Posts Tagged ‘friends’

My mate Mitch

Posted: 20 January 2020 in family, life, personal
Tags: , , , ,

It’s Mitch Benn’s 50th birthday, today. Happy birthday, Mitch.

No one reading this is going to be unaware that we’re close friends. That we’ve only known each other since 2010, however, does seem to surprise; most people assume we’ve been friends for a lot longer.

Even yesterday, at Mitch’s birthday bash, a couple of people expressed their astonishment that we only met a decade or so back.

But that’s perfectly fair; it still sometimes takes me aback, and saddens me, that Mitch never knew Mike, and never knew me when Phil was bar mitzvah’d. Would have been lovely to have him there for both.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Most Saturdays, since I restarted the blog in June last year, I’ve done a set of what I call Saturday Smiles; commonly, I’ll put up half a dozen funny or amusing videos just to lighten the mood, to give readers of the blog a smile or six after another week of ‘oh, what the hell has the world done now?’ I’ve done it off and on since I started blogging here in 2011.

And when I restarted them seven months ago, I made the decision to always include a song from Mitch. There’ve been some personal favourites in there, sure, but there’s always been something, if for no other reason that I like his work and I think more people should be exposed to it.

Because I do like Mitch’s work, his songs, his comedy. It’s why it was a joy to discover that I liked Mitch as well as his work when I met him.

And his 50th birthday seems as good a time as any – ten years after we met, and nine years since we became friends – to write something about my mate Mitch, and our friendship.

Now, that’s not to say that I didn’t like Mitch the moment we met, but that was under fairly frantic and pressured circumstances, and…

No. Wait. Allow me to go back a bit further. Pre-blog. Pre-Mitch.


I can’t remember when I first became a fan of musical comedy and of comedy songs. As early as I can recall, there were funny songs I recall learning the words of: playground songs, songs my dad sang, songs from I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again on radio, and comedy albums… everything from Alan Sherman’s Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah (properly entitled Camp Grenada) to Ernie, The Fastest Milkman In The West; Benny Hill’s comedy songs are great, by the way.

I’d happily sit and watch Victor Borge on the tv at my grandparents. Hell, I’d watch anyone who made me laugh, while singing a song or playing an instrument, or both.

One year, I remember I was bought an album of comedy songs for a birthday or Chanukah; one of my favourite presents as a child, ever. I played it over and over, driving my parents, and my brothers, loopy. And my older brother – who I’ve mentioned before played the guitar with perhaps more enthusiasm than talent – did the whole ‘funny lyrics to existing tunes’, which I joined in with, with equal… enthusiasm.

And then there was Richard Stilgoe, and The Goodies, and Phil Pope, and Victoria Wood, and Not The Nine O’Clock News and Monty Python, and Who Dares Wins

But I’ve always loved radio comedy. My old man introduced me to The Goon Show (which had musical interludes but they weren’t comedy songs as such) and then… and then… Well, I’d been a fan of Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis through their work on The Mary Whitehouse Experience and Jasper Carrott’s shows.

So when they helmed a new topical radio show entitled The Now Show, I listened to it.

Well, ok, yes, it’s a bit more complicated than that; I used to write for a Radio 4 topical comedy show entitled Weekending; a few years after I stopped writing for them, it came off air… to be replaced by a new show entitled The Now Show.

It ‘starred’ Punt and Dennis, along with Marcus Brigstocke, Jon Holmes, Laura Shavin, and this fella named Mitch Benn who did the funny songs.

And they were funny; clever ideas, fantastic wordplay, glorious rhymes – which I later learned Mitch refers to as ‘stunt rhyming’ – and superb homages/parodies of music styles, and of specific artists.

Mitch let us into his life just a bit on the show. I learned he was married, that in 2005, almost exactly ten years after my lad was born, he and his missus had their first child. He was a huge Doctor Who fan. As was I. And a comics fan. Well, obviously. And loved sf as much as I did. And when he occasionally let his anger show in a song, it was never gratuitous, but always razor sharp, and he hit his targets. I liked his humour, and I liked the show.

I went to see a couple of the Now Show recordings in 2008 & 2009. And yeah, the personalities on stage were about what I expected: funny, silly and the cast obviously liked each other enormously.

I started using Twitter properly in early 2008, having signed up a year earlier. It didn’t take too long before I discovered Mitch on there. And his missus. And for the next couple of years, it was fun, whenever the show was on, seeing Clara nag Mitch – who’d be playing hashtag games on a Wednesday night when he was supposed to be writing his Now Show songs. The fun they obviously had, teasing each other online… well, they always lightened a Wednesday night.

I chatted to both of them, very occasionally, but no more than they chatted to other people, I guess. I remembered that Mitch had played at the Eagle awards one year at Comic Expo in Bristol while I was in the bar… but we never met.

And – it turned out – that had happened a couple of times; we’d been at the same place at the same time, but just never got around to meeting. It happens.

I knew Mitch and I had a mutual friend, but I’ve always been a bit wary of asking mutual friends for an introduction, not when they’re both celebrities in their own rights.

So, we just never met.


Several hundred words through this, we come to late September 2010. Work was hard, and I was putting in long hours, working six day weeks and most Sundays. Twitter was my… break from mundanity, I guess? Back then it was silly, and fun, and I dunno; maybe the memory plays tricks but it was… fun.

Mitch had written a song entitled (I’m) Proud of the BBC, and was doing a video for it; he invited his Twitter followers, if they were available, to come down and take part in the filming.

My office in Newman Street was about ten minutes’ walk from where they were recording part of the video, outside the BBC. I was going to be working on the Sunday of the recording – near where I’m currently typing this, as it happens – so I dropped them a message and said I might turn up.

Mitch and Clara’s reaction was – in part, I’m sure because they wanted to have a decent turn out – an enthusiastic “Yes! Come along!”

I duly ‘came along’, and ended up appearing for about a second and a half in the video, before I – having met Mitch, Clara and the kids, and liked them all – returned to the office and the month end accounts, and the three year budget, and the financial modelling, all of which I was then simultaneously wrangling.

And that was that; that could have been that. I’d met them, I’d had fun, and who knows, maybe I’d meet them again at some point?

It could have been no more than that.

And my life would have been very different, substantially worse, than it turned out.

Because when I mentioned to our mutual friend how much I’d enjoyed meeting Mitch et famile, his reaction was immediate, along the lines of: “How do you both not know each other? You two should definitely know each other. You’ll like each other.

Shortly thereafter I received an invitation to pop round to the house one day and meet them properly. As memory serves, and memories of that time are, I’ll acknowledge, a bit blurry at times, I was in the office on another Sunday, taking a break, and they said if I finished early enough, to drive around to them, to meet them properly. So I drove over to their place. Had a lovely evening, full of laughter and silliness and fun.

And then ‘popping round to see them’ after work became a regular thing, an oasis from work, and a welcome chat and time of relaxation.

I’d never ‘done’ Christmas really. I’m Jewish for a start, but it had never been my thing, and – after my marriage ended – I tended to go into work on Christmas Day itself. I’d clear the backlog of correspondence and work in the blessed silence of no telephones ringing, no emails disturbing me, no one popping by my office to ask me stuff. (For various reasons, I’d pretty much cut ties with my parents and remaining sibling by then.) So, yeah, I had every intention of working that particular Christmas Day until late in the evening.

Neither Clara nor Mitch particularly liked that idea, and they… well, I’d say they invited, but that’s not strong enough. They pretty much insisted that I join their family for their Christmas.

And I did. In both meanings.

Mitch and Clara invited me to join their family in oh, so many ways. Not just for Christmas, but to always be welcome at and in their house, to view their place as somewhere safe… another home.

They became my closest friends in an astonishingly short period of time.

And I needed friends.

I needed somewhere else I could think of as home, somewhere where I would be… ok, or as ok as I got back then.

Because I was in the process of cracking up.

And not in a ‘cracking up with laughter’ way; cracking up as in a ‘falling apart’ way.

I didn’t know it at that time, but I was. I mean, ok, everyone else – especially those at Chez Benn – knew it, or at least strongly suspected it, but me? Not so much. It’s easiest to describe what happened as a fairly comprehensive nervous breakdown. There’s more to it than that, but that’ll do for the moment.

And when I lost where I was living, Mitch and Clara invited – again, that’s so little a word to describe it – me to take over the spare room at their place, and to live with them, as part of their family. Partly to look after me, to care for, and about, me. Partly to allow me the time to get through the crisis that was… me being me.


I met Mitch in 2010; we became friends in 2011, and there’s not been a day since when I haven’t learned something from him. Stuff about life, about family, about comedy. About friendship.

(Oh, and a lot about Doctor Who. No, I meant it: a lot about Doctor Who. Seriously, so much about Doctor Who.)

One of the things Mitch and I discovered fairly early on was that we both knew an awful lot about the same subjects, and interests. But there was shed loads he knew that I didn’t, and vice versa. In ten years, there’s not been a single conversation we’ve had where he’s not surprised me with some nugget of relevant information, or shown me a side of an argument I’d not considered. Doesn’t mean we always agree; hell, as often as not, our conversations are attempts to persuade the other that we’re right and the other is… well, if not wrong, then not wholly right.

I can’t begin to list all the things I owe him, for which he deserves – but won’t ever accept – my thanks.

But here are a couple.

Mitch knew of my comedy writing career (such as it was) and when he was snowed under with work – The Now Show, appearing as Zaphod Beeblebrox in the stage tour of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To the Galaxy, writing a novel – but had been asked to do some Radio 4 shows, he asked me if I wanted to help write them.

Whether I wanted to? Of course I wanted to. Took me about ¾ of a second to say yes. And ½ a second of that was me going ‘wha–?’

And the past four years, it’s been enormous fun, and incredibly satisfying, to work on his Edinburgh shows, to see him craft an idea, then a routine, then a show; to watch at close hand why this gag works, but this one doesn’t quite; to see why this word caps the routine, but that word would drain the energy from it; to watch an audience being taken along the journey that is an Edinburgh show.

I have no musical ability at all; I can just about pick out a tune on a keyboard, but not so as anyone would, y’know, recognise the tune. It’s a delight to see someone who knows what they’re doing… create musical comedy, and… make people laugh while they’re doing it.

Writing with Mitch has been the hardest, and yet the most fun, writing I’ve ever done. And enormously, wonderfully, fantastic.

Writing something else in the same room as Mitch, on the other hand? That’s just plain weird.

January 2013: Mitch has been away, doing a gig; I pick him up from the airport. We’re driving back, and he mentions he’s doing something for Radio 3, for Comic Relief, something with Simon Russell Beale.

Mitch adds that he quite fancies doing something else as well. Maybe… creating a muscial comedy album from scratch in 24 hours, with – we’re just chatting, you understand – maybe the song titles being chosen by the Now Show audience, curated by the Now Show cast?

The idea’s a fun one, and we bat it back and forth for a bit before I say something like ‘huh… you know, whenever I’ve done the fast fictions, I’ve done loads of extra challenges within it, but I’ve never done a timed challenge. Heh. Can you imagine? Me writing 24 stories in 24 hours?’

It sounds harmless if you say it fast enough, doesn’t it?

And yes, you can see where this is heading.

I mean, I’d said it merely as a ‘Huh… here’s a daft idea.’

But by the end of the car journey, Mitch is already working out where we could do this thing together; him writing, performing and releasing, a comedy album in 24 hours, me writing 24 stories in 24 hours, my challenges coming from celebrities, both raising money for Comic Relief.

By then, I’d lived with the Benns for six months or so. I stayed for another four years, before moving out in February 2017. I doubt there’s been more than a couple of days since when we’ve not exchanged messages, or chatted, or… something.


Mitch has no time for the sentiment: ‘never meet your heroes’; his view tends towards “get better heroes”.

Mitch isn’t my hero but he’s my friend, one of my closest friends. And I’m hugely, wonderfully, phenomenally, grateful for that.

I was a fan of his work before I met him and it was, and remains a delight to me that our friendship quickly developed to cover so much more.

Happy birthday, Mitch.

And thanks for being… well… you.

And so we’re on the final day of 2019. And the final post of this countdown.

But yeah, the final day of 2019; as I mentioned a couple of weeks back, few will be sorry to see it depart.

But as with any year, even the worst, it hasn’t been totally, unreservedly, full of shit. There have been good things, objectively good things. Even in 2019, there have been things that have made me smile, made me laugh, made me forget the shittiness… just for a bit.

And that’s true both on the entirely personal, and in the larger sphere, in the world.

So, since there’s been some more personal entries this time around, here’s some personal stuff that under any parameters, under any objective look, must be filed under the ‘good’ category.

These are in no particular order, I hasten to add… not chronologically nor in personal importance.

So… Good stuff – Personal

Edinburgh

Not just the place, not even just The Edinburgh Fringe, but that I got to spend – for the first time in five years, my birthday in Edinburgh during The Fringe.

Yes, Edinburgh this year wasn’t exactly empty of drama, and yes, I spent one night in agony and in hospital.

But getting to Edinburgh every year (ok, seven years of the past nine, and every year since 2014) is unquestionably good for me. Not only does everyone else notice it, and tell me, but more astonishingly, I know it. None of this ‘well, I guess so’. No, I know that I return from Edinburgh somehow… better.

Of course after a few months, that knowledge tends to fade a bit. The importance, I mean. Because while I always kind-of-remember that I kind-of-like the place… it’s not until I get up there that it hits me once again with full force… that in fact I truly love the place, love every bit of it.

Yep. I love every bit of the fringe, and love seeing friends and acts I know, and discovering new acts… and I get to have coffee in one of my favourite places to have coffee.

And I get to see a lot of comedy, a lot of new comedy; new acts, new material, new shows.

This year was particularly good, both because I got to spend my birthday up there and also because of the quality of the shows I saw.

Yeah, this was, no matter what else happened while I was up there this year… A Good Thing.

Writing

So, I’ve done more writing this year than I have in ages. Both on here (about more of which in a moment) and elsewhere. I’ve written scripts; I’ve written some short stories that I’m still pondering what to do with; I’ve helped write a comedy show; I’ve plotted out an anthology of short stories with a single theme. I’ve pulled a couple of stories ‘out of the drawer’ and have started working on those as well.

More importantly, arguably, I’ve remembered how much I enjoy… making words do what I want them to, and when they won’t do what I want them to, I’ve enjoyed the ‘figuring out what’s wrong, and how to fix the problem’ as well.

So, yeah, I’ve been writing again; again, I’d assert, in fact I do assert: A Good Thing.

Blogging

Yeah, this place. For the first time since the end of 2016, I’ve been blogging this year, I started off, after two and a half years away from the blog, in late June, hoping to make it to my birthday.

Y’see, I’d started to get the itch a month or so earlier, but it really bit when I realised that I was coming up on fifty-five days before my fifty-fifth birthday. And I can’t resist a countdown, as long time readers will know.

And having learned from previous experiences that a countdown of some kind actively helped me in daily blogging, I started the 55 minus countdown which led up to my birthday in mid-August.

And then I… continued the daily blogging, with the 55 plus run, which ran for fifty-five days after my birthday…

…which finished just before the coincidental date on which I’d need to start if I wanted to repeat 2016’s year-end countdown. So I… just carried on blogging with the countdown that’s ending today: 2020 minus.

(No idea what happens next; I guess we’ll discover that together.)

Now, whether anyone else thinks me blogging is a good thing, I don’t know, and to a large extend I don’t care. (I’ve deliberately not kept an eye on the readership numbers; that in and of itself is probably A Good Thing,) But for me, personally, writing stuff again, putting stuff out there? Yeah, A Good Thing.

Merry

You don’t know who or what Merry is, or to what I’m referring. That’s cool. But friends of mine who have had an Australian labradoodle (best and most accurately described by one of them as a Special Needs Wookiee) got another puppy this year. She’s another labradoodle, but this time part-miniature poodle.

And she’s named Merry.

I can’t ever remember taking to a dog so quickly, but yeah, she’s adorable and fun, and she’s lovely. And she’s made things a bit better when I’ve visited or stayed over.

Now if she can just stop dividing the world into a) ‘things I can eat’, b) ‘things I can’t eat but am going to anyway’, and c) ‘people’s body parts I can lick’, that would be even better A Good Thing.

Phil back in London

My lad Philip, now 24, has been back in London for most of 2019; it’s been a genuine pleasure that he’s been local once again, that I can see him whenever we want, that he can come up to the flat to visit his old man to chat, to pass the time, to play backgammon, to watch some telly… just to hang out.

It’s been lovely, and unreservedly A Good Thing that happened in 2019.

The friends who are still friends

This year’s been rough for everyone, myself included, and it’s been good that there have been friends who have been there, who have been there at the end of the phone, or online, or who I’ve visited, or who’ve visited me, just for the pleasure – and sometimes relief from the world’s shittiness – of spending time in each others’ company.

Help when we’ve wanted it, advice when we’ve needed it, having each others’ back when needed. A Good Thing.

The friends who are no longer friends

Odd that I’d label this as A Good Thing, nu?

No, not at all. Because people I’ve fallen out with, this year, I don’t regret for a moment that we did so. Some were decades’ long friendships that ended over politics, or the election, or merely because it was time, long past time, that the polite fiction of our friendship that we maintained for far too long… ended.

If we fell out over politics, or antisemitism, or even just ‘stuff that happened’ this year, then I genuinely hope you don’t regret it, or wish it hadn’t happened. Because I sure as hell don’t.

Some truly excellent television

Yes, seriously. Some wonderful new tv series that I watched and enjoyed and that made life just a little bit better while I was watching; tv that I’m glad is in the world, and glad that I watched it. (Yes, of course there were new seasons of old shows that I enjoyed but I’m sticking to brand new shows just for a moment.)

Good Omens, Watchmen, Treadstone, Prodigal Son: All new, all flat out excellent, all led in unexpected directions, all must-see television.

But despite my previous comments about new shows… I’d be remiss if I didn’t give an especially huge nod and tip of the hat to Last Week Tonight and Full Frontal whose sheer wonder has given me hours of enjoyment and laughter. And with all the shit this year’s handed all of us, that laughter and enjoyment was dearly & desperately needed & appreciated.

All Good Things, indeed.

The Distraction Club

I’ve written about The Distraction Club loads of times in the blog but I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated, ever needed, it as much as I did this year.

I’ve been a fan of muscial comedy for as long as I can recall. Whether it was Richard Stilgoe crafting exquisitely perfect comedy songs on the radio, or watching Victor Borge at my grandparents’ (My grandmother would be reduced to tears of laughter watching him) or all who came later, or indeed before but that I discovered later…

…the first Tuesday in every month brings The Distraction Club, downstairs at The Phoenix in Cavendish Square.

Usually five acts including a headliner, and – I’ll be fair – as often as not, there’s one act I don’t enjoy. But that means there are three or four I do plus Mitch and the band, and that makes it more than worth it.

So many acts I’ve seen there, so many I now know to talk to, to chat with.

This is unquestionably A Good Thing, and 2019’s run of shows have been among the very best.

Radio 4

Not just Radio 4 as a whole, but two specific voices on Radio 4. Corrie Corfield and Carolyn Quinn, two voices whose appearance on the radio always… helps.

Two ultimately professional radio people, there have been times in the past few years, and especially this year, when hearing their calm, measured tones – Corrie’s a continuity announcer and news reader, Carolyn presents The Westminster Hour among other political shows – have… helped.

That’s all.

They’ve… helped. And that’s, I’d suggest, A Good Thing.

Rachel Maddow, Steve Kornacki & Ann Telnaes

Three from across the pond. I’ve made no secret of my admiration for The Rachel Maddow Show. It’s exactly the sort of detailed news/politics show that I love; the style, in some ways, echoes the great Alistair Cooke’s linking of ‘what is happening today’ to ‘what happened before’ and why it matters.

When I can watch, I do so; when I can’t watch, I’ll listen to the audio podcast the following day. She’s smart, funny, and incisive. And my favourite ‘explainer of what the hell just happened’.

Steve Kornacki is the single ‘elections explainer’ – on either side of the Atlantic – I’ll go out of my way to watch. He makes Peter Snow (who some of you will remember) look positively unenthusiastic about elections and his explanations of the quirks, anomalies and expectations make the ludicrous seem… well, if not less ludicrous, then at least understandable why they’re important ludicrosities.

Ann Telnaes is my favourite US cartoonist and caricaturist, bar none. I said a while back that her style is one of scathing whimsy and that’s all you should need to know about why I adore her work so much.

Three Americans whose work I’m very glad I got the opportunity to see this year. And I regard the work of all three, individually and collectiively, as A Good Thing in 2019.

Neil Gaiman

I got to catch up with Neil a few times this year while he was over, and talked to him more often than for a while. I’ve known Neil for more than 20 years and there’s no one on the planet better at guilt tripping me into writing more, into opening the ipad, opening a writing app… and just… writing, putting one word after another. And then doing it again. And again.

He also understands where I’m coming from re various stuff in a way that many don’t. And I’m always and neverendingly grateful for the Good Thing that is his friendship.

Mitch Benn

I honesty don’t know where to start with how much I owe my mate Mitch.

I’d been a fan of his work for years before we finally met, and when we did meet, it was when he was fairly busy, recording the video for (I’m) Proud Of The BBC. So we only got to briefly chat on that occasion.

Long story short, we became friends and it’s something I never cease to be grateful for. Later, he invited me to helped write his Radio 4 shows on Bowie, Dylan and Elvis, and that he trusts me to help with his Edinburgh shows is an annual Good Thing that always flatters and honours me.

But that’s not why I’m listing our friendship in 2019 as A Good Thing. He’s a nice man, a good man, and I don’t think there’s been a single conversation we’ve had this year (any year, come to that) where I haven’t come away from the chat having learned something.

Our interests, our experiences in life, are wholly different, and yet, somehow we managed to have shared interests to the point where he knows shedloads about a subject that I don’t know, even though I know shedloads about the same subject that he doesn’t.

(Honourable exceptions for ‘keys’ in music which I still don’t understand – don’t try to explain it, you’ll end up wanting to thump me – and balance sheets which I’m not entirely convinced he does. Oddly though, ‘substance over form’ is something from accountancy that Mitch does understand, though I’m not entirely sure he knows he does.)

Mitch; his music, his judgement, his advice, his intelligence, and his friendship. All, unreservedly, without mitigation, Good Things.

Clara, Roger, Micah and Astrid

Clara is Mitch’s ex, (and if you’re looking for ‘people who split up but remain the closest of friends‘, since you don’t know me and Laura, I’ll just point you at them.)

Roger’s Clara’s fella. Micah and Astrid are Clara and Mitch’s kids. And they’re who I spend a night a week, or so, with.

I won’t say I wouldn’t have survived 2019 without them, but their home, their friendship, their love and them being… them, has certainly made 2019 easier. I’ve laughed and smiled and reminisced and been silly and been drunk on single malt more in Clara and Roger’s company than in anyone else’s the past few years and it’s always been from a spirit of comfort and friendship.

Their friendship and love is always and forever A Good Thing.

My ex-wife, Laura

Laura’s one of my favourite people on the planet. As well as being Phil’s mum, she’s been a part of my life for coming up on thirty years. We catch up for coffee every week or so, and if for some reason we can’t, there feels something fundamentally wrong with the world.

She’s a lovely lady; smart and funny. And I like her enormously. I’m very pleased she entered my life in 1992; that she’s still in it is A Good Thing.


OK, that’s the A Good Thing stuff done for my personal stuff.

Now onto the A Good Thing for the non-personal, for the world at large stuff.

Hmm.

Er…

Well now.

I’m joking, of course. For all the shit that’s around, some things have got better.

Take a look at this, for example.

Britain went two weeks without using coal. First time ever.

And over the past few years…?

I wish everyone a good, happy, rewarding 2020.

See you on the other side of the year-end….

Nothing really to add the clusterfuck that is the current state of British politics, other than to note that our primus inter mendaces has been at it again today:

And if I write about it any further, I suspect my blood pressure medications won’t suffice.

So, something more pleasant.

As I’ve mentioned before, I used to live in Richmond. well, to be precise in Ham, but hardly anyone knows where that is, so I say Richmond-Upon-Thames and most people have a general idea where that is, to the south west of London.

I was over there last night and this morning, staying with friends; friends I see on a roughly weekly basis. It’s always an evening full of fun and laughter, and it’s a wonderful oasis from the world for a few hours. I don’t think even they realise how truly I value it.

Coming back this morning, I crossed Richmond Bridge, and I was reminded how lovely Richmond can be.

Pretty, isn’t it?

But yesterday evening, we had our usual catchups. Catchups with me (health, and some other stuff) and with them (health, life, one of their kids has just started Big School) and on life in general.

Yes, I’m afraid politics on both sides of the Atlantic was discussed but with surprisingly few swear words, obscenities and curses. Yes, I know. I must have been off my game.

But we also caught up on some telly.

As is well known, my not liking a show is almost guaranteed to mean that it’s a critically acclaimed series that most – if not all – of my friends will enjoy, and will praise to the skies.

But there are exceptions to the rule: shows I like that my friends like as well, so usually, we’ll catch up on the latest episodes; last night all three had episodes broadcast this week , so we caught up on them.

Last Week Tonight With John Oliver

Oh, gods, how highly can I praise this show? I doubt anyone coming across it for the first time would think of it – as it was thought of in its very, very early days – as “The Daily Show But On A Sunday. John Oliver quickly established the show’s own identity and its own style of doing its thing. Hell, it’s Thing is completely different to The Daily Show, both under Jon Stewart and under Trevor Noah.

(I’ve warmed to Noah’s version of the show the past year, by the way. I’m not sure whether I’ve just become more accepting of it, or whether he’s toned down the things I didn’t like about the first couple of years, while upping the gag quality and content. Either way, my perception is that it’s sharper than it was, and cleverer than it was.)

But Last Week Tonight. Is clever in its own way, and the methodology John applies to his taking apart a story in a 20 minute segment, leading the audience on the story he’s telling is gloriously fun, rightly smug on occasions but utterly compelling.

And even though he knows you an csee where a set up is leading, at least half the time, you’ve missed an important aspect, and it’s not until it drops that you realise quite what you missed, and how important it is.

Have to say I miss the earlier seasons’ ‘and finally…’ moments. They were always fun and usually a much-needed relief from the ‘what the fuck?’ anger at some scandal or issue he’d raised.

Last night’s show… heh, last night’s.. Of course it was Sunday’s show, I just saw it last night. Sunday’s show’s main story was about the filibuster. And for once, it was faintly… I dunno. There was nothing new to me in the story. I mean, it was great, and funny, and showed the idiocy and the hypocrisy inherent in the tactic’s defenders, but I was once again – as I am occasionally – surprised that the audience seemed to find it new.

But then again, I’m never unsurprised at how little most people – on both sides of the Atlantic – know, and usually care, about how things happen, how they’re supposed to happen, and why things happen, in our respective institutions of government and politics.

OK, so after that, we watched…

Full Frontal With Samantha Bee

Again, I wish I had the words to praise this show highly enough. Now this show is, it’s fair to say, a direct evolution in format of The Daily Show. Three segments, six or seven minutes each, with the host railing against this or that, but with sharp gags, and sharper delivery.

It’s not the format that makes Full Frontal so damn good, however. It’s the writing and especially the delivery of Samantha Bee. The anger, frustration, anger, upset, anger and especially the anger shines through on every segment, on every topic, in every glance, every word, every expression, every side-eye to the camera.

My grandmother had an expression: what’s on her lung is on her tongue.

My grandmother would like Sam Bee. Not that the anger is manufactured nor a conceit, not that the fury is an artifice. But the writing takes advantage of her upset, her fury and her boiling exasperation… and channels it into exactly the weapon appropriate for the subject matter: a rapier on this occasion and a bludgeon on that.

The writing is top notch, and Sam’s correspondents (another Daily Show holdover) are used to clever effect, complementing rather than supplementing Sam’s performance.

One notable thing though that I only rarely get from The Daily Show these days: I get the feeling that the correspondents, the host… they like each other. They’re not merely colleagues, they’re people who enjoy working with each other, enjoy each other’s work and enjoy each other’s company.

And that’s enormously pleasing to see. Congratulations to the writing teams, the correspondents and Sam Bee herself for a fantastic, angry show, that’s essential viewing.

After those shows, we finished off with the latest episode of…

Only Connect

There are few quiz shows I’ll watch for pleasure. Hardly any, in fact.

But Only Connect, of which I was an early watcher, almost instantly grabbed me and addicted me. Vitoria Coren Mitchell is a wonderful presenter/host and the questions not only make me think, I take great joy if I get one right, and experience disappointment if I get one wrong, and mild but definite upset if I get one wrong that I should have gotten right….

Sometimes the two teams will go into the final round in a tie or a point or two apart. Sometimes one team goes into that final round quite a bit ahead. Rarely, as in last night’s show, they’ll go into the final round ahead 26 – 6. Ouch.

But its a show that makes me think, and that’s what it shares with the other two shows, and why I enjoy watching all three with two of my closest friends on the planet.

(After they’d gone to bed, I watched the first couple of hours of the Democratic Debate. Hmm. Didn’t enjoy that as much, and I may write about why after the weekend..)
 
 
It’s Saturday tomorrow. If you’ve been paying attention, you know what that means. If not, then join me tomorrow for some Saturday silliness. Oh, and join me tomorrow if you know what’s coming up as well. That’d be nice.

It’s not often I’ll cross-refer to GOING CHEEP, but the other day, I wrote about my different taste to most of my friends when it came to television series we respectively enjoy.

It occurs to me that in the list of things where people differ, I gave politics and religion short shrift.

I wanted to get the quote right, so I dug out my collection of Alistair Cooke’s Letters From America and came across the following passages, taken from one of the letters from 1956 (apologies in advance for the length):

I have , for instance, a close friend, a merry, kindly and simple man, very able in his special field of finance. I feel agreeable in his presence and I admire his human qualities. At the shabbiest period in recent American history, when the fear of domestic Communists was most paranoid, this friend was a strong, even a devout, McCarthyite… You might guess, therefore, that my friend’s admiration for McCarthy marked the parting of the ways for us. Well, it was an embarrassment, but not to our affection or our continuing association. Of course, if by some convulsion of history, McCarthy had become an American dictator, my friend and I would probably have said goodbye and retreated to opposite sides of the barricades. Nobody has sharpened this point better, in my opinion, than the late Justice Holmes when he said that the purpose of civilised argument between friends is to arrive at the point where you agree that some day it might be necessary to shoot each other. Until that day is unavoidable, ‘the democratic process’ both in public and in private is no more but no less than an acceptance of the notion that in important issues, you may be wrong.

and

My first mentor in journalism in this country was a man who had no use for democracy at all, except in this crucial belief. ‘Democracy’, he once wrote, ‘is the theory that the common people know what they want and deserve to get it good and hard.’ But he also wrote, ‘What I admire most in any man is a serene spirit… when he fights he fights in the manner of a gentleman fighting a duel, not in that of a longshoreman cleaning out a waterfront saloon.’ We had a tacit understanding that while I allowed him to shoot off his face about the fraudulence and guile of Franklin Roosevelt, I should then be allowed to go off and vote for him. This division never interfered with a friendship that was amiable at all times.

I believe this to be not only a sane approach to politics but essential to all things that lie outside politics.

It’s something I’ve been thinking about a great deal recently, since I saw a column online from someone complaining – only semi-jokingly, I suspect – about all the things his friends do that irritate him. It made me consider friendships in general and specifically: where is the line drawn?

When a friend, acquaintance or whatever holds a view that’s not only in opposition to your own, but something that you can’t understand how anyone with the intelligence of a retarded slug could hold, or is something that you actually find offensive (personally or in general)… what do you do?

Do you accept that they hold the opposite view, or do you walk away?

Are you like Cooke, i.e. you allow them to proselyte their view to you, as long as they allow you to do the same? Or do you just agree never to discuss it?

As an example, as I’ve mentioned before, a friend I’ve somewhat lost contact with over the past decade or so genuinely regards the Jewish practice of circumcising male children as child abuse; we’ve kind of agreed never to discuss it. it didn’t affect our friendship that I know of. Another friend from long ago and I agreed never to discuss Cromwell; he may have let Jewish people back into England after 350 years’ worth of exile, but his policies towards Ireland made him not far short of a genocidal maniac. Again, it didn’t – at the time – affect our friendship.

On the other hand, there are others that hold views in opposition to mind where it undoubtedly has affected the friendship, lessening it. Only mildly in some cases, but noticeably nonetheless.

And now that I think about it, I’m damned if I know how I feel about it.

But back to the thing with which I started this piece; are there things that friends of mine do that piss me off? Well, my immediate thought was “if my friends are my friends, they already know what pisses me off about them… and there’s no reason to further piss them off any more than I already do, deliberately or otherwise.”

Moreover, on second thought, to a certain extent, I hold to that – if they are my friends, I don’t really want to piss them off any more than I already do, and if they’re not my friends, they won’t give a damn anyway.

However, on pondering the question, I figure I want to write a little more on the subject.

Well, there’s at least three problems with the question as stated.

The first is that ‘friends’ has taken on a whole new meaning over the past few years because of the whole blogging and social networking issue.

At one point, on Facebook, I had about 300 friends, before I reduced that down to 150 and then to a couple of dozen, and then removed myself from the site. When I had a Livejournal blog, there were over 150 people reading the blog, or at least people I’d marked as friends, and a similar number of people who’ve marked me as a friend. Were all of them actual “friends”? Hell, no- most of them I’d never met, and were never likely to; more than a few of them I wouldn’t have recognised had I walked past them in the street. There’s a large number of people who follow my Twitter account, or this blog where I genuinely don’t have a clue (nor have I attempted to discover) what their ‘real name’ is. There’s even quite a few where I have no idea what gender they are.

In most cases, these people aren’t friends; they’re acquaintances at best, and ‘online contacts’ (what a horrible phrase) in reality.

So now we come to the next thing: what is a friend? I’ve always been struck by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s comment of:

A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud.

But does that imply that one can be completely open with a friend, or merely that one never has to worry about watching your words in front of them. Because I know many people that would qualify as the latter, but precious few that would fall into the former category.

And there are, to me, other attributes that seem inherent in friends, and friendship.

With friends, I kind of figure I should want to spend time in their company, and vice versa. Whether I do spend time in their company (and vice versa) is almost irrelevant; do I – and they – actually want to spend time with the other? Do I, and they, get pleasure from seeing the other person; is there a genuine welcome, or is it merely toleration of their (or my) company?

Can I rely on them (and them on me) in times of need, and not just in terms of presence; would I pissed off at them if they called me at 3am just because they needed to chat to someone? Am I sympathetic to their hurts, and they to mine? Even if I think they’re wrong (or they think I’m wrong), will either get upset/angry at that disagreement? If it matters to them, does it matter to me, and if not to the extent of what they would regard as callousness, isn’t there something seriously wrong there?

This is the thing I’ve come to realise – friendship (or at least the depth of it) isn’t always a two way street. Oh, I’m not saying that you can have two people where A regards B as a friend, but B regards A as his most hated enemy. Well, not outside soap operas. But the depths, and importance, of friendships, they vary in reality and in perception.

C considers D one of their closest friends, but D regards C as just “one of the crowd”. Or E considers F as someone so important to them that they’d do pretty much anything for them, while it doesn’t even occur to F that they owe E anything more than sharing a phone call or a drink every so often.

I’m utterly convinced that for the sake of humanity, people should never – ever – discover exactly how reciprocal in depth and importance their individual friendships are… or are not.

Finally – for the moment anyway, I may add to this – there’s the small thing there’s no one thing that pisses me off in common about people I regard as friends. Different friends piss me off in different ways.

But what those ways are? Naah, I go back to what I originally said:

“if my friends are my friends, they already know what pisses me off about them… and there’s no reason to further piss them off any more than I already do, deliberately or otherwise.”

The chain

Posted: 29 August 2014 in internet, personal
Tags: , ,

I’m not sure how long I’ll let this run, but it occurred to me that the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge gives a perfect example of a chain, and everybody’s contribution will be different…

I’ve heard the arguments against the challenge, but I still think it’s a worthy thing to do.

Anyway, my own personal chain started with my son Philip and his girlfriend, thus

and nominated me. So, twenty-four hours later, or thereabouts, I uploaded my own contribution…

One of the people I nominated was one of my closest friends, comedy song-writer and author Mitch Benn. And, in due course, he accepted the challenge in his own inimitable style.

Among others, Mitch nominated his wife, Clara… who, today, accepted the challenge like this.

Clara nominated… well, you’ll see who in the video.

More to follow…? We’ll see…