Doctor Who, Series V, Episode IV: Stone Cold Tedium.

DOCTOR WHO
'The Time of Angels'
24/04/2010
BBC One

The day will come when ‘Whostorians" will note the weird parallels between Nu Who and New Labour. Both re-launched what were seen as naff, worn-out franchises, both to great success but at the cost of their original values. Both also saw a single figure raised to almost idolatrous heights – be it Tony Blair or Russell T. Davies – who then plummeted to earth when ego and hubris brought spectacular nemesis.

The pub bores will no doubt swill many a pint over David Tennant too. Charismatic, young and the object of almost hysterical devotion, he – like Blair – jumped before an over-rated Scotsman finally took over and ran everything into the ground. True, one can stretch the idea too far: unlike Blair, Tennant is still loved, and certainly deserves some if not all of that adulation. And it was RTD who wrote ‘Torchwood: Children of Earth’, as scathing a satire of the New Labour years as you could hope for.

But still, the parallels are… eerie. Not least because Peter Capaldi keeps turning up both in the Whoniverse and as a thinly veiled Alastair Campbell. Or how 70s feminista Sarah Jane Smith was reborn as a sort of Blair Babe, a mumsy authority figure who sacrificed a family life for a career and an unrequited love for a distant, Christ-like figure.

Even the rise and rise of Who producers BBC Cymru echoes the ascent of a more confident, more assertive post-devolution Wales. Meanwhile, the growing clamour of criticism for Stephen Moffat’s tenure as ‘Show Runner’ echoes the slow rot and decay of the post-1997 political settlement under Gordon Brown. Moffat also shows another Brownish trait. He simply can’t stop living off past glories, whether they be an end to Tory Boom ‘n Bust, ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’, pouring tons of money into public services, ‘The Empty Child’, throwing Nokias at people or ‘Blink’.

For what was last Saturday’s episode, "The Time of Angels", but a trawl through an ever-more tarnished legacy, at the cost of fresh ideas or anything to say? Moffat’s last outing – the two-part "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead – had all his tropes, tricks and eccentric plot devices, as well as recycled dialogue from previous Moff episodes. The net result was a bloated regurgitation of ideas that worked last time but now seemed worn and dated precisely because they relied so much on their own novelty.

This episode features two of Moffat's 'big ideas'. Namely: Mrs. Who, aka Professor Riversong. She's a sort of bastard lovechild of Elric (in that she’s FUCKING DOOMED) and Bernice Summerfield (in that she’s a bit foxy, likes digging things up and spends a lot of off-screen time with the Doctor). Only, this is the point where she hasn't become a Prof yet, is just out of jail and no doubt hasn't married the Doc either, as he keeps flitting in and out of her timeline in a random sort of way. (Not At All Like The Time Traveller's Wife or, indeed, The Girl In The Fireplace, you understand. Oh NOOOOOO...)

The other returning idea (or rehash of old glories if you wish) comes in the form of the Weeping Angels. For those who have not yet seen "Blink", they're those statues that come to life when you're not looking and steal your potential future from you. This time though, they are NEW AND IMPROVED, with the ability to spread through images, including televisions (Not At All Like The Ring!), and steal voices of their victims (Not At All Like The Vashta Narada!), not to mention being able to infect their victims like a sort of virus. (OK, that's quite original, I'll give him that...) Also, they now cut to the chase and just kill you. HOW'S THAT FOR INNOVATION???

There are some other original ideas here though. The concept of clergy-as-squaddies is rather good, not least because it doesn't go down the path of cyber-goth/Warhammer 40,000 pastiche. Yet the tensions between the Doctor and the 'Father' are just a retread of the equally pointless tensions between Richard E. Grant's Doc and Jim Norton's Major Kennet in "Scream of the Shalka", right down to the squabbling over a radio in an underground setting. The only difference being, of course, that you really don't care if the Father dies or not.

The Doctor also gets some decent dialogue too, for once, and starts sounding like a new Doctor rather than a David Tennant tribute. Still, that doesn't last long, and soon Matt Smith reverts to waving his sonic screwdriver about and doing Who 10's hyperactive ferret act. His 'look of surprise' when it's revealed the Angels are out and about is meant to be dramatic but is so overdone it comes across more as accidental self-parody that wouldn't look out of place in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace.

But the highlight is Alex Kingston's performance as Riversong. True, the way she summons the Doctor via a message from the (relative) past was done to death in Blink. But Kingston brings a real crackle and swagger to her cocky and knowing character. In doing so, she gives the episode a sort of depth and soul it otherwise lacks. And yes, there is even more unoriginality when she does a Lara Croft at one point. Yet she is also the most interesting character here because she is both the story's ambivalent protagonist and the one with the most going on under the surface. Her 'husband', meanwhile, seems like more of a cardboard cutout, following her lead and delivering lines that wouldn't be out of place in a bad action film.

Speaking of flat and insipid, Amy Pond remains awful. Her character development in this episode can be summed up as both obnoxious and slappable. But sadly, you know the Angels won't snuff her out, so instead teeth must be gritted as she stumbles around the place like a crap heckler or a particularly unsympathetic damsel in distress. Alas, the Doctor does not leave her to her death. That would have been fun. The rest of the cast may as well not be there.

All in all then we have one more shit-to-lukewarm episode on our hands. Ironically for a Moffat episode, it's the lack of originality that stands out. Beyond all the examples just given, it's plain that the episode's high-tech military force being picked off piecemeal by an extraterrestial foe (with a numerical advantage!) is pretty much Aliens for a teatime audience. And why did that chav twat from The Streets have to make a cameo at the start of the episode? Why oh why? It would have been more fun to see him get abused in a Turkish prison - now that would have been entertaining!

Still, there's always part two, which is next week and - if the preview is anything to go by - has Amy Pond still not getting killed and Matt Smith shouting a lot. Who knows? Who actually fucking cares?

WHOPOINTS 5

Doctor Who, Series V, Episode III: Half-Decent Episode Shocka!

DOCTOR WHO
'Victory of the Daleks'
17/04/2010
BBC One

One must admit to a bit of pre-empting here: Mark Gatiss' episode, "Victory of the Daleks" wasn't as shit as I feared it to be.

In fact, it was all rather good fun if you consider the whole 'Daleks & Churchill & Spitfires in Space'-type vibe. When it's breezing along like this, the episode comes alive mainly because it's having fun and so doesn't really have to deal with small matters like depth and pacing.

Because that is the real problem here: as one critic has already pointed out, the story feels like a two or four-parter Old Who jammed into 42 minutes with all that implies. It rushes along at a great speed and doesn't let the viewer digest each event before leaping on to the next.

The Daleks themselves do benefit from a nice set of touches though, like 'ironsides' painted up in WW2 khaki, and a willingness to make the tea, do filing and be killed because they're not 'dalek' enough. But it still feels more like a new toy line being launched rather than an old threat made new and scary once more. Boring old sods like me will also no doubt observe that their new luridly primary colour scheme echoes that of the 1960s Doctor Who films. At least they're not as 'emo' as the RTD era pepperpots-of-death. But still, there's too much emphasis on what they look like than what they do, which is what they're meant to be about.

Matt Smith's Doctor remains a work in progress. He’s still Tennant-ing at an alarming rate, whilst trying and failing to strike his own note. That said, the scene where he threatens the Daleks with a Jammy Dodger is inspired. Karen Gillan still comes across as Karen Gillan playing Karen Gillan - we don't feel for her character like we should. Yet the fact that she doesn't 'remember' the Daleks (despite their recent antics) is an interesting touch with many intriguing implications. So too is the way that this time the pair actually play an equal part in the resolution rather than one overshadowing the other. (As was the case in the last two benighted episodes.) This isn't ruined too much by yet more cringe-worthy dialogue between the two at the end of the episode (as was the case last week), which nonetheless suggests that the Moff-Beast, as story editor, is developing habits every bit as irritating as RTD’s.

Speaking of which, there is much symbolism here. RTD's era is symbolically blown away alongside with its take on the Daleks by new Daleks belonging very firmly to the Moffat era. Coincidence? Or some weird Oedipal shit that the Moff seems to be working out? Once again there's the 'Scottish' joke/obsession too, which rather makes one yearn for good old Terrance Dicks, who always had the courtesy to leave his hobbyhorses at home and away from the typewriter.

As for the rest of the cast, Ian McNeice's take on Winston Churchill seems alive and believable. While avoiding being that of a mere pastiche, it captures his heroic and human traits alongside the genuine darkness that at times surfaced both in the episode and in reality. The real moral of the story, that the ends do not justify the means (unless you are a Dalek/Nazi), is made all too clear through McNeice’s performance, his Churchill nearly, but not quite, entering seriously dodgy Faustian territory. This is only held back by his grasp on his humanity and his friendship for the Doctor, which is wonderfully depicted.

Bill Paterson's portrayal of Dr. Bracewell, who turns out to be the mere tool of the Daleks in more ways than one, is very effective too, despite how little the script gives him. His character's journey has a genuine poignancy and Paterson makes us feel for him. In a sense it's his character's story - a triumph of humanity vs. the soulless totalitarianism of the Daleks and the real life monsters they represent.

It's a mixed bag, then, that's true. But what stands out is how much fun it all is at times, a sort of gloriously absurd B-movie at teatime with some human drama thrown in for good measure. It's a bit of a shame that it's also trying to do too much with too little, and does feel like a toy commercial at points, but be honest - when's the last time you've had a bit of a laugh with a Dalek episode anyway?


WHOPOINTS 7

Doctor Who, Series V, Episode II: Epic Fail (Whale).

DOCTOR WHO
'The Beast Below'
10/04/2010
BBC One

So the second episode of the Moffat era is here. But is it any better than the lukewarm "11th Hour"? At least it leaps straight into the action, as Who XI and rather mad new companion Amy Pond find themselves on Starship UK. This constitutes the fag-end of Great Britain, carrying what's left of the UK to safety after Solar Flares make the Earth a bit crispy. (Which ties it in nicely with the existing Who chronology, if you remember "The Ark In Space".)

Once there they discover it to be a grim place indeed. Children weep silently, as sinister mechanical overseers called 'smilers' discipline and punish. For there are a few seriously nasty secrets here, not least a Queen whose memory keeps getting wiped. And then there’s a charming scene where the Doc & Amy get caught up in a tidal wave of vomit. Yes, it's wholesome entertainment all round as the Doctor is forced to consider giving someone a quick lobotomy. Yay.

The episode lacks teeth. Both leads (Matt Smith and Karen Gillan) still seem smug and complacent. It’s like they've not quite realised that there’s more to it than just passing the sodding audition. On the other hand, Smith actually tries to de-Tennant the Doc in this one, albeit in a way that suggests Moffat really, REALLY wanted Martin Clunes instead. But the effort seems wasted as he still lapses into Tennant-esque impotent rage for the most part.

In terms of all those de rigeur high concept Moffat ideas, The Smilers are too pretentious to be really scary. But the novel use of glasses full of water placed on the floor (to reveal... well that would be telling) is a great touch. Meanwhile, the conflicts between Doc & Amy are surprisingly free of RTD's old rancour and misery. The truly clever part of the story is where Amy revolts against the Doctor because, paradoxically, she understands he is right.

On the other hand, while the resolution to the 'unresolvable' dilemma is a sound one, it all seems far too hurried and rushed, like a four part Old Who serial jammed into 42 minutes. And while the resolution also means that Amy Pond gets something to do, the Doctor is reduced to a bit player as a result. This somehow doesn't seem right, not least when you consider that the best Doctor-Companion solutions to cosmic problems have always involved equal or at least substantial contributions from both sides. It's always been a show about the poor sods taken along for the ride, but it's never been called Doctor Who for nothing either. In this sense, Moffat gets the balance wrong, perhaps being too keen to establish Amy at the cost of the dynamics between her and the Doc himself.

And of course, some of the dialogue is pretty cheesy, in fact, almost ST: OS-like in levels of pure Stilton. Some of it is painful to remember, let alone quote without cringing.

But the real problem is that the core conceit of the episode - that Starship UK is built on top of a massive Space Whale - is either a blatant rip-off or may as well be. The Space Whale, a benign intergalactic cetacean enslaved and used as a transport sounds eerily like the Acanti, of Marvel Comics fame, who just so happen to also be... benign intergalactic cetaceans enslaved and used as transports. Going back to the Star Trek angle, the Space Whale's secretly maternal and cuddly nature, combined with its ruthless exploitation by ghastly humans, sounds eerily like the Horta from "The Devil in the Dark" episode, so much so that you have to wonder what is really original about this story.

After all, a feisty redhead companion? We've already had Donna Noble. Angry conflicted Doctor wondering why he puts so much effort into protecting all those human bastards? Who III was doing that 40 years ago. Thinly veiled satire on British society? "The Happiness Patrol" wants an apology for all the shit hurled at it over the intervening 23 years.

It doesn't help that Starship UK doesn't seem particularly believable. This is not because of the swish CGI effects, but precisely because it feels like a collection of clichés, Union Jack Kitsch and bric-a-brac on a soundstage rather than a living, breathing place or collection of places, like that hinted at masterfully in "The End of the World". (Which, incidentally, still comes out looking good in comparison after half a decade). That was itself the second episode in a new series with a new Doctor, where the companion's first trip is in the far future, and so, of course, even that's unoriginal, right down to the penultimate shot where Doc and Companion stare wistfully into space after the mayhem is resolved. In that sense, this is less drama and more repetition without end, and doesn't bode well for the rest of the season.

Still, we get to see what Mark Gatiss does to Winston Churchill and the Daleks next week. What could possibly go wrong? Answers on a postcard to...

WHOPOINTS 5/10

Doctor Who, Series V, Episode I: Meh ad excelsis.

DOCTOR WHO
'The Eleventh Hour'
03/04/2010
BBC One

So farewell then, David Tennant. You wowed the crowd though the existential angst was a massive downer and RTD had long passed his sell-by date. 'Look to the future' as your weird two-hearted alter ego might say... And any man who can admit to liking Coldplay and not come across as a total wanker while simultaneously doing Hamlet justice deserves at least some adulation.

And then there was Christopher Ecclestone, whose one series in the role still has a haunting resonance, despite the naff aliens, munchkin Daleks and Captain Bloody Jack.

This leaves us with Doctor Who XI, the curiously shaped Matt Smith, and new turnip-headed showrunner Stephen Moffatt. It's said that the Moff's Nu Who episodes (Blink, The Girl in the Fireplace, Forest of the Dead, The Empty Child etc.) were some of the best, but they all had a tendency to get too caught up in their own cleverness and abandon RTD's never-ending grief-fest for a sort of fetishisation of the Doc which was no more true to the source material than ol' Russell was.

The first episode of this new paradigm thingie is, then, a curate's egg farted out by a conflicted chicken. The annoyances are still there: all the whizz-bangs, overwrought drama, the ADHD-friendly pace aimed at kids (and some adults) with five-second attention spans, the improbable solutions to improbable situations, the wholly unconvincing CGI effects and the inevitable love interest rammed in to keep the morons who actually like soap operas interested too, not to mention the occasional flashes of scenery-chewing melodrama that blighted RTD's work at its worst.

In other ways, what has changed is simply cosmetic. Whilst RTD felt a neurotic urge to keep reminding us that, yes, he was gay and - FUCKING HELL! - there were other homosexuals on the planet (to which a 2005 audience should really have replied - 'who gives a fuck either way'?), so the Moff brings his own neuroses. Yes, he's Scottish, so it is no surprise that the inevitable 'Scotland's Great & England's shit' in-joke is invoked, not to mention a reference to the Jock lust for fried food. It's all horribly self-indulgent attention whoring, like a 14-year-old girl fretting about her weight and insisting on telling everyone about it every 15 seconds. What has been Nu Who's main flaw is its constant self consciousness, which manifests as both a itch that must be scratched and a lazy reliance on its heritage.

Equally cosmetic, if you'll forgive the irony, is Matt Smith as the new Doctor. It's fitting that he spends most of the episode in David Tennant's old costume before donning a new set of clothes that look a bit like... David Tennant's old costume. Obviously every new Doctor must thrash about a bit before they become their own man, but it's telling that whereas poor old Colin Baker nailed it in seconds, Matt Smith still comes across as a sort of tepid tribute act at the end of his first episode, right down to the 'timey-wimey' clichés and the weird Freudian fixation on the Sonic-Screwdriver-As-Magic-Wand schtick.

Of course, much is made of the fact that the Doctor saves the world sans Tardis (which is too busy turning into an expensive and overdone Steampunk pastiche) or the aforementioned screwdriver, like he used to before the BBC started throwing money at its one-time sci-fi Cinderella. But this seems like a drastic over-compensation for over-used tropes, as is the point when XI proclaims loudly that he IS the Doctor mainly for dramatic effect, but in part, one suspects because he hasn't otherwise sealed the deal.

It doesn't help that Matt Smith is faintly insipid. His voice lacks force and his performance is without sparkle or real presence, like there's no real passion for the gig. This is not helped by scripted dialogue that would sound stilted and routine if it wasn't coming out of Tennant's or Ecclestone's mouth, all of which creates an uneasy sense that we've spent the last five years watching a truly monumental turd polishing exercise rather than a decent sci-fi series. Worse, there is nothing remarkable about this Doctor - his costume is staid and unimaginative and his personality is indistinct. Perhaps it doesn't help that Smith's off-stage demeanour is that of a preening, self-satisfied BAPA bollock, right down to the ridiculous 'look-at-me-I'm-an-Ac-TOR' leather trilby he sports when spotted in Confidential, and the lack of personal depth and nuance he brings to the role. Tennant had old man's eyes. Smith does not.

Equally uninspiring is new time tottie Amy Pond, played by an inevitably Scottish Karen Gillan. Leaving aside the absurdity of a little girl growing up alone in a large house with an on-the-run alien criminal hiding in a room she can't notice, whilst somehow retaining a Scots accent AND ending up as a Kissergram (why does the Doctor never travel with any Plain Janes?), she is also far too abrasive and unsympathetic a character. Gillan's performance is also too cold fish and patronising, and there is none of the immediate, easy rapport with the audience that, say, Billy Piper, Freema Agyeman and Catherine Tate - or for that matter, Katy Manning - brought to the table.

Did I mention that the plot has holes you could pilot a battleship through and a cottage hospital setting that is a far-too-blatant retread of 'Spearhead From Space'? (The Doctor even gets his new clothes there a la Pertwee/III. It's surprising he doesn't steal Bessie for good measure, but this being HEAVY HANDED ROARING NU WHO, he settles for a fire engine instead.) Or that the monster (an enormous snake-like shape-shifter with silly teeth, that hangs from the top of the screen like a elephant's penis so they didn't have to put any more thought into its design) is crap?

So are the other aliens - giant eyeballs flying through space in flimsy space ships that look like they were rendered by a 17-year-old graphics student on a knackered Amiga A1200. The big Nu Who delusion seems not to be that it's as good or better than the old series but that its production values are ultimately any better, and in terms of crap monsters, they most plainly aren't. They even had the cheek to feature a montage of the Doctor's past foes, including Sea Devils, who somehow seem start-of-the-art by comparison.

And yet, parts of this episode do actually work. The possibility that Pond is as much psycho stalker as new BFF and groupie is intriguing, but doubtless will be buggered up. Whilst her hapless boyfriend Rory, played with suitably floppy pathos by Arthur Darvill, serves as an effective foil, quite literally Amy's Nurse to Amy's Doctor. His role is no doubt destined to be 'the other woman' in the Doctor's relationship with his new companion, but it would be nice if more was done with an intriguing character. The scene where the Doctor searches his memory (using a gloriously surreal time lapse photography special effect) is inspired, and the plot device of 'the crack' (apparently in a wall, but actually in the fabric of space-time itself) is genuinely ominous. It remains to be seen whether the good bits will outnumber the bad parts to a degree sufficient enough to make it different from the previous four series, but for now perhaps this series deserves just enough rope to hang itself...

...Apart from the pisspoor new rendition of the theme tune, which is in turn overly orchestral to the point of self-parody, has appalling timing and ultimately sounds like Drum 'n Bass meets Ice Cream van. Murray Gold, hang your head in SHAME...

WHOPOINTS 6/10

Brown Love & Brown Hate.

The past 24 hours have revealed a great deal about the country.

Firstly, how easily the media can get suckered by Alistair Campbell and the Labour spin machine. It was, of course, foolish of National Bullying Helpline founder Christine Pratt to stick her head above the parapet. Not only did she breach the confidentiality of those who rang the NBH up, but she also did so without realising how easily she could be smeared, discredited and used as a smokescreen for the real issue - whether Gordon Brown is fit for office.

But then aren't we all compromised? We've all got secrets, connections and circumstances that can be used against us. (Ask Boris Johnson, for example.) Those taking part in the public flaying of Pratt might consider at some point how vulnerable they are in turn. It could happen to anybody - especially when spin doctors are looking for a distraction. This is the psychology of McCarthyism and Witch Hunts, but Christine Pratt should still have paused before acting, if only because it is such a distraction.

That is no excuse, however, for the bullying she has in turn endured. Britain is a nation of bullies, as this blog has pointed out, but in a subconscious way that seems oblivious to the irony of bullying resulting from a story about... bullying.

Still, as Rod Liddle and Brendan O’Neill demonstrate, a nation of bullies must, by necessisity, blame the victims, if only so they can tell them to Grow Up, Suck It In, Pull Themselves Together, Live With It, etc. This seems to be the main problem with exposing Brown as a bully - you get the impression that a large segment of the public sort of agree with bullying, in part because it's always good sense to side with the bully, but also because there is an unspoken loathing of the weak. As Nic Cohen said of the thuggish 'comedy' panel show, Mock The Week:

Similarly, Mock the Week tells me something about the British I would rather not know. It commands an audience of about three million. As I watched, it occurred to me that Britain may well have three million people who would happily go along with the mob if we ever had a government that incited violence against the vulnerable. [SOURCE]

And as AA Gill noted (while pretending that this is only an English rather than a UK-wide trait), even joy and laughter is tainted by this pack sadism:

English humour is the sound of the bullies. The overtold story of the English underdog overcoming the big man with laughter is simply not true. The English constantly use their humour as an indiscriminate bludgeon... The humour of embarrassment and the joy of classroom teasing is a national sport, and its very ubiquity is its open-palmed “What, us?” defence, because at some point everyone suffers for it. Obviously there’s no harm meant. If you beat up only Pakis, you’re a racist, but if you beat up everyone it’s only having a laugh. And anyway, they should be able to take a joke. [SOURCE]

This presumably explains how Brown the Bully is presently being spun as Brown the Victim. If he really were on the skids, there would be no mercy for him, as John Major, Neil Kinnock and Michael Foot's own skewerings demonstrate. And how else to explain tonight's spectacle on Channel 4 News, where lumpenprole grotesque, John Prescott, jowels wobbling away, tried to convince the nation that his party did not have an issue with bullying by, err, trying to shout down Krishnan Guru Murphy and smearing Pratt without her being there to give a response. He could do this because he had an entire political machine behind him, launching a violent counter attack like, well, a bully who's just been shoved back.

But that's not the only factor at play here. There's the herd-like falling in to line of the most insubordinate of lefties, all piling in on Comment Is Free, Harry's Place and Socialist Unity to spread the shit, repeat the spin and generally defend a man they claim to hold in contempt. Why? Because they're scared that the Tories might get in, and individual values mean nothing when there's a turd wearing a red rosette vs. a twat in a blue rosette. This is the origins of every betrayal by the left in this country - a set of strongly espoused beliefs behind which only tribalism and accompanying blood feuds really matter. At least Bob Piper is consistent, one supposes.

The only question now is whether the public will fall for it, as they seem to have fallen for the 'Pity Me!' narrative engineered last weekend, and see Brown the victimiser as instead Brown the victim. Or perhaps he truly has been wounded and so they will swarm around him like sharks, eager for more blood. The fact that The Sun has described Brown as 'The Prime Monster' suggests the latter, whereas the muddled coverage by the BBC suggests the 'narrative' is still up for grabs. Perhaps the matter will die, as the government hopes, or more shit will float to the surface. After all, it wasn't so long ago that Brown was shoving wavering Labour MPs into the 'Yes' lobby during the climax of the ID Card Bill showdown of 2006. The fact remains that Brown's bad behaviour has been common knowledge for a while - it's been in the public domain long enough to suggest that a bastard can stay a bastard just as long as he remains a powerful bastard.

But this all gets in the way of the real question: Are Andrew Rawnsley's allegations true, and if not, why has Brown merely issued denials and not libel wits? That in itself speaks volumes.

In The Brown Stuff.

For those who didn't know, journalist Andrew Rawnsley has just published a book that makes pisspoor Prime Minister Gordon Brown look like an unstable, violent and mentally incompetent nincompoop. Do we really deserve to be lead by a man like this?

...During one rage, while in his official car, Brown clenched his fist in fury after being told some unwelcome news and then thumped the back of the passenger seat with such force that a protection officer sitting in the front flinched with shock. The aide sitting next to Brown, who had just told him the information that provoked the outburst, cowered because he feared "that the prime minister was about to hit him in the face".

Rawnsley writes that "the cream upholstery of the seat-back in front of Brown was flecked with black marks. When having a meltdown the prime minister would habitually stab it with his black marker pen"... [Source]

Whether Brown is a liability is pretty much like asking if being set on fire really hurts. But how can such a man stay in power? Well, like most abusive arseholes, he actually depends on his victims to make excuses for him, to let him off the hook.

According to Rawnsley, O'Donnell was so disturbed by the effect on those in Downing Street that he took it upon himself to try "to calm down frightened duty clerks, badly treated phone operators and other bruised staff by telling them, 'Don't take it personally'". [Source]

Yep, don't take physical assault or mental abuse personally. Tsk, don't you realise you're simply making things worse? Never mind that this is the sort of behaviour that leads to tribunals or criminal prosecutions.

Even Rawnsley himself seems sucked into this bizarre psychology, that leaves the victim both vulnerable and complicit in their own abuse. It's not his fault, he just gets angry sometimes! Why, he can be a good man sometimes..!

However, the book does show the softer side of the prime minister, recounting how he is capable of being incredibly solicitous towards colleagues at times of family emergency and bereavement. [Source]

Yeah, that makes up for manhandling people, throwing phones, being horrible to female staff and acting like a deranged thug. And then there was his single-handed rescue of the world economy which, err, shackled us with even more debt, inflation and unsustainable public expenditure.

In today's serialisation, you can also sample part of the account of the financial crisis during which Gordon Brown displayed some of his positive attributes as a leader. In October 2008, even those cabinet colleagues and civil servants who were otherwise in utter despair about the prime minister were admiring of the boldness and imagination with which he reacted to the crisis by producing a blueprint for saving the financial system which was broadly copied around the world.

One wonders if one should laugh or cry at this point.

Of course, the truth is that Brown, like all abusers, ultimately only has the power others allow him. By making excuses and clinging to the vain myth that this unpleasant, stunted man can actually do anything good rather than spiteful or myopic, we allow him to continue to ruin our country, poison our culture and plunge us ever deeper into penury. Gordon Brown has helped make the Tories electable. What else need be said?

Yet More US School Paranoia.

Remember, spying on teenagers behind a bush or with a pair of binoculours is weird. Whereas, spying on teenagers via school computers is perfectly acceptable. Rememeber, it's for your own good:

A school district in Pennsylvania spied on students through web cameras installed on laptops provided by the district, according to a class action lawsuit filed this week.

Lower Merion school district, in a well-heeled suburb of Philadelphia, provided 2,300 high-school students with Mac laptops last autumn in what its superintendent, Christopher McGinley, described as an effort to establish a "mobile, 21st-century learning environment"...

...The district retained remote control of the built-in webcams installed on the computers – and used them to capture images of the students, according to a lawsuit filed in federal court this week.

The ruse was revealed when Blake Robbins, a student at Harriton high school, was hauled into the assistant principal Lindy Matsko's office, shown a photograph taken on the laptop in his home and disciplined for "improper behaviour"...

...n a letter posted on the school district's website, McGinley said the district had installed on the laptops a security feature that allowed the webcam to photograph the computer operator in the event the laptop is lost or stolen. He said that following the suit's filing, the district disabled the feature amidst a review of technology and privacy policies. He said the feature was activated only to help locate a lost or stolen laptop.

"The district never activated the security feature for any other purpose or in any other manner whatsoever," he wrote. "We regret if this situation has caused any concern or inconvenience among our students and families."

You only get such sincere apologies from people who've been caught out. It does raise a pertinent question though, especially in the CCTV-sodden UK (and London, where you can't scratch your nose without being spotted). Why do we so easily submit to surveillance, even though we don't know who's at the other end? Paranoia makes us vulnerable to the real thing, it seems.

Intolerable Zero Tolerance.

While this blog likes to stay firmly in the UK, and in London, sometimes there is a news story from abroad that compels it to vomit out epic torrents of outrage and bile.

This is one such story.

Alexa Gonzalez, an outgoing 12-year-old who likes to dance and draw, expected a lecture or maybe detention for her doodles earlier this month. Instead, the principal of the Junior High School in Forest Hills, New York, called police, and the seventh-grader was taken across the street to the police precinct.

Alexa's hands were cuffed behind her back, and tears gushed as she was escorted from school in front of teachers and - the worst audience of all for a preadolescent girl - her classmates.

"They put the handcuffs on me, and I couldn't believe it," Alexa recalled. "I didn't want them to see me being handcuffed, thinking I'm a bad person."

Still it's a slippery slope from just scribbling on a desk to going tonto in the canteen with an AK-47, amirite? Alexa, it's obviously for your own good that you're humiliated in front of your classmates and be so traumatised you then spend the next three days "throwing up". America has to make sure its children are safe and don't live in fear!

After all, according to this prize plonker, Zero Tolerance is A Good Thing:

Kenneth Trump, a security expert who founded the National School Safety and Security Services consulting firm, said focusing on security is essential to the safety of other students. He said zero tolerance policies can work if "common sense is applied."

Two things spring to mind. Firstly, there's some weird double think going on if you can honestly combine 'common sense' and 'zero tolerance'in the same sentence. One suggests moderation and nuance, whilst the other signifies extremity and a simple minded black-and-white morality.

Secondly, there's something pretty dodgy about having a URL, as Ken Trump does, like http://www.schoolshootingexpert.com/ - hardly reassuring, is it? It presumes the worst case scenario and suggests you should too. So does having a company named: "National School Safety and Security Services" which offers "school security and emergency preparedness training". And it's not meant to be reassuring, because here we have the commodification of panic, where our darkest fears are sold back to us. Worse, like most products, we are not just being sold the solution but also the problem - we are being convinced to be afraid.

And yet school shootings and other such events make the news precisely because they are so rare, and so newsworthy. The mistake we make with the news and which the news lets us make is to assume the unusual is in fact everyday or ever-more likely. But it's not - you are very unlikely to die in a school shooting in the US, at least if the Center for Disease Control is to be believed. Meanwhile, in the UK, 40% of road deaths are in the 15-25 group (who only have about 12.5% of all driving licences issued). Back in the US, drivers in the 15-24 age bracket consitutute only 14% of the population but account for 30% of all injuries amongst male drivers - in 2008 alone, this amounted to the deaths of 3500 young people, compared to 323 deaths from school shootings between 1992-1997.

One death is always one too many, but where is the outrage for all those who die young and in an RTA? The ugly truth is that while school shootings are exciting, rare and - from a journalistic perspective - 'sexy', deaths in traffic accidents are mundane, everyday, and of little interest (except for those directly effected.) Perverse but true - not all dead teenagers are equal. Such irrationality leads the debate and in doing so distorts our view of it.

This brings us back to Zero Tolerance, which seeks to apply extreme responses to extreme events to the everyday and the typical. It should go without saying that this is absurd, but since when has reason ever counted in debates like this?

The real question we should be having is whether schools are the healthiest environments for children to grow up in, whether leaving our young in a state of perpetual in loco parentis really helps much, or whether a 19th century model of top-down, hierachical learning really is the best way for children to learn. But that's another blogpost, another rant, another day.

Doctor Who: The End of Time - An 'I Can't Be Arsed To Write Much' Review.

Last night's Doctor Who - was it good? Yes, no and maybe - but you're a walking corpse if those last five words didn't break your heart and the Tennant/Cribbins double act didn't leave you in awe. At its best, which I'm happy to say was most of the time, it recaptured the initial magic and excitement of the far too quickly forgotten Eccleston era. It was an end worth mourning.

Anyway, these two very disparate reviews HERE and HERE say pretty much what I was going to write anyway, so read them instead. Let us now prepare to be enthralled or horribly disappointed as Laird Moffat and his Time Toddler begin their reign.