Instant Karma!

A couple more Big Finish projects I’ve worked on have just been announced. They are:

Torchwood: Instant Karma

In the words of my co-writer James Goss: “Toshiko discovers a group with superpowers. Because it's Torchwood, they're operating out of a community centre, and they're not using their powers for good. Imagine if you could make the heads explode of people who annoy you. Would you use that power? Well, would you?”

Why did I want to write a Torchwood story? Well, mainly to see if I could. My feeling has always been that Torchwood’s format, for its first couple of years, was like a car that had been built in a rush. The whole show was put together so quickly there wasn’t time to go back and re-think things, there was only time to patch things up. I wanted to see if I could fix it, if I could make the format work. So why not pre-order it and find out?

The other project I’ve worked on is 

Jeremiah Bourne in Time

“Jeremiah Bourne is a boy with a remarkable gift. He can travel in time. Not by using a time machine, or stepping through a dimensional portal. It just happens to him, as though by accident. One minute he’s in the present day, the next, he’s a hundred years in the past, standing in the London of 1910.

Jeremiah has two questions; how did he get there – and how can he get back? On his quest for the answers, he enlists the help of Phyllis Stokes of The Society for Theosophical Research and her equally eccentric brother, Roger Allcot Standish, magistrate, spiritualist and dedicated nudist. He encounters the sadistic Mr and Mrs Grout and the ruthless Ed Viney, thief, gang member and slitter of throats. And he arouses the disapproval of Clementina Quentinbloom, the head of a home for ‘Fallen Girls’, by befriending Daisy Wallace, a girl ahead of her time.

Can Jeremiah get home? What is the connection between Clementina’s establishment and Doctor Henry Davenant Hythe, the humanitarian and eugenicist? And does Jeremiah’s gift of time travel have something to do with his mother’s sudden disappearance, all those years ago...”

With this project, I had the great pleasure of working with Nigel Planer on his story as script-editor. It’s a really interesting, original, idiosyncratic adventure with loads of interesting ideas and themes bubbling away, and some fabulously larger-than-life characters. Nigel has written lots of great parts for his fellow actors – and what actors they are, the cast list is like a who’s-who of British television! If you could go back and tell my teenage self that one day I’d work on a script performed by two of The Young Ones, Lord Percy, Miss Babs, Lydia the Bride, Shona Spurtle and Charlotte from the Le Bureau des Étrangers my head would probably have exploded. It exploded a little bit now.

You can find out more about it here and pre-order it here.

In addition, while I have you, don’t forget to pick up the latest Doctor Who Magazine, it has another of my Blogs of Doom by me. I think it’s slowly winning people over. Slowly but surely!

Don't Panic

Just finished reading The Frood: The Authorised and Very Official History of Douglas Adams & The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Jem Roberts. I’m an Adams completist, you see, which shouldn’t be that difficult, unless you are pedantically thorough about it, which I am. From where I’m sitting I can see the radio script book, the Comic Relief book and the American edition of Life, The Universe & Everything I bought because it has a page which isn’t in the UK edition.

This biography builds on, and mostly supplants, the earlier biographies by Neil Gaiman and Nick Webb. Pretty much all of Adams’ contributions to Gaiman’s Don’t Panic are in The Frood, and it revisits all of the ground covered in Wish You Were Here a little more thoroughly, due largely to the fact that Roberts has had access to the Adams archive.

This, has to be said, was the main selling point of this book for me. In the appendix there are a few pages cut from the Hitchhiker’s novelisation, extracts from the largely-abandoned first draft of Life, The Universe and Everything, mostly various false starts, and some discarded ideas from Mostly Harmless. It’s all interesting stuff, and there are some witty lines and potentially mind-boggling ideas, but it’s all clearly been rescued from Adams’ bottom drawer.

While the books’ coverage of Adams’ pre-Hitchhiker work and the genesis and success of Hitchhiker will be familiar to readers of the other biographies – and MJ Simpsons’ meticulous critical biography Hitchhiker – thanks to the archive material it casts new light on his work in the early ‘80s. There are tantalizing extracts from Adams’ script for the first episode of the second TV series of Hitchhiker and his first draft for the film (full of lengthy, witty and almost entirely unhelpful scene descriptions). While there isn’t much more to be discovered about his Dirk Gently books or Last Chance to See, it also reveals a few tantalizing notes about Adams’ ‘trying to grill a steak’ years, where it turns out he found time to develop half-a-dozen or so other projects and to write screenplays for Starship Titanic and Dirk Gently. If they come to nothing, it would be lovely to see them published (alongside Adams’ drafts of the film and his scripts for the TV Hitchhiker’s).

Following on, the other area where The Frood breaks new ground is in detailing Adams’ surprisingly (and uncharacteristically) prolific posthumous career. What comes across very strongly is that these projects are not borne out of a desire to cash in or fleece the fans, but borne out of the fact that Adams’ work (and his own humanity) has inspired so many people to pay tribute by carrying on his legacy, whether by making radio adaptations, a film, stageshows, novels and novelisations, or by checking up to see whether all those endangered species he visited in 1989 are still around.

Of course, I have one or two quibbles. The author occasionally referring to Adams as ‘The Frood’ is cutesy and irritating. Also cutesy and irritating is the borderline illegible handwriting typeface used for some extracts of Adams’ work; I can only assume this is some sort of attempt to confound people trying to scan it in.

And it wouldn’t be an Adams book without containing a little that was apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, in this case repeating the story of people queuing around the block for a signing of the Hitchhiker’s novelisation at Forbidden Planet; as MJ Simpson exhaustively covered in his biography, it didn’t quite happen like that.

In addition, wearing my Doctor Who pedants hat (accurately speaking it’s more of a cap than a hat) there were a some bits on his Doctor Who work where I raised my eyebrows with a thought of ‘Really?’ For example, it makes the common – mistake is too strong a word but it’ll have to do – of overlooking that Graham Williams claimed to have co-written Shada; similarly, I’d be wary of attributing any specific lines from City of Death to Adams given how much ‘plumpening’ of the script went on by Tom and Lalla. There is also some doubt about whether Adams wrote the feeble comedic opening scene of Destiny of the Daleks – Terry Nation was happy to take credit for it until he realised that people didn’t like it – and, finally, K-9 is not actually in City of Death.

Everybody's Talkin'

This week sees the release of Doctor Who: Babblesphere, another audio adventure by yours truly, and the latest instalment in the ongoing Destiny of the Doctor series. It’s narrated and performed by Lalla Ward, (who I’m sure you know played Romana in the TV series in the late 70s) with Roger Parrot playing various supporting roles and all sorts of marvellous evocative sound design by Steven Foxon (it’s a combination of audio play and talking book, a bit like Big Finish’s Companion Chronicles series but narrated in the third person).

I’m told that Lalla enjoyed the recording – I wasn’t there, alas – even going so far as to say that it was one of the best Doctor Who stories she’d done not to be written by Douglas Adams. I report this not to boast – well, maybe a bit – but just as a reminder to myself, when I’m having my next long, dark, night of feeling utterly devoid of talent* that it wasn’t always the case. I’m also told that she liked some bits so much she read them out to her husband, the inspirational Richard Dawkins. So that’s quite a high recommendation.

The story concerns the decline and fall of an Earth colony in the distant future, where the adoption of an extreme form of social networking has resulted in tyranny. It’s not the most subtle of satires ever written! It’s a little bit Douglas Adams-y in style (mainly through trying to evoke the Doctor Who stories upon which he worked, rather than his writing style) and maybe it’s the sort of thing he’d be writing (much, much better) if he was still around. It also includes numerous Doctor Who in-jokes and references, some of which are so obscure there should be a prize for spotting them.

It’s a story I’ve had ‘kicking around’ for a few years now (at one point it was even topical!). At one point it was going to be an audio adventure for Tom Baker, but something happened, and at another point it was going to be a comic strip, but again, something happened. I always thought it was one of those ideas that’s so obvious it’s inevitable that somebody would do it sooner or later, so that person might as well be me.

You can order the story on CD from AudioGo or as a download from Big Finish, and listen to (more or less) the first three minutes of the story here.

By way of a taster, here’s a glimpse of what might have been; the first page of the story when it was going to be a DWM comic strip called Witter way back in 2009. I only got as far as a synopsis with the rest of it, so this is all there is...

Doctor Who: Witter

Draft 1

PAGE ONE

Panel 1

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE MORE RAIN! NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS!

A futuristic city in a state of decay. Brutalist architecture. A block of flats, a cross between the San-Chi ghost hotel, and one of those hamster homes connected with tubes. Crumbling concrete daubed with graffiti, overgrown with lichen and straggling plants. Logan’s Run gone to seed. It’s overcast and raining heavily. Puddles in the walkways. In the distance, tube trains.

SHANE is looking out of the window whilst cleaning his teeth. He’s skinny, 20, and wearing pants and a t-shirt. His hair is shaved in a crew cut. His eyes are bleary and vacant; not like a zombie, but as though he hasn’t slept for weeks.

Beside this frame, there’s a box listing the ongoing responses, like a list, each prefixed with a small icon of someone’s face, or a playful cat, or an identifying symbol.

BOX TWO:

DERRICK66 WHAT DID I DRINK LAST NIGHT? OR, MORE TO THE POINT, WHAT DIDN’T I DRINK LAST NIGHT! LOL!

Panel 2

Inside SHANE’s flat. Futuristic mod-cons in a state of disrepair. Plates in the sink. Books, magazines and discs scattered. Barely a spare inch of floor or sofa space. SHANE is fixing himself breakfast, yawning as he gazes into the fridge – in which there are a series of identical white foil takeaway containers.

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE CORNFLAKES OR TOAST? CAN’T DECIDE! #BREAKFAST

BOX TWO:

TRISHBABE CHANGED HER RELATIONSHIP STATUS TO ‘IT’S COMPLICATED’.

THECLIVEMEISTER NOT GOING TO WORK. HAVE LAZAR FLU. ALL SNEEZY. :-(

Panel 3

SHANE’s incredibly dull morning continues. He’s gone for cornflakes, which he munches as he gazes up at a television – a black and white portable – fixed high up in the far corner of the room whilst he absent-mindedly scratches his arse.

Reveal that SHANE has a small computer-chip implant on the side of his head,

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE HAS A HEADACHE. ODD. FEELS FUNNY.

BOX TWO:

LUCY74 SENT TRISHBABE A HUG.

MYNAMEISBARRY IS HAVING SAUSAGES. OM NOM NOM. #BREAKFAST

LONELYDAVE CAN’T GET OVER LAST NIGHT’S EPISODE OF THE FLEX.

Panel 4

Suddenly, SHANE is staggering, weak, a dazed look in his eyes, forehead frowning. He’s not quite dropped the cornflakes, but the milk and flakes are sloshing out of the bowl.

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE FEELS LIKE MY BRAIN IS ON FIRE!!!

BOX TWO:

DERRICK66 KNOW THE FEELING, TOTALLYSHANE! LOL!

BIGBELINDA HAS LOST ONE KG. FOR THE WIN!!! (LUCY74 LIKES THIS.)

TIMF003 DON’T GO GIVING ME SPOILERS, LONELYDAVE, NOT SEEN IT YET!

Panel 5

SHANE collapses to the floor, screaming and writhing in silent agony, as though he’s having an epileptic fit, as smoke pours out of his ears, eyes, nostrils and mouth.

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE OMG! OMG! OMG! AAAAARGH! EPIC FAIL!

BOX TWO:

THECLIVEMEISTER CHOSE HIS TOP FIVE MOVIES FEATURING MONKEYS.

MYNAMEISBARRY FRIED TOMATOES. OM NOM NOM. #BREAKFAST

GOSS0074 POSTED A PICTURE OF HIS CAT EATING A BISCUIT.

Panel 6

SHANE’s corpse lies on the floor, still smoking, face-down in his cornflakes bowl.

BOX ONE:

TOTALLYSHANE IS OFFLINE.

* Every night except Tuesdays.

A House In The Country

Today sees the release (hooray!) of Doctor Who: The Auntie Matter, written by yours truly, and starring Tom Baker as the fourth Doctor, Mary Tamm as his companion Romana. It also features a fabulous guest cast, consisting of the legendary Julie McKenzie (of Marple, sitcom and Sondheim fame), Robert Portal, Lucy Griffiths, Alan Cox and Jane Slavin.

The story is set in 1920s Hampshire and is a kind of a what-if, the what-if being ‘What if PG Wodehouse had written a Doctor Who story in 1978?’ Well, The Auntie Matter endeavours to be the answer to that question. It’s a frothy, silly, summery, farcical comedy, but with grisly undertones. I’m immeasurably proud of it and can’t recommend it too highly; you can download it from this site, and I hope it brightens your day. I think, through attempting to channel the voice of the master, it contains some of my wittiest writing.

Sadly, of course, this release is overshadowed by the knowledge that Mary Tamm passed away soon after this series of Doctor Who audio adventures were recorded. There’s a very moving tribute to her included on the end of the CD/download.  There’s not much more I can add, except to say that it was honour to write for her and to hear her performing words I had written, and performing them so beautifully, so precisely, with such joyful lightness of touch. I feel privileged to have been associated with her, even in a small way. We Doctor Who fans love all the actors and actresses from the show dearly, and I hope Mary realised how admired and appreciated she was.   

Into The Museum

August is going to be a bit of a quiet month for me, blog-wise, as I’m a bit busy with stuff. Imagine me as Neville Shunte from the Monty Python sketch, but instead of making train noises, humming the Doctor Who theme and wearing a multicoloured scarf. Because that would be an entirely inaccurate mental image.

Anyway, I have a few things to plug. First up is barely a ‘me’ thing at all, more of a recommendation. And what I’m recommending is a visit to the Cartoon Museum to see their exhibition of Doctor Who in comics from 1964-2011. I think it’s about a fiver to get in. I was lucky enough to be invited to the gala opening and was so impressed with what I saw I will be going back again, as a punter, for a proper long look.

Fortunately for me, the exhibition concentrates largely on my favourite form of Doctor Who comics, those published in Doctor Who Weekly, Doctor Who Monthly and latterly Doctor Who Magazine, by Marvel and latterly Panini. There are loads of lovely pieces by the legendary Dave Gibbons and the no less mythical John Ridgway, with most eras of the comic strip covered very thoroughly, all the way up to the present day. Which is where I come in – the Museum has on display the original pencil artwork by Roger Langridge for my Planet Bollywood! comic strip, plus a couple of pages of artwork by Martin Geraghty from the story The Golden Ones. I felt very proud and had my photo taken. It’s a pity there’s not any examples of artwork by Rob Davis or Dan McDaid there, but it seems churlish to quibble when presented with such a surfeit of riches.

It’s very illuminating, seeing the original artwork for things. I’d always assumed most artists worked on A3, with their work being shrunk down to magazine size, but Roger Langridge works on A4, and even pencils in all the shading (where other artists will just draw an outline and write ‘x’ to indicate lots of black.) You can also see how important the inking and colouring process is to a strip; the skill is in bringing out the best of the original artwork, adding more texture but without overwhelming it. David A Roach and James Offredi are the guys who ink & colour the current Doctor Who Magazine comic strip and both do a fabulous job.

It was also fun, at the opening, to actually meet Martin Geraghty, who is currently drawing my next story for Doctor Who Magazine, and who I’m pretty sure I hadn’t met before, or if I had met before, it was at a party where I met so many people I didn’t remember any of them. I like to think this makes us like the legendary collaboration between Pat Mills and Joe Colquhoun on Charley’s War, where the writer and the artist never met, but now we’ve blown that comparison by actually meeting.

Speaking of Pat Mills, he’s going to be discussing his work on the Doctor Who comic strips at the Cartoon Museum on the 4th October, along with Scott Gray and, er, me. It will be like that Frost Report ‘class’ sketch but with ‘class’ replaced with ‘talent’. I know my place.

But please, come along. And if you’re in London, definitely visit the Cartoon Museum anyway, it’s well worth it.

I'm Going Slighly Mad

Finished watching Bonkers on DVD, a comedy drama thing from a couple of years ago starring Lisa Tarbuck and written by the genius Sally Wainwright, the best writer in television at the moment. I know, ‘comedy drama’ makes it sound dreadfully half-baked and fairy-lights-on-the-stairs but it’s what comedy drama should be – where the comedy is big, silly and funny and the drama is heartbreaking and suspenseful and it’s all about beautifully well-drawn characters all played by great actors. It’s the sort of thing that ITV has done very well over the past decade, largely by employing Sally Wainwright and Mike Bullen.

The premise of the show was a bit Life On Mars; Helen (Lisa Tarbuck’s character) is having a mid-life crisis, having discovered that her husband of twenty years (Mark Addy) has been having an affair with a teenager with whom he has fathered a three-year-old baby. The next day, her film star of her dreams, a Hugh Grant figure called Felix Nash, appears in her kitchen. Only she can see or hear him. On top of that, her son is sleeping with the neighbours, her brother has burned down his house and is being investigated by the police for the murder of his fiancée, her other brother is unhappily married to a woman who is convinced he’s gay, while Helen’s boss at work is in love with her... if only soap operas were as fast and rude and imaginative as this. Throughout, everyone is drinking copious quantities of red wine, and it all ends with a wedding; the two obligatory requirements of an ITV comedy drama.

I don’t remember it doing particularly well, I missed one or two episodes at the time so I’m guessing it was badly scheduled, but it’s certainly up there with At Home With The Braithwaites, Jane Hall and Unforgiven.

Search For Tomorrow

Hero time again. Roger Joseph Manning Jr.

He first blipped onto my pop music radar in the early 90’s. He was one of the two important ones in the sublime combo Jellyfish. A band that was possibly a little too clever, and certainly way too retro, to ever trouble the pop charts. The early 90’s being a bleak era, music-wise. Too much bad techno.

Jellyfish wanted to be The Beatles. And Queen. And The Beach Boys. And pretty much every other band from the 60’s and 70’s. All at once. Their greatest three and half minutes were ‘The Ghost At Number One’. Check out the video. Roger is the one who looks like Neil out of the Young Ones.

As is so often the case, just as I started getting into them, they decided to call it a day. They’d written a song for Ringo Starr, and after that, where else can you go? So Roger started up another band, Imperial Drag which very nearly had a hit with ‘Boy Or A Girl’ but didn’t.

Around the same time, Roger was – much more entertainingly – messing around with analogue synthesizers. The results being The Moog Cookbook’s two albums of contemporary and classic rock hits performed in the style of a late-60’s novelty moog record. They are sublime. The joke never wears thin.

Somehow this led him onto doing mind-bogglingly excellent remixes and collaborations with the Eels, Beck, AIR. He then decided to release a soundtrack album for an un-made sequel to Logan’s Run and form another band, TV Eyes, while doing the tunes for Lost In Translation.

And now, recently, he’s put out two-ish solo albums, The Land Of Pure Imagination and Catnip Dynamite. Which are, basically, I-can’t-believe-they’re-not-Jellyfish albums. I’d recommend them, but I like them being my special secret.

The Forgotten Man

Hero time again, and possibly a controversial choice. Chris Langham.

Chris has had a pretty remarkable career. He wrote for Spike Milligan and the Muppets, he fails not to giggle at Michael Palin in The Life Of Brian, he was one of the Not The Nine O’Clock News team. He wrote and starred in Kiss Me Kate, one of those shows where nobody appreciated how good it was at the time. He starred in the sublime People Like Us. He was BBC 4’s Mr Dramatized Biography.

He was one of those peripheral comedy people in the 80’s – someone who was always good, but who, for some reason, wasn’t getting the parts. As it turns out, it’s because Chris had troubles with drink and Bolivian marching powder. But he was still brilliant; his After Dark segments of Alas Smith And Jones were (if you’ll overlook the cliche) a masterclass of comic timing.

And, a few years ago, he wrote and acted in Help, one of the wisest, funniest, most honest, most moving sitcoms ever. It probably won’t ever be repeated, which is a tragedy, not just for viewers, not just for Chris, but particularly for Paul Whitehouse who gave a lifetime-best performance. In fact, he gave dozens of lifetime-best performances. The whole show, performance and writing, was stunning.

But then, just as he was getting Seven Second Delay off the ground, he did something which was, to say the least, mind-bogglingly stupid. Something which made him tabloid pariah number one. Something which ended his career just as it was getting started.

But he’s done the time, he’s more than paid the price, and I, for one, would love to see another show written by him or starring him. And I’d love to work with him. Because he’s still a hero.

Rock The Boat

Red-letter day, a Richard Curtis movie. Would The Boat That Rocked disappoint the guy who thinks LoveActually is The Greatest Film Ever Made?

No. It was great. Hilarious, heart-warming, exciting. All the familiar faces from Curtis’s previous films (playing largely the same characters) plus the cast of the IT Crowd. It’s a loosely-plotted ensemble piece where each character has an up, a down, and another up. Ralph Brown reprises Danny from Withnail and I; Tom Sturridge does a fine job as Hugh Grant, and Philip Seymour Hoffman takes a part obviously written for Jack Black and does something much more interesting with it.

Weaknesses? Well, it’s not a romantic comedy. The female characters are underwritten, with no motivation other than to seduce our heroes and break their hearts. I suppose you could say it’s embracing 1960’s attitudes.

My other two quibbles are firstly that there is little sense of time passing, because although the film takes place over a year, it’s always summer, even when we cut away to radio listeners in the UK. I’m guessing this wasn’t done by choice or an oversight, but a budget issue; after all, part of the romance of pirate radio is the thought of them broadcasting through wind and hail.

Quibble two is the conclusion. The final irony of pirate radio is that the stars it created rapidly became part of the broadcasting establishment. I’d like to have seen that. It could even have given the antagonist, Ken Branagh, some resolution; he could've been given the job of running Radio One and we could’ve seen black-and-white snaps of the cast on the steps of Broadcasting House with their former nemesis lighting their cigars.

Oh, and it should’ve been called Rock The Boat. And why isn’t there a boat on the poster?

Jeremy

We all know of Jeremy Bentham the social reformer, the campaigner against slavery, the champion of the rights of women, the advocate of animal rights, of the decriminalisation of homosexuality, and the orginator of the philosophical school of utilitarianism – ‘the greatest happiness of the greatest number’.

But what often gets overlooked is that, whilst he was doing all these things, he was also writing for Doctor Who Weekly. Whilst he would spend most of the day developing the principles of government and civil liberty, during the evenings he would put all that aside to write up synopses of early William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton adventures and compile ‘Fact Files’ for such august luminaries of the silver screen as Jackie Lane and Richard Franklin.

Sometimes, inevitably, his two roles would become confused. Who can forget the edition of Doctor Who Weekly where the ‘Matrix Data Bank’ included a critique of the work of John Stuart Mill? Or when, in his ‘Fragment on Government’, he broke off from a discussion on the merits of free trade to answer an inquiry from the ubiquitous Graeme Bassett of Grimsby to identify all the monsters seen in flashback in The Mind of Evil?

The influence of Jeremy Bentham on Doctor Who fandom is immeasurable. Without his nurturing influence, it wouldn’t be what it is today – yes, it’s all his fault. Remember that next time you’re passing his stuffed remains in the cloisters of University College, London. That’s why Doctor Who fan gatherings were called Panopticons; not, as you might suspect, as a reference to the capitol of the Time Lords, but as a tribute to his concept of a prison where the prisoners feel they are being constantly stared at. Which, having been to a couple of conventions, is a pretty accurate description.

Superstar

Hero time again. One of the greatest thespians of our age. The actor Ian McChin.

Now, techically speaking, I realise that isn’t his name. If you’re looking for him up in Spotlight, or typing his name into IMBD, you should use the name ‘Ian McNeice’. But in this house, and in any house in which I inhabit, he will always be known as Ian McChin. Because – and I can’t stress this too strongly – he has the most phenomenal double chin you will ever see.

I’m not mocking it. Quite the opposite. If, when I am his age, I have a double chin of similar size and consistency, I will consider my life to have been a life well-lived. There is no better way of emphasizing a dramatic statement than by accompanying it with a wibbly-wobbly second chin.

McChin’s been in loads of things, usually playing a Victorian gentlemen with gigantic sideburns – he’s brilliant in the BBC’s Harry Potterfield – but recently he’s moved towards playing ancient Romans. Well, let’s face it, when you look as good in a toga as he does, it’s a no-brainer. He was the regular highlight of Rome, playing the newsreader, vogue-ing his way through the events of the day in an historically authentic fashion.

The thing is, so few actors nowadays know how to be overweight properly. People aren’t fat now in the way they were in Victorian times. Back then, I’m guessing because of drinking port, men would develop spherical bellies whilst their legs remained spindly-thin. Like Mr Bumble, or Mr Pickwick, or Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Only Ian McChin and Richard Griffiths have shown true dedication by getting chubby in an historically correct manner.

He’s brilliant. More power to Ian McChin and his amazing double chin!


Next week: My other favourite actor, Michael Fenton-Vicars.

Odessey And Oracle

If you’re a fan of 60’s music, you’ll know the oh-so-familiar roll-call of the classic albums of the psychedelic era; The Beatle’s Revolver, The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society, Pink Floyd’s Piper At The Gates Of Dawn. Nothing by The Rolling Stones or The Who. Oh, and there’s Love’s Forever Changes, but that only has one decent song on it. Plus, at a push, The Pretty Things’ SF Sorrow, The Small Faces’ Ogden's Nutgone Flake and the Moody Blues’ Days of Future Past.

But there’s another one – an album as good as Revolver and Pet Sounds. An album which solves that perennial problem – you want to listen to an album like Revolver but you’re a little bit tired of listening to Revolver itself.

Well, you should seek out Odessey And Oracle by The Zombies, the classic psychedelic album that time forgot. It didn’t do very well at the time and has still never received the claim it deserves. Because, despite the spelling mistake in the title, it is seriously pukka.

It opens with Care Of Cell 44, a song which would’ve been a hit had it not been a love song about a girl writing to her convict boyfriend. A Rose For Emily has a beautiful, For No One-ish melody. Changes is I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-Syd. This Will Be Our Year should be the most famous song of the 60’s – simply, catchy and touching. And there’s Time Of The Season, which was almost a hit thanks to having percussion which sounds like a table-tennis tournament. Plus seven other great pop songs. The only dud – the obligatory crap track that’s found on every classic album – is the Butcher’s Tale; I’m guessing, what with it being the 50th anniversary, The Great War was very zietgeisty around then.

She's A Millionaire

Writing heroes? Well, some of the time I think I’d like to be Douglas Adams (but alive). Other times, Steven Moffat. Other times, Russell T Davies. Very frequently, Aaron Sorkin. Occasionally, Joe Keenan, David Nobbs, Richard Curtis or Jonathan Coe. I’ve been known to want to be Mike Bullen... the list goes on, no doubt to be addressed in future bloggerings.

But first on the list is Sally Wainwright. The greatest writer working in TV today. She’s just brilliant. At everything. Plots, character, dialogue, comedy, drama. Imaginative, daring, compassionate and wise. She’s never put a foot wrong, except possibly with the Re-Telling of The Taming Of The Shrew – but, hey, Shakespeare couldn’t get a decent story out of that plot either.

Her first thing, after working on a show called Children’s Ward (a show which seems to have been massively influential but which passed me by completely) was At Home With The Braithwaites, featuring my future wife, Sarah Smart, and making a star of Julie Graham. It was genius. Followed by Jane Hall, The Amazing Mrs Pritchard, Bonkers and now Unforgiven, which I haven’t seen (has anyone ever got ITV player to work?) but will no-doubt get on DVD.

Common factors? Series ending on precipitous cliff-hangers –a great idea, though one that unfortunately doesn’t seem to guarantee a second series commission. Plus high concepts, great, gutsy, fallible-but-strong parts for actresses, and vast amounts of sex. Everyone is in love with someone who they’re not shagging with whilst not being in love with the person they are.

But what really shines through – what makes her scripts so great – is her love for her characters, and a joyful but scandalously naughty world-view.

That’s why she’s writing hero number one. Please let the rumours about her taking over Robin Hood be true.

Get On The Bus

This blog will be used for me to witter on about my heroes of stage, screen, music, politics, science, history and pen. But first a tribute to some unsung real-life heroes.

Night bus drivers.

They’ve saved my life a number of times. When the beer scooter ran out of juice, they were there for me. They put up with me not quite being able to talk or trying to use my Maestro as an Oyster card. They don’t mind if I cradle my head in my hands and moan drunkenly to myself. They get me home.

And I’m one of the nice ones. Seeing the stuff they have to put up with – the lary, loud-mouthed idiots who haven’t got any money, or who want to hold the bus doors open for their mate, or who don’t understand the concept of ‘full’. The teenage girls who think they are the next Girls Aloud when they stand a much better chance of being the next Roly Polys. The slick young hippetty-hoppetties who think they’re in downtown LA. The backseat widdlers.

So applause to the N-crowd. Thanks in particular for not minding that Christmas where I decided to sing ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ doing all the different voices, with my friend who thought every next line was ‘And tonight thank God it’s them instea-ead of yooooo.’ I’m not kidding. It was;

‘It’s Christmas time, there’s no need to be afraid...’

‘And tonight thank God it’s them, instea-ead of yooooo!’

And thanks, most of all, for that time at university, where I staggered up to the bus driver’s booth late one night after a cocktail frenzy. ‘Excuse me,’ I slurred. ‘Can you stop the bus please, I think I’m going to be si-‘

I never did get to finish that sentence. Sorry.