Harry Hill

A common misconception is that his name is actually Harry Hill, but it's not. He's called Matthew Hall, and Harry Hill is just his stage name. Brain surgeon turned comedian Harry Hill's been around for a fair while now, but it's only now that he's really tapped into the mainstream, and he really does deserve it. He's become so recognisable mostly because of 'TV Burp' (since 2001?!) and partly thanks to 'You've Been Framed'. I began watching TV Burp probably about 6 or 7 years ago, and I found it hilarious every week. It was scheduled at a rather awkward time though, if I remember correctly; at about 5 o'clock on a Saturday, so I could never convince the family to watch it as mum was preparing our meal (as usual...) and my dad and brother couldn't be arsed, presumably. Then the show got moved to a prime-time slot, and the viewers began to really pour in. He's managed to find a really clever but ever so simple blend of family friendly humour, with (at times) some more subtle, risky, adult undertones. Yes, since becoming more popular I do feel he has become less funny (for me personally) as unfortunately his material is becoming more geared towards the many simpletons of our beloved nation, but I still find it hard not to laugh at many of his programme's moments. Mocking bad TV is simply a funny thing to do, and I think it's something that could go on for a long time to come. As for You've Been Framed? Well, that's on its last legs for sure. The show has completely lost it (I'm not sure if it ever had 'it') - there's only so many times I can watch a man fall over whilst dancing, or a cat jumping into a window. In fact, I'm not too sure if it was ever really funny in the first place. Regardless, Harry Hill still does enough with his voice-over work to make the show slightly entertaining at least. On top of these, there's a couple of particularly interesting things that Harry Hill has been up to recently. He's got his own mini internet series, and boy, is it strange. Seriously. I've seen many many strange things in my time, but this is something else. It reminds me of a cross between TV Burp and Weebl's Stuff in terms of its style, and it's actually pretty funny. It lacks high production values, and it's certainly not something that everyone will 'get', but for a free web show, you really can't complain. It's good fun. Then there's a recently released album (yes, an album), which I can only wildly assume was made to have a stab at the massively cramped Christmas market. Titled 'Funny Times', it's had a pretty quiet landing. Funnily enough, I hadn't actually heard of this until I bought it for my mum for Christmas as a spur of the moment purchase. It's a risk, I know, but now after listening to it the whole way through, I'd say there's a pretty good chance that she'll enjoy it. I'm very impressed indeed actually. It's hit and miss, definitely, but it's genuinely quite funny at times; and it's quite astute in its statements. It's also easy to listen to and pretty catchy - not something that I expected to say. It certainly won't be an album that you'll stick on repeat, but I think it's got a broader scope than just 'listen to it once and put it away, never to be touched again' despite what the opening track jokingly suggests. If I was a professional reviewer, I'd give it a 6 or a 7 out of ten. But I'm not. So I won't. But here's the dilemma I'm currently facing.

I like TV Burp, but I also like Funny Times

But which is better?

There's only one way to find out...

Christmas...

So, yet again, for the 16th time in my life, Christmas day is nearly upon us. Great. For the past few years I've been well aware of my excitement towards the 25th of December declining rapidly, as I grow to become more of a little old man by the day. This year, I think I can safely say that I don't give a shit. I find that there's so much to dislike about the festive period, that it's hard to really get into the mood; especially this year. But why is this? Well...

1. A-Levels

In January. 4 exams. This means lots and lots of revision. Mind maps, cue cards, mock exams, reading and all that jazz - I've got to do a fair lump of it. If I was actually doing the revision, I'd be having a terrible holiday, but at least I'd be somewhat prepared for the looming exams. Instead though, I've decided to do shit all revision, and to sit around doing as little as possible for as long as I can. I know it's a dreadful tactic, but I'm enjoying myself, and I'm annoyingly inherently lazy, so I can't see this little routine changing any time soon. The thought of the ever nearing exams (and the impending mental rape that comes along with it) is certainly a mood spoiling thought, and I find that the only way to take my mind off it is to spend as long as I can on the xBox. Poor show, Ben. Watch this space, the panic and the frenzied revision will be starting soon - but it'll be all too late.

2. Christmas Music

They're all so cheery. I can't deal with it, I really can't. Every advertisement on the television or radio is not only drenched in garish Christmas themed colours and what not, but they're also given some delightful shitty music as a festive backdrop. Piss off. Give me a Muse song on your advert, and I may actually buy your product. There's not one Christmas song that I even remotely enjoy any more; not even Slade. There's a couple in particular that really get on my tits though (no, just joking, I don't have breasts...yet). No, you are not all that I want for Christmas. Selfish as it is, it'd be quite nice to get some other things too, and frankly, if you're going to be singing this song, if I could have just one present this year, it'd likely be for you to shut the fuck up. Yes, all I want for Christmas is for you to shut the fuck up. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? And no, I didn't give you my heart as a gift last year. That's absolutely preposterous. I may like you to some degree, perhaps a hell of a lot, but the feeling is never going to be strong enough for me to have to physically hand over my life giving bodily organ (and whatever bloody mess comes with it) to you. I'm not saying I wouldn't die for you, because in different circumstances I almost certainly would, but this is a very strange, inappropriate and quite awkward way of dying for someone. It's also totally unnecessary. Whoever it is that I'm so generously gifting my heart to, I'm pretty sure isn't going to want to be the recipient of it. Nobody asks for a human heart for Christmas. In fact, I really do struggle to think of many worse ideas for a Christmas present than this. If I'm saying I'll give my heart to someone, this person is probably a love interest. I'd be hoping that the feeling would be mutual, and upon my act of love and kindness, she'd say that she feels the same way. Presumably, then she'd give me her heart. Here's the issue. IF there's a genuinely good chance that this person would love me back (which there would have to be for me to make such a bold statement at Christmas), I'm pretty damn sure that the consequences of killing myself and then presenting her with my heart in some way would be completely horrific in terms of my chances of winning her over. Here's why. Firstly, I'd be dead. This acts on two levels, because not only would I be totally unable to move or function in any way at all, but I think the girl to whom I am giving my heart would be at least a little bit upset upon hearing that I am in fact dead, and that it was me who did it to myself. This is all under the hugely speculative presumption that this poor girl actually has some kind of romantic feeling towards me, of course. I don't want to come across as a tad negative, but I just have a niggling feeling that my death would perhaps obliterate my chances with the girl. Then there's the fact that she's clearly not going to appreciate the disgusting gift, and that she's most likely to reject it, leaving it inside my rotting corpse. Bah. Fucking song. Wait, what do you mean it's metaphorical?

3. Appalling Television Schedule

For some reason, over the Christmas period (so from about the beginning of December 'til the end of the year, apparently) television becomes a source of visual and audial cack. It is anyway, yes, but the concentration of faeces is considerably higher. It seems that every channel becomes ITV in its way of dealing out consistently bollocks programmes that all look rather...cheap. It hurts that the BBC stoop this low. They more than anyone else deal out half baked spin-offs of popular shows, or one off episodes of a long gone classic, or maybe a Christmas special of everybody's favourite chef. Needless to say they almost always turn out poor. And this year is unfortunately no exception to the rule. Remember the Two Ronnies? Remember how incredibly funny they were, and how they will always be remembered as comedy legends? Somehow I can't see 'The One Ronnie' going down as quite such a classic. Brace yourself for a brutal murdering of entertainment, folks. I can't bear to watch.

4. Wrapping Presents

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!


I just don't really like Christmas any more, that's the depressing reality. It's come to a stage where the bad may very well outweigh the good, and it's a real shame. As a young child Christmas was truly magical. Up until the point where common sense and basic logic enters your mind, and you realise that there's not a hope in hell that that fat man could traverse the globe, giving presents to every single human being. His air miles must be atrocious. Actually, if Santa was real, wouldn't he be incredibly racist? He completely misses out Africa! Urgh, I can't believe I used to like that man. I feel sick now; white supremacist bastard...! Actually, speaking of Africa, I'm really glad that various charities have produced special Christmas adverts for their organisations. Now's a great time for people to be donating, and I really hope they do well from it. Some say the adverts are a bit of a mood killer, and that they're out of place, but to be honest, there's just no complaining; we've got to stay grounded, and appreciate just how lucky we are. Even if it's for a lost cause, which I deeply regrettably think Africa is, the more we can do to help, the better. It's weird, I really haven't even thought about receiving presents this year. I'm actually more excited about my family opening the gifts that I've bought them. So long as they like what I've got for them, of course. But anyway, grumpiness and irritating moaning aside for now, I really hope you all (yes, both of you!) have a genuinely great Christmas. If you're facing exams, try your best to enjoy it. Everyone else, party hard, bitches!

Merry Christmas :)

Robot Wars

Roboteers, stand by.

3...2...1...ACTIVATE!

Robot Wars was brilliant, wasn't it? I used to love it, and to this day I still do. It must have been roughly 10 years ago that I started watching it, and boy was I a fan. I had the 'funfax', the annual, the fact book, the toys, the board game, and a hell of a lot of episodes recorded onto VHS tapes (remember them?!). BBC2, on Tuesdays (I think) at around the same time as The Weakest Link and The Simpsons. Those really were the days. As far as television series go, Robot Wars is certainly up there. It's the perfect male programme. Scrap metal? Check. Axes? Check. Flames? Check. Pneumatic flippers? Check. Buzz saws? Check. Flywheels? Check. Pit of doom? Check. Flying sparks? Check. Loud noises? Check. PURE CARNAGE?! Oh, check. The entertainment that could be had from watching Robot Wars never ceased to amaze the 6-10 year old me. Granted, it's not for everyone - but it was definitely for me. Thanks to opinions, there's no programme strictly for everybody, but let's not go into philosophical mode. Today is the day for nostalgia mode. I'll always have fond memories of Robot Wars, because there were so many excellent moments (and thankfully because when I was younger I seemed to have a knack for remembering slightly obscure pieces of information). Polka dot fur clad Diotor being set on fire every single fight, Razer taking down the 'immortal' Sir Killalot (and also Matilda), Chaos 2's domination (followed by Tornado), RefBot getting flipped, Hypnodisc meeting Pussycat (with devastating results), the lightweight special match in which a robot was literally flattened, the 'ant-bot' fight with the miniature scaled down replicas, the first and only time I saw the robot that was designed to be a gran in a wheelchair, the cluster bot genius of Gemini...I'll cherish all these moments, for as long as I can. Judging by the fact that I'm rather old man like as it is, that may not be very long at all. The demise of Robot Wars was came way too early. The concept had a lot of legs left - it only needed a bit of freshening up. And that's exactly what happened. The Beeb introduced two new house robots, to join the rotating cast of Sir Killalot, Sergeant Bash, Dead Metal, Matilda, and Shunt. They were called Mr Psycho and Growler. Unfortunately, to put it bluntly they sucked. And blunt they were. One was essentially Sir Killalot 2 with totally inefficient weaponry, while the other was a fast dog thing. Seriously. Luckily, to outweigh the disappointing nature of the new house robot recruits, a totally new feature was implemented into the war zone. Alongside the flipper, the pit, the angle grinders, the flame jets, and the steam jets, a new environmental hazard was added. They called it the drop zone, and boy was it good. Wildly inconsistent, but good. Want to see a washing machine dropped on a robot? Sure thing. 20 bowling balls? Okey dokey. It was a case of overkill though, as 'The Disc of Doom' was brought into play as yet another arena hazard. The less said the better - it was bollocks.  And it's here that my best memories of Robot Wars ends. For reasons that I'm unaware of, BBC sold the rights of the show to (gulp) Channel 5, and in all honesty they made it a bit shit. It was a bit limp, and commercial breaks never help (nor does the fact that NOBODY FUCKING WATCHES CHANNEL FIVE), so the show was shortly scrapped. It can't have been scrapped due to a lack of interest though. No no, I know plenty of people who would love for the show to return to our screens - me included! Thankfully, the robots themselves were not scrapped. Though I'm unaware of the details, apparently the robots and their drivers that we grew to know and love are still duking it out regularly as part of 'The Fighting Robot Association'. Their battles are not to be televised. Boo hiss. I would love for Robot Wars to make a grand return as much as I love Anchorman - and bloody hell do I love Anchorman! Please, somebody make it happen.

CEASE!

Guilty Pleasure Music

We all have at least one. An artist that we can't help but listen to and enjoy, even though for whatever reason we feel as though we shouldn't. Is it because it's embarrassing? Or is it just an obscure anomaly in comparison to the rest of your music taste? (Nothing wrong with going for an eclectic range). Or is it even because you're just paranoid? OR are you just looking at me with one eyebrow raised aloft, higher than the other, wondering what the hell 'guilty pleasure music' is and why the hell I'm still chatting on about like the figure of a man who seems to think that he's legally obliged to write any old blog about any old crud that comes into his mind, as often as possible? If you're answering with 'yes' to the final question, I advise that you walk on by and never speak of this event again. You won't like it here. Me personally? I'm rather partial to a bit of Jamiroquai here and there. I have no shame in saying that, so it's not really a guilty pleasure as such, but it's certainly the biggest digression in style from my usual lot, and it is a bit unorthodox for a 16 year old straight guy to be a self declared Jamiorquai fan. To be fair, 'fan' I am not, but I do like their music (it took me years to realise it was a band and not in fact a person...) Jay Kay is clearly a talented man. He's the white man with the voice and moves of a black woman. He's certainly a character too. Allegedly a bit of a man whore, he also has a massive sweet spot for a different kind of sexy chassis...he loves his fast cars. He's arrogant, confrontational, and funny. I don't want to, but I must say that I do like the man. He's been doing his thing for the best part of 20 years now, and his latest work with the band (apparently a totally new line up) 'Rock Dust Light Star' proves that he's back to his best. Jesus, I'm starting to sound like an undercover advertiser now. I'm not though. And if I was, I would have told you. Promise. FINE, if you still don't believe me - would an advertisement say this publicly about a product that it is trying to shine light upon and sell? "Rock Dust Light Star is a dreadful album title, and the cover sleeve of Jay Kay gurning towards the camera with what looks like a space-station (designed by the product of a flid passing architectural college) attached to his head is pretty bad." There we go. I have no allies here, see? Man, the lengths I'd go to to prove my relative impartiality.

If you can relate to what I'm trying to say (and you've managed to wade through all the thick babble that has collected up from the steady spewing of my mouth, above), and you have some guilty pleasure music of your own, then please feel free to share. Without comments I feel alone...so alone...

Es ist sehr kalt!

Y'see, what I learnt in GCSE German hasn't been completely wasted! It's cold. So very cold. There's no denying it. We're getting snow in late November and early December, and everyone's freezing their gonads off. What fun. Could you imagine if this spread all the way until Christmas day? We'd never hear the last of "2010's White Christmas". I can't say I particularly like the idea of that - especially considering that it'd stop the family from congregating. Actually, if we were to have a white Christmas, wouldn't that mean Bing Crosby would never have to dream of experiencing one again? So theoretically we'll never have to hear that blasted song again...! FUCK YOU, CHRISTMAS SPIRIT! Ahem. But no, seriously, it's pretty damn cold out now, and I'm not liking it. Traditionally I'll be wearing t-shirts and thin trousers in the winter (causing my mum to freak like Shigeru Miyamoto after he's seen Playstation Move's sales performance), but this year, I'm in long sleeved tops and a coat, and I'm still cold. What's that all about? Have I all of a sudden become very sensitive to the cold? Maybe it's just because I'm down by the coast every day. As if being close to Yarmouth was bad enough, now I can freeze my bollocks off while I'm there and taking my A Levels. I refuse to wear hats and scarves though. I have an innate aversion to them, I think. Or maybe I had a mentally damaging accident with them when I was younger, that I just don't remember. Maybe it'd be best for me if I can't remember it? For me, not even the appeal of being able to act out a role play of a hat saying "You hang around while I go on ahead" to a scarf is enough to get me to want to wear them. On a side note, born out of curiosity, if it snows while the sun is shining, can we see a 'snowbow'?