6 Twins and a Psychopath

What an interesting 24 hours I've had.

When I say 'interesting', I mean 'mind-bogglingly devastating'.

So, where to begin? Well, my wife and I decided to have a party at our house. We've lived here for 3 years, and it's the first one we've had, so it's kind of a housewarming. One that's been in quarantine, and for good reason, as it turned out.

It was mainly a family affair, never intended to be anything other than a quiet night of drinking and company. One of the non-family members got increasingly worse for wear, and it would be really unfair of me to publish his list of misdemeanours throughout the night. So here they are:

• Smashing a bottle of Sambuca on my kitchen floor.
• Playing my wife's drumkit at extremely unsociable hours.
• Going to my bathroom to use my razor (ever so slightly creepy, no?).
• Grabbing my sister-in-law by the throat and calling her a c*nt.
• Tipping a bottle of supermarket brand Bailey's substitute over his face and, again, onto my kitchen floor.
• Pouring a bottle of vodka over me when I was minding my own business, nearly ruining my new sofa.
• Threw my daughter's pram down the stairs towards myself and some of my wife's family.
• Refused to leave when I threatened to call the police on him.
• Nearly put my kitchen window through.
• Called my mother-in-law some very nasty names to her face.
• After being thrown out by myself, he returned at about 3 in the morning, and when I refused to let him in, he said "you're nothing. Get a fucking job."
• Called me a c*nt several times, very loudly, from my front gate when I told him to piss off.

I'm sure my neighbours were delighted.

He's got a point about the job, but I'd like to play the "people in glass houses" card, since he's never actually had one. I am actually trying to find work, but after 10 years of almost continuous employment, I'm finding it really difficult to remedy this. People unfortunate enough to know me know that I want to be a writer (one of the reasons I made this blog is because I love writing, and I hope it shows), but it's not that simple. It never is.

So, after ejecting a drunken, violent psychopath from my abode last night (twice), I apologise if this blog is a little depressing. I'm not in a great mood. Normal service will return soon.

My mood is so bad, I actually watched X Factor tonight, despite my own warnings in an earlier blog entry. I have no idea what the contestants' names are, apart from those twins. These were my observations:

• Simon Cowell has a perfectly rectangular head.
• It's great that Brian May doesn't have a single grey hair at his age. How does he do it?
• There was a child in a shirt made of red and black UDG pixels from the Spectrum era, who had a very weak voice and performance, so he'll probably go far.
• One of the contestants (the one who looks like he belongs in mid-80s era Neighbours as one of Scott and Charlene's friends) somehow cracked his knuckle. They very coyly brushed over how this happened. He sang "Don't Stop Me Now", which was most inapt. The frustration of a week's worth of having his favourite hand in bandages was quite clear. Dannii Minogue called him (and several others) the best performer in the competition. I must call your bluff, Minogue, for you yourself know you are talking bollocks.
• It's the worst X-Men spin-off I've ever seen, but would benefit from an appearance by Apocalypse. However, Simon Cowell is looking more like Mr Sinister every time I see him.

• Roger Taylor claims that one of the contestants has the most soul in the competition. Roger, he's an X Factor contestant, ergo by this stage, he has no soul.
• Another soulless drone is Cheryl Cole. Every time I see her, why do I get the impression she was a school bully?
• Freddie Mercury's spinning in his grave. The gentle rotation of a cadaver is more tuneful than anything I heard on the show.
• Dermot O'Leary was walking around like he'd had a little accident.
• I wonder which one of the twins will go through puberty first.
• "We met Queen. The band. We didn't meet the Queen," burbles John or Edward. Thanks for clearing that up, Child of the Damned.
• The twins' performance evoked memories of PJ and Duncan, and their jackets really made me want to roast a chicken.
• It's dreadful that Queen and David Bowie covered a Vanilla Ice song.
• Louis Walsh claims that the twins appeal to 'the kids'. Um... which kids, exactly? Emo kids looking for that one final excuse to actually cut their wrists this time?
• I wasn't sure which one was which. It turns out that John is the smug, squeaky one, and Edward is the squeaky, smug one.

• I'm looking forward to Cradle of Filth week.
• John and Edward isn't a very catchy name. I suggest Arse Over Tit.
• I'm pretty sure Cowell drank some Polyjuice Potion at one point after the twins performed.
• We Are The Champions was a great show, and it was nice that Queen wrote a song about it. It's interesting to note that host Ron Pickering died in the same year as Freddie Mercury.
• "No time for losers," as one of the lyrics in that song mentions, but I could see plenty of them.

Apparently, Shaky-Ra is on tomorrow's show. I shall not be watching. Once was enough. One bright point was Calvin Harris being thrown out of the studio when he invaded the stage when the twins were on, with a pineapple strapped to his head. Genius.

I stupidly left ITV1 on following the Karaoke Show, and what star-studded show did they have to offer? Piers Morgan! Vinnie Jones! Time to turn over!

BBC1... The Impressions Show With Culshaw and That One From Opportunity Knocks. The only talented impressionist from the mercifully dead Dead Ringers, Culshaw has a 70% hit rate with spot-on impressions, which is great. His Ross Kemp is weak, but his Gordon Brown and Tom Baker (when he does it) are spot on. It's the inverse Rory Bremner (the man who, when he appears on any panel show, is miraculously handed impressions rounds). They are two sides of the same coin, and it cannot be a coincidence that they look so similar.

Rory Bremner, despite being perhaps a slightly better impressionist, is not funny. You only have to watch him on Mock the Week or early Whose Line Is It Anyway? to see that all he ever does, all he ever has done, is perform a reasonably current, albeit impressive, impression, usually of a politician, but the material itself is dire. To call it comedy is stretching it a bit. Culshaw is a very impressive impressionist, and has a genuine sense of humour about him. As I said, some of his impressions need a bit of work, but he, at least, keeps the majority of his stuff away from politics. Perhaps the fact that we don't really have any politicians of note any more has led to Bremner's stuff seeming very tired.

As for Culshaw's new show, it's pretty much The Big Impression 2.0. Its strength versus Dead Ringers is that you don't have hangers-on (*cough*Jan Ravens*cough) stating who they're supposed to be at the start of every 'sketch'. However, the material itself is pretty weak, but this is Saturday Night Television we're talking about here, aimed at the sort of people that the BBC thinks makes up its viewers. I only ventured into it tonight on a whim... shan't do something so reckless again. I just hope he does his best impression, the Fourth Doctor, every now and again. That might be enough to tempt me to watch it. I'll be watching the real thing tomorrow night, during which I'll have a geekgasm. You have been warned.

Now, to catch up with the mighty The Thick Of It on iPlayer. In the meantime, please take time to follow my blog in the link at the top of the page. Have a lovely day/night/evening/pie (delete as appropriate).

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