Viz used to run an excellent comic strip called ‘The Bottom Inspectors’, in which a group of Gestapo-like officials pounced on unsuspecting civilians and scrutinised their backsides for signs of poor wiping technique. Kim and Aggie are a bum-hair away from making it a reality.
The performance artists are up their own arses. But at least they’re not up other people’s, like these two crotch-sniffing hags.
Damage Limitation [24 September]
It’s amazing how many bad things start with the letter ‘D’. Death, doom, damnation, despair, destruction, disaster, Davros, Des’ree, Da Republican Party … and now Dirty War (BBC1), the spiritual heir to classic BBC scarefests like The War Game and Threads – two shows that could convince almost anyone to commit suicide by the time the end credits stopped rolling.
So how does it measure up? Could it give you nightmares? Does it leave you reeling with queasy, futile horror? Will it stink out your living room with a sense of looming cataclysm so overpowering you’ll want to cry all the water out of your body and swim away to deadland?
Not really.
Simply put, the prospect of a dirty bomb going pop isn’t quite as horrifying as the complete and utter destruction of the world, something The War Game and Threads had on their side. In fact, the body count is surprisingly low.
Having said that, the programme as a whole feels uncomfortably authentic, and should leave you feeling, oooh, 70 per cent less secure than you do right now. Depressingly, it also leaves you certain that a dirty bomb will definitely, absolutely and unequivocally go off at some point in the near future. That’s a given. Threads urged the audience to reconsider the madness of nuclear proliferation; Dirty War simply asks the authorities to provide sufficient damage limitation.
And it’s gripping. There’s a fair amount of clunky dialogue in which officials quote statistics at one another, but the overall sense of clammy hysteria is both undeniable and frightening.
Still, it’s not all bad news. For one thing, the need for immediate decontamination means that if a dirty bomb goes off near your office, you’ll get to see all your workmates stripping off and showering, like, totally naked. Honestly, you’d see it all: bums, balls, boobs, fannies, willies – the lot.
I can’t stress this highly enough – you will definitely, absolutely and unequivocally see your boss’s bum.
Secondly, since a dirty bomb would leave a large section of the capital uninhabitable for decades, house prices would tumble – thereby allowing me to finally gain a foothold on the property ladder. Christ, I could probably buy Clarence House for 25p.
So there you go. Always a silver lining.
There’s more death on offer in Mediums: Talking to the Dead (BBC2), a remarkable three-parter following some of the nation’s leading corpse whisperers as they ply their trade.
From where I’m sitting, the vast majority of them are despicable liars – ghastly, bare-faced, ruthless, coin-eyed, opportunist, exploitative, nauseating lickpennies prepared to milk the grieving and bewildered for everything they’ve got, and I’d sincerely like to glue them face-first to a dining table and kick their arses purple with a pair of concrete boots.
That’s how I usually feel about mediums.
Yet even I was flummoxed into silence by Gordon Smith, ‘Britain’s Most Accurate Medium’; who’s either the most amazing trickster I’ve ever seen, or genuinely psychic, or genuinely conversing with the dead.
Not only is he the most humble medium involved in the show, he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to rely solely on guesswork and fibbing. Smith’s communications are spot on, first time, every time – right down to the full Christian and surnames of the deceased.
Every fibre of my being tells me it must be a trick, but I’m damned if I can see how it works. Mind you, I used to think that about Derren Brown, until his latest series seemed packed with obvious stooges and he rather lost his mystic sheen.
Speaking of Derren Brown, I recently noticed the publicity for his live shows contained a quote from this very column – ‘Clearly the greatest dinner party guest in history … or the scariest man in Britain.’
Curiously, the full sentence originally read ‘Clearly the greatest dinner party guest in history – he’s either a balls-out con artist or the scariest man in Britain.’
He must’ve erased the con artist bit with some super-magic ‘mind control’, eh? Now that’s magic!
Screen Burn FAQ
How can I go about getting a cushy job like yours?
God knows. Tim Lusher, editor of the Guide, asked me to submit a sample column and that was that. If you want to write for a magazine or newspaper, your best bet is to send them some relevant samples and hope they like them. If they turn you down, and you still believe in your own abilities despite the mounting evidence to the contrary, set up a website and write your own columns on there. Update it regularly, keep your writing short and to the point, and if you’re any good and/or lucky you’ll get a job offer eventually.
Why is it called ‘Screen Burn’?
For a description of what ‘screen burn’ itself means, read the ‘Live and Dangerous’ article in the ‘Pre-Screen’ chapter. As for why I thought it made a good name for the column, I think it was a pitiful attempt to sound all cool and hard and that. Christ, I hate me.
Have you ever met anyone you’ve slagged off?
Yes. But they usually don’t realise it’s me, and I’m fucked if I’m going to draw their attention to it. Besides, I’d feel bad. Kate Thornton recently held a door open for me as I was entering a building, and as she did so, she smiled so sweetly I felt guilty for describing her as ‘the human equivalent of a scarcely detectable kitten’s fart’ the previous Saturday. But that way madness lies.
A major advantage of not having a whopping great byline photo above each column is that you get to retain some anonymity. Another advantage is that people won’t point at your photo and laugh a lot and say ‘no wonder he’s so bitter’ for six thousand hours.
Do you choose what you’re going to watch or does the Guide choose it for you, or what? By and large, I look through the schedules in advance and choowhatever I want. Then I phone up the broadcasters and get a preview tape biked over, assuming one’s available.
If there’s going to be a big feature in the Guide about a particular show, I’ll generally avoid it, in order to reduce overkill. Also, Grace Dent writes a very funny column about soaps every month, so I can’t cover those. Which is a pain when the deadline’s drawing near and all you’ve got to go on is a few ropey old documentaries about archaeology, I can tell you.
Don’t you ever actually like anything?
Of course. You couldn’t do a job like this if you didn’t essentially love television. But as I said in the introduction, reading about programmes I’ve liked is far, far duller than reading about the stuff I didn’t. It’s worth pointing out, incidentally, that in ‘real life’ I’m nowhere near as angry as you might think. In fact I’m often polite to the point of being craven. Basically, I’m a pussy.
Index
The 100 Greatest Kids’ TV Shows (C4), 1
The 100 Greatest Scary Moments (C4), 1
The 100 Greatest TV Characters (C4), 1
24 (BBC2), 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11
3 Non-Blondes (BBC3), 1
60seconds (BBC Choice), 1
999 (BBC1), 1
AA insurance ad, 1, 2
Abbott, Paul, 1
Absolutely Fabulous (BBC1), 1
Adjaye, David, 1
Aitken, Jonathan: operates Uzi of folly, 1
Aitken, Victoria: launches hip hop career, 1
Ali G, 1
All About Me (BBC1), 1
Ally McBeal (E4), 1, 2, 3
Alt TV: The Lift (C4), 1
American Vampires (C4), 1
Americans: loud, terrifying, 1;
young, hateful, 2;
young, troubled, 1;
bloodthirsty, 1;
bland, 1;
ghoulish, 1;
defecating cheerfully, 1;
actually quite nice, 1;
creating great dramas, 1;
shooting felons, 1;
judging British popstars, 1, 2;
murderous, 1;
dressing up as Judy Garland and pooing on the floor, 1;
ghetto culture imagined by Victoria Aitken, 1;
better than us, 1;
dealing with brats, 1, 2;
whooping at Friends, 1
Amsterdam: City Of Sin (C4), 1
The Anatomy Of Disgust (C4), 1
Ancient Apocalypse (BBC2), 1
André, Peter: arousal of, 1
Animal Park (BBC1), 1
Ant and Dec, 1, 2
Antiques Roadshow (BBC1), 1, 2
Arena: Imagine Imagine (BBC2), 1
The Art Show (C4), 1, 2
Aspel, Michael: is considered dull, 1;
possibly excretes eggs, 2;
might as well fellate guests, 1
Attenborough, David: crossed with android spouse, 1
Attention, Scum (BBC Choice), 1, 2
Auf Wiedersehen Pet (BBC1), 1 awards ceremonies, 2
Back To Reality (Five), 1
Baker, Tom: has limbs torn off in space, 1
Bakewell, Joan: scrutinises turgid member, 1
Bald (C4), 1
Banzai (C4), 1
Bargain Hunt (BBC1), 1, 2
Barker, Linda: inferior to mop, 1;
generating chills, 2;
always cutting prices, 1
Barrymore, Michael: faintly praised, 1;
career gone bye-bye, 2;
conspicuous by absence, 1
Bashir, Martin, 1
Bates, Simon: mentions sexual swearwords, 1;
doomed to play Jason
Donovan single, 1
Bathurst, Robert, 1
Bazar, Thereza: as fantasy insect, 1;
sobs, lashes out at humankind, 2
Beadle, Jeremy: gleefully describing nightclub fire, 1
Beattie, Trevor: inexplicably pleased with self, 1
Beckham, David: silly haircut, 1
Beckham, Victoria: causes fan to vomit, 1;
unavailability of, 2;
hypothetically disapproving, 1
Being Mick (C4), 1
Believe Nothing (ITV1), 1
Benn, Nigel, 1
Bid-Up TV, 1
Big Breakfast (C4), 1, 2
Big Brother (C4): 1;
sadistic influence of, 2;
second coming of, 1, 2, 3;
as celebrity Guantanamo, 1;
full of wankers, 1 ;
still full of wankers, 1 ;
full of one particular wanker, 1 ;
better in America, 1;
endured by populace, 1;
spawns Jade Goody, 1;
more on those wankers, 1;
fourth and weirdest series, 1, 2;
residents run out of fags, 1
The Bill (ITV1): depicted in haiku, 1;
adjusting crotch in front of, 2;
disheartening unavoidability of, 1;
as Dalek training camp, 1
A Bird In The Hand (C4), 1
Bisson, Chris: philosophical implications of, 1
Black, Cilla: baffling popularity of, 1
Blackburn, Tony, 1, 2
Blaine, David, 1, 2
Blair, Cherie, 1
Blair, Tony: implored to intervene, 1;
flirts with scumbag, 2;
wrestles naked by fireplace, 1;
apparent bum disorder of, 1
Blanc, Raymond, 1
Blind Date (ITV1), 1
Blood Of The Vikings (BBC2), 1, 2
The Blue Planet (BBC1), 1, 2
Bo’ Selecta (C4), 1
Body Hits (BBC3), 1
Body Talk (C4), 1
Bond, Jennie, 1
Bond, Samantha, 1
Boot Sale Challenge (ITV1), 1
Bowen, Jeremy: fails to prove or disprove existence of Moses, 1
Boys and Girls (C4), 1, 2, 3
Branagh, Kenneth, 1
Brass Eye Special (C4), 1, 2
Brat Camp (C4), 1, 2
Breakfast television, 1, 2
Breakfast (BBC1), 1
Briers, Richard, 1
Britain’s Hardest (Sky One), 1
Brookside (C4), 1, 2
Brown, Derren: invited to notional dinner party, 1;
plays Russian roulette, 2;
makes words disappear by magic, 1
Brown, Gordon: lesser twerp than Blair, 1;
goes all fidgetyknickers, 2
Budweiser, 1, 2
Buerk, Michael: humiliates self, 1;
squints for no reason, 2
Buried (C4), 1, 2
Burke, David, 1
Bush, George. W: lying, psychotic drink-driver, 1;
provoking hollow laughter, 2
Buxton, Adam, 1
Calf, Paul, 1
Cameron (Big Brother), 1
Cameron, Rhona: seems quite nice, 1;
inspects Uri Gellar’s pubic thatch, 2
Cannabis Cafes UK (BBC2), 1
Canterbury Tales (BBC1), 1
Caribbean Uncovered (C4), 1
Carrott, Jasper, 1
Casualty (BBC1): rubbishness of, 1 ;
provides bland template, 2;
in different aspect ratios, 1;
provides bland template again, 1;
worse than Spooks, 1;
anal trauma wing opens, 1
Catalina, 1
Catterick (BBC3), 1
Celebrities Under Pressure (ITV1), 1
Celebrity Big Brother (BBC1), 1
Celebrity Wife Swap (C4), 1
Changing Rooms (UK Style), 1
Changing Tombs (C4), 1
Chapman, Nicki, 1
Charlie Fairhead (Casualty), 1, 2, 3
Cheaters (Five), 1
Chegwin, Keith, 1, 2
Christian, Terry: presides over car crash, 1
Church, Charlotte: looks ‘chest swell’, 1;
encounters farming machinery, 2
Clapton, Dan, 1, 2
Classmates (C4), 1
Club Reps (ITV1), 1
Clunes, Martin, 1
Cold Feet (ITV1), 1, 2
Collett, Dr Peter, 1
Collision Course (BBC2), 1
Commercials: starring angry men, 1, 2;
for pay-as-you-go mobiles and spot cream, 3;
apparently promoting lovelessness, 1;
starring awkward shop assistants, 1 ;
starring monkeys, 1;
starring Jamie Oliver, 1;
starring Satan, 1;
promoting God knows what, 1;
“Whasssup?”, 1;
starring two men watching another commercial, 1;
starring dancing turd, 1;
insincerity of, 1;
Mr Kipling, 1;
containing CGI mice, 1;
promoting Mick Jagger, 1;
starring Osama Bin Laden, 1;
made in hell, 1;
promoting tasselled shirts in nightmare world, 1 ;
promoting football, 1 ;
achingly slick, 1;
starring Jamie Oliver again, 1;
containing sleighbells, 1;
starring Jarvis Cocker, 1;
Halifax, 1;
belittling men, 1;
costing you money, 1;
Stella Artois, 1;
likened to Kim Bauer storyline, 1;
designed to terrify, 1;
starring Linda Barker, 1;
targeting children, 1;
aimed at wankers, 1
Constantine, Susannah, 1
Coogan, Steve, 1
Coronation Street (ITV1), 1
costume dramas: five-year ban proposed, 1;
five-year ban proposed again, 2;
pleas ignored, 1
Counterblast: Switch Off Now (BBC2), 1
C
ountry House (BBC2), 1
Cousins – The Monkeys (BBC1), 1
Cowell, Simon: acts the bastard, 1;
makes Dr Fox look dignified, 2;
challenged to fight, 1;
is unavoidable, 1;
becomes wearingly familiar, 1
Cox, Peter, 1, 2
Coxon’s Kitchen College (Carlton Food Network), 1
Craven, John, 1
Crime Scene Cleaner (C4), 1
Crimewatch UK (BBC1), 1
Crisis Command – Could You Run The Country? (BBC2), 1
Charlie Brooker's Screen Burn Page 40
