Modern life is rubbish.

Society is hard. I'm using society as a verb, not a noun or an adjective as I genuinely feel it's a doing word. I did attempt to conjugate the verb societing or societe, as in “quick everyone- societe now!” and we would all conform to the mundane bullshit game we play everyday, just so everyone else thinks we are getting by, even though in their heads they are just as depressed and fed up of it all as you. So I use society as a verb, it means to conform to the imposed pretending in your head. Try it, it works,

“What are you doing today?”
“I'm society”

O.k, maybe it doesn't. But my point remains. It's hard just existing, simply getting from the moment you wake up and coming full circle to go to sleep is an achievement. Which is why I can't understand people who actually want babies! How can you be so confident in your ability to be a person that, not only do you feel you've mastered the art of being a functioning member of society, but you can actually teach other people to be one? It's astounding to me. When ever I go out and attempt to society it's a futile and laborious attempt at co-existing with other human beings that invariably ends with me curled in foetal position humming the theme tune to gummi bears at the back of a bus. People should take more care when having children- some people seem to put less thought into the decision to procreate, than I do over what breakfast cereal to eat. Living is hard, trust me I've tried I've failed. We shouldn't subject this onto infantile beings unless we have actual physical barometers of success at society, like butlers and jet ski's. Spiritual success won't cut it I'm afraid, you may have reached the spiritual plateau of nirvana, but it's still not as good as a wii, and you know it. The only hope for us all now is we, as a nation, collectively give up and allow ourselves to be adopted by Angelina Jolie and live in her rainbow house of joy while she farts sunshine. That or you could join me at the back of the bus.

The Alan Sugababes

The Sugababes are back, except they're not. But they are. If you hadn't heard the Sugababes have gone and sacked founding member Keisha Buchanan. “That's not unusual” I hear you cry, “the Sugababes always replace members” well, yes. But this time it's different; Keisha was the only original member left in the band she formed, over ten years ago, with Mutya and some other girl no one really remembers, but she wasn't Heidi, which matters all of a sudden. This is brilliant because it has opened up all manner of debate over the authenticity of pop music, and has seen some brilliant hand wringing from muso types harping on how music has 'no soul' and that as it was Keisha's band they should quit- The Sugababes have become a soulless corporate production with an endless treadmill of desperate wannabes, kind of like The Apprentice. I don't agree with any of this. I think it's ace. Pop music has never been authentic – Pat Boon sang Little Richard records and Elvis had blonde hair! All that's happened is that 3 reasonably pretty girls with nice voices have replaced three less reasonably pretty girls with nice voices, it's not the end of the world. It's only a name, if Mika was Mika by any other name would he still be as shit? Yes. Names are meaningless, and the fact they have kept the Sugabaes name only means it will be much easier to search for any new songs they produce on Spotify. Far from being the final corporate nail in the music industry, I think we should embrace this as the next evolution in how the public digests music. For instance, there's too many bands as there is, who can really tell the difference between Fall Out Boy and Panic at the Disco? No one, not even their mums. We should turn music into a league based competition like football. Each Genre of music should have a league table with 12 bands who then go head to head over a season with results based on downloads and sales and number of tracks released, this way everyone gets to keep up with music as it's the same bands, there's far less copycat acts producing mindless disco-pap and music becomes generally interesting again as you support your band over everyone elses. You could even introduce transfer windows- imagine in the off season: “Following the disappointment of their last Album U2 have signed Jay Z! Or: “In an effort to combat accusations that their play is boring Coldplay have signed funk master Prince!” It would be awesome,and you know it. And we should thank the Sugababes, whatever Jayne, Deborah and Mary make them up.

Michael Jackson R.I.P 1958 - 2009

The King of Pop has passed away; long live Prince. I was going to write something cutting, acerbic and a bit silly about Michael Jackson's passing, but decided against it as google's search engines are quite powerful and I don't want people to hunt me down and murder me, only for my family find my naked, dead body in lake with one white glove stuck to my chest. The fact is like most people my age Michael's music (his MUSIC) touched me- in a good way, obviously. The first song I ever really loved was bad, and one of my earliest memories is watching the video for Black or White on MTV and being amazed at the face morphing on display. And the bit at the end where everyone changes into another person was quite good as well. You can't judge Michael Jackson's cultural significance through any one measure alone, he was a cultural phenomenon the likes we will never see again. The only way any death could match the scal of this is if Coca-Cola or Mickey Mouse were to somehow die, and even then it wouldn't be too bad as we'd still have Pepsi and Spongebob(which, in many ways, are better). But Michael leaves behind noone: A whole host of imitators, but no equal. Every facet of entertainment that Michael turned his hand to he excelled in: Music, Videos, stage shows. He revolutionised the way music was marketed and sold, the Thriller album alone had 7 singles, which meant from them on artists couldn't rely on filler to beef up their albums as people now expected more. Rolling Stone described his as a "One man rescue mission for the music industry" and they weren't far wrong. The only entertainment venture he failed in was Theme Park construction as, from what I can gather, Neverland was a bit shit, but we'll forgive him that. There will obviously be conroversy around his death as there was in his life, and public opinion will be divided over the majesty of his professional life compared to the shambles of his personal life. Michael Jackson was an enigma, a more superficial construct than any of the characters from his videos, but therein lied part of his appeal. He was otherwordly- etheral, even. While many of his contempories- Bobby Brown, Prince e.t.c- were deeply flawed human beings Michael Jackson, at times, didn't seem human and maybe that's how we should remember him, as an entertainer. He was Elvis, Fred Astair and Bono rolled in to one, and at least twenty times more exciting than that sounds, so whatever your feelings toward him as a person, and remeber you didn't know him personally, just remember him for what he gave you. And even if that was merely shaking your head over the latest Wacko Jacko story in the newspaper, then that's still more than a hundred Justin Timberlakes or Ushers will ever give you.

The world has turned and left me here.

The world has changed a lot in the last few weeks. The rank hypocrisy of the parliamentary system in this country has been exposed, the speaker of the house Michael Martin is about to resign, Jordan and Peter Andre have split up. Clearly, we're going to the dogs. The little public trust that was left in parliament, has gone. The fact is removing Michael Martin is an arbitrary step in restoring public confidence in the system- the damage has already been done. The way MP's were able to abuse the system of allowances so blatantly and then the way the body of representatives allowed this – no doubt as they were busy trying to justify a moat on their own expense accounts, means that any goodwill and, ironically, allowances that the public would have made for parliament is now history. So how do they restore public faith in the house of commons? This wont be easy as, like most of the British public, I wasn't interested in the state of their expense accounts until I learned they were abusing them. Instantly, the House of Commons became 1 million percent more interesting. The key to making the public trust someone is to make them interested in it, and once the accounts scandal gets boring again no one will give a shit, so how do we make the house of commons interesting? There is only one answer-Simon Cowell. Simon Cowell is an idiot, he routinely makes bad decisions and talks out of his backside but people are interested in what he has to say and as such his opinions are genuinely regarded as trustworthy. We need to Simon Cowell the shit out of parliament. Replace the speaker with someone partisan and objective – say Jeremy Kyle, and who wouldn't like to have seen the House of Commons this week with Kyle in Gordon Browns face screaming at him to 'be a man',or better yet- replace him with a puppet. Don't tell me you wouldn't find politics much more interesting if the whole thing was presided over by Emo from Seasame Street, because you would. It would be brilliant you could have Stadler and Waldorf sitting on a Balcony making obtuse statements like most of the backbenchers do anyway. And instead of debating issues, the MP's should be made to take Bush tucker trials (Which would be brilliant as we could see them all ingesting testicles, as opposed to speaking them for a change). The MP's should be made to wear garish suits in their parties colours, red for Labour, blue for the Conservatives, erm..pink for the Lib Dems. And finally, we need to incorporate a public vote so the least popular MP that week is voted out of the house like in Big Brother, except instead of Davina McCall, it's Jeremy Paxman waiting for them with a long list of their expenses and a big grin. With public interest back on track, people will start to trust Gordon Brown again because 'He was a good sport when he ate that Kangaroo's anus last week' and David Cameron will get Kudos for sticking his head in a cage full of rats (or sitting with the Tory backbenchers, as it's currently called) And democracy in this country will be either be saved or Susan Boyle will be our next Prime Minister, which, let's be honest, would be an improvement. Thank god for Simon Cowell, eh?

It's me- The movie!

I've always wondered who would play me in a film of my life, and, on more than one occasion, lost sleep over the conundrum. Well, I shall fear no more as Andy Samberg and the Lonely Island Crew have stepped up to the plate! It's worrying that I identify so much with the lyrics to their humble tale of hormonal dysfunction, but then again I do spend a lot of time on the internet. So here is Andy Samberg with a cautionary tale not just for men, but for women too. And remember single ladies if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it. So, in a way, it's your fault.

Stewart Lee's comedy vehicle is, not so much a Porsche, but more a reliable Volkswagen.

Stewart Lee has returned to T.V. This is a good thing. Stand up doesn't have a prominent place on terrestrial schedules anymore, which is a shame as most peoples experience of stand up comedians now come from Mock the Week, and if Andy Parsosn is your first introduction to the art form, that's probably enough to put you off comedy for life. It's quite a surprise to see the BBC give Stewart Lee such a prominent slot, especially considering the conservative nature of their scheduling following the Ross/Brand affair, and especially baffling when you realise that Lee is the man behind Jerry Springer the Opera. Still, one mustn't quibble, it's a brave decision by the BBC and that must be applauded. The show itself is a bit hit and miss, at times Lee can be very funny, but all too often he lapses into self indulgence, basically if you're a fan of Lee's you will like this show, if not you're unlikely to be won over, which is, probably, just the way Lee would like it. The show starts well, with a spot-on deconstruction of Chris Moyles latest opus and a withering dismissal of Russell Brand's "My Booky Wook", which is doubly pleasing as Lee seems to be the only comedian not kissing his skinny jean clad arse. The opening of the show is undoubtedly the strongest segment as the rest of Lee's set is a bit too smug and self satisfied. It's strange to see that, for a comedian so lauded, his style has not developed at all in the ten years he's been away. Lee is still guilty of confusing pretension for intellectualism, and seems of the believe that merely name dropping authors is proof of his own superior intellect. At one point he sneers "I've read the complete works of the poet and visionary William Blake" while dismissing every Harry Potter book, I'm sure there are thousands of people who enjoy both Blake and Rowling, so to dismiss everyone who has read Harry Potter as a neanderthal is a bit short sighted. You could also pick out a simple sentence from Blake, as Lee does with Dan Brown to prove his inadequacies as a writer, and make it sound weak, as quoting anything devoid of context can make it sound contrite, but this doesn't bother Lee, and in doing so makes his criticisms of Brown simply sound bitter. Theres also a weird bit about rappers that goes nowhere and almost completely kills the mid section of the set, with Lee's deadpan, deliberate delivery more of a hindrance than a help, and the lack of pacing, and the general weakness of the joke, see the segment fall completely flat. There is a lot to admire about Lee as a stand up comedian and he is clearly very intelligent and erudite man, who is also very witty, but for all the good points of the set, Lee's snobbish delivery and desperate need to prove how clever he is, will be off putting for some. Although one question persists, for a man so clever, why can't he buy a suit that fits?

Two pints of Lager, and an almighty number of painkillers please.

The other day I saw The Two Pints of Lager, Grownups and Coming of Age comic relief special. It was not good; although, it was probably as good as that sentence suggests. I know it's for charity but, surely, Africa isn't that hungry that they would wish this inflicted upon the British Public? We've already sat through enough Little Britain sketches, what more could they want? We've had to witness the indignity of Davina McCall dancing to FloRida!(and looking not unlike Barbara Castle experiencing a particularly potent crystal meth trip)Isn't that enough? She's 41 for fucks sake! And on top of that FloRioda is shit, so I'm not sure who she was trying to impress, but it certainly wasn't me. I'm sure if they allowed the Beneficiaries of Comic Relief to vet some of the sketches, most would sent back for making a mockery of their starvation. Also Comic Relief has been going for, like, a million years, and from what I can gather after watching the numerous appeals, is that it's done fuck all. Maybe we need a more effective method of giving aid, one that doesn't clog up the viewing schedule with Davina McCall. It's a thought. Anyway, I digress, The Two Pints special brought together the casts of 3 of BBC 3's premier comedy series, which most people probably didn't realise were different shows anyway, as the sets characters acting and scripts are all pretty much interchangeable. I think this whole exercise was designed just to inform people but they were separate shows as it is really difficult to tell which one you're watching and, just to confuse you further, two of them even have the same actress playing almost identical characters. The show starts with Janet (Sheridan Smith) getting excited about the local pub's comic relief fun night of fun, Gaz (Will Mellor) interjects that it won be as fun as "Gaz Wilkinson's fun night of bum"(snort) with the kind of comic timing you'd expect from someone who used to be in Hollyoaks. And there, was the shows high point. Soon everyone is lined up in the pub and we are informed that they represent a sizable proportion of BBC 3's 16 - 34 demographic, but then so do doggers, so it's not that impressive. Most of the jokes revolve around Sheridan Smith's (admittedly impressive) rack, with the characters constantly pointing out, over and over again, that she is rather well endowed. Now far be it from me to complain about people extolling the virtues of our fairer halves assets, indeed, when they are as impressive as Miss Smith's sweater bunnies I actively encourage it, but she was in The Royale Family, and performs regularly on the West End. The rest of the show is based on a fairly loose premises set around the pub quiz, with various rounds such as the bitch off and flirt off. I've never been to a pub quiz with rounds such as these and usually only have to tackle boring subjects such as general knowledge and films, but then I've never been to fictional pub in Runcorn, that combines three hugely unrealistic sitcoms. The various characters take part in the different rounds, although most of the characters are little more than glorified extras. The show ends with a song entitled "Stop thinking, start drinking" Which is good advice, although one wonders whether it may have been far more useful if placed at the beginning of the show. It's quite disconcerting when the creators of a show freely admit should be pissed to enjoy it, but in this case it's quite apt. And anyway, it's far more dignified to blame the disintegration of your brain cells on excessive drinking rather than watching this.

Skincest.

The new series of skins has started. Hooray. However, I decided to give it two weeks before throwing my opinion of it over the web, as, in true skins style, the opening episode is not really an episode, but more of an extended trailer, introducing the characters and brief snippets of their personalities that tantalisingly hint at the shenanigans we should be in for in the coming weeks.
We start episode 2 with the focus on Cook, the fun loving loudmouth who, at first glance, appears to be a chav version of Chris from the first two seasons. There’s a fairly obvious play on words you can form from his name: one that, no doubt, is in use on many Internet forums as we speak. Suffice to say, over the course of the episode Cook proves this nickname to be entirely accurate.
I posted last week that Skins series 3 would take one of two directions, and, unfortunately, it appears that Skins has decided not to bother itself with silly things like narrative and character, instead concentrating on fitting as many scenes that would look cool on youtube into one episode as possible, in the vain hope that viewers will send said clips to each other taking multi platform viewing to it’s inevitable moronic conclusion. Take Cook: When we first meet him he is, undeniably, a bellend. This is no bad thing, some of the finest characters in TV history are bellends; indeed, it would take a fool to argue that Tony series 1 was anything but. However, rather than reveal layers to the character, or to ground him through, if not situations, but at least actions that are believable, he simply acts like an even bigger bellend than you initially thought. The characterisation across the board is uniformly weak and the whole thing plays out like the Bash Street Kids have found their fathers secret stash- although nowhere near as entertaining as that sounds.
The dip in quality from, not just the first series, but the (poor) second series is noticeable. I can’t blame the actors who, for such a young group, do a fine job with what they are given. And the direction, as always with skins, is excellent, if a little too frenetically paced for my tastes. The problem lies with the script, which was truly dreadful. Not only did the dialogue lack all of the wit and candour of previous Skins episodes, but the episode must also rank as the least believable hour of fiction I’ve seen on T.V. And I’m including Seasame Street, Back to the Future and that episode of the news where O.J. got acquitted in that list. Nothing believable happened. Not once. For starters Cook was still alive at the end of the episode. He would have at least, received a harder beating from the supposed gangsters led by McKenzie Crook (I kid you not) Despite only being 17, Cook was not only able to take enough cocaine and drink enough alcohol to Kill Pete Doherty several times over, but then walk around sober as a judge, visit a brothel, punch a gangster, and maintain an erection! I know you’re at your sexual peek at that age, but the sight of McKenzie Crook spread eagle on a sexual torture rack would be enough to tip anyone over the edge. It was as if the writers simply wanked all their pre-pubescent fantasies of what being a teenager would be over the page, then handed it in to be filmed. Skins seems to be eschewing the larger audience it gained through knowing scripts and clever dialogue, and concentrating on the audience of 13-15 year olds who will live vicariously through its characters. I’m honest enough to admit that, when I was 14, skins would have appealed to me enormously; the idea of kids, only slightly older than me, living seemingly adult lives, but with no responsibilities, worries or recriminations, and only a lifetime orgy of sex and excess to contend themselves with, would have been enormously attractive. And I imagine it would be for today’s teenagers, if it wasn’t so insulting to their intelligence. Skins seems to be playing to a mythical audience of idiots, who only get excited when they see either a.) drugs b.) drink or c.) sex on the screen. The old skins would have been aware of this and played on these preconceptions. Unfortunately, any sense of self-reference and irreverence has been lost in order so Skins can appear to stay edgy and cool. Skins has been many things before but it’s never been stupid. Until now.

Shedding Skins.

The new series of Skins starts tonight and I await in a state of what can only be described as: apathy. It's not that I dislike Skins- quite the reverse in fact; I thought the first series of Skins was a brilliantly subversive drama and the finest piece of television aimed at Teenagers this century. It's just the second series was, well, awful. It really, really was. Where the first series took every cliche of "yoof" T.V and turned them on their heads, the second series reinforced every doubt and fear you had of what an E4 teenage drama would be, it was like As If all over again. The second series of Skins was, simply, dreadful. Where the first series managed to skillfully craft rounded, three-dimensional characters that took teen stereotypes and turned them on their head (quite literally in Tony's case), the second series took those characters and stripped them down into vapid, boring assortments of quirks and one-liners. The Series started to believe it's own hype and concentrated more on appearing edgy and cool and creating 'water cooler moments' for the playground (I'm not sure what the playground equivalent of a water cooler is these days, but, using Skins as my example, I assume it's some effortlessly cool Serbian drug dealer, whom the kids all gather around at break time to buy their mid-day Heroin kicks that they can all inexplicably afford in between their twice weekly flights to New York, all done without their parents even noticing.) I know the first Series had this problem to, but even at its most ridiculous and far fetched (Russia anyone?) the series was wonderfully grounded by the believable and human characters that elicited emotion and humour from the stories. By the second series they were less believable than the plot-lines, and had all become so horrible that the only like-able character left was Chris, who achieved this simply through the virtue of being dead. The promos for the new series don't fill me with hope, with the pikey looking cast seemingly even younger than the first lot, and a truly terrible promo- where said pikeys blow up a pub, Suggesting that Skins 3.0 is going to be reaching for the ever more niche teen audience rather than allowing itself to be an enjoyably guilty pleasure for people over the age of 16 like it used to be. Still, I'll be watching, even if it's just to marvel peculiar fashion sense of trendy London types that permeate society, and wondering just how long I'd last in a school where everyone looks like Nick Grimshaw.