X Factor & The Beatles is like Peaches & Diesel...

X Factor – Oh no…

If you drew a giant smiley on The Haywain by Constable you could not have insulted our cultural heritage more profoundly than the X Factor mob did by covering Beatles songs this week. The whole thing was reminiscent of those horrible seaside specials in the 70s when camp dancers gyrated around a Blackpool pier lip-synching to crap pop songs. It was absolutely appalling.

What is it with Cheryl? Do some men actually fancy her? If so, it must be domestic abusers looking for a guilt free punch-fest. When she does that pathetic hurt look I am usually being pulled off the TV, blood streaming from my knuckles. I loved when she was attacking Wagner for revealing her council house origins – like she keeps those well hidden!

So what of the show itself and the performances? Well the highlight for me was when I thought West Life had all died in a car crash but it turned out that was just an advert for their new album shown during a break. Ah well…

Five soppy boys singing “All You Need Is Love” was my start point without a harmony in sight. They pout, bob, sway and sing badly destroying an anthem like the puppets in Team America destroying world heritage sites. Disgraceful…oh and Stretch Armstrong came on Sunday and said he wanted them to win!

Rebecca Ferguson, who is undoubtedly talented, is being slowly caricatured into a cross between Sade and Macy Gray and her version of Yesterday was obviously really terrible but only one judge was brave enough to say so. It was awful – a travesty and a shame because I think she can be a good recording artiste in time if she can escape Cowell’s clutches.

Then there was Katie Weasel or whatever her name is whose only claim to fame with me is she takes my mind off punching Cheryl Cole when she appears. Her warbling “Help” was like an advert for genocide and when Simon called it “genius lyrically” well I nearly choked on my cup cake…she didn't write the lyrics you pothead she sang them! Badly. I really hope he dies in a Hotel fire, as Morrissey would say.

Then Mary did Shirley Bassey doing Something, a truly amazing song by George and one of my favourites, which was interesting – a bit “Stars In Their Eyes” really. Which could be said of the whole show actually.

Even Matt Cardle looked out of his depth which is a shame because again I think he could be a good performer given free expression and time. Come Together is a great song but only when sung by John Lennon. Which leads me to…

Point of order – Imagine is a John Lennon song recorded post-Beatles so it can’t be on Beatles night. (And who the hell chose “Hippy Hippy Shake”? The judges do nothing for their credibility with these errors.) I was actually less frightened in The Exorcist than I was at the thought that she was about to start rapping the Imagine lyrics...if she had I would have got in my car, driven to London and beaten the Great Satan Cowell to death with a rusty spanner, I swear I would have.

The mini-me Cole blubbed her way through Sunday when she needn’t have worried, not being black she was always going through. Cowell tried getting rid of Paije a week before putting him on first to play on poor viewer memories, but they gave the thumbs down to that twitchy bloke with the quiff. Hah!

All that and Wagner the protest vote believing his own bullshit and Louis thinking he has a fan base!! So funny – when he got through on Sunday I recorded Cheryl’s expression and replayed it a hundred times whilst punching the screen. Excellent therapy.

Anyway the circus continues and I will be watching mindlessly like the rest of the country. Ho hum…

Praise for “The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists” by Robert Tressell

Few novels can really claim to have had a wholly transformative effect on the reader but in the case of this one I can totally understand the cover statement by Ricky Tomlinson that this book changed his life. It certainly informed mine, much like Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris & London" and "Road to Wigan Pier" did.

It's creator, Robert Noonan who took the nom de plume of Tressell to avoid recriminations, sadly didn’t live to see it published. In the introduction he vouches for its accuracy and claims it is all true which gives every scene added resonance.

It charts a year in the life of a group of working class painters and decorators in Edwardian England who suffer unspeakable poverty and suffering as they attempt to survive the cruel realities of post-industrial capitalism in a fictitious town of Mugsborough.

Into their midst comes a well-read activist called Owen who attempts to teach them how they are being exploited by the capitalist system – memorably demonstrating in one scene the “great money trick” using bread divided up into pieces. The men are scornful of Owen blaming their ills on immigrants, tariff reform or free trade and decrying socialism as an evil to be condemned.

I had to constantly remind myself that this novel actually pre-dates The Suffragettes, The Russian Revolution, The first Labour Government and The First World War and excuse many of its more subsequently discredited notions on that basis. That said, many of the books central criticisms of the Western Capitalist philosophy could be equally levelled today.

Tressell does not hold back in his condemnation of the Edwardian employers. Hunter is the feared foreman, referred to variously as Misery and Nimrod, who can cut the men off at any time – they are, however, entitled to an hour’s notice! The owner, Rushton, is another tyrant who happily has the men working in freezing temperatures with poor tools and only the fear of loss of income as an incentive.

Yet Tressell understands that a system where everyone chasing the same contract must seek to undercut the other bidders is inevitably doomed to fail. He almost sympathises with the men forced to drive their employees as slaves to squeeze profit from each job – many of the scenes explore this convincingly.

He highlights poverty and the lack of help and support from the authorities in a more straightforward manner than say Dickens does, but despite being true the narrative does not suffer from a lack of story-telling. It is, at times, maddening and moving in equal measure.

All ages and classes are covered and Tressell uses names for his characters that are laugh out loud funny at times. Bodger and Leavit, Sir Graball D’Encloseland the MP, Mr Sweater and Mr Grinder the employers, Slyme the immoral cad and even Dr Weakling the only voice on the council who attempts to speak against corruption and self-interest but always fails.

The book is optimistic in the end but the irony is that Owen, who is Tressell, contracts TB in the story but ultimately survives to meet with some good fortune.

Robert Tressell was not so fortunate dying young, another victim of the system he sought to change.

The original manuscript can be viewed on-line at the TUC website complete with Noonan's alterations and notes. It is very readable and a fascinating artefact of the class struggle.

Worth a look this Xmas if you need something different!

Horror & Gore!!

Watching the Psychoville Halloween Special recently reminded me of just how much I love the Horror genre. I hit seventeen at the perfect time – the VCR had arrived in the UK and some of the most creative horror movies from the 60s and 70s could be watched late at night after a trip to The Three Horseshoes in Stukeley, preferably in groups of four or five.

I grew to love Horror from that moment onwards. The genre appeals to the visceral core of what it means to be human. The fear of death in all its forms, the struggle with terrifying ordeals, the nature of self, religion, independence and even child abuse – all have been covered in Horror movies and the teenage impressionable me was lapping it all up in the late seventies. Here then is my Horror Top 10 covering all the films that I first saw on VCR and still watch today.

10. Psycho – the original “slasher” serial killer movie has to scrape onto the chart mainly because I still really enjoy watching it so much. That scene on the stairs still gets me as does the final denouement. A classic

9. The Shining – OK Jack Nicholson is a bit over the top, but the way the film deals with the twin themes of domestic abuse and isolation is still masterly. The techniques used look a bit passé but the sheer brilliance of the direction makes up for it.

8. The Ring – Japanese version of course and truly chilling from the very start. The last scene seems to break the fourth wall by crawling out of the TV twice – the second time into your own lap! Fabulous.

7. Halloween – Michael Myers cutting up baby sitters and their boyfriends…but only if they have had sex. Innocent Laurie is ultimately spared and of course he himself can’t be killed, just as immorality can’t be killed. The film is dated but still has a brio I love and is always worth another viewing.

6. Suspiria – Fantastic Italian Horror with ground breaking special effects at the time and a genuinely disturbing underlying theme of separation and exclusion.

5. Zoltan, Hound of Dracula – slightly quirky vampire movie but the dog steals the show as a monster somewhere between the Baskerville Hound and the Alien. Superbly terrifying at the time and still worth an evening’s viewing

4. The Wicker Man – so English and so ground breaking with its plot based on paganism and ignorance laced with escapist independence from the rule of law. Edward Woodward screaming “Oh My God!” still makes my blood freeze and makes you think of ethnic cleansing, executed hostages and brutal murders in the name of religions.

3. Dawn of the Dead – The prophetic fable on consumerism. Watch it now and you could just as easily be out on a Saturday at the local Debenhams or John Lewis. We are all the Zombies now and this film tried to warn us. Superb.

2. Blood on Satan’s Claw – a kitsch hammer classic made memorable for me by the full frontal nude scene where “Angel” reveals her loyalty to the Dark Side, which disturbed me greatly as a teenage youth. Wonderful.

1. The Exorcist – As America feared for the morality and sanity of its youth, William Friedkin produced the ultimate stroppy teenager to play on all those suppressed anxieties. Yet there is more to the plot than that – the voyage of Father Carras is by far the most interesting aspect of this film and the scenes where he interplays with the devil inside Regan are the most enduring and terrifying.

You can if you wish, give points for trying to the following: The Omen trilogy, Rosemary’s Baby, The Hills Have Eyes, Scanners, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Last House On The Left, Nightmare On Elm Street and The Thing.

Oh for the golden age of the VCR!!

X Factor draws me in again...

OK So I watched a recording of Saturday’s X Factor last night to give it a fair chance.


I wish I hadn’t. Actually that’s not true – I do have some fascinating revelations!

The first is that Louis Walsh is basically a one sentence robot with a good eye for the bizarre. Last year the strange twins became “Jedward” and actually sustained the public’s interest for a few months even after the series ended, and he looks like he is doing it again with Wagner who resembles that Native American who always decried the war with the White Man in Lee Van Cleef films and ultimately died in a hammy way involving a brunette and a tomahawk.

Louis basically says “You look like a Pop Star. You dress like a Pop Star. You sound like a Pop Star. You are a Pop Star!” to a different person every week. The irony is he sits next to Danni Minogue who also looks like one, sounds like one (at least whilst she is only talking) and dresses like one but never actually WAS one. Go on, name your favourite Danni Minogue hit. Exactly.

Is Cher Lloyd an anagram of “Cheryl Doll” with an “l” removed? Call me old fashioned, but do street rappers come from early evening light entertainment shows now? She is bizarre to say the least and is a bit like The Monkees were to The Stones. I keep expecting a drive by shooting to splatter Simon Cowell all over the rest of the panel as Jedward try and reclaim the hood.

Cheryl of course is being criticised for her lack of connection with TreyC or whatever she is called. Well, we all know why that is don’t we? Count your blessing TreyC and for God’s sake don’t let her follow you into the toilets. Mind you she shouldn’t really have dressed like that Red Dwarf in Don’t Look Now.

Cheryl Cole has perfected that look that seems to say “Run Bambi – Man is in the forest”. All that’s missing is the satisfying gunshot and the Emperor of Exmoor saying “sorry Cher, Cheryl cannot be with you any more”. Was that too much to ask on a Halloween special?

Then there is Simon. Like Caligula’s plebeians the audience wait for his thumb on each act. He looks to the side, does a strange hand gesture, says something ambiguous and then…the coup de grace. Close up of the contestant looking like Simon just confirmed that the early diagnosis of advanced pulmonary cancer was incorrect and in fact was only a chest cold. Simon then names his horse as a Senator, enjoys fellatio with a goat under the desk and the poor across the country pay extortionate phone rates to support his Frankenstein Boy Band rather than, say, buy vegetables.

What really annoys me is that there is some talent in there but it is being restricted and exploited for the Cowell Corporation rather than nurtured and developed. Rebecca Ferguson and Matt Cardle will no doubt be forced to sing songs by some idiot like Robbie “Save My Career For Old Times Sake Boys?” Williams when they should be learning the trade of song-writing so they can genuinely survive in the real world beyond Dermot’s shoulder. Alexandra Burke and even Leona Lewis totally depend on getting good songs and without them, and their youthful looks, they will soon fade.

Highlight of Saturday night TV for me? Harry Hill’s Wagbo, the love child of Wagner and Mary Byrne…genius!

Why do we watch these programmes? Well, I think it’s because everyone is rooting for their favourite and the thing becomes competitive and therefore entertaining. I regularly hear the words “who went out on X Factor/Strictly/Big Brother?” shouted across a bar or hotel lobby in the way they would enquire about the outcome of distant battles a century ago. I guess I will just have to keep watching to see who triumphs...come on Wagner!!