America's Next Top Model finale

Great - now that America's Next Top Model has wrapped up, could we please get the current season as well? Ten could illegally broadcast it really late at night or something, and hopefully nobody will pick up on the ownership infringement, or whatever the laws are that pertain to television rights. I don't care, I just like to watch TV.

Tonight's final, in short: Nicole deserved to win, as she is clearly the prettier one. Bre deserved to go through to be runner-up, not Nik, as Nik's face is harsh and brutish.

I realised halfway through tonight's final that I liked the final of Australia's Next Top Model way more, even though the standard of models on America's NTM was better overall. Anyone who watched it would agree with me on this one: the bad live format, Jodhi Meares' appalling hosting skills and general inability to read from an autocue, the reunion of rejected molls models, the constant repetition of the word AMAZING. It was all terrific in its crapposity. I would have preferred Steph to win, but apparently the catwalks of Europe are all about anaemic horse-faced bitches, so Alice took the prize.

What was I talking about? America's Next Top Model, yes. It was a good season, I think. I didn't really think I would really find it as amusing the second time around, but in the year or so since I first watched everyone get pissed at Kim for every stupid reason you can think of, I must have found a fresh pool of cynicism to draw from.

Tyra Banks is still annoying, and I look forward to her getting stabbed in the face one day.

Oh my god, Ben McKenzie damn near had me in tears just now. It's going to be a Ben/Matt finale, for sure. *resumes vow of silence*

PS. Weeds is on tomorrow night at 10.30 on Channel Nine. Watch it y'all!

So you think you can defy Nigel?

Golly, but the Channel Ten gibbons need to go to remedial editing school. Honestly! How hard can it be to actually have some logical sequencing going on here...?


Anyway, straight into the group dance and I don't know how choreo'd it because I was pretty much all, 'yeah yeah it's on next, I can paff about for a little while before it starts.. Oh crap, Oh crap, turn the damn recorder on Waaah!' But I'm seriously hoping it wasnt my darling Wade Robson becasue it did nothing for me and all I could think about was The Lion King, but like, without the giant giraffe heads...

And Elton John, because Freud would have field day with me.

Cat enters Stage Left, just proving once and for all that she can indeed look gorgeous dressed only in a garbage bag.

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Our jidges this week Nigel, Mary and 'Dance Legend' Debbie Allen who has condescended to judge the competition for one week only... And I'm guessing this is all very exciting, based solely on the scream factor. Well that and Cat's wrinkly-nosed admission of fangirlyness.

She's all, 'This competiton is so fantastic because blahdy blah dance vocabulary is expanding - both for the dancers and the audience' and I really must put in a stuatory warning here:

This episode should not be viewed by those who are easily upset by increasingly wankful dance terminology.
Or those who are averse to gratutitous displays of middle-aged decolletage.


Mary is impressed with Dominic and gets hersef all hot and bothered trying to justify it in respectable dance-speak. She fails dismally.

Sara and Jesús are first up, breaking out a bit of krumping action.
Their little famewhore-packages this week are all about their ambitions. Heh.
Sara has just graduated with a Bachelor of Jouralism and actually really wants to work as a freelance journalist doing PR and other articles on .... dance. See. She kinda had me there, I was all impressed thinking she was going to use her powers for good, but sadly no.
Jesús wants to spend his life helping children in need... he'd been helped through dance school by his whole community and now he wants to pay it forward. Yes he actually says it with a straight face.
Lil'C, one of the originators of krumping is choreo-ing them, and... apparently it's 'evolving' which means it's not Hard Core anymore, but just like hiphop. With pirouettes. Sara rocks it, and Jesús wears the attitude but gives the whole dance a fluidity that I don't think is suppposed to be there. I thought krumping was all about the staccato movements, but what would I know?

The judges are really impressed, especially milk-fed Nigel who admits to be scared of Krumping. hmmm. They really are a soppy lot aren't they?

And now for something completely different, Shauna apparently wants to be a techno singer - she sings all day and falls asleep listening to techno which sounds a little obsessive to me, but I guess she's dedicated to the cause. Cedric, on the other hand, wants to build toys and have a toy company. Because he has ideas for awesome bendy toys so he can, everyone join in now! - Help the Kids!
They're doing a contemp routine by Mia Mullet Michaels, who is described breathlessly as, among other things, tapping into their guts, an organic teacher, being from a different realm... And these are all good things. See? I told you that warning was necessary.
She's choreo'd a routine celebrating goodbyes, and Cedric and Shauna spend half of their rehearsal throwing themselves on the floor. For reals!
It's OK I guess - lots of running around looking anguished. Even a nice extended period where Cedric is seriously sitting in the corner pretending to cry. He doesn't even try to dance any style other than his own, and Mia is just a dirty great organic enabler for creating a routine that doesn't challenge him AT ALL. Shauna's great, but she has to carry the entire routine. And, y'know, do like heaps of running around. And leaping on and off the stage.
Debbie Allen proclaims something about the soul and spirit of a dancer, Mia's in tears, it's all just so emotional...
Until Mary earns my undying devotion by bluntly saying that Cedric has shown no growth whatsoever and doesn't desrve to stay in the competetion any longer. I'm gobsmacked. She had not one nice word to say to him and amazingly he responded in the most gracious way possible. He talks about how he believes he was put on the show by God. To be an inspirtaion to The Kids. To teach them that they can't live in their basement and dance by themselves. Because they can never know when they'll be in a situation where they may need to dance in a diferent style... And that all The Kids need to keep going to Dance Class. It was heartfelt and powerfully delivered, but unfortunately made precisely No Sense AT ALL. But for his efforts he gets a scholarship to the Debbie Allen Academy, which makes his day, so I guess everything will turn out for the best.

Urgh. It's Lacey and Kameron up next. Sorry, but I just don't get the love for this couple. They annoy the crap out of me. And their lifelong ambitions make me want to slap someone or something very hard indeed. Becasue Lacey, well, she just wants to make people happy through dance. And Kameron - he wants to be supproteive of Kid's dreams. It's like they've all taken career advice from Miss Universe.
Anyhow, they're doing the Quick Step and Kameron ends up strapped into a medieval torture device. It somewhat resembles a deformed ab curler and is supposed to help him to keep his 'frame'. I'm a little cheered because as far as I'm concerned, any pain is good pain if it's inflicted on this couple.
I'll grudgingly admit that the dance is actually quite awesome, all 1920s flapper style. And Lacey's in the first sparkley dress of the evening, so I'm a happy camper.

The judges add nothing to my considered critique, other than to point out that the Quick Step is traditionally known as The Kiss Of Death. Y'all knew that, right?

Anya and Danny attempting hip hop should be interesting, even if it is choreo'd by Dan Karaty. Apparently Anya wants to run an animal shleter, becasue she looves pets. Gives The Kids a break I guess. While Danny surprises no-one by declaring that he wants to work in production - movies, TV, theatre - before or behind the camera - he doesn't care, he just wants to entertain...
I quite like the routine - it starts off with some noice air piano, and even though Anya doesn't quite stay in step with Danny, she pulls it off. And I love how they use all of the stage, even the buffery bits supposed to stop them falling off when they're attempting a particular dramatic contemp dance.
Debbie Allen calls them The Dream Team and declares that Danny is just like a Matinee Idol. This provokes a display of hip thrusting from him that is thoroughly vomit-inducing. Ewwwwwww.

No really. It's that bad.

Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

Time for Sabra and Dominic to do their rumba. Dominic's ambition is apparently to do head spins while totally naked. Heee. Although, ewww.. Just picture that for one second and realise that gravity would NOT be his friend. Sabra however wants tobe a stand up comdeian. And meet Ellen DeGeneres... She thinks she's funny but sadly other people don't seem to think so. Poor Lamb.
Their Rumba is being choreo'd by the little French Candian Jean Marc Genereaux who raves about it being about passion. Which is what he says for every single ballroom dance that they do. It all about bloody passion. Sheesh!
Anyway... it rocks. My notes read awwwww..... so sweettt...... and I was doing hand claps all the way through. It was truly delightful.


Mary agrees and hands out tickets for the hot tamale train. And adds a MegaScream and a head shaking. She thought it was delightful too, obvs.

Are Lauren and Neil going to be catching a ride on that train? They're doing the tango, so I guess anything's possible. Although Lauren is pushing it by declaring she wants to be in Nasa, be in space, and when she's finished being a dancer she's going to go and study being in space. Okkkkaaaay. Step away from Mia Michaels, Lauren, step away from the madwoman and her contagion... Neil, he's so much more focused. He wants to be able to sing and act as well as he can dance - becasue he wants to be in movies or on broadway, anywhere he can entertain people. He's doing a pretty good job of keeping me entertained so far, witnessing his self-delusion.
They keep talking about that elusive 'chemistry' that they need, and Lauren admits to having had a blast working on him, ooops, sorry, working WITH him. Looks like Freud has his owrk cut out for him today!
Their tango is actually pretty forgettable. Maybe it was the lack of leg being shown, or the lack of chemistry... who knows? But the shot of the stony-faced audience made me think it wasn't just me... hee!

Mega Yayness! It's time for Hok and Jaimie to do a jazz routine.
Hok is torn between his dancing and his art - he does painting and graphic design. Two of his grandparents were artists, and it's what he's studying. And some of his stuff is pretty damn good. For my totally objective perespective. Jaimie's dead mom was a writer and she wants to write a book about her. Which is nice. I guess. But not nearly as interesting as Hok...
And I can die happy because it's going to be a Wade Robson routine! woohoooooo! It's a love story, a ballet even... between a hummingbird and a flower. Well obviously. I mean, why not?
And you know what's even awesomer than the overall awesomeness?
Jazz hands!!!!
Hok gets to do genuine hummingbirdy jazz hands!!!!!!
And Jaimie gets do do some genuine spiky-haired flowery stuff that give me cramps just loking at her.


The judges get all excited, calling Wade a genius, and deciding that they can't possibly critique the routine as it displayed their essence as dancers... hmmm... All this is getting a little much even for me, as driver of the Hok Love Train.

Last but not least, we have Pasha & Jessi doing the Cha Cha Cha.
Or do we???????
Pasha talks about his family in Russia, but I was too busy arguing with Miss M about why Jessi sucks to pay much attention to him. Jessi does an awesome job of simply proving why she sucks by stating her ambition to become Judy Garland... or a sheep. Either/Or really.


And then she does the mouthed 'vote for us' to camera and says that they'll do whatever it takes to get votes - whether Pasha has to take his shirt off (not that I can think of anyone who would mind that, to be honest) or she has to shake her hair around... or y'know, just flash Nigel again.
And then Drama!!!! Jessi gets chest pains and has trouble breathing and is promptly carted off to hospital by a bunch of firemen (confusing I know). She's ordered to rest by the doctors so Pasha has to dance with Bette Midler instead.
I get the feeling he's not bothered... but that may just be wishful thinking...

He's ultra ultra ultra awesome, all muscley arms (from hefting around his buxom partner) and strutting around. Swoon!

Results Show:

The first two couples come out - Lauren & Neil and Lacey & Kameron. It's someone's birthday but I miss it becasue I'm too busy mocking Miss M's choice of favourite. That child has NO taste.

Thankfully Cat cuts down on the endless filler suspense this week and gives the results straight up - Lacey and Kameron are safe, and get hustled off the stage pronto.

Of the next three couples, Jaimie and Hok are safe, as are Sabra and Dominic, but Sara and Jesús will have to DFTL*. Everyone is rushed off the stage again, and Cat is getting a little stressed trying to keep this show on what is obviously a very tight schedule.
Mainly because of Jessi who is suddenly able to dance again. She'll be dancing a solo because she failed to dance the night before... Apparently she got dehydrated... Is that it? Dancing is her life and she forgot to keep hydrated???? Hmmm. I'm getting severe 'princess' vibes here.
Anyway, thankfully Pasha is safe! And amazingly enough, so are Cedric and Shauna! Mary's frank assessment of his talent must have prompted a tide of sympathy votes. Bugger about that! Which means that Anya and Danny are the final couple in the Bottom Three, and don't they look surprised at the situation!

The solos are 30 seconds right? So why does Lauren spend most of her time coming down the stairs and taking off her jacket? More entitlement issues here I suspect. Her remaining 10 seconds are ok though...

Neil however spends 95% of his 30 seconds suspended in midair! It was a mad mad pirouette city...

Sara doesn't take anythign for granted and just rocks out. As does her partner Jesús - dancing to 'What i like about you' complete with air guitar!

In an amazing turn of events Jessi appears on stage completely clothed, and does some uninspired breakdancey stuff.

Whereas Danny gives us a dramatic demonstration of his classical training, with yet more pirouettes!

I can't remember much of Anya's dance, seeing as I was mesmerised by the neon blue fetheryness of her dress.

And the less said about Fergie the better, don't we agree?

The judges are wearing their cranky pants tonight, declaring that none of the girls were good enough, none of them took their solo seriously, before bluntly telling Jessi that she is going. fullstop. no discussion. No mention of the other dancers.
She's shocked, but petulant. Refuses to say anything other than that she'll miss Pasha. She pulls an almighty bitchface and stomps off in a huff, pretty much.

Which is a total contrast to the guys, where Neil and Danny are applauded as being totally and utterly awesome, leaving Jesús as only mostly awesome and therefore the one going home.
He gives a lovely, gracious, grateful speech... hoping that he can continue to help kids realise their dreams... aww. see Jessi? That's what being a performer is all about.

*DFTL - Dancing For Their Lives. obvs. I'm getting so sick of writing it...

Press Gang: Photo Finish (AKA The One Where All The Adults Are Stupid)

Right-o. For those that want to play along at home JB HiFi are STILL selling whole seasons of this brilliance for $12.95 each. There’s no bonus features to get you all excited but there is plenty of Spike, a good amount of Lynda and yes, even some Colin and Fraz. And the DVD covers are delightfully amateurish.

Stupidly, they’re also selling the complete series box set – for $62.95 – which is a whole eleven bucks more than all the sets together, but, you know, if you like your TV shows all boxed up, you could buy that too. It might have features – who knows?

Anyway – on with the show. Roll credits. I fear my neighbours can hear how often the Press Gang credits play in my house. I’m not embarrassed, but, you know – I might be if they ever played anything other than UB40.

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Once the parade of turn-and-smile is done, we open on the newest member of the Junior Gazette – Lynda’s swear box. Lynda approaches, clipboard in hand, and drops a handful of coins into it – I’m guessing she swore up a storm earlier. Today’s outfit is a big BLUE t-shirt, black skirt and blazer.

I’m ashamed to say I still kinda love the way she dresses, even though it is really not all that cool.

Then there’s all the usual good stuff: Lynda criticizes Kenny. Kenny takes it. Lynda criticizes at arty girl who will henceforth be known as Julie. Julie pulls a bitchface. Spike pays out on Lynda. Lynda pays out on Spike. Sarah whinges. Lynda criticizes someone else in a witty way and yells at some other people, and Spike pays out on her some more. It’s all fairly generic and irrelevant but quite funny. Just get the DVD’s ok and then you can laugh too.

Lynda then tells Spike she needs him to get more info on the Disco story. Remember the disco story everyone? There were three men outside a disco. One was the owner. Danny took some photos and it’s the ‘big story’ for the first edition because there’s a rumour the disco might be sold off for a supermarket.

It may be their big story, but sadly I just don’t care: which sucks for me because it’s the main focus of this episode.

Oh wait, Kenny just offered to do a Hillwalking feature. Suddenly the Disco thing sounds way awesome. Hillwalking? Really? Even for Kenny that’s some unexcitement.

Spike offers Lynda sexual favours in a roundabout way and for some reason I don’t understand she turns him down. In favour of hillwalking. Freak.

Lynda needs Spike to get her some more info on the disco story and all I can think of is Disco night on Idol, which didn’t suck too bad. Sadly, they’re not discussing how Ben is the BB Zach of Idol and making me all squee-ey, because that would be interesting, unlike the three men outside some random disco, who are not.

Spike tries to use the disco thing to blackmail Lynda into going to see a band with him. It doesn’t come off too well – mostly because she’s already going and no, Spike, not with a girlfriend. Or her brother. Or her sister. Or her mother. Or her father. Or her dog, since he asked.

She’s going with James Armstrong. Who Julie – who is for some reason reading Lynda’s clipboard while all this goes on - thinks is mighty fine.

Spike does a sulk which is very cute but really kind of pathetic. Lynda has to do all sorts of ego flattery to get him out of the newsroom and on his way out he admits to Kenny in the most delightfully simpering way that he would drink Lynda’s bathwater.

Yes – her bathwater. Presumably after she had bathed in it. Now, that there is a crush. No wonder we all wanted to be Lynda when we were growing up.

Not that I want anyone drinking my bathwater … ew.

Probably.

Just then, a phone rings. This is exciting because they don’t have a phone, and so everyone goes hunting for it and it continues to ring for a really long time before someone finds it in a drawer and Lynda answers it with a buttload of unnecessary trepadation.

We cut to Spike walking up the High Street and into the local greasy spoon – Czars, which it truly greasy and awesome because it has arcade games and faux-wood paneled walls – like I wanted my room to be when I was seven. Spike and Czar exchange a little bit of banter and I’m thinking that this is truly a greasy greasy spoon. Too greasy for me even, which is a feat.

Back in the newsroom Lynda is putting coin after coin into her swearbox. I am kind of annoyed that we never get to hear her swear, given she seems to do it so often. Not surprisingly for anyone who’s seen more than an episode and a half of this, it’s Colin at the other end of the line and the phone is a dodgy fix that basically involves stealing phone line from Kerr over at the big Gazette -

Allow me some editorial comment here. I love this show but I have to call bullshit here. Kerr has given them a building and a shitload of photographic paper and is paying for the printing of their newspaper and he hasn’t given them a phone?? Were phone lines prohibitively expensive in the UK in the late 80’s? Is this like that TV license thing? Because we’re talking a phone line here – how the fuck would they function without one?

- None of which changes the fact that Lynda is furious and in the process of dragging Colin back to the newsroom so she can kill him.

Back at the Greasy, Spike and Fraz are bantering and it takes them all of four seconds to figure out that they’ve both been assigned to the disco story and that Lynda doesn’t think either of them will get anywhere.

They’ve been played, and Spike is none to impressed. He’s all ‘Are we going to let her get away with this?’ and ‘She thinks we’re stupid! Why does she think we’re stupid?’ – to which Fraz answers ‘yeah’ and ‘maybe somebody told her’ – which is why I love Fraz. He’s so adorably clueless.

I don’t love how high Fraz wears his tight blue jeans so much. I’m glad the 80’s are over. Why are you fashionistas insisting on bringing them back?

Spike makes an executive decision that they’re going to ‘show her’ and get disco info. Fraz rightly points out that that is exactly what Lynda wants them to do, and he’s right. I love Fraz.

As Spike perves on a girl in incredibly high mom-jeans, a couple of what I can only assume are his friends come around the corner. The jibe him for joining the Junior Gazette. He gets all macho and tries to take them on. There’s a very cute ‘who do you think you are? Rambo? Superman? James Armstrong?’ thing and the boys walk off, leaving Spike looking rather annoyed.

He does annoyed very very well.

Back at the newsroom – damn all this cutting between two concurrent scenes, it makes me very tired - there’s a bit of a panic because Chrissie is about to interrupt this whole argument between Lynda and Colin about the phone by bursting in and discovering it. They all play hide-the-phone, which is a much more frantic game than it should be.

Aaaand back in the street Spike and Fraz are interrogating a local shopkeeper about the new supermarket. Unsurprisingly the shopkeeper is none too thrilled as he thought the council had scrapped the whole supermarket plan. Sigh. I’m bored of the supermarket. I’d ignore all the dialogue and pay attention to the music but it is just so cheesy I need crackers.

Back at the newsroom (again) Chrissie’s awesome haircut is talking deadlines and I’m loving it. Lynda asks her to have a look at some stuff and Chrissie’s haircut reminds her that she knows the rule: they’re not looking at the paper until it’s printed. And – for the second time – I have to call bullshit. Surely a newspaperman as experienced as Matt Kerr – who is almost certainly going to be listed as the publisher of this little rag, is not as stupid as to print and release a newspaper written by a bunch of inexperienced teenagers without so much as reading over it to check he’s not likely to get sued? Riiight. I forget sometimes that this show was aimed at kids.

And then the phone rings. Stupidly everyone panics and Kenny unplugs it and so obviously Chrissie straight away picks that something dodgy is going on., and she freaks and reinforces to everyone that Kerr is going to be furious. Which is really kind of lucky because it means Chrissie isn’t going to tell him.

I mean really … it’s a phone!!!

Once Chrissie and her awesome hair and her even more awesome blue pinstriped jacket with rolled up sleeves take their leave, Lynda approaches Colin with something akin to murder in her eyes. Thankfully for him, Sarah pulls her of and the two of them go off to get more disco info.

You see where we’re going here? You see? That’s right. It’s Spike and Fraz versus Lynda and Sarah. The swots versus the rebels. The geeks versus the cools. It’s on.

Fraz and Spike are on their way to the council because Spike ‘knows someone’ whose dad is on the council. There’s a very cute phone call where this ‘friend’ – Debbie – goes on and on about new guy she’s semi-stalking who’s taller and better looking than Spike and whose name is – you guessed it – James Armstrong. Poor Spike.

So, Lynda and Sarah show up at the council and get turned away by their contact and they’re all furious and Lynda has obviously been swearing a lot off-screen because she’s going on and on about her swearbox. And, of course, they run into Spike and Fraz and there’s a whole competitive thing and then Lynda and Sarah leave and Fraz and Spike consider ways to get in to see the council contact and of course there’s a photo on the wall of the area’s ‘Young Person Of The Year’ who is – yep – James Armstrong, and Spike gets all huffy and has a brainwave and the next thing we know he’s in a Viking costume and charming the pants off a middle-aged council lady and getting the interview that Lynda and Spike couldn’t.

Victory. I’m still bored of the disco story but go Team Cools!

Back at the newsroom there’s a whole bunch of exposition about where we’re at with the disco story – which according to the swots is precisely nowhere. Fraz comes over and announces that he’s finally got all twelve star signs and the rest of them – rather predictably – start throwing a whole bunch of fake ones at him. I don’t blame them: there is something utterly alluring about his confused face. And of course it comes out that Spike got the interview that Lynda couldn’t get, and instead of being thrilled that someone’s got her anything that resembles an actual story, she’s furious that he’s not in the newsroom filling her in … about the interview. Obviously.

Minds out of the gutter people. Now.

Lynda and Fraz find Spike at Czars basically posing for a slacker tableaux. Five or six boys in tight high jeans and jackets are stage talking and laughing with ‘Czar’ while generic 80’s rock music plays in the background. Some of them are wearing sunglasses inside.

Lynda waltzes in, takes his arm and proceeds to humiliate him – calling him darling and reminding him about his ballet classes and even going so far as to threaten to read out some of his poetry to the group. Spike looks like his mom just checked his underpants for skid marks in the playground. Lynda looks almost unbearably smug.

He pulls her aside and there’s some hotness as they glare each other off in fury before he hands over the results of his interview: which are not much. An official denial.

All of a sudden, there’s some very exciting music and some even more exciting 80’s special effects and a newspapers spins onto the screen. Omg! They made it! It’s the first edition. And the owner of the disco and his two mates made the cover. Awesome!

We cut to Lynda looking nervous with Kerr reads the paper, and he tells her off for breaking the first rule of journalism and not checking her sources.

Which pisses me off. She asked for one of you adults to look at it before it went to print, and you wouldn’t, and now all this angry about these rules? Did you actually explain the first rule of journalism to her at any point? Or was she meant to figure that out for herself too?

Yes, I know. TV show. Calm blue ocean.

The next scene has Lynda at the town hall while the middle-aged council lady looks all sour and denies there will be a new supermarket and calls the paper a bunch of names and says they were wrong and irresponsible and alarmist and you know what – this is stupid.

If they used her ‘official denial’ – and I have to assume they did, what on earth is the problem? The extent of the story probably runs something like this:

‘A meeting between the owner of the disco and these two mysterious men on Friday is fuelling speculation that the site is being sold off for a supermarket. Such a move would anger local shopkeepers. Councillor Sour-Face has denied that a new supermarket be built on the site.’

… except with more words, from the look of that front cover.

And I just don’t get what on earth the problem with that is, or just how they managed to offend every single shopkeeper in town printing it (unless it makes them all look like wusses in the face of a bit of competition, which it kind of does). Local papers print this kind of crap every week around here and no-one goes nuts.

Lynda’s all nervous and anxious and it’s all looking very bad and she does a rubicks cube in anger because she’s given up swearing.

Is this the end of the Junior Gazette? Already? After just two episodes?

Pah! No.

And guess who comes to the rescue?

OMG! It’s Fraz! And he’s had a thought! A real one! If the supermarket isn’t being sold off for a disco – what were those two men doing outside the disco that day?

Good question, Fraz, and here we might get our answer, as we cut to two men being arrested and put in the back of a police car while an old detective-type dude looks all seriously but smugly at his copy of the Junior Gazette. It’s all serious, with ultra-serious music playing.

Thankfully, Lynda explains everything to Spike and Kenny outside the copshop after her unseen interview with the police. As it turns out, the two guys with the owner were professional arsonists!! And the arson squad recognized them from the picture on the cover of the Junior Gazette and figured out that they were going to torch the place for insurance money and arrested them!! It’s amazing! Not only is the Junior Gazette still in business but they’re superheroes!

I call bullshit, and the credits roll.

Credit talkies is a bit between Spike and Kenny about how Kenny has never been on a date. When did the ultra-cool dude become friends with the guy with no personality? Did I miss this?

Grade: C- and not a lot of Spike/Lynda hotness to make up for it. Sigh. I never said it was going to be all flowers and sunshine, kids.

A televisual dilemma (yes, another one)

So I have been waiting, with some interest, to see Studio 60 on Sunset Strip.





It's the new(ish - remembering we live in the backwaters where Curb your Enthusiasm is considered late-night viewing) show by Aaron Sorkin, starring the excellent Bradley Whitford* and The West Wing via Friends star, Matthew Perry.

(here is the space where pictures would go,

if I could find any that weren't the size of postage stamps)

The show - which is based on the behind the scenes drama of a live-sketch comedy show -draws on influences like Network and the Larry Sanders Show. It seems promising enough, although Wikipedia and others are circulating rumours that its first season is also its last. I don't really care. Using Actonb's parlance, I'm a fangirl where Sorkin and Whitford are concerned**, and I'd probably watch it even if it was depressingly average.

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But now here is my dilemma.





CHANNEL NINE HAS THE GODDAMN RIGHTS.





Yes, you heard me. CHANNEL NINE.





Those dudes that, in their programming wisdom, screened The West Wing at an insane 10:30pm time-slot. Those dudes that seem to be programming endless hours of inane commercial re-runs and "whoops-a-daisy" style shows right now. Those dudes that, frankly, I do my darnedest to avoid.





I don't know, I'm a committed teev watcher and all that, but I'm thinking....maybe I should just buy the DVD?












* Whitford is also married to the awesome Jane Kaczmarek. I like to consider them some kind of alternative Brangelina.

* I even once considered watching 'Revenge of the Nerds III' when I heard Whitford was in it - don't worry, I'm not THAT tragic

So you think you can rely on The Help?

Because I sure as hell can't...

Last week I had to travel across Sydney for a stupid meeting which didn't even finish until10pm. And then there was a 2 hour trip home. There was getting lost, there was rain, there were tears, there were many many shouted curses at the Bloody RTA and their Bloody lack of signage...
Anyway... all this means that MrB forgot to record SYTYCD. He was watching the damn show with the Big Girls, but didn't think to record it until 8:30.

Don't worry. He has been thoroughly chastised and promises it won't happen again...

It turns out that MrB wasn't the only one stuffing up, as Ten managed to screw up their editing of two shows into one, keeping all the filler yet somehow neglecting to include one of the actual dances. Right...

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So I will have to rely on the opinions of the Big Girls:
" Yeah... they danced. It was good." And I assure you - that's verbatim.

On to the (truncated) show... and we come in just as Lacey and Kameron are being judged following their Broadway routine. I am immediately assaulted by competing thoughts:

Hee! Mia has a Mullet... Mia Mullet Michaels. Man I do love me some alliteration.
Damn! I missed Broadway? Lacey's wearing suspenders? Suspenders and jazz hands? Cool!
Grrr! MrB will pay for this...

Mia appears to be just as much a fan of alliteration as me, rambling on and on about sexiness and spiciness and sassiness ans other nessesss. With a random 'ewww' thrown in for good measure. I gather the suspenders just weren;t sexy enough for her.... says the lady with the mullet? I mean Kameron's wearing a wife-beater, surely that's the epitome of sexy? I fear I will never understand the mind of a contemporary dancer...

Mary decides that the routine has made 'Danger' their middle names... What kind of Broadway dance was this? I'm a little afraid to approach youtube now... although I have been inspired by Danger!

Oh! And look! Lacey's Dad is in the audience with his 3 foot long neon sign... Now that's dangerous...

Ad break, and I'm so tired that the ANZ Falcon ad has me in fits of giggles. Hee! falcon!

I'm sorry? But WTF is Cat wearing tonight??? A giant tablecloth? Complete with fringeing? Oh Cat, you know I love you, but seriously, what is it with the increasingly random fits of fancy fashion-wise?

Yay! I finally get to actually watch a dance routine, and double-yay because it's Anya and Danny. Anya apparently started ballroom at 10 years old, because that's kinda the done thing in Russia these days - simply everyone is doing it dahling... Although she was just there for the sparkly dresses - this is a girl after my own heart! Danny started dancing to keep out of trouble - the same hard luck story we've heard many times before, and one that fails to hold my interest because of the severe lack of sparkly dress references.
They'll be dancing the Viennese Waltz which, as everyone knows, is simply a faster version of the slow waltz... got that? But with extra added centrif- ugal forces. Yes. Centriffffigal forces. huh? Ohhhh centri-fugal forces. Right. Because dancing is just like aerobatics dontcha know?
It's actually a gorgeous dance, despite the unfortunate salmon-hued dress Anya is forced to wear. Beautiful lines, lovely travelling (hee! Get me being all technical!) perfect partnering. I'm impressed. It's so damn good in fact that we're treated to a patented Mary Scream, and I kinda want to join in...

It's going to be a hard act to follow for poor Shauna and Jimmy, who are going to be doing a Hip Hop routine. They're both contemp dancers, been dancing since they were knee-high to a grass hopper etc etc. But they're enthusiastic and they're attempting some Stepping, which seems to me just to be poor man's Tap Dog. MrB kindly informs me that it's like the eponymous Singing In The Rain dance, and it's probably an analogy that Dave Scott the famous hiphop choreographer wouldn't be too happy with... It's not very ghetto is it?
They throw themselves into it, and like Nigel says, using the 'F' word - it's tonnes of Fun! Although I think most of the fun comes from the coordinating SYTYCD trackies... is it sad that I kinda want a pair? Especially if they are as performance-enhancing as they appear.

And... that's it. Huh? Two dances? I get to see two measley dances? Not Happy Jan!

Results Show:

Cat seems to have listened to everyone's comments about her stalking around the floor like Big Bird and decided that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, and tonight is dressed entirely in canary yellow. And it's very, um ... yellow. And also, just ever so slightly retina-burning.

She's also decided to adopt Big Bird's mildly patronising tone, telling the audience that we 'need a bit of hush now...' before confronting the first batch of lab rats with her Envelopes of Doom.

Neil and Lauren who danced a Hip Hop routine in a tutu and basketball boots are inexplicably safe.
Pasha and Jessi who did some bizarre bird-related modern dance obviously didn't manage to garner the ornithologist vote and are (dum dum dummmm) in the Bottom Three.
Jaimie and Hok, despite having danced a dodgy samba are safe. Because they're just so totally gorgeous, obvs. Everyone can see that...

Kameron, Lacey and her dangerous suspenders are safe, as are Anya, Danny, Sabra and Dominic. Less safe is more Cat who is pounced on by the pint-sized Dom and then Sabra, leaving the poor girl all flushed and in need of a fan...

Oooh... suspense... three couples left, only one of whom will be safe, gee whizz, who can it be?

Oh! It would be Sara and Jesús with their apparently non-existent pasa doble. STUPID CHANNEL TEN! You completely stuff up Torchwood, and now you're playing God with SYTYCD? Oooh *shakes fist ineffectually*

Meaning of course that it's Shauna, Jimmy, Cedric and Faina joining Jessi and Pasha in the Dance For Their Lives...

The judges have their say, and their say seems to consist mainly of a lecture to Cedric - that his dance style is unique, but that they don't think the competition is right for him - blah blah, he doesn't like doing other people's choreography, he's a crap partner, but he's still 'unique'. But that he's not to take all this pointed criticism personally. No....

And on to the solos - first up is Jessi who attempts a blatant Demetri rip-off by constantly lifting her dress up. But she ain't Demetri, she's just a very naughty girl. Who knows exactly what she's doing.

Pasha bizarrely reminds me of Jensen Ackles, however that may be a combination of the jeans, the hard rock and my own fervant imagination.


Shauna absolutely blitzes it, with this awesome spinny piruette-y thing while holding her leg up next to her head. Sounds bizarre but was pretty amazing. She apparently left her heart up on the stage in the process though, so I'd suggest that Kids! Don't try this at home!

Jimmy, um, dances?

Whereas Faina does this cute little jivey thing in a 50s dress and a headscarf. When asked what she thinks when she's waiting backstage for her chance to 'Dance for her life' she answers "well, I just think 'I'm gong to dance now' *girly giggle*"

hmmm....

'Unique' Cedric does his thang and apparently he's at peace. Harumph.

The judges are unanimous regarding the girls:
They think that Jessi's solo sucked, but that she gets to stay. Shauna's solo rocked and she gets to stay. Leaving poor Faina, who's 'unique' partner let her down, even though her dancing was very very good indeed and so now she's going home.

That's sucks. That makes me cranky.

The judges however are not unanimous about the guys:
Pasha's awesome rocking solo wasn't up to scratch, which just shows that the judges have NO imagination. Cedric's solo was, well, unique... prompting another little lecture from Nigel, but to the effect that they're going to give him Another Frigging Chance, because he's just so frigging UNIQUE. So basically Jimmy's going home without a word being said about him. And then he starts crying... awww blesss. You can so tell he's a contemp dancer. He'll probably go choreo a dance all about having his heart broken by a dancer of peculiar uniqueness. It will involve lots of jumping and throwing oneself to the floor. Heartbrokenly.

In short: Cranky to start off with and cranky to end. Not a very satisfying STYTCD experience at all. Sorry...
But I promise I'm in charge of the remote this Thursday... will you forgive me???

Excuses, excuses

SYTYCD recap coming up tonight.

I promise!!!

Far out! I am such a slacker. And I even assured Chesty it'd be done by Monday latest.

I ought to be spanked.

Utterly disgusted by the outcome of tonight's Idol decision. Tarisai should NOT have been in the bottom three, and as bland as he is, neither should Daniel Mifsud.

Just now when I was texting a message outlining my disgust at Marty still being in the competition, the word that came up instead of Marty was 'nasty' which, if you think about it, is close enough anyway. HE DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE THERE, PEOPLE.

As a sign of my outrage, I won't be doing any more Idol blogging until Marty is gone from the competition.

(It's also because I feel like I'm hogging all the Idol snarking from the rest of the Square Arses, but that's just a sidenote to the main reason.)

BOOOO MARTY.

UPDATE -- This is the video replay of my reaction to Marty Simpson getting through unscathed:



Yes, I am a Swedish woman. Didn't you know?

Australian Idol (now with 100% less Brianna Carpenter!)

EVEN THOUGH I'm determined not to go in head first into this Idol blogging thing, as there are already excellent recappers out there, I actually set up the TV next to my computer so that I could take notes for tonight's ep, as I am tired of trying to remember what my harsh, off the cuff judgements were. This means that I have officially put more effort into Idol this year than year 12 legal studies.

So yeah, Disco Night, and you know what? It wasn't that bad. Crappy performances were limited only to those who were already pretty crap to begin with (Marty Simpson, Lana Krost, Jacob Butler) so I wasn't quite ejecting my bowels like I was during last week's episode, which was just a forgettable load of bollocks. And unlike Rock Night, there were no slippery interpretations of the chosen theme, with the possible exception of a Hot Chocolate song in the brew, which as Dicko helpfully pointed out is reggae. But whatever, I can deal.

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Tarasai shouted Hot Stuff. Immediately I am reminded of Cosima De Vito's performance of that song, and I pray to the baby Jesus that she doesn't try to bring out the same unsexy hip thrusts that Cosima utilised way back in 2003. (Wow, how good is my memory?) Anyway - my reception kind of went retarded, so I missed most of it, but I've seen enough of Tarasai's on stage shouting routine not to expect anything mind blowing, and if she did do the hip thrusts then I didn't see it, so that's all good.

Her hair was kinda weird though. Lots of spirals and shit.

Up next is Ben McKenzie.



No, not that Ben McKenzie, silly. The slightly less masculine one. Yeah, him.

As usual Ben is adorable. The start of the song is slightly retarded, and slowed down, but I don't care because it's Ben. He's done a lot of research and lists all this useless trivia about the song, like he's doing a presentation on it for class the next morning or something. Perhaps he's turning into Dicko, and is relishing the opportunity to give lengthy tutorials on every obscure fact about music?

He sings Michael Jackson's Don't Stop Til You Get Enough, and it is a vast improvement on last week's, and I get pretty into it.

Even after last week's veritable gay bashing, wherein he was told that he was feminine and pooncy, Mark decides to do a complete 360 and advises Ben to embrace his androgyny. The audience, comprised entirely of bogan mums and screaming bogan girls, clearly have no idea what the word means, as they are unsure whether to boo. I love how the judges own the audience like that - like how Kyle tells the kids to shut up and stuff, and they do. Makes me lol every time.

PS. Michael Jackson would seriously try to molest Ben McKenzie.

Then it's Mark Da Costa, whose name I'm getting sick of typing out. It doesn't seem worth the effort writing about Mark, there just aren't too many times you can rephrase the sentence "tryhard rocker with lots of ugly stubble tries to sing Jet."

The thing I hate about his performance, firstly, is that he tells the audience that they can dance before he's started singing. Jeez, why not tell them to applaud really loudly, and ask Mark to give him a Touchdown? Stupid.

He's also wearing a crucifix, which is lame, because he wears one virtually every week, and I can't imagine WHY he does it. Is it because Christian rock is so hardcore? Because, like... no.

Marcia tells us to look in his eyes, as he is apparently "in the zone." Um, okay. Not sure what zone Marcia is in, but I imagine it's full of shiny things and blue cars and dogs with puffy tails. Mark has a shoulder spasm, which I think is meant to indicate that he felt a Touchdown coming on, but instead he settles for a high pitched OOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooh! noise. Riiiiight. *cough* queer *cough*


Ads: Is Rove cross-legged on a desk wearing red lace-up emo shoes? Are we absolutely sure that he isn't a fifth grader himself?


I'm totally guffawing at Lana Krost's performance, because I just KNOW that she will be eliminated any week now, and she will cry and it will be simultaneously the worst and funniest two minutes of television this year. Anyway, I noticed in her video package that she has a slightly American accent - she pronounces Disco as "discow" for instance. What's the deal with that?

Mark asks her if she would rather be performing on Idol or preparing to do her HSC exams or something (whatever it is in those wacky Eastern states, I don't know). Hm. That's a touch choice. School, or being on TV every week. I am utterly shocked that she said she'd rather be singing on Idol than doing exams. Afterthought: how in hell is she revising for said exams anyway?

Eh, Jacob Butler next. He's another contestant who I just struggle to find a different combination of words with which to describe his pleading onstage manner. But in the spirit of things, I'll give it a go:

He sang Jamiroquai. His falsetto is rubbish. He hops and bops around on stage and there are whales in the Pacific Ocean who are picking up on the awkward vibes that this guy is radiating. He is wearing a tracksuit. I think John Howard and Vicky Pollard collaborated on his outfit tonight. He is WELL gonna get beatings from the voting public I reckon.

Dicko condemns him for his 'dad dancing' (heh), Marcia says some crap that no one cares about, and Mark's advice?

"Be brilliant."

Uh-huh.

Next performer, and it's......... bletch. Marty Simpson.

He's singing You Sexy Thing (do you reckon he'll sing the T Shirt version, do ya, do ya, do ya?).

Strike one: He's wearing an orange shirt with a vest. Pukesome.
Strike two: Starts off the performance on a stool.
Strike three: He sings "I believe in mirror balls" at the end.

Still dirty. Still untalented. I want him gone.

Dicko says he needs a clip around the ears (perhaps with a good pair of shearing clippers, followed by a dunk in the sheep dip?), and Mark comes out with a rare bit of commentary gold, saying he looked and sounded like Agro.

Then Marty excuses himself by saying that he isn't used to singing covers. Did you read that, folks? HE ISN'T USED TO SINGING COVERS. To be fair, his family probably doesn't own a television, so I can understand if he isn't familiar with the Idol concept. (Hm, too far?)

Daniel Mifsud is up next, and he sings something by the Rolling Stones (you know - those icons of disco music), with some particularly chilling Bow Chika Wah Wah music in the background. His favourite grey scarf is absent. The whole thing is boring, so I'll move right along to...

Carl Riseley, who sings "September" by Earth Wind and Fire. He isn't completely bastardising the theme this week, which is a bit of a relief even though I don't much care for Carl, but his scatting is sucky AS. Dude, there's a reason why scat is another word for shit, because that's what it is. Shit.

He closes his eyes too much when he sings, which aggravates me. New rule: Only Toni Collette and Nick Hoult are allowed to sing with their eyes closed, but only if they are singing a duet of Killing Me Softly on the piano. Everyone else has to stop with the pretentious closed-eye singing, because it grates. Other than that, it isn't a terrible performance, Kyle announces the triumphant return of the sailor that the judges once knew and loved.

Another thing about Carl that I've noticed, is that he always has a compulsion to speak in between judges, even though he's kind of inarticulate and it comes off as making excuses. I'm a bit over Carl, good performance or not.


Ads: Everybody, can we please boycott Head and Shoulders and Pascall?


Okay! Here we go, it's time for Idol fans to slide into its sexy lacy knickers, because Matt Corby is about to serenade us with a song. First his video package, in which he reflects upon his performance last week, and how humble he is, and how he hopes he won't get killed for tonight's performance, and even though it's probably a load of bollocks I believe every word he says.

He's singing Got To Get You Into My Life, a song choice which can only be described as OMGWTFBBQ TEH AWESOME LOLZ, and he hits the notes so well that even I am impressed. They're powerful, and seemingly effortless, and he doesn't have that aura of trying too hard that so often shrouds the other Idols' performances. It's a fantastic performance, and it deservingly gets the first Touchdown of the series. The new Touchdown! graphics look kind of povo, like they were done by a year eight kid on Powerpoint, but HOORAY! Finally!

Marcia says she loved the song, the notes and the lack of fear; you go boy. Kyle says he would pay money to see it, and I agree.

UPDATE: It's already on Youtube.

It's a biiiiig mother of an act to follow, so it's lucky for Natalie Gauci that she's singing a song which is guaranteed to go down well: I Will Survive.

There are a few moments of unnecessary vocal gymnastics which are a little questionable, but once she gets into the performance it's upbeat and overall a pretty solid effort. Devoid of any trademark lines of his own, Dicko says it gets a "big ticko from Dicko". I doubt it will catch on, but we'll see.

Kyle asks where the drag queens are. If I hadn't defended Ben McKenzie in my last Idol post against unfair statements about his sexuality, I would suggest that he come out and grind with Matt Corby on stage. But that's more for my benefit than Natalie's, so nyar.


So after a pretty decent selection of performances, I think we can be assured that this year's Idol isn't set to be the trainwreck that we witnessed last week. My guesses are usually pretty far off the mark, but I'm going to nominate Marty Simpson, Jacob Butler and Lana Krost as my favourites for the bottom three. Now that I've said it it will be completely jinxed, but what the hey.

Oh. My. God.

Best Dr Who episode EVER.

Will post when I've recovered from teh awesome.

~genuflections, etc.~

It's the plain situation, there's no negotiation, with the fellas at the freakin ABC

Has enough time lapsed since the last post? Must get this in quick, otherwise it'll be irrelevant...

I'll tell you this for free, I don't care at all for this stupid blathering about how "controversial" Summer Heights High is. Whoever seriously thinks that Chris Lilley and the executives in charge of the ABC* are trying to use the death of some chick who died of an overdose to score a cheap laugh are clearly suffering from something much worse than Heightened Morality Complex - they've got The Stupid.

I was watching A Current Affair tonight for the first time in ages (well, it was either that or get emotionally worked up over the dreadful state of Neighbours) and their story on it was so predictable and annoying. They interviewed some lame experts, all of whom agreed that taking drugs is most definitely NOT funny, and that having a joke at the expense of a "victim" of drugs is WRONG. Um, derbrains, the joke wasn't against the girl who had the overdose; the joke was Mr G's appallingly insensitive reaction to the death.

And it WAS funny.

Plus, some of those songs he wrote were kind of catchy. So... deal with it, everyone.

That the girl in the program and the girl who died of a drug overdose had the same name is coincidence, since the program had ceased production ten days before this woman died. The ABC shouldn't be expected to edit out that entire plotline, or even change the name (I'm presuming with the use of a lot of "Mr Black" type dubbing, a la Krusty), and its managing director, Mark Scott, was being way too reactionary in apologising to the girl's family. Believe it or not, this style of mockumentary is meant to cover some of the things that most of us, for some reason or another, would really rather avoid. It's called satire, look it up.

This kind of thing is what I consider to be real political correctness - I mean, it's rated M, everyone who watched this show has to know by now that it isn't actually real, and most of the 'edgy' content isn't really all that edgy anyway. And yet people continue to bitch about it.

I cringed more during the scenes where Jonah had some mysterious stains on his shorts, and when Ja'mie was trying to hit on a little year seven boy. How much did you feel sorry for him when she stole his phone, looked through his messages, and smashed it right in front of him? Poor kid.

* B1 and B2.

PS -- a million points to whoever gets the reference in the title.

PPS -- apologies to my fellow Square Arses for being responsible for all the yucky Google hits.

An open letter to Anton Enus

Dear Anton,

You know I adore you. You are by far the most beautiful newsreader on Australian television.

I love your accent - South African, yet ever so slightly BBC.

I love your dapper dress sense - your ties, shirts and suits are always so beautifully coordinated. (Straight men just can't do it with the panache that you do.)

I love your face - not quite perfect, yet so attractive.

I love the fact that you aren't that crass interloper Evil Stan Grant who forced poor dear Mary from her rightful place on the 6.30 desk.

But Anton, dear, have you dyed your hair? I do hope not.

Press Gang: Page One (AKA: The First One)

I grew up on Press Gang and it is - to this day - the show I hold the fondest memories of and I am most likely to squee over. And rewatching it as an adult proves that it is still totally awesome - if a little silly at times. As such, there's nothing I'd rather recap over the next forty-three weeks (eep) than this fine piece of young adult viewing. So pull up a pew, get out your notepad and your pencil and your swearbox and travel back in time with me ... to 1989. When TV was good.

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We open on the Junior Gazette newsroom - it’s messy and dingy and grungy and full of badly-but-boringly dresses young journos. The walls are half-painted, probably because the set guys ran out of money or time or both. I’m guessing they sold it to the powers that be by using the word ‘atomsphere’ a lot – and, you know, it kind of works.

And setting the tone for the entire series, a girl in a huuuge tomato red t-shirt and teeny little skirt barks orders at a chubby geeky type with a clipboard who takes them with minimal eye-rolling. A stoned-looking guy deadpans something amusing but nonsensical about horoscopes and a funny-looking blonde girl is yelling about … something. An ‘arty looking’ (read: huge hair, rolled up sleeves, accessories) girl presents what I can only describe as a rather average masthead design.

Tomato doesn’t like it. Arty pulls a bitchface and skulks off.

A woman with an awesome helmet-come-afro-come-sculpted-mullet pokes her hair - er, head through the front door and there is some talking about graphics teams and tours of the print room. I don’t catch it because I’m just in awe of the hair. It’s … beyond recapping.

Some guy named Danny is asleep on the chair and gets a rude awakening as Tomato (or as the others call her: Lynda) wakes him with an abrupt and slightly smarmy ‘Five days to the first edition, Danny! Five days!’

And then there’s a kerfuffle as chubby geeky Kenny has been trying to tell Lynda it’s 8.30, and when he succeeds she seems surprised that they’ve been going for three hours, quietens the room and shoos them all off with ‘time for school’.

We’re meant to be surprised that these are school kids, but I’ve seen this show a hundred times and the only surprising thing about that whole thing is that it’s 8.30 and they’ve been there for three hours – so, from 5.30. In the AM. Because, like, um, so many teenagers – even super keen, swatty type teenagers – are doing anything at 5.30 in the am other than sleeping? I think not.

Cue the credits. They deserve a recap all of their own but this one is looking rather long already so that may have to come in with the second edition. Suffice to say: lots of turning to camera, and smiling/smirking to some delightfully cheesy music. There’s a few faces we’re yet to see … And no Danny. Dum. Dum. Dum.

The show proper (because all that was just ‘setting the scene’) opens with a set of oft used ‘newspaper clippings of exposition’. As the camera pans across the wall of clippings, we learn that some mullet named Matt Kerr quit a whole bunch of high-powered papers to edit a local paper, and started a junior version of it. Ah. Is it all falling into place for you too?

The exposition done, the camera pans to the Mullet himself … and it’s a ginger one. Ginger mullet is having an adult-type chat with a tubby, bald man with a ’stashe right out of the 70’s porn industry. Apparently the the ’stashe is using the mullet’s kiddy paper as a dumping ground for his more ‘energetic’ students – a charge which the ’stashe denies – pointing out that in actual fact he’s sent equal numbers or swats and ruffians. And with that, the ’stashe pulls out a Bart-Simpson-thick school file and dares the mullet to take this one on.

James Thompson.

Spike.

Spike’s mug fills the screen. He looks delightfully pouty – it’s an expression those lips are made for, and we are flashing back to a school board meeting. Spike is being reminded of his various misdemeanours and suspensions and his latest indiscretion at the school dance. He continues to pout as he is given his last chance: the Junior Gazette.

And then through some clever editing, Spike is suddenly outside the newspaper building with the same pout, watching as the Arty blonde bitches about geing told off for leaving the ‘i’ out of junior on the front page. She’s all awhinge but really – dude, that’s totally reasonable. Where I come from a typo in the front page gets you paid out for months. Months!

From Spike’s facial expression we can only assume that Arty blonde farts as she walks off. And that Spike is the kind of guy that finds farts both smelly and funny. I love him already.

He puts on a pair of huge sunnies and now he’s all black plastic, brown leather and pink rubber lips. He does a bit of ‘where’s the escape hatch’ acting and goes in, running straight into the yelly blonde – who Lynda once referred to as Sarah. She’s practically drooling over his wisecracking bad-guy persona, and straight up suggesting an interview (oo-er!). Kenny interrupts her fun and tells her that Spike’s joining the team. Sarah looks him up and down in a very very dirty kinda way, and promptly runs off to sit in a puddle of her own Spike-drool.

Spike continues with the wisecracking and I start to want to marry him. And Fraz (the stoned-looking one on horoscopes). They’re so punny it hurts.

Spike is all about putting his feet up and getting through his required hours with his hear in dreamland, which is making Kenny all scowly. Even scowlier than usual. For a supposed ‘nice guy’ he’s certainly scowly.

Enter Lynda: screen left.

Music starts. Birds and flowers start appearing. The sun shines through the windows in the manner of a million religious experiences. Somewhere, a choir launches into song.

Oh, wait. No. That’s another show.

But Spike does drop his glasses, rise from his chair and saunter toward her, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. It’s – erm – hot.

There’s some witty to-and-fro. Spike does dumb. Lynda does bitchy. Sarah interrupts (she’s going to do a LOT of that over the next four years ….). Kenny looks amused (but still scowly) and contributes little, which is fine really, given they’re yet to write him a personality.

Kenny wonders if Spike is a KD. Lynda says he’s a KD plus. Spike wonders what a KD is. Lynda just wants her precious form filled out. And it’s on.

Lynda: We need to know a bit about you
Spike: Yeah well you could try asking.
Lynda: We ask on the form.
Spike: Do you always make friends by questionnaire?
Lynda: I’m not making friends.
Spike: Yeah I can believe that.

There’s a lot of eyebrow raising and attitude and lovely lovely lovely snark. It’s getting kind of hot in here.

Lynda: Spike Thomson. Of course. The American.
Spike: Well, an American. There is more than one of us you know.
Lynda: Staying long or is this a flying visit?
Spike: I’ve been here four years.
Lynda: Really, you’ll have learnt the language soon.
Spike: Well this may come as surprise to you but some Americans, they do speak English too.
Lynda: Then why don’t you?

I can’t recap the magic happening on my tv screen right now but suffice to say that TV producers should take note: that ‘chemistry’ thing you keep going on about – this is it. Forget Ross and Rachel. Forget Brenda and Dylan. Forget Xander and Cordelia. Spike and Lynda are putting them all to shame. I’m simultaneously giggling like a mad woman and melting into a gooey mess of squee.

Spike goes on to comment that he has to watch a lot of American cop shows to keep up with his accent – which is cute given that Dexter Fletcher is a brit and Spike’s accent is waaaay dodgy (and yet – fooled me as a kid). Lynda’s had enough and walks away. Spike follows her and announced that if this were the olden days, he’d slay a dragon for her.

Lynda just looks stunned. And … really really young. It’s almost ooky, but never fear, both actors were well into pervable age-brackets when this was filmed. I checked.

In fact, he goes on, if she agrees to go out with him, he’ll make a commitment to slay the first dragon they meet.

It’s freaking adorable and I kind of hate the fact that she’s staring at him like he’s mad. I don’t care if they just met. I don’t care if they’re meant to be 16. I’m wanting the jumping of bones right there on the desk, and she’s just not complying.

Arty interrupts this time – sparing Sarah the trouble - and the magic is broken. Lynda has to go see the Mullet, and she’s none to happy about it. As she gets up to go, she tells spike that was the worst pick-up like she’s ever heard.

‘What, out of both of them?’ Smartarse. Spike gets the attention of ‘you with no personality’ – patience, Spike, they’ll write Kenny some personality over the next few weeks; he even gets mildly adorable – and tells him he’s going to find the Gazette a story. Kenny just looks amused and annoyed (and scowly), but gets Danny to follow him – in case it’s not all talk.

Meanwhile at the big paper office, Lynda has just been bollocked for expecting someone else to find her stories for her. She sees the afro-come-mullet-come-helmet, Chrissie – who I’m guessing is a ‘real journalist’ – shunning a man that is claiming to have a major news story of grave importance to kids everywhere. Me and you and everyone with a brain assume he’s a nutcase. Lynda assumes he’s her lead story. She’s really not as smart as she thinks she is.

We cut to Spike and Danny standing against a wall speculating about three guys across the road looking at a very 80’s disco. One of them is the owner and there’s speculation he’s selling. It’s all kind of dull but I know they have to put something ‘newspapery’ into this episode or else it would all seem a little soapy.

Doesn’t mean I have to care though.

A car pulls up and a mop-haired kid jumps out. Spike identifies him as Colin and tries to buy himself some math homework. I recognize Colin from the credits, so figure he’s going to have more lines in the future – unlike poor Danny, who must have pissed someone off somewhere, gven he’s in this episode more than anyone but NOT in the credits – and sure enough he’s selling advertising on the Junior Gazette as punishment for trying to sell blank report cards.

While Spike and Colin are talking, Danny is at the edge of the frame playing with his nose. Methinks that’s why he didn’t make the credits.

Spike suggests the best way to get to the bottom of the whole disco story is to ask the owner so off they go. The owner is a balding, scowly looking man, and you just know he’s evil by the way he denies the accusation that he’s selling off the disco. He’s like a non-cartoon version of every Scoopy Doo villain, and you can just imagine him lamenting that ‘he would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for those meddling kids …’.

Spike’s onto him too. Because Spike does have a brain … unlike Lynda, who just gloated to Chrissie that she’s poached her very important story. If nothing else, shouldn’t the fact that Chrissie doesn’t even care be ringing alarm bells?

So the nutcase is going on about lethal toys. Lynda can barely contain her glee which is – on the one hand, really cold, and on the other, to be expected. She gets Fraz to take the man out to his car to get the evil evil toys, which results in some cute banter about astrology and horoscopes. Fraz doesn’t do much this episode, but he does this shtick with aplomb.

Conveniently, Spike chooses now to walk in and announce he’s got a story. Lynda is well unimpressed. In fact, she’s kind of a bitch in this scene – and I say that as someone who loves Lynda dearly. She declared that she doesn’t need a KD finding her stories and this time when Spike asks what a KD is she tells him - a knuckle dragger. It’s not the most impressive expression ever, but you know … nerds in the 80’s.

Spike looks actually hurt, and I’m totally on his side. He tells Lynda he is no longer willing to go out with her. She retorts that that’s going to make a dragon very happy, and he – of course – implies that she is the dragon in the equation. Which she kind of is.

And besides Lynda – shut up. Your efforts to find a story on your own are woeful and you’re the only one who doesn’t know it yet. The guy is saving your skin.

And leaving – which I also totally support.

There’s this whole cut-scene thing going on here between Spike outside and Lynda inside. It was giving me a recapping headache so I’m writing it straight. Shoot me.

Outside, Spike is standing around and fuming and bumps straight into the mullet, who drives a vintage car and wears cowboy boots. There’s some chatter about why Spike is out there what a so-and-so Lynda is and how the paper is his last chance and the mullet gives him two choices: get back inside and get to work, or … ‘else’.

It made me giggle, ok.

Inside, the nutcase is going on and on about the dangerous toys and how they breach trade regulations and threaten national security and how America’s latest defence technology is on sale in shops all over England and maybe even the world. And Lynda and Kenny are just standing there getting all excited – until he pulls out a model of that big ship from Star Wars.

America’s latest defence technology, as it turns out, is the Star Wars program.

And now she gets it.

Now.

Yeah, I know. I’m starting to think she’s a little slow as well.

But not as slow as Kenny. Who’s still looking confused.

Lynda has Kenny show the man (Mr … ‘Vader’ *guffaw*) out and slowly comes to the realization that she no longer has a story. She grabs her jacket – blazer, really – and goes out to find Spike.

She finds him on his way back in and pretends to be all ‘you need the paper so come back’, which is bullshit because she just want his story and – again with the Spike being smart – he totally calls her on it. And she fesses up and admits that she needs his story, but he does need the paper, and an uneasy truce is reached in which she’s not a dragon and he’s not a KD. It’s kind of sweet.

And roll credits.

Oh, wait. Credit talkies. Todays credit talkies are Spike and Lynda and more witty banter. Spike asks Lynda how long till they’re an item and I’m jumping out of my seat with the answer to that question: eighteen weeks!!! Thankfully, it gets a lot better sooner than that …

Grade: C for the whole thing. A+++++ for the Spike/Lynda exchanges in the middle. Squeeeee!

And yet Everybody Loves Raymond stayed on air....

To say that I am super excited about writing for a blog dedicated to the cathode ray is most definitely an understatement. Believe me when I say that I have my ponytail pulled high, my best Sparkle Motion dance hands and a pair of pompoms shimmying away in time to the flips of my joyous heart. But alas not all TV related writing is so joyous, and I am afraid I will be sharing some of my soul's burdens with you all today. The lovely LaRue wrote about When Good TV Goes Bad, well I'm writing about When Good TV Gets Cancelled.

I love a cliffhanger, but only when I get to know what's to be found at the bottom of the damn plummet! Why is it that the viewing public seem to be such arse heads? Not us, I mean them, out there, the ones who watch McLeod's Daughters and rate Home and Away ahead of Neighbours. Someone is watching Yes, Dear and it's no one I know (or at least they won't admit to it)! And yet programs with scope and lashings of ingenuity are shunted into the obsolescence of TV's week night carousel, swapping times and days like I wish I swapped lovers.

I was a late bloomer when it came to recognising the genius of Joss Whedon. As an older teen I had the tendency to pooh-pooh anything that wasn't consciously arty or literate. And to me the high point of TV literacy was an adaptation of a classic Victorian novel by the BBC costume department. As the years went on I managed to remove my head from my buttocks and catch a few episodes of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I liked what I saw. Skip forward many years and I am living with a pal who has them all on DVD. I barely spoke to anyone for 6 weeks, but when I emerged, pale of skin and lank of hair, having watched all 144 episodes (plus all of the commentaries and special features) I was most certainly a fan of Joss. This set me on the path towards Firefly, a show that had been cancelled years before I discovered it. Firefly is a space show unlike any other. Set 500 years in the future, there are no aliens, people are still people and the average Joe can speak Mandarin. It takes the film school theory that Sci-Fi's are really Westerns in space to the next level. Firefly is most definitely and deliberately a Space Western. This is not the clean and clinical world of Star Trek, this is the world of petty crims, hustlers and smugglers who live on the edge of the civilised world. This is the world that Han Solo left when he picked up some passengers at Mos Eisley. This 'verse was seriously cool. It lasted a mere 11 episodes in the US on Fox, who presumably cancelled it after waiting for the vampires and moody teens to show up and improve their ad earnings.
Fox sabotaged their own show. They played episodes out of order (the pilot episode, where they set up the, uh, plot, was the final one that aired), they didn't promote it beyond 'From the man who brought you Buffy: The Vampire Slayer' promos and they kept asking the creators where the vampires and foxy teens were. The series is now available in a handy DVD box set, with 3 unaired episodes and buckets of special features. Oh, and the lovely people at Universal Pictures coughed up the dosh for a feature film called Serenity which finished off some of the story lines and gave a degree of closure. This sort of resurrection is a rare occurrence in cancellation land. Only the complete resurrection of Family Guy comes to mind as another time the TV gods intervened to save the viewing public from their evil network masters.

A far sadder cancellation abomination was that of Carnivale. Set in the US Dust Bowl of the Depression, this spooky, gripping, sexy and smart series was nothing short of a masterpiece. A wonderful mix of real life drama; historical accuracy to please the most picky; a custom built mythology that was breathtaking in it's scope, and the weird and wonderful world of freaks and carnies. This was TV of such high quality that even the harshest critic would have had trouble finding fault with it. Unless of course their world view was so easily threatened that they attended book burnings. It referenced real events, while building towards the final battle between good and evil. But good and evil with silky, silky shades of grey. And did I mention the sexy? Purrrrrr.
It was art, it was terrifying, it was gorgeous and it got cancelled just as the plot twist of the century was revealed. GAH! Bastards! I have such respect for the commissioning execs at HBO (Oz, Six Feet Under, The Sopranos, Deadwood, Sex and the City) but what the hell happened in the HBO offices in May 2005? A mass TV exec brain fart? There are rumours of a 1 off mini-series to finish off the story arc, but after nearly 2 and a half years I fear that the battle for Carnivale is lost.

These are but two of many excellent programs that were cancelled before their time. Deadwood, Angel and Arrested Development all leap to my mind (no one tell me what happens in Angel season 5, the DVD's are waiting for me to get back home and watch them). At least the these three managed to wrap up some of the loose ends before being yanked. And I think this is what annoys me most about cancellation. It's just damn rude! You wouldn't start a joke and then refuse to give the punchline. Or tear out the last chapter of your own novel. So why do it to TV? It's that money thing, isn't it? I'm almost annoyed enough to go out and join Resistance.

So tell me, what show has you asking 'They cancelled this, but Everybody Loves Raymond went for 9 seasons?'

So You Think You Can get a recap done in less than a week?

Pre-credits we're straight into our group dance... all the guys in back suits and white shoes. All the girls in black & white stripes and black bobbed wigs. It's kinda mod-meets-Clockwork Orange and it's just awesome! There's even some incredibly artistic work from the Ministry of Silly Walks, performed by (I think) Ricky and Cedric...

It's funky, it's exciting, it's got 'wow' factor... who's it choreo'd by? Wade Robson if course!

And going with the mod theme tonight, Cat is wearing a gorgeous shift dress. I covet it, despite the overwhelming sparkliness. And yet again she shows that nope, she couldn't care less that she can't dance, striding confidently into the middle of the hyper little bunnies...

Our judges tonight are Dan Karaty, Nigel and Mary. Poor Mary - her stylist is becoming ever more confident in her (and it has to be a her, this has unresolved cat-fight written all over it) desire to humiliate her arch enemy on national tv. Tonight she's even got Mary to wear a dress designed to throttle her slowly as the show progresses...

read the rest

Ooh! Our Top 20 are reintroduced, then we're treated to a rehearsal/audition montage. It's all very Fame! with lots of jumping, screaming, splits, forward somersaults with extended pike. And baby oil.

First up are Jamie and Hok dancing a hip hop routine. Jamie's a contemporary dancer, with training in ballet, tap, jazz - you name it, she's done it. Hok is a breaker for whom this year is his third time lucky. He's also the cutest and sweetest little Japanese break dancer you''ll ever see in your life. I want one.
Their routine is great - Jamie throws herself into it, and what she loses in technique, she more than gains in attitude. She keeps up with Hok all the way. It's a revelation. The judges are impressed. Good start!

Next up are Anya and Danny.
Anya's been a professional ballroom dancer for the last 17 years. Which would mean she started at 8 years old. Wow. I mean, wow. Her partner is Danny who has a background almost as intense. He's Travis' (from season 2) adopted brother (he was adopted at age 12) and is a classically trained dancer with lots of ballet and whatnot.
They're doing the jive, and man, it is the funkiest jive I've seen in ages. They are rocking it to Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne and despite his initial concerns, Danny is able to take the lead and still keep up with the high kicks. The judges are very happy, with Mary rendered speechless, (although that may be the work of the Dress from Hell) before moving on to a tortured metaphor involving a Hot Tamale Train. That plus the screaming leaves poor Nigel a little dazed and confused.

Time for the first 'I don't know who's doin' it good' contemporary routine from Mia 'This isn't a mullet, it's what happens when mere mortal hairdressers only get half my splendiferous vision' Michaels. And the lambs to the slaughter are Lacey & Kameron.
We get the whole 'Validate me! I'm not my brother!' speech from Lacey, just after she lists her status as National Youth Latin and National Youth Swing champion and professional crumper (wtf?). Wheres Kameron's only claim to fame seems to be that grandmas lurve him! He's an entertainer who does the funky monkey with them, see? Plus, the mohawk, obvs. Der.
Poor Lacey struggles during rehearsals to get even half of Mia's vision, and complains that having to be deliberately technically incorrect is really hard for her. Fortunately they pull it all together and it's pretty damn good. I think. It ticks all the contemporary boxes anyways - with lots of anguished expressions, lots of throwing oneself and ones partner around. Lots of black and moody lighting.... you know how it goes. The judges are suitably gushy. Mia is suitably smug.

Moving right along to that disco beat...
Ah - let's pity poor Sabra and Dominic. They are neither the most technical or experienced of dancers, Sabra having only been training for 4 years, and Dominic being a self-taught B-boy. They both seem so keen to learn though, to expand their knowledge, to be better dancers. It's all about the dancing, which is kind of refreshing.
So it's a bit of a stretch to expect them to boogie on down with a disco routine... There's lots of big hair and big lifts but there's not a lot of connection between them. Hardly surprising when you realise that Dominic has never danced with a partner before.


Dan thinks it's OK, but Nigel and Mary think they did great, all things considering...

Being pushed even further out of their comfort zone are Ashlee and Ricky, both contemporary dancers. Ashlee has been dancing since she was 2 years old and is very passionate about dance apparently. As you have to be if it's all you've ever done... Ricky is also passionate in his own special way. I'll let him explain his philosophy of dance in his own words:
"I take a mathematical and scientific approach to dance... in the way that you would a parabola to a graph ... so the body is perfectly proportioned from every angle..."
I'll explain my philosophy of Ricky in my own words: "Wanker"
They're dancing the Argentine Tango, supposed one of the sexiest dances around. But with Ashlee in heels that make her tower above Ricky, and with an outfit that make her legs just go on and on, they look freakily mismatched. And when they dance they are completely unconnected, with no chemistry at all. You could see that it's supposed to be sexy, but it kinda passed in a blur of random kicking.
Funnily enough the judges agreed with me! Dan reckoned that it was so blah it looked like a mother-and-son dance routine. Hee.

Thankfully we have another Wade Robson routine to take our minds off the dodgy tango. Sara, a B-girl (who performed with the fantastically-named Denver Nuggets Mob Squad) but one with jazz, ballet, modern and tap experience, is teamed up with Jesús, a lyrical dancer who was inspired to dance after watching a Janet Jackson video.


They're doing a little jazz pop thang Wade likes to call Vagabond Cabaret. It's got touches of the zombie dance from last year, the basic premise being 1930s hobos waking up at 3am to bust a few weird-arse moves. With your requisite maniacal grinning and carrying on. But it works and is awesomely fantastic. Mary agrees - she says it's twisted, demented and spectacular! (Cue scream)

Talk abut sublime to the ridiculous! We're going from zombie fetishes to the smooth waltz, with Jessi and Pasha trying not to fall asleep to Norah Jones' Come Away with Me... and... step two three, turn two three, snooze two three.
It's not so bad I guess. Jessi's a hip hop dancer who spends her entire day in front of a computer screen 'event-managing' and wants to just get away from it all... Pasha has been ballroom dancing since he was 8 and thinks it's just magic! Two people, getting together, showing all this emotion. Awww... he's cute! (But Hok's cuter!) Heh. I think their differing attitudes are summed up in this little exchange as they leave the rehearsals - her "we're gonna go home and pray!" him - "No, we're going to go home and practise"...
I guess the practise wins out, because they float around the floor, looking oh so elegant and waltzy and no-one can fault them on anything. Although maybe Norah Jones worked her magic on the judges and they had a little nanna nap...

Faina, Stanislav's little sister, a ballroom dancer from waaay back is partnered with Cedric, an improv/hip hop dancer. He's so individual in what he does, this awe-inspiring Mr Incredible type twisting and turning, but Nigel had been reticent putting him through as he didn't believe he would support a partner. That puts a lot of pressure on Faina then doesn't it? Hmmm... Also putting a lot of pressure on Faina is the bloody awful outfit they've got her in - tiny short shorts, a cropped hoodie and ... long football socks? No wonder she looks uncomfortable!
Cedric does his wiggly wiggdy wow stuff all around and she kinda pretends she knows what she's doing. And that she's having fun. I ain't falling for it though. And neither are the judges... But I swear someone's put some happy pills in Nigel's Turquoise Bucket of Mystery because he's been uncharacteristically upbeat and positive about everyone all night.

He's positively gushing over our next couple - Lauren and Neil - both professional contemp dancers and their salsa. Sorry their back story is boring and is basically the same blah balh been dancing all my life blah blah dancing is my passion blah balhdy blah. And Neil is a twin with something hidden up his sleeves... Or the twin has something hidden. either/or.
Their salsa seems fine to me, y'know, world-renowned salsa expert that I am. I'm more mesmerised by the sparkly spangly green dress. I want one. Anya was wearing one for her dance and I've decided that bedazzled green dresses are so hott right now.
It seems their salsa was fine, but just lacked chemistry and hottness. Neil needs to be 'down and dirrrty' rather than dancing like a cheerleader, and yes, thank you Nigel, that wasn't an image of you I was really prepared for... a little warning next time please, so I can utilise 'walking out of the room' option.

And wow! Are we there? finally? The last couple, Jimmy and Shauna, get to do a groovy Broadway routine to a song from The Wiz. Hee. That rocks. That's so retro. I love Broadway, it's so cheesy and you just know those serious dancers hate it.
They get to do some awesomely cool 'we're off to see the wizard' skipping and I'm just the teensiest bit jealous. My idea of heaven is now skipping in a green salsa dress. You know, I think this endless recap is doing my head in.
So yeah, they're great, the judges agree, and then Cat's there telling Australia not to go away and that they'll be back right after the break and I'm left pondering whether that's the most unattractive top-of-a-dress I've ever seen...

Results show:

For some reason Cat has decided she's coming at us straight outta the bordello in a froth of ill-fitting pink satin and lace. And towering black stilettos in which she stalks around like a giraffe in a whorehouse.

And poor Mary is having a shocking evening, squeezed into a blouse a size too small, and two decades old. Please tell me cutesy bow-toed collars aren't coming back. Please...

Straight to business - first in the bottom three are Dominic and Sabra. Their disco routine obviously didn't appeal. Either that, or no-one was impressed by Dominic's harry high pants. I know I sure as hell wasn't...

They're joined by Ashlee and Ricky and their sizzleless Argentine Tango. They also look like they were expecting it...

As do Faina and Cedric when they complete the little group who are going to have to, yep you guessed it, dance for their lives (mwuhahaha)

And because this is a show which consists of basically 6 20 second dance routine, there's bucketlaods of filler, the first big chunk of which is last years champion Benji Schwimmer... he has a little chat to Cat, all about Christina Aguilera pinching his butt and I've got to ask... is it possible that he's even camper than he was last year? Because I didn't think it was, but I appear to be wrong.
He does an interesting dance routine to 'Americana' but unfortunately this just brings cravings for pizza shapes so all that's stuck in my head is his boxers.... and trust me, this is not pleasant.

And so to the dancers...

Sabra - she does contemp routine with lots of jumping and exquisite leg extensions. She's so tiny that she doesn't even come up to Cat's shoulder when she's standing in front of the judges. She seriously looks 12 years old, a little girl lost.

Dominic - he does some classic breaking - you know, the stuff that they used to do on the street in front of a massive boombox. It's kinda cool. He loses his shirt. That's kinda cool too.

Ashlee - looks like she's suffering dreadful cramps. All hunched over and with legs spasming at odd angles. But that's the curse of the contemp viewer because apparently she felt really good.. dancers... they're a different breed aren't they?

Ricky - very athletic. Very scientific. As Cat says - "you look very pleased with yourself" You never said a truer word my sweet.

Faina - awesome and sensual and man, this is what it's all about! I wish I could dance like that *wistful sigh*

Cedric - he seriously looks like he's made of elastic. He's just so amazingly bendy and smooth and fluid and double-jointed. He also looked like a 6 year old, about to burst into tears. Aww, bless.

Second massive bit of filler - some guy called Lloyd. Sorry. But I never signed on to recap crappy r'n'b. No sirreee.

And to the judgement - the guillotine about to fall on two dainty little necks...

Sabra did her best dancing so far and is safe. As is Faina.
Ashlee is going home because her solo only showed emotion and not her technical vocabulary. And my goodness, I do love me some wanky dancy talk. Yeah Ashlee, that's what I was saying a couple of para's up - you're all emotion. And, um, stomach cramps.

Ricky apparently has the potential to be one of the best dancers in the show but didn't show his full vocab. Cedric is unique, and thankfully didn't let his partner down so he gets to stay. Poor Dominic is utterly petrified. He's positive he's going home, but he gets a lifeline for having a personality. Hee! The rest of them must be boring drones, mind you seeing as most of them were dedicated to the God of Dance at birth, it's probably true.
Which means adieu Ricky! Mainly for taking Nigel for granted and acting like he belongs in the competition without having to try. Ha. I think he needs to find the mathematical formula out there which shows you don't get to succeed if you're an arrogant Rick.

Next week - our Top 18. Please let there be more Wade and more Hok and maybe a teensie bit more Shane and then I'll be a very happy recapper.