In a dither
James Delingpole
It's a ludicrously hot day and I don't really want to be writing a TV review at all; I want to spend the afternoon swimming, possibly appeasing my Protestant work ethic by squeezing in about half an hour on the high-concept screenplay which will one day enable my wife and me to throw in our jobs and sod off to the country, never again to suffer one of those evil Red-Ken-hemust-die-he-SO-MUST-DIE-engineered traffic jams I have just spent the last 45 minutes in on Vauxhall Bridge. But I can't because the post-summer rush of exciting new programmes has started and covering them is kind of my job.
The problem is that I don't feel sufficiently cross or euphoric about any of the things I've watched. It's often the way with new series: they spring to earth, fullyformed with all these catchphrases and personalities acting as if they're part of your televisual furniture and always have been; and you can't decide, till you've had time to get used to them, whether to slap them for their damned impertinence or pat them on the head, the cheeky young pups.
Celeb (Channel 4), for example. Though I can see already that Harry Enfield is spot on as the fading rock star Gary Bloke and that Amanda Holden is quite enormously fanciable as his wife, what I can't yet tell is whether it is going to attain no-morebridge-for-me-for-the-next-few-Fridays comedy masterpiece status.
Most of the first episode I spent trainspotterishly trying to compare and contrast it with the Private Eye cartoon strip. There weren't any jokes quite as inspired as my all-time Celeb favourite, where a coke-questing Gary tries to befriend Jeremy Clarkson having been told that he 'fronts top gear'. And I was slightly disturbed by the way they've changed the personality of the butler Johnson: in the strip, unless I'm mistaken, he's dutifully complicitous in Gary's vices, whereas in the series he is much more nannyish and disapproving.
On the other hand, it's definitely wittier and more plausible than At Home With The Osboumes (MTV) and its one-liners can sometimes be quite deliciously sick, like one about Gary's crap bodyguards having once been highly recommended by Gianni Versace, Also, I felt similarly lukewarm the first time I saw Frasier. Spaced, Friends and Father Ted. So you never know.
Hmm, now let's see if I can be equally, fence-sittingly dull about Two Men In A Trench (BBC 2), which is like Two Fat Ladies except it's about youngish blokes who specialise in battlefield archaeology rather than cooking.
What put me off, slightly, was the following exchange about the Battle of Culloden, reprinted in the Radio Times to illustrate the duo's lightning wit and repartee. 'It was probably a tourist attraction on the day of the battle itself. I mean, how many times do you get to see a battle?' says Neil. 'Not often. Only when Rangers play Celtic,' replies Tony.
But they seem likeable enough chaps and, when they're not trying desperately to prove that archaeology isn't serious at all, it's wacky and sexy and fun, they're actually rather interesting. By the end, you had been given a very clear impression of how the battle had been fought and won (much grisly detail about the use of canister and grape shot; a costumed re-enactment of how to bayonet a hairy, claymore-wielding Highlander), plus some useful ripostes to throw at chippy Scotsmen whenever they're getting too shirty about Butcher Cumberland. Apparently, most clan chieftains made a point of having at least one son fighting for either opposing army, so as to ensure that whichever side won, their estates would not be despoiled.
Even so, for all the pretence otherwise of programmes from Time Team onwards, the fact is that TV archaeology is never quite as interesting as it ought to be. You watch these programmes half-expecting them to unearth golden torques or suits of armour or complete tyrannosaurs or terrifying, grinning skeletons with shreds of bloodied tartan still clinging to their bullet-shattered bones. But all you get, after aeons of digging with a penknife and toothbrush, is the odd bit of shot and, if you're really lucky, maybe the thrilling metal loop that the ramrod used to go through on a musket.
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