Entertainment – Middle Age Fanclub

Film Review: ‘Jules’

A bit of an understated gem this one. ‘Jules’ tells the tale of pensioner Milton Robinson (Ben Kingsley) whose life changes overnight when a UFO crashes in his back garden.

Milton is a widowed 79-year-old living rattling around alone in his great big home. His daughter, a local vet, is worried about his mental health, suspecting that her dad is showing signs of early onset dementia. Meanwhile, Milton busies himself by attending the same local council meeting week after week after week and having his requests for more pedestrian crossings turned down. Luckily for him, two other pensioners make the same weekly pilgrimage and both might just be fighting for his attention.

Only when the aforementioned space ship crash lands in his back garden do things start looking up for Milton. He finds the injured alien and after a day or two manages to get it strong enough to enter his house. From that point on the two busy themselves watching daytime TV while Milton tries to figure out what to do for the best. But he’s getting nowhere fast. The local police put him down as some sort of crackpot and his daughter takes his plea for help with the alien as a sign that her dementia diagnosis is correct. But at least he has a cure for his loneliness now.

Things begin to move at pace when his two female admirers get involved with one naming the alien ‘Jules’. But Jules’ fate is nowhere near safe.

While Jules clearly needs to return to his home planet, government forces are working tirelessly in the background to find the alien and his craft, which they know has crashed to earth somewhere in Pennsylvania. Together these pensioners and their adopted alien must find a way to keep Jules hidden while also outwitting the agents that are hunting him down.

‘Jules’ is a really heart warming tale. The bond between Milton and Jules is an unusual one to say the least, but it helps the film deal with issues like ageing, loneliness and mental health quite beautifully. There’s a really subtle undercurrent of dry humour too, which is brought out brilliantly by some excellent performances.

‘Jules’ features a quite wonderful cast. Kingsley is fantastic as the curmudgeonly Milton and is aided and abetted brilliantly by Harriet Sansom Harris as Sandy and Jane Curtin as the feisty Joyce. There’s plenty of life left in these three old timers, that’s for sure, especially when it comes to keeping a lost alien safe!

As with any alien film, you have to suspend your disbelief a bit here. I mean, the fact that no one notices the loud shuddering smash of an alien craft crash landing has to be ignored for starters. But that said, there’s never a great deal of point in picking holes in a plot, is there?

With crusading pensioners, bungling federal agents, a mute alien and a whole host of dead cats, ‘Jules’ is definitely one to watch and it might just turn out to be the favourite film you never knew you needed! A quirky, funny and warm film that is guaranteed to at the very least raise a smile!

I give ‘Jules’…

Film Review: Sisu

They say that it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch, don’t they? Well, there’s never been a truer word spoken when it comes to Finnish film Sisu. The film’s hero is indeed quiet and you can’t help but watch. It’s just a shame the bad guys didn’t seem to hear what ‘they’ said!

Directed by Jalmari Helander, Sisu is set in rural Finland at the back end of World War 2 where the Germans have adopted a somewhat scorched earth policy to their retreat. They’re defeated and almost broken, but not quite finished with all that Nazi stuff. Determined to leave their mark and inflict just a little bit more pain, they trundle along looking for trouble as they head towards their extraction point.

Meanwhile, not too far away an old miner has finally found gold in them there hills and bagging up the bounty from a rich seam, he’s setting off for town to presumably trade it all in for a big bag full of cash. It feels like it’s inevitable that he’s about to be the next victim of this rag tag band of super villains. But, when they meet things don’t quite go to plan for the bad guys and their tank. This is not just any old miner; this is the legendary Finnish commando, Aatami, nicknamed ‘Immortal’ by the last army to cross his path and who doesn’t take the attempts to steal his gold too lightly.

What follows is brutal, entertaining mayhem and at times is thoroughly hilarious. There’s violence aplenty, much of it unbelievable, some of it ridiculous, but all of it the kind that will keep your eyes firmly on screen. Think Tarantino, think Rambo, think John Wick and think Clint Eastwood’s man with no name from the spaghetti westerns and you’ve got a fair idea of what to expect from Sisu. A film not to be taken too seriously that will seriously entertain.

The film seems heavily influenced by Sergio Leone’s work and the spaghetti westerns like Django that followed. The location is bleak, the dialogue minimal and the violence ferocious and gory. And as far fetched as it gets – and it really stretches the imagination here – you’ll find yourself willing Aatami on. You may well be laughing uproariously at times, but he’s not. Nor is he saying much and yet such is Jorma Tommila’s portrayal of our good guy, especially when set against the almost cartoonish Nazis, that you find yourself desperate to see him killing them in evermore brutal and unbelievable ways!

If you don’t mind a bit of gore and your after a thoroughly entertaining film to watch then I’d totally recommend Sisu. A captivating watch that will make you wince as much as it’ll make you laugh and cheer. Suspend that sense of disbelief and I promise you won’t be disappointed!

I give Sisu…

The Apprentice: Here comes the final!

So, after what feels like a lifetime chock full of business tasks fuelled by a combination of bizarre decisions and downright ineptitude, we’re mere hours away from another Apprentice finale. And even though I don’t feel that I’ve been as invested in the candidates as I might have been in previous years, I cannot wait!

This year’s finalists are gym owner Rachel Woolford and pie company boss Phil Turner. And it’s anyone’s guess who’ll win out. Unless you’re Lord Sugar of course, who I reckon won’t just guess who he gives £250,000 to.

Even in the interviews it felt like a bit of a lottery in terms of who would make the final. However, once it emerged that Tre didn’t have a business plan or really, a product and that Paul had chosen the wrong plan and that you or I knew just about as much as he did about scrubs, then the field was kind of narrowed down. In fact, given what happened in this year’s interview episode, I’m considering just turning up myself next year with some ideas scrawled down on a crumpled piece of paper titled, ‘Why I need Lord Sugar’s £250,000′ by Graham aged 53. I reckon I’d still have a bit of a chance of making the final.

Of the two finalists, it’s perhaps inevitable that we might look on Rachel as the favourite. Not only has she shown a fair amount of business acumen, hard work and determination throughout the series, but she’s up against Phil! Phil! The very same Phil who lost all of the first 9 tasks and seemed to be in the boardroom fighting for his life every other week. But then again, he’s in the final for a reason. We have to presume that Lord Sugar and his people have spotted something in him, surely. None of us has much idea what it might be though!

Last week, Phil added to his Apprentice legacy by revealing in the interviews that he hasn’t seen a set of accounts for his business for about a decade. OK, I’m exaggerating there, but the bloke literally sat and told scary Mike Soutar that he hadn’t seen his accounts for a couple of years. I’m no business viking (as no doubt someone must have referred to themselves over the years), but that feels like me not looking at the fuel gauge in my car for a fortnight and just hoping that I’ll keep getting to where I’m going.

Both candidates seem to have successful businesses and both just want to make them bigger. Fair enough. Rachel wants more gyms – and while we continue to obsess over how we look on social media then we’ll always need more gyms! I mean, where else would the country’s vain halfwits find mirrors big enough to pose in?

Phil, on the other hand, wants to expand his pie business after admitting that he didn’t have the vision to take it any further. And after he made a truffle flavoured vegan cheese that didn’t really taste of truffle…or cheese for that matter, in the last task, you can possibly see why he thinks he lacks vision I suppose.

Conspiracy theorists will have you believe that Phil is being set up to win. I mean, I certainly can’t remember a series where someone failed so spectacularly every week and then still made the final. Some have also pointed to the fact that in his win or bust task – the vegan cheese one – he was given the strongest of the other candidates on his team. But then, some of these people probably still think that the Earth is flat.

So, get yourselves set for an exciting final. There’s no clear favourite, but definitely an underdog. But, with the help of some, if not all of the other candidates from the series, there will be one last task to get through before Lord Sugar decides who he’s going to invest in. And of course, there’s my favourite bit of all; where the two successful candidates have to walk into the room for their pitch, usually down one of the longest walkways or staircases in the modern world. It has to be one of the most awkward TV moments of the year and every year a little bit of is secretly hoping for a trip!

The Apprentice 2024 Final. Can’t wait!

The Apprentice Episode 6 – Cereal Losers.

Although I was able to watch last week’s episode, time constraints meant that a blog update just wasn’t possible. And perhaps it was a good thing to give myself a rest from my own cynicism about this year’s candidates!

This week our merry bunch of halfwits find themselves without Onyeka, while probably all puzzling over the mystery of what Virdi is still doing there. And if no one is asking the question of what it is that Steve actually does, then it’s got to happen soon.

Tonight, the teams are at the Savoy to learn that their next challenge will be to design and market a new cereal aimed at kids. And for what feels like the umpteenth week in a row, Lord Sugar appears as some kind of cartoon.

Sam and Steve take on the project manager roles and before we know it, we’ve got our cereal ideas. Steve decides that their cereal will be based around superheroes – because if you ignore the million and one superheroes around at the moment, this one hasn’t been done before. Meanwhile, Sam’s team decide on the theme of the Arctic. And that’s not even an attempt at a joke. Their children’s cereal theme really will be based around the Arctic.

There follows a debate about whether or not Sam’s sub team should follow a STRONG RECOMMENMDATION about the fruit content in the recipe. They decide not to because they of course know best. But never mind, because I’m sure this won’t be a decision that will come back to haunt them.

There follows a strange moment where Virdi is caught on camera looking terrified by the mere image of a cartoon polar bear taking shape on the screen before him and for a while I wonder whether he’ll be able to have any effect on tonight’s result. And then I remember, it’s Virdi, so if there’s any dancing to be done he’ll find a way to get involved, but other than being scared of a drawing, that might be tonight’s high point.

Over on the other team, Tre and friends try to come to some important decisions about the character for their cereal by just saying ‘erm’ a lot, before in the end deciding that their superhero needs a cape. A superhero in a cape?Surely, that’ll never catch on.

Having watched both teams grapple with the demands of the target audience I’m left questioning why, year after year, no one on the show ever seems to understand what kids of a certain age might like. It’s up there with the Bermuda Triangle in terms of life’s great mysteries for me.

Later, I’m similarly confused when Maura announces to her team that their kid friendly character is just “an ordinary boy…who’s a polar bear”. Well, I suppose we all went to school with one of those.

The task continues with both teams trying to come up with an augmented reality game that will appeal to kids who have scanned the QR code on the cereal box. As someone who seems to be evermore unable to scan QR codes I’m in full on ‘Virdi meets cartoon polar bear mode’ and my wife has to slap me back to reality, pause the show and make me a hot chocolate in order for me to calm back down.

As expected, both tasks bring out the candidates not so inner idiots and it’s not long before we’re witnessing Noor failing to read words and move at the same time and Virdi deeming a cartoon polar bear as “absolutely amazing”. Well, he changed his tune!

At the taste test, no one seems to be able to taste the passion fruit in the Super Hoops. But is that just because no one’s ever been able to actually finish a passion fruit?

Before we know it, the teams are squaring up to face the industry experts and it’s time for more fun. From the facial expressions in the room it becomes clear that these cereals are not exactly taste sensations. Either that or several of the watching experts have walked through the same fart that Karen does every week. Dentist Paul starts his negotiation with frozen food giant Iceland by telling them that linking up with a cartoon polar bear would be a “match made in Heaven” and you think, he’s got a point…this might work. And then he follows this up by telling them that the cereal tastes bland – that’ll be what happens when you ignore a STRONG RECOMMENDATION – and as the air is sucked out of the room I’m left wondering why he even bothers asking if they’d like to buy some.

On the other side of the room meanwhile, while Phil pushes hard to get a deal out of a reluctant customer, Virdi’s contribution is to pull the kind of faces that suggest he’s mistakenly put on underwear that’s about four sizes too small. No wonder the client walks away.

And then I watch on, out of my business depth (which peaks at about 2mm, if you need to know), while Foluso secures an exclusivity deal with Iceland for 200,000 boxes of Super Hoops cereal. It means that they can’t sell to anyone else for 3 months, but is it a gamble worth taking? I haven’t a clue, but my smidgen of knowledge tells me that 200,000 is a shitload of cereal. And so, it’s over to Sam’s team to see if they can sell more.

It turns out that they can’t.

And so to the boardroom. where Lord Sugar, you’d expect, will have plenty of spontaneous cereal related gags lined up to test Karen and Tim’s acting ability. Instead though, he starts with another tried and tested favourite – making the candidates feel really uncomfortable. And even then, after some initial frost he thaws out quite quickly. A bit like Sam’s team’s Arctic cereal idea, really.

It feels like Sugar has lost heart this evening and there’s a feeling of just going through the motions, which when we hear the sales figures and get the result, you can kind of understand. While Steve’s lot sell the aforementioned 200,000 boxes of cereal, Sam’s team finish a distant second – and lose in a catastrophic manner – selling just over 7000.

It’s all too much for Lord Sugar, who almost explodes with cereal puns, calling Sam’s team ‘cereal losers’ and telling them that when they come back in to the boardroom some of them will be saying ‘Cheerios’. Later, he completes his hat-trick when he refers to the loser’s cereal as being more ‘All Bland’ than ‘All Bran’. It’s like he’s been willing himself not to go too early with the comedy until the point where he literally can’t wait any longer and simply has to blurt out some puns. Classic Sugar!

The candidates don’t laugh and instead just head to the cafe to bicker.

At this point in proceedings I’m beginning to feel sorry for Flo, who has pretty much been the only candidate I’ve had much time for so far in the series. She’s clearly capable and yet has found herself stuck on a team hampered by the incompetence of others. She must feel absolutely cursed.

In the end tonight, the only surprise is that Virdi and Phil are still here. Having lost on every task, their time must be almost up. Watching the episode tonight though, I can’t help feeling that there’d be no great loss in getting rid of most of them and just making up the shortfall with the polar bear and Mega Bella from tonight’s cereal boxes.

When we’re done tonight, Sam has been fired and leaves by telling Lord Sugar to remember to ‘pop round for a cuppa’. It’s a deserved firing, but that last bit puzzles me. I mean, imagine Sugar standing on your doorstep, inviting himself in and then make snide remarks about your biscuits and getting Karen to pull faces at your kids.

Back at the house with tonight’s ‘winners’, we end with the penny dropping for Phil. Apparently, ‘one slip up and we’re gone’. No shit, Sherlock.

The Apprentice Episode 4: Buying jerseys in Jersey.

I’ve always fancied visiting Jersey. Something about it seems a bit of a cut above and because it’s a channel island I feel like it has it’s own balmy micro-climate. Lovely beaches, stunning scenery, ancient castles and what feels like a wonderful, relaxed lifestyle; it’s always just felt like somewhere I’d love to sample and yet never gotten round to getting to. I’m sure lots of people share this view.

Imagine if you will then, that you finally short haul yourself there and are just taking in the mid morning air when up screeches a couple of ominous black people carriers to spit out the kaleidoscope of colour and braying nonsense that is a a load of Apprentice candidates.

They stomp across to you and shout a question in your face, something like, “Hi, we’re new to Jersey and oh, it’s so beautiful. We were wondering, do you know what a potato is?” And in those few, brief moments your Jersey dream is well and truly shattered.

That’s right. Tonight’s episode was what I like to refer to as the ‘buying tat’ one where the remaining buffoons are sent to somewhere lovely to buy stuff, with the sub text being a day or so of bad manners, condescension and chaos. Jersey may well be still recovering from the trauma.

To cut to the chase, we join the candidates as they’re perusing the list of items. Jack and Raj are tonight’s PMs and as ever, if it was a masterclass in leadership you were after you’d be better off doing some channel hopping of a different kind and heading for Cartoon Network.

Without fail, this task always highlights the lack of knowledge of ‘stuff’ among the candidates. No one seems to be able to say ‘shuck’ let alone work out what it’s got to do with an oyster. Instead the tactic seems to be to just repeat the word, incorrectly while occasionally spelling it out. Because we all know that generally helps.

Within minutes, Jack is displaying all the leadership qualities of a third world dictator as he delegates the items between his team and the sub team, giving everything he can’t spell, define or pronounce to Amina’s side of the team. Don’t quote me on this, but I think his team left themselves with a pen, a button and a lettuce to buy.

Speaking of Jack and negotiation, in his pre-task talk he manages to take things to a new low, demanding that his team start any negotiation by demanding 75% off the price quoted. On a show where shame and humility are often in very short supply, this is nothing short of shocking and his team give a collective gulp and probably decide there and then to just pretend it never happened.

As both teams race around the island not only do I imagine holiday bookings are taking a hit, but I’m struck by two things. Last week, I realised that there were several candidates that I couldn’t name. This week, it hits me that I don’t think I actually like any of them and while that could change, I’m a bit perturbed by it. Why am I even watching? The other realisation is that Steve, who seems to have come dressed as a low budget Miami Vice tribute act, doesn’t seem to be doing anything at all apart from running around and smiling awkwardly. Sure, he gets in on a negotiation later on in the episode, but it’s the kind of bartering I feel even I could manage.

Next up in negotiation masterclass is project manager Jack, who you’ll remember wanted 75% off everything. His tactic is to talk to the client like she’s 11, tell her how beautiful Jersey is and – here’s the good bit that us mere mortals wouldn’t think of – repeatedly saying “oh wow”. Bizarrely though, it works and he gets the same brandy as the other team with double the discount; nowhere near his 75%, but still…oh wow. It’s the kind of tactic that has me planning a visit to Greggs this weekend where I’ll take my wife, kids and a camcorder, fawn all over the assistant while slipping in some “oh wows” and hope to leave with three sausage, bean and cheese melts, a vegan sausage roll and a steak bake and still have change from a quid. Inspirational stuff, Jack…

In a different part of the island, Jack’s sub team are wrestling with a number of difficult tasks. Not the actual items that need purchasing though, more stuff like which direction they’re headed in and where they might actually be on the map. The answer it seems is “around here somewhere”.

I’ve always thought that a market would be a great place to source items for this task. There’s a diverse range of products all in one place and the traders probably aren’t averse to a bit of bartering. Amina’s sub team have the same thought, but their plan crumbles when they forget to look at what’s on sale and just run around the market aimlessly. Karen, who is shadowing them can’t help but pull the usual unimpressed face – you know the one; like she’s just walked through someone else’s fart – as she passes a basket of potatoes and a jumper with an anchor on it, both of which are easy wins from the list!

The funny thing about this is that both teams fail to buy potatoes. Potatoes! In the boardroom, they’re both fined £90 for failing to buy some Jersey royals while wandering around Jersey, the home of Jersey royals. Oh dear.

Later, the same three individuals are clearly running out of time in which they might locate some elusive potatoes or even a jumper with an anchor on it. So they must come up with a plan. The time saving result? Pull over and have a bit of a think. Yep, that’ll make time stand still for a bit.

The task ends in the usual way, with both teams legging it to the meeting point in order to be on time. Sadly, the pulling over trick hasn’t worked, time hasn’t actually stood still and Jack is reduced to giving Amina a running piggy back up the causeway. They’re still late, but the rest of the team cheer like kids at a toddlers birthday anyway, because ultimately no one has the faintest idea what they’re doing.

In the boardroom, Lord Sugar can’t resist a little bit of Carry On style smut after one of the candidates had been asked to help with some glass blowing in order to get a discount on a product. Thankfully, with a nudge and a wink, we move on.

In no time at all, the ridiculously predictable happens. Jack’s team suffers a heavy defeat. And then a meltdown.

Some of the quotes that accompany the defeat tell their own story. “One of the worst results ever in this task”, “Pretty much the worst team that I ever had on this” and “Amateur”. As a viewer it’s nothing short of hilarious. In the boardroom, it must be terrifying. But then don’t claim to be the world’s greatest business person on your CV if you are in fact “amateur”!

In the end it’s almost irrelevant who leaves. The story is that Lord Sugar changes his mind and brings every member of the team back into the boardroom. The result? A quickfire double sacking and we wave goodbye to both Jack and Amina, which is the only fair result. The only question I’m left with isn’t about those two. It’s about Karen. Why does she so often feel the need to say “I gotta tell you” before telling us stuff?

Tonight, following yet more large scale ineptitude we’re left to mull over another line from Lord Sugar, who tells us, “You know what? I’m not happy.” Not happy? With two teams of grown ups that can’t find a potato? Why ever not?

Apprentice Week 3 – Virtual Escape Rooms.

I’ve never liked the idea of escape rooms. The challenge of getting out of a room that someone will eventually just let me out of anyway has no appeal to me. I don’t want to spend a shed load of money to then find that I’m way too stupid to figure out some puzzles. Coupled with the fact that if I went with my wife, we’d end up arguing to the point of possible divorce, tonight’s task doesn’t exactly excite me.

And then, I remember that Asif will be a project manager and I’m diving for the remote control!

Tonight Lord Sugar has sensed early that the boys are a dead loss and so he splits up the teams in the hope of adding at least a little bit of competition to the competition. I mean, we can’t all be satisfied to spend the entire series laughing at people who regard themselves as business gods, but make the decisions of toddlers, can we?

The first task for the newly formed teams is to decide on a name, but when Maura suggests what sounds like an Irish name, her team mates are stumped and get her to repeat it three times before rejecting it presumably because they still don’t know what she’s saying. And when so many people are so confused by just two syllables, then the writing is surely on the wall for tonight’s result.

On the other team, Flo seems to have decided that she actually is the team, which even after her excellent pitch last week, seems like a bit of an ask. Perhaps she’s a Flobot though?

As is often the way with creative tasks, these young titans of business just aren’t very creative and so the whole online escape room idea threatens to descend into even more chaos than usual. I’m forced to remind myself that in around 6 weeks time, some of these candidates will have morphed into genuinely credible business types before my very eyes, as is the case every year. For now though, it’s the usual festival of f***wittery.

In response to the brief that their game should be kept fairly simple, Asif’s team are genuinely discussing something that involves crash landing on a derelict ex-military island where there are not only rare animals, but inbred ones too. Thankfully, not enough eyes light up at that suggestion, but it is an indication that perhaps the BBC should be vetting the candidates with a bit more scrutiny in future.

This week, once again, it’s the editing that gives us our moments of genius as the silences that accompany a series of ever more bizarre suggestions taking the limelight away from the contestants themselves.

In the end, after one silence too many Asif’s game design team settle on a rare animal to inhabit their island. It’s a bear. Not even a rare one. Just a bear. And in fact there are three of them that because they’re computer generated, look like they might be line dancing. Escape that, gaming nerds!

Over on the other side Tre decides that the mayor character in their game needs to be young and handsome, so decides to cast himself in the role and proceeds to guide the computer bloke to find a face that’s as close to his own as he can! He then proceeds to double down on his Tre-ness by doing the voiceover as well.

On the other team, Maura struggles with her voiceover – as well as simply looking in the right direction – so that the end result is akin to me getting one of my Year 8 students to act out an airline safety briefing. Suffice to say, if somehow, someone had got me to have a look at this particular escape room, the intro would have me doing a swift about turn and heading for the nearest exit.

As ever, both teams make a mess of their logos. This is always the way and again begs the question about business types perhaps not being particularly creative. And Asif’s logo very much backs this up, given his obsession with adding a couple of arrows to both of the words. Someone suggests that it looks ‘a little like a supermarket logo’. Surely what they mean is that it looks a Lidl like a supermarket logo?

With both Escape Rooms complete – and frankly pretty shit – the teams go to pitch their ideas. Flo is quick to back herself, which after last week’s performance seems like a safe bet. So, it’s a shock when she dries up mid pitch and clearly doesn’t know what to say. It’s both compulsive viewing and a moment where you want the ground to just swallow her up. In the end, she just introduces the video for the escape room and passes it off in the boardroom later on as something that lasted a millisecond. It’s a shock after seeing her being so competent in negotiation last week though.

At the end of the pitch one of the investors declares that Flo’s escape room is ‘as fun as a wet fish’, proving that the game might be a bit of a failure, but not as much of a failure as a gamer having to come up with a slick one liner.

Meanwhile, with the other team, the experts declare that their game is a bit surreal. However, Asif has the perfect comeback – it isn’t surreal, it’s meant to be realistic. That’s the game where a military helicopter crash lands on a derelict military island (whatever that might be) and the pilot not only survives the helicopter crash, but has to get away from some line-dancing bears, before running across a rickety bridge and then having a dance on the deck of a conveniently located ship. Yep, you’re right Asif. That’s not in the least bit surreal.

Tonight I suddenly realise that there are several candidates that I don’t even know the name of. In fact, there’s at least one I have no recollection of whatsoever. Could we see a sacking next week just because someone has been hiding a bit? You heard it here first, folks!

Paul then gives such a convoluted explanation of their game that after the full 3 minutes of him rambling on about what the game entails, all we need is a cry of ‘Parklife’ and we’re done. Suffice to say though, there are a few puzzled faces in the panel of experts.

In the boardroom I realise that I’m spending far too long trying to work out Asif’s hair. I mean, what does he ask for when he sits down in the chair? At one point it looks like there’s a giant spider attached to the back of his head and there’s sections of hair heading to every compass point on the top of his head. By this point in proceedings his team have lost and despite making a profit, they’ve lost by a landslide too.

Asif proceeds to blame everyone else for the failure, but unless the twist is that Amina is sacked because she forgot how to speak in the pitch, then there’s only one decision to make.

And so it comes to pass that Asif is fired having lost control in the boardroom and seen the other three candidates simply turn on him. When he’s told he’s “a poor, poor manager” he tells us “I won’t be defeated”. Famous last words, my friend! Before we know it he’s getting into the black cab never to be seen again.

Back at the house, the surviving candidates are as full of themselves as ever, until Lord Sugar knocks at the door. I really want him to be trying to sell them something, but alas he’s just introducing next week’s task, which is the purchasing task over on one of the Channel Islands.

The candidates are delighted, with one declaring, “a treasure hunt on an island. What more could you want?” Ooh, I don’t know…some line dancing bears, maybe?

But there’s more. In the outro of tonight’s show we get a teaser for next week with Lord Sugar growling the line “pretty much the worst team I’ve ever had on this task” which makes me laugh uproariously.

They say that we love the underdog in the U.K., but I’m gradually coming round to the idea that we love an abject failure even more. I cannot wait for next Thursday!

The Apprentice 2024 – a few observations on episode 1…

I’ll confess that I’d forgotten about The Apprentice this year. And if I’d have remembered, I probably would have been reasonably adamant that I wasn’t going to watch it. Same old fame hungry, obnoxious parade of fools, same old Lord Sugar wisecracks and same old tasks. Somehow though, when we realised that our series link on Sky was taping it, we found ourselves drawn to the familiarity of the whole thing. So, what did I find in episode 1?

In short, it was the same old fame hungry, obnoxious parade of fools, the same old Lord Sugar wisecracks and the same old tasks…and yet, I was gripped throughout!

I missed the first few minutes – busy with hunting down less than healthy snacks, I’m afraid – so if there were the usual claims of invincibility, possession of the world’s greatest personality or superhuman sales powers, then I wasn’t there for that.

I joined the candidates – not literally – in the boardroom where Lord Sugar introduced us to this year’s two tables full of business jesters and it felt like his pre-written ‘off the cuff’ jokes about the candidates were more obvious than ever. Mind you, he had everyone chuckling loudly along; but then what else are you going to do when your fate lies in his hands? I mean, imagine the year when someone pipes up with an unexpected comeback…

One candidate had listed himself as a combination of brains and beauty on his CV, to which Sugs added “and bollocks”. And it’s wit like that, as well as a wonderful gift for alliteration that keeps us all glued to the screen, isn’t it? That said, this bloke was hardly George Clooney, so maybe our resident Lord was just being accurate, rather than funny.

This year, there’s a twist; the first task is the corporate away day task, rather than the finding items one and while I’d been my usual cynical self to this point, now even I’m taking a sharp intake of breath. I mean, this can only go wrong, surely. Thankfully – spoiler alert – wrong is very much the word here.

The teams are split into girls and boys and if they’re given a witty business name, then I don’t catch it. Tonight, they’re off to the highlands of Scotland and so when Virdi volunteers to be project manager and then says he’ll treat the clients to some bhangra dancing, it’s a bit of a surprise. I’d innocently expected something a bit more traditional, but maybe that’s why I’m still an English teacher rather than a business titan.

As both teams plan their ‘experience’ it’s hard not to use your foresight and spot where it might all unravel. Especially tonight, when every plan sounds fraught with danger and the chance of throwing money away. On the boys team someone promises to ‘bring the pardy’ – yep, not ‘party’ – and I’m immediately wondering if perhaps his last pardy was for his own 5th birthday. Meanwhile, the girls decide that the world class highland games athlete isn’t needed for their own mini highland games, so they’ll just do it themselves. I mean, it’s only throwing tree trunks and boulders about, so what could possibly go wrong when you don’t really know what you’re doing?

Over on the boy’s team they’d decided that offering a welcome drink of a glass of water to their corporate clients was a good idea and – hands up if you can see something going wrong here – the team running the activity had told the team doing the food to have it ready for 2.15, on the dot. Don’t anyone worry though; these are young titans of business, so someone’s absolutely sure to be keeping an eye on the time.

Speaking of food teams, there’s something not quite right about the fishcakes that the girls are making for their client’s dinner. And at the same time, the mix for the rhubarb crumble has gone missing. I mean, they couldn’t have, could they? Turns out they could.

The editing on The Apprentice is always brilliantly done and cut together to make sure that the narrative fits together in a way that means you’re never quite sure who will win and where the next point of tension will come from. In the opening episode we get just enough of a tease about the crumble fishcakes, followed by no further reference to them until right before they’re being served up. As a result, the tension was palpable as they were served up, with no one sure of what was about to happen. I have to say that the slow reveal of the client’s facial reaction as the sweet fishcakes hit their tastebuds was a thing of beauty! But the unwitting candidates reacted well, with Sam pacifying them the promise of a dessert that would be to die for, which it turns out, had the eaten it, they almost certainly would have.

As we wondered what the client was going to eat, we left the girls camp to head back to the boys, where ‘surprise, surprise’ the activity had run over. Cut to the kitchen and the food is out, but 2.15 has very quickly become almost 3pm! The result? In a staggering display of not actually grasping the gravity of the situation, Asif and Tre pretty much blamed the kitchen staff!

And when we then saw the clients tapping the sausages off the plate and heard the accompanying ‘clang’ it was hard to argue about where the blame should lie…unless you knew about the 2.15 deadline, that is! Again though, the story here – and the comedy – is in the faces of everyone involved. The poor hungry clients who’ve paid hundreds of pounds for a bit of a walk, some bhangra dancing, a toe curling episode where Virdi does some horrendous MCing and genuinely asks the client to ‘make some noise’ not once, but twice, followed by some toad in the hole, are horrified!

Amazingly for the entertainment offered up by the boy’s team, the best is yet to come and in fact, will be offered up in instalments in what remains of the episode. And the first instalment, there’s not long to wait as despite the enormous levels of sheer disaster about the whole day, Jack still has the sheer brass neck to ask if anyone would like to give a tip!

In the boardroom, I’m fully expecting a history making multiple sacking, with Lord Sugar’s pointy finger working overtime. Both teams have to give refunds, but despite the girl’s making a measly £122 profit, it’s the boys who lose after a 52% refund turns their profit into a staggering loss! The comedy reaches its peak when one of them initially claps and whoops a bit, explaining that he thought they’d made £300 profit and won. The silence is deafening. This guy is not being given a quarter of a million pounds of Lord Sugar’s money!

In then end, despite organising surely one of the worst corporate days out in history, project manager Virdi is saved for ‘having the balls to step up’ according to Lord Sugar. Or was it just because here is a man who has only given the tiniest glimpse of his capacity for entertaining the nation? We’ll find out in the coming weeks.

For now though, it’s Oliver who’s fired, seemingly because he just looked a lot more gormless than the rest of the lads, which is an achievement in itself.

I can’t promise a review every week, but I can promise that The Apprentice is sure to serve up some classic comedy in the coming months. If only that was the remit…

X-Box, YouTube edits, Minecraft? Sorry, I’m just not game.

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Photo by suludan diliyaer on Pexels.com

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

I’m starting to think I’m living in the wrong house. The more I hear the shouting, the stamping and watch the levels of concentration and frustration that go into looking at a mobile phone, the more I feel like an alien in my own home.

So what’s the problem? Has lockdown found us out? Are me and the wife no longer compatible after 25 years together and has everything just run its natural course? Have my children decided they want a cooler, younger dad and have I decided that, in fact, I just don’t really like them? Have they been mixing with the wrong crowd? Do they all resent my accent, my north-east roots and my football team?

Well, although my daughter especially would like a younger, cooler dad, the answer is no. In fact, it’s just a question of creativity and a difference of interests. There’s no major crisis; a marriage won’t end, there’s lots of love still to share and I’ll be dadding around these parts for a while yet. It’s just that I don’t understand all this gaming and YouTubing!

While I don’t live in a house of what you’d call obsessive gamers it’s fair to say that the other three occupants (wife and two children) play their fair share of games. My son especially, is worryingly keen on his X-Box. He’s ten and into things like Minecraft and Roblox, as well as being a fan of FIFA. My wife, while also enjoying the odd game on X-Box, is far more likely to be found scrolling around and tapping away on her phone playing Hay Day or word games, while my daughter is obsessed with making video edits. None of this makes any sense to me.

I think I probably gave up all things game related in my twenties. At that time I was hooked on Football Manager and would gladly spend hours buying and selling players and taking teams from non league through to European glory. I would spend so long playing, sometimes into the early hours, that it would cause arguments. And it became a real bone of contention in my relationship. So I stopped. Simple. I still have the odd urge to play, especially when a friend mentions the game, but I know that the demands on my time really won’t allow. And dabbling with such addiction is a dangerous game to play.

It’s not, however, the act of playing the game or making the video that I don’t understand. It’s the games and videos themselves. I don’t know as much about the kind of video edits that my daughter makes, so can’t really comment in any detail. I will though, of course! I’ve watched them and they made me feel unnaturally old! Images were cut together so quick that I couldn’t really tell what was going on, let alone see the point. The gaming however, is another matter.

The first thing that strikes me when I watch my son playing Minecraft or Roblox is just how primitive it looks. In an age where computer graphics look like scenes from life itself, these games are put together with blocks and they look like the kind of graphics and games I grew up with. But I can get over that. The thing that really puzzles me is what he’s actually meant to be doing.

Socially, it’s a nice thing, really. He’s there, headset on, controller gripped tightly, conversing with several friends and rampaging through some kind of landscape. But why? From what I can gather, on Minecraft if he’s not building something, he’s killing something. Unless of course he’s just running away from something that’s trying to kill him. And then there’s the fact that sometimes one of his friends might just try to destroy the thing he’s built, because that’s funny right? Nope, you’ve lost me. It’s like getting some IKEA furniture, but with added – and made up – jeopardy.

Then there’s Roblox, which seems to have several hundred different varieties of game to it. Sometimes he’s in a world – building, of course – while trying to find other gangs’ eggs and break them. Egg Wars, apparently. No, really. He’s just running around trying to smash eggs. He’ll be simultaneously trying to keep his own eggs alive. At other times he’s earning money to buy cars and then drive them down a hill, in what seems to be a huge garage, and crash them into the wall at the end. His character will just bounce out of the wreckage ready to do it all again. I’ve stood and watched this, transfixed, for a good quarter of an hour, and nothing changes. Drive, crash, drive, crash ad infinitum. I don’t understand. I watch, waiting for something to happen and yet it just doesn’t. And he keeps on doing it like it’s the greatest thing man has ever discovered. Weird. I usually walk off feeling like I might be going mad.

And then there’s the noise. The gaming noise. We have a wooden floor in our living room and when he’s playing X-Box the noise is just incredible. He doesn’t seem to be able to stand still. If his character is moving then so is he. Literally bouncing around the room, thudding off the floor with every step. While he’s doing this he’s invariably shouting nonsense into his headset’s microphone. Sometimes it’s sentences, commands, sometimes it’s just words, but more often than not it’s simply tortured noises. Like someone’s invited a zombie or a bear into the house. Or a zombified bear. Recently I made a video – a poetry reading – and while it wasn’t something deadly serious that I was doing, I didn’t want peoples’ main reaction having watched to have been wondering about phoning Childline because someone in Graham’s house was torturing a child or an animal. But despite the fact that I was in another room, and the fact that he’d been asked to try and keep the noise down for just a few minutes, there he was “Nnnnnghhhh”ing and “Aaaaaarrrgggghhhh”ing on in the background.

My eldest child also baffles me with her gaming choices. She’s a fairly avid player of the game BitLife, a life simulator where the aim appears to be to become a model citizen. Because of course actual life – not a simulation – is simply not enough when you’re thirteen. Again, I just don’t get it. She seems to spend her time on it aiming to become anything but a model citizen. If she’s not telling me that she’s got eight children by seven different dads, then she’s declaring that she’s lost her job or some other worryingly negative achievement, like having mudered someone. This is literally always accompanied by a huge grin.

I suppose some of the attraction here comes from the fact that teenagers need to feel more grown up. And we all wanted that when we were younger. Maybe BitLife should add a paying your Council Tax section or a ‘the top of the tap’s come off in the bathroom and there’s water everywhere’ bit. Add some more of the humdrum of actual real life in and let’s see how attractive it all is then!

Her other obsession is with video editing. Now I totally see the point here. It’s creative, it’s a skill that may well be useful in later life and given that she’s quite artistic it serves to sate some of that appetite. But then I watch some of her videos and I’m absolutely lost. When she was a lot younger they used to just be her dancing and flicking her hair to music. Not exactly interesting, but harmless all the same. And also ones to use during the Father of the Bride speech at any future wedding that she may have.

Nowadays, she seems to specialise in pictures of celebrities edited together with captions and music. People actually watch them! She’s also edited stuff together about celebrity news stories. And when I say celebrities, I mean absolute talentless nonentities. I watch them and, as well as being disorientated by the speed of the edits, I’m utterly puzzled as to who these people are. I never recognise anyone! My daughter just laughs at her middle-aged dad, face screwed up in concentration and failing to see the point, once again.

Lastly, we come to my wife; also a bit of a gamer. Now some of the time she plays what she calls ‘educational games’; things where you have to make words or do a bit of maths. She’s also topping up her German language skills via Duolingo. All fair enough. However, then we come to some of the other games that she plays. (And reading this back, that’s quite the terrifying sentence about one’s wife).

Now, to be fair, she plays each of the following games with one of our children. So, it’s a nice thing to do. A parent playing with their children. No problem. Until of course you look at the details.

I shouldn’t have a problem with this gaming. I could easily go somewhere else and do something else. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But in our house, that’s impossible, because gaming tends to take the form of sitting in the front room, using the big TV, clutching a controller while shouting at the other person in the room. Teamwork, in our house, certainly does not make the dream work. I have never heard arguments like these. Just the other afternoon, I had to stop making a series of work-related phone calls such was the noise below me in our front room. At one point, as one player let the other down and probably got them into a position where death was the only outcome possible, there was the most blood-curdling scream I think I’ve ever heard. I gave it a few more minutes and then just gave up. No one’s actually listening to what you’re saying when there might be a serial killer at work in the background.

The games have no appeal to me whatsoever. One of them is a Jurassic Park game – I have no idea which one. I watched them play a little bit of it just the other day and after a while just had to walk off bewildered, as usual. For a good ten minutes all they did was manoeuvre a jeep around a landscape – probably called Jurassic Park now I come to think of it – before stopping to take pictures of dinosaurs. It seems to be that these photos could be ‘sold’ for money in the game, but as far as I could tell no one had any idea what constituted a good photograph and thus the value of them just kept coming up way short of what was needed. What a waste of time and effort.

Next, we have two more games – Plants vs Zombies and Garden Warfare II. (I had to ask for the names, by the way – as if I would’ve known about the existence of Garden Warfare, let alone the follow up!) Now, I’ll confess, I don’t know what the latter one is. But a part of me hopes it’s the battle to get plants in to the garden in order to annoy your neighbours. The other one is simply plants fighting zombies. They seem to just take a side and then shoot at each other. Again, it usually involves my wife and son and again, more than anything, it seems to just be a case of screaming at each other for doing it wrong. Meanwhile, a zombie has just killed one or both of them. Now maybe I’m too practical, but when I see them playing it I just can’t get past the fact that plants can’t run around and zombies don’t actually exist, and that even if they did I’m not sure they could fire a gun.

I suppose this just shows that, in terms of games and gaming I’m very much a fish out of water. This often leads to our front room being very much a no-go zone for me. Really, I shouldn’t criticise as in a way the gaming that goes on in my house is just another form of creativity. It could be worse. The rest of them could all hate football or music and then I’d be truly lost. So, I can be thankful that it’s just a small difference. That said, I don’t think it’ll ever be a world that I really set foot in. And that includes as a plant, zombie or a strange figure made up entirely of squares.

More middle age gigging: Embrace at Leeds First Direct Arena

IMG-20200315-WA0005 It’s 2.31am. My ears are ringing and my head is full of songs. Sleep, at least for a little while, is no longer an option. So I get up to write some thoughts down to go towards this blog. Given the current climate it’s best to point out that I’ve not come down with the dreaded virus and it’s not worrying about the toilet roll and paracetamol stocks that’s woken me up so soon after getting to bed. No, I’ve got another bout of middle age gigging to blame. Clearly, the excitement of two gigs in 5 months is just too much to handle for this particular 48-year-old.

Around mid afternoon it didn’t look like this gig was going to happen for us. My wife is feeling ill and despite the fact that she’s doing her best to just soldier on through it, it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. We’re going to drag ourselves into Leeds (I say drag; it’s a whole 6 miles or so!) and there’s a distinct possibility that we could be heading home before the first support band is done. I’ve said it before here and I’ll say it again; going to gigs in your middle age is not the experience that you would have had in your teens or twenties. Now, we have a whole load of other factors to consider.

One of these factors is the babysitter and having not heard back from ours for a while we were beginning to worry that they’d forgot. Sure enough, a mid afternoon text confirms that, yes, they’d forgot! A little while later though, they confirm that they’ll be here and it’s all systems go, but at a lot more relaxed pace than ever before. In fact let’s call it all systems slow.

Before I know it though, we’re heading out of the door, having said a fairly straightforward goodbye to our kids, who are normally a great deal more fretful than this. On reflection it’s clear that having had another night out just a few short months ago our children are becoming more accepting of our gallivanting. Considering that this is probably our second night out in the last calendar year it’s indeed very accepting of them to not be hanging off our legs and crying as we head down the hallway. On reflection though, given the global pandemic that we’re experiencing, it’s best that we don’t get used to this going out lark. I mean, I can always turn all the lights off in the kitchen and ask Alexa to play Embrace every so often and just jump around a bit, while having someone else in the house occasionally stand on my feet. I’m sure it’s much the same. Maybe this going out is actually overrated.

So tonight we’re off to see Embrace at Leeds First Direct Arena. Embrace are easily one of our favourite bands, if not the favourite, and in the car on the way we find ourselves discussing just how many times we’ve actually seen them live. We settle on somewhere near 30 times, so tonight is kind of a big deal.

As usual when we get in there I’m reticent to move too far forward. I’m a big fan of my toes and none too keen on other people’s elbows. Never have been. My poorly wife however has other ideas and in what seems like seconds we’ve snaked our way through the crowd, levitated a bit – as mentioned before, it’s one of her super powers – and hovered into a space about 5 yards from the front without anybody else batting an eyelid. Being the rebellious type these days, I haven’t even apologised to any one of those we’ve stood in front of either. Rock, and indeed, roll.

We take our place just in time to catch the last bit of local Leeds indie Legends Cud’s set. Having not particularly been a fan back in the day, it’s no great shame to have missed them, but there is just about enough time to realise that these days, singer Carl Puttnam is quite the ringer for Swiss Toni off The Fast Show. So while he’s throwing a few shapes as the set draws to a close I’m listening closely for any lyrics about ‘making love to a beautiful woman’ or any mention of junior salesman Paul. Sadly, it seems we must have missed that particular tune.

With a bit of time until main support Starsailor take to the stage I have a little look around me. It’s still a little bit weird to see genuine grey-haired folk standing around at a gig, especially so far forward. They’re usually stood around the sound desk just nodding. But then reality bites and I realise that although I’m not completely grey – more a rather suave salt and pepper sort of look these days – I’m very much one of this middle aged gang. And as much as I kid myself that I’m still physically fit for my age, I’m going to feel this in the morning. I would certainly hate to think that I’d done it on a school night and was faced with a day at work the next day.

As Starsailor arrive and launch into their first song, something incredible happens. I’ve said before that I’m terrible with lyrics and will frequently either forget them or just sing my own version with an inane grin on my face. I kid myself that this tactic will convince people that I’m high and therefore incredibly cool, rather than just quite old and forgetful. One day, you’ll find me right at the back of an Embrace gig, just doing my ironing and humming along, looking incredibly pleased with myself. Please dear reader, have a look at the address on the tag around my neck and have someone at the venue stick me in a taxi if it happens. However, tonight as the band play Alcoholic I’m transported back 19 or so years. Suddenly, I know every word. Every one of them. No really, all of the words. I have no idea where this gift comes from, but it’s a lovely feeling. Maybe Starsailor hold the key to eternal youth or something. I resolve to ask James Walsh about this should I ever bump into him in either of my favourite haunts, Asda Morley, or Sainsbury’s at the White Rose Centre. I’m sure it won’t be long given everybody’s current obsession with panic buying hand sanitizer and beans. See you Wednesday, James.

Starsailor’s set is fantastic. James’ voice is as powerful as ever and the band are wonderfully tight. They streak through some of the classics – Four to The Floor, Poor Misguided Fool and Silence Is Easy sounding particularly good – before ending with a fantastic version of Good Souls.

However, by 9.15, whatever has gone before is, in the nicest way possible, forgotten. For two reasons. One: my middle aged feet are killing. I’ve chosen to wear Converse boots and in return they’ve chosen to make me feel like I’ve got the swollen feet of an ultra marathon runner. I resolve to contact Hush Puppies about producing a special middle-aged gig-goers shoe. Something a little bit trendy, yet above all, comfortable. And featuring Velcro so I we don’t have to bend for too long fussing with laces. My legs hurt as well, and my back doesn’t seem to be enjoying my efforts at dancing along.

Then the house lights go down and the stage lights go into overdrive. There’s dry ice rising at the same rate as the tension. And then, we’re off. It’s Embrace.

The opening three songs – ‘All You Good Good People’, ‘My Weakness Is None of Your Business’ and ‘Come Back to What You Know’ – are amazing, as well as making for a shit-hot Scrabble score. In particular, the opener brings back some particularly simple but happy memories. I’m transported back to living in our first flat in Leeds and hearing someone leaving the pub next door singing the song at the top of their voice and being sat smiling at the fact that there were others who’d fallen in love with this still relatively new band. And, super special middle age bonus time; I also know a lot of the words! ‘All You Good Good People’ always makes me feel like I’m part of something, like I’m one of the people that it’s for. Maybe after all of these years I am. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Despite the sore feet and creaking knees, I’m smiling along, happy to be here.

IMG-20200315-WA0003

In amongst a section of songs from the album ‘Out of Nothing’. ‘Someday’ stands out. It sounds great and like everything in the set tonight, it simply soars. By the time we’re singing along to the line ‘a light is gonna shine, for you and I’ I’m in my own little world and probably screeching at the top of my voice. I might even have my arms stretched up in the air like I’m having a Polyphonic Spree moment. Awkward. I’ve said this in middle age gigging blogs before, but apologies if you read this and realise you were standing near me.

Alongside ‘Someday’ there’s ‘A Glorious Day’ which is another one that brings the memories flooding back, especially here in Leeds, where Embrace’s own mini festival of the same name took place some years back in Millenium Square. We attended both days and then, while watching the DVD of it (remember them old folk?) some months later we noticed a familiar face could be seen repeatedly in the crowd – me! It’s now known in the house as ‘my gig’, often prompting the tired old line of ‘Have you seen Embrace at my gig?’ and is my very own claim to fame, albeit it a pretty poor one!

The pace of things picks up again as the band play ‘Last Gas’ and ‘One Big Family’. During both we’re guided through a bit of a singalong by Danny as we scream out the ba-ba-ba- sections. All of a sudden there’s something of the Bruce Forsyths about him as he motions and mimes to us when it’s ‘our turn’. Little does he know that in my head I’m fulfilling something of a lifelong ambition singing back-ups for the band!

During ‘Higher Sights’ and ‘Retread’ I think I manage to put myself in some kind of trance. It’s possible that this is a middle age thing. It may not actually be a trance, more that it’s just way past my bed time and I’m not used to being out of the house. However, for the sake of the music, let’s call it a trance. Both are songs that I love. Coincidentally and somewhat improbably, given my lack of memory for lyrics, both are songs that I know the words to. Hence the fact that it’s not long before I’m back to screeching at the top of my voice. I may have even closed my eyes for few seconds at one point during ‘Retread’ for the refrain of ‘Will you fight?’ later on in the song. The point is that the gig has reached some kind of peak at this point. This is why we love music, why we follow bands and, in terms of the blog, why we’re still hauling our tired bodies off the settee to go and throw ourselves around in rooms full of like-minded souls in our middle age.

After my trance/impromptu middle aged nap, I find myself checking my watch. I’ve staved off the yawning so far, but my body is telling me that it’s late. More middle age flagging than middle aged gigging. Oh for the days of being a teenager or in my early twenties again when I would leave the gig sweaty and shattered, but then continue on with the evening until the sun was coming up.

IMG-20200315-WA0002

I’m perked up somewhat by the sound of ‘Gravity’. This was the first dance at our wedding and – ridiculous as it sounds – we even invited the band. It genuinely felt like the right thing to do given how much Embrace meant to us. We didn’t think for a second that they’d show up, but having met them we knew that our invite and accompanying letter would at the very least raise a smile. As it turned out the band sent us a congratulations card which was read out at the reception much to our delight. ‘Congratu-fucking-lations’ it said and the person reading out the cards just read it word for word, like Ron Burgundy on the autocue! As ‘Gravity’ begins I wrap my arms around my wife and we sing and dance along together – any excuse for a cuddle! It’s another wonderful moment in yet another wonderful Embrace gig.

And then, Danny says a few sentences that are equal parts thrilling and terrifying to me and probably every other middle aged gig-goer in the room. ‘We haven’t asked this once yet, but we will now. We want you to go mad, jumping up and down for this next one.’ He advises us to settle back down during the verses, like some kind of health advisor who’s all too aware of the creaking joints and aching muscles in front of him. But it’s with some trepidation that we go along with the notion of going mad during the more up tempo section. It’s time for Ashes.

In what is now time-honoured tradition as the song starts Danny leans forward towards the audience and implores us to pogo by waving his arms and shouting ‘Up, up, up, up.’ And up we go.

Brilliantly, I find I can bounce for ages – a boast that I should only really share with toddlers and Tigger, but I’m pretty pleased with myself all the same. As always, the song is immense and the atmosphere in the crowd lifts another few notches. But it’s over all too soon. I resist an ever-growing urge to check my heart rate via my watch and concentrate on applauding the band as they leave the stage, safe in the knowledge that they’ll be back for an encore.

Sure enough, in what seems like no time, Embrace are back. It’s very much a sing-a-long encore ending with ‘Fireworks’ and ‘The Good Will Out’ and ensures that the whole night ends at very much a late forties friendly kind of pace. Even then though, there’s time for one last personal moment of magic. As he walks across the stage towards the end of the final song Danny is eyeing the crowd and giving thumbs ups. As he approaches my section of the audience, I swear I catch his eye and then, almost in slow motion he aims a thumbs up in my direction. In fact, not in ,my direction, more straight at me. My arms are already raised and I give an instinctive thumbs up back, he nods and in the blink of an eye the moment passes. But it was our moment. Even as a middle age gig goer, it’s a thrill.

Shortly afterwards the music stops, the band assemble at the front of the stage and there’s a last bow before they’re gone. Danny, Richard, Mike, Steve and Mickey, thanks. You’ve made an old man very happy indeed for around about the 30th time!

The lengths we go to: A review of ‘A Christmas Carol’ as performed by the English Department (and a Maths teacher) of Thornhill Community Academy

Bob Cratchit’s sideline as a gangsta rapper was clearly of no interest to Scrooge who much preferred grime.

Labelled as ‘Laura’s Ridiculous Idea’ and granted its own Facebook Messenger group in order to get things organised this version of a Christmas classic was always going to be a tall order to pull off. But boy, did they manage it!

Late last year and indeed last decade, following a casual phone conversation, the idea was put to staff that the English Department at Thornhill Community Academy in Dewsbury should attempt to put on a version of Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’. The usual avenue of getting an outside theatre group in had proven far too expensive, but we still wanted our kids to have some sort of theatre experience. In a school that prides itself on doing things our own way and constantly striving to go the extra mile there was nothing else for it. We’d do it ourselves.

A wild idea? Yes. A bridge too far? Well, given that this was the famous ‘Educating Yorkshire’ school, then surely nothing was impossible. Needless to say, following several meetings and conversations as well as a few begging requests for props and costumes on social media, an ensemble cast was put together and a play began to take shape. A script was found, music and scenery arranged and staff put themselves forward for several roles each, some with a great deal more enthusiasm than others *coughs* Mrs Sinclair. (Episode 3 of Educating Yorkshire if the name rings a bell. Believe me, she’d want you to know).

Our production was to be put on twice in one day. A morning performance for the whole of Year 11 – and any staff that could make it along – and then a matinee performance, if you will, for Year 10 during the last hour of a busy day.

By the day of the performances the cast had managed to run through a whole two (count ’em) rehearsals. After all, any English department is a busy one, but let me tell you, the work we do here at TCA takes up an extraordinary amount of time. And thus, rehearsal time was at a premium. However, everyone in the camp – and also a lot of the pupils who would be in attendance – were excited and showing no signs of nerves on the morning of the performance. I say everyone, but personally I was terrified and all I had to do was work backstage and press a button occasionally.

Now although ‘A Christmas Carol’ is quite a serious play it was evident from the time the curtain went up (I mean, we have no curtain, but when writing about theatre, dahling…) it was clear that the objective of the whole cast was to have some yuletide fun. And so, while Scrooge (TV’s Matthew Burton) made his entrance he was roundly, and in an exaggerated fashion, snubbed by those making merry on the stage before we cut skilfully to his counting house – a beautifully prepared couple of desks and a different backdrop.

The pre-Christmas merriment continued as the play went on. The undoubted star of the show, Mrs Sinclair, brought out many a laugh, not least with her portrayal of Scrooge’s charwoman. Bent double, moving like some kind of hunchbacked Mick Jagger and in possession of what can only be described as a hybrid regional accent it was hard to keep a straight face as she asked, “Warm yer bed, sir?” Of course, this was a moment that one wouldn’t find in the novella, but it kind of set the tone for the rest of the action.

Emma, Laura & Bryonny proving that for actors sometimes words just get in the way.

Other highlights would include the whole cast – those on and off-stage – gesturing furiously towards what we’ll laughingly call the mixing desk – in a vain attempt to get our ‘visual technician’ to change the background when Scrooge tried to talk to Marley’s face in a door knocker that hadn’t yet changed to a door knocker from a street scene. Our ‘visual technician’ was me, left in charge of the clicker for a screen with a PowerPoint on. It had taken me mere minutes to relax and enjoy the performance so much that I forgot my job. A little like my role in the school nativity as one of the three wise sheep (probably) about forty years ago when I got so distracted by concentrating for my prompt that I forgot my one line – ‘baaaah’ – entirely.

Personally, I enjoyed watching the sheer glee on the faces of my colleagues every time they took to the stage. I don’t mean that they were grinning like idiots, but their enjoyment of what they were doing was all too obvious. As a very shy bloke I wouldn’t have dared attempt to act and so the brilliance of the performances in front of me was a joy to watch. The play was worth an imaginary admission fee for the ad-libs alone, but the approach of our actors was just brilliant. Another thing to admire about our talented department.

Later, and much to the astonishment of the audience – and the audible delight of Mrs Bell – Mariah Carey showed up at Fezziwig’s party and the English department gave a master class in how not to dance and how to avoid the actual rhythm of the track. As Scrooge watched on accompanied by a ghost that appeared to be wearing a christening gown on her head, Fezziwig’s Christmas party fairly rocked to the sound of ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’. Nearby, the all female section of the cast involved at this juncture did their best dad-dancing and all of a sudden it wasn’t so clear to see why Scrooge missed his days with Fezziwig so much. Sadly my request that ‘Horny’ by Mousse T be playing was rather criminally ignored. I mean, what kind of party doesn’t feature Mousse T? And what kind of adaptation of a Dickens classic is complete without teachers dancing to ‘Horny’? Oh, hang on…

Further highlights included Scrooge talking like a parrot – and apologising for doing so – the appearance of a child’s unicorn in place of a horse and carriage and a veritable cavalcade of accents, none of which seemed appropriate and some of which seemed to morph from region to region as the lines went on. Mrs Stylianou in particular, with her hybrid Welsh/Carribbean/Glaswegian accent, brought a certain mirth to proceedings that made it difficult not to laugh from the sidelines. Well accustomed to her bad accents, this reviewer just shook his head. Getting back to the appearance of the unicorn by the way, I have no doubt that one will also appear in a student’s written response about ‘A Christmas Carol’ in the near future, just as guns and cars are referred to in essays on Romeo and Juliet as a result of the Baz Luhrmann film. Fingers crossed it’s not a GCSE exam response!

As the curtain went down (we still didn’t have an actual curtain) and the players re-appeared to take their bow there was rapturous applause from those in the cheap seats. The assembled staff and students had clearly enjoyed their hour’s entertainment.

There was a special and deserved round of applause for our director, Dr Laura Price (not an actual medical doctor; a fact we have to confirm at our school on an all too regular basis) who had worked ridiculously hard to make this all possible, as well as taking on at least three roles too.

And therein lies the ‘thing’ about my place of work. This play was the epitome of what has become our mantra over the years – work hard, be nice. I’ve worked at schools where staff would gladly put on a show, but all too often these could turn into a vanity project. The staff panto at a previous school, for instance, was clearly always just a chance for the head to feed her ego by playing an overblown villain. This was anything of the sort. The people involved certainly didn’t need any more work. In amongst the planning, teaching, exam marking, after school lessons and other extra curricular work that we do, the thought of putting on a play was indeed a ridiculous idea. But the people that I work with will stop at nothing to help our kids. And so, vanity and in some cases dignity were put to one side, in the name of education and in order to give our pupils an experience that they otherwise would be very unlikely to have (and by that I mean a theatre visit, not just a chance to see their teachers dressed up and messing about). As I said, work hard, be nice.

It’s no exaggeration to say that this show was a triumph. It wasn’t slick or enormously polished, but it was a whole world of fun and I have to say my admiration for the people that I work with, already sky high, went up another few notches. The play was put on a day before the end of quite a brutal half term and yet my colleagues couldn’t have been more enthused about the whole thing. Me? I put the nerves to one side, scaled a flight of stairs off stage and pressed a button occasionally, but heroically.

I fear that the performance will now become an annual thing, meaning I’ll feel the pressure to get out there and perform. But, given what I watched at the end of term in December, I reckon my colleagues would carry me through. And if it’s got me thinking of taking the plunge on stage then it must have been a success.

Sniff the air folks…that’s the smell of a BAFTA!

Related

Related

Related