We've Moved

We've moved here:

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Wordpress is a much better program than Blogger and more flexible.

See you over there. Remember to turn the lights out when you leave.

PS: I'm the dick in the sunglasses. My little brother is the cute one with the blonde hair. I've no idea who the other two are. I think they're in Travis now.

Charlie Mingles
xxx

Gay Milk

Here's a typical scene from my life ...

TWO ORDINARY 30-SOMETHING MEN, TOM AND CHARLIE, ARE STANDING IN THE SUPERMARKET ENTRANCE.

TOM: I’ve just got to pop in here for a minute, get a couple of things.

CHARLIE: It’s alright. I’ll come in with you.

THEY ENTER THE SUPERMARKET AND TOM GRABS A HAND BASKET.

TOM GRABS VARIOUS ITEMS OFF THE SHELVES AS THEY WALK ALONG.

CHARLIE: Oh! Actually, I need some milk.

HE POPS SOME MILK INTO TOM’S BASKET.

TOM: (LOOKING AROUND TO SEE IS ANYONE’S WATCHING) What are you doing?

CHARLIE: What?

TOM: Can you not get your own basket?

CHARLIE: It’s just milk. I’ll give you the money.

TOM: It’s not the money. It’s …

CHARLIE: What?

TOM: (WHISPERING) I don’t want your ‘Gay Milk’ in my basket. What are people going to think?

CHARLIE: Don’t be ridiculous.

TOM: Well, come on. Two guys … shopping together … buying milk.

CHARLIE: You’re right. I think I saw it in that Frankie Goes to Hollywood video.

TOM: Alright, alright. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

CHARLIE: Just a wee bit.

TOM: Sorry. Forget I said anything.

CHARLIE: No problem.

THEY PASS BY THE CD’S.

CHARLIE: Now, what else do I need. (NOTICING) Oh, look! Barbra Streisand’s Greatest Hits.

TOM STORMS OFF.

CHARLIE: What?!

It's Comedy Jim ... But Not as We Know It.

Simon Pegg to be the new Scottie? I don't think so. If you're going to do it, go the whole way and make him properly Scottish. I give you ...

Davie Donaldson, Star Trek Officer

WE ARE ON THE ENGINEERING DECK OF THE USS ENTERPRISE.

DAVIE DONALDSON, A FAT UNSHAVEN ENGINEERING OFFICER STAGGERS IN, HUNG-OVER.

ENGINEERING CHIEF: Donaldson, you’re late.

DONALDSON:(Scottish) I’m not late, sir. (thinking quick) It’s …eh, it’s actually just a temporal shift in the space-time continuum – warping time and so creating the illusion that I’m late.

CHIEF: My God! That’s the third time this week.

DONALDSON: Aye, I’m actually eight hours early. In fact (HE LOOKS AT HIS WATCH) – that’s me finished for the day, sir. If you’ll excuse me!

HE TURNS TO GO.

CHIEF: I must say Donaldson, ever since you came on board, the number of temporal anomalies has increased greatly. And they all seem to be centred around you.

DONALDSON: Aye, I often have that effect. Something to do with the static charge in my nylon socks. I set off burglar alarms too.

CHIEF: Fascinating.

DONALDSON: Happens all the time, dinnae worry about it. Anyway, I’m off for some kip. Long hard day and all that. (PRODUCES A BOTTLE OF WHISKY AND STARTS SWIGGING FROM IT)

CHIEF: Oh, by the way! (HE HOLDS UP A PAIR OF MANKY Y-FRONTS) I notice you left a pair of your pants to dry over the main engineering consol. That’s against Star Fleet regulations.

DONALDSON: Once again, sir, there must be some temporal anomaly. A misalignment of the tacheon flux capacitors, perhaps.

THE CHIEF LOOKS ROUND AT EVERYONE. THEY LOOK AWAY, SHRUGGING THEIR SHOULDERS.

CHIEF: Ah, yes. Of course.

DONALDSON: An easy mistake to make, sir. Yes, because my pants are actually pressed and folded in the cupboard along with my spare uniform. As a Star Fleet Officer, presentation is all important. (HE WIPES HIS NOSE ON HIS SLEEVE)

CHIEF: I do apologise, Mr Donaldson. I’ll run a level 5 diagnostic immediately.

DONALDSON: Nae bother. Now, if you’ll excuse me sir, I’ll be in my cabin going over some technical data – we’ve got to beat this thing.

CHIEF: You’re a first rate officer, Donaldson.

DONALDSON: And remember, if somebody happens to see me in the bookies on Holodeck 5 – it’s just an illusion. Got it!

HE LEAVES.

CHIEF: Okay, you heard the man. I want all hands on deck. Let’s take this ship apart until we find what’s causing it. There goes one brave officer! A tribute to Star Fleet!

Tales Of Brave Ullysses - #1

I was in Dixons at the weekend, attempting to get served. Ever so slightly exaggerated, but it went something like this ...

AN ORDINARY ELECTRICAL STORE. A QUIET RESPECTABLE MAN IS BROWSING THE COMPUTERS.

MARJORY, AN OVER-EAGER ASSISTANT POPS UP.

MARJORY: Ah! The PZ3. Lovely machine, sir. I’ve got one myself. Excellent choice.

MAN: Oh, no, it’s fine, really. I’m just looking at the moment.

MARJORY: No problem, sir.

THE MAN MOVES ON TO LOOK AT ANOTHER COMPUTER.

MARJORY POPS UP AGAIN.

MARJORY: Ah! Well. The Z33 Alpa. Now this is a marvelous piece of kit, sir. I’ve got this one myself.

MAN: This one too?

MARJORY: Yes, sir. In the kitchen. In case I need to go ‘online’ – as we say in the business, and download one of Delia’s recipes.

MAN: Yes, well, as I said, I’m just looking at the moment but –

MARJORY: I can get one of the lads to help you carry it to the car, sir. It’s no trouble.

MAN: Well, of course, I’m not actually buying anything today, but thank you –

MARJORY: How will you be paying, sir? Cash or credit card? I’d guess you’re more of credit card type of gentleman. Cash is sooo vulgar, isn’t it?

SHE GRABS ONE OF HER MALE COLLEAGUES, DAVIE, A SCRAWNY TEENAGER.

MARJORY: Davie! Could you carry this Z33 Alpha up to the till for the gentleman.

MAN: No. I think there’s been a little bit of a misunderstanding here. I’m not actually purchasing anything today. I’m just browsing.

MARJORY: It’s no trouble, sir. Davie’s a big strong lad. Show him your muscles, Davie.

DAVIE STARTS TO ROLL UP HIS SLEEVE.

MAN: Excuse me! But you’re just not listening to me! I am not purchasing anything today, thank you! I am just browsing!

MARJORY: (FLOUNCING OFF) No need to be like that, sir.

CAPTION: A week later.

WE ARE BACK IN THE SAME SHOP AND THE SAME MAN COMES IN AGAIN.HE GOES UP TO THE COMPUTERS AGAIN AND SEES THE ONE HE WANTS. HE GOES TO ATTRACT THE ATTENTION OF AN ASSISTANT.

MAN: Excuse me!

IT IS MARJORY AGAIN.

MARJORY: Oh! It’s you.

MAN: Oh, hello again. Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I am buying today. The Z33 Alpa. Top of the range.

HE GOES TO GIVE HER HIS CREDIT CARD.

MARJORY: Oh, it’s fine now, isn’t it. Now you’ve decided you want to buy something, I’m supposed to come running like your wee doggie.

SHE DOES A LITTLE EXCITED DOGGIE IMPRESSION.

MARJORY: Oh, pleeeze let me sell you a computer, sir. Pleeeeeze! Well, you had your chance last week. But you wernae interested.

MAN: I didn’t have any money last week.

MARJORY: That old chestnut. How many times have I heard that one. ‘I was only browsing, Marjory!’ ‘How did you get my pin number, Marjory?’ ‘You’ve forged my name on the credit card slip, Marjory’ Oh, I’ve heard them all, sir.

MAN: Well, none the less I am here to buy.

MARJORY: Nope! Not listening.

MAN: But, surely there’s been some –

MARJORY: (FINGERS IN HER EARS, MAKING NOISES SO SHE CANT HEAR) Mmmmmmnnnnnnnn! Na na na na na na na na na! Mmmmmm!

MAN: Come on now. You’re just being silly.

SHE CONTINUES WITH FINGERS IN EARS.

THE MAN WALKS OFF TO FIND ANOTHER ASSISTANT. HE FINDS DAVIE, THE YOUNG GUY.

MAN: Ah! Hello again. Look, I’m really interested in the Z33 Alpa. (HE GOES TO HAND OVER CREDIT CARD) So if you could just –

FROM ACROSS THE SHOP WE HEAR MARJORY SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HER VOICE.

MARJORY: Don’t you dare, Davie! I’ll have your bollocks on my mantlepiece!

DAVIE SHRUGS A ‘SORRY’ AND RUNS OFF. THE MAN TURNS TO ANOTHER ASSISTANT, BUT BEFORE HE CAN UTTER A WORD MARJORY’S FACE APPEARS ON A WALL OF TV SETS, LIKE SOME OMNIPRESENT DEMONIC GOD.

MARJORY: Don’t you dare!

THE ASSISTANT RUNS OFF AND ALL THE OTHER ASSISTANTS COWER IN FEAR.THE MAN GIVES UP AND LEAVES THE SHOP.

CUT BACK TO MARJORY IN THE COMPUTER SECTION.

A GENTLE OLD LADY IS LOOKING AT A MACHINE.

MARJORY: Ah! The K300. Excellent beast, madam. I’ve got one myself. And how will you be paying?

Geoffrey Perkins 1953- 2008

If like me, you're a really big comedy fan, there are few moments in life more memorable and enjoyable than sitting in front of the tv or radio watching or listening to your favourite show.

The name Geoffrey Perkins came up at the end of so many of these shows for me, that I started to remember the name - not something as a young comedy fan I would ever do consciously. But he just produced so many great shows that the name stuck. And over the years, hearing the writers and actors involved in many of his projects talking, they always spoke of how inspiring, creative and instinctive he was about comedy - and how he still maintained that infectious boyish enthusiasm for his craft throughout everything he did.

There really are very few exceptionally-talented people involved in any endeavour and perhaps moreso in comedy, which is so hard to get right even once. But he got it right on so many occassions. Of course, he started off as a writer/performer and his first big hit was as one of the stars of Radio Active on Radio 4, alongside Angus Deayton. But, it's undoubtedly as a creative producer that he's made his biggest mark. Some of the many shows he is responsible for producing or bringing to the screen as BBC Head of Comedy include:

The Royle Family

The League of Gentlemen

Harry Enfield's Television Programme

The Fast Show

Then there's:
Father Ted - as director of Hat Trick Productions.
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy - as producer of the original Radio 4 series.

On top of all that, he's the guy who created Mornington Crescent for 'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue.'

None of those shows, all iconic British comedy institutions in their own right, would have been the same, and many of them might not have existed at all, without the skill, passion and enthusiasm of Geoffrey Perkins.

All of us who love great comedy can remember as children, teenagers and adults, the great pleasure of watching our favourite shows and the joy of enthusiastically re-living our favourite scenes the next day with our friends - surely one of the greatest simple pleasures in life. Some very rare people can keep that enthusiasm going throughout their life, using it to create great comedy and enthuse other people.

I never met him, but I feel sure he must have loved what he did, because he did it so very very well for so very very long. And in amongst the sadness, there has to be celebration for a life well lived.

Thanks for all the great moments. Truly.

Lost In Austen

In a frankly cynical attempt to cash in on the upcoming new ITV1 drama series Lost In Austen, I present a couple of my radio sketches from years ago ...

Those Charming Bennet Girls - #1

FX: 18th Century chamber music.

MAN: (posh, Pride & Prejudice) Mr Bennet, may I introduce Mr Dingley who is newly arrived in these parts from London …(whispering) …in search of a wife!

DINGLEY: Good day to you, sir.

MR BENNET: And to you, Dingley. Allow me to introduce my daughters – Elizabeth, Betty, Liz, Eliza, Bessie, Beth, Betsie, Liza and my eldest, Lizzie.

DINGLEY: Charmed.

FX: The Bennet girls giggle.

DINGLEY: I am told sir that the Bennet girls are all accomplished at needlepoint.

BENNET: Indeed sir.

DINGLEY: Do they read also?

BENNET: Reading sir? My girls? Why, they are half-wits. Like their mother. That is their charm. Why Lizzie once saw a book and had to be put to bed for a week.

DINGLEY: Indeed sir. How delightful.

BENNET: I'll have you know, that my library is guarded 24-hours a day – by a servant with a shotgun. Should one of the poor creatures so much as stray towards it, he has been instructed to fire a warning shot over her head.

DINGLEY: An attitude which does you credit sir.

FX: More giggling.

BENNET: Ah! I see a colleague. If you would excuse me for a moment, Dingley. My eldest, Lizzie, shall entertain you.

DINGLEY: My pleasure, sir.

LIZZIE: So Mr Dingley, how are you enjoying the country life?

DINGLEY: The view is lovely. Particularly from where I’m standing at the moment.

FX: Giggling from the other girls.

LIZZIE: Indeed sir. You are too kind.

DINGLEY: Not at all. The kindness is all yours, the kindness in allowing me to gaze on such … rare beauty.

FX: Hysterical giggling from her little sisters.

LIZZIE: Sisters, please! Sir, your tongue does charm me indeed.

DINGLEY: Not at all. It is my pleasure to have the company of such –

FX: He is interrupted by the other girls giggling.

LIZZIE: Pray continue sir.

DINGLEY: I was merely remarking that it was my –

FX: More giggling.

LIZZIE: Excuse me for a moment, Mr Dingley. LISTEN! WILL YOU LOT SHUT IT! CAN'T SEE I’M TRYING TO GET A RIDE, HERE? Sorry, sir. Pray continue …

FX: Giggling and end coda of chamber music.

Those Charming Bennet Girls - #2

BENNET: Watch Dingley! See how the creature dances to the music. It’s almost as if she understands what’s happening. (He makes whistling noises like on “One Man And His Dog’) Come by girl! Come by!

DINGLEY: Charming, sir. And this, Eliza, would be your … youngest daughter?

BENNET: That’s right Dingley. Just sixteen and as thick as her mother.

DINGLEY: Indeed sir.

BENNET: Why she is so dizzy she cannot even find the drawing room in her own home – and has to be led there by servants.

DINGLEY: How delightful. Tell me sir. Young Eliza. In temperament, is she anything like her sisters?

BENNET: Exactly sir.

DINGLEY: Ah! I see.

BENNET: I notice Dingley, that in the past week you’ve caught the eye of many of my daughters – all fourteen, in fact.

DINGLEY: Yes sir.

BENNET: But, none of them, alas, seems to have pleased you.

DINGLEY: Not at all. They are all quite charming. It is merely that I am …

BENNET: Do they not dance as well as society ladies?

DINGLEY: No sir. They dance admirably well.

BENNET: Do they not play piano? Needlepoint? Why they can even eat with a knife and fork sir. What more do you want?

DINGLEY: Mr Bennet, I …

BENNET: Do you drink from the other side of the glass?

DINGLEY: I beg your pardon?

BENNET: Do you bat for the other side?

DINGLEY: I’m sorry sir. I don’t undertand what you’re –

BENNET: Do you wear your trousers backwards? Have you a friend in the town? Do you approach the racecourse from an all together diff-er-ent angle?

DINGLEY: Sir, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re –

BENNET: Do I have to spell it out for you man? DO YOU TAKE IT UP THE A–

DINGLEY: Aaaah! I see sir. I understand. No, no. Quite the opposite.

BENNET: Glad to hear it. I don’t have any boys. Just daughters I’m afraid. I do have a younger brother – but I only use him in emergencies. I do have a cousin Bethany however. She might fit the bill.

DINGLEY: Indeed. Is she pretty?

BENNET: In an ape-like fashion, yes. If looking like an ape could be deemed pretty then she’s a stunner sir.

DINGLEY: Right, well perhaps then, if you have any other cousins …?

BENNET: Afraid not.

DINGLEY: Or younger sisters?

BENNET: No.

DINGLEY: Right, well, in that case, ehm .. I … Oh, forget it! Shove it up your arse, Bennet! I’m going back to London to smoke opium and live with some prostitutes.

FX: End coda of chamber music.

Have You Got The X Factor?

(Top: Have You Got The X Factor? Above: Sharon Osbourne. The Wicked Witch of the West Country)

Across the land, chicken factory workers, world-weary nine-year-olds and old men with young hair, will once more be queuing down the yellow brick road outside various regional TV stations. The X Factor is back.

Who will make it to Emerald City bootcamp and eventually win? Will it be the lovely 80-year-old lady who sings quivery songs from the last war? The precocious teen with the conveniently-timed personal tragedy? ( ‘I hear your entire family just died in a car crash on the way to this audition. Well done for carrying on. Just pop the wire-cutters on the floor and tell us what you’ll be singing’) Or will it be the cute 19-year-old with the nice bottom? It’s a completely open contest, as they keep telling us.

As part of my extensive research on the show, last week I went to see a fortune teller and she told me, ‘In 2006 the winner's name was Leona. In 2007 it was Leon. In 2008, watch out for someone called Leo.’ (My Great Uncle Leo is 84-years-old and resides in a maximum security twilight home - but I’ve got £200 on him to win the final, just in case. )

180,000 people applied this year and the kindest act of euthanasia is always when Simon Cowell tells some starry-eyed teen with no discernable talent to give up chasing the dream. It never works of course, but God bless him for trying. Along with Simon on the judging panel, we still have grumpy munchkin Louis Walsh and failed Aussie popster Dannii Minogue.

As usual, at some point Simon will suck on his pen and make the following comments:

1. You might be something special.

2. This competition needs someone like you.
3. I really really like you, you know.

At which point, he's done talking to himself in the mirror and leaves the house for the X Factor studios.

Sharon Osbourne has gone of course, to be replaced by Girls Aloud’s Cheryl Cole. What really happened to The Evil Witch of The West Country has never been revealed, but here at Tales From An Empty Room we can give you an exclusive. Apparantly Louis Walsh threw a glass of holy water at her and she melted into a giant puddle of dog shit – which Ozzy then stepped in, saying ‘Aaah, those fookin’ dogs. Shaaaaron!’

Some highlights from week one:

Rachel, a 26-year-old singer who had the first of her 5 kids when she was just 13 and has a background of drugs and prison. She was a very likeable larger-than-life character and thank God she had a good voice as you could see Simon’s fruit-machine-eyes roll back into his head with the tabloid potential.

And then there was 16-year-old Alexandra from Bridgend, hoping the recent spate of teenage suicides in the area would help her singing career.

And one of many lowpoints, Welsh brothers Ant & Seb who looked and sounded like Baz and Dave from The Fat Slags cartoon in Viz magazine. Baz could sing a bit, so as he gave us Peter Andre’s ‘Mysterious Girl’, Dave accompanied him with what I suppose was meant to be rapping. Unfortunately for all concerned it sounded more like he was experiencing a bout of Tourette’s Syndrome, performed in a Welsh-Jamaican accent.

Some people prefer these early rounds so you can laugh at all the crap singers. I get pretty bored with all that after a while and much prefer the later rounds when we arrive at bootcamp and start to get to know the people involved. After seeing them every week for three or four months you really do start to care about whether they win or lose and it’s easy to get swept along on the emotional rollercoaster of their journey. But, isn’t that the whole point?

Last Christmas I sat with tears in my eyes as Leon and Rhydian and Co sang their hearts out in the final. I thought Leon was great. A really genuine guy and a worthy winner. However, a few weeks later, I turned on my telly and saw some gurning little twat warbling his way through a turgid Number One single. Could this be the same little Leon I’d championed just a few weeks earlier? Of course it was. He hadn’t changed, I had.

It’s the singing equivalent of soap operas. Have you ever come back from a long holiday and turned on your favourite soap only to think, ‘What a load of shit.’ We get so caught up in it all, we often lose our critical faculties.

But that’s all part of the glorious experience that is The X Factor. It’s not just the contestants that go on the journey – it’s us lot too. Oh yes, hang onto your pigtails. You’re not in Kansas anymore.

The Dark Knight - Shitting On The Audience From A Great Height

Surely when you're planning to re-create an esteemed comic book franchise on screen you first need to decide what sort of universe you're striving to create.Will it be other-wordly and fantastical like an actual comic book. Or will you try and shoehorn in tedious contemporary references in the hope you'll be taken seriously.

Batman Director Christopher Nolan couldn't make his mind up, so he's gone for both.

So we get Christian Bale's Batman and Heath Ledger's Joker appearing in different movies, but sharing the same screen. It seems Nolan must have told Heath Ledger they wanted it edgy and real like a proper psychopath. But appears to have forgotten that he's playing up against A MAN IN A BLACK RUBBER SUIT who's apparantly just stumbled in from the Village People video they're making on the set next-door. And who has further decided to camp it up by borrowing the voice of Barry White - The Walrus of Love and, now it seems, Masked Crimefighting.

If Ledger had given this jittery psycho shtick in another movie, a standard child-killer thriller type of affair, maybe it could have worked. But he's playing against A MAN IN A RUBBER SUIT who, when he's not flying through the air encased in rubber, is the rest of the time sipping champagne on Duran Duran's Yaught with big-titted ballerinas.

Have you ever met a ballerina? I have (extra work, years ago) and big-titted is not how you'd ever describe them. Bony, twitchy, chain-smoking, torn-faced and, mostly Russian. Yes. Big & Titty. No.

I don't ever remember Dame Margot Fontaine being invited to appear in Razzle. Though, I'll freely admit I don't have the complete set. Not as yet.

Anyway, whilst these two muppets were busy starring in two different films, the director was busy making yet another movie, packed with naive leaden Guatanamo and 911 references.

Okay Chris, we get the idea. You don't like Bush, you don't believe in the war, you don't like all this surveillance. What a brave maverick, out there on his own, saying it like it is, sticking it to the Man ... making 100 million dollar franchise-driven movies. That'll show 'em.

Anyway, as if the average Batman viewer (the 12 -year-old boys sitting behind us who clapped at the end) could give a fuck about all that.

Maybe it's possible to convincingly weave realism into a film about a billionaire who shags big-titted Russian ballerinas and dresses in rubber to save the people. But you'd need a far better leading man, script and director than this to make it convincing.

Also, I found Heath Ledger's performance way too disturbing. For all the wrong reasons. It was like watching someone having a nervous breakdown on screen. I guess the film maybe came along at a fateful time for him, and playing a man on the edge wasn't much of a stretch.

However, I suspect if he'd been cast in Mamma Mia instead of Batman, we might well have got the same performance. Not quite so appropriate perhaps, but probably far more entertaining than this big pile of shit.

And it'd be worth it just to see his rendition of 'Does Your Mother Know That You're Out' in full mad hair and clown make-up.

Or did Meryl Streep do that already? I haven't seen this one yet, so don't spoil it for me.

Sound And Fury - The Life Of A Reluctant Genius

Esteemed Music Journalist Anthony De Laney takes time away from writing for the quality newspapers to give us a weekly extract from his up-and-coming autobiography ... 'My LIfe As a Genius.'

I think it was whilst listening to a Yes album that I first realised the extraordinary depth of my genius.

Despite being just 14-years-old, tone-deaf and knowing virtually nothing of the band – I was still, remarkably, able to come up with a terribly clever review of their masterwork ‘Close the the Edge’. I even managed to throw in a knowing reference to Nietzsche, and I was thoroughly pleased with myself.

I remember I was reading a lot of Nietzsche at the time. He has since come to be a source of enormous comfort to me in recent years, particularly during the Van Morrison interviews. But more of those later.

I remember too the keen sense of destiny it engendered in me when I read the piece back to myself and said, 'My Sweet Lord, I'm a blooming genius!'

Unfortunately, those first halting words which were to be the literary Phoenix to ignite an entire firebrand generation have since been lost to posterity. I wrote it on the back of my trigonometry homework and then handed it in, failing with a C - (It's graphs, I'm no bloody good at graphs. I kept telling Mrs Fairbrass, but she took no notice.)

But trigonometry's loss was literature's gain.

If onIy I had preserved the piece, what delightful nuggets it may have summoned forth. Alas, It was not until considerably later that I started framing my reviews and housing them in their own purpose-built temperature-controlled walk-in eco-pod - a decision which really has been an enormous success.

Of course, occassionally one of my children will josh me a little over it.

‘Daddy, do I really need to wear a paper mask and cotton gloves to enter the room?'

‘Dad, can’t we pleez turn it into another bedroom? I’m sick of sharing with James - I’m 19.’

‘Dad, do we really have to commemorate the date you wrote your first review with a torchlit family procession through the streets? All the neighbours are staring at us.'

And other such nonsense.

But I’m sure, as they get older, their understanding of the importance of such an archive will grow.

After all, isn’t it reassuring to know that such pieces as my interview with Kevin Ayres about his musical based on the life of Roy Hattersley can be preserved for the reading pleasure of future generations?

(And so long as they take their shoes off when entering the room and don the white cotton ‘praise’ robes provided – it’s a thoroughly straightforward process.)

Of course, some people may find this approach perhaps a tad self-congratulatory. But there are always these sad, bitter, deluded types in any industry and the best we can do is ignore them and humbly move on.

Next week Anthony reveals how interviewing Van Morrison brought him to the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Doberman Unleashed

With the Ingmar Bergman Season starting on Film 4 next week, we asked modern intellectual and Harry Enfield sidekick Frank Doberman to give us his views on one of the great auteurs ...

Well, of course I admire Bergman, who doesn't.

I applaud the way he can conjure an entirely unique cinematic universe from delicate light & magic. And that even the quality of his silences are, like Kurosawa, both distinct and numinously evocative.

However, if I was in B&Q, of a saturday afternoon, picking out some new decking with the wife and he arrived and started stripping down to his nuddies, causing a ruccuss, over-turning pot plants and jumping on tables in that Swedish way they do, I would have to say, 'Oi! Bergman! NOOOOO!

'I admire the way you have inspired a generation of filmakers to paint the moving leitmotif of alienation and loss onto the fragile canvas of reality.

'But if you think you can come over here, stroll into my local superstore and shit in my plant pots, you've got another think coming, YOU BOSS-EYED HERRING-BREATHED VIKING PONCE!!!

And I should most definitely have to give him an almighty slap!

Doberman Unleashed

We're very grateful here at TALES to have the renowned modern philosopher Frank Doberman, who has agreed be a regular contributor to the site, giving us the benefit of his vast knowledge on people and current events. Mr Enfield, if you read this, please don't sue me.

First off, Modernist Composer Philip Glass ...

Don’t get me wrong – I admire Glass! His particular brand of Minimalist music is both moving and sublime.

But, if he was to come round my ‘ouse, in the middle of the night, and record over all my Phil Collins cassettes with his poncey bleeps and farts and what have you – I would have to say, ‘Oi Glass! No!

‘I admire the way you can weave both hypnotic and elegaic musical structures from the most basic atonal forms whilst at the same time nodding contrapunctually towards both Bach and Schubert.

‘But you’re having a laugh if you think you can break into my ‘ouse in the middle of the night, fumble through my wife’s undies and shit on the dining room carpet, YOU BIG-NOSED, TONE-DEAF, MOP-TOPPED YANKEE FUCKWIT!!!'

And I would most definitely have to give him an almighty slap!