Tourettes - I Swear I Can't Help It, Thursday, BBC1, 9pm

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00ksj56/Tourettes_I_Swear_I_Cant_Help_It/

Since he was 15 in 1988, the BBC have been following the ups and downs of John Davidson from Galashiels and condition that has plagued his life - Tourette's.

Tourette's is a neurological dysfunction that is responsible for involuntary ticks: jerks and spasms, and very often shouting - especially swear words.

Not for one minute would I poke fun at John - his school life was ruined by the condition as little was known about it then and he lost out on fun and friends which is certainly no laughing matter - but as he said himself, if people were asked to name the funniest disease, Tourette's would be it.

In this update we check in on the now 37-year-old John and fellow sufferer, Greg Storey, 15, who is compared John at the same age, to gage how awareness of the condition has changed since 1988.

Now there are various shows that make most of us giggle, but I haven't laughed quite as hard for some time until I watched a particular scene in this programme, but not at the people concerned - with them...

John has worked as a caretaker at a community centre for many years. He has set up a Scottish group for Tourette's which meet for various weekends in which sufferers get together and hopefully learn something new.

One of said weekends, started with a relaxation session. Everyone was sat in a circle whilst one of the group was guiding the closed-eyed sufferers, including John, through a lovely field...the sun was shining, the grass was sweet and green. "Look at the grass, " she said, "How long is it? " to which John shouts: "I'm up to ma knees in ****ing cowpat!"

Not quite the relaxation we were looking for...But the thing about Tourette's is that these statements actually go through minds - mine at least. The difference is, most of us can resist shouting them. Well, sometimes.

Next on the agenda was a meeting with a local benefits expert from the Citizens Advice Bureau, Heather Smith.

Joining the group was John's mate Chopper - who only developed Tourette's at 33 - who has similar 'ticks' to John.

John put a keyring in his mouth to try and stop any outbursts triggered by Chopper.

Heather starts by saying that she Googled the condition and the very narrow information it gave.
She gallantly carried on her speech as Chopper shouted:

"**** off nosey!"

which spurred on John to shout:

"Chopper dyes his p*bes ginger!"

To which Chopper replies: "Your dog's got t**ts!"

That made John say: "p**s!"

By which time poor Heather, trying hard to carry on, blurted 'incap***ity benefit', instead of 'incapacity benefit' which makes everyone in the group burst out laughing and made John exclaim: "You've got Tourette's by proxy now!"

BontB, at this point, was crying with laughter.

What brave people these are to make the most out of their lives with this disease and I wish them all the very best.

But my, they are ******** funny.

Britain's Got Talent...Well, sometimes. Saturday, ITV1, 8.20

Don't you just love Simon Cowell and the way his cheesy TV company has us weeping, laughing and cringing every Saturday night?

What is it about the pathos, the highs, the lows, that has us so addicted? It's like a televisual form of cocaine. And who released the tear gas on the show. And in my lounge?

Damn him and his perfectly veneered canines...

Any road, this week, we saw the last auditions in which we were introduced to 'Nick Hell' who swung a bin from his earlobes and put a coat hanger through his conk, a geriatric breakdancer, (who has got more moves than teeth) and...er, Martin.

Martin looked and sounded rather like an accountant from somewhere cutting-edge like Knott End. He came along to the auditions carrying something very special in his large black box. Was it a bird? Was it a plane? No...It was light-up guitar.

Cosmic.

Martin trudged onto the stage and started to sing Queen's 'I Want To Break Free'. And for the love of Christ , the audience wanted to break free too.

If you've ever heard a cat on heat, sat on burning hot coals in the rain, you will be able to understand where Martin got his vocal inspiration.

But that wasn't all.

For the guitar solo, the guitar lit up like Blackpool Illuminations on acid. In fact the instrument had more talent than him. The irony however, was that Martin got through to the next round.

Simon was the only one to, quite rightly, buzz him. He told Martin that he was pretty rubbish but Amanda and Piers liked him.

Usually that would be the end of the matter, but Martin's biggest fan, his mother-in-law, strode onto the stage and told Simon he was very nasty. Simon's reply? Silence. AT LAST!

Have I missed something, or is this show supposed to be based on talent?

In an extended episode, we got to find out who, out of the 200 acts, would be going through to the semi-finals and I've got to say there were a few surprises.

A dancing Darth Vader, a human saxophone, an overweight drag queen who eats his own naval fluff and guess who? Martin.

He's probably got through because if he didn't, the mother-in-law would give Simon a jolly good thrashing with a wet Jaycloth. Or something similar.

You couldn't make it up, because if you did, you'd probably get three buzzes.

So, it's good news for Susan Boyle fans and that fab Greek pair who do a Riverdance skit.

Who is your money on to win? I'll put a ton on that funny pair of Geordies who cheekily get on every week.

Great news! The earlobe man made it. To the semi final that is. Though perhaps he's in with a chance at the asylum too...

The Apprentice comes up 'Norf'

Is it me, or is it very worrying that these candidates are in charge of actual sales departments somewhere?

In the latest installment of The Apprentice (BBC1, Wednesdays, 9pm), the candidates were under the illusion that they were off to sunnier climes for this week's task.

Ha ha numpties.

In a rainy service station car park, they were informed by Sir Al that they were indeed 'gaain' ap Norf' to Manchester and Liverpool to sell two of a possible 12 items to big business buyers.

This week's 'PMs' (God, don't you just hate people who abbreviate everything) were Mona and greasy Lorraine -you know, the one that's a cross between Marlon Brando's Godfather with the stuffed cheeks and Woody Allen.

At Manchester's Hilton Hotel the teams picked from a dazzling array of inventions from a 'Mojo Ball' and a 'Drill Mate' to the ridiculous stuff they actually chose to sell which included a sleeping bag with arms and legs and a two-handled dog lead. Pity there wasn't an invention to make Lorraine's hair actually appear clean.
But I guess science hasn't progressed that far yet.

Lorraine spilt up her team and she and pizza-faced Yasmina sold shed-loads. However, Geordy bighead Phillip, braces-wearing Ben and that blond bint with the wonky gob, didn't sell a bean. Which didn't go down too well...

In the boardroom, it was down to Lorraine to bring back two of her team for a possible firing so she chose Philip and the blond. Phillip, at long last, shot himself in the foot - unfortunately not literally - by slagging off Lorraine so much it was embarrassing. He even snapped at Sir Al.

And so it came to pass that it was the North-Eastern nincompoop, in the taxi, with the blue Samsonite.

And good riddance too.

Only one question remains...Deborah - why the long face?

Argey on a bargey with our Cassanova Ken

Eeeee by eck.

Just when you thought it was safe to sail into the sunset, up pops Cassanova Ken Barlow to put a spanner in't works.

Coronation Street (ITV, Monday, 7.30 & 8.30) was full of 'unobvious' goodbyes for sad old Ken - 'Sail This Ship Alone' on the jukebox; "Make sure you look after your Daddy" speeches - you know, understated.

As he drank in the majesty of the cobbles and pigeons, he looked slightly sad to be leaving all this glitz and glamour for a 70 something who now- thanks to a needle, back stitch and a good tailwind- looks more like a 30 something.

Yes Ken has finally had enough of Dierdre's turkey-necked wheezing and Blanche's boggle-eyed bitchiness to run off with an actress who resides on a barge on Wetherfied canal. No, honestly.

Martha aka Stephanie Beecham, was everything that Dierdre aint: womanly, educated and able to speak without half her cartilage bulging from her throat.

Ken fell in love with old, sorry, young Martha on his secret visits to the barge whilst 'taking the dog for a walk'. Now, finally, he had plucked up the courage to write a note to Diedre and leave.

With one small suitcase, he trundled to the canal where she had her infamous homemade soup and a glass of Chablis waiting.

But in a dramatic twist as Ken untied the boat to sail off into the future, he actually jumped off and left her to sail on her own. And just when she thought she was getting a bit of 'how's your father', or, in this case, 'how's your grandfather'.

With a combined age of around 315, this couple, sadly, was not to be.

Now Ken has literally missed the boat to happiness for a life of dowdy wallpaper and halves of bitter down the Rovers.

And there was I thinking he had an education.

Silly old coot.

The bizarre world of Come Dine With Me, Sunday 8pm CH4

Good God.

Just when you think it's safe to turn over to Channel 4 for a little light relief, we are hit with four very odd Brummies trying to cook a three-course dinner in order to win a cash prize of a grand.

Quite simply, four complete strangers host a dinner party in turn for the other diners to vote on in secret. Sounds like a programme for toffs? Far from it...

First of all the viewers and the other guests were introduced to Fareeda, a bubbly Muslim lady who doesn't allow alcohol in her house much to the shock of her guests Natalie, Mike and Lee. They do instead don traditional Indian dress and eat on the floor.
Hmmm.
But the curry went down well, even if the guests had to drink their bottles of wine in the taxi home. But for a couple of the guests, it doesn't look as if it would be an alien concept.

The next evening, it was all round to half-Spanish Natalie's pad. Well her mum and dad's mansion to be precise, for gazpacho, paella and creme brulee. It's here that the knives started to come out - and that's nowt to do with carving.

Aussie Mike didn't like salesman Lee because he's a bit full of himself which is a little rich considering Mike has strutted about like a constipated bulldog for the last two evenings.

Lee, with an eye for a sale, gives Natalie £40 for her very large sangria bowl complete with sangria. The next night, as it is his turn to cook, Lee hilariously puts two goldfish in it instead. And it went down like a mixed grill at a vegetarian luncheon.

Lee, convinced from the start that he was the winner, runs out of time when preparing his food. Consequently, his guests eat two hours later than planned. His burnt creme brulee got thrown out of the window and he gave his guests a bunch of asparagus and packet sauce to take home. His score out of a possible 40? Er, seven.

The last evening was hosted by Aussie Mike who was cockily assured of victory. He made all his guests wear loud shirts for some strange reason. However, his beef was tough and his veggies burned but his Prince Regent cake was a hit.

Pity the hit wasn't between a palm and his smug fat face.

The winner of the coveted prize is Natalie. But the biggest prize must go to Dave Lamb, narrator of the show who promptly took the proverbial throughout the show.

The b*%&h is back!

Good evening TV fans.

Unfortunately, BontheB has been out of action but fortunately, she returns..

Stay tuned for reviews of 'Dirty' Ken Barlow, The self-absorbed toss-pots that could very well become The Apprentice and a homage to the king of the kitchen Marco Pierre White - otherwise known as God in a striped piny.

w/c 14/02/09

Oh how we laughed at the latest Celebrity Come Dine With Me.

This time we were having dinner with Julia Bradbury from Watchdog, Christopher Biggins from I'm A Celebrity, Phillip Olivier from Brookside, and Edwina Currie from a vile place that breeds Tories.

First off, we are at Julia's where she starts of with a little Aquavit. Cut to a very camp Biggins reading the menu - "Aquavit! It's vile!" but when he later realises he got the drink mistaken for Advocaat he chirps: "Advocaat makes me vomit. Aquavit I adore. I went down the wrong avenue there."

Not for the first time Mr Biggins.

Julia serves up smoked salmon blinis and fillet of beef, which Phillip favours: "If it moves, I'll eat it."

Now there's a statement girls.

Plied with alcohol, Julia, Phillip and Biggins are dancing and laughing, but Edwina is not so happy: "I don't need to drink to enjoy myself." But perhaps, Ms Currie, others need to drink to forget you're there.

The next night, it's over to Phil's for chicken liver pate, grey bream and Eton Mess.
Edwina's a little more chirpy and wants to see Philip's chest as he done a lot of modelling including Attitude, the gay magazine. However both Edwina and Christopher have to make do with signed copies of Phil's calendar. That's showbiz folks.

Next is Edwina's house where she prepares her dishes with her 2 dogs on the kitchen floor - all bitches together then.

She prepares roasted tomato and garlic soup, pistachio souffle and individual Beef Wellingtons.
The guests go an nosey round her rather large house and Biggins notes a photo of a baboon on the wall: "A lovely picture of Edwina on holiday," he jokes.

Last but not least, it's the turn of Biggins who gets his housekeeper Steph to do most of the preparation for him while he's titivating the fresh flowers.

Edwina arrives walking like John Wayne and Biggins contemplates sticking a rude part of his anatomy in her food. Pity he didn't...

A great night was had by all and Biggins was the victor. Or should that be Victoria?

By the end of this hour, one phrase is on my mind though- I'm not a celebrity, but get me out of here.

w/c 07/02/09

Where on earth do Channel 4 find the wierdos to appear in their programmes?

In A Very British Storm Chaser (Thursday, 9pm), we were introduced to a rather geeky, Stewart Robinson, an IT consultant whose hobby was dashing off all over the world to watch hurricanes and typhoons.
But at first one wonders what is more fascinating: his storm footage or his teeth vaguely reminiscent of graveyard tombs.
His long-suffering fiance Alison was used to him jetting off at a drop of a hat as soon as his high-tech equipment in his office told him there was a storm brewing; even though his shenanigans brewed many a storm right there in his own home.

Stewart's fascination started when he watched the film Twister, which is all about tornadoes, and his ultimate goal is to be in the eye of the storm. Thank God he didn't see Striptease instead.

He shows us his survival kit - tins of beans, goggles and glow sticks; you know, what you'd expect. (?)

Now what would be fascinating would be to see Stewart eating the beans in 100 mile and hour winds.

Especially with those nashers.

The height of this tale, if there is such a thing, is when Stewart and his mate go to New Orleans to chase the hurricane. It's total gridlock as everyone is trying to get out and these two have their side of the freeway to themselves trying to get in. They whoop with delight as police let them into a deserted car park where they can watch the storm in safety, only to find that the storm has moved a few miles and is now nowhere near them.

Hey-ho.

However, all is not lost as they speed to the storm and battle through the fierce winds and rain to finally get into the eye of the storm. And what was there?

Erm, nowt really. Just a few puddles.

Stewart spots another storm building a couple of days later and phones home to ask if he can stay on in the US. Alison has reached her limit by now however and puts her foot down. She's going away and it means she won't see him for a couple of weeks. (Personally, I'd be cracking the Champers, but back to the story), "You're pointing an emotional gun to my head!" He cries and stomps around the room a bit determined to stay.

Stewart's on the next flight home.

There's nothing more scary than a storm of a woman's scorn. And by the way, is this programme really a Victoria Wood sketch?

We leave the whirlwind of fun and mirth that is Stewart and Alison in their kitchen having just enjoyed a roast dinner.
"Do you want another roast potato?" She enquires. "No, I'm quite full. I want to ensure I've left room for crumble."

And of course, by now, we've all lost the will to live...

w/c 31/01/09

I'm so glad I tuned into The World's most Enhanced Woman (Channel4, Wednesday, 10pm) as I was feeling a little down as you do from time to time. But compared to the women in this programme I was skipping around the room, kissing the cat, shouting "Hurrah! Rejoice! At least I am normal!"

Mark Dolan travelled the globe to meet the women with the biggest augmented breasts.
It's a hard job, but someone has to do it.

The current Guinness Book Of Records record holder is the UK's Maxi Mounds, but after a phone call to her agent, Mark reveals she has gone into retirement leaving the post open for another bra-busting bird.

His first stop is Las Vegas to meet Crystal Ashley who had her hey-day in the 90s earning $20,000 a week. Now she is stripping, doing porn and living in a pre-fab in a dodgy part of town. How the mighty (boobs) fall.
She had her implants reduced because the silicone was leaking and making her ill. Thrillingly, she has kept the said 5.5 litre silicone implants, now full of what looks like dirty pond water. Thoughts of fairgrounds and winning a goldfish in a bag spring to mind. Perhaps that's what they really used, hence the problem.
But things aren't all that bad. Crystal still has some die-hard fans who follow her around and steal her underwear - perhaps they just need an extra-large hammock to swing in.

Soon we are taken to Brazil, the number one plastic surgery capital of the world, to meet TV star Shayla Hershey who isn't exactly shy either in front of the camera or applying make-up. She is determined to get her already humongous bristols up to 5.5 litres each which would make them the biggest in the world.

As part of the interview, Shayla insists on going shopping in order to get mobbed by fans, maybe most of whom want to crouch under rather large rotunded shadow to shade from the glaring sun.

Shayla has many make-up breaks throughout the day from her on-hand make-up artist and
one couldn't hep but wonder if the sheer amount of it has attributed to her skin akin to a page of Braille.

Poor Shayla came from a very poor background - one of 11 kids. It makes her happy to look good, even if that means looking like a Barbie with beach balls down her boob-tube.

Shayla has booked into a top hospital for a bit of Botox, lipo and of course more saline in her baps. So hungry for publicity, she want the cameras to film the op and so we see her nipples being lifted and more fluid being injected. It's a bit like the action of topping up your screen wash under the bonnet of the car.

Within an hour, the hairdresser is straightening her hair and she has a full face of make-up as she comes round from the anesthetic. "I'm so happy!" She says as tears stream through her inch-thick panstick.

Against the advice of her doctor, Shayla, complete with bandages, throws a party in the grounds of the hospital for all her fans.

And the need for all this? "I just want to be remembered." She says. And I've no doubt she will.

As the only person in the world that is taller lying down than standing up.


What a sigh of relief that 10 Years Younger (Channel 4, Thursday, 8pm) is back minus the wretched Nicky Hambleton Jones and is plus singer/pianist/M&S model Myleene Klass.

Perhaps my wish came true and Nicky had cosmetic surgery on her mouth - to sew it up.

But back to the show. The new format takes to prematurely aged adults, takes them out on the street to see how old the public think they are (usually at least 10 years older than the truth) , then tries to make them look younger; one with surgery and one with more natural methods.

Last night we met Kathleen - a fumpy, mumsie 49 -year -old that looks 60; and Mary - a mutton dressed as lamb, with most of her teeth clinging on for dear life 50 -year -old that looked 63.
Kathleen, who's entire wardrobe consisted of long flarey skirts and tee-shirts, went down the natural route with facial acupuncture, facials and an eyelash perm.

Heavy smoker Mary however, had a chemical peel, brow, face and neck lift and eye tightening. Christ, wouldn't it have been easier to give her a new head?
During her op, top surgeon Yan Stanic commented "She's got thick skin."

Good job, looking like that.

Once Mary's skin had adequately shed, and the bruising and swelling had gone down, it was time for a much-needed trip to the dentist. The plan is to replace most of them with porcelain veneers which is a long and painful task, but so worth it when you have got a gob like Stonehenge.
The next stage involves getting the ladies into more appropriate attire.

Kathleen is put into a knee-length tulip skirt which is very flattering. "My legs haven't been on show for so long!" she cries. I'm not surprised love, with those hamkles.

And so, after hair cuts and colour, full make-up and stylish wardrobe, the ladies are revealed to friends and family and of course, themselves.

And even I have got to say haw fabulous they look. The new poll ages from people on the street? Kathleen now looks 45 and Mary 47.

Sadly, the public thinks that Myleene now looks 53.

Well, you can't win 'em all.

w/c 24/01/2009

Eeee, there's been a lot going on along the cobbled streets of Wetherfield (Coronation Street, ITV1). Maria tries to kill Tony because Tony killed Liam (although no-one knows). Tony got rid of Jed to Wigan because Jed was also nearly killed by Tony (and no-one knows that either). But, Carla, Tony's wife, catches Tony manhandling Jed into a cab. Will her bulbous lips keep shut over that one; for a change?

Meanwhile, Peter Barlow is at a drying out clinic cos he can't keep off the sauce and it's left to Blanche and Leanne to run his turf accountant business. How on earth can they count out the money with the state of their eyes? Blanche has one eye going to the shop and the other coming back with the change and Leanne has one eye looking at you and one eye looking for you. Maybe should re-name his shop The Boggle-eyed Birds' Bookies.

Whilst walking his rat-type dog along Wetherfield canal, cheeky Ken Barlow managed to stumble across Stephanie Beecham living on a barge, so went in to sample her potato and leek soup and a glass of Shiraz.
As you do.
See? Soaps really are a reflection of real life.

If you're on LSD.

In A Million Pound Place In The Sun (Ch4, Thursday), presenter Amanda Lamb (does anyone else think 'two pigs in a sack?' when looking at her chest) tried to find footballer Jason Cundy and wife Lizzy a posh pad in France. Dizzy Lizzy was amazed by all the properties and dutifully clicked her fingers, annoyingly often, every time she got a little over-excited; which was about every two minutes.
In fact, it seemed that Lizzy thought the whole point of the programme was an audition for some kind of reality 'no-one's heard of me, but aren't I fabulous anyway'-type show.

She'd certainly be the winner of a Bratz doll look alike contest.

When it came to finding their dream home price at just over £1 million, Jason just had to get the windows replaced. Why? Because they were plastic.

Come on now Jason, plastic can't be that bad...just look at your wife.

In the end, after a lot of haggling with the vendor, Jason would not come down £5,000 on the price, so that was the end of that.

So that was worth watching then...not.

w/c 17/01/09

Salmon dipped in licorice.
Scrambled egg with Earl Grey essence.
Lancashire hot pot with lambs tongue and oyster.
This isn't food.
This is Heston Blumenthal's 'what planet must he be from?' food.

In Big Chef Takes On Little Chef (Ch4, Monday, 9pm), we saw the wacky 3 starred Michelin chef Heston Blumenthal, try to step in and save on of Britian's oldest eateries - Little Chef.
The company has been in dire straits, but new chief Ian Peglar wants Heston to invent a 'taste explosion' to entice new customers and titillate the old. Heston visits one outlet to sample dishes such as 'The Olympic' breakfast and the 'Mega Mix Grill', only to find the chicken 'dreadful' and the scrambled eggs straight out of the microwave. "Forget the glossy veneer," he says, "and let's get back to basics." A glossy veneer in Little Chef? Surely that can only be found on the skin of its custard.
Heston finds himself working in Little Chef kitchen only to find there are no pans or even a stove. He is reduced to just cooking on a griddle. "Don't forget to grease your ring." says his Little Chef co-worker.
Quite.
Later, Heston finally comes up with a new menu for the board of executives to sample: Scrambled eggs and salmon with essence of Earl Grey tea, Lancashire hot pot with lambs tongue, sweetbread and oyster, ham cooked in hay, followed by Chocolate ice-cream with mandarin aroma that is served as dry ice. The verdict? CEO Ian wants something that's more unusual. Unusual? If this Heston's grub isn't unusual, then I'm Marie Antoinette. What does he want that's unusual? Crushed glass en croute? Intestines on toast? Puma poo pavlova?
The next two installments, and, no doubt, riveting conclusions follow on Tuesday and Wednesday. Personally, I have some grass to watch growing. But don't tell Heston. He'll end up serving it as a starter.

Big Brother's surprise eviction show started with footage from the house. The voice-over, to a still picture of the bog door, said: "Verne is in the toilet." Verne, for those who don't know, is not even 3 feet high.
Why did no-one panic?
HE'S IN THE TOILET!!!
Emergency!
He'll never get out of the bowl!!!!!!!

Week commencing January 10th 2009

Is it me, or has Dancing On Ice (ITV 1, Sunday 7pm) turned into Stars In Their Eyes or rather Stars On Their Ice?

You've got Mr Nasty judge Jason Gardener as Freddie Mercury, Ruthie Henshaw as a cross between Nigella Lawson and Michelle (Kim Ryder) from Corrie and Robin Coussins as Daniel O' Donnell.
And it doesn't stop there.
Christopher Dean's a dead ringer for hairdresser Nicky Clarke and Holly Willerby isn't that far removed from Dolly Parton.
If you get my drift.
First up was Jeremy Edwards who went in looking like Rambo and came out looking like Julian Clary. He had that much make up on, it was hard to tell if he was the man or the woman. Do tone down the kohl liner love - just stick with the blush.
Next was undercover reporter Donal McIntyre. Good job he's taken up skating now as he can't be an undercover reporter anymore. We all know who he is.
Good old Tucker Jenkins gave a valiant attempt as a Weeble (they wobble but they don't fall down - yet) although Judge Freddie, er, Jason said "You move as if you've crapped yourself."
There's nothing like constructive criticism; but I wonder if he had...
And how many reality TV shows will Ray Quinn enter? For the love of god man, will you just get a career?

It's all fun and games in the Big Brother house (Channel 4, 9pm), but have you ever seen so many tattoos on one woman? Mutya has drawings on her legs, arms, shoulders and even neck. In fact, she doesn't keep a shopping list anymore, she just tattoos whatever she's run out of on the back of her hand.
Elsewhere, Tina bites her own toenails, Lucy has the most annoying monotone voiiiiiiiccceeeee, Coolio, whose hair resembles a wasp's antenae, just won't damn shut up and Ulrikakaka is going gagaga. Who shall we vote out and forget about forever? You decieeeeede...