Cottage industry

The following post contains strong language, good grammar, perfect punctuation, and a superfluous sub-clause, I have to say! But when the BBC precede a programme with the announcement - or warning - that it includes strong language, the corporation invariably means swearing, what most people call bad language. Strong is used as a euphemism. Broadcasters do not wish to imply, before it has even begun, that the drama on which viewers are about to invest their time may be poorly written! Strong language, taken literally, is more likely to be found in the work of Dickens, Hardy and Shakespeare than it is in the latest BBC or Channel 4 offering set on a housing estate. Yet I consider Dennis Potter to be television’s all-time greatest writer, and he used ‘vulgar’ vocabulary, likely to upset the late Mrs Whitehouse and all like-minded folk, on a fairly frequent basis. Lipstick On Your Collar opens with a character proclaiming, out of sheer boredom with his mundane job at the war office, “Bum-holes! Bum-holes, say I, in the plural!!”. This, no doubt, seemed shocking at the time of its first transmission, although it certainly grabbed your attention, but, now, not many would bat an eyelid. The passage of time has eroded resistance to left-field literary ideas. In the third instalment of Fry’s Planet Word, entitled Uses And Abuses, originally shown on BBC2 on 9th October, Stephen Fry explored the benefits of so-called bad language, finding out from Brian Blessed how swearing can help relieve pain, and discussed, with Armando Iannucci and Omid Djalili, its power in comedy. I, myself, have found that ‘letting rip’ at key moments is certainly a great reliever of stress! And, if you want to read that the wrong way, be my guest!!

There is, perhaps, only one taboo swearword left in broadcasting and that is the word cunt. Fuck has become acceptable despite many still hating it. I can remember the first broadcast, on ITV, of Alien in which Ripley exclaims, “We’ll trap it in the airlock and blow it the fuck into space!”. “The fuck” was edited out as offensive and ultimately unnecessary whereas, these days, the film is shown complete. The original Terminator has Linda Hamilton sweatily cry out, “You’re terminated, motherfucker!”. This doesn’t seem to me to be out of place. The android has come back through time to kill the mother before she gives birth to the future saviour of mankind and is, as it’s about to be crushed into oblivion, as Linda describes and not in the least gratuitous. But, considering the amount of fuss when Jeremy Hunt’s surname was mispronounced recently, on two separate occasions, how will the powers that be treat the Andy Serkis comedy-horror The Cottage when the time arrives for its initial terrestrial transmission? It concerns the attempts of two estranged brothers, after a successful abduction, to ransom a gangster’s daughter, Tracey, played with an enormous amount of enthusiasm by Jennifer Ellison. The problem with the movie, for any potential broadcaster, is that the girl in question has the ultimate potty mouth. She is gagged for a reason! Once the gag is removed everyone under the sun is a fucking cunt. She’s bright but aggressive with it, breaking the nose of one of the brothers with a head-butt for staring at her breasts. Can’t say as I blame him! But Jen seems to relish the opportunity to give it all she’s got, in her best Liverpudlian accent, and some critics have claimed she steals the show. Maybe the movie would’ve been better titled The Curse Of The Cottage!

Adventures of a lifetime

And so the final episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures was transmitted on Tuesday afternoon at 5.15pm on the CBBC channel. Part Two of The Man Who Never Was completed the curtailed run of the Fifth Season. There was talk that the series might continue without its leading lady. It’s happened before. Blake’s 7 survived, after the departure of Gareth Thomas, as did Taggart, on the death of Mark McManus. But the BBC finally took the opportunity to pull the plug. Credit to Russell T Davies, who fought hard to keep the show on air when it was threatened with cancellation earlier in its life. I believe the BBC took some persuading to make the show in the first place. Bringing back a character, popular in the Seventies, to front a programme aimed primarily at twelve to fourteen-year-olds doesn’t seem like an obvious choice! But it seemed to work, though, in real life, one would no doubt question the motives of a sixty-year-old woman hanging out with a bunch of school children, even if some of the children in question did look as though they were in their early twenties themselves! Yasmin Paige, as Maria Jackson, and then Anjli Mohindra, as Rani Chandra, certainly gave the adventures in which they appeared that additional bounce! But The Sarah Jane Adventures belonged to the late Elisabeth Sladen and, in the present economic climate, it is unlikely we shall see its kind again in the foreseeable future.

It’s a shame really. Programmes such as The Sarah Jane Adventures were commonplace once upon a time. Everyone took them for granted. ITV were always trying to create a winning formula with which they could rival Doctor Who in the mid-to-late Sixties and throughout the Seventies. For the most part, they were as successful. The obvious examples are the string, no pun intended, of hugely popular-to-this-day Gerry Anderson puppet series. They began in the Fifties, of course, but took off when Gerry and then-wife Sylvia turned their hands to science fiction. Supercar, Fireball XL5, Stingray, Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet And The Mysterons, Joe 90 and The Secret Service were all hugely exciting. Live action series were equally as popular. Sexton Blake, Freewheelers, Timeslip, Ace Of Wands and The Tomorrow People all left their mark, as did UFO and Space: 1999 when the Andersons put Supermarionation behind them. Peter Davison’s first acting role was in The Tomorrow People, up against the very series he would eventually helm! We’ve seen their like since. The Demon Headmaster and Moondial were two such. Ironically, other than Sarah Jane, the last were Dark Season and Century Falls in the early Nineties, both excellently written by Russell T Davies. Children are being sold short without such fantasy stimulation, and televisual creativity will suffer further because of the demise of this genre!

Strictly Confidential

As the Prime Minister sups on another glass of claret to accompany a not inexpensive joint of roast lamb, and as the rich keep getting richer by not carrying loose change, and while the poorer among us deliberate over whether or not to invest in a six-pack of crisps (cheese and onion flavour), the future of broadcasting is being decided over at the BBC. You might think this a more mundane matter but, despite the country teetering on the brink of financial ruin, the impact of programming on the nation’s health and wellbeing should not be underestimated. My father has been trying to persuade me to indulge in a more modern television, one that doesn’t drift out of tune five minutes into a programme and every few minutes thereafter, one that actually comes complete with a SCART socket! He’s even offered to purchase the thing for me. My thoughts, however, have been leaning towards chucking the old set out and not bothering to replace it. Why, you might be inclined to ask? The answer is simple. Quality drama is in decline. We’ve been told the 20% cuts, to be implemented by the BBC between now and 2017, will hardly be noticed. Unless you’re a totally casual viewer, this simply isn’t true. I’ve been noticing it all year, even prior to the recent announcement, and the axing of BBC Three’s Doctor Who Confidential, at the end of last month, is not an inducement to my continued support.

Added to the demise of Confidential is the knowledge that Doctor Who itself will not be returning until the Autumn of next year. The next series will again be split in two so that the second half will not actually see the light of day until the Spring of 2013. In other words, one series spread over two years. And, all this as the programme approaches its Fiftieth Anniversary in November 2013. Presumably, this will mean next year’s Christmas Special is sandwiched between the two halves of the Seventh Series. All in all, the proposed schedule means less new content than was broadcast over 2008 and 2009 when the Fourth Series was followed by a handful of specials. Doctor Who fans should’ve got rid of their television sets back in 1989 when the show was quietly cancelled following the furore of four years earlier. The resulting accumulative-reduction in license income would’ve forced the BBC to rethink their strategy and reinstate the programme forthwith. Thus, consequently, there would not have been a sixteen-year hiatus. Then, perhaps, the series might still be more like it used to be! Money is tight, I know, unless you’re a politician or banker, but you can rest assured that Strictly Come Dancing will return year after year, budget intact, regular as clockwork, to appease all upstanding simpletons! The only Come Dancing I want to hear is by The Kinks!!

Inspecting Wexford

When Doctor Who finished in 1989, the series of serials that replaced it in my affections was a TVS production called The Ruth Rendell Mysteries. At the centre of these psychological whodunits was a grumpy, weatherworn copper called Chief Inspector Wexford. He was played with tremendous subtlety by a brilliant character actor, mixing tenderness with anger, sympathy with outrage, and I received the news of George Baker’s passing with great sadness. Wexford was a more open-minded policeman than his moralising sidekick, Mike Burden, though Christopher Ravenscroft gave an equally valid performance and the chemistry between the pair was electric. For me, while Jeremy Brett was the quintessential Sherlock Holmes, George Baker was the archetypal modern-day bobby. While not wishing to take anything from the late, great John Thaw’s superlative portrayal of Inspector Morse or Roy Marsden’s thoughtful take on Commander Adam Dalgliesh, the detective holding the greatest appeal was George Baker’s Reg Wexford.

Part of the attraction of The Ruth Rendell Mysteries lay in its format. Each series consisted of several self-contained stories invariably told over multiple episodes. Towards the end of its run, Wexford adopted the Morse structure of imparting a narrative in a single 103-minute film, to a certain degree, and perhaps these were less successful, creatively speaking. But, for the majority of its life, the chosen construct consisted of 51-minute episodes, unravelling its multiplicity of puzzles over two, three or occasionally four-part adventures. In that respect, it became a natural successor to the Time Lord’s escapades, while Cracker adopted the same strategy subsequently. Brian Bennett’s terrific theme tune must, surely, also be a contributing factor to the programme’s immeasurable success.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t in on the magic from the very beginning! I missed, and still haven’t seen to this day, the first television adaptation of a Ruth Rendell Inspector Wexford novel. Entitled Wolf To The Slaughter, it was told over four parts. I believe it was transmitted earlier in the day than subsequent stories. I picked up on the series from the second serial, A Guilty Thing Surprised, related in three episodes and guest starring Michael Jayston and Nigel Terry, and never missed a single broadcast thereafter. I’m not sure why Wolf To The Slaughter has never been repeated on ITV3, or released on VHS or DVD? The other stories have seen the light of day since their initial broadcasts, although ITV now seem to own only the rights to screen the last three tales, Simisola, Road Rage and Harm Done. My favourites include Kissing The Gunner’s Daughter, a four-part investigation into multiple murder which concluded the final series; The Mouse In The Corner, a two-part discourse concerning the abuse of a spouse; but, best of all, An Unkindness Of Ravens, detailing nasty goings-on amongst a female collective and featuring the gorgeous Imogen Boorman (Hellbound: Hellraiser 2, Casualty) as a murderous schoolgirl!

Although Wexford was probably his most famous role, Baker’s repertoire included comedy, drama, soap operas and science fiction over a remarkable six decades. In the mid-Sixties, he appeared in Dennis Potter’s Alice opposite Deborah Watling, before she became my favourite Doctor Who companion! He guest-starred in Doctor Who himself, alongside his namesake Tom Baker, and, between those two, in the first series of the original version of Survivors. He played Number Two in the first episode of the original version of The Prisoner, then shared screen time with John Hurt, Derek Jacobi and Brian Blessed in I, Claudius. On the big screen, amongst numerous roles, he featured in three of the James Bond series, firstly You Only Live Twice (1967), then On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969) and latterly The Spy Who Loved Me (1977). But, the film most are likely to recall is The Dam Busters (1955). George died yesterday of pneumonia, aged 80, having recently suffered a stroke. He will be remembered as a meticulous man, always smartly presented, who, interestingly, retained a record of all those with whom he worked, both in front of and behind the camera. He met his third wife, Louie Ramsay, on the set of The Ruth Rendell Mysteries, ironically cast as on-screen wife Dora. She passed away just seven months ago.

The girl next door?

Rihanna has been in the headlines again this week, prompting discussions as to the suitability of her live shows for those of a young, impressionable age. “She has to push the boundaries,” enlightened ex-Atomic Kitten singer Liz McClarnon, on Monday’s edition of The Wright Stuff! Does she? Is she? Why? Which boundaries are those, Liz? Musically, like most pop stars, she hasn’t a clue. DJ Tony Blackburn disagrees with me, claiming Rihanna to be very talented and with no real need to overtly sexualise her every single action. And these are the boundaries under discussion, social mores. But, even here, she’s not really doing anything that hasn’t been done before, manifold. In my youth, I was keen on a five-piece all-female band from America called The Runaways. They appeared on the scene around the same time as Blondie and I, for one, found them more appealing than Debbie Harry and the guys! I was older though, than the children parents are taking to see Rihanna simulating sex and sing about guys not being able to get it up! But the lead singer of The Runaways, Cherie Currie, dressed equally as provocatively, in a basque, knickers, stockings and suspenders, whilst triumphantly exclaiming, in their debut single Cherry Bomb, she was gonna, “have you, grab you, ’til you’re sore!”

I saw The Runaways live twice, once in Birmingham, in an enormous converted railway shed - the name of which escapes me, and latterly at The Hammersmith Odeon, London. I suppose, in retrospect, the Brummie gig was the more memorable experience. I was right at the front of the stage, with Cherie, who must be about the same age as me, spreading her legs directly in my face with only a small piece of cotton separating her womanhood from my leering eyes… and those of a thousand other young innocents! I also remember vast tables selling paperbacks including American prints of Space: 1999 novelisations, but that’s another music in a different kitchen!! When I saw the band for the second and last time, Miss Currie had departed, for whatever reason, and Joan Jett had taken centre stage. The Queens Of Noize, as they were nicknamed after the title of their second album, perhaps wanted to be taken more seriously. As a four-piece, they were less glam rock and more hard rock. They were in the UK to promote their latest album, Waitin’ For The Night. The lead single, School Days, has the deepest pressing of any in my collection and is probably the loudest piece of vinyl I own! It’s definitely not as loud on the album, despite being exactly the same recording!

Joan is probably better known, now, as the singer of I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll with her band The Blackhearts. This song was covered by Britney Spears. She, herself, caused controversy for dressing up as a schoolgirl in her debut video for Baby, One More Time. About the same time, Russian duo t.A.T.u. were appalling the easily shocked, running around kissing each other wearing only vagina-hugging panties and see-through shirts. Both Lena Katina and Yulia Volkova have since appeared topless in the uncensored promo for White Robe. Lena takes off her knickers, too, so maybe Rihanna still has some way to go in pushing those social boundaries. Lena’s not the first. I recall a member of L7 pulling her trousers down during a performance on Channel 4’s The Word and giving us all a glimpse of her pubic hair. Can’t remember what the song was! As for lyrics, pop records have always been predominantly about sex. Gary Glitter was chanting Do Ya Wanna Touch Me?, which Joan Jett has covered, back in the early Seventies and bragging he was “the man who put the bang in gang”, so why his later activities came as any surprise is beyond me! And so the debate goes on, with Rihanna the latest in a long line advocating promiscuity of one sort or another but as Mick once put it, “It’s Only Rock ‘N’ Roll… but I like it…”

Country matters!

Whilst the leader of the Labour Party has been pontificating on society’s lack of moral fibre at his Party conference in Liverpool this week, a very different kind of party has been taking place in a muddy barley field near Bangor in Co Down! Pop singer Rihanna has been peeling off her clothes, while filming a music video on a farmer’s land, and he has told her to cover up! Good for him. Someone not afraid to speak his mind, whether rightly or wrongly. Put your tits away, love, ’cos we don’t want to see them in these here parts! It seems to me like a case of Rihanna Ft The Wurzels but is apparently a collaboration between her and DJ Calvin Harris. Who he? The shoot was being staged close to a busy dual carriageway when the ‘star’ stripped to a red bikini after removing a long checked dress. Some reports suggest that the bikini top came off too, not that I’ve read all of them! Imagine how many red-blooded, heterosexual, male drivers are going to be distracted by the sight of a young woman’s knockers, famous or not. Bloody motoring hazard if you ask me!

Alan Graham, the 61-year-old farmer in question, pulled up in his tractor and told floozy Rihanna he found her behaviour inappropriate. Let’s be honest, it takes a pretty self-confidant young woman to cavort, half naked, down amongst the cowpats! She is clearly a bit of an exhibitionist. Her lack of inhibitions is just the latest example of an attitude that has existed, amongst a certain type of person, since time immemorial. The girl is really a prostitute and the ‘music’ merely coincidental. It’s not hardcore sex but the record industry has been chipping away at standards as long as I can remember. No political party is going to do anything about it as long as the revenues keep pouring in. Jessie J has told us, “It’s not about the money” and yet that is precisely all it is about. Pop has far more to do with what is fashionable, of the moment, than having a true desire to contribute to genuine musical culture. The performers claim they are ‘artists’, an expression more pretentious than anything you will find in the world of what is unfortunately named ‘classical’ music.

The sight of Rihanna’s bare breasts became too much for Graham’s Christian beliefs so he politely asked filming to stop. Blimey! First politics, now religion, what is my fluffy Journal coming to?! Anyway, credit where credit is due, the scarlet woman understood where the farmer was coming from and the production ground to a halt. I don’t suppose she gives a toss? The crew will simply relocate and shoot the cleavage - sorry footage - elsewhere. These people have so much money coming out their collective ear holes, it doesn’t matter to them. Alan claimed he’d never heard of Rihanna despite having four children of his own. She’s as big as it gets as far as pop stars are concerned… only Beyonce has a fatter arse! Clearly, he wasn’t interested in dancing under her umbrella! But the incident ended well. The farmer and the cowhand should be friends. He didn’t put her over bended knee and spank her bare bottom. They parted company on good terms. I have a back garden which, while undoubtedly not as big as Mr Graham’s acres, I’m only too happy to rent out!

Holly’s humongous hooters!

Lest there be any misunderstanding, I am of course referring in my post title to the inordinate amount of maternity leave taken recently by Holly Willoughby from ITV1’s flagship weekday magazine programme This Morning. I mean, what a hoot! You’ve got to hand it to her… the sheer audacity of the woman. She managed to conceive the child so that her time off ‘work’, post childbirth, would run straight into her summer break. Talk about having it made. And, presumably, all the time she would be on a retainer. How else can you account for the fact that, every show, she looks as though she’s stepped straight from a clothing catalogue? Every edition, a different outfit - each designed to show off her assets! If only all mothers had the luxury of being paid to bring up a family on money that’s ostensibly for presenting a television series. I’m sure there isn’t a person in the world who wouldn’t love a similar, all-expenses-paid, protracted holiday!

Holly Willoughby isn’t the first television ‘personality’ to hustle herself some extended paid leave. Natasha Kaplinsky pulled the same trick on Channel 5. No sooner had she acquired the plum position of presenting the early evening news than she, too, took maternity leave. Following her return to work, she ‘fell’ pregnant again and needed more time away. After delivering her second child, she quit her post as the station’s news anchor having presented hardly anything while on the job, so to speak! And, now, Jenni Falconer’s at it! This onetime GMTV presenter filled in on This Morning for Willobooby, as idiot Keith Lemon refers to her (I wonder what’s the key to Holly’s success?!), during her time out. I imagine Falconer will also return, in her case to the BBC’s lottery-presenting game - once the services of a nanny have been acquired. I recommend Alan Sugar, or at least someone with similar inclinations, head one or other of these broadcasting corporations in order to stamp out the abuse of such privileges! Ask these women, before they’re offered a prestigious post in live media, if they intend having a family.

And what are Holly’s qualifications to front This Morning anyway, pregnant or otherwise? Like her co-presenter, Phillip Schofield, she started out in children’s television. Nothing wrong with that except it doesn’t necessarily make you a serious journalist! Some of the subjects that arise on the programme make her unsuitable for the job. She can deal with the fluff alright. She’s in her element discussing all the latest soap updates or X Factor shite. But when it comes to dealing with serious stories like serial killer Fred West or interviewing nurse Rebecca Leighton in connection with saline poisoning, Holly hardly says boo to a goose. Schofield isn’t much better, to be honest, desperately attempting a grim expression while Booby checks to see if her tits are still there! There’s almost a sense of relief when the programme repeats the competition for the umpteenth boring time. Treating the viewer with a considerable degree of respect, to help ‘steal’ the cash required to pay the presenters’ inflated salaries, a question is patronisingly posed for which you might win the princely sum of £25,000 (for the price of a premium rate phone call!)… Who has the biggest breasts on daytime television - is it A) Jeremy Kyle, B) Matthew Wright, or C) Holly Willoughby?

Release Roderick!

You don’t have to have a speech impediment to work at the BBC but it sure-as-hell helps! Replacing the letter r with a w is not necessarily a bad thing though. It’s definitely an attention grabber when done with alliteration. And, if the presenter with the problem delivers the script with boundless enthusiasm, they’ve almost certainly got it made. One such, at the present time, is Dr Lucy Worsley. She’s a diminutive historian who has just completed a three-part BBC Four series entitled Elegance And Decadence: The Age Of The Regency, detailing how British culture was transformed in the early 19th century. We’ve learnt about Britain’s construction boom, following the defeat of Napoleon, and heard the gossip which led to a backlash against the Prince Regent’s excesses… and all to a soundtrack including The Stranglers’ Nice ‘N’ Sleazy in the second instalment!

But it was the trailer for Elegance And Decadence: The Age Of The Regency which initially caught the attention. It’s not just that said trailer has been played to death but whoever wrote it categorically set out to exploit poor little Lucy’s lisp! Why else would they ask her to say, “Britannia really did rule the waves” knowing it would air again, and again, and again! She’s cute but I suspect she’s a no-nonsense lady who doesn’t suffer fools gladly. A big fan of Jane Austen, Lucy soon put one interviewee in his place, pointing out the camera was still rolling when he started to flirt with her. Then there was the Royal Mail coachman who called her “love” as if she’d just boarded a number sixty-nine bus!

To complement Dr Lucy’s show, BBC Four elected to repeat The Romantics, another three-parter, presented by Peter Ackroyd and detailing the effects of literature on historical movements. Each episode was illustrated liberally with the lyricism of Lord Byron, John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley played by the likes of David Threlfall, a million miles away from Frank Gallagher, and TARDIS incumbent-in-waiting David Tennant. Peter, like Dr Worsley, ‘suffers’ from a speech defect, though, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me saying, I don’t find him as alluring as the lovely Lucy. But he delivers with a great deal of panache, worthy of one of the great romantic poets himself, repeatedly gazing off into the middle distance - not unlike Derek Thompson’s Charlie in numerous episodes of Casualty!

One right, royal, pain in the arse I’m glad to see the back of from the BBC is Jonathan Ross. He’s defected to ITV, claiming he was at the peak of his game when earning six million at the Beeb. What game was that, Wossy? Duping the license payer into watching non-interviews in order to fund a telephone habit? Every time I read anything about him, the article always mentions Andrew Sachs. And, I’ve just mentioned him too! JR’s first show on ITV1 gained ‘respectable’ ratings, though, back in the day, Doctor Who was cancelled for achieving its lowest-ever viewing figures with approximately the same figure, a little over four million. Ross’s numbers can only decline hereon in, especially after the deadly-dull interview in which Formula One driver Lewis Hamilton revealed his girlfriend, ex-MoggyDoll front woman Nicole ScarySinger, squeals especially for him! Whoopee!!

Doll parts

He’s shagged Susan Lynch, stolen a bus (causing pensioners to miss their regular game of bingo!), blown up a house (using its central heating system!!) at precisely 6pm and much, much worse in Cracker… attempted to blow up a London railway terminus, as a terrorist in Spooks… mutinied, then had his back flayed for his trouble, in Hornblower… and, if all that wasn’t enough, he wasn’t a particularly pleasant character in Survivors either… but Andrew Tiernan never short changes the viewer. Andy, as he was credited in this week’s episode of Doctor Who, always turns in a bloody good performance. He played the landlord of a rundown block of flats in Bristol, demanding rent money with the menacing aid of his bruiser-of-a-dog, Bernard! Andy had many of the story’s best lines and moments, bemoaning there was nothing to watch on television except thirty-year-old repeats of Bergerac. Lord knows why he was tuned into Yesterday if he was after the boxing! He brilliantly got sucked into his mangy old carpet much to the total disinterest of his pet but, best of all, was his transformation into one of the demon dolls! Possibly the finest use of special effects since Richard Wilson grew a gasmask in the first series.

Then there was Daniel Mays, whose career continues to be in the ascendancy. ITV3 have been running the 2007 movie Atonement, in which he co-stars with James McAvoy, a romantic drama where a man is accused of a rape he didn’t commit. More recently, Daniel attempted to sort out Gene Hunt’s nick, not the easiest task you can imagine, in the third-and-final series of Ashes To Ashes before being banished to the outer reaches of the solar system in Survivors-style drama Outcasts. In Doctor Who he played Alex, father to a little boy, George, unsure how to connect with his son’s phobia of the dark - when all the scary things come out to play. Boy George turned out not only to be adopted but also alien, living his life in fear of rejection. The coming together of father and child, at the story’s climax, was a pure Railway Children moment, and all the more moving for that! If you’re going to “borrow” then do it from the best!!

And the man who wrote Night Terrors, which may well turn out to be this year’s finest episode of Doctor Who… well, all his previous scripts have been set in the past whereas his latest is set in the present day. He tackled Dickens in The Unquiet Dead, when the novelist was in the last year of his life and about to embark on The Mystery Of Edwin Drood, while Christopher Eccleston was The Doctor… bullying in The Idiot’s Lantern, set during the Queen’s Coronation in 1953, was his next choice of subject after David Tennant had taken over the role… and, after a few years away from writing for Doctor Who, he returned to the fold, last year, to pen Victory Of The Daleks, in which the pepper pots from Skaro were outgunned by Matt Smith, with a great deal of help from the forces and spitfires assembled by a certain PM Winston Churchill. I’m talking about Mark Gatiss, author of all three, whose latest (fourth) instalment of everyone’s favourite science fiction series also included the death of a dear, little old lady by multiple black bin bags! Maybe it was because she looked like Patricia Hayes whilst sounding like Frank Spencer?! When Steven Moffat relinquishes his post as show runner, and assuming he wants the responsibility of the top job, surely Mark is his natural successor.

Fox on the box

Actress Emilia Fox comes from a famous theatrical dynasty, but just how far back do her family’s acting roots go, and what was the scandal involving one of her ancestors in the 19th century? You can find out in tonight’s fifth episode of Who Do You Think You Are? beginning at 9pm on BBC One. She also discovers her great-great-grandfather Samson came up with an important invention in the 19th century. Born into an impoverished family, he began work at a Leeds textile mill at the age of eight, and went on to become one of the richest men of his time.

Meanwhile, there’s no getting away from Emilia’s relatives on the telly! Not that you’d want to as they’re all very well accomplished. Her dad, Edward, is probably best known for his role in Edward And Mrs Simpson and for attempting to assassinate French President de Gaulle in The Day Of The Jackal. Edward’s brother James made a terrific start to his acting career, appearing opposite Rolling Stone Mick Jagger in Nic Roeg’s seminal gangster flick Performance. I also remember James in a 1983 Film On Four written by Stephen Poliakoff and directed by Charles Sturridge, co-starring Bill Oddie’s daughter Kate Hardie, entitled Runners.

Emilia’s mum is Joanna David and you may have seen her helping the war effort in Yesterday’s repeats of Colditz or as a suspect in A Touch Of Frost opposite David Jason. Joanna was John Thaw’s long-lost love in my favourite Inspector Morse episode Dead On Time. Both mother and daughter were in Andrew Davies’ adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Emilia playing Colin Firth’s fragile and wronged sister. Near the beginning of her career, Emilia won the title role in ITV’s version of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca, gaining experience from Charles Dance, Diana Rigg and Faye Dunaway. More recently, she appeared in a Christmas version of Dickens’ David Copperfield with Bob Hoskins leading a galaxy of stars, again for the BBC, but her name is now synonymous with the forensic-pathology detective-drama series Silent Witness.

As Edward’s daughter has reached the pinnacle of the acting profession, so has James’ son Laurence. While Laurence’s aunt has guest-starred in Morse, he is a regular in spin-off series Lewis, playing the sergeant-turned-inspector’s intellectual sidekick Hathaway. And, of course, Billie Piper has married into the family becoming Laurence’s wife after meeting whilst touring a play together. I’m sure we all know the name of the series for which she’s most famous! Secret Diary Of A… no, not that one!! Anyway, they have a young son together, Winston, and the chances of him becoming an actor, I’d say, are pretty high.