The Time Is Here...

So, after the high drama/farce/tragedy/pastoral-comical (delete any you feel are unwarranted, by all means) of the last week, we now know the general election date: the 11^th of March. This is actually very good timing for me, as I should be somewhat free to obsess about the election in this very space. General elections are a strange combination of fodder and entertainment (entertaining fodder?) for me; the last one in Britain, for example, I followed rather obsessively, once remarking to a bemused friend when leaving college how delighted I was to be able to watch the prime ministerial debates that evening.

I note that the country's major news outlets seem to share my enthusiasm; as, I suppose, they should. Not only is this obviously an important topic that should be covered in depth, but this is a big time for them; harvest time, you might say. The news becomes more closely followed, and election junkies such as myself rely on news outlets slavishly. I noticed earlier today that the websites of both The Irish Times and RTÉ have "Election 2011" sections. I like to imagine that these sections were feverishly set up in the moments after the date was set, rather like towards the end of this clip (the part I mean will be immediately obvious). In fact, I have a feeling they've been there since the Dáil reconvened, but that's not quite so entertaining.

Other people are drumming up business from this election too. I noticed while passing through Dublin city centre today that bookmakers Paddy Power have put up posters advertising the odds on different people (Brian Lenihan (33-1), Brian Cowen (20-1), Éamon Gilmore(7-1), Enda Kenny(1-16)) becoming Taoiseach. I was bemused and a little frightened to notice that one of the posters bore the face of Charles Haughey; I wasn't previously aware that he was seen as a candidate for the office of Taoiseach.

General election season is always an interesting time; we're in for an entertaining month and a half. Hopefully we'll be offered an event as hilarious as Gordon Brown's "bigoted woman" comment, and the reversals that followed (the work of Malcolm Tucker, I've always suspected). In all seriousness, this is the most important and radical election in living memory. For me, though, that just makes it that much more entertaining. What on earth is wrong with me?



I couldn't finish without offering this picture of Conor Lenihan, which thoroughly amused me. Bizarrely, according to the picture's caption, he's actually opening a conference, as opposed to, say, accusing someone of murder. Of course, one likes to imagine he's pointing at Brian Cowen, but it seems unlikely.

Fake Up: Texting

In the last number of years, among young people in particular, the practice of sending text messages on mobile telephones ("texting") has become an increasingly common form of communication. It has almost come to define day-to-day life, as this musician wisely observes. Yet texting can be extremely dangerous, on both an individual and a societal level. FAKE UP reports on the hidden dangers of texting.

"C u l8r xxx" – Is this incomprehensible gibberish? A secret code used by a clandestine organisation? An equation of some sort? The answer to these questions is, respectively, "sort of", "in a sense" and "not really". In fact, this is a direct quote from the current writer's teenage daughter. She was observed typing this into a text intended for (presumably) a friend. After some research, it was discovered that the quote translates as "See you later xxx" (the meaning of the final letters could not be deciphered). This example showcases the disturbing trend wherein texters develop their own language with which to communicate. This leads to a marked decline in the standard of their written English; compulsive texters have been known to collapse sobbing in exams, having tried repeatedly to turn predictive text on on their pens. It is projected that if this trend continues, the English language will soon consist entirely of consonants, single vowels and acronyms.

In addition to this threat to linguistic skills, texting has notable health risks. There is evidence that signals from mobile telephones can rot brains, in much the same manner as alcohol. Indeed, some scientists have speculated that this phenomenon may not be unrelated to the previously noted decline in language; the theory goes that the rotting of the brain afflicts the language centre first. Rumours persist that the first compulsive texters in the world are now locked in secret Japanese research facilities, having devolved into our ancestors from approximately two million years ago, homo habilis.

The other noted health risk pertains to the actual physical activity of texting. All that activity on the fingers and hands can bear a very heavy toll. After years of regular texting, tendons wear away. Eventually, the hands become useless, and finally drop off, often still holding a mobile telephone. Sadly, by this stage the texter is often so far gone that she or he is more dismayed by the dropping of the telephone than by the self-induced maiming.

Yet, quite besides this threat to health, the practice of texting also has dangers beyond itself. Often when a young person is engaged in regular texting with another young person, this is an early warning sign that the two youths are entering the early stages of a relationship. This is a danger about which FAKE UP has warned time and again in various media, and should be studiously avoided for the sake of one's mental health. Texting is inextricably linked with relationships, from early flirtations to the practice of "sexting", which is far too ghastly to discuss or even contemplate.

One of the most tragic sights in the world is that of a compulsive texter attempting to press buttons on his/her mobile telephone with the stumps on the ends of his/her arms, and roaring incoherently when the attempt fails. This is often exacerbated by the fact that the texter is filled with the depression that inevitably accompanies relationships. Texting is, in short, an extremely dangerous occupation, hazardous to one's physical, intellectual and psychological well-being. If one really must communicate with one's friends, why not send a nice letter? It can be sealed with a wax seal, possibly incorporating a coat of arms, which text messages most certainly cannot. Perhaps if we all take up the practice of letter-writing, the future of our young people can be saved. Remember, FAKE UP is there for you*!



*FAKE UP and its associates are not responsible for any occasions on which it may not be there for you.

A Year of Marvels?

So, friends, we're now well into 2011. People have started to actually remember what year it is, which is a sure sign that 2010's bloated corpse is sinking to the bottom of the sea of the past (is this the most grotesque metaphor I've ever used? Almost certainly). As such, it's time to look forward to what delights 2011 has in store for us; whether they be cultural or political. So here are a few things which I'm hoping to enjoy in 2011.

First of all, here in Ireland we'll be having a long overdue general election. Thank. Christ. Whoever you think should be in power, and even if you think the current government have been unfairly treated, the fact is that they have long since lost their democratic mandate, and an election is needed to ensure that a government with popular support is in place*. What this means is a few glorious weeks for political junkies like myself: full of speculation, polls, grilling of candidates on doorsteps. The day after the election is always an interesting one, where the shape of the new government begins to emerge; if all goes as I hope, I may live-blog it.

Speaking of elections, the new series of Armando Ianucci's genius political satire The Thick of It should be hitting our screens around the end of the year. This will be the first series since the Coalition government took office, and it'll be interesting to see how the programme deals with that. Is Malcolm Tucker out of a job (unlikely)? Has the surprisingly likeable shadow minister Peter Mannion taken over the DoSAC job? How many of the inevitable departmental screw-ups will be blamed on Nick Clegg? I suspect this will be one of the television highlights of the new year; it looks set to confirm my contention that British politics is the best of all politics, because it features the best satire.

Another BBC programme which will be starting into another series, probably in the next few months, is my old friend Doctor Who. Now, I essentially spent my previous article talking about why this new series could well be something very special indeed, so I won't go into that again (though I will note that one of my favourite writers, Neil Gaiman, has written an episode for this series, to which I'm greatly looking forward). What's more, the programme's spin-off, Torchwood, is returning in a huge, transatlantic form (a regenerated form, if you like) on the 1^st of July.

Lest this should begin to feel like an extended ad for the BBC (I'm often in danger of sounding that way, it must be said), I'll move on. Now, I'm a big Marvel Comics aficionado, and I've always particularly liked Thor, so Kenneth Branagh's film about the Norse god is something to which I'm greatly looking forward. This is not only for its own sake, but also because it'll be important for laying the groundwork for the 2012 Avengers film, which I'm told is being written and directed by some fellow named Joss Whedon. I'm a big Avengers fan, so I do hope this "Whedon" fellow knows what he's doing.

Another big cinematic event (maybe the big cinematic event of 2011?) will be the release of the second part of the film adaptation of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The weeping that will be heard this July will be the sound of Warner Bros. executives realising that there are no more films left in the series for them to milk. I'm also a big Harry Potter fan, so I'm looking forward to the final film; I thought the first part was rather good (it featured a Nick Cave song, which didn't hurt). Of course, if you're not a fan, then you can look forward to the hype about the films being over forever.

Moving away from cinema, and from culture in general, 2012 will be the last full year of Barack Obama's presidential term (his first, at any rate). This means that throughout 2011, the stars will begin to align, as it were, and the nominees (and, more notably, the frontrunners) for the 2012 election should become reasonably clear. Obama himself is obviously the most likely candidate for the Democratic ticket (though some catastrophe this year could threaten that), but who will be the GOP frontrunner? Palin? Romney? Huckabee? By the end of the year, the answer to that question may not be entirely clear yet, but the race will most definitely be on. By the way, I'm still hoping for Malcolm Reynolds.

There are liable to be a number of musical treats in store this year. Lisa Hannigan will be releasing the follow-up to 2008's excellent Sea Sew; I'll be looking forward to that a great deal. Also, the ever-prolific Nick Cave has announced a new Bad Seeds album for this year (which hasn't been written or recorded yet, but that's hardly going to stop him). Other old reliables such as REM and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers also have albums on the way. This is to say nothing of tours and gigs, of course. Who knows? Montreal's Musical Messiahs may grace us with another tour. Remember to hope and pray, children.

So that's about it: my year will be filled with political analysis and appreciation of culture (then again, all my years are). It's possible I've missed out on something; this could, after all, be the year we finally get invaded by aliens, which would probably make most "Highlights of 2011" lists. Remember that, as always, the future's bright. The future's WAKE UP.



* - I believe this is the closest I've ever come to breaking my "no political agendas" rule; apologies if it feels like I was biased. If so, I will operate BBC rules and allow a cabinet minister to do a guest post here next week.

A Most Puzzling Quandary

As of yesterday (happy New Year, by the way), it's been precisely a year since I first saw Matt Smith as the Doctor (albeit for about thirty seconds at the end of 'The End of Time'). This makes it all the stranger that I'm still not entirely sure what to make of him. I like him, that much I know, but I just can't decide how much I like him; whether he ranks towards the top (Tennant, Pertwee, Tom Baker), the middle (Eccleston, Davison) or the bottom (McCoy, Colin Baker). Obviously, his era hasn't ended yet, so it would be a bit unfair to judge him, but then this is all the time Eccleston had, and a lot more than Paul McGann did (unless you count radio adventures). Besides, I knew how much I liked Tennant by the end of his first series. Having just rewatched Smith's first series in just a few days, though, there are a few thoughts I'd like to share (one of which is how much I love the idea of a Doctor being called "Smith").

First of all, people have said to me that Smith is somewhat similar to Tennant in the way he approaches the role. In fairness, this may be the doing of the writers and Steven Moffat (more on him later) more so than Smith, and even so it's not terrible really, particularly given that I loved Tennant's approach. Smith shares the same eccentricity (though somehow his seems more bizarre and less endearing than Tennant's to me, though that could just be a personal thing), but seems more given to sudden outbursts of anger (though Tennant had them too, of course). There is an argument that successive Doctors should be different, even contradictory. For instance, the serious, almost grim (albeit avuncular) Jon Pertwee was preceded by the clownish Patrick Troughton and succeeded by the completely insane Tom Baker. Sometimes, though, the difference is more of an evolution. To take another example, Christopher Eccleston's Doctor was scarred and bitter from the Time War, and what he had to do to end it; Tennant's Doctor still carried those scars, but had been improved by his exposure to humanity (notably, he was most like his predecessor when he encountered the Time Lords in 'The End of Time'). Perhaps the Eleventh Doctor is intended (partially, at least) as a continuation of aspects of the Tenth.

Each successive Doctor, obviously, is the oldest yet (which becomes confusing in multiple Doctor stories, when the youngest actors are playing the oldest Doctors). Of course, this means that Smith's Doctor is the oldest so far, and indeed Smith has been praised for how well he portrays the Doctor's sheer age (907, allegedly; best not to research the complex, contradictory canon on this matter if you want to preserve your sanity). In fairness, Tennant did this too, particularly in one of my favourite scenes of his, from 'School Reunion' ("I'm so old. I used to have so much mercy."). Smith plays a great old man, despite his youth. To be honest, though, after Tennant in particular, I rather wanted an older Doctor; someone middle-aged, perhaps. Younger actors have more energy, but I'd like to see an older Doctor for a change; a bit of gravitas would work very nicely, and it wouldn't mean sacrificing the eccentricity (look at Tom Baker). The romantic elements might have to go, but that needn't be terrible.

Speaking of romantic elements, I'd be remiss to ignore the wonderful Karen Gillan. Companions are a huge part of any series of Doctor Who, and I loved Amy Pond. She's smart, resourceful and just bizarre in the way she transfers her affections between Rory and the Doctor. I'm very glad that we'll be seeing more of her and Rory. All right, a large part of that is because, let's face it, she is rather easy on the eye, but there are also lofty reasons of characterisation and integrity and other big, important things in question.

Just look at her. Good Lord.

I should also give a shout out to Arthur Darvill; Rory is another brilliant character. His cluelessness at first was endearing, and Moffat was wise enough to move things along quickly so that by the end of the series Rory was capable, useful and even somewhat secure, which was a little bit of a miracle.

Speaking of Steven Moffat, I was utterly delighted to hear that he was becoming the head writer. I had visions of every episode being a 'Girl in the Fireplace' or a 'Blink'. It hasn't quite worked out that way, but rewatching his series I have been reminded of just how good he is. The whole concept of cracks in reality was threaded through nicely, with relevance throughout, without the ham-handedness of a 'Bad Wolf' or a 'Mr. Saxon', to be paid off only at the end. The return of the Weeping Angels was handled well; the threat was stepped up nicely without becoming ridiculous. I didn't like that we saw them moving (mainly because it destroyed my "the camera counts as someone looking at them" theory, of which I was very proud), but they still managed to remain mysterious and frightening, even when one of them spoke (sort of). I loved the moral complexities and impossible choices in episodes like 'The Beast Below', which I didn't fully appreciate the first time around. I do have a quibble with Moffat, though; he does change the rules a bit too much, a failing he shares with Russell T. Davies. For instance, the Doctor's been jumping around his own personal timeline, and bringing people back on theirs, like nobody's business, notably in 'The Big Bang' and 'A Christmas Carol'. I will continue to trust to the Moff, though, and look forward to the next series in the knowledge that Stetsons are indeed cool.

Speaking of the next series, let us look to the future. Even though I haven't made up my mind about Matt Smith, I still want him to continue; I'd like to see what he has in store. There's a lot more to discover: who's beyond the silence? What's the deal with River Song? Are bowties really cool? I have a theory that Moffat is the biggest Doctor Who fan of them all; he's already delighted me by bringing back the Silurians, so I'm looking forward to seeing what else he might bring back from the archives. Given his reverence for Who history and Smith's noted penchant for dark rages and the sheer age of the Doctor, there's one trick in particular I'd like to see them pull off: the return of my favourite character (not that he's been gone a terribly long time). I think Smith's Doctor could really excel up against the Master. Tennant and John Simm had a great chemistry; given something similar, such a showdown could be something really spectacular. With that in mind, I'll leave you in the capable hands of Charlie McDonnell, with his song about the wonderfully complicated finale to series 5. By the way, since I haven't found room to mention it yet, I should say that series 5 is now my favourite since the programme's return, despite my uncertainty about the Doctor. Let's call it an auspicious start; show me something wonderful, Matt. Maybe get a haircut too. Cheers.