Round up

Eagle eyed readers will have noticed a distinct lack of new content over the last few weeks.

This is not, as my recent forays into the world of food writing might suggest, because I have sent my glowing friend in the corner to the naughty step. Rather, ever since I purchased my spanking new DVD Recorder, all traces of viewing diversity have all but gone out the window as the Soprano’s consolidates its vice-like grip on my life.

With all 86 episodes now being shown in a row by More 4 every weeknight after 12, prudence dictates I record each one, while compulsion makes damn sure I watch them. This all adds up to over 5 hours viewing per week, and with all the time it takes to hold down a job, eat, read (the Godfather, tackily,) watch the news and brush my teeth, there is very little room for anything else.

As such, after a brief flourish, democracy has once again yielded to autocracy, diversity overwhelmed by homogony, and freedom of choice brutally crushed by the all pervading influence and authority of Divine Right.

A few rogue elements have slipped through the net in recent days however, and it is with great personal risk and likely censure, that I bring you this week’s resumen de televisión, live from behind the ion curtain.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall. It’s not that I don’t like him, I’ve just never been particularly inspired by his pig-rearing, free-ranging grow your own or die approach to cookery, finding it a tad beyond my means. However, with River Cottage: Gone Fishing, we’ve made our peace. In the latest River Cottage offering Hugh takes his welly boots and straggly locks around Britain’s coastline in search of the best self caught seafood he can find. He then cooks it simply, and usually outdoors, before serving it up to old sea dogs and salt of the earth types who receive with all the gratitude they can muster for a double-barrelled land luber who just cost them a morning’s work. It’s a pretty simple formula, but proves interesting and educational, incidentally stomping all over The Wild Gourmets who tried a similar thing but failed miserably.

Also evading capture in service of the truth this week was Channel 4’s “contemporary re-telling of the story of the story of Exodus,” aptly titled of course, Exodus.

After being abandoned by his immigrant mother on a beach, Moses is adopted by evil right-wing leader Pharoah Mann, who brings him up in a world of wealth and privilege, albeit failing to impress any of his beliefs on his young son. After killing a soldier with one punch, Moses is exiled to dreamland, an old fairground complex turned internment camp that is home to criminals, refugees, and the dispossessed. There he quickly and quietly finds his old family, becomes a great leader, and leads his followers to the land of Milk and Honey.

At least I think this was the story, as I became increasingly less interested the more I watched Exodus, and infinitely more happy to amuse myself with facetious little musings on the inconsistencies of the premise.

I am usually a big fan of dystopian visions of the future, particularly when they involve some sort of authoritarian element, but Exodus unfortunately failed to float my boat. I admittedly should have sat through it until the end, if only to see how much the programme would deviate from the original story, but in a world of infinite media choices and unprecedented access to information, if you haven’t got me in the first 15 minutes, I’m not likely to stick around.

Also this week I tuned in excitedly to Kitchen Nightmares, which after a smashing first two episodes has dissolved into cynical rehashing of old stories, by way of Gordon “re-visiting” restaurants from previous series, and as such only needing to show about 25% new footage. I also went to see Planet Terror in the cinema, which proved gratuitous, vile, and thoroughly enjoyable.