Monthly Archives: November 2008

Season One, Episode Three – ‘Bay Of Married Pigs’

I’m starting to really like the theme tune. It’s soothing, and reassuring in the way that ‘Moon Safari’ by Air was. It just evokes feelings of bliss in me, which I hope isn’t a sign of me beginning to enjoy the show, whose theme this episode seems to be about marriage, relationshps, and the difference between that and singledom.

The aforementioned feelings of calmness were obliterated about 30 seconds into the episode, when a character by the name of ‘Patience’ is introduced. Apparently one of Carrie’s friends from whenever, I stopped listening after the name ‘Patience’ was uttered. I know, it’s fictional, and I’m all for ripping up the rule-book (I’ve cheated on Monopoly at least once,) but who in their right mind thought ‘Patience’ was a good name for someone, fictional or otherwise? If you’re going to name your child something silly, at least do it properly, and take George Costanza’s advice…

Anyway, basic tone of the episode – are married people happy, and perhaps more crucially – are they the enemy? To be honest, I couldn’t really tell what the outcome was, because to my horror Charlotte has ditched the specs and shortish hair, and gone into her all-American girl mode just three episodes in. Terrible. It was a pretty boring episode all in all, although I was reminded of one of life’s all time most awkward situations. Miranda and the women she is having a faux lesbian relationship with (don’t ask) are walking down the street, when one of them meets someone they know, whilst the other looks a little coy. Terrible situations that, it almost makes me wish I smoked – but then I come to my senses, and realise I’m not a prick.

Softball was mentioned. Isn’t that a sport for bullied children and frustrated dads?

Miranda raised my ire again this episode, moaning about being single all the time. All the mug does is talk about dinner parties, or whining about something. I was trying to decide the other day who my fantasy dinner party line up was the other day during a particularly boring bus journey. I chose to go for people who wouldn’t really get along with each other – Nick Griffin and Alexei Sayle seated opposite each other, and Andrew Sachs sitting opposite the entire cast of ‘Hairspray’. Griffin would provide the casual racism, Sayle the passion and spittle, Sachs the chance of an early death to liven things up, and the Hairspray gang could give us some smashing song and dance numbers.

Aren’t there more important things to worry about than being single? Not according to Carrie ‘Mole’ Bradshaw. It’s hard to imagine someone so self centered, until you read a newspaper and read about Jade Goody, the useless goofy cunt. Carrie even uses the phrase ‘he’s not my boyfriend, he’s someone i’m trying on’, at one stage. Germaine Greer would be turning in her grave, had she not already been rejected by heaven (too cuntish) and hell (too cuntish) and thus is doomed to a life of selling her once beautiful soul out forever more.

Some soft lad mentions that “I don’t understand you women” towards the end, which left me utterly perplexed, at his perplextion. People like that just don’t deserve to live. And neither should the idiot who had the idea to play ‘R.E.S.P.E.C.T’ at the end of an episode where all four characters (Samantha shagged a busboy by the way) found out that perhaps love wasn’t going to come to them – hardly empowering, so hardly relevant. I only wish they’d played this instead, and saved us a whole load of time and effort. Bunch of sodding animals.

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Season One, Episode Two – ‘Models and Mortals’

Carrie’s mole is fucking huge.

This episode mainly focuses on men, and those that chase, and those that don’t. In one corner, we have geezers who like to chase, and fuck models. The sort who idolise women who model, and put them on hilarious plateaus. We’re introduced to some guy who brings a woman home every week to a dinner party, where he asks them the same question every time – which film star, alive or dead would you most like to fuck and at which period? None of them plumped for my answer – Andre The Giant in ‘The Princess Bride’, but I’ll let them off it. Anyway, this guy brought Miranda home for a change, and she’s puzzled as she’s told that usually he brings home models, but he was coerced by his friends to bring home someone with a bit of personality, as opposed to the say nothing idiots. Miranda doesn’t know how to react to this..

Perhaps that’s why she’s my least favourite character (after two episodes to be fair.) One minute she’s muted at the thought that she’s not model-like, and the next she’s indecisive about going out with some geeky guy who is infatuated with her – this hypocrisy within the world of women astounds me. Quick tip for you all – if you find someone who actually likes you for who you are – fucking make the most of it! Don’t chase losers, grow to love someone who’ll actually take care of you, rather than pinning your hopes on losers. Mugs.

Other things that happened in this episode – all the girls discussed what they didn’t like about themselves (thighs, chins, and noses were mentioned) before glorious, lovely Samantha said she loved the way she looked. If I was a sparkly American gay lad, I would have whooped and hollered ‘YOU GO GIRL!’, but alas I showed restraint, and merely smiled to myself. Fair play to her, and fair play to anyone who loves exactly who you are – that’s how life should be, don’t let yourself get sucked into misery. Sometimes I really think I should be writing motivational (martivational) speeches.

The X-Factor song is fucking rubbish. What a way to tarnish a brilliant song with that filth. And putting the cunt Eggnog or whatever his name is, and Diane ‘I can’t actually sing so I’ll try and do what Alanis Morrissette does and flap my hands around a bit’ Vickers in to sing the last line smacks of a ploy to get them to be the final two. Which they will – I predict my boys JLS will just miss out on the final, which is a shame. Quite like Alexandra and Ruth as well. Erm…

Some little notes I put down when the show was on – ‘gay man – bald, what a surprise’, ‘fashion shows are rank’, ‘Carrie smokes – what a dirty filthbag’, ‘are women really this neurotic?’, etc.

What I gleaned from this episode, is that basically women play many more games than men. All the planning they do, all the attempts to control everything that happens – it’s a bit sick. From these first two episodes, I implore you all to be more like Samantha, although if you could keep your legs shut a little bit more than she does, it’d be a bit better. You’ll notice Charlotte has got no mention this time – that’s cos she had about four lines, and just stood there looking smouldering in her glasses. I assume she gets more impact as time goes on, as she’s getting criminally underused here.

The last word, was again said by this mystical brute ‘Mr Big’. Following a conversation with Carrie about why men chase models, he was typically mute, until he unleashed the killer line (following on from an earlier comment about men loving beautiful women..) – ‘after that you wanna be with the one that makes you laugh’, which ended the episode on a beautiful note, until Carrie burst into a grin, with that mole growing bigger and bigger until the whole screen was nothing but pus and botox…

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Season One, Episode One – ‘Sex And The City’

..And so it begins.  I’ve now managed to obtain all the series of Sex And The City, so can now commence with the reviews, and start with enlightening myself as a person, or something along the lines of that.

As I stuck the DVD in the slot, I wondered about TV shows I actually like, and whether the first series of each were the best, or whether they got better as they went along. Seinfeld – first few seasons were definitely funny, but it really hit its peak around seasons 5 and 6. Boston Legal has gotten better the longer it’s gone on, whereas Arrested Development was absolute gold in season one, but subsequent series – whilst still funny got a bit more tedious. Of course, the shows that I think are similar to Sex And The City in terms of audience – Friends, Will and Grace etc, tend to be really hit and miss – I can’t think of a quality season for each, but I can think of lots of episodes I enjoy of both. Never shamefully though, because guilty pleasures are for batty’s.

You can tell a lot about a show by its theme tune, and immediately this show disappoints. A dull, semi-catchy instrumental piece welcomes us to the show, in a very low-key way. Carrie Bradshaw saunters about in a ballet outfit, showing off her wiry physique, her mole only match-stick sized at this period. What struck me about this episode (in contrast to the snippets of others I’ve seen,) was that Carrie spoke direct to camera, ala John Cusack in High Fidelity, which I thought was surprisingly effective. Part of my beef with the programme is the lack of empathy with the characters, although of course this is judged purely on brief watching. Carrie is horrendously hypocritical, Samantha is obnoxious, Miranda is dull, and Charlotte is, well yawnsome. Hopefully throughout the series I will grow to love them, like someone with AIDS grows to love their weakened immune system.

So, the actual episode… not much happens. The scrawled page of notes I jotted down mostly contained jibes against Miranda’s flame hair, although there was certain things that occurred that piqued my interest. Firstly, Charlotte is hot – genuinely. None of the characters can really be considered beautiful, but Charlotte looks vaguely hot and arty in this episode, rather than the try hard that came later. I assume this is the pilot, so obviously things changed along the way, but certainly Charlotte seems slightly different from what I imagined – she’s a bit kooky, and not quite the sap I had her down as. Samantha bangs along as her normal slutty self – a particular low point was when it was revealed that some geezer had never called up once after they ‘dated’ – which perhaps already shows her weakness – and why she acts like a cocksucker.

The plot was basically Carrie trying to empower herself, by acting like a man in bed. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean scratching and watching late night repeats of ‘Lead Balloon’ on Dave, but rather by acting selfishly, and harshly. Carrie discovers that whilst that initial power rush is nice, the emptiness doesn’t feel so good. Life changing – and they say feminism did nothing. My problem with Carrie, was that what makes her right to write a column about anything, when she’s so fucking dim? At one point she raises the question ‘did all men want women promiscuous?’ – firstly, blatant sexism against my gorgeous male contingent, and secondly – how ignorant? Whoever scripted this stuff has watched Cabaret one too many times. Carrie smoulders like a cunt, but goes against everything she believes in – AND THEN FEELS EMPTY! Where’s the message there? Don’t act confident because it’s shit? Stay in a rut? Who knows? Who cares.

At the arse end of the episode we see ‘Mr Big’ and Carrie share a ‘cab’ ride through New York, which if anything, proves that if you feel like you haven’t got enough unlikable characters in a television show – why not add another one?

Until next time.

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Introduction

I’m a fairly bored student, living in some shithole in London searching for an identity. Tired of my beautiful creativity dying a death, I’m seeking out to try and better myself as a person. Instead of doing something worthwhile – learning a language, picking up ‘chicks’, or learning how to darn, I’ve chosen to watch my least favourite television show of all time, in order, all the way through. Can I justify this though? I have no idea.

Every male in the world likes to think they can read women, but can they really? Are females truly the mysterious beauties the media would like us to believe? From the builders lust when they catch a glimpse of Kerry, 18 on Page 3 of The Sun, to the fey indie boys shyly wanking over a grainy youtube video of an American Apparel model – women are seen as enchanting, yet difficult – alluring and confusing, sexy and teary. What can a geezer do to really ‘know’ women?

By watching Sex and the City apparently.

A show, about four thirty-something ‘sassy’ New York women. Written by some American man – probably bald. It’s not the most appetising of TV show descriptions, especially when compared to say, ‘The Wire’ (angry young black men get ANGRY), or ‘Soccer Saturday’ (hilarious host talks shit with various ex-alcoholic, ex football players for six hours.) Based on the snippets I’ve seen of the show, it’s something I will downright loathe – but surely there must be a charm to it, some genius that I’ve not yet glimpsed. Why else would it be adored by the loveable rogues that is womankind the world over? Surely it can’t just be the gorgeous shoes? Women can’t be THAT shallow can they?

Who knows? Not me, which is why I’ve decided to plough through every single episode, one a day, in order to try and explore the female psyche, enrich myself as a person, and perhaps most importantly, to marvel at the only leading performance by an animal in a long running television series (excluding ‘Alf’ as he was more of a creature,) that being the sterling rendition of the horse, which plays journalist ‘Carrie Bradshaw’, who I’m led to believe is one of the main characters in the show.

So there you have it. Will I grow to love the show or not? Will my opinion that acting like those four battered old foxes is a terrible way for women to behave? Will their constant chasing of cock lead to me turning gay? What about the complex web of peripheral characters? What about Miranda’s ginger mane? Samantha’s rampant sex drive? Carrie’s ever growing mole? and who could forget Charlo…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

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