Pride and Prejudice and Zombies only came out two years ago and since then the literary world has been set alight with constant and undemanding mash-up literature. Whilst P&P&Z certainly had its charm, there’s no denying that it has unleashed its own plague. There are now publishing companies dedicated to releasing nothing but Public Domain novels with a dash of mythical creatures thrown in for good measure. It’s cheap, easy and some would argue that there is next to no talent needed to shit one of these pamphlets out and makes heaps of unworthy cash.
So, with that in mind, and not wanting to miss out on a good thing, here’s my contribution to the landfill.
The Story of O – With Zombies!
O is a sexy young woman who gives her lover, René, permission to have a little nibble of her whenever he wants… BECAUSE HE’S A ZOMBIE!! See what I’ve done there? Mixed eroticism with undead flesh… You’re welcome!
The Book of Genesis OF THE UNDEAD!
God has created Adam in his own image, but now Adam is lonely. God creates Eve from one of Adam’s ribs, but OH NO! Being made from a human being has given her the taste for HUMAN FLESH! What will Adam and God do now!?
Zombie in the Rye
Plays out exactly like Catcher in the Rye, but in the last chapter you find he’s a zombie! The living dead with a heavy dose of disenfranchisement. What’s not to love!
The Hungry (for flesh) Caterpillar
Bored with apples, pears, plums, strawberries, oranges, pickles and swiss cheese, the hungry caterpillar moves onto the carcasses of his fellow woodland creature; revelling in the gore and bloodlust not commonly associated with this 40 year old classic. You know, for kids.
Twilight – With Vampires!
Think about it! The story of Bella and Edward with vampires. Real ones. Ones that don’t sparkle like Liberace. Bella dies in the first chapter. It’ll be awesome. Hell, I may even throw Rambo in there.
It’s been reported in the Daily Star, The Telegraph and even on a website in India, Lady GaGa is to appear in Doctor Who!
Except…
Except, she’s not is she? This is the least feasible story ever and feels like someone has just taken me up on my Doctor Who Press Release kit. Gareth Roberts has appeared in the July Issue of Doctor Who Magazine discussing his latest script for the show which is due to co-star James Corden. Discussing his previous draft for the upcoming ep, Roberts suggested that the script may one day resurface as Big Finish project (a series of audio plays starring the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th Doctors) or Lady GaGa doing it because she’ll need the work.
The brilliant/face palm thing is that the Daily Star et al have taken his exact quote and, despite it reeking of sarcasm even when separated from the rest of the interview, have reported it as absolute FACT! With a capital F and a capital ACT and a lowercase arse.
From the Daily Star:
The star, 24, has already sported costumes which resemble Cybermen, Yeti, Ood and Tree People.
And scriptwriter Gareth Roberts revealed he has already come up with a storyline that would see The Doctor (Matt Smith, 27) go GaGa.
Gareth told Doctor Who magazine: “The script might end up on screen one day with Lady GaGa, who will have fallen on hard times.”
In a way it’s fantastic. Right down to pointing out that Lady GaGa dresses weirdly and, ergo, should be in Doctor Who. As they suggest, she could be a Cyberman, Yeti, Ood or a horrific, highly popular, more-iconic-than-the-Daleks, Tree Person…
Ah yes, the Tree People, a race of trees that resemble people, or are they people that resemble trees? Truly that is the mystery of their race. Either way, they burn up a treat. It’s fair to say that whoever wrote the article thought ‘’Ang on! There were tree people in that episode with Billie Piper. Lady GaGa looks like a twig. Yeah, I’ll whack that down’.
So, if you’re a blogger looking for info on this story or a tabloid hack, please allow me to be one of many to tell you that you are talking arse.
(I am very aware that there is a good chance that I could be misquoted and later this week you will see the headline, Lady GaGa to Play Talking Arse.)
Warning: The following article contains spoilers to the shows Ashes to Ashes and Lost.
So, it’s the start of a new week and the end of two popular sci-fi shows. Namely Lost and Ashes to Ashes. Both have spent several series layering twist and turn upon twist and turn till everything came out a bit twisty and turny. Like the scoreboard from new faces.
And how did they both resolve their storylines? With a big dollop of death.
Nothing like death to trim a few storyline threads you’ve got hanging off your immaculate story suit which was made by the story tailor in story lane in story town…
I’m drifting.
In the case of Ashes to Ashes, Alex discovered that she had been dead since she was shot trying to save her daughter in series one and that Gene, a 45 year misogynist who turned out to be the spirit of a 19 year old copper, was simply there to guide her from this life to the next. All rather touching and guessed by pretty much the entire fan community, most of whom will have had their grannies down as a wager as soon as John Simm’s monologue was over Life on Mars.
Lost also went for the death motif by suggesting that a number of scenes in the final series were in fact the main characters reliving their lives in a style of their choosing before going over to the other side. Apparently, when you die you’ll be able to relive the favourite moments of your life. Even if that moment is being stuck on an island with a shadowy organisation, polar bears, no way of escaping and only the prospect of eating Hurley to give you comfort.
Both finales have been met with the usual ‘OMG!!1 IT WAZ MAZING’ vs ‘I could write better. I have already written a 12 page synopsis which I have sent to the BBC in the hopes that they will sit up and take notice’.
Angry Ashes to Ashes fans seem to be upset primarily because they had already predicted the ending back in series 2 and certain Lost fans are grumbling because they didn’t predict how the show was going to end. So, it’s really turned into one of those ‘dammed if you do, dammed if you don’t’ moments.
This all in all makes you feel a bit sorry for Steve Moffat. In a month’s time, the new showrunner will be placing the final two episodes of his first series of Doctor Who at our feet and hoping we don’t kick him whilst he’s down there kneeling.
Whilst a few papers *cough* Daily Mail *cough splutter* have been more than vocal about this latest series of Doctor Who, it’s worth noting that overall it’s been pretty consistent. Steve, like RTD before him, has made some bold choices in terms of directors, writers and actors. Yes, with Rory on board the TARDIS, it does seem like it’s in danger of becoming Scooby Doo, but it is holding together despite the prospect of James Cordan on the horizon.
So, with the Pandorica still to be opened, Rory and Amy yet to be married and the crack in time getting ever bigger is Moffat going to be able to end it all satisfactorily? Not a snowball chance in Hell. Whatever he has written will not be good enough to the over-zealous fan boy, who will take great pleasure in letting everyone else know how the story should have ended. Despite RTD and Moffet being very open about how they collaborated on a few ideas before the series started so that it could be linked with last years specials, there will be cries of ‘RESET’ and ‘Doctor Who 1963-2010’ when the final credits roll. Some fans will blame Karen Gillan’s legs whilst others will lament that it hasn’t been the same since Adric died. Some fans will be hated and crucified for loving the finale and those who hated it will be treated the same. Some will convoluted ideas about how the DoctorDonna should break through his dimension with Rose in tow and help the 11th Doctor. Some fans are just born idiots.
So, can I put forward the thesis that we end the war now and save millions of lives. When it’s all said and done, let’s just be happy that we’re that little group of 8-80 year olds who take 45 minutes of their lives each week to enjoy some escapism and, though sometimes the execution can be a little bit off-kilter, the heart and the imagination is still there as it was with Hartnell, Pertwee, Troughton and Baker.
I’ve voted. Did a postal vote and now I have more time for sitting around and playing Far Cry 2, a game that, whilst good, does feel a little bit racist. Having already done my bit for the country, I have already made my choice for next year. That being the party that sends me the least amount of bumpf in the post.
I have had 100s of different sized multi-coloured bits of paper pushed through my letter box all of them addressed to me personally or to me and my partner that suggests they really do think about me. Often these envelopes/pamphlets/leaflets/tattooed cats have ended up waiting for me as I come down the stairs at half 7 in the morning. This morning I had one from the Liberal Democrats wishing me a good morning. How this has gone down in a household that’s woken up to the news that everyone has woken up next to a dead body is unclear. Who the poor sod is that has to get up at the arse end of the morning to push this soon to be confetti through my letter box is also unclear. Suffice to it’s got to a point where I’m genuinely glad the election finishes tonight. More so when you consider that, as I live in a Victorian house with five flats and one letter box, my bumpf is just the tip of the iceberg of shit that lies on our communal post table. I should add that one of my neighbours has taken to ripping up some of the leaflets they receive and leaving the shards in a tidy pile next to our unspoiled mass of paper. He did this most recently with a leaflet from the UKIP. Whether this was an attempt by the neighbour to perform some form of dirty protest or just their attempt at a stern warning to any UKIP supporters they feel they may be living with, I just don’t know. Maybe they heard me playing Far Cry 2.
As I’ve said before, I’m quite glad the election is soon to be over. I’ve noted a shift in the public conscience which I only ever associate with football league. Pubs, offices and taxi drivers are filled with the support of one party and the shaming of the other. I hear genuine anger spill out of the mouths of businessmen. Poisoned vitriol that could be used as a chemical weapon aimed squarely their 86 year old gran because she said Cameron looks good in a suit. On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve heard political discussions where neither participant has dropped even a hint of where their political proclivities lie. Maybe it’s because of the aforementioned vitriol we think we’re going to receive. Either way, conversations will run no further than:
‘Labour?’
‘Bunch of wankers’
‘Yeah. Tories?’
‘Posh wankers.’
‘Yeah. True. Lib dems?’
‘Posh wankers who eat musili.’
‘Yeah. I hear you. What about the other parties?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘So, are you going to be voting then?’
‘Of course. You?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Labour?’
‘Bunch of wankers’
‘Yeah. Tories?’
‘Posh wankers.’
‘Yeah. True. Lib dems?’
‘Posh wankers who eat musili.’
‘Yeah. I hear you. What about the other parties?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘So, are you going to be voting then?’
‘Of course. You?’
‘Definitely.’
And so on until you die or find a repeat of Glee to watch instead.
Come tomorrow the offices of the country will be filled with people who feel like they themselves have claimed the victory of party most people voted for because it menat not having to put up with the other one. Like football supporters themselves, they will walk in, chest puffed out, chin held high and giving two fingers to the loser who voted for the other side. Conversations will consist of ‘us’ and ‘them’, i.e. ‘The problem with you lot is you were wankers. Now with us, we were wankers but wankers where you know where you were’. Then ‘us’ and ‘them’ will make peace when they realise Ted in accounts voted for the other party and both will skip merrily down the corridor to quote bits of satirical dialogue they heard on the Alternative Election Night on Channel 4.
Still, I can moan and pick apart the elections as much as I won’t, but I’m not David Mitchell and Jimmy Carr and I’m not getting paid so I’ll wind it up. At eth end of the day, truthfully, the election is one of the few experiences we can share as a country and, unlike the football league, it doesn’t involve getting drunk in pubs, shivving someone in an alleyway and throwing up on the streets. So it can’t be all that bad.
Lying on the ground of Hampstead Heath, staring at the stars, in complete defiance of the traditional act of dogging normally found the Heath, the Doctor and, new non-Rose companion, Amy Pond choose their next adventure… It’s a simple start to an advert that wears its budget on its sleeve. Lots of swirly colours, floating Daleks and grinning creatures ensure that those in the audience wearing 3D glasses are in for an awe inspiring 40 seconds. Okay, so showing a 3D advert on the BBC to advertise the new series of its flagship show on a medium often associated with being quite flat did give the whole proceedings an air of watching Jaws 3D when the shark explodes, but it was still an opportunity to see more of Matt Smith as the new Doctor.
But what do the fans think? Well, not a lot really. There are already cries of it not fitting into Doctor Who continuity. A 45 year old poster has spoken on behalf of the 8-15 year old target audience decrying the trailer as nothing but tosh. So angry was he, that he had no time for spelling or grammar.
And thank God he did speak out against this 40 second piece of propaganda. It’s been widely known amongst the fan community that since its reboot, Doctor Who has been purposely morphed from its traditional adult themes of time travel and robot dogs, to something resembling a family show aimed squarely at everyone outside of the continuity picking bracket. As a Doctor Who fan myself, I find it tough to swallow the BBC’s incessant need to distance itself from thought provoking drama and pour money into a show that may as well be called Queer As Folk series 3. The special effects are shoddy, the acting appalling and, in some cases, it all comes across a little too cheesy and childish. The following is just a number of instances where in the last five years, Russell T Davies has pissed on the corpse of William Hartnell. I only present them here so Steven Moffett can learn from them and quickly amend any problems before the new series in March.
1) The 2009 episode ‘Robot’ found the Doctor and his companion Sarah Jane (God when will we see the last of her!), taking on the might of a giant robot. The worse part about this whole episode are the special effects. How are we supposed to realistically accept that Sarah Jane has been kidnapped by a Robot when she’s clearly CGI. If I wanted to cry at a bunch of 1s and 0s, I’d watch fucking Avatar.
2) Russell ran a competition on Blue Peter for one lucky winner to design a bad guy for Doctor Who. The winning result was this:
Eventually played by Alan Carr, this episode served to show that Russell had completely lost the plot.
3) With a new doctor came a new outfit and it wasn’t long before the fans were in a fevered rage only reserved for Gary Glitter and war. The image below shows how RTD’s gay agenda was in full effect. In a style that was later dubbed ‘geek chic’, the Doctor looked every inch the kind of person who appreciates the work of Van Gogh… If you catch my meaning.
Ooh, hello Mary!
4) Russell was well known for trying to be overtly politically correct and this was never more obvious than in this clip taken from 2005’s Talons of Weng Chiang.
Fuck off Russell, you Guardian reading ponce!
5) David Tennant’s portrayal of the Doctor took a battering over the last few years and quite rightly so. As we see in this trailer for 2007’s The Time Meddler, David chooses to portray the Doctor as a crotchety old man who fumbles his lines! A long way away from the train punching Doctor we hardcore fans have come to love. Where’s the moodiness? Where’s the darkness? We expected more! Heck, we deserved more.
6) Another example of Russell’s need to inject his lifestyle into the show can be seen in the opening sequence. Look hard enough and you’ll see the Doctor wink. Wink, for Christ’s sake. We all know the kind of people who like to wink. The same kind of people who like to read the Daily Mail in the dark… If you catch my meaning.
7) Finally, just when we thought it safe, RTD gave us the 10th Doctor’s final episode. And what a mess it was. The entire thing was set on Earth, John Simm returned as the Master for what could quite possibly be the campest portrayal of the criminal genius and to add insult to injury, how did the doctor die? Not in the hail of bullets we would have all liked that’s for sure. Instead, RTD’s constant hints of ‘The Doctor falls off a satellite’ turned out to be nothing more engrossing than the Doctor falling off a satellite.
Steve, if you have any ounce of dignity, you’ll listen to the fans, take note of the points above and give us a Doctor we want. One that justifies why we argue with 16 year old kids on forums whilst our wives file for divorce.
