Can you believe I was about to go to bed without doing my final post of NaBloPoMo?

Fortunately, I remembered just in time.

See you in December...

I've Got My Hand In Your Head: Neuroscience / Music Monday Combo

I have just finished a fantastic book called The Brain That Changes Itself, by Norman Doidge. Perhaps surprisingly for someone with no knowledge of science at all (Physics GCSE and that's it), I am a real neuroscience nerd, and love nothing more than curling up with a good book all about horrific brain injuries. Cosy, eh? On my shelf you will find classic neuroscience tracts by the likes of Oliver Sacks, Steven Johnson and Paul Broks, and I impulsed-purchased The Brain That Changes Itself whilst hanging out in Waterstones before a meeting, and proceeded to inhale the whole thing over the weekend.

Basically, you should stop reading my review now and read the book instead. But seeing as how you are here, TBTCI is a fascinating exploration of the key emerging concept in brain science of neuroplasticity - the idea that far from being a fixed machine which, once damaged, cannot be repaired, the brain is a fluid, living entity where different functions compete for space. The things you do remap your brain; the things you do a lot remap your brain a lot. (I'm simplifying a tad.) And parts of your brain that might usually do one thing are capable of doing others, particularly if trained in the right ways, which gives immense hope to those who are brain damaged, by birth, accident, stroke and so on. Some of the stories here are, no pun intended, mind-blowing: from a woman born retarded who cured herself, to another who was born, and lives and functions, with only half a brain.

This then gives hope to those of us who are not brain damaged but who might have behavioural patterns we are unhappy with. By repeating the patterns, we've worn tracks in our minds which are hard to get out of, which explains why we keep doing the same harmful things over and over. But like any other kind of damage, we can train and practice and get our brains onto a better path. (When I say we, I do mean me, by the way, though perhaps you will recognise yourself also.) Does this sound self-helpy? It isn't meant to. More that the book provides a deep insight into what it actually means, at the level of your personal brain chemistry, when you think of who you are and what you might be trying to change. (There I go with you. I still mean me.)

It's utterly inspiring stuff. Though as a caveat, you will have to have a high tolerance for vivisection, as the researchers in the book are constantly severing monkeys' spinal nerves and sewing kittens' eyes shut. If you like the sound of it - the book, not the vivisection - there's more on the author's website and the book is available in all the usual places. Also, can we pause for a moment to admire this author photo, taken by Denise Grant? This is what a psychoanalyst should look like, no?



All this makes me think about how I'd like to read more non-fiction. I didn't go near the stuff after school and university because I thought it would be all like textbooks, but in recent years I've found I've missed all the learning I took for granted when I was growing up, and now I want to find out more about this world of ours, goddammit. (Not god damn the world. That would be a foolhardy invitation. It's just an expression.) Dearest blog friends, can you recommend some great non-fiction for me to read? Other books on diverse factual topics that I've read and loved have included The Shadow of the Sun (Kapuscinski), Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (Biskind), The Age of Absurdity (Michael Foley) - that may be one for another blog post, in fact, so brilliant is it. But in the meantime, recommendations please.

Have just realised it's Monday. So here's a themed Music Monday - Hand In Your Head by Money Mark. Here's a fact for you: the first time I heard this, I thought the lyrics were "I've got my hand in your hair and I'm pulling out all of your mites."

Strictlywatch 2010: Post-Blackpool hangover

ladangentitiforstricodaanheryourhobruforandteda -

Sorry, what was that? Oh, I'm just giving you the real experience of watching pre-recorded Strictly round my gaff on a Sunday evening. In other words, in fast forward.

Which means it's straight into dance one, with Kara and Artem. They're jiving! Are you excited? I'm excited! Well, I would be if I wasn't still sick as a bag of parrots, but I can imagine being excited, and that kind of mental leap, people, is why I am paid the big author bucks. Artem would be excited too, if he didn't have a broken neck and tonsillitis. In the background of the VT they are playing 'Tainted Love.' In case you missed it: they are in love, and Artem is tainted.

Now, I am most definitely on team Kartem, but while this is characteristically nifty, with some lovely choreography from poor, disease-ridden Artem, I actually think Kara is a bit too elegant for the jive. It's less Rockin' Robin and more Rockin' Swan Lake.

Len enthuses. Alesha - DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT IS ALESHA WEARING? It's a frou-frou one-shouldered rose-pink bridesmaid's gown, accessorised with earrings in the shape of mirror balls and a matching ring. Oh honey, don't wear the set. On ITT this week, they did a judges' greatest moments section. Alesha's greatest moments consisted of saying "your best dance" and "well done". Never mind though, there is always Bruno, who steps up to the plate with "Kara von Teese, the sexy jiving peanut." Love you Bruno, love your work.

Scores: 7, 9, 9, 9 and 8 from me.

Next Ann and Anton. In the VT, Ann says that she is in it to win it. It sounds like a threat.

Oh Christ, it's a rumba. With a Titanic theme. To My Heart Will Go On.

Which is actually the best I can say for it, because Ann does almost nothing in this dance. I get that it's hilARious to watch a fat angry Tory ballroom dance, but I reckon any average human being could learn Ann's part in about twenty minutes. If she's going to be in it to win it, she could try doing something, instead of relying on the novelty factor and Anton.

Scores: 1, 5, 5, 3 and 1 from me.

Now it's Patsy and Robin. Robin looks a bit like a squished Artem, and has chosen to confuse us further by wearing a hat. HATS ARE ARTEM'S THING, ROBIN. GET YOUR OWN THING. Gloves, perhaps. Much of the VT is taken by Patsy remarking on Len's comment last week that "You got off on the wrong trotter". 'They love comparing me to animals,' says Patsy. Hmmm. Not *all* animals.

Their dance is an Argentine Tango. Patsy is dressed as the Angel of Death, and has an injured foot. It looks like exactly the kind of dance you might choreograph for someone with an injured foot. Will-anybody-notice-if-I-just-sort-of-carry-her-around-a-bit. Yes, Robin. I will notice.

(And rather late in the day, we take a moment to thank our fabulous singers, Dave Arch and his wonderful orchestra.)

Bruno complains about the lack of spunk. I see the opportunity for a joke, but let it pass.

Scores: 7, 8, 8, 7 and 6 from me.

Next up, Scott and Natalie. In the VT, Scott makes a bid for popularity by whingeing about his scores, saying that he's working two jobs and that he's "jaded". He then says "when I'm very tired, I like to mess about, and certain characters come out." He's the Incredible Hulk with narcolepsy. You won't like him when he's sleepy.

And guess what? I don't like him when he's sleepy. He forgets half the dance. At one point Natalie has to pull him around by the neck. If only it was a comedy moment in a Charleston. Alas, it's an American Smooth.

Scores: 6, 7, 9, 9 and 6 from me. The 9s are insane.

There now follows a VT interlude based on The Magnificent Seven where all the contestants wear cowboy hats and stand in a fake Wild West backdrop talking in terrible American accents about being still in the competition. It is just plain horrible. Ann's cowboy hat is tiger-print. Remind me, how many of the Magnificent Seven ended up getting shot?

I'm really not enjoying Strictly tonight, I've got to be honest with you. And it's Gavin and Katya next. All the way through the VT, all Gavin can talk about is how much he's hating the dance. Let me tell you, my hopes are not up. No. They are down.

It's more comedy choreography from Katya, the main problem being that Katya isn't very funny. The joke is that they are on a film set, and that Gavin is wearing glasses and green tartan golfing trousers. No? Me neither. It starts badly and it ends badly, but there is a sudden and desperately surprising good bit in the middle. I only wish someone was watching with me and could confirm that it really happened.

Len compares the dance to wearing an angora beret. Craig compares it to Ann Widdecombe. THE KNIVES ARE OUT.

Scores: 3, 6, 7, 6 and 5 from me. Tess refers to Gavin as 'boyo'. Oh Tess. I know it's in your contract that you have to mention Gavin being Welsh every week, but I think it's probably best to stay clear of words that are officially classed as insults under the race relations act.

Next it's Matt and Aliona. Rescue me, Matt. In the VT, Matt says, "There's no doubt about it, Aliona and I are a great team, to be honest." Thus I conclude that he HATES her. Aliona says "Our secret is that we understand each other very well without talking to each other." Yup. She hates him back. Much as I love watching Matt and Aliona dance, there is a little part of me - well, a medium sized part of me - oh OK, I basically am dying to see them crack and start trying to kill each other on the dancefloor. First Matt would pull her by her My Little Pony pink hair. Then Aliona would gouge her talons down his happy farmer face. Come on, admit it, it would be AMAZING.

Instead they perform an American Smooth. (I can't help but notice that the producers - the same producers that make Scott look like an arrogant, self-satisfied cock in the VT each week - are also giving him the same dance as Matt each week, as if to say to the audience, "Look at these two identical dances, and see how much better one of them is." Who did Scott shag and never call back?) It's clearly been designed to be incredibly romantic - flowing garments, glorious lifts, do I detect rumba-influence choreography? - and yet the whole thing is immeasurably improved for me by imagining the two of them spending the entire dance thinking about how much they loathe each other and devising elaborate revenge scenarios in the manner of Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas in War of the Roses. "When I watch you eat, when I see you asleep, when I look at you lately, I just wanna smash your face in."

Alesha says that she's disappointed, because she didn't feel relaxed watching it, and Matt's face looked "tense". I have to agree, if by "tense" she means "you looked like you wanted to bite off one of Aliona's ears". Bruno genuinely mentions the words "American Psycho" and "murder". Apparently, I am not alone.

Scores: 8, 8, 8, 9 and 9 from me, though I'd have given another point for bloodshed. Tell you what, I have massively perked up.

Lastly, Pamela and James doing a Charleston. Yay! Best moment of the VT involves Pamela stuck hanging upside down by the microphone cable from James's arse. I am nothing if not a woman of sophisticated tastes.

They are dancing to Let's Misbehave and the theme of the dance is two teachers sneaking away for sexy time. It's lots of fun and full of charm, and yet the word that springs immediately to my mind is "gallumphing". I'm not sure that's a great ballroom dancing word.

Judges in ecstasies.

Scores: 9, 9, 10, 10 and 9 from me.

Results? Patsy and Gavin bottom two, Patsy out.

Quantity / Quality

So it's fair to say that if I succeed in the NaBloPoMo challenge, it will have been from following the letter rather than the spirit of the law. Right now I am sneezing over the screen of my iPhone whilst queueing for access to the computer, behind my 5-year-old nephew who is currently engaged in a game, described by him, when I asked, as "dat one." Tuesday is the last day of NaBloPoMo and I am intrigued as to whether you've enjoyed this at all. When it comes to blogs, how do you weigh up the relative importance of quantity and quality? What I fear is that by increasing the quantity I don't actually bring the quality up much at all, and in fact may diminish it. Perhaps I should bear this in mind when working on the novel as well.

Only tangentially relevantly, but while I'm here: it is so annoying, in this cold snap, that it's impossible to use an iPhone with gloves on. That's what you get when you let Californians take over product design. Pffffft. *tries to rub life back into scaly blue fingers*.

Still ill

Properly now, so I'm on antibiotics. They are making my wee lime green. If nothing else, it is diverting.

There is really definitely no ageism at the BBC, honest

I didn't watch Children In Need this year, but I was on Twitter while it was on, and was struck by the following tweet from Caitlin Moran (aka @caitlinmoran, who you really should be following if you're on Twitter, as she is very funny.) (You must like very funny or why would you be here?) (Don't answer that.)

"Does Fearne Cotton SEE that she, too, will be culled as a presenter when she hits 37? DOES SHE THINK SHE WILL ESCAPE THE FATE OF ROSLIN?"

It is notable, at a time when the BBC are quick to refute all accusations of ageism (see the cases of Moira Stewart, Arlene Philips, Miriam O'Reilly etc) that Terry Wogan is permitted to carry on presenting Children in Need as he gets older and older, but the blondes standing next to him mysteriously stay the same age.

The first Children in Need broadcast was in 1980. Terry Wogan (then 42) hosted with Sue Lawley (then 34) and Esther Rantzen (then 40). Two years later, Sue Cook, (then 33) took on co-hosting duties for the next thirteen years, leaving at the age of 46. Gaby Roslin took over in 1994 when she was 30, and continued as the co-host until 2004 (age 40). In 2005, Natasha Kaplinsky (33) took over, just for a couple of years. Then in 2007, Fearne Cotton (then 25) joined the hosting team. There was a blip in the downwards age trajectory in 2008 when Tess Daly joined them both, at the ripe old age of 39. But then, she is a lingerie model on the side, so not exactly greying and turning to fat. Terry Wogan, in case you've lost track, is still the main anchor. He turned 72 this year.

Is it possible to imagine a reality in which Sue Lawley or Esther Rantzen had remained the host of Children in Need for the last thirty years, joined by a succession of young, sexy men?

While we're on the subject, can you picture a Strictly Come Dancing hosted by a grey-haired 82-year-old woman with Vernon Kay as her sidekick? In fact, can you imagine any mainstream TV programme being hosted by an 82-year-old woman with grey hair? Or any woman at all with grey hair?

A spokesperson in the case brought by Miriam O'Reilly (sacked as Countryfile presenter age 52, alongside three other woman presenters in their 40s) described the idea that the BBC was ageist as "absolute nonsense".

Hmmm.

Still ill

and this is why I don't usually pledge to blog every day for a month. Bleurgh.

Cold

I have a cold. I wonder why more illnesses aren't named after temperatures or states of weather: a hot, a storm, a blizzard.

If I had my freedom with language I'd say that right now I had a heavy fog with a touch of sleet.

Strictlywatch: Blackpool Special

It's Vegas, baby! Vegas! And not just any Vegas! The Vegas of Las! VIVA LAS VEGAS!!! Viva, viva Las -

Oh, OK it's Blackpool. But there isn't a song that goes Viva Las Blackpool, so the Strictly pros are doing an Elvis-themed fan dance to Viva Las Vegas because nothing says Blackpool like Vegas! Look at everything Vegas and Blackpool have got in common: strippers, trannies, tat. Um. And other things. But anyway: it's Strictly Come Dancing Blackpool week and I have been instructed that this is exciting so WELCOME TO VEGAS, I MEAN BLACKPOOL BABY! BLACKPOOL!

For the occasion, Tess has chosen to wear a red satin jumpsuit which is the scarlet twin to a black item I had when I was 16, in 1992. Thus in kindness to my 16-year-old self I must withhold judgement, but I will say that I might not have persuaded my mother to purchase said item for me if I knew that onlookers would be quite so mesmerised by my crotch. As my friend Karen*, in whose home I am watching tonight's Strictly, says: "It's like it's been airbrushed". Poor Tess: either she's not going to get to sit down all night or she has a team of lackeys just off-camera waiting to iron her groin.

(*A note: Karen has recently moved and does not have internet, so I am writing this after the event.)

First on the floor are Patsy and Robin. I am going to stop calling Patsy the black horse of this competition as patently she isn't. Patsy is not only not very good, she also always has eyeliner applied at a downwards angle, so that she looks perpetually disappointed. No self-respecting horse of any colour would allow that. In Patsy and Robin's VT, we get the Vegas, I mean Blackpool, theme up and running with the addition of showgirls to the training room. Karen and I look closely. They are not trannies.

For the dance itself (a samba to 'Copacabana' because nothing says Blackpool like etc) Patsy is wearing a dress that looks like it is made entirely of off-cuts, and dances a dance which ditto, inspiring judges comments which also.

Scores: 6, 7, 8, 7, 6 from me and 7 from Karen. Already Alesha has shown herself to be nuts. Patsy responds to the criticism in manner of drunk barmaid being dragged off a table. I am slightly afraid.

Next up it's Kara and Artem. The VT is very emotional because Kara has knackered Artem's shoulder in training - definitely in training, nowhere else - and he is being terribly brave, and Kara is crying, and he is going to do the dance anyway, and oh my god. It's like a First World War movie. At this point I must admit that I was wrong all along about Kara and Artem: they are actually and most definitely a completely adorable loved up couple of love. It is easier for me to admit this than it might be because I have utterly transfered my allegiance to team Kartem. Favourite contestants in years. KARTEM FOR THE WIN.

So it will come as no surprise to you that I adore their American Smooth. Imagine an American Smooth as the opening sequence to a Bond movie, minus the naked ladies coming out of guns waving their arms up and down in silhouette. And danced by two people who are completely in love and unbelievably talented and one of them has a duff shoulder of doom but is being brave and lifting the other one up onto it like a bird, a BIRD. Karen and I immediately rewind it and watch it again.

Alesha loves. Bruno loves. Craig loves. Len HATES. Bleats on about it not being a foxtrot, how can he judge something that is meant to be a foxtrot and isn't a foxtrot. I am reminded of the opening sequence of Strictly Ballroom, when the lead bloke, who I want to be Ralph Macchio but isn't, dances his own steps and causes SCANDAL. In a moment Tina Sparkle is going to come on. That would be BRILLIANT.

Scores: 9, 6, 10, 10. Len has given this dance the same score he gave Ann and Anton last week, where Ann plodded around like she was wearing concrete boots. Karen and I both give 10s.

Moving on to Matt and Aliona. Something has gone wrong for Team Matt. They should be the favourites, and I should love this. It's a samba, and they do a considerable amount of it facing Dave Arch, his singers and his wonderful orchestra, so I have a perfect view of his bum wiggling, and it is quite the wiggle to watch. Matt is a terrific dancer and he is totally hot. And yet, when Matt does a sequence of backflips at the end of the dance, it reminds me of nothing other than the slightly desperate act of the man who only goes down on you because he's scared you're going to dump him.

According to Len, there's no point putting in backflips just because Matt can do them - "I was at school with a boy who could fart God Save the Queen, but it's got nothing to do with the salsa." Two questions immediately interpose themselves: why is Len in such a foul mood this week, and was he really at school with a boy who could fart God Save the Queen?

Scores: 9, 9, 10, 10 and 9s from both Karen and me.

Now for Felicity and Vincent. Felicity has given up completely and walks her way through her American Smooth. Poor Felicity, from thinking man's crumpet to being outclassed on the dancefloor by someone who is considered to be unsexy even by the standards of Tory MPs. "Lacklustre" says Karen, and I have to agree.

Len, naturally, loves it. If you were playing the "Len has lost his mind" drinking game, by now you'd be too drunk to see the screen.

Scores: 7, 7, 8, 8, and Karen and I give 6s. We are hard.

It's just going from bad to worse because next up it is Gavin and Katya. Why is he still here? *Whimpers* Jimi... Jimiiiiii.... please come baaaack! I quote my notes verbatim: "Hat. Tom Jones. Microphone. No."

Len calls it excellent.

Scores: 4, 7, 8, 8. I give it a 6, and Karen is so bored that she is unable to score it, but confesses to a 7 under pressure.

Next up it's Ssscott and Natalie - but WAIT!! A SPECIAL TREAT FOR US ALL FIRST!!! BRUCE IS DANCING!!!!

What's that? We rewound Kara and Artem's dance at the beginning of the episode, which means we have exactly the right amount of video so that we can fastforward all the way through this abomination of tap? *Dodges bullet*

As I was saying, next up, it's Ssscott and Natalie. Ssscott does not look well. Specifically, he looks like a lizard with giant ears. They are dancing a samba, which is good, and yet somehow not.

I am not feeling eloquent, so it's over to Bruce for his verdict: "This is Blackpool," says Bruce. Thank you for that insight.

You know what's happened? It's that time in the series, when it's been going on for far too long but you're nowhere near the climax. Like that feeling of exhausted misery you get six hours into a fourteen hour flight. You've already been going for what feels like the very limit of your tolerance, and yet somehow there is still forever til you land. Yes, that's it, only in a tinsel bikini.

Meanwhile, the judges have given 6, 8, 9 and 9, and Karen and I volunteer 8s.

Confession time: my notes for Pamela and James read: "Wasn't fully paying attention, but seemed good enough." I can't even remember what dance they were doing. 8, 9, 10, 10. 10 and 10???? Karen and I give 8s, but on the basis of what, I can't be certain.

Last up are Ann and Anton. My resistance is low. They are dancing a samba. I may not survive. I am briefly roused by a moment in VT where Ann refuses to do samba rolls because they are a "most improper" move.

And then they come out on stage.

OH MY GOD. Ann is dressed as Big Bird's busty aunt. And Anton is in trousers that - trousers which are - OH LORD, MY EYES, MY EYES.

They are gold, anyway.

The dance is awful. I know I've been having a sense of humour failure for the last hour or so, but Ann really doesn't do anything for most of the dance, which does lead me to wonder why exactly it is that she can't learn a basic routine, given that she is not in any way mentally or physically disabled. Then, towards the end, Anton grabs her and starts throwing her around in a way that goes beyond funny into completely undignified - think giving an obese child an 'aeroplane' - and ends with Ann on the floor with her skirt above her head, flashing her drawers to the world. All this in canary yellow. I mean no. NO. Just - NO.

Scores: 1, 5, 4, 3. Karen gives it a 4 and I give it a 1.

And that's it. I am barely standing. Et tu, Blackpool.

(This week's knock-out: Felicity and Vincent.)

Placeholder Post

I am halfway through writing up my Strictlywatch, but now I must go and eat vast quantities of Indian food with my uncle, and after that I suspect I may wish to lie down whimpering but also savouring the joy of eating a week's worth of food in an hour. Thank you for your understanding.

Mistakes

I am at home.

My computer is at work.

Blogging on a phone is a tiny-keyboarded nightmare.

Do I renounce all claims to true writership if I can't be arsed to write like this? I mean, I know that writers are supposed to say 'if I can't write I'll die' but is one permitted to add the caveat 'except if I have to write using only my thumbs, on keys a quarter of the size of the nail on my little finger'?

Strictlywatch will return with my reunion with a full-sized keyboard.

Postcard Story

On Tuesday I wrote briefly about the organisation that I teach with, First Story, and I mentioned how much I'd like to publish some of my class's work on this blog, but that I was keeping it confidential for now.

Yesterday, there was a great article about First Story in the Independent. At the end of it they published this piece which was written for a competition to have a story printed on a postcard. Stories had to be 100 words or fewer. I think it is brilliant:

The first time I got drunk, I banged my head and I was amazed that it didn't hurt.
And when I caught a pigeon, tipped petrol on it and set it on fire, it flew up for about five seconds and then came plummeting back to earth.
The first time I got arrested, I was scared and I made myself look guilty when I took the blame for a mate.
When I bought 10 lighters from the car boot and set them alight, they made a massive fire and a loud bang and I remember wanting to do it again.
I remember my first sight of a serious blood leak from my head. I didn't cry until I looked in the mirror and saw my skull.

By Arran (Oxford Upper School)

Oi! Rushdie! Get Orf My Land!

Today I am mainly loving this.

He nicked my idea about those extra verses in the Koran as well.

November Book Swap

Last Book Swap of the year tomorrow! Except for the one that Scott is doing as part of the Peckham Literary Festival on the 25th, and the kids' one that Scott is doing, um, at some point (I'm sure he'll big both of them up over at his blog). I have no idea where Scott gets the energy. He has a job and everything. But it's *my* last Book Swap of the year and I hope you will join me as we have most excellent guests -

Maggie Gee, whose My Cleanerand My DriverI adored, and my aunt in Botswana will be getting for Christmas (it's OK, I have already told her) (it's also OK because it's the books my aunt is getting, not Maggie Gee)

- and -

Milton Crawford, whose The Hungover Cookbookis a Boxing Day and New Year's Day essential, for reasons I am certain are obvious, although I will be quizzing him closely on the veracity of his claims, as when I'm hungover all I can face is half a banana and a weak cup of mint tea, which inexplicably are not listed in his recipes.

Yes. It will be good. Details as ever par ici. Also as ever, I will point out that Windsor is much closer to other places, like London and Oxford, than you might think. (Though it remians quite a long way from Canada.)

Some People

Aside from the day job of writing this blog, I mean books, every week I teach a creative writing class to a group of teenage girls in a South London school. It's a joy, and a humbling one, as they are consistently brilliant, talented and surprising. Today we did an exercise that was so rewarding that I thought you might want to have a go. It's easy. Just read this poem and rewrite it thinking about what it is in your life that other people might not know. We were all in tears by the end of class. (I'd love to post the girls' amazing work here but for now I'm keeping everything they write confidential.) Thanks to Kate Clanchy for suggesting this poem, and to Rita Ann Higgins for being such an amazing poet (and apologies to her for changing the word 'cunt' to 'cow' for my class of 13-14 year olds):

SOME PEOPLE
By Rita Ann Higgins

Some people know what it is like
to be called a cunt in front of their children
to be short for the rent
to be short for the light
to be short for the school books
to wait in Community Welfare waiting rooms full of smoke
to wait two years to have a tooth looked at
to wait another two years to have a tooth out (same tooth)
to be half strangled by your varicose veins, but you’re 198th on the list
to talk into a banana on a jobsearch scheme
to talk into a banana on a jobsearch dream
to be out of work
to be out of money
to be out of fashion
to be out of friend
to be in for the Vincent de Paul man
(sorry, mammy isn’t in today she’s gone to Mars for the weekend)
to be in Puerto Rico for the blanket man
to be dead for the coal man
(sorry, mammy passed away in her sleep, overdose of coal in the teapot)
to be in hospital unconscious for the rent man (St Jude’s ward 4th floor)
to be second hand
to be second class
to be no class
to be looked down on
to be pissed on
to be shat on
and other people don’t.

Music Monday

I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself today so all I'm going to do is post a song I really love.

Strictlywatch 2010: the week before Blackpool

OK, this isn't good. While I was away reveling in revelry - hmm, wonder why I chose those words, Mr Horwood? - my PVR was playing up so it didn't record Strictly. Which means that I will be trying to watch it and blog about it on the same tiny laptop at the same time, and even worse, as I recall it, iPlayer frowns upon the use of fastforward (why BBC? Why must I watch every minute of your output? I pay you, not the other way around. Why must you keep me in these shackles?) which means that There Will Be Bruce. I predict a return for Grumpy Judge. But let's see.

Mutter mutter mutter, intro intro intro. Has Tess got her hair up or is that a new do? She does look even more frozen behind the eyes than usual - the look of terror which traditionally accompanies a risky new haircut. Suddenly it is announced that next week they are in Blackpool - they have kept this very quiet, after last year's GET CRAIG TO BLACKPOOL (and leave him there) extravaganza. The look of fear is explained: just Tess's natural Northern panic at having to hear Brucie's comedy Blackpool accent.

Anyway, first on the floor are Pamela and James. They are both wearing pinstripe men's suits and bowler hats. Either he is going to rip hers off a la Bucks Fizz to reveal a tiny dress underneath, or they are doing a tribute to Morecombe and Wise. Maybe a rendition of the breakfast dance?



I would LOVE to see that. Damn it. Now whatever they come up with will be a disappointment.

In the VT, James and Pamela go to Scotland. But of course! That Scots block vote has gone to waste this year, and Pam is Mrs Billy Connelly after all. Pam and Bill's house contains severe crimes against tartan. Oh Pam. Oh Bill. Jokes should be amusing. Upholstery, less so.

They are dancing a cha cha cha to 'Money (That's What I Want)'. He rips her suit off to reveal a tiny dress beneath. So, not Morecombe and Wise then.

Judges cautiously praising. Bruce demands more hanky panky.

Scores: 8, 8, 8, 8, and a 7 from me. No grapefruit. No cleavers. No point.

Next up Michelle and Brendan. Michelle is celebrating being still in the competition by wearing a bright red bra under a white lace dress. According to the VT, together, Michelle and Brendan are celebrating still being dance partners by shouting at each other a lot. Ah bless, it's just like a marriage.

They're doing a Paso to 'American Woman'. I am totally distracted by Michelle doing some kind of chomping all the way through. Either she is chanting motivational slogans to herself or she's gone way too far into character as the bull and is chewing the cud.

As we take a moment to thanks our fabulous singers, Dave Arch and his wonderful orchestra, I can't help but notice that Michelle looks FURIOUS.

Before the judges comment, Michelle announces that whatever they're about to say, she agrees. Someone should let her face know.

Scores: 4, 7, 7, 6 and a 6 from me.

Now it's Patsy and Robin. Dark Horse! Come on! The dark horse! Yes? Am I right? Am I? This week? So I can stop saying it?

In Bruce's intro, he mentions Patsy's weight loss again, and makes a joke about Christopher Biggins being fat and camp. RETURN TO ME MY FASTFORWARD BUTTON, OH PLEASE, RETURN TO ME.

They are doing a Viennese Waltz. Well, I suppose somebody has to. For this dance, Patsy is dressed all in black, and wearing a horse's head. Oh OK, she's in a pale pink 1960s nightgown. It's pretty. I mean the dance. Patsy puts a lot of work into her facial expressions and I suspect she has been preparing for this by watching Hopelessly Devoted To You, over and over and over.



Judges positive. Horse references nil.

Scores: 7, 9, 8, 8 and a 7 from me. Len has lost his mind! Drink!

Now it's Gavin and Katya. Never mind the lack of horse references, someone will call him a Welsh dragon. It's their turn to wheel out the babies in VT. Vote for Gavin! He has babies! (Also, and it's possible you might not know this: he's Welsh.) Gavin's daughter is a better dancer than he is. She is 2.

They are dancing a quickstep. It starts with Gavin snogging Bruno. Yes. It actually does. Interesting that that's acceptable but snogging Alesha wouldn't be. I need to park that, to think about why later. The theme of the dance is Katya Teaches Gavin To Dance so it is full of "mistakes". It is also full of gimmicks. It is not full of quickstep. I hate it.

Judges enthusiastic. Bruno suggests they do it again. Alas, no dance off this year, Bruno.

Katya and Gavin repair upstairs to Tess's lair, where Gavin reveals that his Strictly dream is - yes! - getting to Blackpool. Careful, Gavin. We all know what happens to people who dream that.

Scores: 7, 8, 9, 9. This is madness. Even putting aside the fact that I hated it, Gavin got out of time repeatedly. Are we expected to believe that this is as good as Kara's salsa last week? It isn't. But fear not, grumpy judge is here with her trusty 6.

In her link, Tess calls Gavin a Welsh dragon. Drink!

Now for Ann and Anton. If we can be serious for a moment, in the comments last week Pedro wrote: "I know I probably ought to grow up and Let It Go, but I'm afraid I cannot kick-start my sense of humour when Ann Widdecombe takes to the floor (or chair). All I see is the ugly face of opposition to abortion and gay rights / equality. Isn't there a grotesque irony that she's parading around on one of the campest TV shows ever conceived, surrounded by gay people whose lives she's dedicated a good portion of her life to trying to denigrate and marginalise." I agree with all of that, and feel rather sheepish having got carried away in the Ann-based hilarity. Seeing as she is nevertheless in the show and I am reviewing it, I guess the way I will approach this is to focus my attention on Anton, whose doing all the heavy lifting anyway (literally and metaphorically) - how is he dealing with the task of making a silk purse from a sow's ear?

In the intro, Bruce mentions Eric Morecombe! We are psychic! With a 24 hour and 10 minute delay.

They are dancing the Foxtrot to You Make Me Feel So Young. Fair play to Anton, he keeps it gimmick-free until the very end, which is a brave move, but also a clever one, as Ann does get a lot of the steps right, and with nothing to distract from them, it makes it look like there has been a massive improvement, which I don't think there has been.

Judges mixed. Len, basically, abstains. It'll be interesting to see what abstaining looks like in the form of a score.

Scores: 3, 6, 6, 5 and a 4 from me. Apparently abstaining is a 6, so, if you really suck, it's worth getting Len to back out of judging you.

Watching the bit of VT about Blackpool that comes after this, it occurs to me that maybe they have been bigging up Blackpool week for ages, except I usually fastforward all of Bruce's bits and all of Tess's interviews. For all I know, there has been talk of nothing else for WEEKS.

Back to business - it's Kara and Artem. Kara is wearing a trilby. I approve. The Chuckle Brothers are in the VT. I don't approve.

They are dancing an Argentine tango, which I am quite excited about. Hang on - have I defected to Team Kara?

Apparently so. It is magnifico. There's a whole lot of business at the start with Kara being sexy with a hat stand before she gives the trilby to Artem - of course she does, hats are his thing, remember - and then it gets proper good with the intensity and the flicky legs and the rest of it. If this doesn't get at least one 10 I'll eat Artem's hat. (I don't really need to worry about that, because it's getting a 10 from me.) I wonder if hats will be Artem's thing every series or if he will develop a new thing next year? Spats perhaps, or wigs?

Look at this, says Bruce pointing at the standing ovation. Kara, look! Artem, look! Well, yes, Bruce, but the audience gives a standing ovation to every dance.

Scores: 9, 9, 10, 10 and 10 from me. Craig doesn't give 10s lightly so that's fine, and Alesha and Bruno have to go to 10s after giving Gavin 9s, but this means Len thinks it was on a par with Patsy. Len has lost his mind! Again! Drink!

Now it's Felicity and Vincent. I had forgotten Felicity was in it. Not a good sign. They bring in four of her grandchildren to judge her in the VT, and although they all loyally give 10s, you can see from the comments that something isn't right. "Maybe if he carried her around or something?" suggests one. That's never a good note.

They are dancing a salsa to All Night Long which is an unfortunate choice, because Felicity does not lose herself in wild romance. I think she has looked into the face of being the third-least-popular woman over 60 in this series of Strictly and given up.

Judges not happy. Craig calls it a minor disaster. Which is actually fairly kind.

Scores: 5, 7, 7, 7 and 5 from me.

Next, Matt and Aliona. It's a rumba. Oh dear. In the VT, he says, "We're throwing everything at this." Oh DEAR.

Well. It's a rumba. Let's move on.

Judges positive, with qualifications from Craig and Len. They should have retired the rumba after Rachel Stevens did a good one and proved that it was possible.

Scores: 8, 9, 9, 9 and 7 from me, though I am not to be relied upon in this dance.

Last dance tonight comes from Sssscott and Natalie. Last week, they danced a rumba. This can't be worse.

At this point I get distracted during the VT and try to rewind it, only succeeding in FASTFORWARDING it. IT IS POSSIBLE!! AND I HAVE ALREADY SAT THROUGH SO MUCH BRUCE!!! OH, CRUELEST FATE!!!! Anyway, the person who edited the VT must really hate Ssscott because it intercuts him being impeccably modest in interview with shots of him saying things like "You can't be brilliant at everything" in his post-dance reaction, and then adds on a montage of clips of him pretending to be jungle creatures.

As much as the editors hate Ssscott, the costumiers hate Natalie more. She is wearing giant polo mints for earrings. They are doing a jive to 'Hit The Road Jack' and if you imagined how a jive to that song might be choreographed on Playschool you'd be about right - yes, there's a big red door, and lots of being pushed out of it and slamming it etc, and there's a bit with a suitcase that bursts open all over the stage. Plus Bruno gets another kiss, off Natalie this time. Is it his birthday? In short, the choreography is nothing if not literal. But Scott dances it brilliantly - there, I've said it. In fact, it's the best jive since Jill's. (If you can think of a Jack and Jill joke, go right ahead.)

Judges love it. Bruno says it's the best jive since Jill's. I've always admired Bruno's insight.

Scores: 9, 10, 10, 10 and 10 from me. Craig's 9 gets booed.

And that's it for another week. As for who went? After the Jimi shock of last week, it was a predictable one. Felicity and Michelle in the bottom two, with Michelle hitting the road (Jack).

Saturday

I am not here.

But it would be a crying shame to fail my IntBloPoMo challenge just because of that...

Portsmouth Litfest

Tonight the Book Swap visits Portsmouth! Our guests are Mick Jackson, a Book Swap alumnus (in Alfreston, so I wasn't there) whose new novel The Widow's Tale I'm enjoying hugely - his previous, The Underground Man, was Booker-shortlisted, so may be even better; and Charlotte Moore, who's written a wonderful biography of her house Hancox and the people who lived in it (including some brilliantly inspiring era-defying independent-minded women), and who I met at a lunch party a few years ago and thus I can report is very nice and has impeccable table manners. That should help with the cake. Join us! We'll be at the Aspex Gallery at 7.30pm. Don't forget to bring a book to swap.

Gigs: Behaving Badly

Let me tell you something. Blogging every day is hard work. Especially when I realise that I'm going to be away at a wedding all day Saturday and my computer is not. You have been warned.

Anyway, yesterday I was at Ally Pally for a Hot Chip and LCD Soundsystem gig. Hot Chip were great. It's the third or fourth time I've seen them, I can find their records a bit feeble but they crank it right up live - one of my favourite live bands in fact, which is astonishing for electronica which too often is "two blokes in hoodies with a computer". Hot Chip are "six multi-instrumentalists with a dizzying array of personal styles" or in other words, the Madchester one, the hot one, the one who looks like that bloke out of The Office, the tax inspector, the one off Dragon's Den, and the one at the back. They're practiclly the Spice Girls. Plus their music sounds like New Order and Eurhythmics and Kylie. Thus, I was able to test out my new hairstyle for dancing. It held up well. Much swooshing without giving any of my neighbours whiplash.

Then on came LCD Soundsystem. I'm not a fan of the band, not in the sense that I don't like them - as it turns out, I do - but I only knew a couple of tracks before I went. The band were terrific, no complaints there. Like New Order and Talking Heads and Flaming Lips. (I just wrote 'Flamingo Lips'. Who wants to form a tribute band with me?) (Yes, I know flamingos don't have lips.) But the room (er, giant room-imitating tent thing?) got a lot more crowded and I got a LOT more annoyed. Do we seriously have to have the 'decent behaviour at gigs' conversation again?? I can just about forgive 'dancing like a lunatic and smacking me with his flailing arms because he was on drugs' man, because at least he was enjoying the gig, but 'pushed right into the moshpit* in front of me and then stood stock still with his arms up videoing the band on his crappy phone, subjecting me to wafts of terrible BO' boy can go to hell. Especially when his memory card ran out and he spent the next several minutes flicking through the photos looking for ones he could delete and replace with shaky out-of-focus images of tiny hobbit people on a faraway stage. Mate: you are not, in any significant way, experiencing this gig. Stay home and buy the DVD. And take a shower. Then of course there was 'chatting all the way through' couple and 'smoking indoors' bloke and 'singing along badly' girl - oh hang on, that was me...

*Do people still say moshpit? Do people still mosh? The front-of-stage dancing zone, anyway.

A Hungry Post

Much as I would like to blog - much, in fact, as I would like to stay in the office and finish the work I was supposed to do today - I need to go home now, because I am too hungry to remain. This is somewhat embarrassing, but I suppose it is what comes from having your lunch at 11.45 instead of your usual 1.30, which is what comes of having only a banana for breakfast because you didn't want to feel sick in your yoga class. (Just as well. We were doing twists).

So why not head over to one of my favourite sites, Passive Aggressive Notes, and enjoy this excellent, and somewhat crazy, photo essay? (With apologies to those who have already seen it when I posted it on Twitter yesterday.)

I'm on the List!

Doing a spot of vanity surfing, I noticed that Gods Behaving Badly has some new friends on Amazon. Usually, the 'Customers Who Bought This Title Also Bought' category is filled with light contemporary fiction and the odd similarly-themed novel such as 'Jitterbug Perfume' (which I haven't read, as I'm certain that reading similarly-themed novels is a one way ticket to unhealthy comparisons and depression or, possibly, triumphalism and unattractive crowing.) But suddenly, it's all 'Gods, Whores and Slaves; Woman in Classical Antiquity' and 'The Mirror of the Gods: Classical Mythology in Renaissance Art'. Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that I am on a reading list. Students will be speeding through my novel as fast as they possibly can, reading only the first and last paragraph of each chapter and desperately hoping it won't come up in any essay questions in the exam! If they are anything like me anyway. I have to say it is genuinely exciting and flattering to think that somebody - somebody who presumably knows their onions - thought my book was worth recommending alongside the likes of Metamorphoses and Medea.

Where reading lists are found, googling surely is not far behind, so please do say hello if you have reached my blog because your university (or A level Classical Civilisations?) teacher forced you to read my book. On the one hand, I feel I should apologise because I don't think you're going to come out the other end magically empowered to storm through your dissertation. On the other hand, I'm guessing GBB will be a more fun read than The Penguin Dictionary of Classical Mythology. Enjoy! And just so you know, sadly by this stage the only honest answers I can ever give you to 'Why did you do x in your book?' is 'I don't know', 'I can't remember', 'It was the only way I could think of moving the plot along' or 'I nicked it from Ovid'.

On a completely separate note I can't help but notice that they are flogging the audio version of GBB for £45.50. For that money, I will come round and read it to you myself*.

*Disclaimer: no I won't.

Music Monday

A change in direction for Music Monday tonight as I have just been having my string quartet rehearsal. One of my not-so-secret no-so-talents is that I play the cello, and our quartet rehearses two or three times a month, depending on our impossible schedules (first violin has just started a new job with network rail, viola is getting married next week etc.) Anyway, it turns out that my parents were right: if I just stuck at it and did enough practice, playing the cello *would* bring me lifelong joy. (Of course I don't practice any more. Let's not go crazy.)

I love playing in the quartet. It's completely different from anything else that I do. It's non-verbal for a start, which is a relief after a day spent writing, and unlike most of my leisure activities, I am participating rather than observing (TV / cinema / theatre / other music / art etc). It's collaborative, which makes a welcome change from the solitude of my work. It's creative, but in a responsive way; I'm not in charge of composing the music, just interpreting it as well as I can so that it will sound beautiful. Or if I can't manage beautiful, nice. Or if I can't manage nice, at least I can try to get most of the notes in the right place. Even if they are the wrong notes. Suffice to say we aren't planning any performances any time soon, but it does bring me a huge amount of pleasure from my limited ability.

Anyway, here's a new piece we started today - the first movement of Schubert's 'Rosamunde' quartet in A minor.



Imagine being a quarter of that! Amazing feeling, right?

Strictlywatch 2010: results from whatever week it is

Jimi is out! Jimi!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

It just goes to show I know nothing about horses, dark or otherwise.

Catch 22 (Bulgarian edition)

Just popped out to the local corner shop to get the paper and noticed a copy of my favourite novel, Catch 22, on the counter. I asked which of the two men was reading it, and the chap in question replied, in very broken English, that it was his favourite English-language book, that he had read it five or six times in Bulgarian translation, and was now making his way through it in English in order to improve his language skills. Needless to say I was bloody impressed. And also intrigued. If you had to recommend one novel and one novel only for someone to learn English from, which would you choose? I think Catch 22 is a bloody good one, difficult as it is. It's clever, it's funny, it's original and imaginative, plus alongside your English you can study the great British values of sarcasm, irritation with bureaucracy, and contempt for your inferior superiors. (I am, of course, aware that it is an American novel, but even so.) Any other suggestions?

Strictlywatch 2010: oh, you count the weeks

As the opening credits play I am literally walking through the door into my friend Sally's flat - which means there will be - YES!! - guest opinions and NO!! time to pause so will be blogging VERY!! fast.

First up Kara and Artem! According to the Strictly gossip site I've been on, it isn't them who are at it - it's Gavin and Tina. So now I can concentrate on the dancing. I am sure they are relieved. They will also be relieved that they don't have to dress as Sarah Brightman and Michael Ball this week. In the trainning footage, Kara is pre-menstrual. They don't actually say that. But I'd put money on it.

Sally and I are both stunned by the dance. It is INCREDIBLE. Best salsa since Mark Ramprakash - better than Ramps maybe even? Is these possible? Kara does these astonishing cartwheels over Artem's head, landing between his legs. I'd go so far as to say we're in shock.

Judges ecstatic. And quite right too. Bruno says that there was a mistake. We block our ears.

Scores: 9, 9, 9, 9 - Sally and I are APPALLED. Sally points out that Ssssscott's waltz last week was NO WAY bettwe than that. We both give 10s, naturally.

Now it's Pamela and James. We talk through most of the VT but we like the bit where James puts gaffer tape over Pamela's mouth.

This dance, a foxtrot, is also excellent. Though Sally says she is missing the wow factor, and that she (Sally) is fickle and shallow. I love it. They have such great chemistry and it's a classic routine to a classic song (Let There Be Love.) And Pamela has good dancing faces. You get an extra point from me for good dancing faces.

Judges offer qualified enthusiasm. We do not approve of Craig denigrating the cheesiness. Strictly is all about cheese.

Scores: 8, 9, 8, 8, a 9 from me and an 8 from Sally. Sally says there shouldn't be any 10s till a few weeks' time, having already forgotten she just gave one.

Next up, Felicity and Vincent (who were in the bottom two last week.) We talk all the way through the VT again.

Hard to write anything about their Paso Doble (to Carmen), mesmerised as we are by the post-dance moment when Vincent rips off his top and drags Felicity across the floor back to the judges by the ankle. But it was a good dance (with good Paso faces) that suited Felicity. Things that did not suit Felicity: the rotting length of yellow rope they have attached to the back of her head as a "plait".

Judges warm. Sally points out that Felicity has the best dress again.

Scores: 6, 8, 7, 8 and Sally and I both want to give her a 7.5 so we are giving a 7 and an 8 between us.

Now it's Jimi and Flavia. They wheel out Jimi's daughter for the VT so they must think they're at risk of going home. Jimi and Flavia visit her school and the kids all think they are shit. His daughter is mortified. Hilarious.

The dance, a quickstep, is terrific, particularly the opening - fantastic and funny choreography from Flavia. Genius dancing faces again. The standard is ridiculously high this week. We are fully entertained.

Craig is negative, so much so that Bruno stands up and complains. Go Bruno. Everyone else loves it.

Scores: 7, 8, 8, 9 and 9s from us - we cannot argue with the entertainment.

I've only just had time to notice Tess's hot pink toga. Oh Tess. No.

Now it's Matt and Aliona, dancing the Viennese Waltz. I hate the Viennese Waltz. Both Sally and I reckon if we tried to dance it we would throw up, and Matt would seem to agree.

The dance begins ludicrously with a whole load of business around a swing, where they keep hitting the ropes, because they practised around a chair (I saw the training footage online.) Sally reckons the producers just had a swing lying around and asked if they'd mind using it. After the swing bit it is suddenly brilliant, but they go back to the swing for the end. God, no. LEAVE THE SWING. They are losing a point from me for the swing. They danced to 'They Call Me The Wild Rose' - because Aliona has pink hair?

Scores: 8, 9, 9, 9, 8 from Sally, and 9 from me, which would have been a 10, had it not been for the SWING, FFS.

Can't help but notice they have left all the crap people for the second half.

And as if by magic, it's Sally's favourites, Ann and Anton next. Doing a Charleston. RESULT. The training footage is hilarious. Ann and Anton are the best double act since Laurel and Hardy.

It begins and ends in Sepia - nice touch. More valliant comedy choreogrpahy from Anton. Ann looks like the Queen Mother playing aeroplanes. We both love the final kissing of Craig's photograph. Craig looks APPALLED. I'm not sure I can describe Ann's dances, I think you need to watch them on Youtube, they are something beyond.

Judges starting to lose their sense of humour. Craig says that the double bounce action was missing entirely. I noticed a fair bit of double bouncing myself.

Scores: 2, 6, 5, 4, 5 from me - Ann really does perform, even if she doesn't, technically, dance - and 6 from Sally. She is still laughing long after it ends.

Now it's Michelle and Brendan. I wonder if they can build on their great jive last week? We see a clip of Michelle singing the National Anthem (American, natch) at the NFL game, which reminds us what she's really good at.

They are dancing a waltz to Right Here Waiting For You - cheesy song, Sally points out, and indeed she's in a cheesy pink dress, and the waltz is a bit of a cheesy dance, but as discussed, we are all for cheese. And Michelle keeps up the good work from last week's great jive.

Judges mixed. Craig is particularly grumpy tonight - even for him - but Len is very keen.

Scores 6, 8, 8, 8 and 8s from us. 6 is freakishly low. Perhaps Craig has an intestinal complaint.

Next up Patsy and Robin. Surely Patsy will be called the dark horse of the competition this week. She is getting good, but then again, so is everyone. Much talk of her weight loss - she's on a Strictly journey! (Weight loss is of course metaphorical for happiness in Strictly land.)

Oh no. It's a cha cha and it's kind of awful, and we are blaming the song choice. It has no tune or beat and they seem to be dancing out of time, but they are in time with each other, so we don't get it. Patsy is dressed Kylie-like in a little gold dress but even that is ruined by horrible yellow pants underneath. It's horrible yellow pants week.

The judges don't call her the dark horse of the competition, which is because, judging by this, she isn't.

But scores: 6, 8, 7, 8 - nobody can agree. I am giving a 6 - really didn't enjoy it - and Sally is going for a 7.

Now for Sssscott and Natalie. The VT is an extended advert for Eastenders, with many old faces present to lure us back.

Oh god. It's a rumba. Natalie is dressed in tin foil and loo paper and not much of each. Sally hates it. Too bum sticky outy, too cloying, too much savouring of slightly creepy moves. Sally is wisdom incarnate. I feel sorry for Ssscott. He has to do a rumba, nobody gives him the choice. I am incapable of liking a rumba. It isn't his fault.

Judges dislike. Maybe they hate the rumba too.

Scores: 4, 9, 7, 8 - crazy scores. I am going for a 7 and Sally an 8, on the basis that the rumba is such a ghastly dance that we are surely missing something.

Next it's Gavin and Katya. In the VT they play rugby. We love it when Katya "gets her self esteem back" by pulling up her top.

We have no idea what dance they are doing but it's to 'Dont Cha'. Is that a clue? A Cha Cha? Sally calls it "a bit vulgar", which is a MASSIVE understatement. It's a rugby themed dance. Gavin has a ball. Literally. And Katya - OH GOD - is in knee socks, with a tiny red and black tinsel crop top with 'Henson 10' on the back and matching hot pants. Dance-wise, it's more stripper moves from the choreography and we are genuinely embarassed when Katya feels up his crotch.

5, 8, 8, 8 - 6 from me, and Sally flirts with a 7 before reverting to a 6 on the entirely valid basis that she "hated it".

And that's it! Tricky to say who will go but we decide on Patsy. And then Jimi can be the dark horse.

Lesbian posture

Just back from seeing The Kids Are All Right, the lovely new American indie hit starring Julianne Moore and Annette Bening as a lesbian couple struggling to deal with the reappearance of sperm donor Mark Ruffalo in their and their children's lives. It's been getting rave reviews all over the place and pretty much lives up to them, in an American indie not much happens but people spend a lot of time talking about it sort of a way. The magic is in the performances. Ruffalo is disarmingly charming as essentially a bit of a clueless jerk, and you can see why everyone falls for him and is disillusioned by him in turn. And Bening and Moore are utterly believable as the lesbian couple who've been together for so long that they're like a pair of old socks - and then like old socks, they start to get holes. Anyway, it's a film well worth seeing. But that isn't the point of this post.

There's an arch reference in the script to lesbian porn casting straight women to pretend to be gay and of course that's exactly what's happened here. Bening and Moore have clearly worked hard on their lesbian-ness (Bening more butch, Moore more femme) which stretches to costume, hairstyles, make-up (or lack thereof) and posture. Posture? Yes posture. Did you know there was a lesbian posture? No, neither did I. I have met many lesbian women in my time, from a paralympic sports coach to a Grace Kelly-lookalike filmmaker, and I have never noticed that they had a particular kind of posture. But I couldn't help but notice that Moore in particular affected a kind of slump-shouldered slouch that seemed to say "Look how I am not interested in traditional feminine ways of holding myself!" Yes, that might just have been the character. Except that I have also been watching the BBC3 lesbian drama 'Lip Service', which is terrible, by the way. Of the three main leads, all are played by straight women, two make no concession whatsoever in appearance or body language to lesbianism (except when they have sex, during which the body language is pretty conclusive, although the angles of the heads and hands are all slightly off but that's another story) - and the third, "butch" one, has choppy hair and slouchy, affected posture.

Who knows, maybe it is just coincidence. But to experiment, if those of you who are not lesbians will just take a moment to "act lesbian" at your seats... Did any of you do anything weird with your shoulders? Are you sure? Because I'm starting to wonder if we have all internalised some kind of odd belief about the way lesbians stand (or sit, I suppose) which only emerges in straight-acted lesbian dramas.

Strictlywatch 2010: Halloween Special

So... late means dead, right? And Halloween is about dead things and zombies and ghouls, yes? So really, it's appropriate that my review of the Strictly Halloween Special is late, yes? Yes?

Hell's bells! Being days behind and having decided to speed my way through Strictly with liberal use of the fast forward button, I almost missed the opening paso doble, which would have been a *catastrophe* - because I think we all know by now exactly how I'd feel about a group of muscular, bare-chested men in eye make-up doing macho and somewhat homoerotic coordinated dance moves to a soundtrack of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse (an appropriately macho yet homoerotic song, featuring excellent falsetto from someone out of the fabulous singers, Dave Arch and the wonderful orchestra), and that's before we've even added CAPES. Tonight is my night, baby! (Or to be accurate, Saturday night is my bits and pieces over the next few days, baby.) Bring on the Strictly Come Dancing Halloween Special! The dancers are ready and dressed to kill! Or to put it another way, like death warmed up. Literally.

First up, Pamela and James, who bring on a piece of supportive VT from Robin Williams in their intro footage. Trump card! We watch James teasing Pamela and once again I am forced to reflect on how Strictly makes me like people I don't like. I didn't like Camilla until she danced with Tom. I didn't like Ola until she danced with Chris. And now I am starting to like James. Note: Tom and Chris both won.

They are dancing a jive, for which James has dressed as the devil and Pamela as the fiery flames of hell (but through the medium of DANCE. And sequins.) It's a nice jive, with good little kicks and great turns, but I don't like what Pamela is doing with her arms. They're ineffectually up by her sides and remind me of the wings on an oven-ready chicken.

Damning with faint praise from the judges. Craig specifies that he didn't like the kicks. I won't be getting that judging gig any time soon. No mention of the arms, or chickens.

Scores, on little pumpkin scorecards: 6, 7, 7, 7 - I would have gone with a 7.

Next up, Tina and Jared, dancing an Argentine tango. I am excited. It's my favourite dance, and usually they make us wait until the semi-final. Jared is very flirty in the VT. I like flirty Jared. Not sure Tina does.

Tina is dressed as the zombie version of Olivia Newton John's "sexy" final outfit (and fright wig) in Grease. Why has nobody ever thought of doing a zombie version of Grease before? Too late suckers, I've copyrighted the idea.

It's great choreography, intensely performed and Tina does well with all the leg flicks and jumps, but she still can't dance in some fundamental way. Her transitions are awful, she just sort of walks around. I can't be bothered to check, but I suspect I have written "she just sort of walks around" in every Tina review except for that week when she got chicken pox. Another mention of chicken. Am I hungry?

Alesha is a very talkative judge tonight. Bruno accidentally punches her. Hmmm. Craig mentions Olivia Newton John. Fashion-wise we are on the same page at least. And then he starts talking about the solar plexus and loses me again.

Scores: 6, 8, 7, 7 - would have been another 7 from me too.

Now it's Kara and Artem. He is dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. I am not convinced this is a good thing. According to the VT, they will also be dancing (a Paso Doble) to the Phantom of the Opera. I am even less convinced that this is a good thing. They are having a miserable time in training and they don't know why. But I know why. They decide to cheer themselves up by going to see - guess what? It won't work, kids.

There is so much dry ice that I can barely see the dance. Once the pea souper clears, it's good - Kara is a lovely, elegant dancer, and this is spirited (no pun intended). But I am fatally distracted by the question of whether they are At It. I don't think they are, but Why Miss Jones is so convinced. I know what you're thinking, I was wrong about Ali and Brian, but they conveniently broke up straight after the run of their West End show finished, so I'm not sure I was *that* wrong.

Bruno reckons it was oozing with drama and passion. Craig says it finally had some passion. Len: "A fire". Maybe I am wrong after all. My sexy judgment is impaired! I blame the clocks going back. Alesha says nothing. That'll learn her.

Scores: 9, 9, 10, 9. Me, I say 9. (This is a slight cheat. I originally said 8, but having watched the rest of the episode I have gone back and changed it. I know when I am wrong. Except when I am right and all of you are wrong.)

In the link, I am increasingly mesmerised by Tess's grotesque zigzag belt. It's oddly reminiscent of Thundercats. Can I get a graphic? Yes I can:



Now it's Patsy and Robin. They are still in, apparently. This can only mean one thing: at some point soon, someone will call her "the dark horse of this competition."

They are doing the jive, and Robin begins the dance spreadeagled on a mortician's slab while Patsy lurks behind some test tubes. That's VERY jive. And they are DEFINITELY going to be dancing to The Monster Mash. - Yes they are! Glad to see some of my critical faculties are intact, even if only in the clothes and music areas. Anyway, it's very silly and quite fun. In fact there are bits that I love. Like when Robin puts his head between Patsy's boobs and shakes it from side to side in what I believe - and please correct me, as I fear I may be veering from the path here - is known as a numnumnumnumnum. I wonder if this is a recognised ballroom move?

The judges seem to be being nice, but I am distracted (I am spending a lot of this episode being distracted) by Patsy's eye make-up, which is an abomination. Imagine trying to do a Bollywood look but all you have is a black marker pen.

Scores: 7, 8, 8, 8 - and a 7 from me.

Next are Felicity and Vincent, whose problems learning the Viennese Waltz lead in no logical way to the arrival of the cutest Strictly guest appearance in the history of training footage: Vincent's adorable tiny son. Vote! Vote to keep in Vincent son! Then he can be a prop in their showdance in the final.

For once I actually like the gimmicky stuff at the start - Felicity and Vincent at the top of the stairs, spinning around each other wearing lengthy hooded capes and Viennese masks - but even if you hadn't seen the VT it's obvious that Felicity hates this dance: she does her best but she staggers dizzily - bad, bad feet. This, as they say, is not her week. Though I can't help but notice that she has the best dress yet again, scarlet with a gold back, and I wonder if it's because she's lovely to the costumiers, or a control freak diva, or if they have a list in the design room with one word beside each name so Ola must always be SLUTTY while Felicity is CLASSY.

Len complains about the gimmicky stuff at the beginning, as if he has no idea that the production team have told all the pro dancers to choreograph these bits in to keep ratings up. Bruno compares it to the Da Vinci Code, though I think he means it in a nice way, rather than interminable, repetitive, and with many references to agonising tortures. When they go to the reaction shot of Felicity I have a Patsy moment: her eyebrow adornments appear to have been done with Tippex. Everyone aside from Len likes the opening sequence, take note choreographers: you can do it without being naff.

Scores: 6, 7, 6, 7 and a 6 from me.

Now it's Jimi and Flavia. Jimi is very excited because they are dancing a Paso to Thriller, and Michael Jackson is his hero, cue lots of pictures of Jimi as a kid in Michael Jackson outfits, his mum giving another charming interview - I love Jimi's, sorry, James's mum - and one terrible, terrible wig. I heart Jimi, I do.

They are, of course, dressed like zombies, and the producers break out the dry ice again, which means that I can barely see the first half of the dance. Eventually I witness enough and I don't like what I see. It looks to be like a rumba on steroids. The best thing about it is Jimi's contact lenses. The contact lenses should never be the best thing about a dance: even I know that.

But what do I know? The judges love it. Much is made of Jimi's shapes. Apparently, they are good.

What are Jimi's scores? I do not know because at his point I paused in my blogging duties, and my computer didn't save them. I seem to remember they were crazy high, like 8s, whereas I was thinking more in the vicinity of a 6.

Michelle and Brendan up next. Brendan is dressed as Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror and is astonishingly convincing, in fact I think I prefer him in this guise. Michelle is dressed as a sexy festive pumpkin. They dance the Time Warp, and it is insane and brilliant, right up until the bit where they actually have to do the Time Warp, when it is suddenly a bit rubbish. I did like the "jump to the left" though.

Bruce and Craig love it - Craig calls it lobotomised "in a good way" - but there's an almighty bust-up between Brendan and Len over the Time Warp bit. Brendan is heard protesting that it only lasted 20 seconds, and he was careful to time it, which makes me, the Strictly nerd, all excited because it would seem to suggest that every dance is allowed exactly 20 seconds of stupid faffing, just usually they put it at the beginning. Which explains a lot. Also, in that case, Len really should stop marking them down for it.

Scores are 7, 6, 8, 8, and an 8 from me even though Michelle balls up the footwork, because I want to encourage her in her pumpkin-based lunacy.

Now it's Gavin and Katya. I am starting to love Gavin all over again, ever since I saw him on ITT and when asked what he most misses when he goes on holiday, his reply was a particularly flattering mirror in his house. He reminds me of a small, obsessive child, like my nephew who insisted on wearing a pirate outfit complete with mask for about a year and went to bed every night with whatever kitchen implement had been acting as his sword that day. Bless.

For their paso, Gavin is dancing topless. Katya's concession to Halloween is to flash a pair of red knickers underneath her white dress, in a disconcertingly sexy moment which rather sets the tone for the whole dance. Particularly, as it turns out, the bit where Gavin rips off Katya's dress leaving only the red knickers (leotard, as it turns out) behind. With all this flesh on show it is only with some effort that I can report that this actually seems to be quite good. For Gavin.

Bruno says that Gavin should "reveal more of himself". I don't think this would be a very good idea.

Scores: 5, 7, 7, 7 and a 6 from me.

In Ssssscott and Natalie's VT, Ssssscott reveals that he has a cold and talks about mucus. Thus, for the duration of their dance, all I can think of is mucus. It's a waltz, so Sssscott's main job is to go round and round. He goes round and round well, but still - MUCUS.

I have no idea what the judges say.

Scores: 9, 10, 10, 10 and a 9 from me. MUCUS.

Now it's time for Ann and Anton. They are dancing a Paso to Wild Thing! Who is the wild thing in this scenario? Ann? Oh god no, please. Anton? No, that's worse. It's rather boring (by which I mean terminally done) for the most part, until the very end when Anton starts dragging Ann around the floor in the trademark "Sergeant" manoeuvre and spinning her round in circles. She does do the steps, though.

The judges are baffled at the force of Ann. Alesha very funnily says that Ann was like an appliance - a hoover that Anton drags around - and then Bruce says that was his joke from rehearsal. Miaow.

Scores: 2, 5, 5, 4 and a 3 from me.

Finally, Matt and Aliona. In the VT they do a sexy photoshoot involving Matt lying around in knee boots (and other clothing) amongst bales of hay, and I abandon all pretence of being impartial.

They are dancing an Argentine tango, which, as mentioned, is my favourite dance, but they seem to have replaced a lot of the Argentine tango with lifts - amazing lifts, well-executed lifts, but I would have liked more burning glances and intense leg-interweaving. I think, in general, Aliona's choreography is a bit naff. Astonishing for a woman with pink hair.

Scores: 8, 8, 9, 9 and I can't resist giving them a 9 too. You can't blame Matt for Aliona's choreography. You can tell they are disappointed with the 8s, what with all the 10s flying around the place.

As for the result, Tina went home, so I guess we'll never know whether she could have learned to dance, or would just have walked around a bit all the way to the final.

Single Father (certified spoiler-lite)

Don't worry, when I'm not in "grief" make-up these eye-bags disappear.

Before we begin, I should assure you that while I may be biased in favour of David Tennant, I am not insane. I couldn't sit through the dreadful Secret Smile ("whaaat?") and I haven't even attempted St Trinians 2. So you can trust me when I tell you that Secret Father, for all that it looked like being a hideous TV film of the week-style melodrama, was actually very good.

The idea is this: ludicrously fertile photographer David Tennant's wife dies in an elegantly-filmed slow-motion collision between her bicycle and a police car, and he is left to bring up their three children, plus one from his previous relationship and one from hers, with various interfering family members, ex-wives and nubile blonde primary school teachers (Suranne Jones) for help / hindrance. Tennant gets to grieve, and be saintly, and not so saintly, and get his kit off, and in an astonishing achievement from the people in make-up look pasty and gaunt and out-sexied by silver fox rival Rupert Graves, who is richer, and whose wife is not dead but French.

Obviously this series was riddled with potential perils. The key and most obvious bullet dodged was in the casting of the kids, who far from being cloyingly cute were surprisingly realistic and annoying in the way real kids are. The most astonishing (and adorable) was little Evie, played by Millie Innes, whose brilliantly convincing performance is only partly explained by the fact that the tiny actress is actually 10 years old. The most significant child plot-wise was 15-year-old Lucy (Natasha Watson) who looked like an actual 15-year-old, not a stage school siren, all skinny gangly limbs, braces and hangdog expression, veering from grown-up to childish in an instant. Plus many of the child-centred scenes turned on recognisable everyday annoyances (nobody wants to eat toast, everybody's got nits) and there was nary a door-slamming "I HATE YOU and you're NOT MY REAL DAD and I WISH MUM WAS HERE" scene to be had.

The other risk avoided was that none of the characters was too nasty or too nice. Tennant neglected his eldest daughter and lost his rag with the rest of the kids enough not to be a super-dad, dead wife's sister Anna was a pain in the bum but came through in the end, Jones's boyfriend was a prick but not a monster, Graves was obnoxiously arrogant but not an ogre, and so on. Even the dead wife had some bitch-like tendencies hidden away. Jones was maybe a little too angelic, but then banging your dead mate's bloke behind your boyfriend's back takes the edge off that a bit. And Anna's solicitor husband Mark Heap [not Eldon, as I wrote in first draft - thanks for the spot, Medium Rob!] was a touch too Mark Heap for my tastes - I'm bumbling! I'm warm-hearted! I like dogs! - but that probably depends on your pre-existing feelings about Mark Heap and whether you watch 'Lark Rise to Candleford'. The dialogue and direction were pleasingly naturalistic which helped the characters come across as believable human beings, by no means a given, even in good TV drama.

The story steered a well-judged course between the predictable and the surprising without veering too far into implausible - I certainly hadn't anticipated the direction that the "looking for Lucy's real dad" storyline would take, and there was a nice trail of false leads over how the Tennant / Jones romance would finally come out. Personally the final revelation was one step too far for me, but I suppose it was in keeping with the rest of the show. Actually the plot was probably the least interesting thing about the programme - my main enjoyment came from watching the interactions between the various characters and I didn't really care that much where it was all heading. This was a by-product, I suppose, of it being fairly underplayed, which I liked - overall it was far less sentimental than I expected, so that even if I did spend the entire first episode sobbing, I didn't feel I had been cynically manipulated into it a la Titanic / Beaches / etc.

Just one thing - was I alone is spending the bulk of the series wondering about property prices in Glasgow versus salaries of jobbing photographers / primary school teachers? David Tennant spends much of the time within his huge several-storied stone house with its own driveway and large mature garden alluding to how poor he is, before nipping over to his teacher girlfriend's exquisite architect-designed single storied wood and glass clad home for a spot of afternoon delight. I mean, I know he drives a Volvo, but come ON.

(Oh and just one other thing - anybody else from the DT-nerd sorority notice that the 'looking at camera on haybales' publicity still used in the press release was not actually from the series at all?)

IntBloPoMo

After my complaints about NaNoWriMo, I was challenged by Alicey in the comments to take part in NaBloPoMo, or 'National Blog Posting Month'. All these Nas refer to the nation of the USA, so really I should be talking about IntBloPoMo - it's kind of like the reverse of the "World" Series. Anyway the idea of Na/IntBloPoMo is that I will be posting on my blog every day for the whole of the month of November. Regular readers will know that this won't come easily to me, precisely because it is impossible to be a regular reader of this blog, as I post so very irregularly. But anyway, the challenge is on. At least thirty blog posts this month! Reader, I am spoiling you.

Of course I haven't promised that all of my IntBloPoMo blog posts will be interesting.

Some of them will be quite dull.

Like this one.

See you back here tomorrow...

Music Monday: NaNoWriMoSpecial

So here's the thing. I don't like NaNoWriMo. In fact I HATE NaNoWriMo. NaNoWriMo is 'National Novel Writing Month' in which would-be writers are encouraged to pen their novels in one month, on the basis that a couple of thousand words a day for thirty days will get you a nice first draft. Which is true.

What is also true is that a couple of thousand words a day for thirty days in a row without repetition, hesitation or (the killer, this) deviation is bloody difficult. Very few people can toss off a novel in a month. Fewer still can write a good novel, even a good draft, in a month. Ian Rankin claims to be able to do so, Alexander McCall Smith also. You may have your own opinions on the talents of these writers, but it shouldn't be overlooked that they are both massive best-selling millionaires, which does imply some adeptness at what they do, in contrast with those of us (almost all other writers) who are not massive best-selling millionaires, which may (or may not) imply that we find writing a bit harder. They also both write genre novels (ie, in a non-judgmental sense, formulaic) with worlds and characters that they have already devised. In sum, I don't think that Rankin and McCall Smith are typical of most writers.

At the moment I am almost two years into writing my second novel. I have been working hard on it. I really don't like being told that my two years of my job can be done in a month. I am guessing that whatever your work is, you would also not enjoy a national 'your job here' month, which implied that two years of your work could be done in a month if you just applied yourself a bit harder. It makes me feel inadequate. And jealous. Definitely jealous.

So yes, let's encourage people to write - I [mostly] love writing, I love the idea that other people can get the same joy I [sometimes] get from writing - but let's not spread the idea that writing a novel is easy. Quite aside from anything, the difficult reality is likely to put off the very people that NaNoWriMo is trying to reach.

Oh, and as it's Music Monday...