On Fire

+++ APOLOGIES +++ MINORITY INTEREST POST +++

So. Torchwood.

The Doctor Who spin-off returned for a third outing last week in a lavish new 5 part story that was broadcast every day, Monday through to Friday.

I was, I admit, dubious.

Series one and two of Torchwood were disappointing. Like a chocolate cake that just wasn’t quite chocolaty enough (the diet coke of sci-fi). Good ideas were there – but were spread to thin. The acting was good but the scripts were frequently weak. The stories built up nicely and then were abruptly deflated as Russell T Davies pulled yet another lame solution out of an all too convenient hat.

Deus ex machina done as cliché.

It was too lightweight. Which was a shame as Torchwood had promised much in the early days. Something meaty. Something more adult than the family oriented Doctor Who… but it seemed to fall at the second fence.

In various interviews writer Russell T has admitted he had neither the time nor the ideas to fully realize series two. It showed. The series was patchy and frustrating. So often nearly there… but never quite.

And here they were for series 3 – promoted to BBC1 no less. Somebody high up at the Beeb obviously had faith in them.

In my opinion that faith was at last validated.

Torchwood: Children Of Earth was as close to a sci-fi masterpiece as I’ve seen on terrestrial telly for a long time. Fantastic script, a plot that set the nerves jangling and disturbed the emotions and a proper gut wrenching finale that, while inevitable, left you gasping. It was harsh. Very harsh. But a good harsh.

I’m not going to spoil the plot for those of you who haven’t yet seen it yet (I’m aware that Torchwood makes it out to the US and NZ among other places) but the storyline dealt with some very difficult subject matter. Parenthood, our children and our desire (and our failure) to protect them. Self serving politicians. Child abuse. The rich / poor class divide. Bigotry… and for once Russell T didn’t pull his punches. He followed the dark path to it’s horrible conclusion rather than bottling out at the eleventh hour. It wasn’t pretty.

But it was truthful.

One particular scene where UK politicians decide the grisly fate of millions of children reminded me of the meeting the Nazi’s had to formulate their “final solution”. An entirely deliberate reference point, I’m sure, and of course it added a ring of truth to the entire premise: such a meeting taking place wouldn’t be that outlandish. It’s happened before. In living memory. Civilization is a very thin veneer plastered over a bubbling magma of waiting anarchy.

And as history shows it doesn’t take a lot to puncture the crust.

It made for uncomfortable viewing. Maybe having children myself over-sensitized me? But the idea of the state not just interfering with my children but claiming ownership of them for its own ends really upset me. Again Russell T was tapping into very real, very relevent fears – how much personal autonomy can anyone really have in a nanny state that is always looking over our shoulders for our own good? Who does the family unit really belong to? How far would you go to protect your kids? What if following the parental instinct to protect your kids at all costs became treasonous?

Dark, dark ideas. Which is exactly what I want from sci-fi. It should be far fetched, futuristic, in turns utopic and dystopic. But most of all it should be relevent to the here and now.

It is interesting to note that John Barrowman (Captain Jack Harkness) was not at all enamoured of the decision to reduce Torchwood to a single five-parter. He’s been very public in announcing his displeasure, feeling that the show has been punished in some way, deliberately constrained.

Well I can recall a tutor of mine telling me that true creativity comes out of constraint, out of limitation. It is a good thing. It should be embraced.

I think Torchwood series three is the proof of the pudding. Rather than a run-of-the-mill 12 part series that misses as much as it hits, we had An Event. We had something that has sadly disappeared with the advent of cable TV and iPlayers and “watch whenever you want to” telly. We had something that millions of people watched at the same time and talked about the next day in anticipation of the next part. It was a good move by the BBC. A clever move. It reminded me of the time in the mid eighties when ITV lost the rights to broadcast the Olympics and so instead bought a US mini series called “V”. It was a ratings success. Everybody sick of the wall-to-wall Olympic coverage on the BBC tuned in to it. Everybody tuned in together. It became an event.

I don’t know where Torchwood will go after this. My hope is that we will see more five parters like this. I’d rather see five lavish, top notch, intelligent, adult episodes per year than a 12 episode series that constantly flounders beneath its own padding.

Last week Torchwood finally delivered.

First class.

I’d like to place another order please.

Battleships

So it’s now officially a pandemic. Though not many people in the media are as yet using that terminology. All to spare us the degrading activity of panicking en masse I suppose.

Swine flu arrived on these shores with a great furore and hoo-hah and then almost immediately blended into the wallpaper as The Great Expenses Debate peppered the MPs in the Houses of Parliament with their own richly scented excrement.

We didn’t exactly forget about it. We just didn’t want to deal with it. Not really. We’ll deal with it later, we thought. When we actually get it or when someone we know gets it.

And like a game of battleships the shells have landed ever closer and closer and now we’re all starting to get a little bit soaked by the resultant spray.

Apparently the World Health Organisation (WHO) has recently decided to raise the level of influenza pandemic alert from phase 5 to phase 6. Not sure how many phases there are to go but it sounds very worrying. The number of flu related deaths has also increased. 14 so far in the UK according to one report.

People reactions to it have been bi-polar to say the least. On the one hand you’ve got people who have recovered from it shrugging their shoulders and saying it was no worse than normal flu and on the other you have people like the receptionists at my doctor’s surgery who, during a visit my wife made there last week, barred entry to a man who was panicking because he’d merely been on an airplane with someone who had swine flu. They actually kept him standing on the doorstep rather than allow him to come inside.

Despite all the information flying around the situation remains confusing. And confusion breeds fear far more effectively than keeping people well informed.

For my part – currently struggling with a sore throat, headache and a gummy ear – I’m not too bothered. I have no idea whether I’m coming down with a normal cold or the big SF and don’t care. A couple of days in bed sounds effing great. I’m otherwise fit, healthy and well nourished and am confident I will fight it off should it get me.

But my kids I do worry about. Ben especially is at risk due to his asthma. And Tom is barely 21 months old and has been hammered by every cold going since starting at nursery a year ago.

And still the water plumes rise ever closer...

It’s tricky. Do you wish to get it over with quickly or try to keep yourself disease free for as long as possible? Do you pray to get it now while the vaccine is still available and the doctor’s workload isn’t too great... or do you leave it until the whole country has come to a standstill and there are looters carrying off the latest iPods from Currys?

I guess it’s elementary. There is no choice. It’s fate. The will of God. Luck. Whatever.

You certainly don’t invite all your friends’ kids round for a “flu party” as some parents have been doing according to newspaper reports earlier in the week.

It’s one thing to have your battleship holed by a stray shell. Another to sink it yourself with your own guns.

Gordon, Will You Stop Calling Me At Home?

You’d think Gordon Brown, our glorious PM, would have better things to do than to keep calling me all the time, especially when all he’s selling (by the sounds of it) is dodgy debt management facilities. But no, morning noon and night I’m plagued by his unwanted and unasked for telephone calls. I can guarantee that as soon as we get Tom down for a sleep or a midday nap the sodding phone will ring and the recorded message will kick in once more.

Recorded message? Yes...

See, Gordon isn’t actually calling live.

And, if I’m honest, it isn’t actually Gordon.

But the posh voice on the other end of the line is very keen to let me know that he’s calling from a “Government backed” debt management company, so Gordon Brown is definitely in the loop somewhere.

(Government backed? Makes me think of coups in other countries for some reason... hey ho...)

The annoying thing is if you hang up they just call back the next day. If you dial 9 as requested to be removed from their call-list you just know your telephone number has now been confirmed as “live” and other cold callers will start snaking their way through your communications defences. And dialing 1471 (caller ID) only presents you with the galling announcement that the originating number has been withheld.

So they get hold of my number to harass me but withhold their own number so I can’t trace them to complain?! Gits!

In the end I’ve had no choice but to bite the bullet and dial 9. So far so good. Nobody else has rung but it’s another black mark in Gordon’s copy book to my thinking.

All I need now is to find out that I’ve been charged for the bloody calls. I imagine it’s a great way to generate revenue.

Or maybe Gordon is paying for them himself on his expense account?

Now that, folks, is real debt management.

The Shame

America elects its first black president...

For the last 7 days Europe and America has been commemorating the anniversary of the D-Day landings, a time when nations pulled together to stand against bigotry and racism. ..

And yesterday Great Britain awarded the BNP two seats in the European Parliamentary elections.

The entire nation should hang its head in shame.

I mean, who in their right mind voted for these BNP idiots? Anybody care to own up?

No. I didn’t think so. Which makes their election all the more puzzling.

How has it happened?

Is an economic downturn all it takes for people to lose their thin veneer of humanity and jump on the bandwagon of bigotry?

Can people not see the appalling danger in any ethos that has at its heart the xenophobic desire to “save [insert the name of any country here] only for me and mine and people who look like me and mine”?

Plainly not.

History is evidently an ineffectual teacher.

Worse.

History is an appallingly ineffectual supply teacher. It means well. It wants to teach us really important stuff but its authority is completely lost on us. We just want to muck about at the back of the class, go out to break early, bunk the day off and then moan and blame other people when everything eventually goes tits up.

My wife’s reaction to the news was to wonder aloud if maybe it was time we got out of this country.

Mine was to opine that if the BNP got any more toe-holds people like us – proud liberals – might not have any choice in the matter.

From now on I’m going to be keeping one eye on the political landscape and one on the cheap suitcase shop at the top of town.

The reputation of the UK is currently staggering beneath the weight of a long knife in the back. I’d hate to be there if it ever topples over.

WTF?

It’s been in the papers. It’s been referred to on TV. But I’m amazed that more people aren’t making a fuss about it.

Maggie Thatcher is to be given a state funeral when she dies.

No effing way!

Am I the only person to think this is an unspeakably horrendous idea? That woman deserves to be burnt at the state, hung, drawn and quartered and her head impaled on a spike outside the NHS HQ.

A state funeral? Utter grotesquery!

Churchill got a state funeral and deservedly so. He was a crap peace time PM but he unquestionably steered this country through the dark shadows of its biggest crisis. Maggie Thatcher on the other hand pushed this country into crisis and then kept us there... and we’re still trying to dig ourselves out of the hole her stiff-necked mismanagement got us into.

Thatcher crushed the unions to the detriment of all working citizens. I blame the entire UK privatization fiasco on Mrs Thatch. The money grabbing paranoia that still infects much of this country also started with the Thatcher administration.

We are still living under her shadow, still trying to dig ourselves out of the crap she sank us into.

This woman does not deserve a state funeral. Sorry. She just doesn’t.

Pickle her body for medical experimentation if you must. Bury her at sea if you want her out of the country for good. Chuck her in a landfill if you want to be green.

But don’t waste millions of pounds of OUR money carting her rotting skeleton through the streets of London in a horse drawn carriage, expecting us to throw rose petals beneath the wheels as she passes us by.

Possibly the only good thing about having her body lying in state for a few days is that it will enable (as better comedians have already pointed out) the average hoi polloi to view her corrupting remains and rejoice in the fact that she is at last finally dead.

But they better keep a mop and bucket handy too - cos there’s gonna be a helluva lot of spit flying about if I get anywhere near her.

Strike!

I’m off work for the next two days. Not for reasons of illness or a need to swing the lead, you understand, but because I am throwing my weight behind a noble cause.

I am on strike.

I – along with my staunch union colleagues – have decided to take a stand against the appalling pay offer that the current Government has thrown at us like crumbs from their wine drenched table.

Pah! We laugh at your miserable 2.45% offer when the price of even the most basic of foods is slowly rocketing skywards!

We’ve essentially taken a pay cut for the last three years running and now enough is enough.

Do I think we’ll actually get the 6% demanded by our union executives?

Not a cat in hell’s chance.

But if we don’t ask (or in this case, demand) we don’t have a hope of getting any more.

I realize there are inflationary pressures holding the Government back – nobody wants to see the country spiralling into recession – but we’ve all got to be able to afford to live. And at the moment I’m as close to the wire as I’d like to come. And that’s even with taking in extra work at home.

I don’t even have a problem with food prices going up. Farmers have had a crap deal for years and years and most, despite the image most people have of them, have made loss after loss for so long that many have gone under. What we’re now seeing is a readjustment that has been a long time coming. Ironically if we’d valued our farmers more in the first place and had allowed them to make a decent living I’m sure these food price hikes would have been felt less sharply.

There are global readjustments too – the global economy is in a huge state of flux. This isn’t Gordon Brown’s fault by any means and I don’t hold him personally responsible.

But I do blame him for not allowing me to bring home a decent wage.

Don’t tell me how not to waste food, Gordon. Karen and I already make every meal stretch into two. Just throw some more moolah my way so I can pay the ruddy mortgage!