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purpletigron for alerting me to tonight’s Never Mind the Buzzcocks repeat being a John Barrowman smutty innuendo-fest (with a side order of buttock-fondling). Much fun. Then we switched over to watch Torchwood, which was tedious. Buffy did the mind-reading bit so much better. I am beginning to wonder if RTD has been paid to give an illustration of what the word
There was much comment recently about the Cyberbikini episode suggesting that the writers and production team were basically a bunch of adolescent male wankers. This episode is much stronger evidence, not just because Guest Crumpet With Tits Hanging Out [Whose acting, by the way, was quite astonishingly bad. Straight from the Emperor Ming School of Subtly Disguised Evil. She made Gwen look well-acted.] bedded Tosh (who, for the mercifully uninitiated, is another woman, though as someone pointed out in a review, a dangerously named character for this sort of series), but because no one working on it seems ever to have actually had a job, to judge from the bizarre way the Torchwood working environment is depicted. Having been in a high pressure job where there was A LOT of steamy sex going on in the background (usually), it did not obtrude on the actual work the way it does with this bunch of clowns, who at no point seem to bear any resemblance to a team.
What is wrong with these people? (I mean the production team.) The best thing that you can say is that it is better than Robin Hood, but, frankly, Eldorado was better than Robin Hood.
I also wonder why they never focus on Jack much. He seems to bring things to life when he is in action. (Ironically, all things considered.) More Jack! Let’s see him whip a laser out of his bum again! Let’s have some fun! Good on Jack, though, for killing the GCWTHO at the end and being unapologetic about it.
Incidentally, and I hate to bring a note of reality in here, do you have any idea how hard it is to get into someone's ribcage? Look, I am not small, as those who have seen me will testify (and if you have not, remember, The Sunday Times described me as
Something else that Torchwood is better than, it seems, is The Catherine Tate Show. Unfortunately, saw a few minutes of this before Buzzcocks. It reminded me of Tittybangbang (Which is on its second series! Why?): a great deal of work and care, and not a single laugh. Why do they seem to think that great make-up jobs are ipso facto great comedy? Where do they get the nitrous oxide to pump into the studio to get the audience giggling?
It says something that the most intriguing thing in the whole evening was the continuity announcer’s comment about his wee Irish friend who was desperate to see Torchwood.
purpletigron for alerting me to tonight’s Never Mind the Buzzcocks repeat being a John Barrowman smutty innuendo-fest (with a side order of buttock-fondling). Much fun. Then we switched over to watch Torchwood, which was tedious. Buffy did the mind-reading bit so much better. I am beginning to wonder if RTD has been paid to give an illustration of what the word lacklustremeans.
There was much comment recently about the Cyberbikini episode suggesting that the writers and production team were basically a bunch of adolescent male wankers. This episode is much stronger evidence, not just because Guest Crumpet With Tits Hanging Out [Whose acting, by the way, was quite astonishingly bad. Straight from the Emperor Ming School of Subtly Disguised Evil. She made Gwen look well-acted.] bedded Tosh (who, for the mercifully uninitiated, is another woman, though as someone pointed out in a review, a dangerously named character for this sort of series), but because no one working on it seems ever to have actually had a job, to judge from the bizarre way the Torchwood working environment is depicted. Having been in a high pressure job where there was A LOT of steamy sex going on in the background (usually), it did not obtrude on the actual work the way it does with this bunch of clowns, who at no point seem to bear any resemblance to a team.
What is wrong with these people? (I mean the production team.) The best thing that you can say is that it is better than Robin Hood, but, frankly, Eldorado was better than Robin Hood.
I also wonder why they never focus on Jack much. He seems to bring things to life when he is in action. (Ironically, all things considered.) More Jack! Let’s see him whip a laser out of his bum again! Let’s have some fun! Good on Jack, though, for killing the GCWTHO at the end and being unapologetic about it.
Incidentally, and I hate to bring a note of reality in here, do you have any idea how hard it is to get into someone's ribcage? Look, I am not small, as those who have seen me will testify (and if you have not, remember, The Sunday Times described me as
hulking). I have on many occasions put a large proportion of my mass via my arms onto someone’s sternum, and there really was no chance of me just sticking my hand in and grabbing the heart. There is a reason surgeons have to use knives and saws and other pleasant instruments. Even if the victim were osteoporotic, you could not just stuff your fist in and grab the heart... and
Marywas specific about it being her new human body she used to do it, no strange alien attachments here.
Something else that Torchwood is better than, it seems, is The Catherine Tate Show. Unfortunately, saw a few minutes of this before Buzzcocks. It reminded me of Tittybangbang (Which is on its second series! Why?): a great deal of work and care, and not a single laugh. Why do they seem to think that great make-up jobs are ipso facto great comedy? Where do they get the nitrous oxide to pump into the studio to get the audience giggling?
It says something that the most intriguing thing in the whole evening was the continuity announcer’s comment about his wee Irish friend who was desperate to see Torchwood.