What month would be complete without a review of the cultural highlights from Claire Fitzgerald, reporting from 2011.
Music
Echoing the high-profile return of five years ago, Take That have recently announced that they're re-forming again, prompting tens of thousands of teenage music fans up and down the country to call a special dedicated helpline, set up to support them through this traumatic time and console them for the ensuing damage which will inevitably strike the British pop industry. Unfortunately, they are still without Robbie, who is currently undergoing intensive residential rehab for an addiction to Pepsi Max and Texas BBQ Pringles.
As if the idea of Take That sans Robbie was altogether pointful, the Jam will also be getting together minus Paul Weller, and The Police are planning a full-scale world-tour without Sting. This has prompted rumours that the three iconic UK stars have formed a super-group and have already cut some secret sessions; we at ferretbrain's clairvoyance department cannot be absolutely sure of the provenance of the bootleg cd which drifted into my in-tray this morning, but there's certainly enough classic lyrical word-play and swaggering showmanship on the first track, Up Yours Pal (We're Already Fucking Loaded)...In the meantime, look out for the up and coming stadium sell-out by comedy 80s stereotypes Chas and Dave. Without Chas. Or Dave. And Ant and Dec are scheduled to play a series of intimate venues in select regional music clubs, despite the fact that the group will be missing both Ant and Dec.
Television
One of the most intelligent, worthwhile and wholly fucking pointful exercises in broadcasting history occurred this month with the recreation of 2007's The Trial, in which a dozen made-up celebrities tried a made-up rape case with real lawyers who presumably have NOTHING BETTER TO DO. The conclusion? All celebrities are indeed culpably thick wankers, except that bloke out of Blur. He seemed quite nice. He will not, therefore, be among the first against the wall when your humble reviewer leads a mass-uprising of enraged neo-anarchists who have completely lost their faith in the millennium-old British jury system, as a direct result of this programme. The rest of them, mind, can look out.
Books
If there's one thing that contemporary publishers love even more than celebrity cook books it's child abuse; so it was only a matter of time before we saw the triumphant launch of A Meal Called It: A Horrifying Story Of Brutality With 255 Brand New Low-GI Recipies. Each concoction comes with its own heartbreaking tale of injustice and woe, and a full-colour photograph. I particularly liked p.116's Special Irish Orphanage Pie, although like all the pastry dishes in this collection it is more than a little over-egged. And, why do all the desserts begin "Take a bucket of saccharine"?
Theatre
Daniel Radcliffe blah blah gets his tits out, blah blah, sex with horses, blah blah bloody blah. Next!
Echoing the high-profile return of five years ago, Take That have recently announced that they're re-forming again, prompting tens of thousands of teenage music fans up and down the country to call a special dedicated helpline, set up to support them through this traumatic time and console them for the ensuing damage which will inevitably strike the British pop industry. Unfortunately, they are still without Robbie, who is currently undergoing intensive residential rehab for an addiction to Pepsi Max and Texas BBQ Pringles.
As if the idea of Take That sans Robbie was altogether pointful, the Jam will also be getting together minus Paul Weller, and The Police are planning a full-scale world-tour without Sting. This has prompted rumours that the three iconic UK stars have formed a super-group and have already cut some secret sessions; we at ferretbrain's clairvoyance department cannot be absolutely sure of the provenance of the bootleg cd which drifted into my in-tray this morning, but there's certainly enough classic lyrical word-play and swaggering showmanship on the first track, Up Yours Pal (We're Already Fucking Loaded)...In the meantime, look out for the up and coming stadium sell-out by comedy 80s stereotypes Chas and Dave. Without Chas. Or Dave. And Ant and Dec are scheduled to play a series of intimate venues in select regional music clubs, despite the fact that the group will be missing both Ant and Dec.
Television
One of the most intelligent, worthwhile and wholly fucking pointful exercises in broadcasting history occurred this month with the recreation of 2007's The Trial, in which a dozen made-up celebrities tried a made-up rape case with real lawyers who presumably have NOTHING BETTER TO DO. The conclusion? All celebrities are indeed culpably thick wankers, except that bloke out of Blur. He seemed quite nice. He will not, therefore, be among the first against the wall when your humble reviewer leads a mass-uprising of enraged neo-anarchists who have completely lost their faith in the millennium-old British jury system, as a direct result of this programme. The rest of them, mind, can look out.
Books
If there's one thing that contemporary publishers love even more than celebrity cook books it's child abuse; so it was only a matter of time before we saw the triumphant launch of A Meal Called It: A Horrifying Story Of Brutality With 255 Brand New Low-GI Recipies. Each concoction comes with its own heartbreaking tale of injustice and woe, and a full-colour photograph. I particularly liked p.116's Special Irish Orphanage Pie, although like all the pastry dishes in this collection it is more than a little over-egged. And, why do all the desserts begin "Take a bucket of saccharine"?
Theatre
Daniel Radcliffe blah blah gets his tits out, blah blah, sex with horses, blah blah bloody blah. Next!
