Lordy. Finally it is over. The last ever Only Fools And Horses. Please this time let that be true. Ending again with a birth, a couple of discarded old plots, a deus ex machina and the creekiest David Bowie joke I have heard in a long time (Ziggy Saw[…]

As a keen student/pedant of juker science you’d have expected me to have tried one of the new-fangled Digital Jukeboxes before now but in fact the ILX pub crawl on the 30th was my first such encounter. And fogeyishly enough I’m not sure I[…]

Blatantly edumacational link #1 Photograph 51 explained ‘ a quick exploration of why Rosalind Franklin’s (and Raymond Gosling’s) photo allowed Crick and Watson to make a good guess at the structure of DNA.
Not very punk, sorry, Geet[…]

Since I have professed my love for the banjo before, it will come as no surprise as to how much I like Nelly Furtado’s Powerless. Despite the classic second album “poor ole me lyrics”, the other Nelly has managed to strap her tradem[…]

David Thompson, in his discussion of Carl Franklin as a director in his Autobiographical Dictionary Of Film, mentions how good he is a directing multi-racial films without drawing attention to this aspect. Out Of Time is another addition to this cano[…]

Critics have been moaning that the new live-action Peter Pan dwells far to much on the burgeoning sexuality of Wendy. What the fuck do they think Peter Pan is about if not the horror and fear of adulthood and all that this entails? Other critics have[…]

40. BROADCAST — ‘Colour Me In’
It starts with a lever being thrown on an old calliope machine found in a cave in the middle of an ocean of ice. The frozen gears begin to turn, the painted metal shrieks with stress, rimed lights glow[…]

Sherburne in Chile: photos, worth it for the Jan 4 one alone really![…]

The main reason I never liked football was that I could never play it. Football at school involved skilfully dodging people who were charging towards me – fine had I been a striker, less so as a defender. Nobody in my family liked the game enou[…]

The one saving grace of C4’s Top 100 Worst Singles programme (apart from it being compulsive point-and-shout watching, bah) was the way the director was clearly on the side of POP against the mealy-mouthed mutterings of SMUG BASTARDS. Almost ev[…]