It was all about the football. The highs, the lows, the shocks and the down-right depression. Despite the exit of our brave boys, World Cup commentary in the UK upheld its own comedy-crossover standards being, as it was, ridiculous and hilarious as ever. The squad might have trouble with possession, but for the pundits on ITV and BBC, the gags, blunders, Mickey-taking and general camaraderie kept us all engaged and on our toes for the duration of the cup. The highlights were Ian Wright's celebrations at the England goals, Gary Lineker's wandering eyebrow and an unexpected golden goal courtesy of an inebriated Gazza (you can't help but be glad when some folk fall off the wagon) - classic stuff. Just a shame we have to wait another four years for a replay. Ho hum.
Over on planet "Crown Street", drag queen extraordinaire (Bet Lynch) has made her unwelcome return, reintroducing her charming term of endearment ("cock") to the nation. Why oh why oh why has she come back? Just looking at her over-bleached, over-sized head makes me queasy. The minute she opens her big, craggy gob I'm out the door. It's rather like a half hour instalment of Jade. Coronation Street has always flown the flag (rainbow coloured or otherwise) for matriarchy, but dragging a nasty, has-been off the street, way past her best and a (bulbous) shadow of her former self, don't do nuthin' for girl power. Ill health has forced Ms. Goodyear back out of the proceedings, and with any luck she's been watching her miserable performances from her sick bed and making the right decision about coming back. Or not, to be more precise.
Dance music has been picking up the ante of late. Tracks from Lasgo, Missy Elliott, Kylie, Tim Deluxe, Ian Van Dahl and Sugababes are almost enough to make you wave your hands in the air. Although it seems like years ago, Spiller's "Groovejet" is still teaching valuable lessons and the current wave of well crafted, catchy and chunky dance choons are proving that it's not "alternative or nothing". And it's about time too. There's nothing better in the summer months than a few anthems to swig your Pimms to. If you're after a burst of seasonal scintillation (and a bit of bump and grind) get hold of "The Best Dance Album...Ever! 2002" - cheesy title, but a great mix of dance and pop. If you claim you don't like Blue's "Fly By" or Liberty X's "Just A Little" you're a liar!
I'm still reeling from my first burst of Spiderman (one viewing is definitely not enough). If you haven't seen it yet, get the Odeon phoned without delay! Cannily acted and superbly paced its one of the best films of its ilk since Superman I. Despite the hype, the movie doesn't present itself with any trace of self-consciousness and the acting extracts empathy, fascination and humour - particularly from unlikely star Toby McGuire. Just don't get as excited as I did and try to do a Mexican wave during the finale - cinema seats flip up you know. That's what the World Cup'll do to ya'!
I did well didn't I. I hardly mentioned Big Brother at all. After last month's seething I just don't want to get into it with you. I'm not ready to face the humiliation of admitting that I've been sucked in. Yet again. But if you must know, I'd like Alex to win. This preference is purely on the basis that he's a) attractive, b) mad as a brick and c) hilarious (by accident). Anyone who nominates Kate because "she put a metal spoon in the microwave" deserves to win a cash prize. His popularity is sweeping the nation (or so I'm told) and "please don't pee in the shower" is a top new catch-phrase down the pub. Let's just hope that when he gets to the "other side" (£70k better off), the gorgeous German puppet sticks to modelling and doesn't invade Poland. Ooh, I'm such a bitch!
Johanna Payton.
johanna_payton@hotmail.com
© Johanna Payton 2002. All rights reserved. Reproduction without permission is strictly forbidden.
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