Ship Of Fools

Yesterday saw the release of another Jonny Morris audio adventure, featuring investigators of the infernal Jago & Litefoot in The Flying Frenchmen, the first in their ninth series of adventures. You can order it by clicking a series of links, starting with this one.

Obviously to tell you all about it would be to give away all the surprises. But I will say this. It is to Christopher Priest and parallel universes what The Theatre of Dreams was to Philip K Dick and virtual reality. ‘Entirely unrelated to’ being one potential answer.

One of the fun challenges about writing adventures set in Victorian times is the research. I mentioned a short while ago how incredibly helpful it was of Charles Dickens to make such detailed sketches of his time (under the guise of Boz). I should also give credit to the site The Victorian Dictionary, which I’ve had bookmarked ever since I wrote The Haunting of Thomas Brewster. It’s an invaluable  resource, particularly as it’s about documents written about Victorian life at the time so you’re leapfrogging a bunch of middle-men and cutting straight to primary sources.

Of course, Jago & Litefoot isn’t really set in the ‘real’ Victorian times, it’s set in the fogbound London of Sherlock Holmes and his ilk, a Victorian London of the imagination created in films during the twentieth century. I highly recommend Matthew Sweet’s Inventing the Victorians for anyone interested in what the 19th century was really like, and how it became mythologized. You can see the same thing happening with films now, creating a certain version of the 60s, all false eyelashes and mini metros and top hats, the 70s, all migraine-inducing wallpaper and everything being a murky greeny-brown, of the 80s, where everything, even run-down mining villages, are wildly colourful (particularly favouring salmon pink, the official colour of the 1980s).

The same applies with Jago & Litefoot, it’s set in a mythological, almost dateless version of the 19th century. Although we do specify that the stories are set in the 1890s, they don’t take place in the real 1890s, they’re more set in a sort of 1850-1900 version of the past (following the precedent of The Talons of Weng-Chiang). In reality the 1850s were as different from the 1900s as the 1960s are from today; Dickens’ London was very different from Doyle’s – but in the Victorian London of the imagination, the Artful Dodger walks the same alleys as the Baker Street Runners.

Anyway, new box set, four brand-new adventures performed by the fantastic Trevor Baxter and Christopher Benjamin, buy it now.

All Over The World

A new issue of Doctor Who magazine is out on Thursday, so this is my last chance to plug the current issue, for which I wrote a feature about the last ten years of the series called Ten Years At The Top, which contained the happy news that they are only the ‘last’ in the sense of being ‘most recent’, because there are probably another five years to come at least.

One of the most exciting things about doing the feature was that it contains quotes from new interviews with the great Steven Moffat and current BBC Controller of Drama Commissioning Ben Stephenson. I wanted to put together the best-possible feature to commemorate the show’s success, so I cast my net wide. Getting Ben Stephenson was a bit of a coup, but just reflects how warmly-regarded the show is amongst the upper echelons of the BBC. It’s hard to imagine Ben’s predecessors in the 1980s giving the magazine similar interviews.

The news that Doctor Who will be around for another five years or so got picked up by all sorts of news outlets, including BBC News itself. I found this a trifle unnerving, to be honest. I was worried that I might’ve misquoted someone or that I would somehow jinx things. Fortunately the article had been read, checked and approved by Steven, so it wouldn’t contain anything to upset the apple cart, but nevertheless, seeing something that means so much to so many people go so big was a bit scary. As I tweeted at the time, they didn’t make this much fuss over my Paradise Towers Fact of Fiction. I imagine it’s just me making up this stuff to amuse Tom and Peter at the magazine, I don’t imagine it actually being read by 30,000 strangers.

The brief for the article was a bit tricky, as it had to celebrate the last ten years, but not cover the same ground as Cav Scott’s feature from last year about how the show came back, and not to repeat my own feature on Doctor Who’s appeal, The Wonder of Who. So I concentrated on two things; trying to understand and explain why the show was such a success when it returned – all those things that it got right which seem obvious in retrospect – and what has kept it a success. One interesting thing was trying to nail down the difference between Russell T Davies and Steven Moffat’s writing styles; the thing is, they’re not that different at all, they both can (and do) write scripts which are unlike what might be considered their normal style, they can write in each others’ styles, there is a definite overlap. I know some fans find their approaches to be radically different, but I think that while they bring different things to do show, they are pretty much on the same page in terms of what makes good Doctor Who.

As part of my net-casting I got in touch with as many of the writers who worked on the show as possible, those who were part of bringing in back, those who have made the greatest contribution over the last decade, and those who are currently working on it. I couldn’t include all of them, with these things you always have to draw the line somewhere. But I am immensely grateful to all of the writers who were so kind as to take the time to respond – I mean, Mark Gatiss, Chris Chibnall, Toby Whithouse, they are huge names in television.

Alongside the article was a potted history of the last decade of Doctor Who, concentrating on the various ‘firsts’. For the chronology I also researched real life events, but there was no room for them (and who cares about real life?). So here they are instead:

2005

Tony Blair wins third term as Prime Minister; Live 8 concerts held; YouTube launched.

2006

Pluto re-designated a dwarf planet; Daniel Craig debuts as James Bond; Twitter launched.

2007

Gordon Brown becomes Prime Minister; BBC ‘Crowngate’ scandal; global financial crisis begins. 

2008

Boris Johnson elected Mayor of London; ‘Sachsgate’ scandal; Barack Obama elected US president.

2009

MP expenses scandal; Avatar released; Michael Jackson dies.

2010

Chilean miners rescued; David Cameron becomes Prime Minister; Eyjafjallajökull erupts.

2011

 “Arab Spring” uprisings; Prince William marries Kate Middleton; London riots.

2012

London Olympics and Queen’s 60th birthday; Shard completed; Barack Obama re-elected.

 2013

Meteorite crashes into Russia; Margaret Thatcher and Nelson Mandela die; Prince George born.

2014

Flooding in West Country; Scottish independence referendum; Philae probe lands on comet.

Avenging Angels

 

About a month ago, I did a signing at Forbidden Planet to coincide with the new edition of Doctor Who: Touched by an Angel being published. I didn’t mention it here at the time, but I plugged it repeatedly on twitter so you have no excuse. And what else can I say about the book? It’s still probably one of the best things I’ve ever written, certainly the best book, the story draws on my own life so is quite personal to me (and was cathartic to write) without ever being autobiographical (or anyone-else-ographical).

Anyway, you can find my original announcement about writing it here, the blog about it being published here (which includes a link to my fabulous Spotify soundtrack playlist) and there’s a deleted scene here. So today, inspired by the brouhaha about twenty years of Britpop, I thought I’d share with you my original notes for the novel.

As you’ll see, it’s more-or-less a list of contemporary references; not because I planned to include them all (though very nearly did, but wise heads who suffered the first draft told me to take them all out, thank you Matt Kimpton) but simply as triggers for my own memories, my own sense of what ‘then’ felt like at the time.

It also, of course, includes several ‘spoilers’ for the book, so don’t read it if you haven’t read the book yet (seriously, it’s been out for 3 years, in two different covers, on Kindle, on CD and in Italian, you have no excuse). And what’s interesting for me, if for no-one else, is all the bits that got changed or omitted along the way (i.e. one of their university friends coming out as gay, another one committing suicide, an appearance by the Angels on Bonfire night ). But the main thing is that in making these notes, it really helped me get to the heart of the characters and put flesh on the bones (sorry about the metaphor crunch); it was incredibly useful for me to write stuff knowing what was going on ‘outside’ of the books remit, both in the world and in the characters’ lives. I recommend it, as an approach.  Anyway, here goes:

Mark Jason Whitaker (born 23 November 1973) and Rebecca Annabel Jones (born 12 August 1974)

1993 May – So Young

Meet at Warwick University, Labour club, mutual friends party, hall of residence. Mark is going out with Sophie Kendall, Rebecca is going out with Dennis McCormack (and called Bex).  Get on really well, each pretends to be single when they both have significant others. Become friends. Dennis possessive, patronising, Sophie jealous, insecure. Bars at WU: Mandela’s Bar, Harvey’s Diner, Loxley in Westwood, Wayne’s World II, Tocil Lake, Saturday whip-round, The Airport Bar, computer rooms near library, Warwick Boar newspaper. Echobelly playing at Saturday whip-round, going to be bigger than Suede or Blur; Oasis played there the previous year, Sophie didn’t think much of them.

Events: FA Cup Final replay, 19 May, Arsenal 2 Sheffield Wednesday 1

Newbury by-election, Norman Lamont ‘Je Ne Regrette Rien’, unemployment 2.9million

Death of Charlotte Hughes. John Major prime minister. Sonia Better The Devil You Know Eurovision party. Adverts Reebok, Hale & Pace Clorets, Weetabix Robin Hood,Tango, Lion Bars, Wayne’s World video, Heineken. Boddingtons.

Shop at Safeway, Kwik Save. Usenet email internet.

Films: Groundhog Day, Indecent Proposal. TV: Press Gang, Men Behaving Badly, The Chart Show, Spitting Image, Going Live. Computer game Sega Megadrive. Mr Blobby. Tongue/lip studs. Shaved patterns on heads. Paintball. Chris Evans on The Big Breakfast. Steve Coogan. Jonathan Ross’ Saturday Zoo.

Other hits: Spin Doctors Two Princes, New Order Regret, REM Everybody Hurts, UB40 I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You

1994 June – Don’t Turn Around

Club-night, Friday. Mark living with Sophie, Rebecca (now single), Rajeed and Lucy Fisher. House in Leamington Spa, student digs, terraced house. Night out clubbing at the students’ union, rave music. Marketplace. Mark falls out with Sophie, walks home with Rebecca through campus to get night bus. Drunken kiss. Future Mark comes back, this is first time he sees them, earlier self, Angels in the club and on the campus. Both still in Labour club, have been on demos, also go to gigs together.

Reading Trainspotting, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. Yellow pages advert JR Hartley. Michael Barrymore live. Bodum coffee makers. Levis shrink to fit. Olde English Cider.  Portable CD player top present. Films: Four Weddings And A Funeral, The Hudsucker Proxy, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

TV Brookside Beth Jordach, The Day Today, The High Life, Don’t Forget Your Toothbrush, X-Files Adverts for National Lottery. Wonder Bra. Magic eye pictures. Fridge writing. Cilla Black. Michael Barrymore. Smell Of Reeves And Mortimer. Run up to European elections, after John Smith’s death, Tony Blair, John Prescott leadership election.

Other hits: Let Loose Crazy For You, Grid Swamp Thing, Wet Wet Wet Love Is All Around, Dawn Penn You Don’t Love Me (No No No)

1995 April – Back For Good

Mark still with Sophie, falling out, Rebecca now with Anthony, final year, exams, Lucy now with Jane, lesbian couple. Anthony rugby type, glowing red, cheeks, public school. Mark now in love with Rebecca, Sophie jealous about this, Mark has to deny it, he talks to Rebecca (now called Becky) about his problems with Sophie, just mates, best mates, asks her advice.

Kenny Everett dies of AIDS. Oklahoma city bombing. Adverts Organics, Chicken Tonight, Dime Bars with Harry Enfield. Ferrero Rocher. Cellnet. Reading Virgin Suicides. Internet yahoo, ebay, amazon. Films: Outbreak. TV A Bit Of Fry And Laurie (final series) Supermarket Sweep, Friends, Roseanne, Fast Show. Army surplus clothes, combat boots. Chris Evans morning show Radio 1.

Other songs: East 17 Let It Rain, Boo Radleys Wake Up Boo!, Corona Baby Baby

1996 February – Don’t Look Back In Anger

Wintry weather, living in Coventry, Mark splits up with Sophie at last, she’s already started going out with someone called Daniel. Mark working in telesales/data entry, having graduated, Rebecca doing a Phd in Ancient History (or Rubble).  She’s still with Anthony, not working out, they sleep together, when drunk, Rebecca the next morning says she’s with Anthony, doesn’t want to hurt him, pretend it never happened.

Reading High Fidelity. Docklands bomb DLR. British rail privatisation. Scott Report - Arms to Iraq inquiry – Matrix Churchill. Take That announce split. Diana and Charles announce divorce. Eurostar break down. Deep Blue beats Kasparov. Adverts Eurostar. Eurotrash presenter guy Antoine Des Caunes. Crunchy Nut cornflakes. Mobile phones everywhere from now on. Mercury Phones. Hooch popular from now. Film: 12 Monkeys TV Our Friends In The North, Ballykissangel, TFI Friday, Frasier, Game Sony Playstation, Father Ted, Alcopops, Stack trainers, Floppy White Hats, Inflatable chairs. Eddie Izzard. Mark & Lard in the afternoon. Zoe Ball.

Other songs: Lighthouse Family Lifted, Joan Osborne One Of Us, Robert Miles Children

1997 December – Angels

Run up to Xmas, Mark working in administration for Housing Association in Coventry, Rebecca away, Mark now with another girl, Kathy, not really working out. Depressed, is this all life is, but then his future self starts helping him out and improving his life (somehow!). Bumps into Rebecca in the shops, she’s now engaged to Anthony, congratulations, going away for Christmas, Mark going back to his parents, his dad’s not well, might have to spend Christmas in hospital, difficult time.

Britannia decommissioned. Reading Bridget Jones Diary. Kyoto protocol. Adverts Royal Mail. Megane Classic.  Allied Dunbar. Churchill Insurance. Carphone warehouse. Sony Minidisc. Internet websites start taking off. Reading Island of The Day Before Umberto Eco. Film posters: Titanic, Tomorrow Never Dies, in cinema Bean, Good Will Hunting. TV Robot Wars, Channel 5 first year, Fifteen To One, World In Action, This Morning With Richard And Judy, Computer Game Tomb Raider, Nintendo 64, Teletubbies, Henna tattoos, black-rimmed spectacles, mini rucksack bags. Tamagotchi, laser pens. Lily Savage, Jack Dee.

Other songs: Spice Girls Too Much, All Saints Never Ever, Teletubbies Say Eh-Oh!

1998 August – Perfect Ten

Rebecca and Anthony have split up shortly before going on holiday to Rome together, so Mark, who split up with Kathy back in February, around the same time as his father’s death, agrees to go with her. They’re sharing a room, visiting sights, doing the tourist thing, platonic. Future benefactor still helping him out, wallet stolen by Trevi Fountain, finds another, Angels in the Capitoline Museum, late evening, they see the sun setting over the forum, remark that for the first time both of us are single, shall we fix that? Kiss, fall in love, this is the moment their story begins. Rebecca is now called Rebecca.

News: Iraq disarmament UNSCOM teams; Monica Lewinsky Bill Clinton news breaks. Improper physical relationship. Opal fruits become Starburst. Internet Google starts. Reading The Beach, reading What A Carve Up by Jonathan Coe. Film: The Truman Show, There’s Something About Mary TV So Graham Norton, Time Team, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, South Park, Ally McBeal, Harry Enfield, Zoe Ball in mornings.

Other songs: Boyzone No Matter What, Stardust Music Sounds Better With You, Corrs What Can I Do

1999 November – Love’s Got A Hold On My Heart

Mark and Rebecca moving in together in flat in Kensal Rise, North London. Still very much in love. Renting a place near the station. Saving up for a wedding. All very stressful, moving house, but they’re okay, not falling out. Fireworks night. Angels visible on the street, in adjoining garden. Millennium approaching.

Gary Glitter in news. London eye in position. Christmas present, first three Harry Potter books. Mars probes lost. Adverts Woolworths. C & A. Cocopops. Barclaycard.Vodafone. Sony camcorder. Natwest. Kit Kat chunky introduced. Reading Underworld by Don DeLillo: Films: Fight Club, The World Is Not Enough, posters Sleepy Hollow, Stuart Little. TV Walking With Dinosaurs, Cold Feet, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, Can’t Cook Won’t Cook, Sex And The City, Pokemon, Folding scooters, Red Bull, text messaging, Bill Bailey, Ali G.

Other songs: Len Steal My Sunshine, Melanie C Northern Star, William Orbit Barber’s Adagio For Strings

2000 November – One More Time

Mark and Rebecca’s wedding in a church in a village near Chichester, where Rebecca’s parents live. Friends from university include Rajeed, Lucy and Jane, Dennis McCormack (now gay) plus other work friends of Mark’s, now working for a solicitor’s office (thanks to future self) and earning enough for a mortgage. Mark misses father, his mother is there, alone, plus siblings. The angels attack etc. during the reception in a marquee in Rebecca’s house – her dad’s the vicar, they live in the vicarage, a house with massive lawn etc. Rebecca now working for academic publishing firm based in Camden.

Michael Douglas marries Catherine Zeta-Jones. Raid on diamond at Millennium Dome. Adverts Budweiser Frogs, have a say in London Mayor. One2One. Direct Line. Wassup advert. Northern Lights by Philip Pullman. Cinema Meet The Parents, Bedazzled, Charlie’s Angels. TV BBC Breakfast starts, BBC News at Ten, Family Guy, Spongebob Squarepants, The West Wing, Ant & Dec.

Other songs: Madonna Don’t Tell Me, Toploader Dancin’ In The Moonlight, Coldplay Trouble

2001 May – Don’t Stop Moving

Where Mark works, there’s a fire, and he’s caught in the blaze, after helping one of the older partners. They’re trapped together, with the Angels outside – visible to Rebecca – and the fire engine arrives. Future Mark has arranged a way of helping his former self, he loses consciousness, the Doctor and company help him escape in the TARDIS after he’s knocked out. Angels in the building whilst it is on fire, waiting for a paradox. Future Mark’s folder is destroyed in the blaze.

John Prescott punches a protestor for throwing egg, end of foot and mouth crisis.  Reading Timeline by Michael Crichton. Films Bridget Jones Diary, posters for The Mummy Returns and Shrek. Gets a DVD player for the first time. TV At Home With The Braithwaites, Big Brother, The Weakest Link, I Love The 80s. Frank Skinner. Sara Cox.

Other songs: Geri Halliwell It’s Raining Men, MOP Cold As Ice, Sugababes Run For Cover

2002 April – Fell In Love With A Girl

Mark and Rebecca still good, Mark’s doing extremely well in his job, looking at buying a place, Rebecca’s now got a lecturing job at UCL, thinking of children, trying but no luck yet, Lucy and Jane have adopted a baby, Dennis has settled down, Rajeed killed himself around Christmas, drinking problem. Apart from that, all very positive, though Mark has had an affair at work, complicated. Rebecca has been in a road accident, knocked over by a taxi, broken shoulder bone, otherwise fine, Mark worried about her crossing the road.

Queen mother’s funeral. Ipods launched. Reading Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman. Film Ice Age, ET re-release, The Time Machine. TV Footballer’s Wives, The Office, 24, Alias, What Not To Wear, Peter Kay, V Graham Norton. Digital radio.

Other songs: Travis Flowers In The Window, Will Young Evergreen, Natalia Imbruglia Wrong Impression

2003 April – Out Of Time

Mark and Rebecca still trying, no luck, have moved and have bought a place in Crystal Palace. Mark is at home, working, while Rebecca is visiting her parents in the village near Chichester. Dropping hints about grandchildren, Mark has ended affair, nothing really happened, Rebecca has been having bad headaches, undiagnosed... and driving home one night, she is killed in a road accident, head-on collision with a lorry. Funeral the following week.

Gulf war – Saddam Hussein’s statue toppled, Baghdad captured, British forces take Basra. Human genome completed. Film Bend It Like Beckham. TV The Osbornes, Spooks, Top Gear, Harry Hill’s TV Burp

Other songs: Christina Aguilera Beautiful; Busted Year 3000; Blue You Make Me Wanna 

2011 July – No title

Mark is now a partner of the legal firm, thrown himself into his legal work, doesn’t quite make connections with women, has been on dates but no luck, still friends with Rebecca’s family, move on say his friends – Sophie is back in Mark’s life, she’s divorced, but there’s nothing there. Few friends, still hasn’t got over the shock, still misses Rebecca every day, thought it would get easier, living on his own in a flat in Honor Oak Park overlooking London, looking towards centre of town, Shard etc. People tell me it’s been eight years... it doesn’t feel like eight years. Has a photo of her on his desk, talks about her in the present tense, bit young for you, this was taken a while ago, oh I get it, my wife’s the same, once they get that ring on their finger they let themselves go. Gets a Chinese takeaway. Still in contact with Rebecca’s parents and younger sister Claire.

Newsreaders – check as and when.

Tomorrow I'll post a few other bits and pieces from the early stages.

The Girl And The Robot

Missing Believed Wiped 2012

Another year, another Missing Believed Wiped? What treats would be in store? What shows would be a chore? Top Of The Pops – have they found more? Or some Lulu or Sandi Shaw?

Sorry, no more rhymes. First up this year, beginning and ending the first session and beginning the second, was a section of TV continuity. Which I’d feared would be a History Of Anglia Idents, and there was an element of that, but fortunately it was edited with a sense of pace and humour. So while I never want to watch all the Granada 'G’s bouncing around the screen again, it was rather nice to see little promo clips of The Two Ronnies and Reginald Perrin, as well as the original ITV presenter so accurately lampooned by Susie Blake on Victoria Wood As Seen On TV. And certain idents prodded at the nostalgia cortex; watching the slow but inexorable progress of the BBC For Schools clock took me right back to sitting cross-legged on a varnished dining hall floor waiting for Words And Pictures*. What was it with BBC For Schools and baroque classical guitar?

First highlight of the evening was a 30-minute play by BS Johnson called Not Counting The Savages, from 1972 but only preserved as a slightly dodgy black-and-white off-air recording. Like far too many of the plays of the day, it was domestic, indulgent, unstructured, rambling and possibly point-scoringly-autobiographical and appeared to have been knocked off in one drunken evening with no time for a second draft. It reminded me of Dennis Potter’s Shaggy Dog in that regard; it’s characters arguing to create false drama, with peculiar, hollow moments of surrealism (a character playing an electric keyboard which is switched off and re-setting the date). It wasn’t, it has to be said, any good, but I’m glad to have seen it; the main disappointment, though, was that I had hoped, being a BS Johnson piece, it would end with characters acknowledging their own fictional status and giving up on the story, when it just ends with a clunking great Do You See What I Did There. Oh, and some of the dialogue, some of the sentence constructions, oh dear.

After that was part three of Doctor Who: Galaxy Four, the episode Air Lock. Not the most spectacular, fast-moving or action-packed episode of the series, but wonderful to see nonetheless. It’s problem is that the story is far too thin to sustain the duration (probably because responsibility for it fell between two production teams), most significantly in part three where a large portion of it is dedicated to the villainess Maaga delivering a monologue (near enough) about Drahvins soldiers being genetically engineered to be unable to think or imagine.  It’s also quite a static episode; most of the characters spend it in one location, Steven Taylor barely moving more than half a dozen yards during the course of the episode, the Doctor being sidelined sabotaging an air filter for the first half.

It’s also a slightly wobbly production; the story repeatedly makes the point that the Rills can’t be seen in their ammonia chamber, when in fact they’re quite clearly visible (and very lovely). At one point Vicki is trapped by a sliding wall that the Doctor describes as immovable when it is anything but; later on there’s an accident with his cane and a scene where the Doctor is told by Vicki not to shout at the Chumblies, when he hasn’t raised his voice in the slightest.

But there were many delights in this episode too. A very nicely-directed flashback scene. The rills. Peter Purves’ enormous hair (he’s always said that his role in this story was written for Jacqueline Hill, which may explain why he has her hairdo and cardigan). The Chumblies, some endearingly wobbly robots that resemble enormous upturned salad bowls covered in Christmas decorations. And most wonderfully of all, William Hartnell’s interaction with the Chumblies, giggling with delight as they whizz past at quite a lick, prodding them with his cane, giving them instructions and leading them on the charge.

I should also add that the restoration job on the episode is fantastic, it looks utterly beautiful and the repair to the ending is virtually unnoticeable even if, like me, you can’t help looking out for it. And who would've thought, reading K9 And Other Mechnical Creatures all those years ago* that I would one day get to see a Chumblie in action?

In the second section, as well as more continuity, we got to see a clip of Roxy Music performing Street Life on Top Of The Pops. Not one of their better songs, but it was good to see. Unfortunately the BBC in their wisdom decided that we couldn’t see the whole episode as it features Jimmy Savile and Gary Glitter; presumably there was a danger that their images could spring to life and emerge from the screen like the girl from The Ring and molest innocent members of the audience. Or that there might be someone in the audience who, despite having had forty-odd years to be desensitised by Savile’s appearances on TV (particularly over the last few months), might finally be tipped over the brink by seeing him on the big screen at the BFI. I mean, seriously, how can it be insensitive to repeat a Top Of The Pops presented by Savile when it’s okay for clips of Savile presenting Top Of The Pops to be shown endlessly on the news and ITV hatchet-mentaries? Which is more likely to be seen by, and distress, his victims? It’s the same magnetic tape, the only difference is that one is in the context of providing musicians with royalties and maybe a chance to see the one time their band ever appeared on telly, and one is in the context of trying to cynically provoke an emotional response of salacious disgust and anger. Oh, I’m ranting, and we all know the real reason, it’s because the BBC is scared of the Daily Mail.

So instead, we were treated to a couple of youth shows. Firstly, an edition of A Whole Scene Going. To begin with, I was on tenterhooks as a shopping montage to The Kinks' Dedicated Follower Of Fashion looked like it might contain a NEW SIGHTING OF SIXTIES TOP HAT GUY but alas that was not to be. The show then included a few pop acts, which I have already forgotten, and a little clip about the making of the second Dalek movie and an interview with a very defensive Gordon Flemying (father of Primeval’s Jason Flemyng). This was followed by an interview with some directors and a feature on The Spencer Davis Group with Spencer Davis being interviewed by a panel of ‘young people’. These ‘young people’ were hilarious, with their vague and yet aggressive line of questioning, and the fact that they all appeared to be in their mid-forties.

The show’s presenters, though, were fab; the utterly delightful and gorgeous Wendy Varnals, and Barry Fantoni, a dead ringer for Sonny Bono. Whatever happened to Wendy Varnals? She should’ve been presenting Newsnight by now. Her report on Birmingham's swinging nightclubs was the epitome of quality journalism.

And whatever happened to Ayshea, the gorgeous presenter of Lift Off With Ayshea? She’s great, the (only) highlight of her fairly ramshackle children’s TV show. The reason why it’s been generally ignored by the Brooker, Collins and Maconie nostalgia mill is that almost all of it has been lost, otherwise it would surely have had its own section in We Lazily Mock The 70s; ‘The Feet, what were they all about, eh?’ Ayshea’s co-star was a ‘Hacker’-type dog called Barker, disconcertingly voiced by the same guy who did Basil Brush; a very funny character but a truly shit puppet c/o Oliver Postgate. The show was weird and misjudged, the sinister Animal Kwackers-type dance routines and puppet seemingly intended for primary school children whilst the pop acts (which seemed to be three identical servings of Creme Brulee) were presumably intended for teenagers. As such, it could only serve to alienate and frustrate both sets of viewers.

And that was it, Missing Believed Wiped 2012. A much better and well-considered presentation than last year and it looks like there will be even more Missing Believed Wipeds during 2013 so maybe I should finally get that BFI membership as I’ll be attending them all.

* Twenty-eight, I was.

Underwater Love

On Sunday went to Missing Believed Wiped where, as I’m sure anyone reading this knows, they showed the recently-recovered Doctor Who episode The Underwater Menace part two and a clip from the also recently-recovered Doctor Who episode Galaxy 4 part three. Of which more later. But those weren’t the only things they showed.

The reason why I’d originally been excited about the event, before I may have heard a rumour and been sworn to secrecy, was that it would include a long-long Dennis Potter play, Emergency Ward 9, first broadcast in 1966. The play’s story editor Kenith Trodd introduced it, but with caveats; it was written in a rush, it was from a different time where racism was more commonplace. I think, actually, the play is much better than he thinks it is. It’s essentially about two men in adjoining bates, Mr Flanders and Mr Padstow, and we follow them over a few days in a typical NHS hospital. The only part of the story that didn’t ring true was the wealth black character; if he’s so wealthy, why is he in an NHS ward? The death of a patient asking repeatedly for a ‘cuppa tea’ was pretty tough viewing; this, and some other parts of the play (including the use of archive music) turned up in a rewritten form in The Singing Detective 20 years later. It was a funny, moving and in places ‘angry’ play; much better than some of the dull tat he was knocking out for LWT a few years later.

We were also shown some adverts and music clips with puppets, which were amusing enough, and a rather stiff play from the 50’s starring Andre Morrell, a supposedly but not actually true story about an allied soldier having plastic surgery so that he could take the place of a Nazi officer in Norway.

And then Mark Gatiss introduced the Doctor Who discoveries. It was an incredibly thrilling moment, to see the Hartnell titles on the screen, and then to see a Rill (a monster which fans had previously only been able to see in two grainy photographs) in action, followed by Air Lock, the title of the third episode of Galaxy 4. The Doctor and Vicki are trying to escape from its spaceship, a rather flimsy-looking affair like a geodesic climbing frame. Part of the set breaks off out of shot, but Hartnell carries on regardless. But then Vicki is grabbed by a Chumblie (a robot that resembles a stack of upturned colanders) and we get to see that Chumblies have arms and guns and little lights. We then cut to a scene of Maaga, leader of the Drahvins, discussing the artificial genetically-modified nature of the Drahvin race, most of which was delivered as a soliloquy to camera. And then the picture cut out. Just as it was getting exciting.

The Underwater Menace part two was no less fascinating. It’s Patrick Troughton’s earliest surviving performance as the Doctor, and as such is more gimmicky and comedic than what would come later. My mum once told me how annoying he was to begin with, because he’d just sit and play his bloody recorder all the time, and yet until now we’ve never had a clip of Troughton doing just that*; I also suspect that this episode is so early in his run that he’s still wearing a wig over his own hair. He’s also still very much in the wearing-silly-hats –whenever-he-can stage. What was surprising was how dark the episode was, how seriously it was all taken (given that the plot and dialogue are both pure comic strip). The story’s villain, Professor Zaroff, is supposed to be mad, and seeing Joseph Furst’s performance in this episode puts his increasing mania in episode three (which has long-since existed) into context; it also makes more sense of the politics and religion of the Atlantean people. It was also lovely to see more of Ben, Polly and Jamie (Jamie still wearing his highlander outfit from his first story). The only major disappointment is that I’d expected to see a shot of Zaroff’s pet octopus, but alas, no octopus was forthcoming. But it was a surprisingly strong episode; the darkness and cavernous echo giving it a real sense of claustrophobia, of it all taking place deep below ground, where a whole society is slowly going stir crazy. It’s still a daft, random, clunkily-written story, but the joy is in seeing Patrick Troughton working with what dialogue he’s given, playing against it, or weighing up his moments carefully, and creating a believable, magical performance, not so much with the words but through his mannerisms and expressions. Even if he does play that bloody recorder.

The second half of Missing Believed Wiped wasn’t nearly so much fun. I should have just gone to the bar.

After about half of the audience had left, Dick Fiddy took to the stage to remind people that they shouldn’t record stuff shown on the big screen. A reminder which might have been more effective before half the audience had left. But then it was on with the show...

First there were some clips from Oh Boy! An episode of the show has recently been found, but what seems to have happened is that someone has appropriated the footage in the hope of getting their Oh Boy! documentary off the ground, so rather than seeing the recovered footage in situ, instead we only got to see his trailer for his prospective documentary (which largely comprised of footage not from the recovered episode). I’m not keen on people trying to further their careers by interpolating themselves between recovered footage and people getting to see it. So rather than the footage of one of Cliff Richard’s earliest TV performance being made available for, say, a documentary about Cliff Richard, it seems either it will only see the light of day as part of some guy's documentary on Oh Boy! or not at all. Which seems counter to the spirit of Missing Believed Wiped – this stuff should be made available to as many people who want to see it, not hoarded or hidden or with an agenda attached.

Next up was an episode of The Rolf Harris Show. It was 45 minutes of sheer torture. I suppose it could be argued it has some historical merit – if nothing else it makes you appreciate how much better Lulu and Dusty Springfield’s shows were from the same time – and it was interesting to note that even when they were young, the Beverley Sisters looked like they were in their late 50s - but it was excruciating to sit through. As was the following ‘recovery’, a recording of a guitar festival from 1984. I put recovery in quotation marks because this concert was never actually missing, it was barely even broadcast in the first place (only being shown on a satellite channel that no-one could pick up) and has been retained in an indie's archive ever since.

What baffles me about this is that the people going to Missing Believed Wiped were only shown a measly 5 minutes of Galaxy 4, a recovery which will bring delight to thousands of people, and which made the national news, because the organisers thought it was more important to show 45 minutes of The Rolf Harris Show and a guitar festival from 1984.

Edit: Alternatively, they could have dropped the 50's play, as it hadn't been mentioned in publicity and, given the howls of derision with which it was greeted, I don't think it would have been missed.

Now, I’m not saying those things aren’t important in their own way, of course they are, but if the BFI's attitude to what gets shown at Missing Believed Wiped reflects their priorities regarding what they decide to keep and what they chuck then I worry. Unless, of course, it wasn’t their decision to make, and the fact that they could only show 5 minutes of Galaxy 4 was because of the owner of the footage or the BBC or for technical reasons.

But even so, I think there could be more flexibility in what gets show at Missing Believed Wiped. It’s not as if the programme is announced in advance. The publicity makes it clear 'As per normal not all the content of the day is verified at the time of going to press'. If you have a year in which lots of TV shows have turned up, but not many musical performances, don’t allocate TV shows and musical performances equal running time. Because, quite frankly, sitting through The Rolf Harris Show my attitude was that it should be chucked right back in the skip. I don't bedgrudge some highlights being shown, but the whole 45 mins? And the same goes for the guitar festival from 1984. The programme selection of Missing Believed Wiped should better reflect what the people paying to see the footage might actually be interested in and not the whims and personal tastes of the organisers. I mean, I was delighted to see the footage of David Bowie performing Jean Genie on Top of the Pops, but to play it twice? When you could be showing something else (like the rest of Galaxy 4 part three)? Because, I think, if the people paying to go to Missing Believed Wiped keep on being subjected to stuff like The Rolf Harris Show or a guitar festival from 1984 when there’s so much other more interesting and entertaining stuff turning up that could and should be shown (such as a whole edition of Top Of The Pops from 1976) then they’ll stop paying to go to Missing Believed Wiped. The event should be a showcase for gems from the past, not a feat of endurance.

Oh, I know I'm being greedy, I'm just annoyed that they didn't show all of Galaxy 4 part three. Because that would've been fantastic.

See blogs on previous Missing Believed Wipeds here, here and here.

* I have since been reminded that he does in The Abominable Snowmen part two.

Northern Lights

Just been on a brief holiday in Bonny Scotland. I don’t like to mention these things in advance because burglars might be reading.

Went up to Glasgow on the 19th. Pottered around the Necropolis, as seen in almost every episode of Sea Of Souls. Lots of interesting examples of tomb one-up-man-ship.

The next day we visited the Gallery of Modern Art, a small and not particularly inspiring collection which made such an impression on me I can’t remember a thing about it six days later. Then onto the wee underground railway they have there to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. Lots to see, including stuffed animals, a mass of floating heads, suits of armour, and a lovely collection of Dutch paintings. I wasn’t totally won over by the Glasgow Boys paintings – my main impression was that you came away with a strong sense that the cheapest colours of paint were dark green and brown, so Scottish painters tended to concentrate on painting things that were dark green and brown i.e. bleak scenes of poor people eating mud under overcast skies.

Then across the park to the Hunterian Collection, which includes such marvels as Isaac Newton’s Death Mask. Then back onto the dinky train (actually constructed by Hornby) to pootle around the riverside development before meeting friends in town and heading to a rather lovely pub called Oran Mor, built in a disused church. Made me think of all those other empty, neglected churches around the country that could be converted into pubs.

Next day, we tootled off to Stirling, to look at the marvellous castle they have there. It was something to do with the Battle Of Bannockburn which, I’m afraid, I’ve only heard of because it’s mentioned in the ‘University Challenge’ episode of ‘The Young Ones’. We all have to get our knowledge from somewhere. Anyway, did a tour around the various halls, and saw a very good talk about Margaret Tudor. Oh, I am so middle-aged, with my visits to old castles and being interested in history (insofar as it was mentioned in episodes of 80’s sitcoms).

Next day, off to Edinburgh for the festival. The Royal Mile was a vision of hell. After dropping off bits, our first show was Kevin Eldon Is Titting About at The Stand. To digress briefly, last time I was at the festival I’d seen a show there and had a really miserable hour. The reason being, the comedian was someone I’d seen at university ten years previously who’d been very good – and now, here he was, ten years later, doing exactly the same material. Mentioning no names but it was Boothby Graffoe.

So with these shows there’s always the sense that they can go either way. You can see people you’ve never heard of being totally brilliant and people off the television die on their arses.

Or, in the case of Kevin Eldon, you can see people off the television being totally brilliant. His show was lots of bits of things stuck together – poetry, characters, songs, stand-up – but performed very, very accurately, and extremely tightly-written. Five stars out of five.

Next we saw Stewart Lee's Vegetable Stew. Stewart Lee’s one of those comedians who can go either way, sometimes he’s very good, and sometimes he’s one of those comedians who like to point out that Bible stories/English idioms/pop music lyrics don’t bear rigorous logical scrutiny at great length. And who likes lots of repetition. However, I thought this show was extremely good. I can’t remember any specifics but I recall quite a lot of it seemed to be about crisps. Anyway, that’s good, means I’ll laugh at all the jokes again when they turn up in his TV show. Five stars out of five.

The following day would up the comedy ante, if that makes any sense to you, as we would see five shows in one day. Five. Five shows out of five!

First we popped into a free show, because it was raining, and it was free, a revue-type-thing by three students (I assume) in a basement called Making Faces. For a free show, it was a basement bargain, and surprisingly good. I’m not sure the three students’ different styles really meshed together at all – one deadpan, one sweet, one excitable – but in maybe five years or so, after life has knocked them around a bit, they’ll write better material – basically, it came across as a show written in a week, when really you want each show to be the result of months of writing. They came across well, though, and had a great sense of fun. Five stars out of five.

Next it was time for education, and It Is Rocket Science at the Gilded Balloon, with Helen Keen. An hour-long potted history of rockets, from the first guys with beards writing down equations in a Russian university to the V2 rockets and the Apollo missions. All delivered with enthusiasm and a little, but not too much, home-spun whimsy. Have to admit, I fancied Helen Keen a great deal, but I’m married so ignore I said that. She could be the straight man’s Brian Cox. I enjoyed it a lot – and it was good for a show to concentrate on a topic, rather than just being about ‘space’ in general – so I award it five stars out of five.

After that down the hill to the Pleasance Courtyard. Someone once told me – probably Davy – that if you spend five minutes in the Pleasance Courtyard you will see everyone you have ever known walk past. Or is that a cafe in Paris? I forget. Anyway, within minutes of arriving I was getting flashbacks of people I’d worked with in the past, or been in BBC comedy meetings with. It’s a strange thing, and probably why I don’t like going there.

But we were there, to see Adam Riches Rides!. It was billed as character sketch comedy, but to be honest it was more like an hour of free-wheeling madness – it begins with Adam coming on as a centaur Pierce Brosnan and basically gets stranger from there. Lots of audience participation – oh dear god no – but thankfully someone else was victim-ed who not only took it in fun but also added to the show (a show which is reliant on the audience participants being willing and good-natured). I get the impression that a lot of sketch comedy nowadays involves comedians showing off how many accents they can do and how they can do an impersonation of their grandparents; Riches’ approach is to treat sketch comedy as a succession of fairground rides, or comic strip interludes, where it’s all about the props and the slapstick (which is great fun live, but unlikely to transfer well to TV). If I had to quibble, I’d say the PA system was annoyingly incoherent, and the routines could have had more variety beyond talking animals and cowboys, but I was laughing my face off throughout so I give it five stars out of five.

Then down the hill and to the left a bit to the Underbelly to see my mate Toby’s show Now I Know My BBC. I’d already seen a preview, but after a month the show is much tighter and more focussed, and moving and nostalgic and all those things. You come away from it remembering why the BBC is so lovely, and why having something that brings people together (unlike newspapers trying to make people fear each other) is something for us all to be proud of. There’s also a rather good Noggin the Nog joke. Five stars’ out of five.

And finally back to the Pleasance for Tim Vine’s The Joke-Amotive. One hour of puns, like watching your friend’s dad showing off at a children’s birthday party. I love Tim Vine; like Tommy Cooper, he makes a virtue out of the groanworthiness of some of his material, warning the audience that there’s more to come, letting them know when they’ve reached the half-way point and so on. But the relentless barrage of wordplay has a cumulative effect; the end result is that you feel quite punchline-drunk. Five stars out of five.

So there you go. If anyone wants to quote these reviews, my name is Tim Eout, make sure you get the spacing right.

And then we came home again.

Quiet Life

Ooh, I haven’t posted a blog for ages. I am abject and contrite, faithful reader. But I’ve been busy, writing words which people will pay me for, and at the end of the day I find I’ve run out of things to say and my fingers are all tired from typing.

And on top of that, it’s been cold, and apart from work, not a lot to say. Yesterday the Mrs and I visit the British Museum. Having read up a bit on African history, I was wondering what relics they had from the empires of Mali and Ethiopia – two of the most successful empires in the history of the planet – but it turned out all they had a couple of masks. But they had some bronze bits and bobs from the Empire of Benin which were marvellous. And which clearly demonstrate that what I was taught at school – that in Africa everyone was living in the jungle and hitting each other with sticks until the Europeans turned up – was a load of nonsense. They had empires, they had cities, they had bronze bits and bobs while we were all still hitting each other with sticks.

After that we went to a Privet Function. I had a privet function once, it was late, I needed to go desperately urgently, there was a hedge nearby. I think, if anything, the Privet Function demonstrates the limitations of the spellchecker. Though as it was followed by an Appology for the Inconveineance so I’m not sure Mr Clippy was firing on all cylinders.

Telly-wise, currently watching ‘Big Bang Theory’ – excellent episode this week – ‘Pop Star To Opera Star’ – really enjoying it, and getting quite indignant when they sing a song which isn’t proper opera – and ‘How I Met Your Mother’. The episode this week, ‘Drumroll Please’, was one of the most perfectly-written, beautiful episodes of a sitcom I’ve ever seen. Seek it out if you’ve not already seen it. It’s like an American version of ‘Coupling’, but really funny, so completely unlike the American version of ‘Coupling’.

Started going for jogs again. Bloody hell it’s cold out there. Can barely see where I’m going what with my breath condensating all over the place. It’s so cold that when I get home I have to count my nipples to check I haven’t lost one on the way.

Discovered a fantastic new band called Dragonette. They’re like Little Boots but even better. Can’t understand why they’re not more well-known. Oh well, they can be my secret. The words ‘kiss of death’ spring effortlessly to mind.

Oh, finished reading John O’Farrell’s An Utterly Exasperated History Of Modern Britain, which was lots of fun, particularly on what really happened during the 1970s compared to it’s portrayal in TV clip shows. Occasionally John’s relentless search for the ‘gag’ becomes a little wearisome – though there’s a sequence in his The Best A Man Can Get about the correct way to make a cup of tea which made me laugh my head of insanely in Gatwick airport, drawing the attention of passers-by – and I think he’s completely wrong about the Iraq War.

Speaking of which, watched a bit of young Tony Blairs on the telly on Friday. Reading Nick ‘Chairman Of The Young Conservative’ Robinson’s blog on the BBC site you’d think that Tony turned up trembling with fear and stammering in terror and desperately hoping no-one would notice the spreading dampness at the front of his trousers. When actually he came across as confident, self-assured, thoughtful, statesmanlike and absolutely bone-dry in the underwear department. Why aren’t you still Prime Minister, Tony? I’ve stuck some thoughts I wrote last year in a gap in last year’s blog.

So, yes, not a lot going on, and I think this blog’s probably going to be weekly, or very occasional, from now on.

Tables Have Turned

Spent today in a recording studio, second day of a thing which has sort-of already been announced but which I’m not going to say what it is. It went well, everyone was marvellous and I drank far too much black coffee.

Speaking of things being recorded, though, I can now begin plugging stuff for 2010; the first being the audio tale Jago & Litefoot: The Spirit Trap, as announced in Doctor Who Magazine. Out in June as part of a ‘Series One’ box set. Litefoot and Jago are, respectively, a professor of medicine and a theatrical entrepreneur, first seen many years ago in the Doctor Who adventure The Talons Of Weng-Chiang and more recently heard in the recent, absolutely terrific, audio adventure The Mahogany Murderers. They’re portrayed by Trevor Baxter and Christopher Benjamin (who was a terrific Falstaff at the Globe a couple of years ago).

It was written in late November last year and recorded on December 18th, so follow this link here to read the relevant blog. That’s a pretty fast turnaround, which suits me, as it means there’s less time for procrastination and vacillation. In the story, our heroes investigate the phenomena of table-tapping...

As ‘research’ I read Matthew Sweet’s fantastic book on the Victorians, which was utterly useless for my purposes as Jago & Litefoot is set very much within the fog-and-gaslight world of the twentieth century’s romanticised version of that era; the world of Sherlock Holmes and Fu Manchu. I also read The Table Rappers by Ronald Pearsall, which was a useful, if awkwardly-written, account of nineteenth century spiritualism, séances, clairvoyance and so on; largely from a sceptical viewpoint, though Pearsall (bizarrely) concludes that a few practitioners, such as D D Home, were probably genuine. Well, I suppose it’s good to keep an open mind...

Happy New Year

So farewell 2009. A very good year. I got married, that was the main thing. From this year on, I’ll be checking my age, deducting 36, and adding one month to find out how long I’ve been married. To a marvellous, lovely girl, and I’ll shut up about it now.

I seem to have been working pretty much constantly. Doctor Who things, mainly. It’s kept me busy, and I think I’ve done some good work. I hope people aren’t getting sick of my name appearing on things; I suppose I could always use a pseudonym. Most of my things seem to have gone done very well, for which I am extremely grateful but not prepared to take an ounce of credit. 2009, the year of the Hothouse, Cannibalists, Company Of Friends, The Eternal Summer, The Glorious Revolution, The Mists Of Time, and Space Vikings!. And I’ve got, er, three or four or five things long-since written but due out next year, Deimos with Paul McGann, which I think is the strongest story I’ve written, certainly in terms of plotting at least, and a Peter Davison adventure which I also think is one of my more accomplished efforts. I get the feeling I’m improving; trying not to rely upon technique, trying to surprise myself, leave the comfort zone. I’m certainly getting faster.

Not so much other stuff, sadly. No time. Attempted another sitcom script but kind of lost interest half-way through. Had an idea for a film but, as films don’t seem to get made, left it to ‘mature’ in a bottom drawer.

I did write my own original, hour-long, family sci-fi drama, as a demo thing, and if I do say so myself it was a bloody good script, I certainly put a lot of effort into it, but trying to get people to bother to read the thing has proved to be a real bugger. I sent it to my agent earlier this year, and after three months it hadn’t even been read, so I decided to change agent. And try to take my career more into my own hands (as I seemed to get further that way). But if anyone out there wants to read my marvellous family sci-fi drama script, please get in touch. Cue: tumbleweed.

2010 looks promising. I’ve got a regular writing gig, fingers crossed, touch wood, that is if they don’t see sense and fire me. And I really should try writing another sitcom, as I’ve had another Idea So Good No Sane Commissioner Could Ever Turn It Down. And being married has turned out to be wonderful, but I said I’d shut up about that.

Oh, and 2009 was the year I did a daily blog. Except in November, but I’ll go back and fill in the blank days with stuff from my ‘rainy day blogs’ folder. It started out as being strictly under 300 words; now I don’t bother with a wordcount. Not sure if I’ll persevere into 2010. Probably not on a daily basis. It’s been fun, but my fingers are tired.

Personal Jesus

The Story Of The Nativity

Based on the Gospels of Luke and Matthew

Using all the bits which are usually left out, and leaving out all the bits which are usually left in.

In Bethlehem there once was an unmarried couple, Mary and Joseph, who didn’t even live together. Joseph is visited by an un-named angel who tells him, regarding Mary, to ‘take her as a wife’ (in other words to have sex with her) and have a son who will be called Jesus. This he does, getting Mary pregnant. They then get married.

Not long after, Mary visits a friend called Elizabeth who was technically unable to have children but who now finds herself to be miraculously pregnant. This sort of thing happens quite often in the New Testament, it seems. It’s Elizabeth who declares that Mary is now the ‘mother of the Lord’.

Mary and Joseph move in together, and not much happens until Mary gives birth, not in a manger, but at home. King Herod has been dead for a while and the Romans don’t interfere in Judean life very much, so things are pretty quiet. No-one turns up with gifts and there are no unusual astronomical phenomena to speak of.

About a month or so later, Mary and Joseph take the Christ child to the Temple of Jerusalem to have part of his dick chopped off. He bleeds quite badly (thus beginning the redemption of man). They then sacrifice some pigeons on his behalf and chat with an old bloke called Simeon and an old lady called Anna who declare the blood-soaked infant as the saviour of the nation of Jerusalem.

Joseph is then visited by another angel in a dream, telling him to take his newborn son to Israel. Joseph decides to ignore this and they choose to settle in Nazareth instead.

Second greatest story ever told!

I Was Born On Christmas Day

So this is Christmas. And the story of the nativity.

A story so dramatic it’s only mentioned in two of the gospels; two very contradictory accounts. Both gospels seems to be awkward attempts to reconcile the Old Testament prophecy about a Messiah born in Bethlehem with the idea that it’s Jesus of Nazareth. Luke has Jesus’ parents of Nazareth travelling to Bethlehem for the birth; Matthew has Jesus’ parents of Bethlehem relocating to Nazareth after his birth.

Of course, these solutions create more continuity problems than they solve; according to Luke, Mary and Joseph are attending the census of Quirinius at the behest of the Emperor Augustus (which means it happens ten years after the recorded death of Herod, who is still King is Matthew’s version of events). And the Romans did not conduct censuses of non-Roman citizens, requiring them to return to the town of their birth; if you think about it, it’s a rather impractical way of going about it – all you would have to do is stay at home and you wouldn’t have to pay any taxes!

The miracle of the virgin birth. Assuming you’re okay about the fact that the word ‘virgin’ is a mis-translation of the original descriptor for Mary (something closer to ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’). Bizarrely, both gospels give detailed (but differing) accounts of how Jesus is descended from David via his father Joseph, even though both gospels make it clear that Joseph is not actually his father. Of course, this is all about trying to make the ‘story’ fit the various ‘facts’ established in the Old Testament.

So an angel – possibly Gabriel, possibly not – comes to either Mary or Joseph in a dream (but not both). They either travel to Bethelehem for a Roman census or reside there already. Mary then gives birth in a stable (according to Luke only – Matthew has Jesus as a home-birth). An unspecified number of shepherds or an unspecified number of Magi attend the child (but not both). Magi being, of course, the term for priests of the Zoroastrian religion of Persia (Zoroastrian translating as ‘followers of the star’). A giant lobster may have also have been in attendance, according to the Gospel of Richard Curtis.

After which, either Mary and Joseph flee to Egypt to escape King Herod’s Massacre of the Innocents (copy and pasted from accounts of Moses’ birth – I hardly need say there is no record of any such massacre in any reliable or remotely contemporaneous historical account) before eventually ending up in Nazareth, or they take the baby to Jeruslam to have its penis pointlessly mutilated according to Jewish tradition before returning happily to Nazareth.

And was there a magic star? Not according to Luke’s version of events (the shepherds were summoned by an angel, or possibly by a travelling spaceman, according to the gospel of Chris De Burgh). It might have been a comet (though the dates don’t match) certainly wasn’t a conjunction of planets – there wasn’t a significant one around then, and even when they do happen, they are barely noticable).

The greatest story ever told? Possibly. But with the emphasis very much on the word ‘story’.

Back In '64

Day off today. Finished a thing in the early hours, it’s now been accepted, approved, and I’m sure I will have forgotten about having written it in a few day’s time. I can never remember things about things I’ve written. I have to record over the memories whenever I’m writing something else, there isn’t the room. Still, it means when I do read things back, or listen, or whatever, they seem new again. And I get to laugh at my own jokes. Which I do a lot. This thing I’ve just written has an excruciating pun which I am desperately proud of. It makes me laugh just thinking about it.

Anyway, day off, and off to the National Portrait Gallery to look at their exhibition, Beatles to Bowie, a load of photos charting sixties pop music fashion. Basically, a few representative snaps of each of band or artist, year by year, interspersed with collections of magazine covers, record sleeves and so on.

What does it tell us? Firstly, that to be a pop star in the sixties, you really didn’t have to be good looking. I blame rationing; that’s why Gerry And The Pacemakers all looked forty even when they were only twenty. And secondly, it demonstrates, beyond doubt, that whatever the Beatles did, the Rolling Stones did six months later, rubbishly.

By concentrating solely on photographs, though, it gives a misleading impression of how record sleeves evolved during that era; there’s a whole history of graphic design missed out. And you could do a whole exhibition on the Beatles increasingly surreal photo sessions; from umbrellas to springs to bloodstained dolls.

After that, we visited Edward Keinholz’s Hoerengracht at the National Gallery, which was superb. Always been a fan of his walk-in installations ever since I saw the Beanery twenty years ago. I wrote a whole novel about it.

No Regrets

Back in 2003, I was in favour of the Iraq war and I remain convinced we did the right thing. Occasionally I might have said I was against it, but usually that was just to avoid an argument or because I was agreeing with an attractive girl. Shallow? There are bird baths out there with more depth.

It was, I believe, inevitable. Certainly it would’ve happened if we’d had a Tory government; their position at the time was that the government was being too cautious! Under Gore; yes, it would probably have been conducted more competently but it still would’ve happened. And if we’d had a Liberal government... well, I’m sure that once Charles Kennedy found himself sitting at that desk, and had sobered up, he would’ve realised how limited his options were.

I had a problem with the anti-war marches. They seemed to be a coalition of people who felt that either a) war was bad thing, per se or b) that George Bush was a bad thing, per se or c) that although wars aren’t intrinsically bad, this one was all about ‘oil’ and that ‘Tony B Liar’ had lied to us, and anyway there are worse people in the world we should be fighting against. As though we should be working down a list (because the world really is that simple). The reasoning was contradictory; people were protesting that it was wrong to go to war in support of a resolution made by the United Nations.

But I support the UN. I know enough history to know that it was a reluctance to intervene which led to the collapse of the League of Nations. And besides, if you have an evil dictator refusing to let inspectors into his cupboard marked ‘WMD’, you’re going to suspect he’s got something in the cupboard. Even if he hasn’t. And the alternative – the UK and USA issuing ultimatums only to back down at the last minute – wouldn’t just have been what Saddam wanted; it would’ve made the world we live in today a much more dangerous place.

You may disagree. Please do.

One last thought, though. Lots of people at the time, and forever since, have said that Tony Blair lied to us, that he claimed that Iraq was ’45 minutes’ away from launching an attack on Britain with Weapons of Mass Destruction.

But the odd thing is, if he had said this in a speech to parliament, don’t you think they’d be wheeling out that clip all the time? And yet they don’t, and the reason is because Tony never said this. All he did was put his name to a report that said Saddam could launch an attack on the Shia muslims at 45 minutes’ notice. Which... er... was the truth.

The ’45 minutes’ attack on Britain nonsense was a piece of misreporting by The Sun newspaper in 2002. So anyone who says Tony ‘lied’ is basically saying that they usually believe that whatever is reported on the front page of The Sun is the unadulterated truth and hasn’t been distorted or exaggerated in any way. And that if a newspaper misreports somebody’s words, then it is the responsibility of the person who was misreported and not the newspaper.

A hundred thousand people in Trafalgar Square because, due to a headline in the massively reliable newspaper The Sun, they’d got themselves all worked up about ‘lies’ which never existed.

But the main reason why I had a problem with anti-war movement was that Saddam Hussein was a bad guy. He was killing his own people. Presented with the opportunity to stop that, we should. And we did. We should be proud.