Advent Calendar Day 20

'Sup. All sorted for Xmas yet? Well, not quite, because we've still got the chaff of the calendar to get through. Buckle up, and try not to weep blood.

Day 20

Impressions, Impressionists and

The Impressions Show

Ugh. Y'know, this is a lost art form. It used to be an entertaining little party trick back in 'the day', from the proto-satire-tinged-with-light-entertainment-for-the-grannies of Mike Yarwood to the (ahem) "rubber-faced lampoonery" (sigh) of Spitting Image; Chris Barrie dazzled with his off-the-cuff David Coleman, Ronald Reagan and more when not appearing on Red Dwarf or Spitting Image, Steve Nallon was brilliant during the Thatcher-drag era, even Rory Bremner's old BBC2 show wasn't too bad. However, time rolled on (as it does), Bremner moved to Channel 4 and turned into a bore, churning out the same tired old impressions of politicians, loosely wrapped around po-faced satire. Spitting Image died a natural death, and that bloke from the Gino Ginelli advert ventured into the mainstream along with Lee & Herring radio stalwart Ronni Ancona... and that's where it all started to go wrong. I don't dislike them at all, but the writing was on the wall as soon as they started doing the Beckhams. It was no longer a sharpened tool for satire, but had instead become the twat hammer of simple folk, tabloid readers, Heat subscribers and knuckle-draggers.

Dead Ringers managed to claw back some dignity to some degree, if only for Jon Culshaw's wonderful Tom Baker impression (which, as he demonstrated on a programme I forget, he could adapt from an equally brilliant Patrick Stewart) and the regular forays in 'classic' Doctor Who territory. But, the programme also had Jan "Hello I'm" Ravens. Every, and I mean every, impression she provided began with her introducing who she was supposed to be (probably because none of them looked or sounded like the target); very poor, very patronising. If you have to smack your audience in the face with a big obvious fucking clue as to who you're portraying, you're in the wrong bloody job.

Now we've got The Impressions Show, where the same format as Alistair McGowan's old show claws its way back out of the dirt. Depressingly, I've lost all respect for Jon Culshaw. I hate losing respect for people. I genuinely, genuinely like the guy, but when you start applying the phrase, "well, everyone has to eat, I suppose" to a TV programme, you haven't got much of a choice (a bit like those bloody Direct Line adverts I mentioned a couple of weeks back). It's all tabloid fodder again, television so safe it's got rounded corners and is covered in bubble wrap. And, you know, he's not even that good in it. Professor Brian Cox sounds nothing like Professor Brian Cox (the odd attempt at an accent and inflection aside), and, most disappointingly, he also attempts Pip Schofield. Whilst introducing himself. Because he looks and sounds nothing like him. Tch.

Tellingly, they also do The One Show. Badly. Lowest common denominator peas-in-a-pod fodder, a match made in feeble hell. Perhaps one day, we'll reclaim the lost noble art of impressionism from the stupid people who'll put up with anything, but somehow, due to the unique way the BBC ignore petitions and appease idiots, I doubt it. Bah.