Thursday, 27 November 2008


The Graham Norton Show
4x08 (20/11/08 edition, uncut repeat)

Little Dorrit
Part 10 (of 14)
Today, it's the turn of Mr Meagles to receive a "go --!" cry, and the accompanying "hurrah!"

Never Mind the Buzzcocks
22x09 (27/11/08 edition)
It's the 198th episode special! Only on Buzzcocks, eh.

Three Apparitionses, two Sarah Jane Adventureses, two Survivorses, two Heroeses, and a single Spooks. Yes, I'm shockingly behind on any TV show whose name ends in "S". (Plus Lead Balloon, 8 Out of 10 Cats, Ponderland (just tonight's in each case), and Heroes Unmasked -- of which there are four.)


Marvel 1602 by Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert & Richard Isanove
Part Seven
After all the action, the pace slows a tad, moving pieces into place for the final bumper-length part. There's some added plot twists for good measure, though it must be said that most aren't all that surprising.


Doctor Who Magazine: Special Edition #21
In Their Own Words - Volume Five: 1987-96
I'm always buying these things and not really getting round to reading them, but I did have a proper flick through this for once and read some bits, so there, including the very up-to-date (it references Tom Baker's Have I Got News...) Introduction by Benjamin Cook, and a rather good Afterword by Paul Cornell.


Don't dismiss Heat. It's a very superior product by Philip Hensher
(from Philip Hensher's column at The Independent)
Hensher is an interesting beast -- one minute he'll seem like a literary snob, slating the likes of Harry Potter and Alexander McCall Smith, but then merrily defend Heat magazine. Agree or not, at least he can make a reasonable argument.

What scandal lurks behind The Wire? by Philip Hensher
(from Philip Hensher's column at The Independent)
Everyone loves The Wire. Except, no one watches it. I really must get round to it myself...

Poem of the Day: To the Dead in the Graveyard Underneath My Window

by Adelaide Crapsey

How can you resist a title like that? Especially when it was written by a woman in 1914.

As for the poem itself, in my estimation it starts off well but begins to meander and go on a bit, getting a little too dense for its own good toward the end. Nonetheless, it's an interesting one.

Written in A Moment of Exasperation

How can you lie so still? All day I watch
And never a blade of all the green sod moves
To show where restlessly you toss and turn,
And fling a desperate arm or draw up knees
Stiffened and aching from their long disuse;
I watch all night and not one ghost comes forth
To take its freedom of the midnight hour.
Oh, have you no rebellion in your bones?
The very worms must scorn you where you lie,
A pallid mouldering acquiescent folk,
Meek habitants of unresented graves.
Why are you there in your straight row on row
Where I must ever see you from my bed
That in your mere dumb presence iterate
The text so weary in my ears: "Lie still
And rest; be patient and lie still and rest."
I'll not be patient! I will not lie still!
There is a brown road runs between the pines,
And further on the purple woodlands lie,
And still beyond blue mountains lift and loom;
And I would walk the road and I would be
Deep in the wooded shade and I would reach
The windy mountain tops that touch the clouds.
My eyes may follow but my feet are held.
Recumbent as you others must I too
Submit? Be mimic of your movelessness
With pillow and counterpane for stone and sod?
And if the many sayings of the wise
Teach of submission I will not submit
But with a spirit all unreconciled
Flash an unquenched defiance to the stars.
Better it is to walk, to run, to dance,
Better it is to laugh and leap and sing,
To know the open skies of dawn and night,
To move untrammeled down the flaming noon,
And I will clamour it through weary days
Keeping the edge of deprivation sharp,
Nor with the pliant speaking on my lips
Of resignation, sister to defeat.
I'll not be patient. I will not lie still.

And in ironic quietude who is
The despot of our days and lord of dust
Needs but, scarce heeding, wait to drop
Grim casual comment on rebellion's end;
"Yes, yes . . Wilful and petulant but now
As dead and quiet as the others are."

And this each body and ghost of you hath heard
That in your graves do therefore lie so still.

And after all that talk of death, remember: tomorrow's Funny Friday.