-Pretty much a consensus that Christmas TV was worse than usual this year, saved for me by gratefully receiving DVDs of HBO's finest (Generation Kill, The Corner, Recount) to keep me ploughing on with life into 2010.
-2009 was the year that I realised that Jeremy Vine poisons anything he lays his hands on with Daily Mail-itis, turning his Radio 2 slot into a right wing polemic, having already driven the once fine investigative television programme Panorama into a sensationalist tabloid travesty.
-2009 was also the year that I realised I couldn't stand (even detested), those that can't spell, can't differentiate between 'your' and 'you're', 'to' and 'too' and 'of' and 'off', and the boring mass of the (young, although not exclusively) British population who are obsessed with drinking, shouting, ignorance and little else. I've entered my old life crisis at 21. -Quote of the week '(Sarah Palin) would like Avatar: its depiction of "the noble savages" is, no doubt, a well intended argument against the destruction of rain forests, but add in a couple of orange brush strokes and you have a Gauguin painting. It is patronising, simplistic and offensive, like Palin and fake science.' -Hadley Freeman, G2 -30.12.2009
-Picture of the decade
A Palestinian boy being teased with toy guns. A picture that had me disturbed for some time, and neatly encapsulates our new era of terror. Happy New Year.
In Treatment has become an instant television favourite of mine in the two weeks I have been watching it.
It's one of a few select programmes that is both so emotionally involving and moving that you feel somehow a more rounded human being for having watched it.
And because it feels such a personal discovery given that it is relatively unknown, part of you wants to keep it that way, and not let the masses hear about it or see it.
However the acting and writing is too perfectly judged, meaning that you are seriously denying yourself if you never allow yourself to become engrossed in the programme.
Gabriel Byrne plays a therapist with a life that appears to be being dramatically shaped by a select few of his patients, whose weekly visits map the course of the series.
That's all the background I feel necessary to give to you, you can discover the rest for yourself.
The first season is currently showing on Sky Arts at the moment, with a UK DVD boxset due to arrive early next year. If you can get hold of an import copy in advance however, I'd recommend you do so. It really is worth investigating.
Deadliest Catch is oddly compelling television, given the subject is crab fishing. This is primarily because the setting is, as the programme reminds us every episode 'the vast Bering Sea', known for its cold stormy waters. And the work itself is tiring even to watch, physically demanding, and very dangerous.
There is no doubt there is a substantial amount of post-editing that goes on, as with most modern shows. You will for instance hear the same audio every other episode dubbed over new shots, but the tactical decisions, mechanical issues and daring sea rescues make up for that.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't The Sopranos of the sea, but it is cleverly made television that, for a reality show at least, remains fairly minimalist.
Irritating adverts
Yet more of those twatting adverts featuring arrogant little shites 'getting a band together' via facebook and other self-adulation sites are sprouting up all over the place.
What worries me most are the people you see in the background of these adverts, who are, I am hoping, extras brought in en-masse for the purpose of shooting the ad.
Terrifyingly though, many look as if they are general passers by who have been taken in so easily and readily by the shiny promise of minor X-factor style fame. This doesn't bode well for our political future, as if a bunch of fascists in a van turned up at this location, these people would be the first ones dancing over; jumping, smiling and waving their arms around like cretins.
For a balanced argument, here is how to do an advert properly; clever design, great Sigur Ros-esque music, and a simple premise:
Masterchefery
The judge from Masterchef (one of two, I'm not looking his name up) currently doing stilted Iplayer trailers, has a strangely distracting head shape. When viewed from the front, it raises unexpectedly in steps, like sections of pavement that you scuff your feet noisily and embarrassingly along the surface of, having turned out to be higher than you had initially judged them.
In terms of weird skull geometry he remains behind the never-ending forehead that is Evan Davies, but solidly ahead of the famed rotundity of Karl Pilkington's.
We are fast approaching Christmas again, which is obviously for many a fantastic occasion, but for me is largely ruined by one word; Asda.
Having worked there for slightly too long now, the Christmas period is the one that fills me the most with dread, because the negative aspects of the job are largely ten times more evident during this period; customers complaining, being unable to move down aisles to do the job due to the sheer number of people, customers who leave their trolleys at 90 degree angles to the shelving, people asking for things that have labels on saying 'we are out of this product'. The list goes on indefinitely.
This is often compounded by endless shifts, freezing temperatures and constant weariness.
I will say though, that occasionally blitz spirit amongst colleagues at this time of year is enough to make up for it. We go through the hell together, spew our bile over lunch breaks, and brave the cold 7am starts in unison.
So for you out there who hate the process of going to the supermarket over Christmas time, spare us a thought. Try and treat us with a little more respect this time around. You never know, we might not deliberately send you to the other end of the store looking for goose fat as punishment.
FA Cup
I am generally left pretty uninspired by the FA Cup these days. The constant barrage of clichés and generally dull insipid games has worn me down. This is not helped by Sunderland's pretty dire displays in the competition over recent years, but the competition feels pretty lifeless to me in its current state.
I vote that we shake it up a bit. For starters, using the method of organising the Dutch Cup ties, force the higher ranked side to play away from home, so the smaller clubs get not only an advantage, but also valuable money from gate receipts.
Secondly, how about seeding the draw so we avoid the dreaded all Premier League ties? I refuse to get excited about seeing West Ham play Arsenal when they meet twice a year anyway in games that both would probably consider more important.
Both of these elements would make for more inspiring ties, instead of having to generate false excitement over the largely falsified 'magic of the Cup' nonsense that we hear every year.
Sunday Night Football
Another cracking late finish last night to Sunday Night Football, with the Ravens beating the Steelers on an overtime field goal. Watching the Steelers lose is always great, but the nature of the last frenetic minutes of regulation time, where penalties moved the ball back and forth as if the turf was being tilted on a seesaw was gripping viewing. If you could stay up until 5am that is, which I just about managed.
The Vikings moved to 10-1 by comfortably beating division rivals Chicago in the Metrodome. I am certainly not one to count their chickens before they've hatched, but I can smell playoff football in the air, and that has me greatly excited.
Robert Webb
And last but not least, on a completely random note, I watched the Robert Webb 'My life in verse' episode reasonably recently on the recommendation of a friend. It was great viewing, as this following clip will hopefully demonstrate, and showed a darker side to Webb than many fans of the brilliant Peep Show will recognise. Unfortunately it is no longer available on iplayer, so this poor quality video will have to attempt to do justice to a high quality programme:
I was preparing to write up an even more savage review this time around, but Saturday's episode brought me slightly back into a more favourable standpoint with the programme.
The show has fundamentally changed, and it is perhaps no longer wise to compare it to the first series and subsequent specials. It is now a comedy loosely hanging on to threads of being a plausible government satire, whereas the earlier episodes had the feel of a documentary set inside the corridors of power that happened to be unwittingly hilarious.
The most obvious example of this are the two central characters, the minister Nicola Murray, and Malcolm Tucker. Murray panics in an hysterical and not particularly amusing way whenever the inevitable disastrous event of the episode occurs, completely the opposite of the awkward shuffle and smile of her predecessor Hugh Abbott.
Meanwhile, Tucker's reputation precedes him. His character is now laughably one-dimensional, a swearing super computer fired into the plot at random moments when the pace is flagging. It wouldn't feel inappropriate to have a laughter track after Tucker's rants, as it feels as if this is the way the show is headed increasingly frequently.
However despite this, the show does still make for compelling watching. So whilst I am sad that the potential of the premise of the original concept, a serious political satire that was built around dark humour is now lost to us, the more mainstreamed comedy we are left with is still of high quality.
The last episode set within the confines of BBC Radio 5 Live was scripted perfectly, largely because it hinted at the older format, Malcolm's impact was minimised, the radio show was exactly as the real thing plays out (Richard Bacon's 'acting' was impeccable), and all of the events felt as if they could realistically happen in the real world and weren't overly exaggerated.
I'll therefore try to watch the rest of the series with a less critical eye.
Having been an advocate for video replays in football since the idea was first suggested, I always feel slightly angered when something initiates widespread cries from across the sport for it to be used, when these self same papers and commentators have cast doubt in it before.
This happened last night at the Stade de France, with Thierry Henry's handball allowing William Gallas to score a goal that gave France a 2-1 aggregate win in their World Cup playoff against Ireland.
There are simply no reasons for not having video replay in football. The idea that it would slow the pace of the game is nonsense. The video replay in rugby league or American football simply becomes part of the action and drama itself. And it is not as if football is never slowed by constant play acting, cynical time wasting or unnecessary substitutions either.
Those that complain that only the top levels of football would be able to afford to have it used also have no leg to stand on. Hawk-Eye in tennis and cricket may only be used in the big international or domestic tournaments, but it doesn't mean that your local club has to have it, and it certainly doesn't detract from the venue as a result.
Many claim that this controversy is what makes football the great talking point it is, but I would far rather have conversations on the more interesting side of the game; great players and great matches, not on whether a player has cheated to help his team to victory.
Equally there are those old conservative types who say, well if it is introduced, where does it end. Do we replay classically disputed ties, such as Maradona's hand of god game, which is a point so flippant that it hardly bears dealing with.
The problem is however, that it is these old conservative types who are running the game. Look at any sports newspaper today, or any independent football website and try to find one that isn't leading with Henry's handball on the front page. Now look at Fifa's, the world body, and organisation whose competition Henry will be starring in next year:
The story doesn't even make the top articles on the page. When we find a match report, it is not Henry whose name is emblazoned in the headline, but Gallas. Did this handball happen? Did we all imagine it?
Hidden away in the text we find this simple mention:
The story is the same whenever some other similar controversy arises that puts Fifa in a bad light. They simply pretend it hasn't happened.
I have just seen one of my favourite hate figures on television once again, the unbearably cheerful 'Gavin from Autoglass', who has once again reminded me to get that pesky chip in my windscreen seen to before I drive through one of those 40 feet deep craters he seems to encounter on a surprisingly frequent basis on his Barratt Homes Estate road, and shatter it.
Gavin joins the as yet unnamed 'redhead' on a generic mobile phone advert, where, for reasons largely unsaid or non-existent, said redhead feels the need to organise a party for like minded, apparently oppressed redheads in order to feel better about themselves. To do this, they travel to the notoriously tolerant (!) Moscow to celebrate.
And, because it is a redhead party, where other races, creeds and colours are, one imagines, shunned and ignored, the music they choose is, wait for it, Simply Red.
Between casually vomiting out the window and shouting at the television during this advert, I managed to flick the channel over, just in time to see Gavin appear again.
