The Monday Dump with Roy and H.G.
UP The good news is that Roy and H.G. are back from their pre-Winter
Olympics fact-finding mission in Salt Lake City and are now ensconced in
Brisbane for a couple of weeks to cover the mighty cash safari that is the
Goodwill Games. (The even better news is that we can enjoy them without the
distracting background hum of our VCRs taping The Sopranos.)
However, those expecting a reprise of The Dream, during which visiting
athletes visited the boys to exchange tributes, may need reminding that Nine,
not Seven, has the rights to the whole overcooked affair. The wholesale sharing
of talent by the networks, while not impossible, is about as likely as Fatso the
Fat-Arsed Wombat taking Brian Henderson's place on the 6pm news.
What should we expect from the new series? I'm not totally sure but Roy is on
record (see page 2) as saying he'd like to see the re-emergence of the mystic
art of ``channelling" and with it further ventilations from that garrulous
ancient god ``Ramtha", who doubtless has had a lot to think about since the
phone stopped ringing in the late '80s.
UP I've only seen tonight's episode, but by halfway it was plain that, in
script and ideas alone, Life Support is one of the best new Australian comedies
in a very long time.
As with the best comedy, there's a uniqueness to the humour suggestive of a
pack attitude among the show's writers. The very idea for the show is a cracker.
It's a lampoon of all the lifestyle programs that clog early evening schedules
A team of four presenters each one a glorious fool condescend to show us
ingenious life solutions. Todd the Handyman, for example, demonstrates how to
turn a hardback copy of Love in the Time of Cholera into a commodious home for
your video copy of Police Academy V.
Generic network blonde Sigourney advises us on how to use crochet-knit
``playcovers" to conceal those everyday things that offend the eye, such as a
toilet cistern or an unsightly Siamese twin. And a little later she demonstrates
how any girl can make sure she gets the flattering effects of candlelight at
her boyfriend's house simply by sabotaging the nearest electricity substation.
Then there's caring new-age Penne (pronounced Penny), who interviews the
vocalist of ``melancholy trio" Chamber Mouth, a chap so very depressed he sings
and converses with a sawn-off shotgun in his mouth. ``I even liked him in the
early days," says one fan, ``when he used to sing with just sleeping pills in
Home and Away: UK
UP Over the past 13 years, Home and Away has built an estimated daily
audience of 60 million in 48 countries from Belgium to Botswana. But nowhere is
it more popular than among the whey-faced Brits who used to broadcast its
appealing surf-happy visions twice a day even as far back as the time of Lance,
Morag and whoever it was that Alex Papps once pretended to be.
If Home and Away remains anything like as enmeshed in Britain's waking
thoughts as it was 10 years ago, there's a good chance the actors will be
refused the right to leave and forced to stay on in character.
Anyway, this episode finds Donald Fisher at the Tate Modern flogging his new
book, Letter to Byron, a work inspired by the death of his young son. While
nattering to the publicist about the Booker and whatnot, who should appear but
Marilyn, the mother of said Byron, who scarpered to London a year before, unable
Bob the Builder
UP I wish I was Bob the Builder, the chirpy, hard-hatted, little fix-it man
who makes a welcome return in an all-new series this afternoon.
The colour scheme in his town is highly exuberant, the bulldozers talk,
there are zero sharemarket jitters, zero Norwegian container ships and zero
speed-techno. But mostly it's because he has a really cool tool belt.
Today he is putting the Bob belt to good use fixing a gable when that
irrepressible and utterly thick pooch, Scruffty, gets trapped in a rabbit
It's a tough situation. Can they fix him? (I mean, ``it"?)
What do you think?