Reasons to be (un)cheerful: a list of 100 things.

      1.   People getting excited about adverts.
2.     The alarm clock on a Monday.
3.     Broadchurch series 2 being a car crash … in slow motion.
4.     The Victoria episode that consisted of Albert riding a steam train for an hour.
5.     The Girl not changing the toilet roll, then when told about it continues to do it just for a laugh.
6.     The Girl pinging the waistband on my pants, then when told not to do it continues to do it just for a laugh.
7.     The Girl not emptying her Diet Coke cans properly, so when I go to do the recycling I get flotsam and jetsam all over me. Then when told about it continues to …
8.     The Girl forgetting to take the Nectar card shopping then …
9.     Forgetting to take the big bags shopping. I’m meant to be saving for a house, instead I’m pissing 5p up the wall.
10. The very real worry that I don’t make the best cup of tea.
11. My laissez-faire attitude to administration.
12.  Michael Gove, former Education Secretary, saying that people have had enough of experts.
13.  Worrying about myself more than others.
14.  The death of David Bowie.
15.  The death of Caroline Aherne.
16.  The death of Victoria Wood.
17.  The death of (your favourite celebrity).
18.  Bands that don’t put lyrics in their inlay.
19.  Not having enough time to do my job to the best standard.
20.  Feeling sometimes that my career isn’t for me, but then having no idea of what else is.
21.  The house move falling through.
22.  The fact that my laptop is so fucked that only I can operate it.
23.  The goalscoring form of Odion Ighalo.
24.   Daniel Kitson’s obstinacy towards physical release.
25.  Good friends having shit thrown at them.

26.  The toilet in my department always being occupied. I’m supposed to be a receptacle of learning, not a repository of piss.
27.  The amount of ‘Likes’ pictures of The Girl and me get in comparison to the blog I write. (Hours I spend toiling over a comma and then her gorgeous face comes along and renders it all redundant.)
28.  Having to circle the block for a parking space after 9. (A man of my calibre should have a reserved space marked ‘King.’)
29.  Feeling sympathy for The Royal Family after watching The Crown.
30.  Birthday cards being designed by idiots that add a ‘t’ to 'wit.'
31.  Bars putting ice cubes in my drink. I don’t need my water watered down.
32.  My shame in not going on strike this year. (I’ve been on every other teacher strike.)
33.  Despite believing in his politics, Jeremy Corbyn is unelectable.
34.  The British public’s sadomasochistic relationship with the Tory party. Whip me harder, Theresa!
35.  The Boris Johnson joke has gone too far.
36.  The Nigel Farage joke has gone too far.
37.  Donald Trump was never a joke – it had already gone too far when his parents discussed having a baby.
38.  The picture of Farage and Trump in a lift. Political hope: going down.
39.  The Tories moaning about the validity of union elections, despite their own leader being chosen in a cakewalk.
40.  Having a two day hangover after an hour on the lash.
41.  The continued presence of Greg Wallace.
42.  The ubiquity of Beverly Knight.
43.  The omnipresence of superhero films.
44.  The arm and the leg it costs to go to Vue cinema.
45.  I should be writing something more substantial but I don’t have the motivation to do so.
46.  The fact No, I can’t is my political slogan.
47.  The way I treat books as something to be completed rather than a thing to be enjoyed.
48.  Only listening to celebrities on Desert Island Discs, ignoring the charity worker ones because I’ve never heard of them.
49.  Not drinking enough during a school day. Keep hydrated kids!
50.  Buying clothes for comfort as opposed to style.

51.  Seeing flecks of grey in my beard.
52.  Not being able to turn my passion inside out.
53.  Being constantly cold.
54.  Feeling like I’m growing apart from people I like, trust and admire.
55.  Preferring silence to small talk. (Sometimes friendships are born out of small talk, so maybe I should be less prejudiced towards it.)
56.  Reading the ‘culture’ and ‘sport’ articles, then checking the news ‘headlines.’
57.  Wishing time away.
58.  Taking the phone to the toilet when I should be bringing a paperback.
59.  Saying ‘the pictures’ and ‘records’ to appear as if I’m above the 21^st century.
60.  Being constantly disappointed with my teaching when in reality I do a fairly decent job most of the time.
61.  Forgetting that other people in other jobs work incredibly hard too.
62.  Not learning my lesson with Booker Prize Winners. (They always disappoint.)
63.  I still haven’t been to the ballet. Watched a documentary on The Nutcracker and it seemed incredible.
64. Not making enough time to listen to music.
65.  Still spending too long on the Internet.
66.  I could offer to help my colleagues more than I do.
67.  Having a curriculum that doesn’t appreciate good books were written after the 19^th century.
68.  Chelsea’s dominance in the Premier League.
69.  The England national team. It’s the hope that will kill me.
70.  Laura Kenny not winning Sports Personality of the Year. 4 gold medals!
71.  America taking one giant leap for mankind - backwards.
72.  People not understanding what ‘refugee’ means.
73.  A corrupt media that punches down.
74.  My hair experiencing years of negative economic growth. Ladies and gentlemen, my hairline is a Great Depression.
75.  People putting their phone before the person sitting next to them.

76.  Letting Shakespeare down when I teach him.
77.  Falling asleep when I would like to read.
78.  Watford always being last on Match of the Day. (This isn’t a Gary Lineker led conspiracy; we often play poorly and deserve the Alan Partridge slot.)
79.  Obama leaving The White House. Whatever your opinion on his Foreign Policy, the man was smart and articulate.
80.  How a controversy can become a storm because of the Internet.
81.  The Beach Boys considering playing Trump’s inauguration.
82.  Rich actors who do adverts. (George Clooney, don’t hide behind your Human Rights lawyer wife. Look at me when I’m talking to you.)
83.  The ‘Breaking Point’ banner.
84.  Adults thinking it’s cute to behave like children.
85.  David Cameron rolling the dice on a game he didn’t stick around to play.
86.  Being in the shape of my life and yet coming 456^th in a 10k run.
87. The Left branding everyone who disagrees with them a racist, which only makes them more likely to be racist.
88.  People who reduce difficult political situations into a pithy sentence.
89.  Being inept with practical tasks despite wanting to be good at them.
90.  Kanye West making it hard for me to defend him.
91.  Morrissey making it hard for me to defend him.
92.  Ore winning Strictly. (He never danced in his life. Not at a disco. Not at a wedding. Not in front of the mirror to his favourite song. He never danced ever. He never danced, ok.)
93.  Paul Hollywood letting down his comrades.
94.  My puritanical stance on downloading preventing me from watching Westworld, Mid Morning Matters and The Affair.
95.  Looking down on everyone. (This is more of a height thing.)
96.  Not eating as many biscuits as I would like.
97.  Having a manana attitude to running.
98.  Not going to the pub as much as I would like.
99.  Worrying about going back to work during my holidays.
100.                Trump becomes President next month. This does not bode well for 2017.

Bob Monkhouse: The Last Stand

Setting:- June 1996: Blogger’s childhood living room. 

Three members of the family sit on a floral print sofa that wouldn't seem out of place on the back of Kensington-born Laurence Llwellyn Bowen, yet here in Watford, opposite the Mothercare factory, it appears a cushioned atrocity; a garden mounting a home invasion. The oldest child lies in front of the fire like a cat from the cold, roasting bourbon centres into mini chocolate fountains. Neighbours, an Australian daytime soap, has not long ended, finishing on a cliff-hanger so spell-binding that people would be within their rights to phone in sick so they could watch tomorrow’s early edition. (Lou Carpenter went to the doctors; it turned out it was just a common cold.) This is why the channel has stayed on One and the family are watching the news.

(Newsreader)

“And finally light entertainer Bob Monkhouse is appealing for the public to help him retrieve his stolen joke book. Yesterday, thieves broke into television centre and took the ledgers from a locked room. Monkhouse has promised £20,000 for their safe return.”

(Youngest son, who will go on to write a critically-acclaimed blog- if ‘Likes’ aren’t critique then what is?).

“Shouldn’t the public promise £20,000 to ensure it’s unsafe return?”

(Family fall about laughing, unaware that this boy will go on to try his hand at comedy, fail at it, then criticise people on TV without any degree of self-awareness, describing them as ‘unfit to hold his mic stand.)

The joke book was eventually returned to Monkhouse. (This fact doesn't seem like a compliment.)

For me- as a teenager without any sense of history- the only joke that Bob Monkhouse’s book could contain was a picture of the man himself. Experiencing him only on game shows I found him insincere and calculated. With his ironed suit and ironed face, he was the very antithesis of alternative comedy – no spit, all polish. Small talk with quiz show contestants is annoying but necessary: like the fantasy narratives of yore, we want to know the characters on the quest for gold. However in the hands of the light-entertainer it is face-in-a-grater excruciating. Even as a teenager I could see through the artifice of the conversation: the comic asks a question about the person’s job; the comic replies with a pre-prepared punch-line; the audience lap it up like it's the cat’s milk. I wasn’t a fan of Bob Monkhouse.

In 2003 Bob Monkhouse died following a battle with prostate cancer. I remember being surprised at the eulogies that greeted him. Comedians were queuing up to talk about his talent and influence. Is this the same Bob Monkhouse who appeared on BBC’s Wipeout, I thought? The answer was ‘No.’ Monkhouse was more than a quiz show host. At the start of his comedy career, he wrote for British icon, Max Miller, and American giant, Bob Hope. In demand because of his precision with language, Monkhouse was the pen that many voices turned to. For instance, Peter Sellers was annoying audiences with the avant-garde until Monkhouse whispered some stardust into his ears. Simply, Monkhouse was a man that had worked hard to be a comedian so knew the mechanics of it better than anyone else.

King of Quiz Shows.

This Boxing Day BBC4 screened Bob Monkhouse: The Last Stand. Hosted in an everyman pub, it was to be Monkhouse’s final gig. Aware that the end was nigh, Bob put on a performance for comedy friends and industry. This isn’t An Audience With Bob Monkhouse though; the comedians in the 2003 audience aren’t the rich and famous. Yes, David Walliams is there- but pre-fame. So too, Reece Shearsmith- but again League of Gentlemen was hardly mainstream. Rather the invited pack include industry nerds: Have I Got News For You writer, Kevin Day; comedy circuit stalwart, Adam Bloom and sketch comedy master, Fiona Allen.

The gig begins with a twenty-minute stand-up routine. Some of the jokes are a little end-of-pier; however there are some near the knuckle ones which may surprise you. (I’m from Kent… People keep reminding me of that whenever they see me walking down the road.) Perhaps his best offerings are ones on mortality. Last year Tig Notaro received praise for her bruising routine on breast cancer: diagnosed on the day, she stepped out and bared her soul to the audience. Being from an old tradition of joke first, sentiment later, Monkhouse is more glib with his illness, getting a laugh out of ‘faecal impaction’ and life's expiry date. Watching Bob move seamlessly through his one-liners, you can see his influence in Jimmy Carr: both high status comedians- more from the American than British tradition- who use language with a brevity that shows all good comedy is in the edit.

Contributors and the gig itself.

More revelatory though is when the show moves from stand-up into autobiography. Monkhouse opens up in this section of the show about his friendships and rivalries. Here, Benny Hill is re-cast from idiot misogynist into television visionary, seeing the potential for the medium by trialling the split-screen. Peter Sellers, on the other hand, isn’t so favourably spoken of: a man that would take help and not return it seems to be the damning epitaph.

 After this look behind the curtains, Monkhouse brings out a friend from behind it, Mike Yarwood who remains a virtual recluse. Once on Christmas Day, Yarwood’s impressions show got more viewers than Morecambe and Wise. People loved his take on the zeitgeist, gently skewering royals, politicians and entertainers, over a warm satirical fire. Yarwood, however, didn’t move with the times and the alternative comedy boom quickly put pay to his career. Falling into alcoholism and stage fright, he wasn’t able - or willing - to restart his comedy career. Talking with Monkhouse he is naturally funny, doing a more than passable impression of a comedian. Together their conversation is redolent of the kind Stuart Goldsmith’s Comedians Comedian Podcast specialises in, as it shines a torch on the darker sides of comedy.

Yarwood was doing impressions long before your dad.

The talking heads that end the show remind us that Monkhouse had a legacy beyond the quiz show. Despite being handsomely paid for hosting you get the sense that he would have been happier on the circuit with the comedians he cherished. His invitation to the younger generation could be seen as an act of humility- him passing on the baton- but maybe also a bid for approval, that despite the bronze tan and gold watch he could work the coalface too.

All in all, a thought-provoking hour of comedy that shows one man joking against the dying of the light.

Bob Monkhouse: The Last Stand is available on iPlayer.

Lovesick

It was a tough choice this week. Did I go with The Crown, Netflix’s £100 million pound drama, or Lovesick, a modestly produced sitcom? I’m halfway through The Crown and I have to say it’s wonderful. Even as a republican I can see the merit in it. Unlike this year's Victoria, it treats viewers as grown-ups, prioritising drama over romance. Whilst the ITV miniseries suffocated the viewer with an inordinate focus on Victoria and Albert, The Crown, in making Churchill a primary point, sweeps beyond the palace walls to illustrate how elected democracy co-exists with bestowed privilege. Reaching the halfway point of The Crown, I see a show that highlights the burden of monarchy without succumbing to hagiography. It’s a triumph.  

For all of that, this week I have gone with Lovesick. I’ve gone with it because sometimes you just need a show that’s entertaining. For all the good The Crown is for my historical knowledge, it’s not until Edward VIII gets involved that it truly fizzes. With its intense Hans Zimmer score and pitch-perfect acting, it rightfully earns the title Serious Drama; yet for all its worth, I’ve enjoyed something less artful.

Lovesick wasn’t always known by that name- its first series was titled Scrotal Recall. Like the Hollywood sirens of yore, the studio has made an earthy name more palatable – a decision, judging by interest and reviews, that’s paid dividends. It’s easy to see why Scrotal Recall was not the preferred nomenclature: it’s crass and bawdy, signalling lowest common denominator comedy. For all of its negative connotations though, it was perfectly apt: apt because the pun encompasses the premise. Dylan, a twenty-something, is told that he has chlamydia; consequently, he has to inform his ghosts of girlfriend past. The writer Tom Edge has since claimed that the title was at the bottom of a long list, which producers then selected from. Either way Netflix haven’t seen the funny side and have successfully re-branded it. 

In its earlier incarnation.

I have to go on record and say this isn’t the funniest sitcom you’re going to watch. I would, however, argue that this is indicative of the modern sitcom. Where once laughter was the thing; now pathos is. The great comedies of this year, Fleabag and Flowers, have been dark and bleak; characterisation has taken precedence over punchline. For me, this is something I prefer: as much as I love the precision engineered comedy of Fawlty Towers and Dad's Army, I favour ‘dramatic’ comedies. Purists might say that contemporary sitcom writers couldn’t hold a candle to their forbearers - that they wouldn’t know a joke if it knocked on their door twice – for me, good modern writers achieve laughter within verisimilitude; their writing less artificial, arriving at – not chasing – the joke. In all honesty, Lovesick doesn’t have the comedic clout of say Catastrophe, which deals with similar themes and tones; but it’s recognisably funny.

Re-issue, re-package, re-package. (Do you know the lyric?)

If the joke writing is sometimes found wanting, the structure of the show isn’t. In a novel move, Edge has produced a sitcom that bends narrative in a way few dare. Episode 1 opens with Dylan being diagnosed; he then draws up a list of girls that he must contact. On top of the list is Abigail. From there, the show flashes back three years to when they first met. Ostensibly the episode is about Abigail; ingeniously though, Edge manages to interweave Dylan’s friendship with Evie. Over the course of the season, we see within the flashback format Dylan’s girlfriends change with Evie remaining a constant. Impressively, because the time travel eschews chronology, the viewer never settles into a rhythm, meaning you have to do a bit of work to plot a timeline of Dylan’s past.

Edge puts this into his narrative.

It’s worth adding that the tone of the show belies its original title. Yes, it’s a sitcom that deals in sex and relationships, but it’s a far tamer than Channel 4’s Catastrophe. You won’t have to evacuate the living room fearing the C Bomb, nor wash yourself clean after a dirty sex scene. In many ways it’s the younger, more romantic sibling of the brilliantly lewd Catastrophe. A Romeo to its Mercutio, if you will.

At the start of the blog I said I found it hard to choose between The Crown and

Lovesick. Well, since doing some research I’ve found Edge provided additional

material for the royal drama. Edge really is a writer to watch then, a title even

Netflix can’t take away from him.

Lovesick is available on Netflix.