No flying ashtrays but
Murray from Flight of the Conchords looks like a youngish Gareth Evans.
Murray from Flight of the Conchords looks like a youngish Gareth Evans.
Posted by Mistress Bel at 9:09 am 5 comments
Labels: a thought shared is a text spared, Flight of the Ashtrays
For the first time in my existence I am without a daily serial, nothing on wireless, television or the world wide web. Poor, feckless Bel.
I stopped watching Neighbours a while ago. It had become so dull without the Timmins family, there was not enough carry-on with Lou and Harold and too much of: ruddy Carmella and her tedious nervy b's, Paul being "he's- a-good-boy-now" and that vile Jane Hall. It had lost its high campery and mental melodrama. I guess they are saving their best storylines for Pantos in Blighty. Recently I was told that Neighbours had improved but when I attempted to watch some of it before the 7 o'clock news my interest was not piqued. Well apart from seeing Paul attempt to rekindle romance with the character played by Jane Hall;he pretended to fall over and hurt himself. That was sheer Actoring master class with Stefan Dennis.
Despite that one glorious moment, it could be all over between Neighbs and me. Actually it could also be the end of Neighbours; ratings are bad.
Despite the lack of daily serial, there are programs that I watch and listen to on a weekly basis. My favourites are generally panelish shows where people humorously and dismissively opine and compete, such as Top Gear and the Insiders. Top Gear initially drew me in as it looked like Top of the Pops for cars - the sight of those presenters standing beside a car, raving and joking while surrounded by a studio audience was very appealing. Am not sure about Australian series, could be like Torque but I will be in the market for a motor (plus i always watched Countdown). I rather enjoyed watching Never Mind the Buzzocks on You Tube for a while. Some episodes from last year and the year before that were entertaining. And I'm partial to that news quiz on radio 4 (?). That can be very funny unlike the Australian Good News Week.
I cannot believe that show is on television again!! Why do stations keep giving Paul McDermott air time to recycle shows from his “heyday”. What does he have on them? And why do they allow him to sing the shows' signature tunes? And how could he do that? I guess he hasn’t twigged to the parallels between him and the Little Britain Dennis Waterman skit. Dennis has a much better voice anyway, and he was tops in the Sweeney, well I like him in everything from Up the Junction to New Tricks, well sort of. Did Rula get him a spot on the Rock Follies? That would have been some showstopping tune. Unfortunately I have never seen Waterman's portrayal of William Brown.
There is a hastiness of cooks on the television but I haven’t really been into those programs, there will only ever be one King’s Kitchen after all. Admittedly the 21st century cookery show is a whole new genre. I generally prefer reading cookery books and recipes. However, I quite like watching the cook and the chef. Maggie Beer’s manner reminds me a bit of that woman Megan who sang for the Fifth Corruption (not the fifth column that’s what the Duke of Edinburgh called Lady Di). Oh and Flight of the Conchords makes me laugh aloud oh and I ….
Posted by Mistress Bel at 8:30 am 6 comments
Labels: blethering fool, gwen meredith and queenie ashton, television can be a very special friend
On Tuesday I was treated to a night at the theatre - opening of Altarboyz.
JQ got tickets and, being a notorious sponge, I was invited. Musical had been described to us as a comedy so we assumed it was going to be a biting satire about boy bands and religious fervour. We sat there listening to the lyrics, waiting to squeal with mirth. There were people in the left stalls, laughing, must have been relatives, or perhaps it was too sophisticated for me. The lyrics were terrible, not really borne of any great theological knowledge (you know like Nick the Prick’s prose) just a mixture of Good News and sap. The parody was so feeble that the lyrics seemed to be promoting the faith.
Comedy consisted of the boy band members, a Jew (too funeee), a Hispanic, who seemed to be playing Fez from that 70's show, a closeted homosexual, a homeboy (Oh like I’d know... is that term still au courant? no doubt as ac as ac...) and some Doogie Howser type 'cept he wasn't a genius young docteur just looked like him, frequently grabbing their crotches, which is of course as heeeeeeeelarious as cancer, yours J. Blank, saying y'all and doing something else, um, recounting how they came to be together and …?
It was truly appalling.
Then there was a song sung by the camp altar boy and it was implied that his solo was to be a confession of his homosexuality but no it was a clever parody, and he announced that he was Catholic. The audience proudly cheered, some standing up and waving their arms and clapping. It all seemed strangely and sincerely evangelical. It gave us the creeps. We left and went to the bar.
I have since been told that the musical could be performed for the Pope when he comes to Sydney. That can't be true or have I been caught up in World Youth Day propaganda? Divine justice has struck. Gordon Benedict and jeepin' Jensens.
Posted by Mistress Bel at 2:27 pm 1 comments
Labels: BJLS (also known as CF) birthday, lame-O, obtuse, po-faced
Last night I watched the first disc of Warren Beatty’s Reds. I’m enjoying it, particularly the eyewitness accounts by Dora Russell and Rebecca West, and Henry Miller. Really great. I’d like to watch an entire interview with Dora Russell and Rebecca West – such interesting, forthright and entertaining personalities.
Anyway while I’m really appreciating the film, rather engaged with a pretty amazing story, I keep getting sidetracked by Warren Beatty, there’s something about his face, or should that be his character's face, that reminds me of Jerry Seinfeld.
Posted by Mistress Bel at 9:21 am 2 comments
Hooray!
No bungers, Tom Thumbs or Catherine Wheels in NSW but i can cope; i guess i could get some sparklers (goodness a few indywindy bands named themselves after firecrackers - ooh crackle and pop!)
Firecrackers were always a bit too terrifying really, so full of ire, and almost as worrying as the possibility of being blinded by that annular solar eclipse in 1971.
There has been rain in Sydney and along the NSW north coast for a total of 5 days and 5 nights!!This has caused reporter types to bleat about the very long spell of bad weather in poor old Syd. Oh get with the strength! They earnestly drone about the much needed rain then cluck about the farmers but as soon as there is a mammoth downpour that lasts FIVE DAYS there's grumbling and grief during the wireless and television weather forecasts.
This Queenie's I have loads of activities in store, have gumboots and puddles will rage, and visitors a- plenty. What more could you want? A republic... with Quentin "Lovey Howell" Bryce as President ...?
Happy Queenie's to you!
Posted by Mistress Bel at 1:36 pm 0 comments
Labels: Bosoms Begley wants a reunion -with YOU, firecracker night no more
Oh nsrs, have you seen that Shine a Light? I have not. I don't really want to but I guess i will. Surely, tt'd be less of a wank and more divertin' than one plus one - one great band on the threshold of superbrilliance (no Mick Taylor yet) and one Frenchie over analysing and boring us boeuf big-time.
The French and rocknroll, somebody please keep'em apart.
But, permission to rant, suh, what i really want to say is:
Why when talking about Marty and the Stones, does everyone, well Mickey J, go on about Marty using Gimme Shelter in his fillums. I didn't think it was that common on a Scorsese soundtrack (oh sorry for that interjection from foot not dissimilar from bottom corner...)
Marty's best use of stonesy music was in Mean Streets, which is of course a top little fillum. I loved it so much i tried to spread the word as i do with most things i 'm keen on.
So one year i got a friend a copy, direct from the Amazon, for her birthday. Unfortunately she was sent a dud. And when i found out, it was too late for me to sort it for she was too polite to tell me, Shane did. I guess Shane broke it; shredding the tape with his gnashers in some drunken crazed out jiggy moment at an anarchic punkywunky new wave retrospective atop some oh&s nightmare of a rooftop bar in Mel Bourne
Yeah Mean Streets is tops. i was stoked from the moment Charlie (? played by Harvey Keitel) enters this smokey dank bar and tell me is playin'. Then when crazy Mickey(? -it's been a while since i seen it, oh JOhnny Boy, thanks Shanks played by Bobby de N) arrives, jukebox plays jumpin' jack flash.
Thus providing like a total insight to the characters of the key protaganists....Ooh yeah mind-blowingly deep as Tim and Debbie would say (can you believe there are still people who talk like that?! Hi Astrid. Of course you can, they host programs on RRR and JJJ and are now infiltrating RN, and pop goes the weasel you're listening to newsradio of a morning to avoid right-on central).
Oh like i'd know anything about music and fillum. Those two songs were chosen just because Marty loved 'em. (Marty released a great Stones compilation lp called Just because, Marty; lp has copious liner notes).
I love tell me. It might have been a bigger hit in the States than in the UK - perhaps it was on that US December's Children. It might also be on high tide green grass. I encountered it in God's Own of course, 12 years later.
It was on this Decca compilation that was heavily advertised on the television one summer when i was in primary school. The lp was called Stones. Its cover featured a black and white photo of a prancing barechested Mick with his pout coloured crimson. It was a pretty good compilation and introduction to 60's stones for an Orstralian tween, yours David Dalton.
It was a really long summer and i spent most of it waiting to be invited to swim at the neighbours' pool or watching mother riley films on the television after being banned from the neighbours' pool for being too noisy - Oh my life's been spent in Coventry....
In the evening I did impressions of mother riley and others from my extensive repertoire, as part of variety hour, well just younger sister and I performing - oh such simple times. On the evenings I no longer had a willing audience, i'd chuck a spaz (not really, well occasionally, oh a couple of times per week) and then go and listen to that Stonesy LP, which had been finally bought after seeing all the ads in between mother riley and mac and myer. I endured mockery of stones by considerably older new waver of a sorella. I am still younger.
Languid,louche and filled with inertia?
Posted by Mistress Bel at 6:57 pm 6 comments
Labels: 'ong kong star, paddy chayefsky, redwineismymadeleine