interviewed Bryan Cranston earlier this week so expect that to hit the shelves in 10 days time and further bolster the show’s burgeoning reputation.

  Best performance by a female: Glenn Close as Patty Hewes in Damages

  There she goes again - playing a maniac. But Glenn Close is no fool and, rather like when she turned up on season four of The Shield, she knew she was backed by terrific writing on Damages to augment her singularly intense performance as the sociopath lawyer Patty Hewes who, I should remind you, does not play.

  TV pie of the year: Christina Hendricks

  Steph Song in jPod gave Aerial Telly chills that were multiplying. Mary Louise Pierker had him a blast in Weeds. But ultimately Christina Hendricks in Mad Men was the one that he wanted. Aerial Telly may have mentioned his feelings towards Hendricks in passing in the Mad Men review. As one of the characters in season two says “she is just so much woman”. No fucking arguments there, chief

  TV Event Of The Year: The Wire Series Finale

  The tense climax of this phenomenal show was pulled off masterfully. The cycle of violence, retribution and incarceration continued unabated. Heroes died, villains prospered and, in a couple of cases, people made the right decision to get the fuck out of the game. It was sad to see it go but TV is forever changed by this extraordinary project.

  See you next year, suckers. Regardless of war, famine or apocalypse Aerial Telly will just keep on coming. Count on it.

  British comedy: the highs and lows and why it blows

  The British have a tradition of producing funny fuckers. Great British comedians are legion and whether they came from the working men's clubs, vaudeville or Cambridge Footlights it's a tradition they are rightly proud of. For the British, being funny is a life goal. So it's always a puzzle when a bag of shit like The Persuasionists or PhoneShop rolls up, splits its seams and spills its unholy poop payload over our screens. How did they ever get made? Were people too scared to speak out? And why do ITV so horribly fuck up almost every sitcom they touch?

  No single man can definitively answer these questions. Unless of course that man is Aerial Telly, television in human form, begotten not made, of one being with the telly. Jesus Christ but you're lucky to have him.

  My Family: Reloaded

  Some sitcoms write themselves. In the case of M*A*S*H, Father Ted and The Office it’s because the characters are so acutely drawn and their relationships so expertly infused with tension that comedy flows effortlessly from every situation they get into. In the case of My Family it’s because of the poverty of aspiration of the writers and the remorseless insistence on sticking to the family sitcom formula.

  There must be other sitcoms less suited to a clips show but I can’t think of them offhand. My Family: Reloaded provided us with various scenarios from the six-year run of the show. Ben and Susan Harper (luvvie stalwarts Robert Lindsay and Zoë Wanamaker) have the utterly predictable sitcom relationship. A stressed, middle-class man manipulated by his dominating wife. Ben is a dentist by day and a mild-mannered misanthrope by night - a diet Victor Meldrew. Susan is also misanthropic but more inclined to get excited about furnishings and the like.

  I’m not sure where the comic conflict between the two is supposed to be. Margaret Meldrew could not have been more different from her husband - she was a civilising force and comic foil in the relationship. Ben and Susan are too alike to have convincing arguments. Every row seems contrived and the put-downs could have been scripted for any one of a hundred sitcom couples.

  They have a thick son, Nick, played excellently by Kris Marshall. In the first series Nick looked to have potential as a great comedy thicky. He may never have been Trigger or Dougal but it was the biggest loss to the show when he went to look for serious acting work like those BT commercials. He has a face built for comedy.

  The honeypied Daniela Denby-Ashe plays Janey, the wayward stroppy daughter effectively enough. Her malleable morals and unapologetic sexuality are the closest this show gets to subversion. It would be interesting to see what she gets up to past the watershed and not just for the obvious reasons.

  There’s another son who I, and the rest of the viewers, really couldn’t give two fucks about.

  The clips came and they went: Ben being punched, Nick entering the room in stupid outfits, Michael playing at soldiers, Nick snogging his father, disturbingly. Nothing really raised a smile despite the best efforts of the sulphate-cranked studio audience who choked with laughter at every pratfall and telegraphed one-liner.

  There’s not lot I can say about My Family - it’s a sunny day and I have a life to lead. It isn’t the worst family sitcom around. Tragically, it’s probably the best British one. Comparing it to the genius of the recently deceased Malcolm in the Middle just amplifies its shortcomings. There will be several more seasons to come. Count on it.

  The verdict on My Family: It’s just there.

  Marks out of 10: 4

  The Persuasionists

  You want to know the really terrifying thing about The Persuasionists? They knew. Every one of them. Daisy Haggard did Psychoville, Green Wing and Man Stroke Woman. Adam Buxton - he did The Adam and Joe show. He’s funny. Simon Farnaby worked with Chris Morris. Iain Lee, um, introduced Sacha Baron Cohen. Co-producers Iain Morris and Damon Beesley wrote The Inbetweeners. And, ignoring his joyless, pious Twitter feed, script editor Andrew Collins is a really good writer. They know the difference. Can you imagine them waiting for this to go public? The shame, the fear, the self-loathing? Dragging this career timebomb along with them for all those months? And you think the Haiti footage is harrowing?

  So yeah, the rumours are true. The Persuasionists is eyepoppingly poor and I’m going to blame the writer/creator Jonathan Thake. Most of the others have been involved in something good and his only notable claim to fame is the Pot Noodle “Slag of All Snacks” campaign. That thick-eared Kevin Bishop yobbery is certainly present here. He’s created soundbite situation comedy - slogans and jokoids buffed and polished, utterly unrelated to each other, situation, story or character.

  The upshot is we are in an ad agency. Billy (Iain Lee) is the ideas man; Greg (Adam Buxton) is the no-ideas man; Emma (Daisy Haggard) a pretty vacant trollop; boss Clive (Jarred Christmas)
is a larger-than-life Australian; Keaton (Simon Farnaby) is a madcap foreign office lothario (think Kramer meets Colin Hunt). As if you need telling, it’s a wacky ad agency where anything goes.

  It’s located firmly in Sitcomland - that magical place where people say and do things you only see in sitcoms. It’s trying to be The IT Crowd but Graham Linehan is a master who has an atomically precise grasp of sitcom fundamentals and plays with convention brilliantly. The Persuasionists principals just butt up against each other like West End holograms appearing in different shows. Behavioural non sequiturs abound.

  Simon Farnaby as Keaton is one of the worst cases of miscasting since Christopher Ryan was hastily shoehorned in as Mike the Cool Guy in The Young Ones. It’s a shit name choice too. You’d be surprised how important the character’s name is. You know Nicholas Lyndhurst is Rodney Trotter before you’re even introduced. But none of the characters here resemble their names. Turdly writing again.

  Jonathan Thake seems to have gone “wouldn’t it be funny/weird if....?”, collected a load of quirky, unusual and incongruent things and included every single one on the off chance that one might be funny. Loser Greg dates a model. The agency promotes Cockney Cheese. Emma sticks the ugly people in the boiler (geddit?!) room. He strikes out because none of this is funny. It’s a waste of a talented cast. It’s highly derivative. It can go fuck itself.

  The verdict on The Persuasionists: The slag of all sitcoms.

  Marks out of 10: 4

  Extras Christmas special

  Aerial Telly is a big Extras fan and always has been. Ricky Gervais is a comic genius and the sniping at him is mere envy from the dispossessed and that hack Jerry Seinfeld is not in his class. And as for those of you saying that The Office US is better than the original - blow me, you skunks. Motherfucker, it ain’t even on a level. The final ever Extras episode finds When the Whistle Blows continuing its underserved commercial success, theatrical agent Darren Lamb as clueless as ever and Andy as misery personified.