Showing posts with label the archers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the archers. Show all posts

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Archers XXX

Oh no. Following in the footsteps of execrable teen-soap Hollyoaks, The Archers ('an everyday story of farming folk' on Radio 4, established 1948) is getting a spin-off in a desperate attempt to support the rebranding of digital repeats station BBC7 as BBC4 Extra (or 4Xtra as they'll no doubt call it).

I agin it. It smacks of PR and of overextension.  Why not be good at one thing and leave it at that? I don't want to hear scriptwriters failing to be 'edgy' and 'cool'. I don't want to read Ed Grundy's Twitter feeds or see pictures of David Archer artificially inseminating the Holsteins. Uncut recordings of Usha and Alan's marital relations in the Vicarage - ugh. The Archers struggles enough without adding more - the recent visit of Camilla Parker-Bowles was painful propaganda of the worst sort: adding 'yoof' and 'relevance' is going to be an utter disaster.

The new show will feature more stories from in and around Ambridge, including new characters and storylines that are not featured in the main Radio 4 show.

A kind of ghetto? Will the poor, rebellious and ethnic ones be kept on the sink estate of Ambridge Extra while the grown-ups get on with fiddling their subsidy cheques?


"In the early episodes, we learn how Alice is getting on at university, and we meet Rhys, the barman at the Bull, who up to now has been a silent character," she said.
"There's also a chance to see what Jamie is getting up to behind his mother's back."


Noooooooooooooooooo!

All this sounds very non-canonical: a nightmare for proper fans and the Ambridge Socialists.

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

Page 43, Liars…

OK, the awards ceremony wasn't like the Golden Clerics (watch it here). For all my teasing, the prize-winners were the magnificent intellectuals I really miss - Selina, Dorota, Katrina and Ed (of this parish) who took the English prizes and have gone on to great things at prestigious institutions while others are similarly forging their own paths and it was lovely to see them all again.

However - management almost succeeded in turning the event into a something with all the charm and fire of a lost luggage queue: no inspiring speeches on the value of education or the students' achievements until the very end, when Andy (associate dean) did pointedly add a much-needed injection of politics and emotion to the proceedings, in stark contrast to his colleagues.

Highlight of the evening was Rachel Whittaker, winner of the History prize. In a very few minutes she managed to accept the prize, attack the notion of prizes in general, defend the principle of free education and proselytise very convincingly on the virtues of anarchism with astonishing intellectual acuity (we discovered later that she thinks syndicalism is anarchism while I think one wing of anarchism is syndicalism). In a couple of minutes she inspired those of us who might be feeling defeated or weary, and certainly reminded me why I'm an educator.

Anyway, tomorrow's a big day. Firstly, I'm off to Purcell's proto-opera The Fairy Queen in Birmingham, and secondly my boycott of The Archers is over. Normally I don't listen to it because it's smug and dull, but I've been not listening to it deliberately rather than accidentally for the past few weeks because I object to Radio 4 being used for monarchist propaganda: Camilla Windsor - Old Jug-Ears's Comfort Woman -  made a guest appearance today. Typically, the BBC ignored the cries of the peasantry.

Monday, 3 August 2009

Monday conundrum! What the hell is 'the British way of life'?

Ok, I'm still here. There's been a certain amount of traffic to my post on the government's plan to restrict freedom of speech to well-behaved citizens, and I'm still annoyed by the incredibly rightwing and intellectually vacuous nature of the idea. (The main discussion of this in relation to freedom of speech was in an astonishing interview on Radio 4)

However, Phil Woolas says that you can only have your say if you agree with 'the British way of life' (odd: you can say whatever you want as long as you agree), and you have to admit, there's a great argument to be had here. (What's he like? Try here).

So come on, what's your definition of 'British way of life'? Remember - you can't have anything specifically English, Scots or Welsh. Even the things that the Norn Irish unionists think are British aren't - e.g. wearing bowlers, hating Catholicism and fetishising the Queen.

'Britain' in its current state has only been around since 2000 or so - whenever the devolved Scots and Welsh assemblies opened. Before that, Ireland's withdrawal from the UK was 1922 or 1937 depending on your preference. Ireland was only technically 'in' since 1801, and Scotland was incorporated in 1601. 1563 saw the final conquering of Wales, and of course 'England' was merely a French Norman outpost for most of the 1066-1500 period. 'England' before that was a patchwork of Saxon and Celtic states. So really, it's a recent and unstable state, as Colley's Britons brilliantly demonstrates.

So what's 'British'? 100 years ago, you could have said that all the constituent nations got together to invade places, take their raw materials and hook them on opium (China, 19th century). Making things, inventing sports (playing them well was a colonial innovation). Speaking English was an English imposition on the rest of the UK, aided by eager sell-outs, but it didn't fully work. What else? Tea-drinking is quite popular in Ireland, India and China, though the former acquired the habit through the Empire.

There's a massive tradition of dissent and protest: the Peasants' Revolt, the Levellers, Diggers and so on during the Civil War, the Tolpuddle Martyrs, the Chartists, the NUM, Marx and Engels living here, and the Poll Tax rioters. Parliamentary democracy is a possible contender, though plenty of other states got there first (go Iceland) and perfected it quicker, by letting women and the poor vote, and of course lots of places don't have an unelected upper chamber and a first-past-the-post lower one.

Monarchy? A mixed blessing, and hardly original (or indeed native). Beautiful weather and landscape are strong contenders. Perhaps mass participation sports - cycling and rambling, though they were big in Germany too, until the Nazis banned them. The pound? OK, though retaining it hasn't been much use. Co-operative Societies were invented in Britain - a Welshman (Robert Owen) opened the first co-operative factory in Scotland (New Lanark) and the first co-operative society opened in Rochdale in 1839.

Strong trades unions were perhaps a British innovation, and they were closely tied to the very democratic forms of religion which sprouted in the 18th century - Methodism in particular (there's a saying - unfortunately true - that the Labour Party owes more to Methodism than to Marx). How about the famous British love of an eccentric, from Beckford to racist comic, philanderer and Mayor of London (Alexander) Boris Johnson?

Beckford:


'Boris' and his friends at university:

I guess there's literature, about which I shouldn't have to say much. I'd also be tempted to say that the vibrancy of pop culture is quite a British thing, though borders are porous in this regard. Political satire and a dark sense of humour are strong threads, though Serbs and Russians apparently share the same gloomy outlook. Nostalgia? Individualism? Consumerism? Benefit cheating? Jeremy Kyle? Eating sausages and chips on Spanish beaches? Loving animals more than their children (except for foxes)? The BBC, the Guardian, Steve Bell or the Daily Mail? White people in stately homes or mixed race couples on the streets of Wolverhampton?


Swearing. If there's one brilliant achievement of the British, it's swearing. Not so much the Welsh, as Welsh-language swearing is mostly religious oaths, but there's definitely a national love of inventive, baroque, witty swearing, such as Malcolm Tucker.

It's hard, isn't it? Cultures aren't monolithic: they influence and are influenced. Within any society there are competing and co-existing beliefs. That's what makes life a) fun and b) progressive - the dialectic ensures that ideas are debated. The goverment's plan is to preserve some bullshit idea of what constitutes Britishness (and you just know it's going to be a terrible bunch of self-righteous platitudes) and fix it in amber.

So what's the perfect Brit? A sunburned fat bloke in a union jack hat, slumped in front of Jeremy Kyle, calling Gordon Brown a See You Next Tuesday? If you don't like it, you can go back where you came from. And I'll come with you.

Or, is it an eccentrically-dressed union member of mixed race taking to the streets in righteous anger at the way the most vulnerable in society are treated, accompanied by a fantastic soundtrack - whether it be Late Junction on Radio 3 or Radio 1 (or The Archers)? I sure hope so. The point is that, like all societies, this one is plural, dynamic and mostly brilliant - trying to define it is like nailing jelly to the wall.

Thursday, 15 January 2009

This time it's personal

After five years, my old mobile phone is defunct and I've replaced it. Not, you might think, earth-shatteringly interesting or notable even in the life described to you so lovingly day-by-day. 

However, it's a big thing for me. At last, I can have my revenge. I'm tormented on the street, on trains and on buses by selfish, arrogant, noise-polluting gits who play music through those rubbish little speakers on their mobiles. It's a form of bullying, an announcement that their pleasure is more important than the comfort of the many people around them. When I'm in charge, there will be a special camp for them, with Penderecki's Threnody piped into the cells 24 hours a day.

In the meantime, my new phone will suffice. It's a cheap, boring phone, but it has a radio, a speaker and a 'record radio' function. I shall abuse these features mightily. I intend to record Veg Talk, You and Yours, Moneybox or even a specially bad episode of The Archers, one of the ones with Linda Snell or Jack Woolley in, and use them as weapons of retaliation. The next time some selfish bastard poisons the air with Akon, or Pussycat Dolls or some godforsaken emo, I shall blast them with the very worst of Radio 4 until they go away. Or stab me.