Wednesday, March 20, 2024

"Steven, You're Really Something"

It has, this blogger is forced to admit, been a long time since a From The North bloggerisationism update was titled with a quote from a song by top 1980s Scottish popstars, The Associates (2011 if anyone is in the business of fact-checking this claim for accuracy). However, this time it is a particularly necessary conceit due to certain news which was become public over the last few days.
Yes, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, after quite literally years of constant furious denials, The Lord Thy God Steven Moffat (OBE) - fiend of this blog and From The North favourite - is, indeed, to make 'an explosive' return to the new series of Doctor Who.
Steven is reported as writing an episode due to be broadcast in Ncuti Gatwa's forthcoming first series as The Doctor, which will simultaneously premiere across BBC iPlayer in the UK and Disney+, where available (and being shown on BBC1, obviously) in May. It will, almost certainly, be the third episode which is, as yet, untitled. 'Steven has been lauded for his work on Doctor Who, first writing on the show when Russell T Davies revived it in 2005,' noted the BBC's more-or-less accurate, if a shade over-written, press release. 'He then went on to succeed as Showrunner, leading the show during the Matt Smith and Peter Capaldi eras. Steven is known for penning some of the most praised episodes in the shows history as well as creating one of the most terrifying and iconic monsters, The Weeping Angels.' The statement also includes a typically amusing quote from The Lad himself: 'Yes, okay, fair enough - apologies to everyone I've very slightly misled - I am in fact writing an episode of the series of Doctor Who. Exactly like I said I never would. What can I tell you? There was begging, there was pleading but finally Russell agreed to let me have another go - so long as I got out of his garden.'
Outside of Doctor Who, Steven has 'been celebrated' for co-writing and co-creating the multi-award winning series Sherlock. And lots of other stuff which the BBC didn't feel it worth mentioning. Now he's back, returning alongside Big Rusty, 'as he writes a whole new adventure for the upcoming season debuting this May. Directing the thrilling adventure will be BAFTA, EMMY and Golden Globe nominee Julie-Anne Robinson, who also kicks off the season by directing the episode that succeeds The Church On Ruby Road that aired at Christmas. Julie-Anne has previously directed some blockbuster television series including Bridgerton, Orange Is The New Black and Scandal and is now jumping on-board the TARDIS to front two of the episodes.'
Of course, rumours that Steven would be returning - if only to write the odd episode - to the BBC's popular, long-running family SF drama which he graced for a decade have been rife (as rumours usually are) almost since the moment of his mate Big Rusty's return to the franchise was announed in 2021. And, such rumours picked up considerable steam when various comments on The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter (by no-one you've ever heard of, admittedly) were reported by the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults) as 'news' a couple of weeks ago. Although, typically, most of what was contained in the spectacularly speculative article has, subsequently, turned out to be of the 'almost-but-not-quite' variety of truth (Steven most definitely is not writing Doctor Who's '2024 Christmas episode', for example. A case of someone picking up the wrong end of the stick and then beating about the bush with it, seemingly). Nevertheless, even despite the highly improbable source of this 'news', this blogger did feel it necessary to post a link to the Radio Times piece along with the following thoughts to his dear Facebook fiends: 'That very loud galumphing noise you hear is yer actual [Keith Telly Topping] doing The Happy Dance just in case anyone was wondering. (I am fully aware this is, as yet, unconfirmed and that it is a report in the Radio Times - which used to be run by adults and, as a source of truthful and accurate reportage, is usually about as reliable as a condom with a hole in it; nevertheless, even the vaguest possibility that there is a one-in-a-hundred chance it might be true is still cause for considerable celebration at The Stately Telly Topping Manor.' The blogger then felt it wise to add: 'Of course, Steven being Steven, he will now come in here and deny it, strenuously. That's his way. Over to you, Steven.'
And, what do you know, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, Steven (because that is his way) only went and did just exactly that. 'Oh dear Lord! It's the Radio Times website reporting Twitter. Engage your skepticism [sic],' he wrote with the epic comedy times that one would expect from the man who once created Joking Apart and Coupling. This blogger replied that he already had fully engaged his scepticism - particularly given the source(s) of the report - but, that said, what a great pity it was, just on this one occasion, if Radio Times actually had got something right for a change. This blogger then thanked Steven for his public clarification of the situation. But, that wasn't the end of it. Oh, deary-me no, dear blog fiends. Shortly afterwards, this blogger received a private message from Steven, whom he's known, off-and-on, for thirty years saying 'Don't be cross [but] I'm lying. I have been for about two years. Apparently it's all coming out on Friday, so shh till then. Christ this has been work!' This blogger, of course, immediately agreed to keep his bloody big trap shut until such times as the news embargo was lifted and noted that, in any case, it had given him a good excuse to 'be sneering about Radio Times' in public. 'Which is never a chore.'
Friday came and went, as did Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Thus is was that, when the actual news of the actual return was actually announced (on Tuesday), this blogger was able to reply to his dear Facebook fiends who wanted to know if this blogger had, in fact, been in on the deception all along. He did so with a reply that stated, no, Keith Telly Topping only found out about it a matter of days earlier, in a private communication from Steven and that this blogger had been asked to 'stay schtum until it is officially announced,' with this blogger concluding, 'I simply cannot lie any longer!' More than one of this blogger's Facebook fiends congratulated this blogger on his ability to keep the secret, noting 'I would have wasted no time in telling people.' Keith Telly Topping confessed: 'If I'd done that Steven would [have] had to kill me. With his thumbs. And, I didn't particularly want him to need to do that so, you know, keeping well-schtum was, clearly, the lesser of two evils.'
Also, to those who had, jokingly (well, mostly jokingly), expressed mild outrage at the fact they had been 'lied' to by Steven for so long over this matter, this blogger added: 'Being "economical with the actualite" whilst keeping a State Secret so great that it could, effectively, end civilisation as we know it, is allowed under Article Forty Seven of The Shadow Proclamation, so [Steven is] in the clear, I reckon.' 'I hope so,' this blogger's lovely fiend Jan replied. 'I wouldn't want him being hauled off by The Judoon and thrown in Space Jail. Although that might give him time to write.' This blogger, of course, being the greatest criminal mind since Perry Mason (allegedly) would have no trouble in putting up a defence of 'temporary insanity, caused by having to listen to people whinging about stuff, generally (and Doctor Who in particular).' There's not a jury in the land that would convict him. This blogger rests his case, dear blog readers.
One aspect of the BBC's press release did, seemingly, rather vex Keith Telly Topping's fiend and fellow BBC books author Peter, who said: 'Note also that no one writes for TV any more, they are involved in penning things.' This blogger added: 'I presume that, having already used the word "writing" earlier in the same sentence, the author [of the piece] didn't want to do a double-dip and use "written" here. Admittedly "scripting" would've been slightly less teeth-grinding than "penning" but, since this is reporting some good news for a change, I propose we do not kill him but, instead, let him live this day. What do you say?' There was, happily, some general agreement to his (with one notable exception). 'Does young Moff use a pen or is he, in fact, keyboarding things?' this blogger's fiend Guy queried. 'Or perhaps he drafts the entire scenario in modern dance before committing the final version? It's so imprecise, this is how rumours start.' If Steven hasn't dictated them 'to a semi-naked Filipino secretary whilst using the medium of interpretive dance previously he's going to now,' this blogger speculated. 'This is what happens when you give The Lad notions.' Another close personal fiend, Daniel, suggested - semi-seriously, one suspects - that 'Writers "pen", directors "helm" and producers "assume the mantle". Those are the rules!' Not in The Stately Telly Topping Manor they aren't this blogger bellowed in reply.
So yes, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, From The North's beloved Doctor Who will return for its latest eight-episode series on 1 May. The new series will see The Doctor and Ruby travel to Regency England and Abbey Road studio to watch The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) record some tunes destined for the toppermost of the poppermost. 'Expect fun and camp in equal, multidimensional measure,' it says here. 'At last, it's my great delight to unleash a whole new season of The Doctor and Ruby's adventures together,' said Big Rusty. 'Monsters! Chases! Villains! Mysteries! And a terrifying secret that's been spanning time and space for decades. Don't miss a second!' No fan with half-a-brain between their ears has any intention of doing so, Russell, fear thee not. Outside of the UK, Doctor Who will begin streaming on Friday 10 May at 7.00pm ET. The first two episodes will be available on BBC iPlayer at Midnight on Saturday and then, as usual, broadcast on BBC1 the same day, just before The Eurovision Song Contest. Subsequent episodes will be available on BBC iPlayer weekly from Midnight Saturdays, before broadcasting on a primetime BBC1 slot later that day.
Of course, inevitably (and, as reported with great wailing and gnashing of teeth by some smear of no importance at the Radio Times - which used to be run by adults), 'many Whovians have expressed their disappointment. They argue that the choice was made for US-based audiences and it undeniably was.' Firstly someone, please, give this wipe, Melissa Parker, a jolly good talking-to about how only numbskulls, pricks and scum use the hateful 'W' word. No Doctor Who fan with an pounce of dignity or self-respect (two words, admittedly, not often used in connection with Doctor Who fans) would be seen dead using it in anything other than an ironic sense. Social media has been filled with complaints (so, what else is new?) and, reportedly, even American fans have argued the move is 'disrespectful' to UK viewers. Most of the complaints, interestingly, have come from people who a) don't seem to understand how international time-zones work, b) appear not to have realised that when something is released on BBC iPlayer at Midnight you don't, necessarily, have to watch it there and then; you can go to bed, wake up early then next morning and watch it then, instead, c) not to have realised that it's also going to be broadcast, later that day, on BBC1 as usual and d) it's the Twenty First Century, hardly anyone watches television 'live' these days. Jesus, dear blog reader, it's a truism but it's one that needs repeating time and again. Doctor Who fans really are unique. Give them a reason to celebrate and some of them will find an excuse to turn it into a reason to whinge.
And, on that bombshell, we return to When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Six. 'Psst. Isn't that The Master?'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Seven. That ferret's only been and gone and run up Sylv's trouser leg again, one observes.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Eight. Hey, isn't that Keith Telly Topping's good fiend Clay Eichelberger and a couple of random blokes (one of them looking jolly pissed off to be there, frankly)?
Mind you, to be fair, it's hardly surprising Peter is looking the happier of the two. He is, after all, the only Doctor this blogger has actually slept with.
He was gentle and considerate, if you must know. Next ... When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Nine. Oh, look, it's Huge. Presumably, because yer man Tennant is standing next to Huge.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty. Oh, you two - get a room, will you?
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty One. 'If he dies, don't worry, I'm over here ...'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Two. Dear God, he was so young. And, Tennant wasn't exactly middle-aged either.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Three. 'How asonishing, that's Sylvester McCoy.' 'Grr ... it's Colin Baker, now I'm angry.' 'Suffering succotash, it's That There Peter Davison.' 'Err ... who let this bloke in?'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Four. 'Excuse me, do you stock copies of the, err, Doctor Who Magazine here?" 'Wekll, you can fek right off, matey, this is a respectable establishment. If you're the sort that wants that kind of sick filth, try WH Smiths top shelf!'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Five. 'How much did you get for Curse Of Fatal Death then?' 'A lot less than you, but I hadn't won the Oscar at that stage so Moffat got me on the cheap, idn't he? Still, it was for charrrridddeee.' 'Was it? I only did it cause I've always wanted to get that close to Julia Sawalha!'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Six. 'How many Doctors does it take to change a lightbulb?' In the Daivson/Tennant household, two, seemingly.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Seven. '... And then, some pillock said "it should be called Nurse Who now" and I was like "what, there aren't any female doctors now? What is this, the 1860s?"' 'Don't ask me, love, I'm impersonating a dead man!'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Eight. Harder, Pat, harder!
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Fifty Nine. You have to be impressed that the costumes still fit. Well, almost. Very almost in a couple of cases.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Sixty. Apparently, he only came back on condition that they used The Round Things.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Sixty One. It's a disgrace! The TARDIS is now full of bras! I am outraged and shall complain to my MP. Or, to the lead singer of Echo & The Bunnymen ...
This blogger can, of course, take no credit for the particular observation - the legend in his own lunchtime that was Brian From London got there first.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Sixty Two. To paraphrase Bob Mortimer's poetic description of the ageing process, memories of this are 'like fingerprints on an abandoned handrail.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Sixty Three. Not sure at all about the choice of costume, Jodie. You might want to think more along the lines of braces and half-mast flares - sort of a Seventies thing.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Sixty Four. Them, that moment when they discovered The Moff was back (they could've made the effort and smartened themselves up a bit, though).
To other news, now. And, how nice it is, dear blog readers, to see that Buckingham Palace have, finally and after much faffing about, agreed to release an undoctored family group photo. One wonders what on Earth it was that took them so long?
Meanwhile Spring, it would appear, has definitely, sprung. At The Stately Telly Topping Manor, if nowhere else.
And, this lot should keep The Stately Telly Topping Manor in Us Breakfasts, Us Dinners, Us Teas and Us Suppers for the next week or so.
There is, of course, nothing better on a Saturday afternoon than, ahem, 'exploring Uranus', this blogger has found.
The news that Voyager 1 has, reportedly, 'spluttered back to life' caused this blogger to ponder that he really doesn't know what all the fuss is about. It's only fifty years old - Keith Telly Topping has got a tape recorder which is older than that (as, indeed, is this blogger his very self). It - and, he, for that matter - both still work. Just about. Admittedly, neither of us have been flying through inter-stellar space all this time, but still ...
Congraulations are also due to the Olive Press for providing readers with not one but two thigh-slappingly amusing about the goings on within the Caotholic church, Holy Res-Erection Priest Is Arrested In Spain For 'Dealing Viagra Pills' and Unsisterly Act about nuns being swindled by fraudsters using AI tehcnology. On the same page of that particular edition.
Then, of course, there's this.
Moving on to From The North's Headline Of The Week award, kicking off with the Bournmouth Daily Echo's Westover Gallery Owner Fuming After Parking Ticket. Not just angry, dear blog readers, but 'fuming'. Well, you can't leave it there, mate.
The Bracknell News rewards careful readers with Huge Statue Heads Of Queen & Philip For Sale In Windsor. And, whyever not?
Doncaster Free Press finds it necessary to report Doncaster Shopper's Fury After Being Forced To Use Wrench To Open 'Impossible' Milk Carton. Well, at least they didn't need to resort to the hammer.
The Northern Echo, one imagines, had a lot of fun reporting Bishop Auckland Clairvoyant Finds Cockroach In Aldi Bananas. She didn't see that coming, did she?
According to Lytham St Annes News, 'Multiple Martin Kemp posters across our town have been targeted by yobs attaching "googly eyes" which is causing fury to locals. Lytham lookalike to Taylor Swift Serena - who is an avid music lover and huge Martin Kemp fan - said "This really isn't fair or funny. Martin Kemp is a huge heartthrob which everyone woman wants to see and every man wants to be, this is the act of a jealous man."' And, there's a picture to prove it. Sorry to disagree with Taylor Swfit-lookalike Serena, howver, but it is pretty funny.
If anyone fancies reading the finest bit of comedy writing-masquerading-as-a-local-newspaper-article, this work of twenty four carat genius by one Tim Butters is highly recommended by this blogger. For what it's worth, the Monmouthshire Beacon is an actual local paper and this didn't appear on 1 April. So, the only questions left to answer are, which are the funniest bits? A) 'Semi-professional long-distance runner Johnny Turnip believes he has found a portal to the hidden realms of the town and it happened by accident.' B) 'He explained, "We tried Big Tony's tactic of erecting this huge steel monolith-like structure on Hay Bluff to draw one in from the enchanted realms and trap it with a fishing net. Tony had spent a lot of time on top of Lord Hereford's Nob as a young man and said there's always been a lot of fairy activity in that neck of the woods."' Or, this blooger's own personal favourite, C) '"Ever since they cleared the slums, The Witch left Aber and has refused to return," said Turnip. "She said it's been overrun by beatniks and amateur chefs and not the town she once knew. She's lived in a caravan for years, giving Tarot card readings to finance her chocolate addiction and listening to Rick Astley records. They help with her gout apparently."' To be continued ... One can hardly wait and trusts that a movie version in currently in development, to be directed by Edgar Wright and starring Pegg and Frost. This blogger would definitely watch it.
And finally, dear blog reader, you dancin'? Keith from Saltdean is askin'? And he's not happy about it (a default position for most letter writers to the Daily Torygraph, admittedly).

Saturday, March 02, 2024

Amazingly, Few Discothèques Provide Jukeboxes Or Pangrams (Add A Pound For Any Breakages)

Ahoy-hoy, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, to the latest From The North update - a somewhat untypical one for reasons which will become clear later on in this latest collection of the random and varied dribblings from yer actual Keith Telly Topping's brain. We're kicking off with this blogger's own, somewhat ham-fisted, way of reminding all dear blog readers that we, all of us, are inhabitants of a single, somewhat insignificant planet. One of nine a single, somewhat insignificant solar system. Circling a single, somewhat insignificant star. On the outskirts of a single, somewhat insignificant galaxy. One of an estimated two trillion galaxies which (in the words of Eric Idle, probably) are part of 'an ever-expanding universe.' And yet, our single, somewhat insignificant, planet has one ething that, as far as we are currently aware, is unique in this ever-expanding universe. It contains life. Us. You may have noticed. (Of course, as Brian Cox or Neil DeGrasse Tyson or any other number of people far cleverer and more erudite and articulate than Keith Telly Topping will confirm, mathematically given that the universe is, as near as makes no difference, infinite, then the probability that somewhere out there, other forms of existence far more - and, indeed, probably far less - advanced than we are is extraordinarily high. But, no one has made a convincing argument that, as yet, we've actually found it. Or, that it has actually found us.) All of which is a long-winded way of say that From The North exists, in its own small way, to make a - small and insignificant - contribution to the sum-total of all of the works of literature, science and knowledge which constitutes the product of mankind's collective works. A terrifying thought, this blogger is aware. But, whilst he's in here with Shakespeare, Einstein, Da Vinci, Aristotle, Peter Cook, Nikola Tesla, Marie Curie, Martin Luther King, Smokey Robinson, Alan Turing, Dorthy L Sayers, Stephen Hawking, Bob Marley, Rene Descartes, Epicurus, Ada Lovelace, Chuck Berry, Joanna Lumley, Lise Meitner, Picasso, Simone De Beauvoir, Kenneth Wolstenholme and Paul Weller, he's also sharing shoulder-space with Hitler, Genghis Khan, Donald Trump, Jack The Ripper, Richard Nixon, Jeffrey Archer, Bill Oddie, Ivan The Terrible, Morrissey, Satan and all of the members of Toto Coelo. Makes you think, doesn't it? John Kennedy once, famously, spoke of that which unites humanity: 'In the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children's future. And we are all mortal.' And then, somebody shot him. C'est la vie. Or, in his case, Après l'accouchement, c'est la mort. Mai oui. So, the reason this particular bloggerisationism update is beginning with that, genuinely wondrous and spine-tingling, 1968 Apollo 8 Earthrise image is as a - necessary - reminder of this simple truism; we are here and, until such times as we find a viable escape route, it's all we've got so we might as well make the best of it. NASA's Pale Blue Dot photo, taken by Voyager II from a distance of four billion miles in 1990, reinforces the message; we're all in this together. If you're wondering, there is a sort-of rationale behind all this vaguely rambling hippy-dippy nonsense, dearest blog readers and we will definitely return to that later in this update.
Let us, therefore, begin this latest bloggerisationism with a question for all of the good people of Rochdale, Lancashire. And, the qestion is what were you thinking? What with your recent by-erection and all that strange malarkey.
There being a 'y' in the day, somewhat inevitably, this week has seen another outing from many of those truly ludicrous gammon-face keyboard-warriors who crawl out from under a rock from time-to-time proudly stating they are products of the 'Everything I Don't Like Is "Woke"' school. All of them getting a right Freddie Trueman-style 'it weren't like that in't maaaa day' chimney-on about something which, frankly, doesn't concern them in the slightest. And, whinging 'it's political correctness gone mad' about things whidch, in fact, aren't that or anything even remotely like it. Regular as clockwork, those guys.
The cause, this time around, was something of a storm in an egg cup; the BBFC - an organisation which this blogger has the upmost respect for - reclassifying Mary Poppins from a U certificate to a PG certificate. The reason for this is that it was recently pointed out to them the 1964 Disney classic includes two utterances of a, somewhat mild and certainly archaic but, nevertheless, still derogetary term for black people.
If you haven't been following this story, the reclassification affects only the cinema version of the film, with home entertainment versions still rated U, according to the BBFC. The word in question is 'Hottentot', a name used to described the Khoikhoi peoples of South Africa in the late Nineteenth Century by Dutch settlers, thought to imitate their language, which is now, rightly, considered offensive. It would later be used as a generic - and rather nasty - descriptor for all black peoples. And, bearing in mind that the individuals who coined the phrase in the first place were the direct ancestors of the people who thought that Apartheid was a good idea, then that's probably a good enough reason on its own to keep anything they came up with at arms length. Classifiers at the BBFC picked up on the term, used twice in the film by the character Admiral Boom (played by the late Reginald Owen) - firstly as a reference to people not seen onscreen, then later alluding to the film's child acotrs when their faces have been blackened by soot. This blogger will be completely honest with you all, dear blog reader, he only knew the word at all because it was used by Dame Edith Sitwell in a very famous 1887 poem, 'Hornpipe' which he, many years ago, studied for English Lit O Level and had no idea of its origin until this week. ('Queen Victoria sitting shocked upon the rocking horse/of a wave said to the Laureate, "This minx of course, is as sharp as any lynx/and blacker-deeper than the drinks/and quite as hot as any hottentot, without remorse/for the minx," said she, "And the drinks, you can see/are hot as any hottentot/and not the goods for me!"') And even then, he would have probably forgotten it except that Shakespeare's Sister used that portion of the poem as a spoken-word section in their 1994 hit single 'I Don't Care' which this blogger has always rather liked.
In a typically balanced and thoughtful analysis of the reclassification, this blogger's favourite film critic Mark Kermode, in the most recent episode of this blogger's favourite film podcast (Kermode & Mayo's Take) pointed out what should have been blindingly obvious to even the most brainless gammon-face GB News-watching, Daily Scum Mail-reading numbskull about to go off on one about 'political correctness gone mad.' (And, of course, as you can probably imagine, both of those odious scumbag organs of the media had something of a field-day with this particular story. See here and here. Or, if you want to keep your blood-pressure under control, maybe don't.) Mark noted that the reason why the BBFC have done this is not because anyone has actually complained about Mary Poppins but in case anyone does so in the future. The BBFC website now notes that the film includes some - not much, but some - discriminatory language (but not enough to take any it higher than a PG). As Mark points out, the change of rating is highly unlikely to stop any single person who wishes to watch Mary Poppins or to show it to their kids, from doing so. But, in the event that a professional offence-taker (and, sadly, there are just as many of those around as there are gammon-faced keyboard-warriors who believe 'everything I don't like is "woke"') does decide to try and make an issue out of the usage of That Word in future, the BBFC can now point to their website and say 'well, we did warn you.'
So, after all those shenanigans, in an effort to calm everybody down at this juncture, here is a picture of some fluffy kittens. Don't ever say this blogger doesn't try his very best to bring a little bit of peace and quiet to an often unpeaceful and jolly unquiet world. It's a dirty job, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, but someone['s got to do it.
There is a brief, but interesting, piece in the latest issue of Variety on From The North favourite The Lord Thy God Steven Moffat (OBE)'s forthcoming return to telly, Douglas Is Cancelled - starring Huge Bonneville and The Goddess That Is Karen Gillan. It's entitled How Steven Moffat's Douglas Is Cancelled Tackles The 'Heated Topic' Of 'Cancel Culture' With Dark Humor [sic]: 'It's Almost Like A Sport'. Which, should you so choose, you can have a gander at here. It's probably worth a few moments of your time.
Meanwhile, The Lad Himself was recently spotted at a works reunion hanging out with a couple of former colleagues. Nice work if you can get it.
This month's issue of the Doctor Who Magazine reveals that Amanda Brotchie and Makalla McPherson will both be directing upcoming episodes of the BBC's popular, long-running family SF drama. And, this news was then, somewhat inevitably, repeated in an 'article' (and this blogger uses that word quite wrongly) in the Radio Times (which used to be run by adults), written in that very typical 'here are a load of non-sequiturs thrown together at random because the author is being paid by-the-word' Radio Times way that we all and shudder at.
Which, as it happens, bring us nicely to our semi-regular From The North featurette, When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Four. 'Aged and toothless and bent old crone.' 'How'd you know me name?' 'We wish to engage you as ship's cook and concubine.' 'What's a concubine, then?' 'It's a small, spiky mammal.' 'Nah, that's a hedgehog!' 'In that case, we wish to engage you as ships cook and hedgehog.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Five. 'Gentlemen, count to ten and come out squirting.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Six. 'One day, we'll all look back on this and laugh.' More of them would've been there, it is rumoured, but Colin Baker had eaten them. Allegedly.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Seven. This blogger not sure which of the many and various all creatures (both great and, indeed, small) that was living on The Sainted Patrick's chin at the time but, whatever it was, it's big and it's hairy and I be a'feared of it. And so, by the look on his mush, did Peter Davison.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Eight. Okay, so exactly whose bright idea was it to photoshop these three chaps together? They look about as happy at the prospect as a slap in the kisser with a wet haddock.
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Thirty Nine. 'Hey, I know you. Aren't you that highly-respected character actor with a speciality of playing shouty Sergeant Majors?' 'Yes, I am. And, aren't you that radio comedian, "The Man Of A Thousand Voices ... all of them pretty much the same"?' 'Yeth.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty. 'Two Scotsmen walk into a play ...'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty One. 'Belgium‽'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Two. 'So, you've known me, him, his son and his son's flatmate? Is there anyone you haven't known?' 'Yes, William Hartnell.' 'Oh, well, that's all right, he'll be up on that screen any minute, you can know him here.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Three. 'We must act at once.' 'Good idea, Peter. You go first, I'll try to follow. Can't make any promises, mind, I'm not very good at that sort of thing.'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Four. 'I'd recognise that bottom anywhere ...'
When Doctors Meet It Is A Humbling Experience: Number Forty Five. So, just to repeat this one last time before hopefully, someone, somewhere updates it to include Ncuti (and Jo Martin for that matter).
According to the Independent (if not a source a shade more reliable), Adam Sandler Says Taylor Swift Is As Big As The Be-Atles. Hang on, last time someone claimed someone was 'bigger' than someone else and The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) were a part of the equation, didn't The Pope end up getting involved? Or did this blogger merely dream that?
On Sunday, for Us Dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, it was, clearly, time for Grilled Pork & Chestnut Mushrooms in Spring Onion & Hoisin Sauce with Apple, Lemon & Lime, Honey & Mixed Spices in Rice and soft noodles. Skill!
'Rice and noodles? I say, steady on' this blogger's good fiend Nick exclaimed, expressing how shocked - and stunned - he was at such a happenstance. 'Don't knock it till you've tried it,' this blogger replied before adding that, truthfully, the noodles had been prepared on a previous day for a different meal entirely and just needed using up which is why they were thrown in there. Yet, somehow, it worked. 'Call it a "fusion" and you're, instantly, Middle Class, yah?' Nick suggested. Which, actually, is a fair cop, guv.
Ooo, but yer actual Keith Telly Toping was pure-dead vexed on Tuesday, dearest bloggerisationism fiends. He was, in fact, reet stroppy and discombobulated in his considerable vexation and temper. He was aal of a kerfuffle, incandescent in his Goddamn righteous fury and he had his mad right up (as Keith Telly Topping's dad always used to say when he had cause to have his mad right up, which wasn't infrequently). Because, whilst preparing that particular day's Us Dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, this blogger accidentally dropped a small plate onto a larger plate and the larger plate promptly smashed into smithereens. Which was particularly annoying to this blogger. Firstly because it meant that The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House kitchen sink was full of nasty sharp fragments of glass (well, Pyrex, actually) that all needed to be gotten rid of - ideally without this blogger cutting his fingers to bloodied ribbons (which, you will hopefully be happy to learn, he managed). But, far more importantly, it was because that particular Pyrex dish had a great deal of sentimental value to this blogger, seeing as how it used to belong to his late mother. This blogger has had it since Mama Telly Topping died in 2013 and it was hardly new even then. So, yer actual was cross. Very cross. Enclosed is a picture of said Pyrex dish in somewhat happier times, containing what looks to have been a jolly tasty Beef & King Prawn Chow Mein which, this blogger guesses, he must've bought from the recently closed Royal Sky takeaway. It will be missed (the Pyrex dish, that is, not the Chow Mein. Although, a decent argument could be made for that - and the place it came from - being sadly missed, too). This blogger can get another one (again, a Pyrex dish not a Chow Mein, although there are still one or two places round here that specifically cater for that sort of thing) similar-sized Pyrex dishes are available at Morrisons for but a fiver (and, he has to go there tomorrow to get the weekly shopping in). But, still, this blogger and that old dish, we'd been through a lot together.
This blogger, incidentally, is indebted to his excellent Facebook fiend Amanda who recognised said Pyrex dish as almost exactly identical to one she, herself has (and, to which she has a similar sentimental attachment). In fact, this blogger has a feeling it may have, originally, been a lid for a Pyrex cooking pot, it certainly looks very lid-like! This blogger's own attachment to his Pyrex dish began because that was always what he used whenever calling into his mam's gaff on the way home from work (so, therefore, she must've had it pre-2000 - probably for a decade, at least) and she would whip up some chunky chicken and rice or something similar for US Tea at The (Old) Stately Telly Topping Manor. Hence, this blogger nabbed it when she left us for his own personal usage. Ah well, them's the breaks. I mean, quite literally, in this case.
But, this blogger hears you all bellow, gruffy, at your laptop screens, smartphones and other Interweb-style receiving devices, 'Keith Telly Topping, what was for Us Dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House on that particular day, then?' Or, in other words, 'what's the recipe today, Jim?' (one for all people of a certain age who used to listen to Radio 1 in the 1970s and cringe at the very memory, thereof).
This blogger shall, therefore, tell you dearest blog readers. It was Oyster & Spring Onion Chicken & Berlinki With Rice, Noodles, Mushrooms ... and lots of other stuff. And how does one make it, Keith Telly Topping? Well, one makes it exactly like this. Firstly, chop a large organic onion (or, non-organic onion if you're not particularly bothered about all that 'saving the planet' malarkey. This blogger feels it necessary to note that he is most definitely not a Middle Class hippy Communist Gruniad Morning Star reader and only happened to buy a packet of organic onions because that was all his local supermarket had in when he was last shopping. It was most not a lifestyle choice). Also, one small shallot, one small (peeled) apple and three (peeled) chestnut mushrooms with a little salt and some olive oil and lightly fry in your frying pan until they are all turning golden brown, texture like sun.
When that is almost-but-not-quite completed, begin boiling some 'Boil In The Bag' Basmati Rice in water (with a large pinch of table salt added) for approximately twenty five minutes.
Whilst all of that malarkey is on-going, begin to prepare the main body of the meal (it was at this point, incidentally, that the much-loved Pyrex dish bought it, big-style and went to the great broken crockery factory in the sky for those taking notes; although, to be honest, that isn't really essential to the recipe, this blogger merely mentions is as scene setting ... and to convey, once again, how God-damned pissed-off he was by this right-shite state of affairs). Then, chop up one (or two if you prefer) Classic Berlinki's - they're a sort a smoked sausage, like a cross between a hot dog and charizo, you get them in a packets of five and they're really rather tasty - and also some fresh chicken (you can use beef if you've got any, which this blogger did, but he went down the chicken route cos that was the sort of mood he was in at the time). Add to this, ground black pepper, a little olive oil, some sesame seeds, both flaked and ground coriander, a sprinkling of parsley flakes (or, again, if you're flash and you've got actual green stuff in yer fridge, that would do instead), a splash of light soy sauce, a sachet of Blue Dragon Oyster & Spring Onion stir fry sauce (lots of other kinds of cook-in sauces are available, but this blogger likes Blue Dragon because it tastes nice), a pinch of onion salt, two cloves of finely chopped garlic - you can, if you prefer use a couple of squirts from a tube of crushed garlic paste or, if you're like this blogger, use both of them just to ram home the point that this is supposed to be potent and well-garlicky). Further add, sprinklings of ground cumin, paprika, oregano and ginger (seriously, be careful with the gigner, too much and it can completely overpower everything else in the dish), one chopped red chilli - again, you can used ground chilli flakes if you prefer or, if you fancy being able to see through time when eating this, use both - a splash of lime juice, lemon (again, this blogger uses a tablespoon of lemon curd but lemon juice or, indeed, a couple of squeezes from an actual lemon will suffice depending on what's in your cupboard) and a spoonful of honey. Then, some mixed herbs, a couple of chopped springs onions, some chopped chives and, if like this blogger, you still have some left over from a previous meal, a handful of soft noodles lightly fried in oil. Take this blogger's fiend Nick's advice and call it 'fusion', MasterChef will love that the mostest, baby. Leave all of this to marinate in a sturdy pan like what this blogger has for about twenty minutes of so.
Once the onion, shallot, apple and mushrooms are golden brown (texture like sun) add them to the sturdy pan and its contents and start heating that - on a medium heat, stirring constantly using a wooden spoon (even if it's not a non-stick pan, the olive oil should make sure that it doesn't stick but you can't be too careful). Then, when the concoction reaches bubbling-point turn the heat right down, cover it with a lid and just leave that to simmer away gently for about another twenty minutes or thereabouts. By this time, the rice will be well-cooked and soft as a Cockney's knackers so, take that off the heat, drain and then place in a covered dish and let it settle whilst you're finishing off the main body of the meal. If you're cooking for four, that'll be yer whack, chum. But if, like Keith Telly Topping, you're a Billy No-Mates and are cooking just for yourself, then that'll not only Us Dinner, but also Us Tea, Us Supper and tomorrow's Us Dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. And all this, dearest blog fiends, because yer actual's local takeaway closed down and he was left with no option but to rediscover that he could, actually, survive and prosper without it.
Serve in a bowl. But, not the Pyrex one which had a lot of sentimental value to this blogger because, like a clumsy clot, he only went and smashed that one earlier and now he has to source a replacement for it. Yer actual has mentioned just how monumentally vexed he was about that, yes? Anyway, dearest bloggerisationism fiends, all of this was a public service announcement from The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House. With many ingredients. Yours The Galloping Gourmet. Yer actual Keith Telly Topping was, incidentally, shocked - and, indeed, stunned - to discover that The Godlike Graham Kerr is still alive and kicking, at ninety. And, one hopes, still whipping up jolly tasty dishes and then inviting a good-looking lady in the audience to share it with him on his candlelit kitchen-set just like he used to back in the day on telly. Ah another 1970s flashback, there!
Thursday, for Us Dinner at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House, this blogger had a go - for the first time in a good long while - at making an old standard, Toad In The Hole With Geet Thick Lamb Gravy. The method is pure dead straightforward and anyone even with absolutely no cooking skills whatsoever can manage a half-way decent version of it or something approximating it; mix some flour (or, in this particular case cos this blogger is lazy, a packet of ASDA Yorkshire Pudding batter mix) into a bowl with three eggs, one hundred and fifty fluid milligrams of water and some salt, then whisk the ensuing gloopy mush for few minutes until it stops being a gloopy mush and begins to run reasonably smoothly, at which point add approximately one to two hundred fluid milligrams of milk, plus any desired additions (this blogger chopped up some chives, added ground black pepper, sesame seeds and a pinch of parsley flakes). Then put the, hopefully now-smooth, mixture into ones fridge for thirty minutes. (You can, if you're even lazier, use a blender as Keith Telly Topping often has in the past. But you have to be extremely careful with regard to adding the flour or batter mix in drabs and drabs rather than the whole lot at once, or you are likely to end up with a layer of that, then a layer of eggs, then a layer of water, et cetera. It's probably safer in the long run to hand-mix.)
Meanwhile, heat your Yorkshire Pudding tin with oil at two hundred and twenty degrees (or, gas mark seven if you're old-school) for fifteen minutes. Chop up a sausage and/or hot dog (Keith Telly Topping used a Berlinki because he already had a packet opened from the previous meal - see above). Add those into the hot oil and allow to sizzle for a minute before adding the batter mix and returning to the oven for twenty to twenty five minutes or until risen and golden brown (texture like sun). Mix Bisto gravy granules (this blogger prefers the lamb gravy variant but, to be honest, they're all lush) with hot water in a mug or - if you're dead flash (like wot this blogger is) a gravy boat that gets taken out of the cupboard maybe four times a year, maximum. Serve with any leftover meat that you happen to have hiding in the fridge that needs using up (this blogger had a bit of chicken so, that was ideal for the job in hand). You should, also, have at least a quarter of a bowl of batter mix left over, so stick that back in the fridge and then, for Us Tea and/or Us Supper at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House do yourself a couple of quick savoury pancakes; dead tasty with mushrooms or, indeed, anything else you fancy having on a savoury pancake. A tin of Heinz Spaghetti makes a fine accompanying topping, for example. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Meanwhile, things that yer actual Keith Telly Topping learned from the Interweb this week that he never knew previously. For the last Century we, in Britain, have been assured that Americans don't 'get' Yorkshire Pudding and wouldn't know what the funk to do with one if it was presented to them, on a plate, looking all fluffy and lovely with roast tetties, beef and veg. Then, this blogger found out about the existence of so-called 'Popovers', served in some (though, seemingly, not all) parts of the US, usually at Thanksgiving. Which is, basically a sodding Yorkshire Pudding masquerading under a - punchable - alternate title. 'Very similar to Yorkshire Puddings, popovers are an American favourite' according to the BBC Good Food website. 'Very similar'? They're bloody identical. It's a cover version in other words. A note-for-note cover version at that. A bit like David Parton's 1977 hit version of 'Isn't She Lovely' that is, in essence, an identikit remake of Stevie Wonder's recording. Not bad. Not at all offensive or unlikable. But, by God, it doesn't half make you long to experience the original!
It was also wash-day at The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House and, here, we can observe the debut of Dave, the new Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House DRI-Buddi®™, recently purchased online. Because yer actual Keith Telly Topping was getting a bit fed up with doing all of his washing and then having to wait for three days whilst his gear, bedding, towels and other assorted stuff that goes in Wally The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House washing machine dries itself on Clarence The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House clothes-horse. Let's see how long it is until the novelty of Dave's arrival wears off (probably the next Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House electricity bill, this blogger is guessing). To be fair, it does appear to be quite user-friendly and this blogger worked out how it operates reasonably quickly. This was really just a test run with quite a small wash (at that stage this blogger hadn't bought any plastic clothes hangers for the interior arms so he just had to drape stuff over them, but it still worked). The main problem Keith Telly Topping had, initially, was that he thought the timer was a heat control and couldn't work out why Dave kept shutting down after thirty minutes. Then, he re-read the instructions and said 'oh, now I get it!' And, as this blogger usually only does a fortnightly wash Dave's not going to get too regular a bashing anyway.
Since last we blogged here at From The North, dearest bloggerisatioinism fiends, a whole slew of people whom this blogger greatly admired - in a variety of different fields - have left us and gone to join the choir invisible. The actress Pamela Salem, broadcasting legend Steve Wright, TV chef Davey Myers, one of this blogger's earliest cricketing heroes the great Mike Proctor, Queens Park Rangers (and, briefly, England) icon, maverick and enigma Stan Bowles, another gifted actor Michael Jayston, Wales and British Lion's fly-half and genius Barry John, MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer and the last surviving member of the Dad's Army cast, the great Ian Lavender. All of them, in their own way, influential on a part of this blogger's life, likes and fancies. Space (and time) precludes a detailed obituary for each of them - although, all nine thoroughly deserve one - so, the Gruniad Morning Star's efforts will have to do instead (links provided). But, yet again, a fortnight like this is a necessary remindee to all of us 'of a certain age' that the people we grew up watching, listening to and admiring on the sports field(s) are just as mortal, frail and human as we are (and, a few years older than us, too).
All of which leads us, with the inevitability of the inevitable, to this week's nominees for the From The North Headline(s) of The Week awards. Starting with the BBC News website and Cambridge Academic Escapes Toilet Using Eyeliner & Cotton. So many questions present themselves.
Next, one from the Daily Mirra's 'we couldn't be bothered to report any actually news today' pile, Mum In Hysterics After Noticing X-Rated Design On Sainsbury's Baby Pyjamas. To be fair, though, it's almost certainly the only time you'll see a trio of three-syllable words in a tabloid headline. Well done, Paige Holland (Showbiz Audience Writer) and Christine Younan (Deputy Lifestyle Editor). One is sure your family and fiends are all jolly proud of you even being able to spell hysterics.
Then there's the sort of brilliant, incisive, cutting-edge, socially-concerned, award-winning journalism for which the Middle Class hippy Communists at the Gruniad Morning Star are, so rightly, acclaimed. No, sorry, what's the opposite of acclaimed? Ridiculed. Yes, that's the ticket. Get Your Claws Out: Online Dating For Cats.
Top marks go to the Bristol Post for the potentially Earth-shattering importance of Mum Finds Oven Chip So Big It Has Scared Her Children. This blogger believes it's the sub-heading, I just pulled it out of the bag and I saw everyone's faces like 'woah' that makes it art. And, if your faces are currently, like, 'woah', dear blog reader then, clearly, you feel the same as the mum in Bristol's kids did. 
Next, a first ever entry from Burnham-on-Sea.com who have arrived, as t'were, with a bang. Or, with a rusty clang, anyway. Burnham Coastguards Say 'Ordnance' Found On Beach Was, In Fact, A Harmless Bin Lid. That's a debut cracker if ever there was one.
Meanwhile, Whitehaven News informs us that Alien Figure Making Rude Gesture In Haven Artisan Window Causes A Stir. 'A stir' in Whitehaven, dear blog reader. Truly, that must've been a sight to see.
But the clear winner, by a Humberside mile, comes from the Swanage News. Happy Hour Again As House Martins Get New Nests In Purbeck. Where the haircuts smile, clearly.
From that, dear blog readers, to a beauty from the 'you only had one job' column.
And finally, we end more-or-less where we began. This is an important and vitally up-to-date map showing From The North's entire global reach since records began. The fact that From The North (with its eclectic range of subject matter with only occasional relevance to anyone other than its author) gets any traffic at all - much less the four-to-five thousand daily pages-views which it regularly attracts - is a source of constant surprise to this blogger. So, this amount of worldwide coverage is genuinely not bad, all things considered. But, there are, clearly, still a few areas of the globe where some improvement could be achieved.
For example, we've had no contact whatsoever from anyone in Greenland. Come on, guys, this blogger is aware that it's bloody freezing cold up there but, surely you've got wireless access by now? Nothing, either, from Liechtenstein. Now that is seriously poor - this blog has even had two visits from The Vatican City for goodness sake and they're even smaller than you are. What's the problem? And, the same goes for, you, San Marino. Also, nothing from Cyprus. Nowhere near good enough - if your Mediterranean near-neighbours in Malta can find us, surely you can, too? Nothing from The Falkland Islands. Didn't we fight a war for you? Time to show some gratitude, possibly? Not one single hit from the British Overseas Territory of Saint Helena, Ascension and Tristan da Cunha. We're on the same side, people, we've got to put up with The King, just like you have. Nothing from Madeira. This blogger has been there on holiday. Twice. Nothing from large chunks of West and Central Africa (Mauritania, Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Sierra Leone, Niger, Togo, São Tomé & Príncipe, Chad, Sudan, Eritrea, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Zaire, Rwanda, Burundi, Mozambique, Djibouti, et cetera). Listen, this blogger once bought a 'Cancel Third World Debt' tee-shirt (some of you guys may have even made it) so, do him a favour in return, eh? Just one little visit to the site. Not even so much as a single, solitary sniff from Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. Attention, former comrades, if some people in Kazakhstan can manage to figure out the website address, you should be able to. If in doubt, just do a Google search. And, nothing from Bhutan either - who, despite sitting around being happy and chanting 'Om' all day, do have Internet access. This blogger has checked. If From The North can manage to have a regular visitor from the British Virgin Islands, then the inhabitants of all of these countries have no excuses for missing out on all of the 'inform, educate and entertain' malarkey that this blog provides on an irregular basis (especially considering how difficult it is to even find a British virgin these days).
There is also, perhaps unsurprisingly, no record of anyone from North Korea managing to access us; which, this blogger feels is a shame. Mind you, several other countries with, it is claimed (by the Independent if not anyone more reliable), similarly highly restrictive access to the Interweb beyond their own borders for its citizens contain a least a handful of semi-regular From The North visitors (China, Syria, Iran, Russia) which, this blogger would suggest. proves that nothing is impossible. Except the twenty one things mentioned in the book Twenty One Impossible Things, obviously. Twenty two if you include this blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies actually winning a trophy any time before this blogger dies.
Then, there's the whole fiasco that is Oceania. Just what the blinking-flip is going on down there, guys? Nowt from Samoa (American or non-American for that matter), Palau, Papua New Guinea, Tonga, Vanuatu, Tuvalu, Kiribati, Narau, the Cook Islands, Niue or Pitcairn (this blogger knows there's only forty seven of you but you do have a government website). Nothing from either Christmas or Easter Islands (and, if there was a Bank Holiday Monday Island we'd've probably had nothing from them, either). And, despite frequent previous requests, not a sausage from The Federated States of Micronesia. Any of them. Just one little visit from someone in Yap, that's all Keith Telly Topping is waiting for. Is that too much to ask? This blogger has been told that the trick is to keep banging the rocks together and, then, take it from there. As for the entire continent of Antarctica ... shame on you. Leave them penguins alone and get trawling the Interweb, you know you want to. It's, at least, something for you all to do during the endless nights.
An aggressive advertising campaign in those particular territories is, clearly, necessary. So, here it is. If this doesn't have The Peoples Of The World flocking in here like a ... you know, big ... flocking thing, then nothing will.