Printer Friendly

I'm so tee-d off with US politics.

Byline: Federico Martone Big Brother's big gob

Imagine Malcolm Tucker forced to sit through a whole Doctor Who box set.

That's been my general level of contentment while rolling news still continues to be dominated by the US election. I'm now on a complete rolling news detox but my last tuppence on the matter is: It's a fact that many of the protesters/rioters were priorly pious and outraged at the notion that Trump and his supporters would not have accepted the election result.

Can you imagine the rhetoric if the shoe was on the other foot? Sorry millennials and extreme leftys, "The Donald" is backtracking and preaching unity while you are threatening violence and assassinations.

The tense monthly wait to see whose hairline had crept up higher between Ant & Dec ended as they retuned to our screens with I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here! (exclamation mark compulsory).

This weekend will see more bushtucker trials and while the hosts' too many Des O'Connor's schtick is wearing thin, I'm A Celebrity probably benefits from still feeling like a show from another era. A social experiment that predates the social media age.

We have fast-forwarded to reducing the concept to clearly staged regional "reality" shows featuring; luminous orange, copy and paste, bleached, single digit IQ, empty vessels with smiles as sincere as air hostesses. Many contestants are in their 20s, yet look like botoxed yum yums.

My younger cousin in Italy - who has an asymmetric haircut, Che Guevara tattoo on his left calf and many sleeveless tops - observed that I had posted up my last column on Facebook.

He enjoys the very serviceable AI renegade series Humans, which continues tomorrow night on Channel 4 at 9pm. He also suggested I watch Batman vs Superman on Netflix. I did for a full 20 minutes then I remembered I had a DVD of Superman III. A film in which Superman; takes to the drink, grows stubble, straightens out the leaning tower of Pisa to annoy Italians, sleeps with Billy Connolly's wife and generally seems to be the product of one of co-star Richard Pryor's freebasing sessions.

The World Cup of Golf sounds like a tenuous rebranding exercise to woo casual observers but it's a real thing and starts on Sky Sports this Thursday. I had not thought about golf since I was unable to wrestle the control from my father during The Ryder Cup. As you will be able to tell from this briefly quoted exchange below, golf never really took off in the Martone household: Dad: "Is that Jack Nicholson's son playing?" Me: "No that's Phil Mickelson" Dad: "so he's Jack Nicholson's son, because he's good at golf, no?" Me: "His name is Phil Mickelson, I'm convinced that means he's not Jack Nicholson's son.

"Anyway, you are thinking about Jack Nicklaus, Dad."

Dad: "Who is Jack Nicklaus?" OFF COURSE... Actor Jack Nicholson has Fed's dad confused with golf legend

COPYRIGHT 2016 Scottish Daily Record & Sunday
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2016 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Title Annotation:Features
Publication:Daily Record (Glasgow, Scotland)
Date:Nov 19, 2016
Previous Article:Q&A Alan Carr.
Next Article:Q&A.

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2020 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters