The Obscurer

Category: Media

Best Practice

Funny really; there I was on Friday night, taking advantage of the newly relaxed licensing laws, and disagreeing with my mates over the way George Best’s death had been handled across the media and elsewhere. Sure, the coverage was a tad excessive, I thought, but not unexpectedly so considering the fame of the man, and if needs be it could be (and was) easily ignored. Unlike my mates I didn’t think the obituaries were overly celebratory, they seemed quite happy to talk about the seamier side of his character; they even omitted the painful “where did it all go wrong, George” anecdote, or at least I never came across that story in any of the reports I saw.

We also argued over the minute’s silence. Why should every football match honour the man, they said, particularly such occasions as the City-Liverpool game where there was little chance the silence would be observed? Personally, however, while I am not a fan of such things most of the time, a brief moment to mark the life of such an influential figure in the game doesn’t seem undeserving; and if requesting some numskulls to shut up for a minute means we are giving them enough rope, then so be it.

I woke up on Saturday morning, nursing a hangover, cursing the state for not ordering me home at eleven o’clock the night before. I switched on the telly and did my eyes deceive me? Was the whole of the BBC1 schedule bumped to make way for live coverage of George Best’s funeral? Yes it was. I remembered the previous evening’s conversation when I defended the media’s handling of the story, and I started to feel a bit foolish. In the event Cbeebies soon filled our television screen (there was a particularly fine episode of Barnaby Bear at Loch Ness) and so I missed the sad occasion.

Seeking the hair of the dog the family Quinn made its way down Cheadle High Street in the afternoon for a spot of lunch. We popped into our favourite café bar for the first time since it had been refurbished, and discovered they had recently installed two new impressive flat screen TVs. They were showing News 24, which was beamed live from Stormont, covering the aftermath of Best’s funeral. Operation Overkill was in full swing as an endless parade of mourners was interviewed. I was confused; not that the funeral was considered newsworthy, but that it was being treated as an epoch making event.

“I suppose it will be like this when Beckham dies”, said my wife, and I nodded as I knocked back my first Stella, imagining what the coverage would be like a few decades hence.

But then I thought again; did my wife mean there would be a similar level of coverage if Beckham died now? What would happen if he died soon, like in the next week or so? If the coverage of George Best’s death was over the top, imagine that with the extra-added tragedy of a “brilliant” footballing career cut short? If Beckham does die imminently then he could even rival Diana for blanket media attention; and if Posh Spice survives the plane crash (I’ve decided it will be a plane crash), can you imagine her playing the grieving widow across print and screen? I don’t even want to think about it.

I wish David Beckham a long and prosperous life.

Balloons

My thanks to Steve for pointing me in the direction of YouTube, a sort of Flikr/Yahoo! Photos for your videos. Now I can effortlessly inflict my short films on you, and all for free.
If you have 4 minutes 24 seconds to spare, then you can check out my video of the Northampton Balloon Festival of 2004, complete with a cameo of my wife and son near the start of the vid. The quality isn’t 100%, although that is as much the fault of my cheap video camera as the compressing of the video file. If you make it to the end, then “Another Trial & Error Production” very much refers to my method of making films.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=6-LFcQaselw

F Off

Now, I don’t like Gordon Ramsey at the best of times; not particularly. If he thinks that the best way to motivate his staff is to bully, intimidate and verbally abuse them then that is a matter for him; but I don’t personally find it entertaining, amusing or admirable. The thing is, on the occasions when I have watched Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares I have seen moments where he has shown a genuine skill for inspiring respect and building confidence in others; but I suppose such scenes don’t feature in the trailers for the show because they don’t make good telly. Certainly, that positive aspect of his personality doesn’t seem to get a mention when I hear his fans discuss him; it is the effing and jeffing side of Ramsey that people seem to like, which Ramsey himself seems proud of, and which I just don’t understand. I suppose Ramsey would say that his job is a very stressful one; but so is mine, and at my work we simply couldn’t get the job done if my colleagues and I showed such disrespect towards each other. Anyone can lose their temper in the heat of the moment, including me, but afterwards I would hope to apologise, rather than revel in my rudeness. I suppose it comes down to the paradox where some people reckon that you need to bollock people occasionally to get things done…but no one says they appreciate a good bollocking to get themselves going.

Anyway, there is another side to Ramsey that I am not keen on and that is his amazing hypocrisy. It centres on his disdain for “celebrity chefs” such as Anthony Worrall Thompson. Fair enough, you may think, but this is pretty rich coming from someone who has appeared in Ramsey’s Boiling Point, Kitchen Nightmares and Hell’s Kitchen, and has enjoyed numerous appearances on Jonathan Ross, The Friday Night Project, various “Top 100 whatever” programmes and who even had his own calendar out last year. His appearances on other people’s shows are especially weird, as away from the kitchen he shows himself to be a real dullard. On his first appearance on Jonathan Ross he revealed he had nothing remotely interesting to say; when he was a guest the following series he tried to be more engaging by playing to type and swearing a lot for no good reason, and to little effect.

Well the hypocrisy has really been cranked up with his new series The F Word (F for food), which I saw a repeat of yesterday on More4 (incidentally the best new TV channel we have seen for some time, and probably the best we will see for a while; I’m not placing much faith in Sky3 or ITV4). His new programme begins with credits showing him looking mean and moody, the theme tune bashing out a pounding and dramatic beat, the screen is filled with a close up of his scar ridden face; then we see him stripping off his “civvy clothes” as he strides purposefully down a corridor. A long shot reveals his topless frame before the camera is focussed close in again on his fixed, firm expression (did you forget how serious and mean he is?) and then we watch as he changes into his chef’s gear before storming through the doors at the end of the corridor. Cut to a swish restaurant full of eager diners, a long spiral staircase with Ramsey at the summit; the crowd goes wild, cheering and applauding the arrival of their hero. Ramsey skips down the stairs, basking in glory, milking the applause. And this is a man who hates celebrity chefs?

To be honest, that was enough for me and I had to switch over; and I’m glad I did. Over on BBC2 Bill Oddie’s Autumnwatch was in full swing and it featured the most amazing sight of starlings flocking in huge numbers; it really had to be seen to be believed. If it’s ever on again then watch it; a sky almost black with birds that swirl in unison, looking like a school of sardines that go squeezing and twirling into all manner of bizarre shapes in the sky before tumbling down like the steady flow of a waterfall onto a reed bed. Amazing.

But when that finished I flicked through the channels and there didn’t appear much else on so I gave The F Word another go, and it wasn’t too bad actually. Giles Coren’s look at how donner kebabs were made in a factory was quite interesting, and while it proved what a fatty and unhealthy product it is, at least the meat used looked to be of a decent quality, free of lips, lugs and spinal cord. It was also amusing when Ramsey challenged comedian Al Murray to see who could make the best bread and butter pudding. Ramsey was tedious, referring to Murray’s dish as a stale egg sandwich; not once but about 18 times as he clearly didn’t have the imagination to think of another insult. But then, when it came to a blind taste test, the judges’ unanimous verdict was that Murray’s pud was better than Ramsey’s soggy effort. Ha ha.

I don’t think I will bother watching The F Word again. Like Ramsey I don’t have an interest in celebrity, which is why I was puzzled when he was seen schmoozing with guests Martine McCutcheon and Sun columnist Jane Moore (Martine wasn’t too keen on the bread and butter pudding, she said, because she doesn’t like raisons; although when she later revealed that she doesn’t eat dairy or bread it became clear the dish was probably her idea of hell). His campaign to get women cooking again seemed a weak attempt to hang onto Jamie Oliver’s coat tails by being a cook with a cause, and there was a ludicrous part of the show where he picked the people for the blind tasting panel. Each guest was blindfolded and had to taste a variety of foods; those who correctly judged which food was which were considered the people with the finest palettes and joined the panel. The problem lay with the foods the guests were tested on; if you have never eaten salmon caviar before, or mozzarella with basil, then you are unlikely to be able to tell what they taste like; it doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion or cannot tell good food from bad. This is another thing that gets on my tits about Ramsey, that he likes to portray himself as a no nonsense, down to earth man of the people; yet all the while he can be as snobbish and pretentious about food as anybody and charges prices at his restaurants that only a small sector of the population can routinely afford.

In all, though, for me The F Word suffers by comparison with Full On Food, of which it seems a poor imitation. Full On Food was a cracking programme which, like The F Word, was a cookery magazine show with a studio audience; it had some fascinating and informative items from the resident presenters (I particularly remember a moving film from a vegetarian food critic trying meat for the first time in ten years) and even featured a minor celebrity cooking a dish in the studio each week. If you haven’t heard of Full On Food then it may be because unlike The F Word it didn’t also feature a minor celebrity audience, minor celebrity presenter and minor celebrity chef; something you would think that Gordon Ramsey himself would approve of.

Ad Hoc

The other day I watched a programme on ITV2 as part of their 50th anniversary celebrations. This one listed the best 20 adverts in the history of ITV, and it was okay. In common with all “list” programmes it had its fault, and in particular this programme shared similar flaws with a Channel 4 programme from a few years back called The Hundred Best Adverts Ever, Ever, Ever, or something similar.

I don’t just mean that they picked adverts I don’t like – that is bound to happen with a subjective list – but that they restricted each product to one advert only. So, Guinness, which has always had brilliant adverts, gets represented solely by that “horses and surfers, tick-followed-tock” one; a fine advert to be sure, but is seems a shame that other commercials in their canon never seem to get considered.

Tango is another brand that has a fine history in producing quality adverts, but again suffers because only the original “orange bloke slapping someone on the chops” advert seems to be included on these programmes. In fact, the greatest advert of all time is for Tango; but it isn’t for orange flavour, or even apple flavour. No, the best television commercial ever was when Tango advertised their blackcurrant flavour, for the one and only time.

I know there are more important things going on in the world, but I think it is an injustice that this genius of an advert has been consistently overlooked; but no longer. Inspired by the ITV programme I typed something along the lines of “blackcurrant tango advert” into Google and came up with this gem of a site where you can watch this little masterpiece again and again in all its glory; and a load of other adverts while you’re are at it.

Watch it, and just see if I’m not right.

A Cross Post

(cross posted at Biased BBC)

Not content with sometimes showing Muslims in a fair light, rather than portraying every last one of them as the evil jihadists we know them to be, the BBC has now decided to try to rehabilitate the failed doctrine of communism; and what’s more, to target pre-school children in their despicable plan.

How else can you explain the new segment Summerton Mill in the children’s programme Tikkabilla? For there, in an animated feature that purports to be a simple tale of rural nostalgia, you will find a cat, called Mao Tse-tung! This character is depicted as a sleepy and somewhat benign figure; a far cry from the former ruler of communist China, responsible for the Cultural Revolution and complicit in the deaths of millions through famine. Furthermore, is it any coincidence that the cow in the show is called Francois? Named after Francois Mitterand, former socialist president of France, no doubt. I have yet to work out a leftist connection for the main character of Dan, or the dog Fluffer, but I’ll bet they’re there somewhere, and given a few hours spent in my darkened room in a twisted rage I will come up with something.

It must all seem so very amusing to the metropolitan Marxists in their ivory towers at Broadcasting House, as they plot new ways to indoctrinate our youth and spread their pervasive plans for a communist international. Realising that they have been thwarted time and again by the keen eyes of Biased BBC as we battle their worldview across the adult media, they have decided to switch tactics and get at our children. Who was it said “give me the child at two and by screening BBC propaganda I will show you a communist as an adult”? Actually, I’m not sure anyone has ever said that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Well tough, BBC, because we have spotted your game, and we will fight. And win!

To make matters worse, Summerton Mill appears to have replaced Bonny, Banana and Mo, which was my bestest, most favourite part of Tikkabilla. Just what do I pay my license fee for?* In fact if I wasn’t secretly in love with presenter Sarah-Jane Honeywell I wouldn’t bother watching Tikkabilla at all anymore.

* I don’t actually pay my license fee, being so old and curmudgeonly that I get one for free, but if I did have to pay then I wouldn’t anyway, as a protest against the Biased Broadcasting Corporation and their unfair telly-tax, which you have to pay regardless of whether you watch the BBC or not, although I do, a lot. But you get my point.

Update 26/9/05: A big thank you to whoever nominated this post for inclusion in Tim Worstall’s latest BritBlog Round-Up. It is nice to know that I struck a cord (chord?) with someone, and that there are others out there equally frustrated by the BBC’s one-eyed prejudice!