On loo books

Officially, I disapprove of loo books (books published with the primary intention of providing entertainment for those in the process of defecation). When I am in bookshops I disdain their table and their shiny-covered hardbacks as purveyors of overpriced filler, as I sweep past on the way to the Proper Books Shelves. I sigh at their predictable proliferation around Christmas-time, wishing people would buy Real Books (ie my book) for their loved ones instead.

Unofficially, I have a stack of them in my loo. Don't you? And I have to say my selection is strikingly good, so I thought I'd share them with you (not literally, I'd rather you didn't all come round to use the loo).

In no particular order:

Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives, by David Eagleman
Exactly as the subtitle tells you, this comprises forty very short stories about what might just happen to you after you die. So, for example, story one: "In the afterlife you relive all your experiences, but this time with the events reshuffled into a new group order: all the moments that share a quality are grouped together. You spend two months driving the street in front of your house, seven months having sex." And so on. It is a work or genius, irritating genius, given that the author is also a neuroscientist. You should not be able to be this good at two things. (Maybe he is a shit neuroscientist.) Loo rating compromised by the stories being a bit too long. This is really one for extended trips, when nobody is waiting outside for their turn.

100 Facts about Pandas, by David O'Doherty, Claudia O'Doherty & Mike Ahern
Panda facts include: "36: Since Louis XIV proclaimed panda meat to be 'juicier than lobster and tastier than peacock', it has become tradition for the departing French heads of state to be served panda as their final meal. President Jacques Chirac enraged animal protection groups when he held four rehearsal diners before his one official panda meal. Chirac dismissed the protests, saying his roux chef 'needed to get the sauce right'." Loo rating high: only a few seconds per entry, and pretty pictures too.

Dr. Johnson's Dictionary of Modern Life: Survey, Definition and Justify'd Lampoonery of Divers Contemporary Phenomena, from "Top Gear" Unto Twitter
By Book Swap alumnus Tom Morton! The title of the book is longer than most of the entries, which savvy tweeters will already be familiar with (follow @drsamueljohnson) but for the uninitiated: "ABBA: n. four Quaterns of Vikings most obvious in Rhyming Couplets; yet most mysterious as to who is the FIT ONE". Loo rating: bonus points for including longer themed disquisitions on topics including C is for Celebrity or E is for England, so that loo visitors may adapt length according to need.

Mistakes in the Background, by Laura Dockrill
Picked this one up at Book Swap. I always like to have some poetry in the loo; makes me feel sophisticated, and also means that I might read some poetry maybe. I don't really read poetry. I haven't read any of this. Sorry Laura. But I love the cover, and it has free stickers. Loo rating: unknown.

Would You Rather...: Over 200 Absolutely Absurd Dilemmas to Ponder, by Juston Heimberg & David Gomberg
Given to me by my sister in honour of our childhood game where she'd invent horrible 'would you rather' dilemmas for me. These are excellent, although rely slightly too heavily on American cultural references for the average British punter. Loo rating: quick to read, but you may be stuck in the bathroom for hours trying to decide on: "Would you rather: have a variety of dyslexia where anything you try to read becomes a page from 'Yes, I Can', the story of Sammy David Jr OR have a bizarre sleep disorder where you always wake up on a train to New Orleans?"

Venn That Tune: Bringing the Poetry of Maths to the Magic of Pop! by Andrew Viner
You're going to need a visual aid for this one:


Loo rating: high, but you might accidentally read the entire book in one sitting, as it were.

They Call Me Naughty Lola: The London Review of Books Personal Ads: A Reader, edited by David Rose
Not only my favourite loo book but one of my favourite books of any variety. A friend of mine once emerged from my bathroom after quite some time and announced: 'You have a loo trap in there.' She meant this book. "You're a brunette, 6', long legs, 25-30, intelligent, articulate and drop-dead gorgeous. I, on the other hand, am 4'10", have the looks of Herve Villechaize and carry an odour of wheat. No returns and no refunds at box no. 3321." (In the footnotes, the book helpfully gives a potted biography of Herve Villechaize, aka Nick Nack from The Man with the Golden Gun, for those unfamiliar with his work.) Loo rating: unbeatable.

The Frozen Thames, by Helen Humphreys
A gorgeous little book I picked up when touring Gods Behaving Badly in Canada, it comprises a series of short stories set on those occasions when the Thames froze over completely. Loo rating low: they're really too long to read on the loo, and I should move this book to somewhere it will be better appreciated. Like the bath.

Binky's Guide to Love: A Little Book of Hell by Matt Groening
Time for another visual aid:


Loo rating: excellent. Emerge not only physically relieved, but spiritually cleansed of all romantic bitterness.

And there we have it. An exceptional selection, I'm sure you'll agree. What books do you have in your loo?

Music Monday: Miliband special

So for one selfish reason at least I am glad that Ed Miliband won, because it gives my 'time I met him at a barbecue' anecdote so much more currency. Maybe I should save it until he's Prime Minister, but seeing as that's not exactly guaranteed, I will tell it now. It was around the time that Gordon Brown took over from Blair, but before we all hated Gordon; we were in Hay on Wye; he had a stinking cold.

Him: Hi, I'm Ed.
Me: Hi Ed. So what do you do?

(I paraphrase. We may have discussed the sausages and the quality of literary entertainment on offer first.)

Him: I'm an MP.
Me: Really? That must be very interesting. God, it's hard becoming an MP isn't it? How did you manage to get selected for your seat?
Him: I work very closely with Gordon Brown.

(Hear that sound? It's the sound of a penny not dropping.)

Me: Oh, now is a good time to be on Team Gordon. I like Gordon Brown. He reminds me of my dad.

(Gordon Brown does not remind me of my dad. They both have the same colour hair and that's about it.)

Him: So what do you do?
Me: I'm an author.
Him: I never read fiction.

(I like to think he said this so that he, too, would have contributed something idiotic to the conversation.)

Me: Oh well you should read my book anyway. In fact, what you should do is, when you have constituency surgeries in - where's your constituency?
Him: Doncaster.
Me: Is that in the north? Anyway, when you have constituency surgeries in Doncaster, you should always be reading Gods Behaving Badly when people come in, and be laughing loudly, and then put it cover side up on your desk and wipe your eyes and say "That's such a funny book. What can I do for you?"
Him: Please excuse me. I need to go to the loo now.

I have seen Ed Miliband in Hay on Wye on a number of occasions since, and every single time, I have hidden.

This is the song that I got stuck in my head when the leadership was announced. It is not by the Steve Miller Band but I'm glad to see that joke's still trucking along. No visuals, sadly all the ones where you can see the sequence from Cabaret have had their embedding disabled.

Music Monday

Yes yes yes. I know everyone's been talking about Janelle Monae for months. I have been busy.

Strictlywatch 2010: the dancers are announced!

Hear ye, hear ye. This was going to be a properly put together (and, for that matter, proof-read - be forgiving) Strictly post with pictures and links and stuff, but I'm going to be late for the cinema if I don't leave right now. Please feel free to imagine what I'd say about excitement and sequins and the fact that Brucie is still alive, and insert it here.

Ann Widdecombe - MP and the first Strictly contestant who I have actually met. I interviewed her for a programme on the history of Christianity which I worked on back in my TV days. Her office is lined with two sets of pictures - a bunch of Garfield cartoons along the lines of "I'm not fat, I'm under-tall", and a series of photographs of aborted foetuses. She had written five novels - who knew? I would be neither surprised nor unhappy to see her get knocked out pretty quickly.

Felicity Kendal - Actress. Love her. Will not hear a word against her. Kendall for the win! I don't think I'm alone in feeling this way, which may keep her in for a while, but anyone under the age of 30 might struggle to know who she is, unless they recognise her from Doctor Who.

Gavin Henson - Surely a front runner: plays rugby, is hot. His split from Charlotte Church may enhance his chances as this way she won't come and warble on the results show and put people off, not unless they totally want to fuck with his head that is (it's a possibility).

Goldie - Drum n Bass musician. Was good on Maestro, the underrated celebrity conducting show. Possible dark horse, possible unmoving lump of gold-plated concrete, who can say?

Jimi Mistry - Dr Gay Fun-seeker on Eastenders! And successful Hollywood actor etc. I'm trying to remember his Bollywood moves in not-terribly-good porn satire The Guru. The fact that I've forgotten bodes reasonably well. I'd remember horror, surely.

Kara Tointon - Dawn from Eastenders apparently. Also apparently lots of people still watch Eastenders. According to the BBC site she has already won Strictly once, albeit the Sport Relief version, partnering Mark Ramprakash. As this presumably indicates that she can dance, file her under "the really good one who is knocked out three weeks before the end because girl voters suspect her of being bitch or smug".

Matt Baker - former BBC presenter, this year's Gethyn / Chris: will do well. Even if he wasn't a former gymnastics champion, which he is. He can do backflips, and will do backflips, and Len will hate it. The public won't.

Michelle Williams - not the rather serious Hollywood actress who used to be in Dawson's Creek, but the Destiny's Child singer. Will be knocked out immediately for being too naturally gifted and American.

Pamela Stevenson - Billy Connelly's wife, former comedian, now psychologist. Analyses celebs for TV and normal people (normal people with psychological problems, I mean) for The Guardian. I have no idea what she is doing here. Her relationship to fame could do with close scrutiny. Unless she's got magic dance legs I don't think she'll last long. I note the BBC describes her as a sexologist (??) who believes that dance and sex are intrinsically linked. Partnering Brendan, perhaps? Am properly excited by the thought of Billy Connelly on It Takes Two.

Patsy Kensit - not terribly good actress and singer who is likely to be a not terribly good dancer either.

Paul Daniels - magician, now mostly famous for Mrs Merton's quip to wife Debbie Magee "what first attracted you to millionaire Paul Daniels?" I loathe magic and therefore pray for a week one eviction. The world may comply.

Peter Shilton - England goalkeeper. That just suggests stiff to me.

Scott Maslen - Another Eastenders alumnus. Quite hot, it seems. Just saying.

Tina O'Brien - off Corrie! Probably obliged under BBC charter to have one after all those Eastenders stars. I get the feeling she's whatever the northern equivalent is of a loveable cockney sparrer and therefore will be forgiven for being able to dance. Even I like her, and I have never seen her say or do anything.

THUS my frontrunners, having never seen them dance: Gavin Henson, Matt Baker, Tina O'Brien.

Your thoughts?

Music Monday

A short Music Monday today. I've been finding myself singing this song a lot lately for obvious reasons, and it reminded me how fantastic the whole of the Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid soundtrack is (also check out the brilliant 'South American Getaway'), and thence how fantastic the whole of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is, one of my favourite films for a long time and probably only not now because it's so long since I've watched it, and so how I absolutely must watch it again. But in the meantime, here's the classic bicycle scene with Paul Newman and Katharine Ross looking impossibly young and beautiful:



Oh screw it, here's 'South American Getaway' as well:

Events, Dear Girl, Events

Harold Macmillan: would be attending if he hadn't died in 1986.

It is ALL GO in the heady world of events performed at by me. You'd almost think I had a new book out! But I don't.

But let's not allow that to interfere with our excitement!

On MONDAY SEPTEMBER 13TH I will be appearing at the soon-to-be-renamed TO HELL WITH THE LIGHTHOUSE night, featuring a special launch of the new FAT QUARTER magazine (hmm, really not sure where I'm going with all these caps - but hey, I've started so I'll finish) and you can find all the details HERE. Other readers are ANJALI JOSEPH and JEAN HANNAH EDELSTEIN and the thing that I should have saved the caps for is that IN A FIT OF INSANITY I HAVE AGREED TO READ FROM MY NEW NOVEL, YOU KNOW, THE ONE I HAVEN'T FINISHED YET OR EVEN GIVEN A NAME TO. It's a pretty major exclusive seeing as the only people to have seen a word of this are my agent, my UK and Canadian publishers, and one friend, and if you all hate it, well, I could have a total meltdown as I watch two years' work goes down the tubes. So no pressure there, then. All this will be taking place at PETER PARKER'S ROCK'N'ROLL CLUB, Denmark Street WC2H 8LP at 7.30pm. Do I know anything about Peter Parker's Rock'n'Roll Club? No. Does it sound cool? HELL TO THE YEAH.

THEN, on THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 16TH is the FIRESTATION BOOKSWAP at the Windsor Firestation, details HERE. Apparently there is some dispute as to whether "bookswap" is all one word. IT IS. Even if I am the only person who says so. As ever I will be co-hosting with SCOTT PACK but FAR MORE EXCITINGLY THAN THAT our guests this month are TIM COATES, who used to head up Waterstones and is now a(n) historian, and who I invited to take part because I did an event with him a few months ago and he was so incredibly interesting that I was SLACK-JAWED WITH AMAZEMENT - how often am I slack-jawed for any reason? Why, NEVER. And TOM MORTON aka @DRSAMUELJOHNSON on Twitter. Non-Twitterers, you can still read Tom Morton aka Dr J's twitterings by going to www.twitter.com/drsamueljohnson and I'm fairly sure that you will find him so funny that you will either JOIN TWITTER and go around saying to people YOU KNOW, I NEVER USED TO UNDERSTAND THE POINT OF TWITTER, BUT NOW I DO, or BUY HIS BOOK or - radical suggestion - COME TO THE BOOKSWAP. Or ALL THREE.

Is that enough? IT'S NOT ENOUGH. On Monday September 27th we are doing ANOTHER BOOKSWAP. I don't know where. It's just in my diary. But I think it's at the Independent Bookseller's conference in Warwick, which you may not attend, UNLESS YOU ARE AN INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLER.

AND THEN on Thursday September 30th I am doing a STORYTELLING EVENT in which I will be TELLING A STORY and also providing the words for some FICTIONAL LETTERS to be read by people OTHER THAN ME. This event is called TALL TALES and takes place at the GOOD SHIP in KILBURN and I am NOT REMOTELY SURE HOW YOU CAN ARRANGE TO COME TO THIS, it is arranged by ROBERT HUDSON, go and bother him about it, why don't you.

On October 1st, I will be staying in and watching television.

THAT IS ALL.

Music Monday: Crush Special

There's not been a lot of talk of David Tennant round these parts of late. Fear not, I would still leap onto him like a kitten up curtains given even the slightest hint of a chance, but in terms of crush maintenance it has been tricky. David has been doing a lot of resting since his stint as Doctor Who, and when he hasn't been resting, he has been doing voiceovers for Tesco and filming BBC1 dramas for which advance stills look like this -



A BBC1 drama about a widowed dad, set at a farm show with people dressed in battle reenactment costumes, carrying fishing rods and in mid-1990s indie clobber in the background? It's just as well I love you David. Love is ever forgiving. Ever forgiving. Even so, I'd really prefer it if you didn't turn into the male Sarah Lancashire.

And then there's Michael Cera. Now I've had a Michael Cera thing since Superbad, and I have to be very careful around underage-era Arrested Development DVDs, but last week I went to see Scott Pilgrim - which is fabulous, incidentally, in an I-wish-I-was-still-a-teenager-and-could-dye-my-hair-blue-without-looking-like-an-eejit way - but for Michael Cera I felt nothing, in the trouser department anyway. Nada. In fact my affections were far more taken by Kieran Culkin as his flatmate Wallace. That's Kieran Culkin, brother of Macauley, as his gay flatmate, Wallace. Au revoir Michael, I guess all good things come to an end.

Just as well I have backup, really. Here's Benedict "Sherlock" Cumberbatch doing his best to make me fancy the suit off both him and DT (taking one for the team, Ben - nice, very nice):



And then there's new arrival Joseph Gordon-Levitt. JGL is 29 and has been hovering on the brink of cute for quite some time, being hilarious but underage and bad of hair in Third Rock from the Sun, and then dorky-cute and standing too close to Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You, and then intense-cute in I-didn't-like-it-as-much-as-I-was-told to Brick. But THEN I saw him in Inception with his hair sorted out, stealing a kiss off Ellen Page and doing exceedingly cool things in zero gravity. And THEN THEN there was this in (500) Days of Summer - aha - did you wonder when the music was going to kick in?



OK so full disclosure: that was Hall & Oates, and actually I wanted the bit when he sings 'Here Comes Your Man' in the karaoke bar, but Youtube didn't have it, and I started this out as a musical post, and that's an incredibly cute dance sequence even if the fringe was an error, but the clothes were just right, and also did I mention cuteness, and SIGH, and I should do some work now.

This was just a public service announcement to let you know my hormones are in full working order. There may be more coherent posts later in the week.

In which I am patronised by a soup

Good morning! Today I am mostly: annoyed by soup.

Now, when I buy soup (and I am aware that it would be cheaper and more fulfilling to make my own: this too is an annoyance, but not the main one) I only really need to know two things about it: what's in it, and how long it takes to heat it up in the microwave. Soups have been providing this information since time immemorial (or perhaps since the invention of the domestic microwave oven in 1967), and I'm not exactly sure when they got bored of providing it in the traditional manner. But they have.

Thus to today's soup, a Tuscan Chicken and Orzo from Glorious Soups. I'm not sure who you think the market is for a Tuscan Chicken and Orzo soup, but I suspect it is someone quite middle class and pretentious who likes to think they are eating a sophisticated soup tailored for their sophisticated palate. Me, in other words. I therefore am the target audience for the following:

I've been carefully checked for bones, but you might still find a few small ones

and

I contain celery and gluten. I've been known to hang around near nuts, peanuts and sesame seeds and I may contain them as well

and

Freezing me? best do it right now and eat me within a month

and most egregious of all

Ouch! My pot can get a bit wobbly when it's hot, so stand me on a plate when you're reheating and stirring, and mind your fingers when you pick me up

(although actually I am put off my soup even more by

Made in the UK with three spoonfuls of love and a pinch of gusto

but it doesn't count because it's not in the sodding first person. And how many calories in a spoonful of love, eh? Tell me that.)

I am 34 years old. I left nursery school 30 years ago and that was the last time anyone saw fit to speak to me in this stupid, affected, patronising voice. And on that occasion it was a human being, not a fucking soup.

A message to the people of Glorious soups: I want to EAT the soup, not make friends with it. And in any case, when I'm hanging out with my friends (or "chilling", as in Let's chill. Keep me in the fridge) they very rarely exhort me to take off my lid and stand me on a plate in the microwave and make sure I'm nice and hot before serving. Because that would be WRONG. And a bit kinky.

[UPDATE: The soup was delicious. I don't know if that makes it more annoying or less.]

All of which reminds me of that brilliant scene in Restaurant at the End of the Universe, by the late, great, and apparently prophetic, Douglas Adams, when Arthur Dent meets the cow that is soon going to be his dinner:

A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox's table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

"Good evening," it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, "I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?" It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters into a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.

Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

"Something off the shoulder perhaps?" suggested the animal, "Braised in a white wine sauce?"

"Er, your shoulder?" said Arthur in a horrified whisper.

"But naturally my shoulder, sir," mooed the animal contentedly, "nobody else's is mine to offer."

Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively.

"Or the rump is very good," murmured the animal. "I've been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there's a lot of good meat there." It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

"Or a casserole of me perhaps?" it added.

"You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?" whispered Trillian to Ford.

"Me?" said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, "I don't mean anything."

"That's absolutely horrible," exclaimed Arthur, "the most revolting thing I've ever heard."

"What's the problem Earthman?" said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal's enormous rump.

"I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing here inviting me to," said Arthur, "it's heartless."

"Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten," said Zaphod.

"That's not the point," Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he said, "maybe it is the point. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it now. I'll just ... er ..."

The Universe raged about him in its death throes.

"I think I'll just have a green salad," he muttered.

"May I urge you to consider my liver?" asked the animal, "it must be very rich and tender by now, I've been force-feeding myself for months."

"A green salad," said Arthur emphatically.

"A green salad?" said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.

"Are you going to tell me," said Arthur, "that I shouldn't have green salad?"

"Well," said the animal, "I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am."

It managed a very slight bow.

"Glass of water please," said Arthur.

"Look," said Zaphod, "we want to eat, we don't want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare steaks please, and hurry. We haven't eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years."

The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle.

"A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good," it said, "I'll just nip off and shoot myself."

He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur.

"Don't worry, sir," he said, "I'll be very humane."

Musical bookswap on a Monday

And why not? It's my blog.

I am SO BLOODY EXCITED about the Firestation Bookswap on Thursday. Here are some reasons you might want to get excited too:

1. It's the bookswap's first birthday! I might wear that transparent dress I accidentally wore on the first night, to celebrate. Then again, I might not.

2. We have had some amazing guests on the bookswap so far but it'd be hard to beat this month's line-up. I read Matt Rudd's William's Progressin one sitting, despite being filled with horror at its hilarious revelations about the truth about having young babies - yes I will now never have children and it is all Matt Rudd's fault, but I will forgive anybody who makes me laugh. Get a taste of his inimitable sense of humour at his blog. And Andrew Kaufmann's All My Friends are Superheroesis the only book that has ever made me cry from happiness. I read it less than a year ago, have already given away four copies (including Scott's - sorry Scott, if I can remember who I gave it to I might be able to get it back) and I love love LOVE it. In fact if you buy a copy you can find a quote from me on the back confirming this very thing. His latest, The Waterproof Bible, is similarly strange and wonderful. Andrew is interviewed on the Beat website by bookswap alumnus Aliya Whiteley and I defy you to read the interview and not want to meet the man in person.

3. For one month only, the bookswap is FREE. Free I hear you say? Why yes -



Hilarious. Could that video be any more 90s? And when did you last think of the Soup Dragons?

No(t) shit, Sherlock

Plenty to say about Sherlock, and plenty is already being said. It was proper, everyone watched it, everyone's talking about it, "water cooler" etc etc telly. The first two episodes aired while I was on holiday and I didn't even know that they were going to be on; by the time I got home it was wall to wall on Twitter (people discuss things in places other than Twitter? I wouldn't know as am currently working in an empty office.) We're (almost) all agreed: it was clever and funny and brilliantly performed, and maybe we're not sure about the visible text messages and the blogging storyline (in a word: NO) but Benedict Cumberbatch is an extraordinarily-named genius who has made Holmes his own and I wonder if he turned down Doctor Who (that bit's just me).

One thing I have found interesting is the hormonal outpouring from female viewers including me: I've seen Cumberbatch in plenty of stuff before and surely he was never sexy (I mean, Stuart: A Life Backwards? Thanks no) only now suddenly he is wearing a long coat (see also Doctor Who - men, if you know what's good for you, buy a long coat) and his eyes look kind of oh yes, and he's got a very funny script and a decisive don't-give-a-toss demeanor and he's clever and YES I WOULD. But in addition, I don't know if it's the presence of a gay co-creator but there's so much man-on-man flirting going on: Holmes and Watson, Holmes and Lestrade, Holmes and Moriarty, Holmes and everybody basically. And we love it. By which I mean the ladies love it. There's a whole other piece to be written about how, in the era of the internet and slashfic a previously unknown well of female interest in men getting it on with other men has emerged (I just typoed 'me getting it on with other men', which is a whole other other piece) but I have a deadline so I can't write it right now (magazine editors: you know where to find me and my rates are very competitive). I'm not surprised to see this coming from Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat - both having done time in RTD-era Doctor Who which was the first bit of mainstream family telly to crank up the gay flirting and win. (Ironically, given the context, in Moffat-era Doctor Who the gay flirting has been excised, and Gatiss wrote the one really duff episode of the most recent season, the WW2 dalek one, and I wonder if he feels like his wings have been clipped.) I'm mentioning Doctor Who a lot, which is because Sherlock is really Doctor Who for grown-ups: in an updated version of a popular old classic, a mysterious, socially removed, insouciant but charming supergenius and his prosaic sidekick solve crimes involving monstrous villains and a hypereal version of the world. I guess it's not surprising that I adored it.

Any downside? Sadly yes. Sherlock's representation of women is awful. It's maybe unfortunate for Moffat and Gatiss that I watched it so soon after hearing about the Bechdel test. The Bechdel test? Why yes, it's a formula for figuring out whether the films have the most basic characterisation of women. Basically it works like this:

1. Is there more than one woman in it?
2. Do the women have names?
3. Do they talk to each other?
4. Do they talk to each other about anything other than men?

Try to think of some films that pass this test. Er... (I came up with Juno and all of the work of Mike Leigh, but it's much harder when you move past independent movies into the world of mainstream.)

TV is way ahead of the curve on this, with the likes of Mad Men or The West Wing proving that it is entirely possible to have a fantastic show with a wealth of intelligent female characters who have more on their minds than who they are or aren't shagging and what the men are up to. Sadly Sherlock isn't one of them. There are plenty of female characters, yes, but they never speak to each other, and if you think for a minute about why they don't speak to each other you'll realise it's because they'd have nothing to say, as they aren't really characters at all, just a bunch of girlfriends, victims and idiots whose lives revolve around the men. So Sarah, who exists to be Watson's girlfriend, and gets captured and shrieks; and Molly, who has a simpering crush on Holmes that renders her incapable of using the brain you assume she must have to be a qualified pathologist; and the policewoman who slags Holmes off but doesn't appear to have much by way of a job to do; and Mrs Hudson, who is Una Stubbs and therefore wonderful and very funny but a bit thick and makes the tea. And lots of dead people, and one criminal mastermind in episode two who actually isn't that much of a mastermind because she's just following orders from Moriarty.

Ah, Moriarty. When the envelope turned up in episode three with a woman's handwriting on it, I had high hopes that Moriarty would be a woman; making Holmes's evil nemesis female would have been a nice 21st century touch. Making Molly Moriarty, for example, would have been an excellent about-turn for her frankly insulting characterisation (oh no I'm going to cry because Holmes thinks I've put on weight!) But no, this is boys' games in a boys' world, and the girls are incidental. Which is not to say that Moriarty wasn't fantastic: like the rest of the male characters, he was bright, witty, sharp and very hot. In fact, the irony is that while female viewers have got the total horn watching all the sexy men running around being clever and cool, (straight) male viewers have some eye candy here and there, but nobody who is any fun or actually does anything (seriously: 'girl in car who looks at her phone a lot'?). So in a way, we women have the better deal. But in another way, we really don't.

Perhaps I'm being unfair, picking holes in something that is so much better than the British TV norm, but I don't mind a lazy attitude to women as much in something that's crap, because it's crap across the board; this is good, and so it should know better. End of mini-series report, then: brilliant as far as it goes, but when you get the recommission, if the women could actually talk to each other next time, that would be great.