Willi's Guide to Glitz and Glamour 1.1

Welcome along to the inaugral edition of 'Willi's Guide to Glitz and Glamour', this blog's commentary on the world of media and entertainment. This won't be an appreciation or review of the latest Doctor Who episode or update on who I think will win Celebrity Big Brother though they may get a mention. I'll be focusing on a variety of stories breaking in the realms of TV, radio, cinema and literature though I'm going to try and avoid being too sensationalist. I'll try. It is titled 'glitz and glamour' after all.

BBC Radio 5Live has a collection of trading faces in early 2010. Richard Bacon, who has strenuously denied being a contestant in the next Celeb BB, will be taking the mid-afternoon slot previously occupied by Simon Mayo who will take up presenting duties on Radio 2's drivetime show. Bacon may be seen as a somewhat downmarket replacement for an afternoon position, especially compared to the informative and effortless Mayo, however he has built up a strong niche following. Presenting 5Live's weeknight evening slot, his 'Special Half Hour' before the show's close is probably the type of item best reserved for a late-night cult following rather than a serious mainstream programme. It will be interesting to hear how Bacon presents serious news stories and whether he will steer away from his love of celebrity culture, no matter how tongue in cheek this may be.

Meanwhile I notice that hard-boiled invesitagtor Donal MacIntrye has been presenting Up All Night. Is Rhod Sharp on holiday? I'd only known about Donal through the investigative pieces that were shown on TV before listening to a similar programme of his on 5Live that is broadcast on Sunday evenings. The last few evenings he's been hosting Up All Night and whilst he may not be in the same calibre as Mr. Sharp, it'll be interesting to see how his sound develops fronting a lengthy show with plenty of air-time to fill.

Switching to TV and Eastenders was a predictable ratings hit over the holiday period. No doubt the main contributing factor was the festive cheer afforded to it's long suffering viewers (I count myself as one of them) through the murder of the villainous Archie Mitchell. Those 11 million or so who tuned in must have leapt with delight as the bust of Queen Victoria was thrust upon everyone's favourite TV sociopath. The inquest resembles the famous Simpsons 'Who Shot Mr. Burns' double-bill with nearly everyone in Walford having a valid reason to eradicate the blight of Archie Mitchell. From the blackmailed Ian Beale, hoping that wife Jayne wouldn't find the sex-tape made with Archie's woman scorned, Janine Butcher, to lovely Bradley whose hopelessly mis-matched love interest (Stacey) is pregnant by the poisionous pensioner. I really can't recall when the two slept together! Working in an environment littered with cheap magazines, anxious to ruin and reveal all of the soap storylines, it's not often too difficult to disseminate from their crude title headlines what is going to happen. I'm desperately trying to keep my eyes firmly on the floor in an attempt to not succumb to temptation of spoiling months of viewing.

My parents are traditional types and every week they have delivered their copy of the Radio Times which throughout the years I've also taken an interest in. Having moved away, the only time I will buy a television guide is at Christmas when I purchase the aforementioned publication. RT has become incredibly self-congratulatory when describing it's Christmas issue as 'legendary' though to a degree I cannot argue with this boast. Christmas is THE time of year when television supposedly comes into its own and we're treated to a concentration of new drama, comedy, entertainment and film that is generally much higher than at any other time. So holding the thick wedge that is the RT Christmas edition and turning it's pages, I am often captivated and full of anticipation. However I have bought into this hype for the last couple of years and never really found that any of the tele-visual 'gems' held my attention once I'd switched on. Despite my best intentions, the RT's pages are soon overlooked.

I'm not particularly a fan of current sitcoms (though I will admit the guilty pleasure of liking Miranda. Is that wrong?) so their Christmas specials hold no sway with me. Plus I can't be bothered to sit through three hours of countdowns involving 'xyz of the decade' with inane contributions from people desperate to have their fifteen minutes of fame. So I switched back to my radio. Now, I know I've mentioned 5Live already but I shall do again. One of the more startling events in the Christmas broadcasting schedule that I tuned into was the documentary piece entitled James, My Alcoholic Friend with likeable posho and former tennis player, Annabel Croft. It was Christmas Eve and venturng back towards the Home Counties along a bitterly cold M25, I pondered that this was a slightly bizarre early evening Christmas item, especially since I'd been previously listening to other stations pontificating on the usual fluff and who's bought the wife what and 'how are your last minute preparations for the big day going?'

The premise was that Croft had spent ten days sleeping rough in London (oh, the poor lamb, you must be thinking) and met James, a down on his luck fellow who had all the usual addictions. Obviously taken in by the chap, apparently a linguist who spoke five languages, count 'em, therefore he must be the right sort, she endeavours to trace him and see how he is getting on having heard of his descent into alcoholism when they initially met. The journey, sincere enough, is the typical trawl through the streets surrounded by the more undeserving poor and zombie-like creatures who regail a shocked Croft with stories of how James had taken their drink money and spent it on himself. Attempts at tracking James down were proving fruitless and I was beginning to wonder how many more junctions I could pass listening to the endless throng of people tell a distraught Annabel Croft that a man who used all his money to buy drink, ripped off his mates and had even been spotted with two black eyes, could well have passed away.

As it turned out, he wasn't dead and had been staying at a rehabilitation centre in Weston-Super-Mare. As his condition improved, we began to learn more about how his life as a Spanish rep and the constant pressure of forcing people to be happy and have a good time had been the forerunner to his own problems. Eventually, Croft and James go to visit his parents in Scotland and James tries to re-establish contact with his children. Despite criticism that the show became over-dramatised, long-winded and perhaps even slightly patronising, I thought it was a refreshing listen. It cut through the Christmas cheese and encroached upon the darker underbelly of the season.

That's it for now. Next week I'll be taking a look at more of what we can expect in the new year and examining what's making the entertainment headlines. Celebrity BB starts next week. Can I resist?