The Cutprice Guignol

The Ninth Year: The Haunting of Swill House

Best TV Shows Ever: #19- Black Books

Black Books narrowly fought out competition from The IT Crowd and Father Ted, both created and written by the genius Irish comic Graham Linehan, for it’s spot on this list, but this is the show that deserves to be here.
I suppose I’m biased to an extent- after all, the show does revolve around a wine-drinking, chain-smoking, bookshop-owning cynic who may or may not have been retrospectively been based on me- but judging by the amount of times my best friend yells “WHERE ARE THE TURRETS? IT’S RUBBISH!” at me when I pour her some wine, I don’t think I’m the only one. One of the things I like so much about it is it’s complete refusal to be anything other than a totally cynical, black-hearted, and very funny comedy. There are no lessons learned, no friends made, no walls broken down- just a trio of sour, often cruel humans (played to perfection by Dylan Moran, Bill Bailey, and the inimitable Tamsin Greig) bringing pain and suffering down on the heads of those who dare cross their paths.
It’s packed full of the typical Linehan absurdity- coats decorated with accounts, Bill Bailey spontaneously learning to play jazz piano with the spoons, Dylan Moran earnestly whispering “She thinks I’m a reclusive genius! Think how annoyed she’ll be when she finds out I’m just a reclusive wanker!”- and that’s what makes it so memorable. There are only eighteen episodes in total, and they are all a howlingly funny salute to professional cynicism and the complete rejection of anything that might disrupt the status quo. I’ll drink (an entire bottle of wine) to that.

Watch If: When asked to describe yourself, you can’t choose between “angry” and “clever”.

Stick Around Till: The restaurant episode. I wept. I still do.

The Best TV Shows Ever: #20- Vikings

Starting off the list at number twenty is Vikings, which has only very recently made it on to my radar. I’ve finished the second and most recent series, and it continues to impress- an ambitious, intelligent show that doesn’t flinch away from the nastier stuff in Viking society.

I think what warmed me to this show so quickly was the history it explored: an obsession with ancient history was what sparked my initial fascination with the past which endures well over a decade later. Commissioned and created by the History channel (which has more of a reputation for creating pish shows which somehow incorporate aliens into every single episode), it’s clear that at least a modicum of research has gone into this show, and that’s a pleasure to watch. Even the Consort, who was reluctant to try it out at first, grew to like it pretty quickly. And that’s the thing- it’s a show packed full of great characters and interesting stories, and those are the basics requirements for any good show. Unlike other “historical” dramas (COUGH Games of Thrones COUGH), the story is moved on in leaps and bounds every episode thanks to a shortened first season of just nine episodes. This is good if you’re me, someone who is pathetically averse to waiting a thousand years for anything to happen, and doubly so when those plots involve awesome Viking battles, English royalty played by people apparently trying to out-Blessed Brian, and Gustaf Skasgard belting out monologues while gripping onto the bow of a storm-lashed longboat. It’s already got a dedicated fan base, and you should be part of it.

Watch If: You want a historical drama that’s more drama than history

Stick Around Till: You meet George Blagsden as the alternately curious and terrified Brother Athelstan.

You Should Be Watching Vikings Right Now

Vikings is one of those shows I’ve been vaguely interested in for a long time. As a big-time history buff with a penchant for ancient European history (hate on me, haterz), it seemed like my kind of show. Factor in the fact I still can’t get my head around enjoying Game of Thrones (A few good characters + rape as set dressing x people trying to pass it off as “historical accuracy” does not = a good show, at least not to me) and it’s even more tempting. But it’s only in the last day that I’ve come round to watching it, and holyshititmightbethebestthingI’veseenthisyear.

Okay, that might be an overstatement (the best thing I’ve seen this year is the Hannibal finale, which was one of the best pieces of television I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing). But Vikings is still pretty damned excellent. It follows the story of the semi-mythologized Ragnar, a farmer with ambitions that go beyond his village. Keen to raid new territory, he winds up rampaging his way through England while dealing with deepening political machinations back home.

I’ll say this straight out: the best thing about Vikings is the cast. It’s one of those rare shows were everyone is so good- Gustaf Skasgard (son of Stellan) as the demonically eccentric Floki, Katheryn Winnick as a formidable female warrior Lagertha, Clive Standen as Rollo, Ragnar’s scheming brother…these are rich, well-conceived characters who help build the immersive world of Vikings with style. The small cast of regulars conveys that sense of tight community and intuitive closeness that comes through the best in the amazing action sequences. Take a look at this bad boy. Background: Ragnar is the blond fellow who almost takes an arrow to the face and the indescribably attractive blond woman is his wife, shieldmaiden Lagertha.

Now, what I really love about the fight scenes in Vikings is how quick they are. They usually last under five minutes, and they rapid, brutal, efficient and frightening. There are no Walking-Dead arterial blood sprays, or slow-motion sword-skewering- these people have been trained to fight, have done so all there lives, and are very, very good at killing people.
But the main quarrel isn’t the plundering or pillaging or raping- the driving conflict behind the show is religion. That mind sound ridiculous and ponderous and boring, but it’s not. One of the main characters-and my personal favourite- is Christian Monk Athelstan, played by George Blagden. Ragnar picks him up as a slave after a raid on Lindisfarne, and he becomes a kind of confidant for the protagonist. We frequently see events through the monk’s eyes- ritual sacrifice, the execution of law, and fervent devotion to Norse Gods is played out to Athelstan’s at best confused, and often horrified, point of view. The clash between Christianity and the Viking’s belief system is frequently explored in ways that I sadly can’t go into if you haven’t seen the show, but it’s a fascinating choice for a series that everyone assumed was going to feature a bunch of hot chicks and swarthy men in funny hats. The eighth episode of the first series, Sacrifice, is probably the best, as it tackles head-on the issue of Athelstan’s continued Christianity and how it continues to affect his life amongst his Viking masters. It’s an audacious choice, but, fuck me, the last ten minutes of Sacrifice make the whole series, let alone the thematic elements, worthwhile.

A quick shout out, before I go, to Travis Fimmel, who plays lead Ragnar. Let’s all take a moment to consider the fact that this guy is a Calvin Klein underwear model by trade. Sure, he’s pretty, but man can he make the whole antihero thing work for him too. While at first Ragnar seemed like he was going to be another dull hero who was too good for his own, well, good, his society has conditioned him to be the kind of person we consider pretty evil. You’ll find yourself drawn to and repelled by him in equal measure, despite the fact he has got, admittedly, a jaw-droppingly good body.
Vikings has just been commissioned for a third series, and I can’t compel you enough to get started now before it’s all anyone can talk about. Grab some mead and a nice warrior woman to see you through the night, and get on this shit now.

Tumblr, Self-Harm, and Me

This is a brief warning for people who come here for the funny jokes about Christian Grey being a wanker or retrospectives on Frasier (coming soon, folks!): this will not be particularly funny and may well be triggering for those who’ve self-harmed in the past.

I’ve recently discovered tumblr, because I was forced to sign up by an employer. “Oh well,” thunk I, “nothing wrong with exploring a new kind of social media, what with this being the digital age and all”. While I was browsing the internet for interesting topics to look up on the site, I came across a number of articles discussing the banning of pro-anorexia, pro-bulimia, and pro-self-harm blogs (which is what I’ll be focusing on). A statement released by the website said this on the matter:
“Don’t post content that actively promotes or glorifies self-harm. This includes content that urges or encourages readers to cut or injure themselves; embrace anorexia, bulimia, or other eating disorders; or commit suicide rather than, e.g., seeking counseling or treatment, or joining together in supportive conversation with those suffering or recovering from depression or other conditions”.

That all seems pretty sensible. But, me being me, I had to go and investigate exactly what kind of content this had left on those kinds of communities; after all, once something gathers a following on the internet, it’s pretty hard to ever sponge it clean entirely (see: 4chan).

I should point out at this juncture that this topic was of particular interest to me because I have suffered from depression and self-harmed on a semi-regular basis for around two years (I tried to make that as nonchalant as possible, but this is the first time I’ve admitted it to a wide audience and a tiny part of me is fist-bumping itself and going “WAY TO BREAK ‘EM BOUNDARIES, MACGREGOR”). Most of my scars have faded but I’m still extremely self-conscious about them, and self-harm is my The Big Bad, like booze for alcoholics or heroin for junkies. You may judge me off that statement however you want, and you’re welcome to, but I’d appreciate it if you kept any needlessly nasty comments to yourself. A morbid curiosity overwhelmed me and I had to take a closer look- what were these websites promoting that was so hypnotic to the tumblr community?

I investigated. And it’s pretty safe to say that many of the tumblr pages I came across that discussed self-harm continue to glorify it. Extremely graphic pictures of scars and cuts-some still bleeding, some clearly suicide attempts, some so bad that other users have urged the poster to visit the hospital-prompt comments complimenting their beauty. Some anonymous users despair because their scars are not as deep as the ones they see depicted on the site, and they believe this means they don’t qualify as “real” self-harmers. Gifs and pictures from movies glorify beautiful people slicing themselves to ribbons without tackling anything other than the superficial fact they are self-harming. Other posts advise on how to find razors and sharp objects in everyday items. One particularly hideous gif-and I’m sure it’s not the only one- shows someone actually cutting their arm open with a razor.

I can tell you this with some security because I am in recovery: if I’d found a community that had glorified and encouraged this habit back when I’d first started, I dread to think how far I would have gone to fit in. Self-harm is confusing and frightening and addictive enough without wondering if your scars are deep enough or pretty enough or numerous enough. And recovery is a long and often lonely process, so it’s not out of the realms of belief that someone might look for some sincere support on the web when nothing else is available and come across sites like these. This shit is utterly, utterly horrible, extremely disturbing, and offering very little in the way of the “supportive conversations” tumblr had imagined. Words cannot describe how angry and sick this made me, and you’ll find the same kind of blogs kicking around for eating disorders too-several particularly grim forays include a mixture of self-harm and pro-eating disorder material.

And let’s step back from my rage and take a look at the facts. Around 30% of tumblr’s visitors are under 25, so young people account for just under a third of their entire audience. Consider this: rates of depression in young people in Britain have risen 70% in the last 25 years, and it’s now estimated that around 1 in 10 young people all over the world will take part in some form of self-injurious behavior (SIB). Do you see what I’m getting at here? That tumblr should be doing a far better fucking job at protecting the particularly vulnerable third of it’s audience from distressing or potentially triggering imagery and communities? Seems pretty straightforward to me. But then I’m a nutter cutter: what would I know?

As a sign-off, I’d like to recommend anyone else who self-harms or is in recovery (I see it like alcoholism: you never really stop having the propensity to slip back into it, but you do have long periods of time-lifetimes, even-where you don’t) the following websites, which I’ve found really useful in the past.

http://selfharm.co.uk/get/facts/self-harm_statistics
http://www.7cupsoftea.com/ Especially this one.

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter Two

See that time I said that I’d post a review up next week, and then a month passed? Aye, I lied. Anyway, on to the second chapter of Fifty Shades of Pish. We left Ana strangely entranced by professional wankbasket Christian Grey, and oh Christ I just don’t care I really don-

After Ana nearly decks it while fleeing from his office, then ponders on how no man has ever made her feel this way before (I sympathise, as never have I been so attracted to someone who is also a complete pair of balls). She drives home too fast in a car that isn’t hers, and immediately starts whining about her so-called best friend and roomate, Kate.

Tonight's theme is dissonant cartoons!

Tonight’s theme is dissonant cartoons!

“Ana, thank you so much for doing this, I owe you, I know. How was it? What was he like?” Oh no-here we go, the Katherine Kavanagh inquisition.

Excuse me if I don’t think two questions regarding a wildly important job-related opportunity that she was forced to delegate to her blank-eyed automaton of a roomate is an inquisition. They then go to have a curiously stilted conversation where everyone says things that have never once been said before, and Ana goes to her job (let’s face it, it’s probably Kate’s job, and she’s going to huff around fucking everything up for Kate by asking if her boss is into dogging or something).

When she gets home, Kate comments that it sounds like Christian was “taken” with Ana during the interview. Christ, I was surprised she couldn’t make out the wood on his desk creaking as his erection tried to break free of his body and make a solo expedition to Ana’s peaks (heh). Some other shit happens-it’s just so fucking dull-and then we meet Jose.

Now, for those of you not familiar with Twilight (of which, we must recall, this book is a fanfiction) there is a character named Jacob in it. Jacob lusts after the female protagonist to no avail after he befriends her shortly after her arrival in a new town, his father has links with hers, and it’s implied he has Native American roots. We’re about to meet a character in Fifty Shades, and I want you to tell me if he reminds you of anyone. All the following excerpts are taken from within a page of his introduction.

Jose is the first person I ever met as WSU…and we’ve been friends ever since… We also discovered that Ray [Ana’s father] and Jose Senior were in the same army unit together…Jose and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside me he’d like to be something more.

It’s all in my head.

Off Ana heads back to work, and, lo and behold, who’s there but beloved actress Pauline Quirke. No, it’s Christian Grey. And he’s here to rub up on Ana like an anaconda with a hard-on and…buy murder supplies? Rope, cable ties, masking tape…as Ana veritably leaves a puddle beneath her every time he speaks, she takes little notice of the fact that he’s clearly stocking up for a long season of hunting humans for sport like every great romantic hero.

In honour of his upcoming tenure as Doctor Who, they'll be a Peter Capaldi gif in every article!

In honour of his upcoming tenure as Doctor Who, they’ll be a Peter Capaldi gif in every article!

They flirt stupidly for a bit (I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto think Ana, and I punch myself in the face) and then organise a photo shoot to go along with Kate’s interview. Where he will presumably-and hopefully-kill them all.

Support The Interesting People Project!

Support The Interesting People Project!.

David Firth: Cartoonist

Awesome interview with the admirable David Firth.

thethreepennyguignol's avatarThe Interesting People Project

saldfingers

“I never set out to “stand out” from anything, but rather just create what I thought was missing.”  So says David Firth, creator of the cult classic internet cartoon Salad Fingers (don’t follow this link if it’s past nine in the evening, if you’re by yourself, or if you know anyone with a North English accent). After releasing the ultimate in oddness almost ten years ago, David worked on a number of equally strange projects; from telling the tales of Drillbithead (a cute little fellow with a drill bit in place of most of his face) for the BBC to writing and animating Sock, a series based on his own dreams.

” There is very little that fully satisfies me. It would be quite a crushing position to be in if I weren’t able to create my own things, which I do, fuelled by my own ultimate dissatisfaction with what is on offer…

View original post 729 more words

Fifty Shades of Grey: Chapter One

Synopsis: We meet Anastasia Steele, prick extraordinaire, as she carries out an interview with Christian Grey for her sick roommate. No, literally, that’s all that happens. It’s diabolically boring.

Christian Grey Describe-O-Meter: The scribbles on the copy of my book imply that Christian Grey being described as looking “above all, polite” was my favourite; however, after a brief re-read, I noticed that there were four references to his “long index finger” in the handful of pages he appeared in the book. This conjured up the image of a guy with normal hands hindered by one huge, flappy pointing finger that he struggled to control as it careered waywardly around the room. I preferred this.

Because it reminded me of this.

Because it reminded me of this.

Ana, A History: What struck me most about this chapter was that Ana Steele seems to have been written as a complete wanker deliberately. On page two, she “ignores a pang of unwelcome sympathy” for her bedridden best friend (Kate) who’s so ill she’s unable to conduct an interview we discover she’s spent months arranging. Then she proceeds to ask a series of ridiculously rude questions to a man who she’s apparently so in awe of she feels “strange muscles in [her] belly clench suddenly” when he looks at her (by the way, EL James, stomach =/= arousal).

First off, she suggests that his millions of dollars and twenty-thousand people strong company is down to luck alone, then tells him he’s a control freak. After that, she proceeds to ask if he’s gay when he says he doesn’t want a family. C’mon, Ana, I liked Kate! Even if you have a wierd desire to watch her suffer, try not to fuck up an amazing opportunity that she created for herself, okay? She also mentions that she’d prefer to be reading “a classic British novel”, which holds the double win of making me hate this book for being too vague to name a single classic British novel, yet specific enough to know I would eviscerate Ana with my words if I ever met her. That’s talent.

This kid has the right idea.

This kid has the right idea.

For the man who awoke dormant menopausal libidos across the planet, Christian Grey is outrageously shit. I get the notion of a standoffish sexual hero-treat ’em mean if you must-but his dialogue seems to consist of really inappropriate sexual hints (after all, Ana is a student at the university he benefits) and indecipherable statements. Viz;

“We can’t eat money, Ms Steele, and there are too many people on this planet who don’t have enough to eat.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionate about? Feeding the world’s poor?”

He shrugs noncommittally.

“It’s good business sense.”

Aside from being atrociously written (can you shrug with certainty?), this is pretty much left as it is. He isn’t asked to explain that strange final comment, and the attempts to make him seem like a sensual villain with a heart of gold come off as a teenager wearing his fringe over his eyes to seem mysterious.

After a brief goodbye, during which Ana actually gasps when he touches her-

gasp

-Ana sneaks in one last reference to his long index fingers and is mercifully on her way, never to see this wretchedly boring creature again. Until Chapter two, that is. Tune in next Friday!

The Life and Times of Adrian Mole: A Tribute to Sue Townsend

Sometimes, things affect you in a way that you never expected they would. I forget this up until the moment it happens again, and I was sadly reminded of it when I read the news of Sue Townsend’s passing.

I’m afraid this won’t be funny, or cruel, or cynical, because I can’t be. She is-was- a hero of mine- a true genius with boundless imagination for the mundane and buckets of anecdotal eccentricity (Stephen Monahan, who played Adrian Mole, recounted his first meeting with Townsend wherein she inspected him at great length to make sure he “was ugly enough” to play Adrian. He was.). Also, she was a funny woman writer, and I need more of those around purely from a cynical standpoint-they make me look great.

And I don’t know what kind of person this makes me, but I was equally sad to think that Adrian Mole had died with her. For those who don’t know, Townsend had written the diaries of fictional loser Adrian Mole since 1982, following him from his early teens, through to work, marriage, kids, divorce, and the labor Government. She was still writing his latest diary when she passed, and so, with her death, we lose the entire world she’d created and the masterful characters that populated it.

I started reading the series when I was twelve on holiday-my Harry Potter CD broke and Mum needed something to distract me with. Since then, I doubt two months have passed without me at least flicking through one of the books and realizing how-dreadfully- I can relate to the whingey money woes and depressing work responsibilities of the later novels. I’ve grown up with Adrian Mole, and everyone who surrounds him-Townsend’s genius was not in making the everyday outrageous, but making the outrageous everyday. Everyone Adrian encountered was someone me or someone I know has met, and Adrian himself-the ultimate British everyman-reflected every facet of life, from pubescence to adulthood, with startling clarity. However ridiculous it got, it was still ultimately real and painfully funny in equal measure.

And, most importantly, these are characters I see myself in. I’m Pandora, Adrian’s unrequited love, a cynical career woman constantly showing “the most leg, cleavage, and teeth”, I’m Pauline, Adrian’s chain-smoking mother who hides hair dye down the back of the fridge so no-one will know she’s not a natural redhead, I’m Rosie, his pointedly rebellious, crude and savage little sister-and most importantly I’m Adrian, the perpetual teenager who woke up one morning and decided he was an intellectual. So for that, Sue Townsend, thank you-there’ll be another star in heaven tonight. Having a fag.

How They Ruined How I Met Your Mother

I’ve been watching CBS sitcom How I Met Your Mother for more than five years now; what started off as a slightly clever dramady turned into one of the sitcom mainstays of American television, running for nine years as it followed the story of five friends trying to make it in New York. No, not friends-don’t mention Friends. The people behind this show have never heard of Friends. They didn’t know what that show was about, though maybe they caught a few episodes when the TV was on in the background. But HIMYM is nothing like Friends, when you think about it-for a start, there were SIX people on Friends. They could go on, but there’s no need, as there is literally not one similarity between their original creation and Friends. Not one.

Either way, the show came to an end on Monday night after nine seasons and many ups and downs-both in the lives of the central characters and the quality of the show. But I stuck with it and it became a regular in my weekly viewing-funny, occasionally sad, a little surreal and ultimately predictable. Told in a framing device where the central character recounts the story of how he met his children’s mother to his bemused offspring, it played off fore-knowledge, flashback and unreliable narration for pathos. And after watching the finale, it’s safe to say I’m furious with how the show chose to throw nine years back in it’s audience’s face while prancing around blowing raspberries and stealing their cigarettes.

I’ll try to avoid spoilers here, but suffice to say the show indulged in a spectacular amount of flashforwards for it’s final hour-and in doing so managed to undermine the relationships they spent so long building, both this season and for nine years. Much of the show revolved around main character Ted’s relationship with (female) Robin-we knew from the off that she was not the mother, but Ted frequently found himself drifting back into the fantasy that she might be The One. Eventually, he began to slowly, painfully let go of that belief and open himself to someone different-someone, probably, better. A brave and interesting way to handle a will they/won’t they, it was believable and felt like an earned growth of character as he finally let her go for the last time.

I think what makes a great sitcom finale is the idea that life goes on. Friends and Frasier did it best; you got the sense that everyone’s lives were going to continue, but you just wouldn’t watch them living them any more. How I Met Your Mother lay everything out with no room for argument-here is exactly what happened to everyone for the rest of their lives. If you don’t like it-tough. There’s no room for speculation. If we want to repeal character development, major relationships, and key plot points, we will. There was a distinct feeling on the ending being decided on years in advance-and it was, with some character’s reactions having to be recorded within the first few years of the show’s inception- and the writers found themselves stuck with it, attempting to steer the careering plot lorry away from the edge of a cliff they knew they couldn’t avoid.

Some people have argued that by making unexpected (and unpopular) choices, the writers have moved HIMYM towards some semblance of reality. What they forgot was that we don’t come here for reality-we come here for glossy fiction. You can’t feed us exotic eclairs for almost nine years then act surprised when we spit out soggy toast and margarine-nine seasons of charming, witty fiction matched with an hour of sad, depressing, unlikely and unguessable stabs at reality left many viewers (including me) feeling cheated. The finale was not the ending to the show I’d been watching for five years-so I’ve decided to erase the ending from my memory and enjoy it at it’s-entirely unrealistic-best.