The Life and Times of Vivienne Vyle and The Peter Serafinowicz Show - 4th Oct 2007

The heavily trailed “Thursdays are funny” began with The Life and Times of Vivienne Vyle and Jennifer Saunders as Jeremy Kyle – a morally bankrupt talk show host who baits her violent guests whilst her scripted audience of morons and the unemployed cheer from the stands. Vivienne is herself assaulted (something we are still waiting to befall Jeremy Kyle) and Fern Britten is drafted in to a wonderful cameo. Vivienne has to re-asses her life with the help of her gay husband, her weak-minded therapist and her demented producer. What did work were the darker segments, the miserable nature of working for sensationalist TV – especially for the runners and the background staff. There were also some funny little side-stories – Miranda Richardson’s baby that can only speak Spanish after bonding too much with the nanny, Jennifer Saunder’s Vivienne, pushing 50, desperate for her dead husband’s baby. What doesn’t work is that the entire show is three or four years out of date. We’ve had Jerry Springer for years. Jeremy “human bear baiter” Kyle has become so ludicrous that he is a parody of himself. Fact! What can a comedy show such as this tell us about the nature of barrel scraping, ethically dubious talk shows that we don’t already know?

Following on from Vivienne Vyle was The Peter Serafinowicz Show – even more heavily trailed if that is at all possible. This was billed as a showcase for a “new comedy star” although Peter Serafinowicz has been around for years, acting, performing, and appearing on panel shows. Once again BBC2 seems hopelessly out of step. I was a little apprehensive I have to admit. How many more sketch shows can be thrown at us before we die of fun fatigue – Little Britain, Catherine Tate, Mitchell and Webb. The targets were somewhat obvious – personal injury claims, crap shopping channels, Cillit Bang, but they were largely amusing and thankfully they didn’t dwell on the sketches for too long or return to them too often. I hope to goodness they don’t make a reappearance all series as the thought of another catchphrase spawning show is making me quiver in fear.
Perhaps I am too much of a media obsessed bint to really appreciate the ironic and post-modern take on current TV that both Saunders and Serafinowicz have attempted – none of it is new, none of it is making a statement, or maybe I’m just too thick? The Clone House Big Brother with the interchangeable dull Scouse housemates is fine but I’ve seen it before, I’ve seen it on Google Groups and Digital Spy by mere posters and forumites, not experienced comedy performers. I’ve seen student reviews in the late 1990s doing piss-take skits on cheap plastic earrings that will rot your skin for only £39.99. I did enjoy Pirate Chat “talk to dirty pirates” and Sherlock Holmes who became amorous with Watson whenever he was close to cracking a case. Overall it was a decent thirty minutes and it’s a series I think is worth staying with, if only to ensure there are new sketches each week and no lazily reliance on catchphrases and comfortable characters.

Am I talking rubbish again? Chillywinter@hotmail.co.uk

Holby City - Tuesday 2nd October 2007

It’s been a long time since I watched Holby City. To be honest actually, I haven’t really been an avid or regular watcher, but dipped in very occasionally to see one consultant give birth whilst operating and another consultant suffer a heart attack as another bumped off his wife. Now, I know the NHS can be exciting (well, that is what I tell myself daily to quell the rush of rapidly diminishing brain cells) but please! Yes it is a drama, yes it cannot be entirely realistic but we all know that in reality consultants tend to wander around in patchwork jumpers, bow ties and sleeveless shirts three sizes too small for them – with an ingrained facial expression of disgust tinged with disappointment. We all know there are few female consultants, at least not ones who don’t spend their time yanking out wombs re-starting the heartbeats of early babies, but Holby can dispense with this. And does. Often.
Last night Abra, the “maverick” surgeon somehow managed to get Nick the “honest” surgeon on board to his illegal and deeply unethical ship-poor-kids-from-Africa-and-use-NHS-resources-to-mend-them-scheme. Only the kid they ended up with was a child soldier from Liberia who enjoyed torturing and killing opposing gang members. With him he brought Abra’s long-lost and unpleasant father, a sort of mercenary arms dealer with an exaggerated panto-style face. Somewhere entangled in this was an on-going and - let’s be frank - tedious battle between a po-faced wooden posh boy Registrar and a hard-faced, two-dimensional, old bag Registrar who accused him of stealing her ring – when it was stolen by an equally wooden ward sister out of revenge. I think they dealt with a patient at some point, but I cannot be certain.
Abra, with the standard conflicting emotions, mended the child, thought he had successfully concealed his father’s identity and was ready to move the scheme on only his hard-drinking nurse girlfriend, Kyla, had been listening to his father’s home truths and ended her shift by slapping him in the face. Posh boy doc gave the stolen ring to a dying man and hard faced doc sped off on her motorbike (a bitch needs a bike!) Holby City is not a show you can dip in and out of. It requires a bit of commitment so, in that respect, will never be quite as easy and everlasting as Casualty which has never let continuity be its guide. I can’t say I was gripped by the illegal surgery plot or the “who stole my ring” story, but I may well tune in next week, just to see if any other dimensions can be added.

Still love Holby? Want more stories about the ring? Chillywinter@hotmail.co.uk