The Mild Gourmets

Once again work and Internet access conspired to throw a spanner in the creative works last week, meaning a delay in that rarest of creatures – a timely Sunday dispatch. However, as nothing is ever my fault, and no-one but me cares anyway, I’ve won’t bang on about this time, instead getting straight down to the nitty gritty.

Last week The Wild Gourmet’s flopped onto the screen like a used condom tossed casually aside in a grotty bedsit. Taking the current unfathomable foraging and freeganism craze to the nth degree, The Wild Gourmet’s saw well-heeled London-types Male Gourmet and Female Gourmet start their epic mission around Britain to “find it, kill it, cook it and eat it.” Not a bad premise, for a show, but when these two got going they made Indian Food Made Easy look like Escoffier.

Driving around Britain in their vegetable oil powered car, the duo hit Cornwall first, much to the bemusement of the local peasants. Male gourmet took us through his inventory of weapons first, telling us he always carried three kinds of knives, a shotgun, and at least two axes, before stalking off to engage in the supremely manly task of spearing a motionless flatfish in a stream.

Meanwhile back at camp, female gourmet endeared viewers with her squeamishness when putting a snail on a hook, protesting “I’ve never killed anything before!” Although she failed to catch anything, her killing confidence certainly got a boost, as we see her negotiating the slaughter of fourteen rabbits in exchange for a basket of fruit from a farmer later in the episode.

Having also failed the fishing expedition, male gourmet (with a severely dented ego) and female gourmet skipped off into the woods to forage their supper. Coming across some big mushrooms by a tree, the pair over-compensated their earlier losses and acted like they just hit the jackpot. Male gourmet seized on the opportunity to rebuild his bruised masculinity by referring to the mushrooms in meat-like terms, enthusing that they were “just like steaks” and that he was a man after all because picking a mushroom is much like killing an animal. Female gourmet used her bargaining skills to trade the mushrooms for some eggs and milk at a farm shop so that they could eat that night. There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that if the cameras weren’t there, they would have been told to fuck off.

There was one redeemable feature in this episode however: When hunting wood pigeon a farmer produced an innovative and macabre device for attracting birds, which involved sliding two dead birds onto poles protruding from a wheel. By dint of human ingenuity and some Frankenstein man against nature themes, when the wheel turned the two corpses flapped their wings.

I am sure there is a metaphor in their somewhere…

Last week I also returned to Heroes, consuming a three-episode value meal in one sitting. Having practically bummed (I’ve been watching Nathan Barley) this series in an earlier entry, I was a little worried that I would return to find it a bit of a let down, and therefore loose all my TV credibility.

Fortunately I was not disappointed, as Heroes proved to be the crack-cocaine TV I thought it was. David Byrne look-alike bad dad is still confusing us with his bad/good dynamic, “The cheerleader” is still managing to attend practice at least once a day, (and never get changed afterwards) and the professional romantic sap is still irritating his political candidate brother with his “saving the world” speil.

Armed with a faster internet connection and www.tv-links.co.uk, it’s never been easier to score, and I’m in danger of developing a serious habit.

Fortnight foul up

A few particularly nasty hangovers and long working hours conspired last week to knock my writing out of sync, so this will be my first TV round-up in a fortnight. I feel bad for letting it slip and i would like to take this opportunity to apologise to both of the people who read this blog.

While incapacitiated i did manage to fix at least one bloodshot eye on the dream screen at various points over the two weeks however, and with my mind never far away from the mealstrom of faux indignition and excessive italics that is TV Casualty, I made some quick-deposits in the memory banks and wrote a few post-dated critical cheques.

Nigella Express hit the screen last week as the food seductress clambered in and out of taxi's, entertained friends and did some important looking work, all while planning what to have for supper that evening (a generic term which seemed to mean anything from a full blown meal with family to pudding in bed, the nuances of which presumably only the seriously well heeled can discern.)

Week One's menu included crispy calimari and some sort of pudding, all made with mountains of butter, sugar, fat, and the decadent abandon Nigella has traded on throughout her career. In this series we have been invited into her swank London pad, (metaphorically of course) to see how lazily and easily we too can whip up spectacular food while labouring under the demands of Modern Life.

While i admire Nigella's "I'm not prepared to sacrifice one meal" philosophy and her aversion to the Cook yourself thin mob, I thought the show didn't really measure up in the cooking, where it mattered the most. The food looked inviting, but in the process Nigella doesn't really impart any transferable knowledge, rather demonstrating a sort of Cook by Numbers approach and focusing more on the inordinate pleasure she seems to take from sampling her own creations. This programme made me hungry, but it didn't particularly make me want to cook.

Another new arrival to TV land last week was the return of Kath & Kim, the Aussie fem-fest chick-com so beloved of my own dear Duchess. Focusing on the bogan-ey antics of the mother and daughter of the title, the fifth (?) series features a new addition to the cast as baby Eppony-Ray enters the fray.

The first episode cranks up the comedy potential as Kim's no-good dad returns onto the scene and ends up conning his guileless daughter out of several thousand dollars, causing her and put upon husband Brett to move into the Day-Knight love nest, making for overcrowding and ensuing hilarity.

Opinions on this show are divided (usually along gender lines) but i generally find Kath & Kim to be watchable, if a bit hit and miss. The posh shop assistants at Fountaingate are about as funny as cancer, and you get the sense that some of the jokes are a bit too laboured when a more subtle approach would have done the job better. Despite this, Kath & Kim boasts some good characters, and the Australian Suburban Limbo in which it is set provides a good backdrop with plenty of comic mileage.

Considering i live with an obsessive, Kath & Kim is going to be an unavoidable part of my life for some time, and thats not a bad thing at all.

Will he or won't he?

Despite mainstream press speculation being uncharacteristically low key regarding the prospect of an October election, The Iron Fist has yet to rule one out, and there have been some interesting movements that suggest that Old Gordy isn't quite ready to show all his cards yet.

His appearence on the front page of the Guardian alongside Lady Thather on Thursday, days after telling the TUC to go fuck itself with regards to pay rises for the public sector, for example, suggests a serious play for the those vulnerable voters on the rebound from Cameron and craving stability. Add to this his "British jobs for British workers" speil and you have someone who is making all the right noises to capitalise on a still fragmented Tory party.

Similarily, his slight to the TUC speaks volumes in terms of timing. It would be a foolish move to start alienating the Union's so early on in his premiership if it didn't mean some immediate political capital. As it stands, he has appealed to the right while managing not to offend the Union's too much, or at least too repeatedly, so he can still claim to be one of the old boys when it comes to election time and make up the ground after he secures his mandate.

The other parties are also making some serious preperations, with the hiring of millionaire brat and PR dreamboat Zac Goldsmith as environment tsar (why is it always rich people who want to save the planet so much?) by the Tories and the release of some eye-catching policies by the Lib Dems suggesting no-one has dismissed the possibility of an Autumn fight just yet.

In the coming weeks, Brown will no doubt have one cunning eye on the Polls and the other on the Party Conferences, and most likely even he won't know for sure until the moment arrives.

DNA OK?

I’m still buzzing from my glorious result on political compass and thought it was time to exercise some liberal outrage.

This week, my sights are set on Lord Judge Sedley, the noted “upholder of civil liberties on the bench” who caused a bit of a stir recently after claiming that the current DNA database was “indefensible” as it listed a higher proportion of ethnic minorities than whites. To remedy the situation, Sedley proposed, everyones DNA should go on file, which would not only redress the balance but would also mean there were less criminals on the street.

While Downing Street was quick to distance itself from Sedley’s comments, what has emerged is the extent to which current DNA collection procedures violate civil liberties, as well as Home Office plans to extend DNA collection to low-level offences such as speeding or littering. As the current database holds some 24,000 records of 10 – 17 year olds who have never been convicted of an offence, under the plans proposed it's not difficult to see the database, which currently holds around 5% of the UK population, expanding rapidly. What's more, it probably wouldn't be long until police started takind DNA samples at random checkpoints and from arbitrary searches, (no doubt under the guise of counterterrorism) none of which they would be obliged to destroy.

DNA identification is still very much in its infancy, but an enlarged database and more sophisticated methods of gathering samples could potentially be used to devasting effect, providing a unique profile of a persons movements and associations.

Combine this with ID Cards and CCTV Cameras and you have in place the apparatus of control Stalin would be envious of.

TV round up

My ability to come up with snappy TV-related titles for my weekly round up has apparently burnt out after a depressingly short period of time, meaning I have had to put my creative switch on standby, retune my rapier wit and generally fuck about with the aerial. However, there is apparently more to life than cheap puns on cheap punk songs, so without further delay, I’ll get going on this week’s TV round up.

This week, a fellow aficionado turned me on to Tribe, (Tuesday, BB2: 9pm) which involves “explorer” Bruce Parry travelling to some of the remotest parts of the planet to spend time with and learn about some of its most isolated people and their customs.

From the blurb this seemed like another boys-own adventure in the style of Donal MacIntyre’s recent Edge of Existence or BBC Macho-fest Last Man Standing, as Parry travels to Siberia to spend time with the Nenets, a tribe of Reindeer herders that follow the animals’ massive migration movements throughout the year, yet as the episode progressed it was clear that Parry offered a little more to what is otherwise often an ethically questionable genre.

Suited and booted in his winter gear, the episode began with Parry being helicoptered into the Nenet’s camp to meet his adoptive family and spend his first night inside his host’s reindeer-skin chum. Over tea that night the head of the family expressed his misgivings about Parry’s ability to adapt to their difficult way of life, a fear than was borne out over the course of the program as he immersed himself in their annual migration south.

Playing like a sort of “Cowboys of the Tundra,” Tribe offered a fascinating insight into the Nenet’s way of life, accompanied by some stunning Arctic photography and lightened by the presence of likable goof Parry (at one point he instigates a fashion parade as he shows off his new Nenet clothing to his companions.) The programme gave an idea of the harshness of the tribesmen’s life, but also of its uniqueness and the fundamental freedom it gave the Nenet’s, all of whom had houses in town and many who had left their professions to return to this way of life. The tribes apparent warmth and respect for Parry also cushioned what might otherwise have seemed like an an exploitative “call of the wild” adventure holiday, as did Parry’s willingness to chip into the workload whenever possible and frustration when he felt he was holding them back.

Most of the rest of the week cruised through without anything significant to report, the usual diet of News, Eastenders and repeats of Hells Kitchen featuring prominently, not to mention a two day TV sojurn caused by my own wilderness adventure. Until, that is, I was knocked sideways with little warning by the return of The Sopranos, with the first episode of the final nine on Sunday night.

My relationship with the Sopranos has been consistent in its respect and admiration but rockier in its diligence. Having shared in the family obsession with the series while at school, we grew distant when I went to Australia and the relationship floundered when I went to university, exacerbated by the move to E4. Chance encounters and the occasional attempt at reunion have dominated the years since making for a patchy knowledge with gaping holes, the last series being the first in a while that I watched with any sort of consistency.

Now however, with the final nine in a good reliable time slot (Sunday, 10pm) and with access to E4, I am in a perfect position to follow the monumental series to the last, and I’m looking forward to the next eight Sundays.

The first episode of the last series opened with a police raid on the Soprano family home, followed by trip to Tony’s sister and husband Bobby Bacala’s lakeside cabin to relieve the tension. As Bobby and Tony floated in a boat in the lake in a scene reminiscent of the murder of Freddo in Godfather II, the tension starts to ratchet up culminating in a drunken brawl over a game of monopoly gone awry, with Bobby as the unhappy victor.

Tony’s revenge is swift, calculated and total, setting the tone for the series and reminding the viewer that The Sopranos constantly challenges by simultaneously inspiring feelings of identification, warmth and revulsion in its characters, never allowing for complacency or one-dimensional analysis.

As the various threads of the last series come together, this promises to be an explosive coup de grace for possibly the greatest drama to series to come out of America for a generation. I know I’ll be watching.