Grumbles on the Sofa and Other Public Posts

It occurs to me as I read some of the nastier comments on last Friday’s Comic Relief that what we’re doing on these sites is basically overhearing people’s comments on the sofa.  It’s like The Royle Family or, going further back, Till Death us do Part, only in real life (if you don’t know what TDUDP is you can probably find it on wikipedia but they’ll never show any episodes on TV again.  Here’s a few clips which I hope don’t include some of his worst excesses; it seems like there’s a reference to Jimmy Savile in the first one.  Oh, and you might recognise Una Stubbs as Mrs Hudson.  But I digress.  The point is that Twitter et al is like listening to everyone’s sofa comments,  stuff that before the internet would have been private.

It beats me how people can be nasty about Comic Relief anyway.  It seems to me an intelligent and entirely worthwhile effort to raise money while producing entertainment.  I particularly enjoyed the ‘Four Weddings’ reunion; the ‘Only Fools and Horses’ bit was excellent and the University Challenge episode entertaining.  The comedy sits comfortably beside the films and the whole thing avoids the schmaltz which would otherwise make it unbearable.  And besides, they raised a phenomenal amount – more than 63 MILLION.  It’s unreal.

Here’s  the whole programme

And here’s the Four Weddings thing.  See how many characters you can spot.

Kirk out

BBC, BBC and Unexpected Wine

It’s about time I posted a biographical-type entry rather than bombarding you with short stories, so let’s see – what’s been happening?  Since Sunday I’ve been busy working as per usual and preparing some comic poems for Red Nose Day in case some emergency comic poetry is required.  I might get to do one at Sound Cafe today, though there hasn’t been as much time for poetry lately as there was before.  Anyway, the comic poems include ‘Ode to the Upperton Rd Bridge’, which is a William McGonagall parody; a series of limericks about D H Lawrence (yes, I know); a poem about getting older which is a dialogue between self and mirror, and another series of limericks called ‘On Not Speaking a Scandinavian Language.’  I went through a real limerick phase a few years ago and I couldn’t stop writing them – I must have at least half a dozen series of limericks on various subjects.

So if you know of any Comic Relief events which would benefit from poetry please let me know.

Spat of the week award – as well as prat of the week award – goes to none other than Jeremy Clarkson.  I wouldn’t watch Top Gear if it was the last programme on TV, but I can understand the appeal of someone who tells it like it is.  The appeal diminishes greatly though according to the views they express; so that, say, Russell Brand would be more attractive to someone on the left (although I don’t like him) while Clarkson caters for the disaffected to the right.  However he loses credibility when he makes racist comments and (allegedly) throws a punch at his producer.  So I am on the side of the BBC here (British Broadcasting Corporation) and not that of the BBC (Bring Back Clarkson).


In other – though perhaps not unrelated – news, last night I ventured out of my comfort zone into what was until recently the local Conservative Club.  They have widened the membership now and it is no longer exclusive to Tories – my reason for going was not, however, to experience the new ambience but to scope the place out for an Artbeat quiz.  Five of us nervous left-leaning Liberal pinkoes gathered apprehensively in the bar – but we need not have worried.  The clientele were welcoming and friendly, the quiz was great fun and contrary to our expectations we ended up winning!  Normally I’m crap at pub quizzes because they seem to feature a kind of general knowledge which has passed me by, such as the names of arcane soap opera characters or who sang the song which kept ‘Frankie Goes to Hollywood’ off the No 1 spot with ‘Relax’.  Actually I know that one – do you?  But between us we managed to sweep the board and to get a clear round in the literature section – which, since most of us were in the Literature Tranche* of Artbeat, would have been humiliating had we not done so.

The prize turned out to be a bottle of wine – not just one bottle to share, but one each!  So I did pretty well out of the evening, especially since people bought me drinks.

The best quiz question was about Beatles songs.  The clue was a list of things starting with Triumph – I can’t remember what the others were – and I guessed that they were varieties of strawberry, hence ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’  I was very proud of that one..

Kirk out

*if tranche is the word I want, which it probably isn’t

The Divine Atkinson

Finally caught up with the full Archbishop vid yesterday.  Apparently the fuss was over him using the word ‘shag’ before the watershed, and it wasn’t the C of E who complained, but members of the public.  So now we know.  And what did I think of it?  Well, normally I think Atkinson is God: in comedic terms, there is nothing he can’t do.  However this was perhaps not his finest hour; a tad vitriolic, I thought – but still, offensive?


Here it is:

On the plus side, I watched the edited highlights of Comic Relief and donated a few quid, enough for a mosquito net, or so I’m told.  So that’s something.  You can donate here:

I hate taking steroids.  I haven’t taken any for decades and would have wished to avoid it now, but when leaving one room and entering another leaves you short of breath – well, needs must.  But last night I couldn’t sleep; I feel continually hungry and I’m sure I got angrier with Holly last night than I would otherwise have done – and I’m fairly certain these are all side-effects of the dreaded S.


Quite apart from Comic Relief, the weather is having a laugh.  No-one else is finding it funny, but I’m sure there has to be a poem in there somewhere.  Daniel wrote a poem at college yesterday; I thought it was pretty good.  I don’t have permission to put it on here but I’ll ask.

Sorry it’s a short post this morning.  I’m not really myself at the moment.

Kirk out

Archbishop Rowan Who?

OK listen up – you’d better read this quick ‘cos I’m typing fast before the video disappears.  For some reason it is getting increasingly hard to find the clip of Rowan Williams taking the piss out of the Archbish of Cant. on Comic Relief.  Here’s the only clip I could find, so watch it now before some numpty deletes it:

Apparently lots of people have been offended by this and the BBC has caved in to complaints and deleted it from the iplayer.  Now, hang on a minute!  I know the clip contains the word ‘shag’ and it’s not exactly affectionate towards the Archbish, but to react like that is not very Church-of-Englandy is it?  I mean, you expect outrage from the Catholic Church or from the Mormons or from the Westboro Baptist Church – but the C of E?  Surely the usual form is to give a weak laugh and say, ‘Oh, I don’t like it personally but I’m sure some people will find it funny,’ or some such pronouncement.  Yes, I know it’s a little lame but I kinda like it.  I don’t think the Beeb should have caved quite so quickly but whether people were right to be offended I can’t tell, since all that’s available is a part of the monologue and I would quite like to make my own mind up, please.

If anyone has a better link please post it in a comment.

In other news, I am now on a cocktail of drugs.  Much to my disgust I have had to cave in and visit the doc, who, having measured my peak flow, promptly prescribed a mix of steroids and asteroids – no, wait – steroids and antibiotics – and told me to call 999 if I couldn’t finish a sentence.  I may have a problem unless someone can finish this sentence for me…

‘The BBC have deleted Rowan Atkinson’s skit on the Archbishop of Canterbury because…’

Quick!  My hand is already picking up the receiver!

Kirk out