Rose-Tinted Theories

"And like that, she was gone"

OK, so I realise that that quote was made in a different context (and actually about a male character) but it somehow seemed like a good choice. Yes, Dear Readers, as you're probably aware, we have just two weeks left with Rose Tyler in the TARDIS, and I for one shall miss her presence. I'll hold my hands up and admit that I was amongst the "What the hell are they doing casting her?" brigade when the news was announced, but it's always nice to be proved horribly wrong. And how Billie has done so. Whoever would've thought that two years down the line we'd be so fearful of her departure. I can pinpoint exactly the moment when I knew everything was going to be alright: The Unquiet Dead, scene where the Doctor and Rose are trapped in the basement and she turns to him and says "We go down fighting, yeah?". Brilliant. Anyways, goodbye Billie, all the best for the future and you'll be missed in the World of Who.

So in light of Rose's imminent departure, and as I know none of the spoilers, I thought I'd add my little thoughts as to what might happen to the character. They shall be classed under the headings 'The Obvious', 'The Gruesome' and 'What I'd Do'. That way you can evaluate what my responses and add your own comments.

The Obvious

The obvious way of handling things is that Rose sadly dies. Whether this be saving the Earth or in some horrible manner is open to interpretation, but it seems the fairly straightforward way to handle things. You see, this way it means that Rose can (theoretically, this is SF remember) never return and the Doctor can go back to his angsty, thoughtful self a la Series One. This time it'll be a bit more emotive though, as we'll all know why he feels that way and empathise with him. Those of us who remember the Old Days may well have felt it hard to empathise with the loss of the Time Lords, as they were corrupt, boring people and (Omega aside) weren't a great loss to the galaxy. However, the chance to see Tennant constantly calling up that sense of loss in the Doctor that Eccleston managed last year seems a tantilisng prospect, as I've really enjoyed those scenes where he feels responsible for someone's death (i.e. Scooti in The Impossible Planet).

The Gruesome

Rose becomes a Cyberman! A horrible way to go (and a slight cop-out seen as though they've already done that with Alternative Jackie in The Age of Steel) but what a great reaction shot that would make, the Doctor having to realise what has become of her! Of course, there's always the possibility that she doesn't become a Cyberman but instead becomes something else (not giving any spoilers away), but the basic premise that this essentially good-hearted character becomes something inherently evil is a nice idea.

What I'd Do

OK, wild theory time but what I'd do is this: it was mentioned in Love & Monsters (shudder) that Rose's file was in Torchwood somewhere under the heading of 'Bad Wolf' something. What if Rose were to be committed to scientific/medical research in some way? Imprisoned by Torchwood (don't forget, Captain Jack is on modern day Earth and it's plausable he could have told of the 'Bad Wolf' scenario) and unobtainable, the organisation plans to experiment on her to gain the secrets of the 'Bad Wolf'. We've already seen that Torchwood are a bit power mad and willing to kill to further the progress of Earth in The Christmas Invasion so I reckon that'd be a really cool thing to do. Imagine the final scene where the enemy is defeated, only for Yvonne and some guards to drag Rose off somewhere and leave the Doctor helpless! That'd be immense, and allow for the return of the character, perhaps even in some elevated version.

You see, I should be writing for the series...

So. Central Rain

"I'm Sorry..." (R.E.M. 1984)

Slightly obscure title for this post Dear Readers, but given that the above lyric is the main hook from the song that gives this post its title, I felt it was adequate. Quite frankly, I feel as though I must apologise, and whilst this apology is for something that I had absolutely no control over, I know that for some of you this is your only encounter with the World of Who and so I must both celebrate and defend it.

OK, I'll stop being cryptic. In short, Love & Monsters was terrible. It was that cringeworthy that I almost turned it off after twenty minutes. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was childish and embarassing. Poorly executed, acted and handled. It made Timelash look like Citizen Kane (OK, some of you know I view Timelash in quite high reverence just because it's that bad, but you get the point...). However, this criticism is not because I didn't "get" the episode, as has been the accusation launched at some people who have shared the sentiment. I more than "get" what they were trying to do, and in fact thought that it sounded like a good idea. Why not take an average man who has encountered, and become fascinated with, The Doctor and see what the effect of this encounter would be? I mean, Boom Town last year asked a similar question about consequences, and I thought it made for a great understated and thought-provoking episode.

The key difference here was that Boom Town seemed to have thankfully learnt the lessons of 'Where the Slitheen Went Wrong'. Out went the silly comments, the fart jokes, and were instead replaced by some interesting and welcome characterisation. This, however, felt like a complete regression. The Scooby Doo sequence at the beginning was toe-curlingly bad. The character ending up on the Abzorbaloff's arse equally so. The lead performance of Marc Warren was just wet, meaning that you didn't care about him. Additionally, and disappointingly, RTD's writing was lazy. Last week we see Rose getting the troops together against the oncoming Ood, this week she can't remember what colour bucket to pick up. Unlikely? What's more, it's established that the group of characters were (relatively) clever. Surely one of them would have noticed the pattern that every time Victor Kennedy asked one of them to stay behind, they disappeared. It would've just taken someone to have gone "Hang on. There's something funny going on here" and it would've made more sense. Not "Oh, I've forgotten my phone!". That's what I mean by lazy writing.

However, there were two positives. Firstly, Shirley Henderson came out of it more than alive. It's a shame she ended up as a paving slab, as she was thoroughly great throughout. In fact, this was about the worst episode Billie has had in the two series, and as she's going (more on that later to the time) someone like Shirley would be a great replacement. Having said that, why not take a talking paving slab in the TARDIS? I mean, Tom wanted a talking cabbage. Secondly, there was a funny joke. I love the idea of the Slitheen's lenghtily-titled home planet having a twin with a one syllable name. That's the kind of ridiculous nonsense I like.

Shame the rest of it wasn't.

Cyber Control's Top 5 to try and blank out Love & Monsters:

Geneva - If You Have to Go
The Young Knives - She's Attracted To
Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
R.E.M. - So. Central Rain
The Kooks - She Moves in Her Own Ways

Soldeed!

All hail Graham Crowden! Surely one of the greatest, and funniest, supporting performances in the history of Who. He gets far too much bad press for his overacting in Horns of Nimon, and quite frankly it's unfair. It's hilarious, and given the level of immagination that went into other areas of the script (a security guard who just shouts "weakling scum" a lot! And as if the idea that people won't pick up it's based on the Greek story of the Minotaur isn't clearly signified by having the aliens look like Minotaurs, they decide to spell the name of all the characters in that story backwards!), I'm not surprised he got away with it. I mean, who came up with the idea of sacrificing three perfectly good cliffhanger endings (the revelation of The Nimon! Romana's abandonment! The immanent destruction of the TARDIS!) for that thrilling shot of ... Tom hugging K-9. For some reason Crowden's portrayal of Soldeed reminds me of what might happen if Chris Morris got involved with a story...

Sorry, dear readers. This post is piffle. I just had to update this site and couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head.

'Arthur Dent' Moments

'Arthur Dent' Moments (n.)

Occasions when you are confronted with trying to understand those immediately around you (whether acquaintances or otherwise), but are unable to do so. Whether your incomprehension is due to your own lack of concentration, or the amount of alcohol consumed by members of the party, or other reasons, is irrelevant. However, you are left with the feeling(s) of a) complete bewilderment, and b) the overwhelming need for a cup of tea.

Usage: "I just didn't know what was going on, or what I was supposed to do. It was a real 'Arthur Dent' moment."

Beauty, Brilliance and Bitterness

As a committed reader of TBM (and yes, we do have them) rightly noticed we have been doing a little programming recently! I realise that sounds rather technical and all, so I must admit it was nothing special; more a cut and paste job of some existing code, but it looks nice nonetheless. Anyways if you glance across to your right you'll see some rather cryptic links to sites that I personally find interesting and I hope you will too, Dear Readers. Right, on with discussion of the titular themes of this post...

Now, I'm fully aware that naming a record as 'beautiful' may well come across as slightly absurd, since it's not usually a word us humans attatch to inanimate objects. However, in this instance I'm going to keep the word as I think it describes perfectly a favourite record of mine that I've recently rediscovered: Crowded House's Together Alone. From the combination of pedal steel and acoustic guitars that begin album opener 'Kare Kare' (written about the beach that recording sessions for the album backed on to), through to the engaging, personal nature of closing track 'Together Alone' - complete with Aboriginal chant and tribal drums - its the kind of album that really draws you in and positions you as though your sat there with Neil and the guys as they take you on this wonderous journey of perfectly-written and pitched MOR rock. However, the associations of 'MOR' seemingly degrade this record, since Matchbox 20 this isn't. For starters, it's dark in places: 'Private Universe' and 'Walking on the Spot' dealing with the need to be alone and the break-up of a relationship respectively. And whilst 'Black and White Boy' allows the band to show off their rock credentials, 'Distant Sun' remains, in my opinion at least, one of the greatest songs written (NB: There's a funny story involving this song and myself from my Uni days. If anyone wants to know more then drop me an email).

Whilst the brilliance I mention above could be applied to the aforementioned record, it is instead reserved for discussion of Mark Gatiss' excellent contribution to Who on Saturday, The Idiot's Lantern. I've stuck my neck out a few times since its transmission and labelled it the best episode since they brought the whole programme back, and the reasons for this shall be explained momentarily. It was, however, without doubt the best episode since The Parting of the Ways. So what made it so good? Firstly, the story was expertly pitched, plotted and written. It felt as though it had crammed a lot, but not too much, in to its forty-five minutes. The main thread involving 'The Wire' (Maureen Lipman providing one of those pitch-perfect guest roles where they don't overplay it (a la Mr Lumic) and treat it seriously), an adversary perfectly suited to both the historical setting and the medium of television itself, was excellent since it not only involved both The Doctor and Rose, but allowed both of the characters to do what they do best, and allowed Tennant to do something more than act a bit smug for the whole episode. This was supported by the thread involving the break-up of a family home, exposing the darker side that runs beneath that idealised, nostalgic view of the 1950s remembered by films like Grease and such programmes as Coronation Street. Moreover, this thread allowed for a nice character moment from Rose at the end, telling the lad to go after his father. Additionally, Euros Lyn's direction was superb, accentuating the oppresive feel of the 'family' home. Oh, and nice links to The Ring and King Kong in solving the problems.

Finally, and I do realise this post has gone a bit, the bitterness I mention is in relation to Keane's rather fab new single, Is It Any Wonder? In short, I didn't realise they had it in them! On the evidence of their debut album, Hopes and Fears, and the appearance of the guys in interviews, they come across as the kind of band who are great at writing reflective ballads that ascend above the usual crop of their peers (Embrace, and The (dreadful) Feeling, for instance), but this newie shows us there's another dimension to them. Bit like when you listen to The Bends and realise Radiohead can one minute offer something as wondeful as 'Fake Plastic Trees', and then in the next breath snarl at you with the power of 'Just'. All in all an intriguing, and impressive, return.

Happy Birthday, Bronze Medal!

OK, so this is a couple of days late, but it's time that we wished this haven of all things Indie, Tea and Time Lord its first happy birthday. Yes, Dear Readers, it was one year ago on Tuesday that The Bronze Medal took its first steps into the world with a post called 'An Unearthly Child'. At that point, I was unsure how long things would last but we've made it a year! We're now about 8th on Google if you search under the terms "Bronze Medal", "Idlewild" and "Cyber Control" (look, I was bored one night) and have reached that age when we can take our first steps in to the world, and begin rejecting our inheritance of Gormenghast (mental note: stop making jokes that only you, and about two other people, understand). Anyways, if you'd like to leave any wishes of good luck for the future of this glorious refuge from the world, they'll be much appreciated.

It seems only right that on our birthday, we take a look back at some of the things we've learnt over the past year. Firstly, it suddenly struck me yesterday that paying for black bin bags is actually just throwing money away. Why can't they be free? If you stop and think about it, it's probably the most pointless use of money ever! Also, something I strongly believe, and can account for from personal experience, is that call centres do not work, to either the people working in them or the people having to speak to someone within one. On the side of the worker (sounds a bit socialist, eh?!?), people don't like to be reduced to statistics. It may be wonderful to be able to pour out such statements as how many times you pressed delete over the past week and train you on typing, but it makes you feel as though you are constantly being watched. And that's what is happening. It's quite alarming to suddenly be asked one day why you disappeared for eight minutes the previous day, and somehow you feel a bit embarassed admiting you couldn't deal with it anymore. So in short, they don't just reduce you to a statistic but they invade on your privacy as well. One of the main things that distinguishes humans from the other wonderful species on this planet is our ability for compassion, understanding and tolerance. Unfortunaltely call centres erode this. Moreover, for the person calling, the fact you end up talking to someone who has just completed three weeks of intensive training means that no-one really knows what they're talking about. They're simply reading from a pre-prepared script that erodes individuality. Finally, due to the pressures placed on the people working inside them, you end up having to deal with people as quickly as possible, thus reducing all interaction to a transaction. Thus, look up 'dehumanising' in the dictionary and you should see 'call centres' listed there.

I've also become increasingly fascinated by the subject of time and temporal theory over the last year or so, to the extent that a friend remarks that I'm the only person they know who uses the phrase "space-time continuum" continually and in a serious manner. I just think it's such a fascinating thing though. To think that at any moment in the above-stated continuum you have the ability to mould that into what it is, the fact that this abstract thing can at times move so quickly and yet move so slowly at others, and that you're the only person experiencing time in that way at that moment. It's truly fascinating.

Personally though, its nice to be at this point in time. There are certainly some things to look forward to in the future, not least the fact that I appear to be reaching my career goal. Suppose I should make it public that for the next three years I'll be living in Cardiff, undertaking my PhD and teaching first-year undergraduates in my old department. That's actually quite scary when you stop and think about it as its one hell of a responsibility, but I'm quite happy to think I'm gonna have another three years in the Bute. In fact, a big cheesy grin has just come over my face.

Finally though, I want to thank everybody who reads this for reading it. Your support and enthusiasm is very much appreciated and keeps the thing going. Oh, and a very Happy Birthday to Mr. Edward Easton for the forthcoming weekend.

Cyber Control's Top 5 Records to Celebrate Our First Birthday:

The Young Knives - She's Attracted To
The Zutons - Pressure Point
People in Planes - Narcoleptic
Maximo Park - Going Missing
Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars

Capturing the Market

The Rakes, Cardiff University Solus - 11/05/06

There is, to all intents and purposes, a golden rule to playing live: you open with an anthem, play another one mid-way through your main set, and finish it all with another. On tonight's evidence, The Rakes have learnt this golden rule, opening with the 90-second ode to status anxiety, 22 Grand Job, dropping anomie-toned, O.C.-featured, chant Retreat mid-way through and finishing it all off with the punk rock (and FIFA 2006-used) Strasbourg. This implies a key point about The Rakes though: how far they've come in the past twelve months. About this time last year they played to a mildly enthusiastic Barfly crowd as part of Xfm's (sadly failed) experiments with this fair city. Since then they've troubled the chart three times, and managed to whore themselves out to various student-friendly licencing opportunities. Not that this means they've sold-out. Oh no, The Rakes have grown into something more confident and popular, whilst maintaining that dirty, distorted energy that so many bands seem to leave behind in the equally dirty, grimy toilets of the indie club circuit.

Whilst The Rakes seem to anchor their set in 'classic gig' way, they seem to have (thankfully) ignored the usual consequence of 'classic gig' formula: that things have a tendency to drop between these high-points. This is because the band are relentless. Everything is played at breakneck speed, so that the crowd is constantly pogoing around for their lives, even to the more reflective tracks like Binary Love and We are all Animals and the new stuff that no-one really knows. And whilst those not at the front are furiously jumping around as their lives depended on it, those sandwiched into the railings at the front are doing their utmost to immitate Alan's trademark dance moves.

If you asked me to remember the set-list, I couldn't. It was that good that all of the songs seemed to bleed into each other, although I remember being pleased when they played (personal favourite) Violent. There also has to be a passing comment on the rather ace support from The Young Knives, apart from all I can remember about them now is that recent MTV2-friendly sngle Here Comes the Rumour Mill is just as good live as on record, and that the singer looks like Mark from Peep Show with longer hair.

So then, ladies and gentlemen, The Rakes have grown in stature and status and, on tonight's evidence at least, cornered the ears of the current batch of undergraduates around the country. If they could quickly write a song about the lecturer strike, they could well have a number one on their hands, but then again, they're a bit too cool for that. Even if I still maintain their guitarist looks like (the genial) Stan Cullimore from The Housemartins...

The Magic Number

"No more. No less. It's the magic number"

What number am I talking of, dear reader? Why, that'd be three of course! Immortalised as having magic powers by De La Soul (and, I think, some form of hippy band in the 60s or 70s before that), influential in the naming of this website, and now the number of BAFTA awards the Good Time Lord picked up at the weekend. I'm ecstatic, quite frankly! Over a year ago, before Rose was transmitted, and I was a nervous mix of hope and fear for it all, I said that what I really wanted was for us to get recognised in some form, and if that could be a BAFTA that'd be ace. There it was, a silly pipe dream that I thought was never possible. Now, twelve months down the line, we didn't just get one! Oh no, we got three of the things: one from the industry for being ace, one from the viewers for being ace, and one for having the best writer in television attatched as Executive Producer (my close pal RTD, I doubt he remembers me, but he probably remembers the hat). So there we have it! Industry and viewers on our side! Enjoy it whilst it lasts, as I'm sure that somewhere someone is viewing it as further evidence of the debasement of culture (a sci-fi show, the best thing on television? But where is the single play? I can hear them now...) and sharpening up the knives for some form of backlash. However, for now at least, the offices of BBC Wales have something that designates Who as the bestest thing on telly, and it makes me proud.

Dunno if I'm going to get the chance to write again before Saturday, so if I don't just a quick note that the Cybermen are back this weekend! Apart from the fact their not from Mondas! Nor are they from Telos! They're from an 'alternate Earth', and they're the devious creation of Trigger from Only Fools and Horses! Who sits in a wheelchair! No, in all seriousness I'm glad they've turned their back on the whole backstory/continuity thing, or else we'd have ended up with something akin to Attack: all geeky sub-references that only mean anything to those three people in the audience who were/are that bothered about the history of the Cyber Race. Quite frankly, all you need to know is that they're big, they're metal, they're very rational and they basically take the idea of replacing malfunctioning human organs with replacements to the extreme. Oh and they should utter the immortal phrase of "Yes, Leader".

Aside from that, little to report of any consequence at the moment. Just plodding along with life and writing things, clutching the new Snow Patrol quite closely as it's very good. A bit floaty in places, but a real grower that contains four or five set piece songs that deserve to be heard.

Cyber Control's Top 5 to Take Your Mind Off the Return of the Cybermen:

Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
Panic! At the Disco - The Only Difference Between Suicide and Martyrdom is Press Coverage
Snow Patrol - Make This Go On Forever
Idlewild - Satan Polaroid
Snow Patrol & Martha Wainwright - Set the Fire to the Third Bar

Patrolling the Airwaves

Snow Patrol, Cardiff University Great Hall - 03/05/06

Not so many years ago Coldplay seemed to corner the market in indie balladeering, and grew to become one of the biggest bands in the world. Now with the welcome news (last album notwithstanding) that Mr. Martin is taking his over-infalted ego off somewhere for a few years, if there's any justice in this world Snow Patrol should amicably fill that gap in the market. They've made one hell of a new album in Eyes Open and in singer Gary Lightbody they have someone to match Martin in morals but completely overshadow him in that important area of personality. He jumps on to the stage with such an enthusiasm and energy before even playing a song that its hard not to get behind him, and he's down to earth. This band have had to work hard to get here and so appear genuinely grateful for their chance, something Gary makes clear tonight before launching in to the wonderful An Olive Grove Facing the Sea (also known as the kind of heartbreaking ballad they've always written but didn't get the promotion at the time).

Tonight's show is perfectly pitched between Snow Patrol's two successful albums: 2003's Final Straw and newie. They mix up the two at will so that a favourite is always around the corner, and this is seen in the opening few exchanges, as Chocloate and Spitting Games are played energetically at the beginning of the set to get the crowd firmly on their side. After that, it's a nice mix of the familiar and not-so familiar, with new tracks Hands Open and Shut Your Eyes sounding like they'll occupy iPod's for the next few months. The obvious highlight of the new stuff though has to be the beautiful Chasing Cars. If Colin Murray reviewed Run as 'the kind of music that children should be concieved to', then surely Chasing Cars goes one better. Its quite possibly the most simple, honest love song this genre has produced, certainly in the last few years. Elsewhere How to Be Dead remains a firm crowd pleaser, and new track Make This Go On Forever adds an interesting, piano-led change to proceedings.

They could have left it with just the main set and it would have been amazing, finishing as they did with the aforementioned Run and current Top 10 troubling anthem You're All I Have (possibly the best end to a set that's come from the current outcrop of young, Indie bands?), but a touching Open Your Eyes and a hectic Tiny Little Fractures meant that the crowd went home with both their eyes, and their hearts, open to the new kings of all things introspective and emotional. A warm welcome back.

New New Bronze Medal

And so we return!

Hello once more, Dear Readers! Fear not, we are still in residence here, just that things have been rather hectic what with the amount of work that has not decreased since the last time we met. I wouldn't mind if I'd done absolutely nothing, but I've worked and worked and worked on things and seem to be getting nowhere. It's just NOT coming together, and thats annoying! It seems either I'm really not getting things, or I'm making things far too hard for myself, or a mixture of both! Eitherways its not particularly good.

I expect you're all dying to hear my opinions on the New Who (or should that be the New New Who?!?), and I hope the following comments on New Earth will provide an introduction. I was planning a big review of each episode, with full analysis and such, but at the minute I haven't got the time or energy to do so. So I duly apologise for that, and can only offer to improve as time progresses onwards. In summary though, I have been exceptionally impressed with all three episodes so far: Tennant and Billie are firing on all cylinders, the stories are fantastic and more ambitious than last year. I can only speculate about how far the series will go because, as we know from last year, they just got bigger and bigger as the season went on! The special effects have been great by and large, a few of the more ambitous effects still look a little unbelievable, but it's still the most unique thing on TV in my opinion. Let's just hope it gets that BAFTA when the time comes...

There are things I wanna talk about, as they may help me calm down and take them in, but I can't at the moment as I don't wanna tempt fate and blow them. Suffice to say that they're the reason why I seem a strange mixture of happiness and nervous adrenalin at the moment though.

New Earth

An ambitous, well-realised, if rather busy beginning to the new series. In short, they tried to do too much in the one episode. What with the hospital itself, Cassandra, the Plague Carriers, the Face of Boe and the Cat Nurses there was just a little too much going on, and it was only after the second viewing that I managed to take it all in. The problem was that a lot of the main narrative thread - the horror of the Plague Carriers and their subsequent release - was lost as it came too late on and wasn't fully realised. Not that it was badly directed, quite the contrary, just came and went too quickly.

The humour was there though! I couldn't stop laughing at the ongoing joke about the shop! And I liked the bits with the lift and disinfectant as well. The constant swapping of Cassandra into various bodies got a little tedious after some initial funny exchanges (I'm thinking of when she first transferred into The Doctor's body especially), but was, in the end, essential to her realising what had to be done. The Face of Boe stuff was 'text-book enigmatic', and sets things up nicely for their next encounter. All in all a solid, if busy, start to the season, and a great place to lift off from!

I've Started Something I Can't Possibly Finish

In homage to Morrissey, as he does seem to be everywhere on the (decent) music channels at the moment due to his really rather good new single, I thought I'd name this post. It does, however, sum up the way I feel at the moment. I decided to write one long essay for one of my current modules, electing to do 5000 words comparing two contemporary novel-to-television adaptations, and putting my own spin on the question by using Gormenghast and some hideous BBC (yes, dear reader, those two terms don't sit easily together in my head either) adaptation of Doyle's The Lost World. However, the problem is I really don't know where to start with it, and I'm putting my self under a lot of pressure to get it done as I've still got 3000 words on an essay that I've neither decided on, nor have much interest in, as the titles are a little dull. That's probably why I'm undecided about it come to think of it.

Anyway, I digress. The problem I seem to have got myself in is that I've got so much to write about, and so much I feel I should write about, I really don't know where to start. The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to start writing. However, paradoxically, I don't want to start writing as it's only going to confirm in me that I really don't know what my angle is yet. To make matters worse, I decided today that I should probably read the source books as well, meaning that I splashed out fifteen quid on the entire Gormenghast trilogy and have therefore created more work for myself. You see, dear reader, neurosis and fear of failure are not easy things to live with.

I'm also getting far too excited about both the launch of the new series of Who (on the 15th of this month, more on that next time) as well as my return to Devon next week for an old friend's birthday. In short, the time that I had clear to do some writing has become full with too many thoughts buzzing around my head. I hate this. I wish I could concentrate on the things that I should rather than the silliness in my head.

Worrying

A girl just came up to me after the Pub Quiz and said that they thought I looked like Chris Martin. Whilst this is better than the usual lookalike comparisons I get (Noel Edmunds, Rolf Harris), its worrying that this is the second time in two months I have been likened to Chris Martin, a man who twelve months again I viewed as an absolute arse...

We all become our parents, or those who we define ourselves against???

Other People's Houses

A strange thought came over me on the train back from Reading yesterday, and the more I've thought about it, the more it seems to be a very valid question: why do you always think that other people's houses are much nicer and better than your own? For example, when I visited Anna in Oxford, I thought her place was open and spacious, but had a more homely feel to it than our place. It had a much nicer bathroom, and a kitchen space that didn't look like the last part had been stapled on to it. In short, it was cosy and welcoming and not like some form of student place. Then, I visit Darren and Stacey in Reading, and it turns out that I'm also in admiration of their place! Sure, its a ground floor flat, but the rooms are about the size that you'd need of them for two people. It's warm, and the kitchen is big enough so that people won't fall over each other. Plus, why do other people's showers actually have some pressure to them, whereas your own is pathetic in comparison. I then followed this thought through some more and came to realise that I used to think the same thing about people's houses at Uni. For example, Chris, Darren and Beth's place always seemed more contemporary and inviting than the dark corners of Wyeverne Road. Ditto that for Jo's place, and Janine's. More strangely, Chris actually used to admit that he preferred our place at Uni to his. Bizarre! So there we are, dear readers. Great Mystery of the World #251: Why Do You Always Think Other People's Houses are Better Than Your Own?

On a different note, I recieved a bittersweet piece of information today. One of my old housemates, Yash, has been offered a job working on Wall Street in New York and will be leaving in three weeks. Naturally, I'm thrilled for the guy. He deserves it after holding out for the right type of job, and I wish him 100% success for the future. I mean, come on! New York! How ace would that be? It'll just be a shame we won't be able to see him that often, and we'll miss his easy-going, laid back humour in forthcoming get togethers. We'll miss you buddy, but just make sure you have one hell of a good time!

Cyber Control's Favoured Five to Swing Your Pants To:

I Write Sins Not Tragedies - Panic! At the Disco
Heart in a Cage - The Strokes
Stumble and Fall - Razorlight
Munich - Editors
Sussudio - Phil Collins

Retracted Statement

In response to last nite's post, I would like to make one thing very clear: I am not a poet. No matter how hard I try, I am neither Roddy Woomble, nor Michael Stipe. Neither am I Julian Casablancas or Thom Yorke, although I do try and immitate the former of the last two in clothing. No, I am just a guy that has too much on a Sunday evening and starts scribbling ideas on the back of a piece of paper at a pub quiz, who once dreamed of fronting a band only to be denied this due to being unable to sing in tune.

However, because of this I thought I'd share with you some of my favourite song lyrics:

"Don't you think that maybe I should calm down?
I'm sick of staring at these walls, I'm gonna kick them down"
(The Seahorses, 1997)

"You broke my soul, dear
You stole the plot. You left an empty shot.
Well, there's nothing left here
As you took the lot.
An empty cage is all I got"
(Travis, 2001)

"Apathy is happy now, it won without a fight"
(The Housemartins, 1986)

"Gentleman, mark your opponents
Fire in to your own ranks.
Pick the weakest, a strategic move,
Square off to meet your enemy"
(R.E.M., 1998)

That's just a taste, I'll put some more on next time.

City of Knowledge

Dear Reader, I apologise for there being no Bronze Medal for a long time, but in all honesty things have been exceptionally hectic. I always knew March was going to be this way, a ndthings should calm down as of now. I've been filling in my PhD application recently and that's now almost done. Muchos Gracious is, once more, needed for the Man Much Greater Than I, but then again I should've known that would've been so in the first place. Anyways, I've been on my travels! It's hardly 'The Bronze Medal On Tour', but visiting Oxford has opened my eyes to the wonders of other places in Britain aside from Cardiff.

I went there to visit my good friend Anna, someone who I've grown very close to over the last few years and who I will always be eternally grateful to for the way she managed to get me to do some work towards the end of my A Levels. Following that logic, if it wasn't for her I may not be where I am at present, and hopefully from that you may realise why I always make sure I'm there to return the favour. Anyways, it was great to see her, and see the Radiohead Fan Guide to Oxford. It's the kind of tour/pilgrimage that only fans ever indulge in, taking in such exciting places as 'The Street Where They All Lived Together', 'The Park Where They Played a Really Big Gig', and 'The Restaurant Where Ed Used to Work'. Having said that, said restaurant did the best Cream Tea I've ever experienced. Seriously Dear Reader, if you're ever in Oxford, look out Brown's Restaurant and have a Cream Tea. If you're disappointed, let me know.

Oxford as a place rocks immensely. Its a place that's so beautifully designed it's hard to ignore. It's clean. It's got a wonderfully diverse array of independent coffee shops and book stores that sell things at cheap prices because they realise that everyone there wants to read and eat good cake. The buses work, and they don't cost a bomb to go ten minutes up or down the road. The people there are polite and friendly. The restaurants are good value for money, and the beer isn't too badly priced either.

The worst part was leaving. I always think it's good to leave visiting friends with a sense of melancholy as it means that although you've enjoyed yourself, you'd do a lot to have an extra half-hour in their company. You start thinking about the next time you may see that person, and make the effort to go back there. The ironic thing was that as the train pulled away from the station my iPod started with The Hollies and 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' which, aside from the gender issues, sums up my relationship with Anna.

I'm sorry if that all sounds a little gushy, but it's testament to how much of a good trip I had. I even tried to fix someone's computer (and, yes, failed), and got described as "sensible" and "nice". I usually don't like those words, but I'm really starting recognise their value in life. I suppose it depends who speaks them really.

An Absolute Moron

The following is what is commonly know as a polemic; an opportunity for my spleen to be vented, and a small portion of academic bile directed towards one Nicholas J. Cull, who has written perhaps one of the most small-minded, arrogant, and misguided piece's I have ever had the (mis)pleasure of reading. His central argument is that the whole evolution of Who is, in fact, due to the influence of American cultural (and other) pressures. This, I feel, is the most short-sighted piece of crap I have ever read, from a man who, I doubt, has seen any of the series, let alone actually studied any of the criticism or history of the programme. I would like to tear apart a few of the points he makes here. However, what follows is just a short attack on what is, in whole, a terrible argument.

1. He basically argues that the Doctor, is an embodiment of British values, and that this has to be seen in light of the increasing dominance of America as a superpower, and the decline of Britain on the global stage. Thus, the only way that Britian could come to terms with this is by having someone who tried to assert their brains over using braun.

Reply 1: OH MY GOD! Does this guy not understand that the whole point of the Doctor is that he's a character of superior interlect who comes from another planet? That he is supposed to embody the liberal position of tolerance and pacifism, and that his whole role is about assisting people and deciding what is for the greater good? This could be written as a school boy error, but the fact that he a) goes on to assert what a great character James T. Kirk is in comparison, by appealing to literary predecessors, and b) this is written by a yank, just going to show that that nation has little understanding of 'tolerance' contemporarily, is unforgivable.

2. "The second Doctor (Patrick Troughton) was not as popular as the first. Audiences detected 'stale and predictable plots'."

Reply 2: Just completely flabbergasted by this one. Firstly if Troughton was so unpopular, why does he always usually come out near the top of 'Favourite Doctor' poles? Why is he so fondly remembered as the 'Cosmic Hobo', who had a childlike innocence? As for the plots issue, this guy has obviously never heard of The Evil of the Daleks, The Enemy of the World, The Web of Fear, The Macra Terror, or Fury from the Deep. A diverse range of plots there, some developing the now classic 'base under siege' thread, some just being different completely.

3. (And this is the best one. About Star Trek: TNG): "The show had all Doctor Who's eclecticism and humour and effects were light years away from anything the BBC could produce alone".

Reply 3: Honestly, and I can feel the rage growing in me now, has this guy even seen any TNG? It's the most po-faced, boring, stuffy load of crap ever made! Humour? There's more sodding humour in a funeral, and I've just been to one. Eclecticism? What that'll be the return of the bleeding Klingons will it? Or would that be the fact that they had to nick the Cybermen to create the Borg? The only thing eclectic about it was that it had Whoopi sodding Goldberg as the barman!

I could go on, but there are some things in there that are just laughable. Congratulations, Nicholas J. Cull. You are an ABSOLUTE MORON.

Feeling Strangely Fine

I feel rather strange writing to you from where I am now for a number of reasons. Firstly, I should be at the pub quiz, but due to circumstances outside of my control that's been cancelled. The more frustrating thing is I spent a good hour yesterday afternoon compiling a list of witty team names. Yes, I was that bored but there's always problems deciding on what to call ourselves and so I thought I'd make a pre-emptive strike. My personal favourite was 'Handbags for House Plants' but there were a few other gems as well.

Secondly, I feel strange writing here at the minute as (gasp) I've done all of my work for the weekend! I've finished an essay, done a pointless PowerPoint presentation and done my seminar preperation, all with Sunday afternoon to spare. Thirdly, I went to a very strange place last night for a few drinks. It went by the name of 'Tiger Tiger', but I can think of a better word to replace the aforementioned animal with (Crap? Or maybe something a little stronger?). The place was a hodge-potch of various styles inported from Ikea, stretched across three floors, with the kind of service you'd expect in a KFC but not in some 'classy' bar. I was stood at the bar once for about ten minutes whilst some chap tried to remember how to make a cocktail, whilst at another it took about the same amount of time to get one bottle of Bud. Bejesus! It still doesn't beat Sugar as the worst place in Cardiff, nor does it beat Enigma in Newton Abbot as the definition of Hell, but it's pretty crap and over-priced. Well, at least they played a little bit of Lionel at one point. I say a little as it was one of those annoying places that only ever plays half a song.

Alright moan over, so what else we got? Not a lot really! Life seems to be moving at a pace quicker than I care to realise, and I'm not sure whether that's because I've become lost in what I'm studying, whether I'm just blissfully unaware of anything that's happening, or maybe just somewhere between the two. It's something that I've gotten used to though, a general feeling of being a little lost. It's kind of though you're stood completely still on a street whilst everyone and everything rushes past you and you try to calm them down. Much like the experience of being in Bristol Temple Meads at 8:15 in the morning.

To the Faithful Departed

From the silence comes noise.

Yes, Dear Reader, normal service has been resumed here. I apologise for the slight delay in proceedings but there's been a death in the family and I was needed elsewhere. The only thing that the last few days has served to tell me is things I already knew: that I hate funerals, that the worst thing about death is the people who get left behind, and that I don't deal particularly well with the news of Death's presence. Instead, I just seem to blank it out as much as possible until I'm faced with the actuality of the situation, and then it all comes out. All of which seems quite strange for me, since throughout my teenage years and beyond I've prided myself in writing songs that often mentioned the subejct in some form of back-handed metaphor. Perhaps the concept I think of is different from the reality of the situation? That's quite a good way to sum up my whole outlook on reality really; why bother dealing with the harshness of the real world when there are worlds of imagination that are far more interesting?

Anyways, I've been told by my folks to stop worrying, as it does no good for anyone, but I just can't escape this horrible, knawing feeling in my stomach when I think about my Gran's situation. No-one should have to be left on their own, especially during the twilight of their life. It just makes you fear the worst, that's all. What's that statement RTD once quoted with regards to narrative? "The Queen dies, then the King dies of a broken heart"? Perhaps I just need to keep repeating "Life isn't Who" in my head many times.

Talking of 'life', it was to my utmost horror that a member of one of the worst bands around (The Ordinary Boys) has turned up in the loser-hell of Celebrity Big Brother. To all those who think he's ultra-smart and all, he wrote and released an oh-so witty track last year called 'Life Will Be the Death of Me'. Ten out of ten for passing your Year 12 English exam with that one...

The Top 5 Most Played Songs on my iPod:

1. Foreigner - I Want to Know What Love Is
2. The Killers - Mr. Brightside
3. Maximo Park - Going Missing
4. Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins
5. Que Onda Guero -Beck

TV Times Circa 1970-Something

So then, after all that Lost petered out with more of a whimper than a bang if you ask me. I mean, how obvious was it that they'd open the hatch and then it'd end? Add in some over-sentimental recap footage over who was on the plane and it was all just a little disappointing. It was, to me, as though it had been written as two catch-up episodes for anyone who'd missed most of the series and wanted to know what was going on. I suppose that's the problems of commercial television: having to make sure that your series is always open to new viewers.

It seems to be a time for new tv at the moment. However, I'm not sure if I'm following it all correctly; I completely missed the point of Life on Mars by the sounds of things, and have also lost my excuse for watching The O.C. by not being able to shout 'Jim' at the guy who played Jim Robinson from Neighbours for an hour. It seems I'm gonna either a) have to stop watching it, or b) admit that my only reason for watching it really was the rather lovely Rachel Bilson. Then again, is there anything wrong with that? I mean the show is crap. I used to like Dawson's Creek, and I genuinely admit to that. There was something cool about all that angst and cod-philosophising. Then again, I could watch DC again now and think it's crap. Yet, in all honesty, The O.C. has neither angst nor philosophy. It just has a very hot girl and a guy who talks in an ironic manner about Star Wars.

Why has telly become so full of reality tv and rubbish so nearly in the New Year? I mean, MTV2 has even shifted Gonzo so I can't keep up with what's new. How am I supposed to keep up with all that's new and indie if there's no show on? Having said that, if the only 'decent' stuff around at the minute is that god-awful Arctic Monkey's track, then I don't really wanna know. I'll go back to something else I think... Right then, Pyramids of Mars and some old Toto CDs it is. Unless anyone else can think of something else?

"Friday Nights have been lonely. Change your plans and then phone me"

So... That'll be Christmas Eve, then!

Just a short note to say this is the antics of what happens on a Christmas Eve in Newton Abbot. It perhaps doesn't capture the true spirit of the events but it'll hopefully serve as a good reminder of the times we had. It's just a shame they only seem to occur once a year. Nevermind, better once than never I suppose...