UP Doctor Who
It is the topic that dominates every discussion that isn't already dominated
by Barack Obama, Jonathan Ross or what to have for tea (baked potatoes, or a
nice chop?). And that topic is: who is to be the new Who?
Since David Tennant announced his Tardis resignation last week, to the sound
of a million wailing ladyfolk, the media has been in something of a dilemma.
Despite the new Doctor being due to appear on our screens on Christmas Day
2009 - the blink of an eye in TV terms - no real favourite has been tipped
for the role. The BBC is resolutely not leaking any future Time Lord-based
information. As a result, the net of speculation is starting to resemble one
of those six-mile-wide, deep-sea dragnets that conservationists want banned
because they keep accidentally hoovering up whales, dolphins, French nuclear
submarines, etc.
In the dying months of 2008, pretty much anyone is game for being fingered as
the next Time Lord. So far, those linked to the role have included: Lenny
Henry, Stephen Fry, Eddie Izzard, James Nesbitt, Alan Davies, Tom Ellis,
Richard Armitage, Russell Brand, Russell Tovey, Billie Piper, Joanna Lumley,
John Simm, Catherine Tate, The Culture Show presenter Lauren Laverne and a
French nuclear submarine. Daring conversations are being had on the Doctor's
very nature: perhaps he could be black! A woman! Someone who has already
appeared in the series as a wholly different character!
As far as Celebrity Watch can see, the only people not linked to the part are
Kirsty Wark, Howard from the Halifax adverts and the late Arthur Negus, of
The Antiques Roadshow. CW does, however, have a bit of a hunch about the
future Doctor. After all, the next series is being written and
executive-produced by Steven Moffat - who, before he started winning Baftas,
and wielding the power of a god, used to write the children's drama Press
Gang. CW, for one, is slipping down Paddy Power, inquiring about the odds on
the next Doctor, and putting a quiet pony on Dexter Fletcher.
UP Barack Obama
It's not been a bad week for Obama, what with becoming the most powerful man
in the world on the back of a landslide vote, making Jesse Jackson cry,
successfully putt ing off getting a puppy until he has a staff of 3,000-plus
to train it, etc. Butquestion marks remain over his early years. Is he
really a radical? A Muslim? Or could there be something bigger still? For CW
has noticed a startling, nay astonishing, resemblance between the British
actor Jaye Davidson (the star of The Crying Game and Stargate, last known
role, 1996) and Barack Obama (elected to the Illinois Senate, in 1996!)
Look! Obama even seems to bear traces of the fierce, directional eyeliner
from both of Davidson's big roles! If someone doesn't get the
President-elect of the United States of America a good eye make-up remover soon,
he might have some serious explaining to do.
UP Donna Air
The former Big Breakfast presenter revealed this week that the most famous
people's numbers she has on her mobile phone are “Elton and David”, but adds
- lest you wish to steal her phone, ring up Elton John and sob “I love
Crocodile Rock. No one will ever write a better song about crocodiles” -
that you would “never find them, though, because they're coded”. CW feels
sure that Air isn't the only person to have celebrities' phone numbers in
code. After all, CW stores Elton under “Plumber (Paul)”, David Beckham under
“Library”, Barack Obama under “Bertie's dad's mobile”, while the Pope is
cunningly cloaked in anonymity as “Train info”.
UP The Jogging Shrimp
It is heartening to reflect on how technology has altered the nature of fame.
In the 4th century BC Alexander the Great had to conquer most of the known
world, and slaughter thousands, to achieve international fame; in 2008 a
non-raping, non-pillaging crustacean has gained global notoriety just by
jogging. In a typical day at the office, scientists put a shrimp (“Prawna
Radcliffe”, perhaps?) on a tiny treadmill and filmed it jogging; the clip
has been seen by more than 1.5 million viewers on YouTube. CW has devised a
workout tape for the microscopic megastar, including: Prawn to Run, Shrimply
the Best and Eye of the Tiger (Prawn).
UP Heather Mills
You've got to love Heather Mills. Not, to be fair, so much that you want her
married to (and ruining the life of) a Beatle - but certainly enough to hope
that the cheerfully bobbing cork raft of her existence is never fatally
holed, then sunk. No fewer than six million cheers, then, for Mills during
her latest struggle - this time against Rother District Council, which is
demanding that she concrete over her £1 million swimming pool because
she built it without planning permission. Wholly undaunted, Mills has come
up with what is, clearly, the best reason ever for a local council not to
concrete over your £1 million pool. “In an emergency,” said her agent, David
Bailey, “it could be used by the fire brigade” - to douse fires in the local
village.
CW likes this excuse, and thinks that it has great potential. Presumably, on a
similar basis, CW could stockpile a mighty mound of hydrocone, buprenophine,
oxycodone, acetyldihydrocodeine, oxymorphone, desomorphine,
diacetylmorphine, nicomorphine, methadone, tramadol and bezitramide - on the
basis that the Whittington Hospital's A&E department might run out at
some point, and appreciate a bit of a “lend”.
UP Richard Madeley
Last week CW reported the disheartening news that the cable show Richard &
Judy's New Position was a bit off its food, and was floating to the top of
the TV ratings tank - having registered a mere 21,000 viewers by last
Friday. However, wherever God closes a door, he surely installs a cat-flap.
This week, we learnt the frankly exhilarating news that talks are in
progress to turn Richard Madeley's recent autobiography into a movie.
Imagine the phone calls at the William Morris Agency: “Darling, the bad news
is, you didn't get Who; the good news is, you got Madeley!”
UP Britney Spears
Britney has turned the tables on the paparazzi by posting clips of them on her
website. This week's shows one falling over, with the caption: “This
photographer eats some dirt trying to get a shot of Britney.” Ignoring the
irony of someone understandably vexed by being followed 24/7 by the paps,
but who also believes in an all-seeing God, CW applauds Britney's spunk. But
perhaps she should reconsider the paps' role in her life; CW likes the idea
of being filmed constantly. There would be an immediate and useful resource
when CW mislaid its glasses or car keys - or, indeed, the kids.
UP Harrison Ford
Ford is, clearly, the most desirable man ever. Indiana Jones. Han Solo. Han
Solo. Indiana Jones. Think of the bit where Indy gets his cuts and bruises
kissed better by wosserface in Raiders of the Lost Ark; or the bit where
Leia says “I love you”, and Han says “I know”, in The Empire Strikes Back.
Sigh. But as if to confirm his ranking as the finest piece of man-manity in
all Creation, this week, he chose the most laid-back, admirable
comfortable-in-my-own-attractively-rugged-skin Hallowe'en outfit of 2008.
For where everyone else in Hollywood attended parties wearing “accidentally”
saucy outfits - sexy vampire, sexy demon, sexy sex sex - Ford went as one of
the Poddington Peas.
DOWN The Killers
The rock band had their triumphal gig at the Albert Hall somewhat marred by
the presence of one of their biggest fans: David Cameron. The band's
distress with this situation was illustrated by the diffullty had by The
Times in officially confirming the Tory leader's attendance with the
Killers' press office. “Was he definitely there?” we asked, in five separate
phone calls; 24 hours later, no one had got back to us. On ringing
Conservative Central Office, however - which also has to deal with briefings
on economic policy and, like, Osama bin Laden and stuff - it was confirmed
in less than 30 seconds. “Yes, he was there!” staff said, brightly.
DOWN Jeremy Clarkson
Last week Clarkson, you may have heard, made a joke about long-distance lorry
drivers murdering prostitutes. Despite the UK being on red alert for “edgy”
gags by big-name BBC presenters, the comment has, so far, provoked only 500
complaints. And, to be fair, my “redial” finger is really starting to hurt.
Come on, Britain! Protecting freedom of speech is one thing but, if we can
just pretend to be outraged about this, and ring a few more times, the old
bore could be toast!
