Wednesday, 18 January 2012
For a while it used to Dr (or is it Prof) Brian Cox. He is eminently qualified as an object of unrequited hate. He's intelligent, youngish, talks a lot and people take notice. His name gets me confused as it's the same as that lovely, oldish actor with the frenetically lived in face. But his main qualification, the thing that marked him out, in my eyes, as the most hated of men was his smile.
Some might raise an eyebrow at this. After all, they'd say, what's wrong with a smile that exposes a row of gleaming nashers that makes the White Cliffs of Dover look like the blackest coal.
I'll tell you what's wrong: his smile reminds me of Tony Blair at his most nauseous, at his most unbearably plausible, at his most wickedly unctuous. And, of course, the Professor was in D:rem whose poppy bit of poo fronted Tony "Faustus" Blair's 1997 successful election campaign.
But dear Brian has lost that crown. Why? quite simply. "Stargazing Live".
More please. It's the sort of telly that makes you want to go out and kiss Andrew Lloyd Webber fully on the lips. That's how great it is. And the Prof is frankly the best thing on it, apart from all those lovely stars and telescopes.
I can't wait for tonight, along with half the burglars in Somerset, when the little town of Dulverton goes dark. I remember in the 1980's driving out of London into the depths of Essex to get a view of Halley's comet, or in 2000 ( I think) rushing out of the office to witness the Solar eclipse. The Prof brought that all back and my childhood fascination with the stars.
Dr Cox has been promoted and now sits alongside Mike Brearley and Ian Botham in my pantheon of the immortals.
For a short time Benedict Cumberbach held pole position on the hate grid, but he went and spoiled it all by starring in Sherlock. This is possibly the most talked about programme since Dr Who returned. And rightly so it is just the bestest best thing since...the new Dr Who.......
Did he jump? How did he do it? How could he put dear Watson and Mrs Hudson through such anguish?
Who cares? Cumbers will be bach and I can't wait.
He's my hero now you know; I've forgiven him his good looks and the fact that his mum is the wonderful Wanda Ventham who I had shameful thoughts about in my youth. Benedict has joined Brian in that illustrious company of Coidan's Heroes (like Kelly's Heroes but with brains).
The new villian? The new target of my scorn, the object of my bile? There can only be one candidate. The blonde bumbling, bothersome Boris. Our Mayor of London.
His condescension, his arrogance and fat headedness means that it is unlikely that he will vacate the top spot in my Pick of the Strops.
I heard him on the radio this morning talking about his plans for a new London airport in the Thames Estuary. I know he's the Mayor of London but does he have to be the greatest apologist ever for capitalism. Rip up the countryside, make people's life hell, and pour billions in the already bulging pockets of the wealthy. He appears to be happy to celebrate that London attracts the billionaires from around the world whose wealth is pushing up the prices of all types of housing putting thousands on the streets.
He's insufferable, and I hate him. So there!