Top TV

I must be getting old. Doctor Who celebrated its 45th birthday yesterday. And it seems like only yesterday that The Black Adder first appeared on British TV screens; in reality, I noticed that the 25th anniversary of the series’ initial transmission came and went a few months back.

Which is as good an excuse for a list of my favourite TV programmes as any.

The television landscape has changed a lot in the past 25 years. Back then, the UK only had four television channels, Channel 4 having launched in November 1982. And our expectations of television programmes were very different as well. Stories unfolded at a much more leisurely pace – just watch a rerun of any old 80s programme on Bravo, ITV3 or the newly rebranded G.O.L.D. to see what I mean – and we were certainly more tolerant of budget-constrained production values and wobbly special effects. Whereas nowadays, if you have Sky, there are more channels than there are days in the year, we expect a thrill-a-minute adrenalin ride from programmes and no longer marvel at what CGI can achieve.

However, the more things change, the more they stay the same. No amount of green-screen pyrotechnics can replace engaging stories presented in an original format, which is why, despite my strong preference for sci-fi and other ‘genre’ shows, my list includes three series which date back 15 years or more and another which I don’t think ever used a single CGI shot.

So, in no particular order, here are ten of my favourite TV shows of all time:

1. The West Wing: A prime-time drama about the inner workings of the White House wasn’t the most obvious recipe for success. And yet, TWW remains one of the most intelligent, challenging and above all human series ever. For seven years I fell in love with a set of characters trying – and frequently failing - to steer a country I have never lived in via a system of government I have limited understanding of. TWW is perhaps the finest example of how you can generate pace in a story without having to resort to crash-bang-wallop, and that you can build exquisite dramatic tension just by having people talking without pointing guns at each other. Josh, CJ, Leo (the late John Spencer), Jed, Donna and all the others were, of course, not real people. And yet they absolutely were. Somewhere in my mind they still are.

2. Blackadder: Natch. Through four series of Edmund’s incompetent scheming and Baldrick’s “cunning plans”, this was British comedy at its finest – and it was a show only British TV could have produced, with its subversive and sometimes downright black humour. For me, Blackadder II and Blackadder Goes Forth in particular routinely reached heights on a par with anything Fawlty Towers ever produced. Best. Comedy. Ever.

3. Heroes: Yes, season 2 was too slow to get going, and this was one of the few shows for whom the WGA strike was probably a blessing in disguise. Yes, many of the characters’ powers are derivative. (Claire Bennet, for instance, is Wolverine with pom-poms.) And yes, a number of the characters are dreadfully dull or under-developed. (What, pray tell, is the point of Maya?) It’s not perfect; it is still, however, soaringly brilliant 90% of the time, combining complex, multi-layered storytelling with breathtaking CGI which puts many films to shame. And in the character of time-controlling Hiro Nakamura we have the poster boy for geeks everywhere. Gotta love it.

4. Knight Rider: I’m talking about the admittedly cheesy 80s original here, not the plethora of spin-offs which followed it (not least the abomination of a Ford commercial which is the new Knight Rider). Sure, the series and its basic format – Michael and KITT turn up in a small town to help a girl in trouble, KITT bails Michael out with the use of his ‘turbo boost’ and some pithy one-liners, Michael gets the girl - looks pretty dated now (as do the clothes and the hairstyles). But of all the one-man-and-his-hi-tech-sidekick series that proliferated in the early 80s (Airwolf, Street Hawk, Blue Thunder, Automan), this was the one which caught this young teenager’s imagination more than any other – I mean, come on, who didn’t think that black Trans Am wasn’t the coolest thing ever in an era of Mini Metros and Ford Escorts? – plus it had that killer theme tune and tag-line of “one man can make a difference, Michael” which are indelibly imprinted on my subconscious. Plus it never took itself too seriously or tried to justify the series’ many implausibilities (how exactly did they manage to cram so much gadgetry in a car which you could barely fit back-seat passengers into?), which I find always helps. Suspension of disbelief, people.

5. Battlestar Galactica: In this case, I’m talking about the present day ‘re-imagining’, which took the basic idea - remnants of the human race on the run and seeking the lost colony of Earth – of the ever-so-kitsch Star Wars-lite 1970s original, and turned it into a gritty political and religious allegory. The series is full of ‘good guys’ for whom the boundary between right and wrong has become immutably blurred – it is they, and not the supposedly evil Cylons, who resort to suicide bombing tactics - and which somehow manages to be unremittingly depressing yet ultimately uplifting. Also, Edward James Olmos: the man redefines the word ‘gravitas’.

6. Star Trek Deep Space Nine: Somehow, despite lacking the one big fan-boy’s favourite (Spock, Data etc), this, by far the darkest of the five Star Trek series, had the best ensemble cast, and maybe that’s exactly because it wasn’t dominated by one or two main characters. Here we had a crew of people bravely fighting the good fight in a morally grey world where even the supposedly whiter-than-white Starfleet has plenty of unsavoury skeletons in the closet, and there are as many downbeat endings – not least the ultimate fate of Benjamin Sisko - as there are happy ones. If that sounds a lot like the new Battlestar Galactica, that’s probably because of Ronald D Moore, BSG’s show-runner and co-executive producer on DS9. Hey, if it ain’t broke …

7. My Name Is Earl: An unapologetically cheesy premise – a former petty criminal who suddenly discovers karma (“do good things and good things happen”) - which shamelessly pokes fun at small-town Hicksville, trailer trash and some of the US’s more hysterical attitudes towards life, the universe and Operation Iraqi Freedom, among others. At its best MNIE veers from farce to cutting observational humour and back again several times an episode. And if there is a better, funnier supporting role on TV than Ethan Suplee’s Randy, I have yet to see it.

8. The Apprentice: Let me get this out of the way first: Sir Alan Sugar is an idiot, albeit one who gives good soundbite. He consistently fires the wrong person each week, despite the obviously high opinion he has of his own judgment. (I’m telling you, his sidekicks Nick and Margaret are the stars of this show.) The whole original concept of finding Britain’s best and brightest young entrepreneurs has been quietly forgotten in favour of what we really want to see: a succession of self-aggrandising tall poppies, and the inevitable schadenfreude that follows when some bright spark’s genius idea of selling beef to a vegan is exposed for its obvious stupidity. There are some basic lessons in business and selling here, but don’t ever be fooled into thinking this is even a semi-serious programme like Dragons’ Den: this is Big Brother in business suits.

9. Life On Mars: Never mind the high-concept premise – is Sam Tyler “mad, in a coma, or back in time”? – LOM was a lovingly created homage to 70s cop shows like The Sweeney, wryly observed through knowing 21st century eyes. Worth the price of admission for Gene Hunt’s one-liners alone (“He's got fingers in more pies than a leper on a cookery course”, “He's more nervous than a very small nun on a penguin shoot”). And bonus points for resurrecting the Test Card Girl and putting her front and centre in the plot - I always thought there was something vaguely scary about her, anyway. Best of all, the show went out on a high after just two series. Leave them wanting more.

10. Buffy The Vampire Slayer: A series which delighted in taking Hollywood conventions and turning them on their head. The helpless blonde cheerleader of a thousand slasher movies who turns out to be the girl who saves the world. A lot. Episodes conducted primarily in silence without any dialogue (Hush), without incidental music (The Body) and in musical format (Once More, With Feeling). BtVS did all that and more, making the fantastical seem commonplace while revealing that the greatest horrors can often be found within ourselves, and spawning a spin-off series, Angel, of such quality that it could get away with a giant talking hamburger and turning its lead character into a Muppet. Literally.

I’ve missed out plenty of series here which would have made other people’s top 10s, or which might have made it into mine on a different day: Who, and the first two seasons of both Lost and Alias for starters, but there you have it. Seven US series, three UK. Six genre shows, two comedies, one reality show and one drama. Pick the bones out of that.

Double bleurgh

I hadn't even recovered from last week's cold when I went down with something far nastier. I went to bed fine on Sunday night, ready to tackle another working week. But when my alarm went off the following morning and I attempted to leap out of bed with my usual joyous spring (or something like that), all I managed was a weak twitch of my foot and a groan. And that's pretty much how I stayed for the next 48 hours. Some kind of gastric flu or similar bug, I think.

The human body is an amazing thing, not least in how it deals with illness. Having identified the problem as being moderately severe and dispatched several million leukocytes to the relevant spots to deal with it - I always have a mental image of an army of uniformed white blood cells marching confidently forward into battle - it simply battened down the hatches and switched me off for as long as required. I must have slept for 40 of the first 48 hours of my illness - awakening only for adrenalin-filled dashes to the bathroom - with absolutely zero appetite for appetite to persuade me to keep my stomach clear. Only once it was deemed safe to step down from defcon 1, on Wednesday morning, was I able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time and start fuelling up again. (And, boy, does that first mouthful of post-illness food slithering into your digestive system feel good!) By Thursday, I was eating normally again and able to get through the whole day, albeit with limited energy, and today (Friday), I'm getting close to normality.

It's a pretty cool thing, isn't it? Your body knows you're ill even before you're conscious of it, and in many cases knows exactly what to do without calling for medical advice. And all you have to do is put your feet up and put up with feeling a bit crap for a while.

It's been a long while since I've been off work for more than a day or two like this - a really bad bout of flu about 12 years ago, I think - so I'd forgotten the upsides (such as they are) of being bed-ridden. For a start, there's none of the guilt or second-guessing I have when I take a day off with a heavy cold or something like that: you can barely make it to and from the kitchen, so driving to work is clearly out of the question. You get proper sympathy from your nearest and dearest, rather than being told to just get over it. And then, best of all, you get to snuggle under the duvet and watch rubbish on TV because you're not capable of doing anything more than that.

Which, in my case, meant a 100% guilt-free daily diet of Top Gear repeats on Dave (the convalescent home for sick blokes), repeats of old 80s classics (ITV3, Bravo, Virgin 1 and DMAX, among others, are good places to start) and a dash of Deal Or No Deal for good measure.

Oh, and wall-to-wall coverage of John Sergeant's decision to quit Strictly Come Dancing. But you can't have everything.

Anyhow, other than still feeling a bit lethargic (nothing new there), I'm over the nasty stuff now. The only problem is my cold's still here. And that's not really very much to shout about, is it?

Crime and punishment

Is it just me or do the police focus on the wrong things – or at least too few of them - when enforcing the rules of the road?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for cracking down on drink-drivers and for the judicious punishment of speeding, particularly in high-risk areas. Anyone who thinks it’s okay to do 45 in a school zone deserves to be punished to the fullest extent of the law as far as I’m concerned.

And I’m certainly no angel when it comes to observing the rules of the road. I routinely exceed the speed limit on motorways and have consequently picked up a couple of speeding offences in my time: fair enough. I have also been known to demonstrate a degree of impatience with other road users who are unobservant or unnecessarily slow or obstructive: I’m not proud of that either.

But in other respects I like to think I’m a reasonably accommodating driver. I will let people out at junctions, hop out of the way of faster cars, and I have a borderline obsession with parking neatly. UK roads are busy enough as it is without some of the micro-brained antics we frequently see making things worse.

So it annoys me somewhat that I could (rightly) be heavily penalised for doing 90mph on an empty motorway at night, while others who show a flagrant disregard for their fellow road users can get away with all manner of irritating acts which the police are either unwilling or unable to prosecute.

Here are my suggestions for five alternative motoring offences – with appropriate punishments, not just the usual points and a fine - which I believe would greatly enhance all road users’ driving experience.

1. Hands off, eyes down

Crime: Applying make-up, map-reading or similar activity which requires driver to look anywhere other than the road, or to take both hands off the wheel.

Punishment: Offender must complete their next journey with their hands super-glued to the steering wheel.

2. Queue-jumping

Crime: Deliberately cutting in at or near the front of a long queue at a motorway exit because you’re clearly more important than everyone waiting patiently behind you. In particular, those drivers who crawl along or stop in the middle lane holding up everyone behind them until some kind soul feels compelled to let them in. (It’s just so un-British – I thought we were a nation that knows how to queue politely – and it wouldn’t happen in the queue at your local post office, would it?)

Punishment: Offender is issued a spot punishment where they are made to wait until everyone they jumped in the queue has passed them, and then for a further ten minutes.

3. Road hog

Crime: Driver continues to occupy the outside lane of a motorway, even when a faster car comes up behind them and waits patiently for them to move into the empty middle/inside lane.

Punishment: Offender must complete the whole of their next motorway journey in the inside lane. Behind all the HGVs and caravans. At a maximum of 56mph.

4. Selfishness is not a disability

Crime: Parking in disabled or parent-with-child spots without either an orange badge or a child. (I mean, honestly, what makes you think these spaces have been set aside specifically to reduce the distance you have to walk? Have you ever tried getting a baby in and out of a car seat in the tight confines of a normal parking space? Or squeezing in or out of the car if you have a physical disability?)

Punishment: Offender’s car is towed to the furthest corner of the car park, and then squeezed into an especially tight space to prevent easy entry. Additional punishment for repeat offenders: all four tyres completely deflated.

5. Crossing the line

Crime: Driver straddles multiple spaces in a car park (and generally claims they are in too much of a hurry to park properly).

Punishment: Offender must pay for each space occupied, or else all parts of their vehicle not within the white lines of the main parking space are sliced off with a chainsaw.

I’m telling you, introduce and enforce just these five offences and I guarantee Britain will be a better place. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are some men in white coats coming for me …

Bleurgh

I’ve got a cold (again). Ick.

I guess it’s something that many parents are familiar with, but I must have caught more colds in the 11 months since Isaac was born than in the previous 11 years combined - the boy is a germ-spreading machine. In fact, feeling bunged up and snotty now appears to be my normal operating mode; I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to go through an entire week without being slightly under the weather. (What an odd phrase that is: where does it come from?)

The worst thing about having a cold is that it’s not like you’re properly ill. If it was flu or some other virus, I would be quite justified in tucking myself up in bed all day and generally feeling sorry for myself. But with a cold, you feel compelled to go into work because ‘it’s only a cold’, then you feel bad when you slope away early, and then you can’t mention it at home without being told to shut up and stop being such a wuss. And then it’s several days until the blasted thing finally goes away, persisting as stubbornly as a Big Brother contestant who has outstayed their welcome on the Z-list celebrity pages.

Still, having a cold does give me an excuse to stock up on Lemsip and Lockets, one of those guilty I-know-I-shouldn’t-like-these-but-I-really-do addictions which Heather thinks is me exaggerating things in a man-flu sort of way, but actually is just part of a Pavlovian routine, a comfort blanket which allows me to feel OK about feeling lousy.

Maybe it’s a habit which stems from my childhood, as many of our ingrained behaviours do. I have vivid memories of being tucked up in bed with hot honey and lemon drinks, or sitting with a towel over my head inhaling steam from a boiled kettle. Or Lucozade – Lemsip, Lockets, Lucozade, is the alliteration somehow important? – which, if you’re of a certain age, you will remember came in big glass bottles wrapped in crinkly orange plastic.

Whatever the reason, it’s a lovely autumn morning, but I feel no more desire to be outside than I did during the near-biblical rain we had yesterday (at one stage I half expected to see an ark containing pairs of animals floating by). And that’s a real shame. Much though I despise the early nights and the knowledge that summer is long gone, I do normally very much like days like today which are crisp and dry. Right now, however, all I can think about is Lucozade.

Spinning around

So, John McCain was ultimately unsuccessful in the US presidential election. Lembit "Self-Publicity is a Virtue" Opik too. In news that will reverberate around the corridors of power in Wasington almost as loudly as a monk obeying a vow of silence in a sound-proof room, Mr Cheeky Girl nee Mr Sian Lloyd - open brackets, weather-girl, close brackets - failed in his bid to become party president of the Liberal Democrats. (Note to Sarah Palin: that's not a country on the Pacific rim.)

Anyhow, I couldn't let the post-US election aftermath - analysis of which has generated column mile after column mile in the UK papers over the past five days - go without mentioning a couple of things I've read.

Firstly - and I promise this will be the last time I mention The West Wing, at least for a while - a number of papers picked up on the link between the show and Barack Obama's new chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel.

I've previously noted some of the similarities between the McCain/Obama race and the fictional world of TWW, where the series ended with Matt Santos defeating the Republican veteran Arnie Vinick, aided by a major external event (a near-nuclear disaster) which swung the pendulum decisively towards the Democrats, and resulted in the election of the first US president from an ethnic minority.

But that's not where the similarity ends. In the fictional White House, the deputy chief of staff is a canny, Jewish political operator named Josh Lyman, who was based on a real-life canny, Jewish political operator in the Clinton administration named ... Rahm Emanuel. And in TWW, president-elect Santos's choice to be his chief of staff was Josh Lyman, just as Emanuel is Obama's.

Life really does imitate art.

Secondly, the more distasteful side of politics has, inevitably, reared its ugly head as the Republican blood-letting and finger-pointing has begun in earnest. McCain insiders have started a virtual stampede of anonymous confidential 'briefings' - leaks, by any other name - against Sarah Palin, placing the blame for the election defeat solely at her door. (Never mind the fact that it was their man who chose the woefully underqualified governor of Alaska as his running mate in the first place.) She has been accused of a woeful ignorance of global affairs (something we already know to be true); in addition to her oft-televised foreign affairs gaffes, she has been accused of not knowing who the three members of NAFTA, the North America Free Trade Agreement, are (the US, Canada and Mexico, in case you wanted to know), and of thinking that Africa is a country rather than a continent. And, harking back to the cost of her campaign wardrobe - which it is suggested was rather more than the $150k which was originally stated - she and her husband Todd (the self-styled 'first dude', puh-lease) have been labelled as "Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast".

Other than being a killer soundbite, it's all very Lord of the Flies, isn't it?

Clearly, McCain staffers are looking to deflect blame for last week's defeat on to the most obvious (and all too plausible) target. And Palin has responded in kind, blaming the Bush administration for the election result, refusing to comment on several allegations and accusing reporters of not doing their homework before filing stories about some of her policies, decisions and (alleged) abuses of power. (Regardless of whether she is correct, attacking the press does not exactly strike me as the best way of getting them on-side.)

Post-election analysis confirms that Palin was certainly a divisive figure in the campaign, driving away swathes of independent voters, particularly women - a constituency which her appointment as McCain's running mate was designed specifically to appeal to. However, she remains popular with many conservative elements of her party, with a national poll suggesting that 64% of Republican voters now consider her to be the party's best presidential candidate for 2012. (Although no doubt Mike Huckabee, Mitt Romney and others will also be major contenders for the next Republican nomination.) The jockeying for position has already begun, with Palin extracting maximum advantage from her run in the spotlight; it would not be surprising if her next step was to run for Alaskan senator.

The sad thing is that my view of Sarah Palin is inevitably distorted by the lenses of the media and of the political spin doctors. There is no question she is woefully short of knowledge, but that can be addressed over the next four years. Similarly, she has been clearly shown on a number of occasions to have been, ah, economical with the truth to an extent which would make even seasoned politicos blush.

Other than that, the image I have built up of her is of an ambitious, ruthless, single-minded woman (pretty much incontrovertible), who loves the political spotlight in the same way a film star loves the photographers on the red carpet (again, I'm fairly secure in that assumption) and is not afraid to use her position and power in all manner of dubious ways - 'Troopergate', shopping sprees, allegedly 'going rogue' in the final days of the campaign - which cast severe doubts on her holding any position of power, let alone the most powerful one in the world.

Now how much of that last set of assumptions is actually true or not is anyone's guess - there's so much contradictory spin flying around that I'm getting a headache - but to my mind, there's no smoke without fire. However, 64% (or more) of Republicans clearly think otherwise, as is their right.

I just hope we never have the chance to find out. Right now, Sarah Palin is arguably the second most famous politician on the planet, after the president-elect. It doesn't mean she's the second most capable, though.

From red to blue

As I write this at 0830 GMT, and with only two states - Missouri and North Carolina – undeclared, Barack Obama leads John McCain 349-162, having easily passed the required total of 270 electoral college votes, and with a majority of the popular vote (52% currently).

Last night, the USA elected its first black president. This morning, the world is already a very different place. How much different it becomes will be the backdrop to the next four years in US politics.

In the final analysis, the writing was quickly on the wall for McCain. Having effectively declared Pennsylvania as his last stand, the state’s early call in favour of Obama – by a crushing ten point margin – had the calorifically-challenged lady limbering up her vocal cords. And when neighbouring Ohio – no Republican candidate has ever gained the White House without the Buckeye state - also proclaimed the Democrat candidate, 51% to 47%, the singing could be heard from Florida all the way to Sarah Palin’s home state of Alaska.

As other swing states followed the trend with a seeming inevitability, the US political map turned from Republican red to a sea of blue. It’s an over-simplification for sure, but it’s hard not to see this as a reflection of the changing times, with the demography of key battleground states such as Virginia and Florida having been dramatically altered by a combination of domestic and cross-border immigration in recent years.

While the Republicans will point to the popular vote being closer than any of the pre-election polls were suggesting – the pollsters were forecasting a chasm of anywhere between 6 and 13%, and it looks like the final gap will be 5-6% - the reality is that the Grand Old Party of American politics has been soundly trounced by a charismatic, at times almost messianic opponent, who has mobilised support with unprecedented efficiency. (The Obama campaign spent more money than both candidates combined in 2004.)

(Incidentally, for stattos like me who are that way inclined, Daniel Finkelstein’s article in Monday’s Times is an interesting insight into the systematic inaccuracy of the US polls.)

At a distance several thousand miles removed from the heat of the election battle, it seems to me that John McCain was an essentially honourable man – he repeatedly avoided the temptation to overtly smear Obama – who was ultimately undone by two events: one within his control, the other not. Firstly, his choice of running mate. (I’ll come back to that.) And secondly – and perhaps more critically - the economy, which voters have cited as the single biggest influence on their choice of candidate.

In the hype and hysteria of the last few weeks, in which Obama has been effectively proclaimed president-elect before the fact by a predominantly liberal media, it is easy to forget that the two candidates were neck-and-neck at the end of September. Had the global financial meltdown not started until, say, this morning, the election result could have been very different.

However, the crisis happened when it did, and as such the incumbent ruling party – and therefore McCain - took a lot of collateral damage. Despite being regarded by many as a great ‘war president’, George W Bush leaves office with a lower approval rating than Richard Nixon, and the Obama campaign relentlessly drove home the point that McCain – for all his claims to be a maverick – has voted with Bush 90% of the time.

Can the Republicans fight back in 2012? Of course they can. As Barack Obama himself has shown, with the right message, the right organisation and the right timing, it is possible to go from being a virtual unknown to holding the most powerful office on the planet within two years.

Already, some factions within the Republican party are positioning Palin as their presidential candidate next time around, a scenario which is frankly terrifying – this is the woman who claimed that Vladimir Putin flying through Alaskan airspace counted as foreign policy experience - but far from impossible. Her proponents will point to her being a role model for women (although she conspicuously failed to draw the support of Hillary Clinton’s supporters), her role in galvanising the gun-toting, bible-bashing extreme conservatives (which is true) and that, in four years’ time, she will be a more experienced and better prepared candidate (she could hardly be worse).

But Palin’s backers fundamentally miss the point. Barack Obama has won on the back of a message of change for an American society which has already changed and continues to do so. He has energised previously disenfranchised and disillusioned voters – blacks, Hispanics, the young – and embraced America in all its diversity. Palin’s message (insofar as there was any coherent message) throughout the campaign has been one of fear of change. She has accused Obama of “palling around with terrorists” and questioned his patriotism, his religious leanings, in fact pretty much everything except his skin colour. Yes, it is a message which appeals to a conservative minority, but that is exactly what her constituency is: conservatives in a time of change, and a minority (of largely older, white Americans) which is shrinking.

Barack Obama talks of striding forward and shaping the future. Sarah Palin is the political manifestation of the lie that America is the UNITED States, and would have the nation take a step backwards into an insular, arrogant and racially fragmented past which is out of step with our modern world.

The last time I wrote about Palin, I referred to her as “the political equivalent of a reality TV wannabe”. I was interested to note this morning in a couple of political blogs that TV execs are reportedly considering approaching her with a view to either fronting a chat show of her own or creating an Osbournes-like vehicle around her family. I don’t normally like to say “I told you so”, but … I told you so.

Anyhow, America has made its decision. It remains to be seen whether Obama really will be able to deliver on what are preposterously high expectations, but I can’t help but feel that the US electorate has voted in a 21st century president for a 21st century world, and that’s got to be a good start.