Lucky Col
Dance as though nobody's watching, love like it's never going to hurt

Wednesday, January 02, 2008


Something horrible happened to me on Christmas day.

After finding something not quite half decent to watch on the tele, which was better than everything else pumped out this year, I found myself hearing the long since forgotten 'dum dum dum dum dum de de dum ding ding ding ding ding ding ding' of the Eastenders theme tune. Quick, change the channel, change the channel. Where are the buttons ? Don't know. Everywhere was searched, settee cushions looked under, Christmas bags rifled through, all to no avail. And all the time, the monotonous cockney drone of piss-poor z-list actors leaking from the corner of the room.

I got ten minutes before working out how to change the channel on the box, but by then it was too late. I'd already figured out that some illiterate half-wit had recently got married to a snobby ginge, but was actually knocking off his shaven-headed-that-doesn't-quite-hide-the-fact-that-he's-still-a-ginge dad. And how did the younger lad find out ? By over-hearing some gossip accidentally recorded at a Christmas get-together.

Well f**k me, how original is that then ? Not on a tape found in a car, or over a baby listener, oh no, but video. Woooooooo. What next, one of the characters dies in a car accident ? Or maybe hit on the head, only to die unexpectedly later of a brain-haemorrhage ?

I've long since stopped watching Eastenders. Forced to watch during the 'miracle' of Dirty Den's reappearance and then stopped when he was killed, hit on the head by a dog statue. As opposed to an ash-tray. Why they couldn't have written Leslie Grantham out for going on a chat-room web-cam and slagging off his colleagues or killing a taxi driver I'll never know, but then realism has never been Eastenders strong point.

I've lived in the area covered by the Eastenders map and I can tell you that there isn't the sense of community portrayed, you can't leave your door open and it definitely isn't better when one of Barbara Windsor's friends is running the local interests. The only explanation is that Walford must be an independent country. Think about it, no-tax, less traffic than Sark (which would explain the fatally dangerous jaywalking normally seen at Christmas time) and a 'one-out-one-in' immigration policy UKIP or even the BNP would be proud of.

If you lived on Albert Square, you wouldn't stay there over Christmas, something at least Doctor Who writers are fully aware, and you wouldn't accept an invitation to spend Christmas dinner in the pub. To get away from all the hassle, maybe they should spend Christmas in Chester, a small terrace street in Manchester, or out of the way in a small Yorkshire farming community.


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