So, how concerned should we be?

Well, it's been less than a week and things are getting worrying.  Let's leave the economy to one side, shall we?  That's been the main agenda for the entirety of the election (second to immigration), and there are more issues besides.

So, let me list some things that are currently worrying me:

1: Our Health Minister (who has been pro-homeopathy, and also wrote a book on successfully dismantling the NHS), has now been joined by a junior Health Minister, Ben Gummer.  He has been quoted as saying he's against abortion, both "personally and in principle".

It could be construed as "a concern" for women, when their bodily autonomy is in the hands of a MAN who doesn't believe that they should have any.

2: Our Equalties Minister is the second consecutive one to have voted against equal marriage.

3: The government are starting to make the Freedom Of Information Act easier to veto, while at the same time, issuing statements like this:

"For too long, we have been a passively tolerant society, saying to our citizens 'as long as you obey the law, we will leave you alone',"

This is a hugely worrying statement, in terms of its wording, and could be a potential encroaching of our rights as people.  And it's not the first time a British Prime Minister has used terrorism as an excuse to do something questionable, is it?

4: Our new Justice Secretary, the erstwhile education CHAMP Michael Gove, is not only tasked with repealing the Human Rights Act (with a British Bill Of Rights), but has also written in defence of the Death Penalty.  It's not known if he still holds this view, but the new Employment Secretary has also been known to want to bring back hanging.

Gove, meanwhile, also has no interest in investigating the widely-reported Westminster Paedophile Ring.  Now, I might be wrong, but if allegations of this sort of corruption were floating around, you'd want that looked into, right?

5: Plans to repeal the Hunting Ban.  Of what benefit is it that some people miss shooting things or having a pack of dogs rip foxes apart?

So.  This is all stuff from the last five days.  Some of the most ill-advised postings one could ever imagine, and decisions that you wouldn't make by accident.  Combined with incoming austerity cuts that will be affecting the most vulnerable people in society, is all this worth simply getting the economy back on track?

I don't know about you, but I'm finding this first week deeply unsettling.

THE GREAT BRITISH MORONIC OVERREACTION THUNDERCOCK FUCKSTORM

Gone are the days where I would sit at my computer - freshly-made, piping hot cup of tea at my side - and type, often whimsically, about whatever was floating through my head at the time.

I miss those days.

It all started to get a lot darker up in my old head, around the time of the Elliott Rodgers rampage.  That news story lifted the rock on a peculiar (not to mention dangerous) school of thought.

Seeing into that world, however briefly, unsettled me and knocked me off track.  It hit a point where every news story triggered either outrage, despair or sorrow - no middle ground, either one or a mix of the three.  UKIP clumsily trying to put on their marching boots; Russia/Ukraine; mysoginy; Ireland's inhuman stand on abortion; varying Tory policies in the works; Gaza; Ferguson.  All these situations broke into global recognition at the point when I was making a concerted effort to be aware of the wider world.

I made several efforts to be a decent cove and take a stand to say "Does this seem wrong to anyone else?" - to not stand by and say nothing.  I didn't feel better the more I did it, though.  I just felt hopeless instead.  The more I read, the bleaker my outlook was becoming, because as much as I wanted to speak out, there was very little I could intrinsically do.  

Before long, I was so depressed about everything that I reasoned the only thing I could do was take a step back & try to get myself on a more even keel.  So I did.  I backed off.

Then, the other night, The Great British Bake Off - a programme that is both filmed months in advance and edited, heavily - managed to make it look as if a woman had taken a competitor's dessert out of a freezer, causing him to bin it and walk out.*

Fucking hell, the internet erupted.  For the amount of outcry about a binned Baked Alaska, you'd have thought that a white police officer had gunned down an unarmed black teenager, or that years of fermented differing religious beliefs had resulted in days of persistent bombing and gunning down children, or - I dunno - the Prime Minister was gearing up to repeal THE HUMAN RIGHTS ACT.

I'm not one of the most educated people in the world, nor am I one of the most successful, but I like to think I'm the sort of person who wouldn't put a wrongheaded, badly thought-out, non-existent "controversy" ON NEWSNIGHT.  I would maybe have gone for something more relevant, such as the revelations sexual abuse in Rotherham, or Russia constantly invading Ukraine.  Just a thought.

I don't mind that a TV programme does a cheeky bit of editing to spice up what is essentially a food contest.  I don't mind that people might take to social media to share an "Ooh, did you see that?" while it's on.  What BUGS THE EVERLOVING FUCK out of me though, is that a level of outcry is reached THAT WE REALLY COULD HAVE DONE WITH WHEN *IMPORTANT* THINGS WERE HAPPENING - y'know, women dying as a result of Irish abortion laws; Robin Williams' suicide being reported in grisly, prurient detail by the press; families being bombed whilst hiding in schools; American police barging into a church being used as a triage centre during the riots in Ferguson, and confiscating medication being used to treat the effects of tear gas.  THAT SORT OF THING.

I mean come on, pick your battles.  The message I got the other night was "I shall maintain a dignified silence throughout the atrocities of the Middle East, Ferguson, Gaza, but YOU WATCH ME GET MY COMPLAINING HAT ON WHEN THE BBC MAKE IT LOOK LIKE SOMEONE FUCKED WITH A PUDDING!"

What a truly ridiculous week.

*The dessert was left out for forty minutes and then put in another freezer, but the freezers were having a bit of a difficult time of it.  I didn't even watch this AND HERE I AM POINTING IT OUT.

Doctor Who: Eleventh Doctor Episodes I Thought Were Solid

I am a fan of Matt Smith's Doctor.  In essence.  I enjoyed the way his Doctor was, he was great interacting with other characters, although some of his more monologuey moments didn't always work for me.  My other personal opinion is that many scripts were based on a decent enough premise, but between conception and the cutting room, it felt as if vital turning points had been edited out owing to time constraints (this became less of a problem toward the end of his tenure).

Anyway, for Who fans among you, here's a run-down of my favourite episodes:

The Eleventh Hour

Some good comedy moments, and the stillness of The Doctor eating fish fingers & custard after crashing the TARDIS was a lovely little scene.

Vincent And The Doctor

I'm not saying the episodes between that & this weren't good, but this, for me, was a proper tour de force, coupled with what could be described as a child-friendly exploration of depression.

The Impossible Astronaut/Day Of The Moon

A decent two-parter, some clever twists, and I enjoyed the introduction to The Silence, along with the novel method of bringing about their downfall.  A great way to set up the series arc, too.

The Doctor's Wife

This was a beautiful episode.  Solid plot, clever ideas, and Matt Smith's performance in this was masterful, and still makes me get teary every time I watch it.  I liked getting another look at the previous TARDIS console room as well.

The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People

Another clever idea, and explores the notion of morals in regard to the idea of cloning.  When is a person not really a person?  I liked the way this episode was done, and The Doctor's testing of Amy's viewpoint was a nice touch.

The God Complex

Praise Him.  Another brilliant idea, not underserved.  It was such a creepy setting, with a real emotional investment. I loved the way this played out.

Asylum Of The Daleks

A plot (or an ending to which) I genuinely didn't expect, and a generally good script.  Once again, this didn't feel like it had skipped anything important (unlike Victory Of The Daleks, which sadly I can't stand).

Cold War

One of the best episodes so far for Smith, on a claustrophobic nuclear submarine which has just mistakenly thawed an Ice Warrior who was brought aboard in a block of ice.  Tense stuff, well acted, and showing that Clara is an aid to the action, rather than a cause of unnecessary mishaps (my least favourite style of companion is one that gets bored and messes everything up).

Hide

Straight after Cold War is yet another atmospheric piece with superb performances from the whole cast.  Ghosts, pocket universes, and barely-seen monsters with unnerving movements (only downside in this episode is when the monster is shown in close-up, slightly ruining the effect of the creature).

Journey To The Centre Of The TARDIS

Completing a hat-trick of brilliant episodes, comes an exciting exploration of the TARDIS' interior (something sorely lacking from modern Who).  We finally see the swimming pool, plus a room of potentially intriguing "Easter eggs" in the form of old props, and the library.  Again, a solid plot which is pretty tight and not lacking anything.

Day Of The Doctor

The 50th Anniversary special is FUN.  It has enough weight to balance it out, and it is great to see Ten back in an episode, poking fun at Eleven's chin.  John Hurt makes an excellent, war-weary "non-Doctor" who believes himself to be unworthy of the title.  Although the War Doctor is evidently in existence because Christopher Ecclestone was unwilling to reprise his role, this "hidden" incarnation of The Doctor is a brilliant creation, and the special (and its accompanying mini episode) allows us to bridge the regenerations from Eight to Nine.  A good story, a fun script and some beautiful moments.

So there.  Nearly all the episodes had potential, but were let down by unsatisfactory endings, irritating character moments, or cringey ideas in general, so I wanted to make a list (as much for myself as anything) to see which episodes I thought really stood out.

Any disagreement?  Episodes you reckon I missed?  Gis a comment!

JM x

My Finky-Winks

Much as I appreciate Russell Brand telling us wot 'e finky-winks out of his mouth-hole, I rather lost faith in his florid, emotive ponderings after he urged Britain not to bother voting and, essentially, give extremist-nutter party supporters a slightly better chance of getting their bastards into power.

And so now he turns his attention to the conviction of Rolf Harris.  Our childhoods have been grafitti'd, apparently, and they all need revising.

Utter horsecock.

Our childhoods don't need revising (yes, it turns out we were watching a sex offender draw Wile E. Coyote, and that's awful), and if we're sitting here going "Oh God, what does this mean about my youth?!" then it doesn't get more ridiculously self-involved than that.

The only childhoods that were ruined were those of the people he assaulted, and I hope there as few of them as possible.

Several Stories, One Song, One Massive Tangent

I wrote a song this week, which started out as a song about things in my past that I had not written about before, and ended up as a massive polemic.

Halfway through writing, my mind wandered onto everything in the last few weeks that has upset or angered me in current events, or the world outside my house.  So here is my new song - see if you can spot where I lost it.

(If I Gave You Anything, I'd Guess It Was) The Confidence To Leave

If I gave you anything, I'd guess it was the confidence to leave

If you're trying to get better then it's best to do it far away from me

But if you want to be with him, then you can tell me something I'll believe (like the truth!)

Yeah, if I gave you anything, I'd guess it was the confidence to leave

If anybody needs me, I'll be lying in a gutter in the street,

With the ghosts of conversations seeping in and waterlogging both my feet

And if you can't be arsed to fuck me up, then I don't really want to take the lead

So if anybody needs me, I'll be lying in a gutter in the street

She's my sister, she's the only one I've got, and I had just begun to see

How she suffered at the hands of every mood and every whim that passed through me

And I always used to worry that I'd spoiled the person she was meant to be

But now she's doing well and all that worrying has turned into relief

Some people are nightmares and their bullshit takes its toll on everyone

They can run you round in circles 'cause it happens to be their idea of fun

Well you can take a horse to water but you can't make it hold a loaded gun

But you can make it choke on silence, and kill it with a lack of attention

I've been looking at the world outside, it's fair to say it's given me the blues

With its gunmen and its sexists running riot on the internet and news

So much misogyny and racism it feels like there's nothing I can do

Yeah, you could your breath forever, but they're never going to broaden out their views

All these idiots and bastards complicating life when it could be a breeze

Hassling women on the internet and wondering why they never seem that pleased

So it's okay to threaten rape at every woman daring to express her views

Well you're just wasting oxygen

Well, yeah maybe it's not all men

Like anti-choice and anti-vaxxers

And far-right racist rights attackers

People who don't do their research

Or realise how much their words hurt

All the chummy capitalists

And ignorant gun lobbyists

I think I've wandered off my point

So take me to the start and help me sing

If I gave you anything, I'd guess it was the confidence to leave!

An Exciting Occupation

  There's an odd feeling that sometimes sets in whenever I have to leave a city.  I love a big city, and during visits, there's a rush of adrenalin whenever I get a chance to plug into the energy of the it, and get a taste of its many flavours.  It's invigorating to be in a place so huge that the fact I am in it means very little.  I am one tiny extra part of the furniture, which means I can wander wherever I fancy, observing what I like, as life happens around me.  Which is how I like it.

  In a similar manner, last night I got the chance to go and see 'The Drowned Man: A Hollywood Fable', staged by Punchdrunk.  If any of you are familiar with Punchdrunk, then you will know that their productions are "immersive", and that in order to stage them, they occupy whole buildings, and completely convert them into elaborate, exquisitely detailed sets.  If you aren't familiar with Punchdrunk, then I rather think you should be.  I will try to be as vague as possible from this point onwards, because I want you to go and see/explore the damned thing, and so spilling all the beans is not going to help anyone, especially them.  Or you, come to think of it.

  It all takes place within the walls of 31 London Street, Paddington, opposite the train station.  Three floors plus a basement comprise the offices & film sets of 'Temple Studios', a saloon and a trailer park, and seemingly a wasteland (wear comfortable, and preferably sandproof, shoes).  You are taken into the building, given a mask, which must be worn at all times, and from the moment you enter, you must not speak.  At all.  What follows is a series of stories linked by the underlying darkness of 'The Hollywood Dream', accompanied by ambient sounds and clever, at times unsettling, musical scores - the use of sound is very atmospheric.

  Scenes happen across all floors, at once, on a loop.  While this is an intrinsic feature of the performance, it also means that if you don't see a scene when it is first performed, there's a chance you'll see it later (you are there, after all, for around three hours).  It is also possible to happen upon a scene and then later on, see the story leading up to what you saw in the first place.

  You are guided by nobody but yourself.  There is no right or wrong way to take in the production (unless you are a) pissed, b) determined to try and hijack the proceedings by heckling/dicking about, or c) wandering around with your bastard phone on, taking photographs) - if you find a character that intrigues you, you can follow their course around the building until they get to the end of their 'loop' (from which they return to the beginning of their story), or you can find a room you like, camp out in it and see what occurs.

  My tack was to explore the building.  This way, I hoped, I would get to take in as much detail of the production as possible.  (Seriously, the sets are stunning, I wanted to see as much as I could of the many rooms on offer.)  Also, I would happen upon scenes in an unforced, more natural manner, almost by accident.  Sometimes I would see an interesting scene, and would follow that trail, either until it seemingly reached an end, or until my curiosity waned.  (I saw the stories of several characters in this manner - a couple of full stories, where for others I caught only snatches.)  On several occasions I would be exploring a space when a performer would enter, accompanied by a phalanx of masked observers, while a further crowd of blank, grey faces accumulated in nearby windows - in one case, while snow fell from above.

  This, for me, is a fascinating part of Punchdrunk.  The mask's design adds a silent, eerie presence to the scenes, as if the play is also about the phantoms that haunt the world into which you've been flung - the crowd of masked onlookers almost appear to be some sort of benign Doctor Who creature that no one else can see, and then you remember that you're one of them!  You are a part of the performance.

  As a result of this revelation, and of the feeling one acquires from wearing a mask that renders one anonymous, I found myself moving slowly and deliberately around the building, and in scenes that took place in smaller spaces, I acted back at the performers.  Additional scenes take place in the form of 'one-on-ones', where an actor may take you by the hand and directly involve you in part of the performance.  (These are entirely voluntary, but I recommend going with it.)  I was invited by one of the actors into one such scene, which was a fascinating, intimate moment, and one where - almost in a trance - my focus was precisely where it needed to be, making it almost filmic.  I was spellbound for several minutes, and it took some shaking off.

  It is impossible that you will see everything on one visit.  You won't see the story, but you will see a story.  What you make of it is entirely down to you.  I feel I saw a broad spectrum during my exploration, and I'm sure there are things I saw hints of that I would have loved to explore further.  What you will see will be impressive, with some amazing choreography (the dance in the trees is spectacular), and as I have previously said, the level of detail in the piece is frankly astonishing.  You would be hard-pressed not to find yourself totally immersed in the world that has been created.

  It was invigorating to be in a place so huge, yet the fact I was in it meant a lot.  I was an extra part of the furniture, which meant I could wander wherever I fancied, observing what I liked, as life happened around me.  Which is how I like it.

My Heart's Had Enough

  I'm not very good at love.

  I've always thought I was, but all the evidence points otherwise.  I'd like to believe that I'm the Henry DeTamble, the steady reassuring force that gives someone the will and confidence to enjoy life, and who receives the same in kind, while in reality, I am Charlie Brown, holding on to the crayon left behind by the Little Red-Haired Girl, watching a world of possibilities rise and fall in front of him.

  I'd love for that to be the limit of my skills, but you can also add "Standing idly by while people leave" to my CV.

  The other day, I was in a shop while Al Green's  "Love Is A Beautiful Thing" played over the PA, and caught myself thinking, for the first time ever, "No it isn't, it's utter crap!" - the expectation of those who are not yet loved, the crippling panic, the loneliness it causes in its absence.  Thanks, but you can keep it, reverend.

  There is nothing like the emotional surge when you meet someone you like, who stands out from everyone else in the room.  Every time you're in the same room as them, there's an electricity, an elevation in the senses, and you'd do anything to put a smile on that person's face and make them happy.

  When that expectation nosedives into a bout of unrequited love, however, it knocks you sick.  There is, equally, nothing quite like that feeling either.  The aching sadness of one more special person in the world who doesn't like you 'like that' is a lead weight, no matter how philosophical you try to be, no matter how much you proclaim (as true as it genuinely is) that you're glad to know that person.

  And so you plod on, waiting for that exchanged moment of eye contact that could conduct lightning, hoping for a moment that sets the process off all over again, trying to be nonchalant (and occasionally failing).

  I don't know what I want out of life, I'm pretty sure it doesn't involve being a father, I'm also pretty sure it does involve music, but I'm heartsick now.  I've had enough.  My heart's had enough.  I'd be happy to keep going as I am and not have a care in the world, but that old loneliness stabs at my core whenever I have an unguarded moment (which occurs quite a lot, what with my head being in the clouds and such), and it can't be fought at every turn.  I just have to walk on and swallow down this empty ache every five steps.

  Mourning the past, enjoying the present, worrying about the future.  Why change old habits?