Tag: review

The Wit of Tom Lehrer: Songs That Endure

I was first introduced to the pastime of Poisoning Pigeons as a student. No, not literally. The idea of a leisurely Sunday sitting in a park dispatching pests that poo on the public has appeal. In reality, I’d never do that. Tom Lehrer’s comic composition[1] was enough. I have a lot of sympathy with the theme of his delightful song. Pigeons are, after all, merely disease spreading flying rats.

Tom Lehrer has left us a legacy of humour, the like of which we may never hear again. It’s so wonderful that his whole catalogue of songs is in the public domain[2] for everyone to enjoy until the day we all go together, when we go. Even I could have a go at a rendition of one of his songs, don’t worry it’s not my highest priority for the day. Beside matching his musicality, speed and timing isn’t within my meagre capacities.

Despite the massive changes that the world has been through since Tom’s pen went to paper a great number of the lyrics remain pertinent. I can sing “Pollution” loudly and think of the water companies in England. Like lambs to the slaughter, they (we) are drinking the water.

I can’t think of rockets, present or past without thinking of Tom’s song about Wernher Von Braun. Expedience seems to be the order of the day in 2025. Once the rockets go up who cares where they come down[3]. I’m sure the song wasn’t written about the Caribbean, but it could have been.

“The Folk Song Army” song is a nice dig at the pompousness of a certain kind of popular liberal musician. Something of our age. Where performance is more important than real action.

Sending up both the classics and the movie industry, “Oedipus Rex[4]” is pure genius. All such ancient stories should have dedicated title song. A complex complex.

Yes, Tom Lehrer was preaching to the converted. His sharp humour doesn’t normally travel across right-wing boundaries where they take themselves hideously seriously. He digs at the ribs of conservatives, tickles liberals and ridicules the absurdities of authorities.

Goodbye Tom Lehrer. Thanks for all the smiles. Thanks for your brilliant comic imagination. A shining star in the firmament.

[1] https://genius.com/Tom-lehrer-poisoning-pigeons-in-the-park-lyrics

[2] https://tomlehrersongs.com/

[3] https://www.wsj.com/video/spacex-starship-explodes-sending-debris-across-caribbean-sky/B828779B-D067-4290-A06D-77F60A6B501D

[4] https://tomlehrersongs.com/oedipus-rex/

Light in Dr Who

I’ve started so I will finish. There’s a good line. Don’t worry I’m not going to write about quiz shows but it’s time for another short review. I have seen the light. Well, switched on the TV.

Flashy clothes, 50s vibe and excruciating way of getting there. The second in this new series of Dr Who twisted and turned around an attempt to get home. There’s a theme. Adventures on the way home. Wonder where that idea came from? An odyssey of a flight in time, one might say.

In a digital age a flip back to an age of film was a nice touch. It’s kind of funny how animation is now so much easier done. Film is becoming a museum artefact. I don’t think it will get the popular revival that vinyl is getting.

Explaining a job like “projectionist” to newer viewers isn’t necessary. Wasn’t done. Takes me back to the small flee pit of my youth and the story of a living Volkswagen Beetle[1]. That’s quite freaky. Jumps in the film, munching crisps in the theatre and sitting in the dark when it was daylight outside.

The sinister and creepy monster turned out to be a being of light. Like a Twilight Zone moment, a menacing cartoon character came to life. Given the various realms through which the doctor travels, this is not unexpected. Good job there was only one of them to defeat.

Beings of light[2] are a popular science fiction theme. They crop up now and then on both good and bad sides. I like the ambiguity. That one entity can flip between good and bad. It wasn’t so much a tale of an evil moonbeam as one of light finding a path to becoming substantial and physical. The dark of night or, in this case, the cinema world turned the mischievous moonlight to the bad side. Only a release back into the bright light of day let it rejoin the sunlight and starlight of the universe.

Plonk in the middle of the show was a breaking of the fourth wall. That boundary between the fictional characters, the Doctor and companion, and the imagined audience at home. Suddenly one was real, and the other was fiction (even though they were both fiction).

After a good haunting the colourful cartoon menace was expelled. Given how easily it got into the cinema in the first place it’s a wonder this story isn’t repeated a million times.

Confusing at times, the suspenseful moments were jarringly technicolour. Sometimes less is more. This was a case of packing too much content into a rapid-fire story.

Having wrapped up a 1950s mystery, the Doctor is back to his time travelling.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbie

[2] https://babylon5.fandom.com/wiki/Vorlon

Laughing Through Politics

Maybe it’s not a new seam to mine. That rock of British popular culture that puts up a mirror to entertain us or even shock us. There’s always a space for the public to be tickled by the absurd or hamming up of clichéd characters. It’s struck me, particularly on rewatching British TV comedy, how what we find humorous is an indicator of how we might think more generally. Or there’s a peculiar connection.

Obviously, it would be good to look at this subject in an objective way. To see what the evidence says. However, it’s almost impossible to separate personal experiences from any general observations. Afterall, I went to school where we endlessly repeated lines from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. This had our poor teachers totally bemused. Long forgotten is the “woody and tinny words” sketch. It only took a teacher to say a woody word and we’d have hysterics.

Not that Python didn’t offer one or two educational opportunities. In imagination, if nothing else. Try “The Man Who Speaks in Anagrams[1]” as an example.

When Mrs Brown’s Boys[2] became popular, I knew we were in serious trouble. I may be a real snob, but this kind of British “comedy” is a throwback to the worst of the 1970s (almost). To me the show has no merit whatsoever. It’s a sop to a grim set of stereotypes.

Jamilla Smith-Joseph’s short article[3] does point out that British culture is one of seeing the funny side of both us Brits and those strange foreigners. Problem is that in a simmering Brexity climate, we find it so much easier to lampoon our nearest neighbours, European foreigners.

I matured from Python to then enthusiastically embrace “The Young Ones” in my anarchic student days[4]. Now, I rewatch the series and the impacts are curious. In so many ways 21st Century Brits have become tame and unadventurous. The sheer destructive energy that let rip on TV screens delighted in upsetting established norms. Now, lots of people are embarrassed by what was called “alternative” comedy at the time.

Then we grew-up and got jobs. Tony Blair came onto the scene. Born out of that period of change was such masterpieces as “The Think of It”. Hope and optimism descended into spin and panic.

Popular culture and politics do connect. Is it a mirror like refection or is it a subconscious trend indicator? Or even a driving force that sustains a current way of thinking?

British popular culture is not going through a creative period. In 2025, there’s not a lot to recommend. Oddly it’s a series that started with a low budget movie from New Zealand that I find is the best comedy of the moment. “What We Do in the Shadow[5]” is variable in places but has horrendously funny moments.

So, come on British writers it’s time to better lampoon the toolmakers son who sits on the fence. One leg here, and one leg there. Labour’s latest adoption of conservative attire is surly worth funny lines. Something original. Maybe even out of this world.

[1] https://youtu.be/Q1sXeUHBHgk

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1819022/?ref_=ttep_ov

[3] https://ukandeu.ac.uk/a-very-british-euroscepticism-the-popular-culture-politics-nexus/

[4] Yes, I really did live in a rundown brick terrace, with a hole in the wall as space for a payphone, and a dodgy builder come landlord. Carpets with slug trails and an icebox as a shower.

[5] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7908628/

Review: The Autobiography of a Cad at Watermill Theatre

I’ve not done it. I’m always tempted. When I see Boris Johnson’s latest book on the shelf, to turn it around. Anything to discourage the good people of this parish from reading it. The picture of his smiling mug on the front of the book is a horrible reminder of the Brexit years. We’re still in them, and I dearly wish we weren’t.

A wasted decade. What for, I ask? It hits me that this is England. A society that is liberal to the core is obsessed with class. We don’t so much have a class system of the Edwardian era but what we have divides people almost as much. Every day the media trades on stereotypes borne of this embedded class perspective. Having lived in another country for over a decade, I can see it perhaps more than most.

We do joke about it. The pages of the satirical magazine Private Eye would have nothing to write about if “class” was truly a thing of the past. Today’s Parliament remains way overrepresented by a certain class of individual. Usually male.

Last night, I went to see “The Autobiography of a Cad.[1]” This is a story of an Edwardian. You might first think that there’s no relation to any politician of our time. It’s a about a man who has one true love – himself. It’s about how, even events as calamitous as WWI, offer him an opportunity to advantage himself usually at the cost of others.

The toff in question is fictitious. The play is a satirical comedy. It’s a highly entertaining evenings romp through the life of a rampaging chancer. Trust, truth and rules are as nothing in the face of his need to get what he wants. A faithful product of English public schools.

The cad is hazardous to anyone in his orbit. He has no idea of the havoc left in his wake. Ensuring others get the blame for his misdemeanours occupies much of his time. You are left wondering if this is instinctive or learnt this at Eton and Oxford.

Edward Percival Fox-Ingleby claims the title of political titan in his own made-up world. Comedy comes from his efforts to create a story of a colossus.

The play starts as it finishes. Fox-Ingleby standing at a lectern in the rain. Now where have we seen that before?

Watching this, with the intimacy of the Watermill theatre, I was in admiration for the three actors on stage. Galloping at the speed they were, throwing props around and transitioning from year to year was astonishing. I’d recommend this play. Best take a cushion. It’s a long romp.

[1] https://www.watermill.org.uk/events/the-autobiography-of-a-cad