So You Think You Can REAAALLLLY piss Actonb off?

Okkaaayyyy....

I have just come back to what I wrote in Notebook as I watched the ep and my word, it makes not a damn bit of sense... bear with me here! Far Out! Was I drunk when I wrote this??? I don't remember...

So, the Group Dance is awesome - a themed jive to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy - I have a soft spot in my heart for that song anyways (ahhh... 1989 Kirrawee Gang Show) and how can it not be improved by Hok in sailor's whites...? Awww.... The final twelve are all in uniform (ish - I don't remember WAAFS skirts being slit to the hip) with their hair in 1940s chignons (yeah, the boys too...) and they look cute as a button. Dancing's pretty good too!

Talking about cute as a button, Cat's a vision in ... coral? For real? The 1980s really are upon us again aren't they?

Tonight's guest judge is WADE ROBSON!!!!! And I have just discovered he's Australian - or born on the Gold Coast at least... Hee! I just knew there was a reason I adored him! Other than the awesome dance routines - I'm so shallow.

On to the dancing! I mean, that's what we're all here for, right? Not the awesome perve-factor?
The filler interesting titbits of info about the couples tonight is - what they really think of each other - what they like and what they don't like - should be candid dontcha think?

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Anyhoo - Sabra thinks that Dom is funny. Dom thinks that Sabra doesn't trust him. That and that she has puffy hair and that she smells good. Oh he's deep this one. Sabra doesn't like that Dom drops her. Like constantly. Cue montage of Dom dropping Sabra on her head. Like constantly. Dome doesn't like Sabra's 'Trust' issues - I mean it's not like he drops her constantly...
They're doing the jive, expertly tutored by Tony Meredith and his wife Melanie (who you'd remember as the Bette Midler lookalike from Pasha's ChaCha)
And strangely my eyes are drawn to Dom - and this is despite Sabra's ultra-sparkly dress (and you know my weakness for the sparkly dress) He's so ... skinny in tight black pants. Skinny and kinda the teensiest bit hot. And he doesn't drop her! Ha!

Wade witters like he's on a Bundy IV - random words about positive energy emanating into crowd, America, nay THE WORLD....!

Yeah. It was good.

And on to the sickening lovefest that is Jaimie and Hok. No I'm not jealous, not at all.... BEEYATCH!
Ahem... Jaimie just loves the whole idea of Hok - but more specifically that fact that he cooks her Italian food at night. Hok loves Jaimie's hair (I think there's a theme here - it's either Hair or Dumb guys - either/or really) It's really beautiful and soft and curly. Like a dog's. Apparently.
Jaimie doesn't like that she sometimes chokes on Hok's braids - hehe - honey there's a bunch of girls wouldn't mind taking your spot to choke on his braids if you know what I mean *nudge nudge, wink wink*
Hok doesn't like that, although they're the same height, when she's in heels she's taller than him. And he says it all in Japanese in order to spare her feelings. Bless. Obviously the poor girl can't read subtitles.

They're doing a Tyce DiOrio Broadway routine, based on Mr Bojangles. I hate to say it but it's kind of a bit blah (yes, another ultra-technical dancey term) but there's a whole hat thing going on, and I'm a fan of the hat, so hat + hok = good in my book. Wade reckons that they've both grown and that Jaimie's come alive. Nigel didn't feel that Hok was connected to the story and that he's got to let the go of the fear...

Now Sara reckons that Pasha has the best partnering skills in the entire competition. And she's right. Hands down. Pasha thinks that Sara is really strong... now that sounds like a back-handed compliment if ever I heard one - So Sara replies with the observation that Pasha is even more of a girl than her, which, as a B-Girl isn't really saying much really is it? The lack of chemistry here is perplexing, especially when we are confronted with how amazingly they dance together...

They're doing a jazz routine with Mandy Moore, self-confessed lover of the Jazz Hands... And to 'Body Language' by Queen. In the most awesome retro Eighties costumes, like evah! The plentiful Jazz Hands make it even more perfect... and I've just discovered that a Pasha in a tight royal blue t-shirt and white suspenders... surprisingly hot! And that's with my long-standing aversion to Royal Blue.



Lauren and Neil have their own little mutual admiration society thing going on - they both like that the other is Good Looking. Like really really really Good Looking. Then there's a little disagreement over Neil's "jokes" - she thinks they're awful, he's cut that she doesn't laugh. *sigh* these people... seriously - they can shake their booty but there's nothing between their ears is there?
And our dim-witted dancers are going to have to cope with a Mia Michaels contemp routine. One, which for some unknown reason I actually reeallly like. It's kind funky and a bit dark, and there's goggles involved. It's all kinds of fun, and fun isn't usually found in MiaM's vocab. Or her dance vocab either. So I'm happy. Mary says what I'm thinking - she don't know what the story is about, she not sure she really need to know... she just liked it!

Heh. Nigel didn't like it. I don't like the fact that his stalker grin is even more... stalkery (?) than usual. Maybe he's auditioning for the Bad Wolf role in Dr Who! The Musical!

In the biggest surprise of the night, what Danny loves most about Anya is her costumes - all those tassels and sparkles, they make his poor adopted soul glad... Anya thinks that Danny's Good Looking. Are these guys all reading from the same damn script??? Danny hates that Anya makes him rehearse till late at night (huh? This is the guy who was adopted by his dance teacher and he whinges about rehearsing???) Anya doesn't like that Danny doesn't pay adequate attention while rehearsing.
They're doing a foxtrot. But not your bog standard foxtrot, oh no! It's a super-special jazzy foxtrot! Specially choreographed for Anya and her injured ankle. Bastards!
But at least she gets to wear a cute dress - with a fascinator even! And she gets to show how awesome her stamina is by not cringing once as she bounces up and down on her poor ankle. It's a pretty spectacular foxtrot, and it impresses Wade who proclaims that the dance is 'a wonderful moment for me and for you (Danny), that he had never been moved by him ( Danny) prior to this dance, etc etc' I mean it was good, great even, but um Wade...? ewww....


The golden couple, Lacey and Kameron... Kameron likes Lacey's experience which is apparently a great help for him (*snort*) Lacey thinks *sigh* that Kam is ridiculously Good Looking. Kameron tells the world that Lacey has a stinky skanky weave *triple snort* while Lacey confides that Kam is just one drippy stinky SweatHog - heeeeee! Some candour - how refreshing!
They're doing hiphop with Dan Karaty - some nerd boy/ cheerleader role playing which gives Lacey lots of booty shaking opportunities. It's pretty good, and I'll grudgingly admit that Lacey hits all the right notes - she's very good, if a little, dare I say it? Fake? Kam just can't match her. I mean, he's good, just not good enough...

And the judges agree - well kinda. If telling Kameron that he needs to dance inside the music rather than floating on top of the music was what I was trying to say. They also agree that Lacey is a great performer - a consummate professional, though seemingly unable to let the 'personal' shine through.


On to the

Results Show:

And hmmm.... the dress that we've been seeing for the last couple of months finally makes an appearance in it's full Technicolor glory. And it's a bit meh if you ask me.

Cat is towering over the little dancing leprechauns and I'm wondering why she insists on wearing such massive heels when she just knows she's going to stand head, shoulders and chestal area over the dancers. But that may just be flat-loving bitterness coming from me. And I have just worked out she wears massive earrings - it's to cover the earpiece squiggly thing that she has to wear. Heh. I'm so slow. I wear flats and I'm slow. No hope for me AT ALL.


I'll cut to the chase Danny & Anya, Hok & Jaimie and Lauren & Neil are the wee things Dancing For Their Lives tonight. Even after the umpteen GAZILLION votes cast.



Anya dances to Proud Mary and man she stomps it in.

Danny does his usual pirouetteiness, but he's just so. damn. good at it that I don't care.

Jaimie - pfft! She's Jaimie, same old same old.

unlike...

Hok, who breaks out more interesting moves and overall adorableness.
Lauren and Neil do their thing, nothing particularly exciting, but then I suspect I may be biased. Ever so slightly.

Hee - I was listening to Enrique as I played spider solitaire and I got severe 'I'm so ronely' vibes. And I can't find it on youtube so you can't play at home... :(


The judges are back and doesn't Mary look pissed. Probably because she promised at the top of the show that Anya and Danny wouldn't be going home on her watch, but uh-oh! guess who's going home tonight? Because her solo's aren't as strong enough... Jaimie's safe even though she danced 'desperate' and Lauren's safe even though she's never reached her potential.

Right.

And then to piss me off even further, the only reason they give for giving my beloved Hok the boot is that they already have a B-Boy in Dominic so they don't need him. If they only need one dancer in each genre then why don't they cull some of those crappy contemp dancers, hey???? Hmmmm!

So cranky.

So very very cranky.

Oy, this god awful show made me slip a disc

BIG BROTHER:

Y'all probably already heard that Gretel Killeen has quit/been sacked from her role as host of Big Brother, and been replaced with Kyle Sandilands and Jackie O. My impression of this is that Ten have gotten it right with need to make changes, I'm just not sure whether this is quite the change that will bring the show back from the abyss that was BB07 (and, come to think of it, BB05 and 06). Changes that needed to be made were:

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1) Chose better housemates. This has been a trend that has gotten way out of hand. As a viewer, I really don't find it remotely entertaining watching the same bunch of bland miscreants and bogans enunciating poorly on television every year. Housemates with giant fake boobs does not make for watchable television. The same can be said for all the lame 'twists' that fall on their arse the second they are effected.

2) Bring back Uncut. The idea that Channel Ten had any responsibility to the Australian public to pull that show in the first place is laughable. Whatever criticism you might have of the crudeness and questionable material that the housemates get up to, ultimately what the housemates do on a television show ought to be fair game, and people who don't like it can exercise their tiny minds by making the decision not to watch. It's as simple as that. Any suggestion that we're safer or a more moral society because a television show is taken off air is nothing but bullshit, and I'm sick of the stupid nonsense that gets peddled every year by politicians and "pro family" (ie. Pro-Telling Others What To Do) groups telling me otherwise.

The show is DULL without Uncut, and I think last year suffered enormously because of its absence.

Anyway. I hate to judge Gretel's replacements without giving them a chance, but I have a fairly good idea already of how it will turn out. Kyle will attempt to ask the hard questions, while totally lacking the intelligence and sharp wit that Gretel Killeen had, and Jackie O will do all our heads in with her vapidness and stilted on screen manner.

IDOL:

Wow, what a shit night of Idol. Matt Corby apparently got the nerves and couldn't play the piano properly. I don't know what's wrong with that boy; the piano sounded fine, he sounded fine, he looked as messy as ever but at least someone kept him away from the lego-themed dresses.

Imagine my surprise when, half way through Natalie Gauci's performance, I looked up from my dinner to see her standing on the piano which she had hitherto been playing. It was like Andy from Little Britain, how he just randomly turns up in weird places, like the top of a diving board or in a tree:

"How did you get up there?"

"I fell."

I like Natalie, but I wasn't as down with that performance as the judges. It just didn't deserve a Touchdown, no matter how inexpressibly stupid the Touchdown has become (what am I talking about? It's always been stupid).

Marty sucked.

Wow, when did the judges get so pissed with Tarisai for being fake? For those who missed it, she had a near meltdown on stage when confronted with accusations of not being herself. I quite agree with the judges, and what Dicko said about her saying 'thank you' in that breathy voice and not actually listening to their criticism, but it felt a bit like a cruelly staged intervention of some kind.

Carl... well, let's put it this way: the less said about Carl the better. Whatever kudos he earned from me last week was lost this week. Back to his boring self.

I was under the impression that the Idols were performing two songs again tonight, but since the ARIAS were on, they had to cut it down a bit. Which leads quite nicely into the third part of this post...

ARIAS:

How utterly pointless. Australia, first of all, doesn't churn out that many decent musicians each year to warrant such an overblown evening. If the Grammies are like the Oscars for music, then the ARIAS are the equivalent of the plays that four year old kids put on for their parents using dolls and teddies in the living room. It's just an excuse for the Idols to gush over all the "celebrities" and exclaim how they NEVER thought they'd make it THIS FAR and how EXCELLENT it is that they're attending such a prestigious event!

Notes on the ARIAS:

I'm pretty disappointed that there won't any Missy Higgins/David Hasselhoff love-ins again tonight.

No red frilly dresses either. Jeez, Missy, way to let the team down.

Daniel Johns sounded so bad tonight. Oh boy, it was a performance to rival Steph Macintosh's disastrous Footy Show appearance.

Rove really isn't a very good presenter, is he? No he is not.

Ooh! Nicole Kidman is at the ARIAS tonight with her lame husband who no one cares about. Hey, do you reckon she'll let him put his ARIA on the same mantle as her Oscar? [Snigger].

I wonder where Axel Whitehead is, and if his penis is feeling left out?

SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE:

I am so looking forward to this show. I'm watching the American version and loving it. I do wonder whether we have quite the same pool of talent as the US, but we shall see. It certainly can do no worse than Dancing With The Stars, which is just so horrible I cannot fathom why anybody actually continues to watch it. Why do people want to see Z-grade celebrities dancing merely competently when you can see the likes of Neil Haskell going insane every week on the dance floor?

Natalie Bassingthwaighte seems like a good appointment to the position of host, methinks. Surprising, really, given that she'll probably use it in the near future to publicise her shitty brand of "electro-rock."

Press Gang: A Night In (AKA The One With The Eat-Off)

Ok. Press Gang. Rocks. Etc. You know the drill, so let’s get into it, shall we? And what better way to start off than with Julie and Danny and Fraz and Colin and Sarah and Kenny take turns talking to camera about why they can’t be somewhere. I’m guessing the camera is Lynda. It’s all kind of dull and only Kenny actually makes me laugh: ‘Could you tell me what excuses haven’t been given?’

Yeah, it’s cheesy, but hey – it’s a sign that the writers are finally blessing him with one of those pesky personality things.

Spike enters – and we hear him before we see him. And then we only see his feet, on which are american flag sneakers that look remarkably similar to those canvas things the kids are getting about in these days – Press Gang = Style Beacon, obvs. He’s racecalling his feet and at one point he says that they’re ‘neck and neck, which is a pretty good trick for feet’ and I laugh because it’s punny.

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His feet bump into Lynda’s feet and she tells him it’s sweet that he’s found a couple of friends. He tells her he’d love to stay and chat but her blouse doesn’t match her skirt and it’s annoying him, and walks off.

Just so you know, she’s wearing a blue t-shirt under plaid shirt in various shades of beige, with rolled-up sleeves, and a black and white polka dot skirt – bigger dots that usual. Obviously Spike’s feet have taste. She catches up with him and asks what he’s doing tonight. Apparently it’s just a kidney transplant, and they can mail it to him. So she hands him a random slip of yellow paper. Methinks this is what everyone else was trying to avoid earlier. Me also thinks that this show should just be that banter between Spike and Lynda.

Spike protests. ‘Not a Yellow! It’s Saturday!’

Oh! A Yellow! I … don’t know what that is.

Sarah who is whinging about homework and how she’s got a Yellow and blah blah blah – shut up Sarah! – and Tiddler steps in and offers to take her Yellow. Strangely (or perhaps not – given this is Sarah we’re talking about) this doesn’t cheer Sarah up.

Kenny tries on a seriously ill aunt for size, only to be reminded that he went to her funeral not two weeks ago. He concedes the point, but notes that ‘that’s serious’. Heh.

Ok. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Lynda cuts Spike off at the door - she’s found his crumpled Yellow and is not happy. So not happy that she’s threatening to call Sullivan and have him booted off the paper and thus out of school if he doesn’t show up for late duty – which is what a Yellow means, apparently - tonight. Oooooh …

There’s this whole face-off bit and Spike is all ‘I won’t be here, make your call!’ and she’s all like ‘kenny, give me Sullivans phone number!’ and they’re staring each other down and I’m all ‘Pash! Pash! Pash! Pash!’ but I know I’m not going to get my way tonight. And then she’s all ‘Will you be here?’ and he’s all ‘I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun! You’re really enjoying yourself for the first time ever!’ and everyone else is standing around and then someone asks Lynda if this is about yesterday.

Which apparently is not the right answer – er, question, and she gets even nastier and Spike makes a move toward her which makes everyone scream but all he does is picks up a big pile of paper and throws it into the air and then goes to leave.

Toughguy.

Sarah catches him at the door and tries to nicely talk him into coming.

Lynda is dialing – and announcing it in her most bossiest voice. Sarah is telling Spike that she’s just in a funny mood … because of yesterday.

And I’m guessing this ‘yesterday’ thing will go on for a while, so I should stop expecting them to tell me what happened ‘yesterday’ any time soon. Sigh.

I love this show. Really.

Lynda gets Sullivan on the phone but asks him to hold as she says goodbye to spike and asks him to send a postcard. He storms out. Sarah goes after him, and Lynda turns to Kenny and asks why she just called the weather forecast.

Time passes. In an instant, in fact. And it’s 5.30.

Now Lynda is sitting at her desk looking cranky. Tiddler is sitting at another desk and saying ‘fridge’ a lot – which, obviously, is her non-swear swearword. But Kenny still has to ask. Ok – so they’re making him witty, not smart. Fine. It’s better than ‘wet blanket’.

Lynda tries to phone Sullivan but Kenny has disconnected the phone and is giving her a lecture on how she should give Spike a chance and all the rest, which sends her into defensive mode pointing out that it’s not personal and she’s not out to get Spike (except into her pants … which she doesn’t say, but I think …) and nothing would make her happier than if Spike walked in the door right now -

And so he does! He’s got groceries! And a plaid shirt to match Lynda’s! But pinker! And he’s brought along his stock of punny jokes! Hurrah!

Surprisingly, Lynda doesn’t look happy. And yells at him for being late. He ignores her and goes and flirts with tiddler … or, I assume it’s flirting because he’s complimenting the day-glow mess that she’s calling an outfit, which either means he’s flirting or he wants to borrow money, and Tiddler is wearing half ping-pong balls for earrings, so I doubt she’s got any money.

Lynda interrupts their little chatathon and gets all up in Spike’s face, which is kinda cool because Spike + Tiddler = Boring while Spike + Lynda = Awesome (although Spike + Me = Even More Awesome, but in the meantime …). And she’s all ‘did you get frightened of little old me?’ and he’s all ‘you’re so uptight your feet don’t reach the ground’ and so she looks down and he’s all ‘made you look’ and I am totally loving this.

Kenny is trying to break them up, and I ask why? A few more minutes and you know there will be slapping … and then hairpulling. And then at some point there’s got to be pashing. So leave them to it, I say!

Except he doesn’t. He points out that Lynda doesn’t usually let Spike get to her like this, and asks what’s wrong. Only she doesn’t answer. Spike answers. He says he knows, and that Sarah told him, which makes Lynda storm off in a huff and Kenny ask again if this is about yesterday.

Oh – yesterday again. Won’t someone just tell Kenny (and me) what happened yesterday!?

Spike is all cryptic and tells him that ‘Lynda’s boyfriend made history’ – which is not how I remember the line, but maybe we’re not at the payoff yet. He finds Lynda in the graphics room and starts talking to her in his nice voice, which would melt even the most frozen heart, but instead makes Lynda more yelly, which in turn makes Spike yelly and he goes to storm out of the door ‘before this gets any more stupid’.

And so, of course, he swings the door open to go and bumps right into Colin. In a bunny suit. Did someone say ‘more stupid?’ I think they did! The comic timing in this episode warms my geeky little heart.

Colin is gong on about some rich guys house he’s going to and he’s all nervous and excited because he’s all formal and uptight. Everyone is trying to ask why he’s in a bunny costume, but doesn’t get it out. And then it comes out that his mother has made him dress up as a rabbit for his little sister’s birthday party, and in all the excitement bout going to the formal, uptight rich guys house, he forgot to get changed!

He declares his life over and starts pounding his head against the wall and getting all distraught, which is just so cute.

Incidentally, his nose is a half-ping-pong ball. Oh for the days where TV continuity was not a dirty word …


Spike suggests he go home and change, which … once he thinks it over … he realizes is a great idea, and goes to leave. He comments that his family was on their way out for the evening but it’s ok because his housekeys are in his jacket pocket, and then goes.

Spike asks how long before he realizes he’s not wearing his jacket, as the cry from a tortured rabbit breaks out across the newsroom, and Lynda runs out to see to him and convinces him to run home and try to catch his family before they go out.

She comes back in and they all do this ‘poor guy’ thing and then crack up and the press gang piano is playing and it’s all lighthearted and nice. Aw.

Time passes in an instant again – TV is so good at that – and now Spike is sitting on a desk chatting to Kenny, who is curious as to the nature of the history that Lynda’s boyfriend made yesterday. Spike says the ‘Lynda’s boyfriend made history of Lynda’ joke, and Kenny finally gets it. As do I. Or, more accurately, this would be when I got it if I a)hadn’t seen this show a hundred times and b) didn’t have a brain.

Lynda interrups to ask them to get their facts straight. She hasn’t been dumped. James Armstrong just needs more time to study.

Spike comments he’s hungry and says it’s time for dinner. He asks if they like Chinese. Kenny comments that they usually just go to the fish & chip shop, but Spike starts pulling things out of his grocery bags (including his own wok) and announces that they’re having Peking-style chicken and garlic. Lynda looks amazed and … appalled that he can cook.

This of course leads to one of those awkward conversations between the divorce kid and the happy family kid where the divorce kid tells jokes about how his mom left so often when he was growing up that he though that he name was ‘leaving’ and that Santa Clause was a marriage counselor and the happy family kid asks how they can joke about it and given this is TV show … it’s kind of touching and realistic and - except for the puniness, because I’m not punny - not dissimilar to the conversations I had with the happy family kids when I was growing up.

Of course, they have to ruin it with Spike making a comment about Lynda and her saying – again, that she was not dumped. And storming off, again, to go sit at her desk and fume and break pencils.

Spike comes over and gives her a pillow to kick the hell out of, which she doesn’t want, even though it does look surprisingly like him – no backbone. And she says she has no hositily or aggression to work off. As she breaks another pencil.

Spike asks how many pencils she’s on. And she yells that she wasn’t dumped.

Ok. I love Lynda. Love her. And all her foibles. But if she exclaims – in reply to nothing – ‘I wasn’t dumped!’ in her bossy voice once more in this episode I will bang my head against the keyboard.

Plus, James Armstrong wasn’t even hot. Not like Spike is hot.

Colin bursts in in a tizz and advises everyone to never to try to thumb a lift in a bunny costume. He’s all torn up and dirty, because he missed his family as they were leaving and tried to break in as two policemen were walking past and they thought he was a robber and went after him but he made a run for it and got away. And here he is. And not at the rich guys house.

Colin asks Spike for his clothes. And they both go to start undressing

*cue canned Wooooooo borrowed from the kissing scenes in Saved By The Bell*

But not for long – as Colin finds his zipper is stuck. Which causes more distress and rapid breathing.

Kenny asks why this is such a disaster – because in this episode, Kenny has a personality: he’s become moderately amusing and ….. the dumbest person in the world.

Colin says that there are certain things you can’t do in a rabbit costume … like meet rich people. And … pee. Not that he says that, but he does say his legs are crossed in four places, so I can only guess.

Kenny suggests he go as he is and Colin gets rather sarcastic and whiny and is all hunched over in obvious bladder pain – which seems to have been brought on rather suddenly by this particular verbal exchange, because I swear he was fine a minute ago.

Kenny tries reverse psychology and – hurrah! – it works and Colin runs off to try to use the bunny suit to his advantage with the uptight formal rich man … it’s going to end badly, I can feel it in my waters.

And everyone does a bit of fake laughery after except Lynda who just yells – again – that she was not dumped.

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Sorry. I said it would happen.

Some cheesy oriental music starts up as they all sit down to eat. Everyone has chopsticks and as it turns out … Lynda isn’t so good with them. She kinda shovels food into her mouth. And off the plate. And drops a lot. And throws some at Kenny.

Spike goes to show her how to do it, which makes her get all supercompetitive and there’s this whole wild-west showdown with Spike and Lynda eating and staring each other down with close ups of their eyes and Lynda’s food-stained mouth and then they reach a point where Spike has one piece of food left and Lynda has three and they stare each other off and Spike looks all relaxed, until Lynda stabs all three remaining morsels of food with her chopsticks and jams them into her mouth. And then wipes her face in a show of victory. Hot.

Spike says that Lynda is the only person he’s met who eats dinner to win. She stares at him for a while and goes from stony faced to slightly less as she admits that she was dumped and walks out of the room and into the bathroom.

The three remaining kids wonder if Lynda is crying. Kenny wonders if she does cry.

Colin walks back in to break up the awkward, only he looks completely shut down. He plonks himself into a chair and tells them his story.

The rich guy died last week. It was his funeral this afternoon and they were having the wake at his house. Colin admits heavily that he regrets pushing past the guy who opened the door, rushing into the house and shouting ‘Hi walter, I’m a bunnygram!’ to a room full of mourners.

Ouch.

Colin looks devastated and on the verge of tears. He excuses himself to go into the toilet and whimper for a bit, but Kenny points out that it’s taken and suggests under one of the desks.

And you know … I always wondered where I got my urge to hide under the desk at work whenever things got a bit difficult. Now I know. Thanks you, wonderful show.

Spike goes and knocks on the toilet door and gives her a lovely speech about how he knows she’s upset and he mentions that his dad thinks apologizing is what your wife does when you hit her enough – and I am wondering when this cute kids show became such heavy going with the dead people and the awkward and the domestic violence references.

Spike is telling Lynda that the reason he came in was to show her that he’s not the jerk she thinks he is, and he’s also found out that she’s not a total bich – but they don’t say bitch because this is kids TV and while throwaway comments about domestic violence are ok, the b-word is not – but that she’s human and he tells her she doesn’t have to hide it and they won’t think she’s lousy because she cries and stuff.

At which point she opens the door and barges straight past him without saying a word and back into the newsroom. She turns the lights on and becomes all editor-lady and starts giving everyone orders. In another nice callback, Kenny is still working on a hillwalking story.

For the first time all episode, I wonder why they need late duty at all … given that they just spent the entire night tooling around? It doesn’t matter, I suppose, but I am curious.

Spike tries to talk to her, and she denies that she was crying and he tells her she can’t keep up the ice-princess thing. Which she takes as a challenge to do just that, and yells out some more orders as we freeze frame and go to credits, with just the sound of Colin sobbing in the background.

Grade: A- The minus is for the difficulty level of recapping such awesome dialogue. More Spike and Lynda, please.

Australian Idol: What The Frock?

SPIEL #1 - I'm quite glad that the judges on Idol have actually addressed their issews (or rather, Mark's issews) regarding Dicko and the supposed superfluousness (superfluity?) of the fourth judge concept. Mark, this entire series, has proven himself to be a massive whiny bitch, and I personally believe that the competition could stand to lose him as a judge in the future. I get that Mark has certain legitimate criticisms of Dicko, but really, Marcia isn't being stupid and pathetic about him, so why can't he just get over it? It's like Mark is some little kid whose dad left him one day, and then came back years later, and he still has residual trust issues. Issues which manifest themselves in blatant acts of famewhoring, namely, going to the media to drum up support for his pointless crusade.

Eff off Mark, right now.

SPIEL #2 - Can we talk about the Young Divas? Apart from having the most laughably stupid name for a girl group ever, they're also a little bit like the adult version of High-5, except with perhaps less music cred. Just like High-5, you can replace any one of the "divas" and nobody really knows or cares.

Being serious for a second, I feel for the ex Idols, whether Diva or otherwise, and I think that Idol should be more of a contest to win money or other fabulous prizes, rather than a serious search for the next big Australian musician. I absolutely love Idol, but it taints the whole experience when you look at the cost of people's dignity at the end. Not to mention some of the truly awful music that we have to listen to.

Rexona Girl Deodorant commercials - I challenge the theory as espoused by Amali Ward that a simple anti-perspirant can "get you through" a competition such as Australian Idol. Really, these ads are so, so stupid.

The results - no surprises there with Daniel Mifsud leaving the competition. I still am bitter about Marty still being in the competition, but at least we don't have to type 'Mifsud' anymore.

(Matt Corby is wearing a clown-pattern mini-dress tonight. I am dead serious.)

Australian Idol: Judges' Choice

On Friday night I was a total loser and watched the Australian Idol 'Doin' it For The Kids' special. The Helping Sick Kids From The Bush theme got extremely boring as the night wore on, and I didn't appreciate being guilt tripped into donating to some free helicopter service, or even worse, auctioning to buy crap items on offer from the Kyle Sandilands collection. But it was at least partly entertaining.

I quite enjoyed Natalie Gauci's take on Crazy. That was a shock, because I didn't really like it all that much when she performed it in the earlier rounds (which, by the way, seems like several years ago now). Disappointing that Ben wasn't there though. Howcome last year when Bobby Flynn was kicked out he was allowed to come back for the Up Close And Personal show but Ben wasn't allowed to perform on Friday night too?

[Don't worry though, Ben. We'll go shopping, yeah? We will be FABULOUS. Yes we will.]

Anyway - tonight's Idol, which was the first round where each Idol performed two songs, was Judges' Choice, otherwise known as the Swap Back and Forth Between Idol And Watching Kevin Rudd Walking All Over John Howard night.

Why didn't they just make it easier on me and do a genre cross-over? We could have the audience gauging the Idols' performances with the little wormy thing at the bottom of the screen -- then we might be able to get an interactive measure of just how shit Marty Simpson's flaccid attempts at producing a marketable sound are. It might also have been interesting to see how far the worm dipped whenever Daniel Mifsud hit any of the many crap high notes that punctuated his deplorable performance.

On the flip side, we could have had John Howard leaping about the stage singing Sinead O'Connor. Hey - girlfriend's already got the funky baldness going on. And you look me in the eye and say you wouldn't love to see Kevin Rudd in a pair of emo pants, sporting a mop of floppy, boot-polished hair.

Actually, I doubt that would work.

Anyway!

Tarisai Vushe - I am still loving that crazy-arse hair of hers and I generally think she's got a wicked voice. HOWEVER, and this is a big however, I think she is ultimately hampered by her lack of personality. Every week she struggles to come across as the quiet and personable type (but fails), and she's extremely inarticulate, which makes the case for wanting her to win pret-ty thin.

Daniel Mifsud - It's so disturbing to me that every week his hair resembles that of Tracy Turnblad. I also find it difficult to look at him when he's singing because he does this weird thing with his non-mic hand that looks like he's... well... interfering with himself. In matters pertaining to his vocal quality: it's a bit too meh, really.

Carl Riseley - It was actually Friday night that I realised this, but I've changed how I feel about Carl. He's less of a goober than he was in previous weeks. He even looks better, for some reason. I don't want him to win (nor do I expect him to) but I feel that his inclusion in the competition thus far isn't totally unwarranted. I dislike the Michael Buble genre, but after several weeks of internal warring over the merits of Carl Riseley's passable voice and mediocre taste in music, I have made my peace with it and am ready to move on. I feel like the protagonist in some really shit novel.

Marty Simpson - ehhh. What can I say that hasn't been said? I swear every time he steps out on stage he consults a checklist of excuses for why he sucks so much:

Marty Simpson Excuse Checklist:

I can't perform on my guitar
There isn't enough time
Australian Idol is wrong for me
I'm a surfie rocker type guy
This genre doesn't suit my unique style
My legs hurt
Wah wahhh wahh

Folks, it really has gotten too far. Is Australia trying to punk me or something? Is there actually any substance to these rumours about Idol being fixed? Because... I am at a loss. Please end it. I NEVER want to hear him do Bob Marley again. Likewise, I never want to have his bogan taste inflicted on me again in the form of Pearl Jam's Last Kiss. Oh, and his story about how the song meant more to him because he had a friend who died in a motorcycle accident didn't shake my belief that it was the single most bogan song choice of any contestant EVER.

Matt Corby - he da winner fo sho. The weird Von Trapp thing that he wore tonight for his first performance was weird, but I quite enjoyed his go at that song from the Phanton of the Opera. It could only be Mark Holden who gave him that. The second song saw him back to his usual fare -- sitting at a piano and singing soulfully, whilst occasionally looking up to dazzle us with those disarming blue eyes of his.

Natalie Gauci - whee! I think she's back on the wheat, poor love. Apart from being a FAT HEIFER*, she's also my second favourite in the competition now that Ben has gone (sigh) (Ben, my offer to hang out still stands, mkay. A friend of mine reckons he knows your ex, and from the sound of it I reckon we'd have a lot in common. So yeah, call me?), and I reckon she's THIS CLOSE to being other people's second favourite as well. Just give her a chance, y'all.

Right. Not a bad night, unlike last week. I'm hoping all the crappiness of last week and the disappointing result will have made way for a good result tomorrow night. Make it happen, twelve year old girls of Australia.

G'night everyone.


Irrelevant side-note: On Rove tonight, the guests included Stephen Curry and some stupid jockey. A JOCKEY, PEOPLE. I was embarrassed for Rove, to be honest.


* I'm just exaggerating, der.

In True ActonB Style ...

I'd like to let everyone know that the Press Gang recap may be a little late this week. I'm aiming for tomorrow night. But if not you'll have to wait until Sunday.

I know. I suck.

Hugs,

Chesticles LaRue

ps. Has anyone else caught any of Life? I've watched the first couple of eps and I'm not quite sure what I think of it.

pps. I love House with my whole heart.

ppps. Last night on the stupid 5th Grader show some lady who claimed to be a teacher was convinced that the word 'Tuesday' posessed two vowels. It was possibly the most excruciating three minutes of TV I've ever seen. But (rare) props to Rove for actually making fun of her for it.

Old-Skool TV: The LD on The OC

I mostly missed The OC the first time round - I saw bits and pieces and I followed the plot in a vague kind of way just through knowing people who were kind of obsessed with it. When I watched it, I really liked it, but life (or The Bill) kept getting in the way and I don't think I ever saw more than four or five episodes in a row.

Which is why I never really hated Marissa Cooper.

See, in four or five episode grabs she's not that bad. Sure, she's going 'through something', but you can kind of convince yourself that she's only going through something in this arc, and when you weren't watching, she was off being happy and content and well adjusted.

Plus - and I know opinion is divided on this one - I think she looks kind of amazing. She's not exactly pretty, but she's very very striking. Which I know isn't really a Marissa Cooper thing, but a Mischa Barton thing, but it's easier to look at people when they're not unattractive.

Then I went and bought the first season on DVD.

And while some of it is utterly awesome saturday morning viewing, I'm now nineteen-odd episodes in and I'm totally with all those TWoPers and bloggers and everyone else who was wanting Marissa Cooper dead way sooner than the end of Season Three.

Because, really, has she got any more Rich Girl With Problem cliches to play out?

That girl is seriously never happy, is she? She's like this big old hole of self-destructive behaviour and tantrums and dramaqueendom that would put Brenda Walsh to shame. I can just see them writing her charcter, pulling out every single 'troubled child' indicator in the world.

It's not just that she's self destructive. She's also kind of dumb. Because Oliver? So obviously a nutjob. So obviously. It couldn't have been any clearer if he'd been wearing the t-shirt and attached a big neon sign to his forehead. And, really - you met the guy in therapy, which should be your first indicator that maybe he wasn't the best person to get involved with.

That whole plotline made me want to throw things at the TV.

And getting trashed in Mexico? And shoplifting? Good times. And losing your virginity to a guy just because he's always shitty with you? Yeah. Smrt. Real smrt.

And bear in mind kids, that I'm not even through the first season, and that's not even counting all the bad things that have happened to Marissa Cooper that aren't anything to do with her being dumb or self-destructive, like being born to that adorable witch, Julie, or having her paretns split up and her dad be beaten up at catillion and investigated by the SEC and her little sister vanish without a trace or a word from anyone, including her parents.

And you know, I kinda get the writers predicament here. Mischa Barton is striking, but when she smiles she looks kind of ... odd. Very odd, in fact. So odd that I would advise against making her smile too often lest it put off the viewers. Pouting and confused and sad - she looks striking. Smiling - she looks clownish. So I guess they're working to her talents?

Whatever the reason for the endless onslaught of Poor Little Rich Girl, it's keeping The OC from being as awesome as it could be.

I'm loving the show, but from what I know of seasons 2 and 3, the Marissa thing is just going to get more and more annoying. Bring on her death, I say.

Crossposted here.

I.

Am.

GOBSMACKED.

My Idol watching this year has had its ups and downs, for sure. When Sarah Lloyde didn't get through to the Top 12, that was disappointing. When Daniel Mifsud got served an entirely unjustified Touchdown, that was pretty hard to deal with, too. But one of the few constants that could be relied upon throughout the competition has been my absolute adoration of Ben McKenzie. I know that sounds a little pervy, but in a completely platonic way I sort of fell in love with him: the spotty, squeaky voiced teen, the little brother, the musical theatre enthusiast, the effeminate seventeen year old. And you know what? I think, in some perverse way, I identified with him.

So to see him gone, especially in such unfair and uncalled-for circumstances, says so much about how totally BACKWARD this year's Australian Idol is. I don't know if it's the Ricki-Lee Effect back in full force, but any competition in which Matt Corby and Ben McKenzie can possibly be judged worse than the likes of Marty Simpson, clearly something is very, very wrong.

I get that his performance last night was not great, and you can't seriously expect your favourites to be safe every week just because you like them, but this? This was not justified.

And Marty Simpson, despite not being in any real way accountable for the decision, needs to wipe that self satisfied smirk off his dirty, unwashed and possibly gangrenous face. That wave you are riding, dear Marty, is a wave of pity, and it will dump your sorry arse on a jagged rock at some stage.

In the past my comments about Marty Simpson have possessed a certain ironic air, even when scathing and downright vitriolic, but tonight I really feel almost personally insulted that he will be back again next week, and Ben won't. YES, it's just a TV show, but STILL.

Dicko may have lost some money on Centrebet (and from the look in his eyes I'm guessing it was a sizeable sum of money), but Australian Idol 2007 has lost so, so much more.

As a reminder, I'm going to post the video of Ben singing Mad World, arguably one of the best performances of the series. I defy Marty Simpson to do anything like it, even with his precious guitar and a bottle of Felix Felicis in hand.



Not happy Jan.




Afterthought: At least I have a new episode of Weeds to keep me in good spirits. Channel Nine, tonight at 10.40. Hint HINT.

Australian Idol: The Year Their Mums Shat Them Out

Highlights from tonight's Australian Idol:

- Marcia slamming the desk and shouting an expletive
- Tarisai wasn't actually born in 1999
- Baby photos are no indication of how good looking a person will turn out to be
- Marty Simpson's voice "one of the best we've ever had on Idol"

And that's about it. Seriously, when did Idol get so boring? For the first time in a while I just didn't care for any of the performances.

Ben made the mistake of forgetting which genre was worst for him - rock - and went ahead and tried to do rock. Carl is a good looking guy, and you get the impression from the judge's comments that he's a nice person back stage, but the boring suit and predictable song choice is wearing mightily thin.

Natalie sang Endless Love, a song that makes me think of Happy Gilmore. Tarisai is nice and all, but you can't help but feel that she'd be a massive bitch in real life. When the judges try to joke with her it feels just uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Marty Simpson is Marty Simpson, and that's all I can say about that.

Matt Corby, who was described hilariously as the Kevin Rudd of Australian Idol, appeared just as usual, like he didn't care to properly dress and groom himself. But tonight was the first time it really bothered me. Like, I get that you're hobo chic and everything, but the illusion is ruined somewhat by the fact that your hair is always hobo-ified exactly the same every week. Comes off a tad forced, yeah?

Daniel Mifsud took all of the judges' aspersions against arranging a song to within an inch of its life and did EXACTLY THAT. He sped Billie Jean up to a reasonable beat, I must concede, but it's a great song to rouse the audience from their collective coma and he just didn't deliver.

So... all in all not a great set of performances tonight. The worst part, I think, was hearing at least half the Idols whingeing about how the year they were born in gave them virtually no songs to work with. I get that 1990 might yield little choice (Hammer Time, anyone?) but, like, can you shut up please? Thanks.

The only thing I feel good about after tonight is that I'm fairly sure that Marty Simpson will be leaving the competition. Other than that, the Year The Idols Were Born was a pretty crap night.

What did y'all think? Am I way off the mark, or was tonight a bit of a dud?

Press Gang: Deadline (AKA Not the One Where Someone Dies)

It’s Press Gang time again, and I know you’re all excited.

Ok. Maybe it’s just me that’s excited. But that’s the most important thing, right? That I’m amused?

Right.

So, on with the show!

This evening we open on the entire junior gazette staff crammed into a bathroom as Danny spies on Lynda and Kerr with his camera. His camera that looks like an SLR with about a 50mm lens, but that is actually a special zoom lens. The cynic in me would suggest that the camera is only in use to a) give Danny something to do (and why? He’s not in the credits – why does he need anything to do? Why can’t Spike do more?) and b) give us those funky ‘the screen is the camera lens’ shots with the centrebox and the focus point marked out on the screen.

read the rest

So they’re spying on Lynda and Kerr and Lynda is pulling on her left earlobe which apparently means it’s good. Which makes everyone cheer. Especially Sarah who has been edgy to leave because she has a date with Garry Morris after this. At least it’s not James Armstrong, I think. Whatever happened to him? Spike is counting Sarah’s mentions of her date and he gets up to 266.

Colin is on the phone selling advertising to someone based on a story their running of the opening of their shop the next day.

Everyone is dispersing but Danny is still looking in his magical camera and he’s noticed something strange happening. Lynda and Kerr are going into another room. With two guys. Who look like printers! Because you can pick a printer just by looking at them in 1989! And now Lynda is tugging on her right earlobe. Which is bad news.

How bad, you ask? Very bad, Lynda explains to the group (sans Sarah). The printers are going on strike at midnight and there will be no Junior Gazette next week until they can have it ready to print by 10.30 tonight.

Everyone is all confused and I’ll admit – so am I. Can’t they just get another printer? It’s not like there’s only one. Or maybe in 1989 there is. Who knows? Anyway, it comes to this: they have three hours to write next weeks news.

And cue funky music and frantic typewritery and the title of the episode: Deadline. Damn. I was hoping that meant it was one of the controversial one where someone dies.

Kenny tries to convince Lynda that this whole thing is really stupid. I think it’s far more entertaining that a ‘teacher feature’ so far, so I’m willing to go with it. Lynda is convinced it will be fine, and points out to Kenny that this is what a ‘rainy day file’ is for. Kenny is pretty sure that the rainy day file is full of wet stories (heh), and that they can’t lead with the story of a little old lady with 27 cats if she’s planning to make a coat out of them.

I disagree. I think that would be hilarious, but I am just one (1) girl.

In the meantime, Spike seems to have been charged with finding Sarah and dragging her back to the newsroom to write something. His first attempt achieves nothing but alerting Sarah’s mother to the fact that her daughter is at a party she was banned from going to with a boy she was banned from seeing. If I liked Sarah, I might feel bad for her. But I don’t, so I’m amused.

More amusement comes from the bewildered look on Fraz’s face as he wonders how he’s going to do the horoscopes a week in advance. Spike tells him to make it up, which just bewilders him more – how is he meant to know what he’ll make up a week in advance.

Spike points out that it could be worse and that someone has to report on the football a week in advance.

And picking up yet another of the bazillion plotlines we’re going to have to follow through this episode, Colin is pointing out to Lynda that they can’t afford to do this whole thing. Remember how he sold that ad based on the story about the shop opening? Well he guaranteed the advertiser that he would get a photo of some local celebrity called Tommy Anderson at their shop opening the next morning to seal the deal. And now that they’re printing tonight they can’t get the photo. And if they don’t get the photo, they don’t get the ad.

Lynda doesn’t really care. She just wants the whole thing fixed. And I don’t blame her. Colin can be amusing and cute, but he’s a bit of a shitheel at times.

Spike’s next move in Operation-Find-Sarah is to drop her in it with one of her friends – who thought that Garry Morris was her boyfriend. Poor Spike. Poor Sarah (heh).

Awesomely, Kenny has found a story. Not awesomely, it’s about Mr Sullivan’s sewage-infested garden, which sounds about as interesting to me as the one about the lady with the cats called ‘pocket’ and ‘collar’. Awesomely, the story is going to see this episode littered with poo jokes, and I love me a good poo joke. Not awesomely, they never say the word ‘poo’.

Awesomely, Colin’s got a plan to get Local Celebrity Tommy Anderson to go down to the shop tonight so they can get the photo they need. Not awesomely, Colin has sold Tommy something dodgy in the past and Tommy tells him to get bent.

Awesomely, Tiddler has a suggestion for the football story. Not awesomely, Fraz doesn’t think it’s going to work. Or – is that awesome because he pulls his cute cynical face?

So Kenny goes off to see Mr Sullivan and Colin grabs Danny and goes off to see Tommy Anderson and Mr Sullivan ditches Kenny to go on a date with some hottie and Tommy Anderson slams the door in Colin’s face. This is all not boding well for the Junior Gazette.

Meanwhile, Sarah is out on her date. She looks like she borrowed her grandmothers floral church dress, tore it into pieces and layered it over a black cropped singlet and tights. With a topknot. And black boots. With white socks. And she still looks way better than Garry Morris, who is short. And wearing a suit. With a stupid hat. And a red waistcoat. And a slight Mr Bean accent.

Obviously, he’s not wearing the hat. If he was we wouldn’t be able to see that he’s pulled his mullet back into a ponytail with a little coloured scarf.

He’s holding the hat, and being all aloof while Sarah does this whole sickening overenergised chatty thing.

Spike catches up with them and tells Sarah about the printers strike. She gets all pissy because she’s on a date with Mullet Man, and Mullet Man gets all pissy and Spike gets all sarcastic to Mullet Man and I love him just a little bit more with every cutting insult that comes out of his beautiful rubber-lipped mouth. But Sarah’s not falling for it. She points out that not everyone does everything that Lynda wants, because not everyone is nuts about her and she stomps off in her black boots with her white socks. But she does take her notes. So small victory.

Spike looks kind of shocked and wounded and denies that he’s nuts about her. Hush, Spike. She’s just jealous. Remember when she was looking you up and down in the first episode? Yeah. She’s jealous. Don’t let the jealousy bring you down.

As for the denial … I have one word: bathwater. Liar.

Back at the newsroom, Lynda is doing her best to sabotage Sullivan’s date. Tiddler and Fraz are working out team lists and strategies and he’s still looking all cynical. Spike arrives back with news of Sarah. It’s all happening, as usual.

Damn this show is hard to recap. There is so much going on. Stupid show.

I mean, er, I love this show. *hugs show*

Colin and Danny are back at Tommy’s house, trying to get him down to the store with tales of a this-is-your-life type surprise. It doesn’t work and Tommy slams the door on them again.

Sarah is at the party, pashing on with Mullet Man. No, I lie. She’s on the phone to Kenny. Because I know that when I am at a party trying to have a good time with a boy I like and avoid some people who assume I have no life and am available to do anything they want wheever they want, I too will sit in the hallway and talk to them on the phone instead of trying to charm the pants off my date.

No, not really. You?

Anyway, she’s on the phone to Kenny. Telling him over and over she’s not writing the story. But not hanging up. Julie grabs the phone and guides Sarah to the little black book in Mullet Man’s pocket. Predictably, the little black book contains ratings out of ten and a list of all the girls he asked to the party first.

Sarah is a four. She hangs up.

At the newsroom, Julie tells the boys she was a nine. Kenny is still confused as to whether this means Sarah will do the story. Julie says yes. Spike suggests she will sooner attempt suicide. I’d pay to see that – and I’ll take the one-way ticket to hell as well. Thx.

Lynda accosts Sullivan at what is apparently a fancy restaurant but looks more like a cheaply decorated faux-swiss chalet. There’s a bit of banter about Sullivan’s virility and his date and his French. It’s very nearly flirty, and they’re standing in this rather couply pose and she’s looking up at him with these big Lynda eyes, which is kind of icky due to the whole Lynda-is-sixteen-and-Sullivan-is-her-teacher thing, but it seems to do the trick because she manages to blackmail him into letting her join him and his date for dinner.

At the party, Sarah is sitting on the bathroom floor. Her wrists are intact, which is – good, I suppose. She gets out her pen and her notes and grabs the roll of toilet paper. Everything’s coming up Junior gazette, but I’m still fascinated by her white socks. I mean, I get it. It was the 80’s. We all did it. But … I still hate her.

Mullet Man is knocking on the door. Sarah tells him off with one of her patented lectures about being a dickhead and her not standing for it. And yes, I know he’s a dick, but I still want her to shut up.

Happily, she gets her comeuppance when Mullet Man interrupts her self-righteous rant to tell her he only wanted to use the bathroom. Take that, Sarah.

And we’ve been away from the newsroom for a while so it’s about time we cut back there, yeah? Tiddler and Fraz are finishing up a game of tiddlywinks and I can’t help but notice that she has the stupidest crush on him, despite the fact that he can’t tiddlywinks for shit.

Over at Tommy’s house, some little old lady has interrupted his evening to ask for help. He picks her as a patsy right away, and she drops the little-old-lady voice and goes all ‘you rumbled me’. He replies in a bogey-esque ‘That’s right, shweethart’ and that’s kinda why I love this show. Even the old lady and the Local Celebrity play well off each other. Not that it’s going to help Colin with his photo, especially after Danny shows up to point out that it’s all useless because even f they could get Tommy down to the store, the sign isn’t up yet.

At the restaurant, Sullivans poo story has put his date – who never got told the one about the red hair and purple satin not being the best of friends – into a bit of a huff. He’s not getting lucky tonight. Unless … you know. Lynda.

Eh. Make that one-way ticket on the Helltrain first class. Ew.

Back to the show.

Sarah is on the phone to Kenny and he’s all chuffed because she wrote her story and she’s all chuffed because … I don’t know why. She hang up and hugs her writer-all-over roll of TP as Mullet Man calls out for the bathroom because he’s obviously done a big sloppy one (I’m sorry … I’m 12 really - and immature at that) and there’s no paper. So she passes him his little black book and is all amused with herself.

Ok. I’m a teeny bit amused with her too. But just this once.

See how everything is coming together? Can’t you just hear that background music? That music they play any time things come together for my favourite bunch of malcontents? Sarah’s back at the newsroom typing up her story, and Lynda’s approved the write-up of the football game, and Lynda’s got the poo story.

Now all they need is Colin’s photo.

Thankfully, Colin has yet another idea. It’s not even a terrible one. And it works – for the next time Tommy Anderson opens his front door he may be in his pyjamas and looking all bleary-eyed, but he’s also standing under the temporarily relocated shop sign and in front of a photographer.

It’s almost beautiful, never mind that it’s very obviously nighttime.

So then we get the typical shots of the printers and some really cheesy hurrah music and Lynda and Colin and Kenny are standing at the presses with big cheesy smiles and Kenny is all ‘We did it!’

And it would be a fine and dandy bit old pile of cheese if they ended it there. But no, Kenny has to turn to Colin and ask ‘Tommy Anderson? Wasn’t he the one who …?’ and Kenny and Colin have to smile and nod and I have to not get it at all. I didn’t mind that Spike was the one at the school dance who … but at least that was a running joke. This is just completely and irritatingly random.

And because obviously they couldn’t end the show on that big pile of wtf, now it all goes back to where it started, and they’re spying on Kerr with the printers. Tiddler wonders what Kerr would do if he found out they were spying on him, and of course everyone is all like ‘he wont find out’, just as Kerr looks out the window and … pulls on his right earlobe.

Too funny.

And that’s another episode. Done and dusted. Except for the Credit talkies, which are Sarah inviting Garry and a whole bunch of his girlfriends to the same place at the same time. I hate Sarah.

But it is a teeny bit funny.

Grade: Oh, C+ I've been too hard on you show *hugs show*

So You Think You Can Cheat This Week?

So, things aren't going so well in B Land (just the stress and whatnot, and the fact that time is doing bizarre bendy timey-wimey stuff. And disappearing), and therefore I shall be posting this, which is the link to the TWoP recap for this episode...

And this is the results show.

My thoughts:

Cat was wearing a dress that appeared to have been designed by someone who ate an entire box of Quality Street and then saved all the pretty wrappers. Who then awoke from their sugar-induced coma to sew all said wrappers together to make Cat a dress of total deliciousness. Except for the Strawberry Creams, which are of Satan.

Pasha and Sara's Swing number rocked in so many ways...

Lacey and Kameron (despite being my least favourite couple) managed to hustle like nobody's business... although Lacey's pants were hypnotically ugly...

Hok looked so uncomfortable in his grey suit.. Still the epitome of cuteness, but like he was dressed up as a Flower Boy at his Second Cousin's wedding... And in desperate need of a hug. But NOT from Jaimie, large chested trollop that she is - crushing on my Hok like that. Tut!

And surprise surprise! Cedric got the boot! And all the people said.... ABOUT BLOODY TIME!

Are you smarter than a 5th Grader?

Last night there was a televisual hole after Futurama and before House started so I started watching Are You Smarter Than a 5^th Grader? While I remain very concerned that they couldn’t just flip two words around to make it Australian school centric rather than further Americanising our culture I thought that maybe it would be OK. It is very popular in the USA. I was busily admiring the set and the cute kids who all seem very bright and Rove had a t-shirt on that looked a bit like “The Amazing Adventures of Kavelier and Kray” but I couldn’t see it properly so all in all it wasn’t off to a bad start. In all the ads for the show, when they were giving sample questions they just seemed so easy that I was wondering how the show would keep up the suspense.

Then on came the adult contestant. I wonder if they trawled Australia to find those that had a distinct sub-par intelligence level? The questions that were posed were so tricky, for example “What degree of latitude is the equator?” of course the man involved didn’t seem to know that it would be 0, but the grade five boy did. What a big surprise. Oh dear, I think that I can see where this quiz show is going. There were a few more, very drawn out questions all of which the contestant had trouble answering but the kids knew really very quickly. Even I knew the answers! The kids were having trouble not rolling their eyes at the stupid adult.

The extremely unfunny and formulaic ending had the adult contestant turn to the camera and say “I’m not smarter than a 5^th grader” * Cringe*. I’m afraid that I had to turn off the tele after that. I couldn’t watch the rest even for the SESA readers because I could feel myself getting stupider every moment I watched the show.

Verdict: Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader is a good way of lowering your own IQ if you were feeling a little too intelligent that day. It also might be good to make your kids feel even more superior to the adults in the room.

Crapness

Don't worry... the SYTYCD recap is coming, I promise. I'm just... a little overwhelmed right now.

But I promise it will be up before the next one screens... and then THAT recap will probably be done as I wing my way to KL.... oooh exotic vibes!

And...... YAYNESSSSSSSS! for the return of the boys and the Metallicar next week...

Australian Idol: London Calling

Remember Jacob's vow not to talk about Australian Idol until one Aggro Simpson gets kicked out? Well, he decided to let me have a go at it in the meantime. I'm one of his cousins you don't see a lot... er, BartBart, and I'll be posting tonight in his absence.

So for tonight's Idol theme, Britpop, we have London calling -- and when the Mother Country calls you gotta accept the charges! I sat back and thought of England all right. I only hope Jacob Butler got his pants back from the dry cleaners before tonight's show: he must have totally creamed in them the moment he heard about British pop night. Ahem.

Dirty jokes aside, it wasn't a totally bad night, continuing a rather merciful trend of overall decency. The only thing that's confusing me about Idol this year is that the contestants are predominantly of the male persuasion, yet most of the said males are kind of lame and boring, whereas the two lonely women perform well week in and week out. Then you look at Carl Riseley and Marty Simpson, for instance. I'm not just having a go because I'm a prejudiced dickhead, it seriously does not make sense that they are still there.

They get on stage and it's like I'm Will Ferrell's character from Zoolander: I FEEL LIKE I'M TAKING CRAZY PILLS HERE!

Mr. One Trick Pony (and really, the one trick wasn't that interesting in the first place) and Marty "I don't sing covers" Simpson, who even tonight admitted sheepishly that he doesn't belong there. I like that Dicko beseeched the audience to not vote for Marty, but I have a feeling that it might result in a few 'don't vote for him? How's this for not voting!' votes.

So we're down to just eight Idols. Carl performs first, and as I've already had my spiel about him I don't see much point in extrapolating. It's a Harry Connick Junior cover of Can't Buy Me Love. Moving on.

And it's Tarisai, and I am tickled pink that she chose a big belter of a Queen song, Somebody To Love. "This is a little story about myself" she says, to the general bemusement of everyone (is it meant to be a piece of rhetorical showmanship, or is she getting toey all stuck up in the Idol mansion?). Dicko asked her what that's about, and she pretty much gave a demonstration on how to avoid a question that probably could be cleared up with a simple "I miss my family". But anyway, it was a fecking ass-whomping performance, very worthy of a cheesy Touchdown, and we won't don't be doubting her diva credentials after tonight.

Kyle proved that he is a bit of a sweetheart with his comment to her, about looking his way if anyone is making the Idol experience difficult. They keep doing this: alluding to all the rumours and criticism that gets dealt to the Idols behind the scenes, without actually making it very clear what they're talking about. It's annoying.

(Ads: Oh my god, Lee Harding is obese and is sporting the most horrendous Rubeus Hagrid hair. Is he the absolute best person to be selling confectionary to children?)

Up next is Ben McKenzie, the perpetually squeaky, tight pants-wearing darling little brother of the Idol family. He's still heaps breathy with his singing, but I think we're at a stage where we can accept it as a funny performance quirk, because I quite like him. He sang Wonderwall, which is a bit on the dull side for me, but he does a decent job of it. The judges say a few things that get me cranky. Firstly, Marcia says something about light and shade. Okay, seriously: what the HELL does that even MEAN? It's the new phrase for '07 because I swear I haven't heard it before this year, and it doesn't even mean anything. Secondly, Kyle gives the ole backhanded compliment by saying how he's a little geek who never fails to deliver. I'm totally sympathising with Ben here. Get over it much?

Thirdly, Mark says something about how daunting it must have been to perform after Tiramisu. He is STILL saying Tiramisu? I was in a fit of giggles over James Mathison's reply: Mark, if you call Tarisai 'tiramisu' again I'm going to punch you in the throat. It's as simple as that.

Give that man a raise.

Right. Marty Simpson. The reason I'm writing this and not Jacob (ahem). I wish we could vote to evict, I really do. I'm sure even he would vote to end the suffering. I didn't appreciate Dicko's comments about how he's a brilliant performer who just isn't in the right setting to truly shine. Maybe my ears are wired different, but I don't hear anything special about his voice. It's like gravel stomped into butter and spread on burnt toast. Translation: yuck, get the fuck off my telly.

Up next is one of my two examples of underwhelming male singers on Idol: Jacob "my mum says I'm cool" Butler. I'm not surprised that Mark Da Costa is pissed that he was evicted before Jacob, in general, but tonight? Dude is pretty good. He sang the Beatles' Let It Be, and apart from what appeared to be a musically induced tantrum on stage during the latter half of the performance, I enjoyed it. Mark ripped on him for his crap enunciation ("let it beeeya!"), which I didn't notice until that point, but it does seem to be a pretty important point. Stupid Jacob!

Fun Fact: My other cousin, Jenni, went to school with Jacob Butler, and he was a "dick".

Daniel Mifsud. Bleh. Yaaaaaaaawn. I hated that he got a Touchdown last week: it was undeserved and it cheapened an already lame Idol institution. I don't care much for his constant butchering of old songs and I'm glad that Dicko called him out on it, because slowing down a song or adding superfluous vocal gymnastics does not a good arrangement make. He has my Hot Tip for an appearance in the bottom three tomorrow.

Anyway, let's put that behind us, and check in on Natalie Gauci, who sang Amy Winehouse's song about refusing to go back to rehab. I think I'll go out on a limb here and say that our Nat is decidedly classier than Amy Boozehouse. The pictures speak for themselves:


Incidentally, the picture on the right is what I would like to do to Daniel Mifsud. See, he's got the grey scarfe and everything.

I quite like it. The song didn't lose the funny and cheeky appeal of the original, in spite of the fact that Natalie was looking fresh faced and FRIGGIN HOT tonight. My cousin Jacob has called her the dark horse of the competition, which she totally is. Why would anyone vote for the likes of Daniel Mifsud, Jacob Butler and Aggro when the two girls are clearly kicking their sorry arses every single week?

Kyle wants to know what she's doing to look so good, and she says she doesn't eat wheat anymore. Hurray for anorexia! As Culture Strain Sam would say: Carbs are your friend.

Then, and this is the most astonishing part, the judges say that the song is lost on her, being all fresh of face and free of drugs and everything. Bastards!

I am SO a junkie slag.

You tell 'em Nat.

So with the seven warm-up acts out of the way, up next is Matt Corby! The first thing I think of when he comes out on stage is 'is he perhaps taking the hobo chic thing too far?' Granted, it sort of works for him, but I would at least like to see him come out with something.... different. Maybe. Anyway. He manages to hit a big long note withOUT the facial contortions required by some of the other contestant, so that's a big plus. It's a marvellous rendition of Bittersweet Symphony, and a well deserved Touchdown. Not that it matters after last week, but you know. Whatever.

So, that's it from BartBart. I'm not holding my breath for Marty Simpson to be gone by next week, but I sincerely hope so. If not, my other tips for eviction are Daniel Mifsud and Carl Riseley. I feel it's time to go for one of those three. But we shall see.

PS - Did Dicko use the word 'glossy' at all tonight? I don't think he did.

Press Gang: One Easy Lesson (AKA The Sarah Is Crap One)

I never really thought I’d say this but there were some really boring episodes in the first season, and this is one of them. Not surprisingly, it’s a Sarah episode. Stupid whingy Sarah.

But at least the credits are still awesome – although I don’t know why they feature Spike. Is he even in this episode? It doesn’t feel like it.

So, Lynda is standing outside a mens toilet. Is she waiting for Spike so they can banter and be adorable? No. She’s waiting for Sullivan – the ‘Stashe from the first episode – who owes her an article for the paper. He wants an extension and she’s not willing to give him one, until he points out that she owes him an English essay.

She says she’s busy. He says he’s busy.

She asks how busy he can be if he’s just spent eight minutes on the toilet, which is two minutes longer than yesterday and I kind of die a little inside at the fact that one of my TV idols is actually kind of … weird. And is wearing a polka-dot skirt. Yech.

Sullivan ignores Lynda to poke his head into an out of control classroom and ask the hapless teacher at it’s head if everything is ok – despite the fact that it’s obviously not – before wandering off. If you don’t know that this is going to be relevant later, it makes no sense. Thankfully – you have me to tell you. So you know.

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And … cut to newsroom. Today’s scene-setting montage goes like this: Kenny is hiding the phone. Colin has a huge box. Julie is suggesting an acne advice column. Fraz is training a bunch of new recruits while demonstrating his adorable dopiness. And a younger girl in a school uniform is watching it all through some bookshelves.

Sarah is looking mysteriously annoyed and Kenny tries to cheer her up by doing an impression of the teacher we saw earlier trying to quiet his class down. It doesn’t work and Sarah yells at him and runs away. Ok, so it was the worst impression I’ve ever seen and Kenny was really just talking like Kenny, but there was no need for yelling. Really. It’s just going to encourage him.

Meanwhile, Spike – who thankfully does have at least one line in this episode – asks Colin about the boxes. Which are full of half ping-pong balls that Colin spent a whole bunch of Junior Gazette ad money on. He says it was because it was a bargain and he couldn’t resist, but I’m sure it was just to give Lynda an opportunity to threaten to kill him and the episode a Cheesy Colin B-plot.

And … yes. He suddenly decided he’s going to sell the half-ping pong balls as ‘Pings’. Cheesy Colin B-plot – here we come.

These newsroom scenes are non-stop action as the younger girl in the uniform now parks herself at Sarah’s desk and starts typing on a blank sheet of paper. ‘The Junior Junior Gazette’. It’s a start, I suppose. At least she can spell ‘Junior’ – unlike Julie.

Lynda asks Kenny where Sarah is and he tells her she stormed out after he did his impression of Mr Knowles – the hapless teacher. He does the impression again and it’s still bad, and this would have been much funnier if Lynda had yelled at him and stormed off too. Which maybe she did because we don’t get to see her reaction as we’re suddenly in Knowles’ class …

He’s doing this pathetic whimpering ‘now settle down class’ thing and everyone is ignoring him except Sarah, who is shooting death stares at everyone who is ignoring him. The bell goes – which makes me think that he’s been saying ‘now settle down class’ for the past forty minutes, because why would he start a minute before the end of the class – and everyone runs out. Except Sarah. And Knowles. Who slumps in his chair. Sarah is seemingly hanging about to hear the homework assignment.

No, wait: it seems like Sarah and Knowles know each other. But are not getting it on – sadly. In fact, their relationship seems to consist of Knowles being pathetic and Sarah feeling sorry for him. Sigh. Secret student-teacher sex would be way more interesting.

Sullivan comes in and asks for a word. Sarah leaves to go and eavesdrop at the door as Sullivan reminds Knowles to believe in himself and various other advice that is really dumb. I’d be suggesting an AK47 fired into the ceiling. That would shut the little fuckers up.

Sarah’s eavesdropping is interrupted by Colin - who is covered in half-ping pong balls – asking her if she pings. And of course there is a cheesy ‘ping’ sound effect - just in case you didn’t know this was the Cheesy Colin B-plot.

Colin tries to sell her some ping headphones, for lovers of silence. It’s cute, but she’s all touchy this episode so yells at him to go away. Sullivan comes out of the room and gives them both filthy looks – even though Colin wasn’t even eavesdropping.

In the classroom, Knowles has his head in his hands and his glasses off. Diddums.

And …. more newsroom. Where Sarah is trying to sell Lynda on the idea of ‘Teacher Features’ – which will give everyone the opportunity to better know their teachers, except sounds a bit too much like ‘creature features’ for me to think it’s going to be flattering. Lynda right away picks not only that this is about Knowles, but that he’s Sarah’s cousin – which she worked out from the fact that Sarah got upset when Kenny did the impersonation. Right. Because Lynda is psychic now, but not psychic enough to know that this is a bad idea. So she agrees.

Incidentally, the potplant is covered in pings painted to look like ladybirds. Ping!

Fraz comes over and asks Lynda to tell her sister to stop using his typewriter. Lynda of course doesn’t have a sister but it looks like the younger girl in the uniform is busted …. She explains: her name is Tiddler and she thinks the Junior Gazette needs a kids page because there’s nothing in it for under 12s and she thinks writing such a page will put her in good stead to take over as editor when Lynda leaves school in a couple of years.

Lynda looks stunned … but what can she say to her twelve-year old self?

Julie interrupts to show Colin a poster she’s designed for his pings. Except she’s called them pongs so the poster says ‘do you pong?’ which isn’t quite the right question. It’s also really ugly. Julie is an idiot. I really have no time for her until Season Five.

Back at the school, Sarah is interviewing Knowles and he’s making all the usual statements about how he’s always wanted to be a teacher so he can shape young minds and improve the future and blah blah blah I don’t care. He also collects butterflies … which anyone with a brain would know will not endear him to your average fifteen-year-old kid.

Thankfully, Sarah is writing the story, so no such thought occurs to her.

Somewhere offscreen a newspaper gets printed, and in the next scene we see Kerr reading it while Lynda stares at him, longing for approval. He tells her it’s not bad, which she doesn’t like but then Chrissie’s mullet reminds her that not bad is good, by virtue of being … not bad.

You’d think these newspaper types would have a broader vocabulary … says me whose fallback word of the month is ‘awesome’.

Back at the school, Lynda does her creepy toilet thing with Sullivan and he also tells her the latest issue of the paper is not bad. Just out of shot, we hear a kids voice exclaim ‘butterflies?’ Hee.

In class, Knowles is showing off his butterfly collection, all proud and hopeful-like. Surprisingly, it seems to be going well. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t last and the kids start playing catch with some rather valuable specimens and – shock horror – they get broken.

Knowles looks devastated but as one of the kids rightly points out: it’s ok. They were already dead. Hahaha! Shitheads.

In Sullivans office Lynda and Sarah are getting a telling off for their Teacher Features, and for Knowles’ new nickname of ‘Butterfly’ – which isn’t really their fault. They’re smart, they would have come up with a much better nickname had they been given the chance. Especially if Spike was allowed more than two lines in this whole episode.

Sullivan starts making his lunch as he dismissed them. He has ping-sized portions of butter. Ping!

Sarah decides the best plan here is to talk to Knowles and say sorry, but he’s doing this whole ‘oh, the Junior Gazette did me a favour and made me realize I could never be a real teacher’ which – sure, there was no engagement of brain but – doesn’t strike me as fair. He was always a crap teacher. That’s not actually Sarah’s fault. The butterfly thing: Sarah’s fault. The crap teaching: not.

And believe me, I wish I could blame Sarah for all the evils of the world, so admitting she’s not responsible is kind of tough.

Sarah doesn’t take all this very well and tells him off for his defeatist attitude. This episode is so full of guilt-trippery I’m starting to feel bad for both Knowles being a crap teacher and for giving up on my dreams.

And then Sullivan called Kerr to complain about this whole Knowles mess – because Kerr is also responsible for Knowles being a crap teacher – and to tell him that the Nameless Headmaster is now having doubts about Knowles’ teaching ability and is going to pay a surprise visit on one of this classes next week to decide if he has a future in the job. Which Kerr of course passes onto Lynda, so she can do ‘something’. She leaves to go do her something and Kerr looks out his window and spots the totally obvious phone cable running between his window and the Junior Gazette office. Well done, Colin’s cousin. Subtle as fuckery.

Anyway, back to Knowles. Or, more accurately, back to Lynda and Sarah running into each other at the newsroom and doing an extremely cheesy simultaneous ‘we’ve got to do something!’ – because for some reason they are now solely responsibility for the success and/or failure of some guys teaching career.

And they call a meeting which involves lots of strategizing. Because between school and homework and actually putting out a newspaper, they now have to same a crap teachers career as well. So Danny has to pretend to take photos of the school admin assistant while surreptitiously taking photos of the master timetable, and then they have to figure out which class the headmaster is visiting and Sarah has to volunteer to help the admin assistant and sneakily photocopy a copy of the class list and then Spike and Fraz have to lean on all the students in that class to make them behave – but not look like they’re behaving because they’ve been leaned on, but because really Knowles is an awesome teacher. It’s all very very tedious.

Except maybe the last part. Because yay! Spike finally gets to do something!

So then we get a shot of Knowles, standing outside the classroom full of noisy kids and looking all apprehensive. He’s been let in on the plan but he’s all ‘is this right?’ – the answer to which is actually ‘no, of course it’s not. If you can’t teach, you’re just wasting everyone’s time’ but Sarah lies and tells him it’s all good.

So he walks in, sits down at his desk and goes to open his mouth with this weird scary wobble. But we don’t see what happens because we have to cut to Sarah and Fraz and -Yay! - Spike sitting in the hallway being all worried the plan hasn’t worked.

And we have to cut away to them at that moment, because otherwise we wouldn’t see two kids run past who are supposed to be in Knowles’ class and we wouldn’t find out that they leant on the wrong class!!!!!

Oh noes!

So they all run to the classroom in a panic and Sarah walks straight in and through some sheer miracle all the kids are being good and the headmaster is all impressed and Sarah is gobsmacked and calls Knowles out of the room to find out what the fuck is going on.

And as it turns out – Knowles believing he could control the class suddenly meant that he could. Because teaching is really like walking on hot coals! It’s all about self-belief! And probably The Secret!

Right.

So Knowles believes the kids will listen to him and suddenly they are little angels and at the end of the lesson the headmaster is happy and Knowles tells the class that he hopes they learnt a valuable lesson and then we get a close-up on his face as he mumbles ‘I know I did’ and smiles.

And … he’s really, really unattractive. Them British teeth and coke-bottle glasses don’t really work in close-up and for the first time in ages I’m glad I don’t have a plasma screen.

Back at the newsroom Sarah does a bit of exposition to sum up the moral of the story and then everyone leaves and Lynda is all alone when – shock! Horror! - the phone rings. She goes looking for it as the camera pulls back to that awesome birds-eye view of the newsroom that I honestly love – because I’m a nerd – before she finds the phone in the toilet. She answers it.

It’s Kerr. Obvs.

Roll credits. This time with stills! Thankfully the cheesy stills don’t last for long and we get the credit talkies and Lynda telling Sullivan his article was flabby. Yeah. Whatevs.

Grade: D. Needed More Spike. And Less Sarah. Even the Cheesy Colin B-plot wasn’t very interesting.

The Pursuit of Excellence

I'm just dropping by to say the The Pursuit of Excellence on the ABC was wonderfully shlocky and kind of cute in the way of all things cheesy.

For anyone who missed it: no weird orchid-obsessed old men or doe-eyed hairdressers or drag-queen outfits or strange scenes of mannequines floating away in floodwaters and being shot up by police officers or obligatory 'God made me to style hair' statements or totally amazing hairstyles (amazing in a what-the-fuck way, not so much in a 'that would look so good on me' way, although some of them did look awesome) for you, but tune in next week and you can see what happens behind the scenes of the Synchronised Swimming scene.

Did I no drag queen outfits? Ok, maybe I lied. It looks like you haven't missed the boat on that part.

The Pursuit of Excellence airs at 8pm on Tuesday on the good old ABC. Right before The Bill. Sweet.

Kids in the Kitchen

*** Warning: food puns ahead ***

No matter what else I might watch on the old teev, one thing that never fails to catch my attention is cooking. I don’t know whether it’s my pretensions to being some kind of dinner party host to the stars (or at least my friends), but I have always been intrigued by cooking shows, ever since my mother would let me watch King’s Kitchen (or as I liked to call it, “King’s Chooken”) while my sister had her afternoon sleep.

And haven’t there been a mess of cooking shows in the last decade? If it isn’t Jamie this, it’s Nigella that, and Gordon and Rick besides. Celebrity chefs are so thick on the ground you could use them as a handy alternative to porkers at a spit roast.

Given that the format of cooking shows is somewhat static, the appeal of cooking shows is based either on the expertise of the presenter or their folksiness (or in outstanding examples, such as ‘The Best’, a mixture of both). So here is my deconstruction of the currently available fare:

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The Cook and the Chef – ABC, 6:30pm, Wednesdays

If there are three words which define The Cook and the Chef, they are “nut-brown butter”. For crying out loud Maggie, isn’t it possible that you don’t always need your butter to be nut-freaking-brown? Every time butter is used, I hope that she will use some other adjective. But no. It’s nut-brown or nothing. Another friend claims that the utter lack of chemistry between Simon and Maggie is off-putting. I don't know. I kind of like the idea that they aren't pretending to like/respect/tolerate each other.



Iron Chef – SBS, 8:30pm Saturdays

Who doesn’t love Iron Chef*? The kitchen stadium, the ridiculous cravats, condescending commentators, the mindless consumption of raw capsicums. This show has it all!




My major beef with Iron Chef is that the theme ingredient is often incidental to the dish prepared. I wouldn’t argue, for example, that in a dish which features lobster, foie gras, saffron and the tears of a sentimental duck, the defining ingredient is zucchini.

The other thing that bugs me about this show are the celebrity guests. They seem to INSIST on having a woman on the panel, and then constantly ridicule her for her lack of knowledge about cooking. What is the point of that, other than to make me cross?

Ready, Steady Cook – Ten, 2:00pm weekdays

I like the idea of this show, though it is a complete rip off of Iron Chef. What a shame that the host has the kind of knowledge about cooking that David Reyne has about placebos. The chefs are good – but I do wonder why they bother with audience participation – it just seems to slow everything down.

Jamie at Home – Ten, 7:30pm, Fridays

One of my friends remarked recently that the great benefit of Jamie Oliver is that he has identified his niche. His niche appears to be people who can’t be bothered undertaking some kind of Homeric Odyssey to discover the oregano growing on the side of a forbidding cliff, picked by raven-haired virgins at midnight on a blue moon. His niche, therefore, is people like me, who are just pleased that their local supermarket actually stocks fresh kaffir lime leaves. Having said all of this, boy oh boy am I sick of Jamie Oliver.

Karen Martini on Better Homes and Gardens – Seven, 7:30pm Fridays

If only I could stand to wade through all the other home-renovations crap that is this show, I would quite like to see more of Karen Martini. She makes great food – and she has the ability to avoid talking-down to her audience without selling herself as some kind of skills-vortex.






And it doesn't stop there. You'll notice I haven't mentioned: Food Lovers Guide to Australia, Vasili's Kitchen, Huey's Cooking Adventures, Fresh, Surfing the Menu, Heart and Soul, the Hairy Bikers Ride Again, or the veritable pantheon currently available on pay-TV.





Or Two Fat Ladies, the Naked Chef, Cooking with Kurma, Yan Can Cook, Nigella Feasts, Delia Smith, Rick Stein's Fruits of the Sea, Surprise Chef, Nick Nairn, Captain Cook, or the BBC's amusing sit-com starring Lenny Henry, Chef!



Okay, so at the end of the day I’d rather be at Jacques Reymond, but in the meantime I’m happy to keep watching cooking shows. Who knows, one day I might even cook something.


* Mr Fix.


Also - you have no idea how difficult it was not to label this post "nut brown butter".