Holy Spider – Voyeurism or Bearing Witness?


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NB. There’s no way of talking about this without spoilers, although the film largely based on a true story, so it’s up to you.

Holy Spider is a tough watch. It’s a fictionalised account of the serial killer Saeed Hanaei, who murdered 16 women in Iran, all or most of whom were sex workers, in 2000-2001. He was ultimately caught and executed, but along the way, Hanaei became a folk hero of the religious right because of his claim that his killing spree was a divinely inspired mission to cleanse the streets of ‘corrupt women’.

Zar Amir Ebrahimi as Arezoo Rahimi in pursuit of the Holy Spider serial killer

In light of today’s protests by women in Iran against the strictures of the ‘Morality Police’ the story feels important and prophetic, suggesting that Hanaei’s twisted mentality is now enshrined in a state sanctioned murderously misogynistic DNA.

I should start by saying that I think Holy Spider is a very good film in many ways. It’s brilliantly made, utterly gripping, with superb acting all round. The director, Ali Abbasi, is himself Iranian (although he lives in Denmark now) and some might remember him from the very bizarre Border which came out a few years ago about a Troll working as a customs officer.

If you haven’t seen Border, dig it out. It’s VERY weird, completely original and utterly compelling.

But… But…. 

On the one hand Holy Spider follows an incredibly determined brave woman journalist, Arezoo Rahimi, who finally entraps Hanaei by posing as a sex worker and pursuing justice on behalf of his victims, on the other it endeavours to explore Hanaei’s psyche (embittered war veteran, religious zealot etc), following him as he commits murder after murder, which he gets away with because, as with Peter Sutcliffe, there is little sympathy for his sex worker victims who are seen as largely responsible for their own fate.

Hanaei is brilliantly and believably portrayed by Mehdi Majestani but is that part of the problem?

Here lies the problem. To tell this part of the story, Abbasi decides we need to watch not one, not two, but three very brutal murders, dwelling in graphic detail on highly disturbing images of their strangulation. While there is some attempt, certainly with two of the victims, to give them a hinterland and depth beyond being simply cinematic murder-fodder, there is clearly justification for the accusation that Abbasi is being unnecessarily voyeuristic. Wendy Ide in The Observer was particularly scathing, suggesting that this aspect of the film perpetuated precisely what it was attempting to critique and it was therefore only worthy of two stars. She has a point.

But… But…

I found myself very conflicted. In recent years, especially in the writing community, the consensus has been that we should aim to give far less narrative air time to perpetrators, and where possible make our stories about those who suffer at their hands. In 2021, in The Investigation, a brilliant Danish dramatisation around the murder of journalist Kim Wall in a wealthy entrepreneur’s private submarine, the perpetrator was neither named or featured at all. It was an incredibly affecting and powerful drama. 

Danish drama The Investigation resolutely denied the perpetrator airtime

The thing is, while I was blown away by the power of that Danish series, I can’t in all honesty bring myself to believe that this is the only way of respectfully telling these stories, after all sometimes it is our duty as writers to dig down into why people transgress in the way they do. In the case of Iran, where Abbasi is making a broader political point about ingrained cultural, political and religious misogyny, not to explore who Hanaei believes himself to be would be to render the whole enterprise utterly pointless.

Indeed, although Hanaei was caught after a potential victim managed to escape, the journalist’s brave, empowering entrapment story, gripping though it is, appears to be little more than worthy wish fulfilment. The truth of the film – and truth is what we’re about as writers and directors – lies in the parts of the film about which well-meaning, politically astute critics are so righteously critical.

So, could the film have been made without forcing us to watch those murders? Would one or two murders have been enough? The answer to that is yes, but I seriously doubt it would have been anywhere as powerful a statement as it is. It could reasonably – if uncomfortably – be argued that to do so would be less respectful of those victims, not more so, because in narrative terms the crimes would be sanitised for the audience, and Abbasi is addressing an audience who, he believes, simply do not take the issue of violence against women seriously. If there are people – sometimes controlling entire nations – who see violence against women as an abstract justified by a higher force, as divine retribution, then showing it as cold, brute, murderous evil done, repeatedly, by men (not gods), is thematically and politically justified. After all, that is the truth of the world.

When we meet the parents of one of the murdered women, torn apart by grief and shame, it is a hair-raising moment, precisely because we have lived the young woman’s terrible death with her. When Hanaei’s son coolly, proudly re-enacts his father’s crimes with his toddler sister, as if playing a children’s game, we flinch precisely because we have borne witness to the full horror of the deed as it happened.

And in a brilliant and shocking final act, the execution of Hanaei is seen to be equally brutal, the audience forced to watch in grim detail just as they have the murders of his female victims. We could equally ask do we really need to see that in all its horror? The answer for me is yes, because it exposes the suffocating pointlessness of any culture driven by retribution, divine or human.

In its brilliant conclusion, Holy Spider dramatises Hanaei passing his misogynist beliefs down to his son.

It has become easy to eschew voyeurism, and often there is good reason to be wearily impatient with tropes where women feature primarily as corpses, but equally there are times when those stories need to be told, and when perhaps those images need to be seen. 

Whether the balance is right here, and whether a woman director would have made this differently, or as effectively, or better, I genuinely have no idea. All I can say is that Holy Spider is an extremely powerful and disturbing film which I shall be thinking about for days if not weeks if not years, where a more discreet cinematic style might have been a good deal more forgettable.

It made me rightfully angry at the crime, not at the film maker, and I’ve never been one for blaming the messenger.

(If you’re new to the Marmoset and interested in anything you read on the blog page please find out more by clicking here and having a little explore)

Enough of Top Ten Lists – The Reality of Panning for TV Gold.


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December ’twas the season to be jolly… and for critics to compile their top ten lists for the year just gone. But what do those lists tell us? It’s great to honour the best that the art of TV drama can offer, but do they really reflect the experience of the dedicated, or even average television viewer?

I’m a screenwriter, and I do a bit of reviewing, so I have a professional interest which perhaps leads me to watch more TV than most, but while we aim to learn from the best in our craft, what can we learn from the rest of it – the ‘quite good’; the ‘enjoyably disposable’; the downright dreary; and the ‘for-God’s-sake-someone, please-put-me-out-of-my-misery’. So it was, at the end of 2022, I thought I’d keep a note of everything I’d seen over the last twelve months. What will that tell me about where the art form is at the moment? Or, perhaps, the list will reveal more about me. Obviously, nobody can watch everything, but I realised not without a little shock, that I’d sat through over seventy TV series, albeit not all of them to the bitter end. As samples go that’s not too bad. I should also add that I saw sixty movies in the cinema.

What my mother warned me I’d become when I was a child…

What follows is a list… quite a long list, actually a set of lists and stats – I mean people, do it for sports, so why not take a leaf out of their book? – so please, just skim through – but that’s the point of the exercise, to see where the nuggets of gold lie in the context of all the grit and fish droppings at the bottom of the sieve. As I started to put the list together, the various categories started to define themselves. If you start losing the will to live… that’s the point too, but it would be great to compare notes.

Here we go!

The Premier League (Series I Bloody Loved): This is the most conventional list: twelve shows that really floated my remote, the ones that became the cornerstones of our week when their episodes dropped. I watch most of my TV with my wife, Gail, who does a proper job – stressful and completely knackering – i.e. she’s not a media luvvie, and so her intolerance for tedium or indulgence sets the bar pretty high! In ordering this list, I’m not thinking solely about quality, but rather about how much the show has stayed with me, and the visceral pleasure it inspired, or the soul-shaking sadness it evoked, which ultimately is the most important quality of all for a piece of story-telling. Did it make me say to myself, for whatever reason: ‘Yes! This is what watching television is about!’?

12. The Baby (HBO/Sky) – This horror comedy about a baby with murderous, supernatural powers disappeared under the radar, but it’s an intelligent show exploring the mucky emotional underbelly of modern parenthood (8 30 minute episodes).
11. 7 Lives of Lea (Netflix): A French YA supernatural drama in which a teenager discovers the remains of a dead body, and finds herself mysteriously living seven different lives, thirty years before, in a quest to unravel the truth of the boy’s murder. While some aspects are well trodden, it is ultimately a moving twist on familiar time-loop tropes (7 episodes – of course!).
10. Red Rose (BBC3): Witty and gripping, this YA tech chiller distinguished itself by being firmly rooted in the Bolton community where the action is set, and shows off a sparkling cast of new young talent (8 episodes).
9. The Dropout (Disney+): Perhaps over-shadowed by the flawless Dopesick in 2021, this 8 part dramatisation of the debacle that was Elizabeth Holmes’s Theranos project, buckled under its own weight at times, but was gripping enough to stay in the memory and was held together by a striking central performance from Amanda Seyfried (8 episodes).
8. For All Mankind – Season 3 (Apple TV): The second season of the space-race counterfactual had embarrassingly jumped the shark, but moving on to Mars the show found its rocket boosters again, and was a compelling and convincing dramatic hypothetical (10 episodes).
7. This is Going to Hurt (BBC1): Adam Kay’s sour, but riveting take on the realities of being a junior doctor in today’s NHS, was brilliantly played by Ben Wishaw (prepared to make the character challengingly unsympathetic) along with a standout supporting turn from Ambika Mod as the ill-fated Shruti (7 episodes).
6. Better Call Saul – Season 6 (Netflix): This final season may not have been the strongest overall, but it was, nonetheless, a satisfying conclusion to the greatest love story TV drama has ever known, and worth the ride if only for the jaw dropping sight of Rhea Seahorn suffering a complete emotional breakdown on an airport bus (13 Episodes).
5. Chucky – Season 2 (Syfy): It’s all to easy to turn your nose up at the psycho killer doll, but this is a lovingly crafted, super smart show (8 episodes).
4. Firebite (AMC+): Not a fan of vampires normally, but this gritty Australian series, set among First Nation Australian vampire hunters in the opal fields north of Adelaide, is an original take on the genre, and layered with deeper meaning (8 episodes).
3. Four Lives (BBC1): Neil McKay’s sensitive account of the murder of four gay men in Barking, exploring how the case was badly mishandled by the Metropolitan Police (4 episodes).
2. Severance (Apple TV): By far the most original genre series for some years. Impossible to explain, you just have to see it, and immerse yourself in it, and enjoy Christopher Walken and John Turturro shining in supporting roles (9 episodes).
1. The White Lotus – Season 2 (HBO/Sky): We had no right to expect that Mike White’s follow-up to his 2021 comedy of manners in a luxury Hawaiian hotel could sustain another 7 hours, but relocated to Taormina in Sicily, and with Jennifer Coolidge and Tom Hollander at the centre of the action it surpassed all expectations (7 episodes).

So how does that stack up? It’s about 80 hours of top quality TV drama. Three of the shows are from the BBC, with nothing cutting through to me from itv at all, although at the time of writing I haven’t had a chance to watch Litvinenko due to the inaccessibility of the itvx platform on a pre 2016 Samsung TV (I mean, seriously???). 2 of the series were available on Sky; Disney+, Syfy and AMC+ had 1 a piece; while Apple+ TV punched above its weight with 2 standout shows. More than half of the shows were rooted in non-naturalistic genre (Sci-Fi or Horror); two were ‘based on real events’; one was an adaptation of a semi-autobiographical book; while just two were fully original ‘real-world’ dramas, with stories made-up specifically for the medium of television.

Tom Hollander & Jennifer Coolidge knocking it out of the Opera House in The White Lotus

The Championship League (Seemed Better at the Time): The next category is perhaps the saddest of them all. These are shows that felt really enjoyable, well made, all trying to do something interesting, but at the end of the year, clearly weren’t as memorable as they wanted to be. I’ve had to struggle to recall more than the positive sensation of watching them.

4. Chivalry (Channel 4): Steve Coogan having a decent stab at MeToo and Cancel Culture in the movie industry, but I’m not sure it added anything very memorable to the debate (6 30 minute episodes).
3. Chloe (BBC1/Amazon): I seem to remember that this was a decent enough psychological thriller when I was watching it, but a few months later I can remember very little about it (6 episodes).
2. Spy Among Friends (itvx): I have a professional interest in the subject matter, and Guy Pearce and Damian Lewis are on top form – possibly Pearce’s best performance – but it’s a bit of a wordy slog, that blurs into a fog after a while, and feels as if it’s going round in circles (6 episodes).
1. Inside Number 9 – Season 7 (BBC2): Normally, Inside Number 9 is one of my annual TV highlights. There were definitely a couple of standout episodes, but perhaps because of the pandemic, less of this series has stayed with me than usual. Having seen the first episode of Season 8, I’m hopeful for a full return to form in 2023. I do absolutely love this show.

Here we had 18 hours of above average material, that, for whatever reason, doesn’t quite hit its target, all of it coming from terrestrial channels. It’s primarily naturalistic, with only Inside Number 9 straying into the paranormal/horror realm.

I bloody love Inside Number 9, even when it isn’t quite hitting the mark, although this episode, The Corn King was Number 9 at its best.

League One (Filled the Time Nicely): and that’s about it, insofar as, mostly, I don’t think they were striving to achieve much more, so, in some ways, more successful than the previous category.

6. Parallels (Disney+): More French YA timeloop/parallel universe malarkey (6 episodes).
5. Around the World in 80 days (BBC1): Decent, if overly woke, updating of the Jules Verne classic, which was made for easy Christmas viewing (8 episodes).
4. Obi-Wan Kenobi
(Disney+) – I’m sick to the back teeth of the whole Star Wars universe but this rolled along nicely, while I wait for the return of Baby Yoda in 2023, MacGregor seemed a bit more committed than usual, and it was a good de-stress, especially for my better half (6 episodes).
3. Upright – Season 2 (Sky): Nowhere near as original and vibrant as the first series but very entertaining nonetheless. Tim Minchin and Milly Alcock are people you are happy to spend your evenings with. You laugh, you cry, you care (8 30 minute episodes).
2. Bad Sisters (Apple+): Not as substantial as some of Sharon Horgan’s other series, and definitely unnecessarily elongated, but easily digestible, and hugely entertaining nonetheless (10 episodes).
1. The Newsreader (BBC2): A bit of a toss up as to which category to put this one. I think it did have pretensions to be a tad more profound than it was, but ultimately was another fun de-stress, and we were rooting for ‘Gay Camera’ all the way (6 episodes).

34 hours of harmless fluff (the episodes tend to be shorter) with BBC and Disney+ sharing the honours. Three have a fantastical element with three naturalistic dramas in the field. A 50:50 split between entirely original material and series based on pre-existing properties.

Sam Reid as the ambitious titular Newsreader, and our personal hero, ‘Gay Camera’ played by Chai Hansen

League Two (Hmmmm…): Which sums up my response to the next category, four shows that absolutely held my attention, and all strove for excellence and originality, but were ultimately a bit all over the place

4. The Tourist (BBC1): An amnesiac survives a car accident and discovers the dodgy reality behind his true identity. A decent thriller that had a good pop at telling a familiar story in an original way, but ultimately didn’t quite crack it, but was a good watch nonetheless (6 episodes).
3. The Silent Sea
(Netflix): Genuinely exciting Korean riff on the whole ‘alien-amok-in-a-research-station’ schtick, with a hugely disappointing ending that had me shouting at my telly in frustration. (8 episodes)
2. Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities (Netflix): Patchy horror anthology, but with GDT in the mix, everything has the smack of quality about it (8 episodes – that would have made more of an impression kept to 6 or even just 4).
1. The Man Who Fell to Earth (Paramount+): By far my most frustrating series of the year. This had some wonderful set pieces, especially when Bill Nighy picked up the baton from David Bowie’s original alien from the 1976 movie, but veered from the excellent to the lamentable in terms of quality overall. It was a bold show though, and I was sad to see that it did not get renewed (10 episodes).

Another 30 hours spent in front of the telly box mainly grunting with frustration at shows I desperately wanted to be better, but admired for having a go, even if they didn’t quite get there. Just one from the Beeb; two from Netflix; while my favourite was hidden away on Paramount+. Again, there’s a 3:1 ratio of genre to naturalism. With a 50:50 split between original material and adaptation.

Bill Nighy as an ageing Thomas Newton gave me some of my favourite TV moments of 2022

National League (Grrrrrr…): I was engaged enough to sit through the whole of these series but left frustrated or downright annoyed as they fell apart after I’d already committed hours of my life to them.

7. Sherwood (BBC1): James Graham’s critically acclaimed polemic about the aftermath of the 84-85 miners’ strike was at odds with my own experience of those communities, and drove me nuts by not respecting the police procedural superstructure Graham was using to frame his story (6 episodes).
6. Mammals (Amazon): Started engagingly enough but went absolutely nowhere. Ultimately felt like a vanity project by all involved (6 30 minute episodes).
5. Life After Life (BBC2): Kate Atkinson’s much loved novel strove for profundity in its TV iteration but ended up a strangely hollow affair with shades of Baby Herman about it (4 episodes).
4. Trigger Point (itv1): A very very silly thriller with a couple of decent and annoyingly compelling set pieces that left me wondering why I was wasting my life like this, somehow persuaded to stick it out all the way to the insubstantial ending (6 episodes).
3. The Thief, His Wife and the Canoe (itv1): As Stonehouse is currently proving on itv1 in 2023, you’d think that people who fake their own deaths might be interesting, but they’re just loathsome and there’s nothing that can be done to redeem them or the people who go along with them (4 episodes).
2. Station Eleven (HBO): This drew me in with a timely and believable pandemic story but degenerated into a load of hippie dippy nonsense about travelling players and Hamlet, making me wish that humanity had been wiped out altogether (10 long long long long episodes).
1. The Peripheral (Amazon): This show hit the ground running with amazing production values and hooking me in with an intriguing premise, before fizzling out to an entirely forgettable anti-climax, and some inexplicably dreadful acting from the British end of the international cast. File under ‘Wasted Opportunity of the Year’ (8 episodes).

All in all, 40 hours of my life I will never get back. I’m intrigued by shows like this. You can see how they got made, but with all of them, at some point, for whatever reason, those involved lost the ability to interrogate their own work to really make them fly. They are mainly naturalistic and the majority come from terrestrial broadcasters. Three are original for TV; three are adaptations; with one based on real events.

The Peripheral – a series that is all dressed up, but with absolutely nowhere to go

National League North (We Get the General Idea): On a good few occasions, I am broadly enjoying a series, but my wife (she with the proper job and a no nonsense approach to TV drama) will sigh after a an episode or two and say: ‘We’ve got the general idea. Do we really need to watch any more?’ All of the following were pretty good, quite possibly superior to the preceding category – and were certainly critically well received for good reason – but fell pray to Gail’s devastating judgement.

9. Slow Horses (Apple+): Everyone loves this series, and I tried, I really did… I watched half of it for god’s sake, but in the end I found it all too mannered and affected and I really didn’t care what happened. I can see how good it is, but once I’d got the general idea, I could take it or leave it (3 out of 6 episodes).
8. Wreck (BBC3): After being gripped by Red Rose, the bubblegum palette of BBC3’s next YA horror, might have contributed to the sense, after just one perfectly entertaining episode, that there was no pressing need to go any further. I’d got the general idea (1 out of 6 episodes).
7. Ipcress File (itv1): Stylish, well crafted, but after two episodes… we’d got the general idea (2 out of 6 episodes).
6. The Old Man (Disney+): After an excellent start with Bridges and Lithgow at the top of their game, it didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular, and despite the quality on offer… we’d got the general idea (3 out of 7 episodes).
5. This England (Sky): Pointless and premature reconstruction of the Johnson premiership. Undoubtedly well crafted, but because we’d only just lived it, we’d had more than enough of the general idea (2 out of 6 episodes).
4. Andor (Disney+): Supposedly the Star Wars series for people who don’t like Star Wars, and executed with a refreshing verité panache – it was still Star Wars, an imagined universe surely duller than any other in artistic history. Hats off to them for trying to give it some kind of grounding in emotional reality, but as my wife put it, ‘They’re just talking bollocks, aren’t they? – albeit that Anton Lesser was talking his bollocks with Shakespearian authority (3 out of 12 episodes).
3. Rogue Heroes (BBC1): ‘From the makers of Peaky Blinders’ screamed the publicity (endlessly)… and this rock ‘n’ roll account of the early days of the SAS was classily done, but with so much emphasis on style, we’d soon got the idea, and bailed after two perfectly enjoyable episodes (2 out of 6 episodes).
2. House of the Dragon (HBO/Sky); My wife and I were glued to all eight seasons of Game of Thrones and were looking forward to this but once it started we had that grinding sense of having seen it all before and having more than a general idea of the world we were in. We again bailed after two perfectly enjoyable episodes (2 out of 10 episodes).
1. Sandman (Netflix): Love Neil Gaiman. Love the Sandman books. Great cast. Great production values. After two excellently executed episodes… we’d got the general idea, and I wasn’t exactly bored, but I really couldn’t be arsed to watch any more (2 out of 11 episodes).

In this category I watched 20 out of a potential 70 episodes – ! – saving myself about 50 hours of telly watching. As I say, most of this was critically well received but by the end of the year I didn’t feel as if I’ve missed anything. Interestingly, while just under half of these are fantasy/horror/sci-fi, three of the remaining five series are highly stylised in their own way, with only The Old Man and Slow Horses playing out as a naturalistic thrillers where the content is allowed to speak for itself. This may say more about me than the programmes themselves, insofar as I struggle to engage when the authorial and/or creative affectations get in the way, but I suspect there is a significant demographic who respond similarly.

Exquisitely realised but, well, after I’d got the general idea there was nothing to keep me there. I felt guilty because presumably they’d all gone to an awful lot of trouble on our behalf.

National League South (Gave up after two eps): I had high hopes for all of these – either glowingly reviewed or recommended highly by friends – and gave them the benefit of the doubt for two whole episodes… before giving up in boredom or annoyance. Here they are in order of guilt:
5. Moon Knight (Disney+): I’m profoundly uninterested in the Marvel universe, so I can’t quite remember why I gave this a go. I think I read a few encouraging reviews, but… but… I just don’t get the whole Superhero/Superhuman powers thing. The genre means so much to so many people I really want to be able to make that connection, but try as I might it’s the fallibility of being human that makes me interested in stories. Once you move beyond that – it’s nothing but narrative cheating – the characters cease to be interesting. I can just about hack Spiderman but I keep trying to find another one that might engage me. (2 of 6 eps).
4. Crossfire (BBC1): While it didn’t get great reviews, a lot of people were drawn into this protracted and unlikely tale of Keeley Hawes toughing it out against a hotel spree shooter. I soldiered on but even two thirds of the way through I gave zero shits about the outcome (2 of 3 eps).
3. The English (BBC2): Lots of great reviews, and my friends going nuts for it, but after two eps I was done. I just don’t ‘get’ Hugo Blick. Mannered and affected, I find it impossible to care (2 of 6 eps).
2. Somewhere Boy (Channel 4): Another show that everyone seemed to love, but I didn’t believe a word of it. I tried, I really tried (2 of 8 eps).
1. 22. Juli (Sky): I feel awful about this. In October I was at the International Screenwriters Conference in Copenhagen where one session contained a moving interview with Sara Johnson the writer of the Norwegian TV drama recounting the Oslo and Utøya attacks of 2011. It sounded amazing, and no one could fail to be impressed by the integrity of a process which sought to depict events without exploiting or exaggerating them for dramatic purposes. But… but… I gave up after two episodes finding it oddly indigestible, and frankly a bit of a slog. While undoubtedly more admirable than This England it suffered from the same sense that, stripped of artistic endeavour, it left me wondering what it was for, and thinking I’d rather see a documentary. A horrible, guilt inducing reminder that drama has to do more than simply report events (2 of 6 eps).

I managed 9 hours of the potential 25 hours of fun here. To be fair, my lack of enthusiasm probably says more about me than the shows themselves.

I don’t want to be flip about 22 Juli, so here’s a picture of Keeley Hawes on her phone (as I was) in the daft-as-a-brush series, Crossfire

Isthmian League (Gave up after – or during! – the first episode): I watched five of these to review them for Sci-Fi Bulletin and probably wouldn’t have bothered otherwise, but I approached the rest with genuine hope for some kind of entertainment. So, in no particular order…
17. DMZ (HBO): Something to do with a second American civil war. Instantly forgettable (1 of 4 eps).
16. Moonhaven (AMC+): Nonsensical drivel about something or other on the moon, looking like rural Ireland (1 of 6 eps)
15. Yakamoz S-245 (Netflix): Submarine version of Into the Night. Why? (1 of 7 eps)
14. The Fear Index (Sky Atlantic): Sterile adaptation of one of Robert Harris’s less interesting books (1 of 4 eps)
13. Rings of Power (Amazon): I am less interested in Middle Earth than I am in the Star Wars universe and that’s saying something, but obviously the Tolkien estate will do just fine without my attentions (I lasted 30 minutes of the 8 episodes).
12. The Watcher (Netflix): Straight to DVD tediosity (1 of 7 eps)
11. The Undeclared War (Channel 4): Peter Kosminsky proving that he should steer clear of anything vaguely tech or sci-fi. Overblown enactable nonsense. Computer definitely says ‘no’ (1 of 6 Eps).
10. Lazarus Project (Sky Max): Tired timeloop drivel on a par with the BBC series Paradox – the benchmark for bad sci-fi. Astonishingly this has been renewed for a second season (1 of 8 eps).
9. The Capture (BBC1): After about ten minutes I realised I’d sat through the first season of this earnest deep fake nonsense. One of those series where there’s an idea and some characters and you find yourself not believing in or caring about either (1 of 6 eps).
8. The Control Room (BBC1): 999 call centre nonsense reliant on clichés, coincidences and over-acting (1 of 3 eps).
7. No Return (itv1): Lacklustre itv thing, not quite based on a true story, reeking of straight to video (1 of 4 eps).
6. The Midwich Cuckoos (Sky): Laughably, excruciatingly, cheap and dated dramatisation of the John Wyndham classic. A real wasted opportunity. I was a bit sad about quite how bad this was (1 of 7 eps).
5. Wednesday (Netflix): Popular well-received show, but enough with the kids at supernatural schools already. Not for me (1 of 8 eps).
4. The Devil’s Hour (Amazon): Something about a social worker and Peter Capaldi and other lives or memories or premonitions… after 40 minutes of over-acting I didn’t care either way (1 of 6 eps)
3. Inside Man (BBC1): Lukewarm Hannibal Lector rehash. Why? (1 of 4 eps)
2. The Responder (BBC1): This got rave reviews and everyone I know loved it. I’m clinically allergic to Martin Freeman. I’m sure he’s very good and a lovely human being but something about actors with tics that has me scrabbling for the remote. Sorry (1 of 6 eps).
1. Let The Right One In (Showtime): This one made me angry. I love the source material having read the book twice, seen both the films on multiple occasions, and directed the stage play. Here they turned the brilliant premise of the story on its head and committed a crime against fiction. Horrible (1 of 10 eps).

There was one other show which has only tempted me to a single instalment so far, and that’s Ralph and Katie. It’s still on my Sky box, waiting for me to watch it, and I have a professional interest in drama featuring characters and actors with Learning Difficulty/Disability so I hope to get round to it at some point – one ep definitely isn’t enough – but… but… it keeps getting pushed to the back of the queue. Whether that’s about me or the show, I’m not sure.

So, Ralph and Katie aside, I soldiered through 17 of over 100 hours of unbearable drivel. Okay, three or four of these were well-received and/or popular with their target audience, but honestly the rest of them… urghhh. Eleven of the series are sci-fi or supernatural in some way, which is perhaps an indicator of how hard it is to create fantasy with real heart. Stress test that concept, peeps! While there are four BBC shows on this list, one of them was a big hit despite my allergic reaction, so the terrestrial channel isn’t as over-represented in the turkey factory as some BBC-bashers would have us believe. Again we have a 50:50 split between original material and adaptations or spin-offs from pre-existing properties.

I am rarely angered by the poor quality of a series but the premise of the TV iteration of Let The Right One In had me fuming.

Central and South Norfolk League Division Four (That difficult second album…): Sometimes you really enjoy a show but find yourself wishing they hadn’t bothered trying to reprise it.
3. Raised by Wolves – Season 2 (HBO/Sky): Season 1 was a good watch, even if it went a bit mental in the series finale. I was looking forward to a continuation of the story, but they seemed to have cherry picked all the worst mis-steps from the first outing and gaily set off from there in Season 2 (1 of 8 Eps).
2. The Great – Season 2 (Hulu/Starzplay): This pungent account of of Catherine the Great’s stormy relationship with Peter III of Russia was one of the things that got me through the darkest days of lockdown, but returning to it felt oddly unnecessary. Perhaps it was too closely associated with that scary time in our lives (1 of 10 eps).
1. Resident Alien – Season 2 (Syfy/Sky): The 2021 introduction to Alan Tudyk’s brilliant characterisation of the Alien Harry Vanderspeigle balanced comedy science fiction with a heartfelt story of a stranger in a strange land. I couldn’t wait for its return only to discover that it had been thrown out of balance and become a gags-per-minute sitcom. Horrible. (1 of 15 eps).

By only watching three out of a potential 33 episodes, I saved myself a good thirty hours in front of the TV. To be fair, For All Mankind went completely pear-shaped in its second season but returned to form this year, so all is not necessarily lost.

I shall treasure the pleasure I got from Season 1 of Resident Alien

Wednesday Night Kick About on the Rec When It’s Pissing Down With Rain (Why would you do that?): Or, that moment when you see that a show is back for another season and you grimace and say, ‘Seriously?’
4. The Pact – Season 2 (BBC1): Seriously? I didn’t meet anyone who rated this show (6 eps)
3. Bloodlands – Season 2 (BBC1): Nor this one. And it got a longer run second time round. Mystifying (6 eps).
2. Outlaws – Season 2 (BBC1): Okay so at least this was reasonably popular, I’m told, but I still don’t know anyone who actually watched it (6 eps)
1. The Split – Season 3! (BBC1): Rich people getting divorced, again and again and again. I must be missing something (6 eps).

While I’m always keen to defend the BBC… these are all BBC shows. Go figure. Netflix commissions an awful lot of dross but it does seem to be a bit more careful about its recommissions, but on the plus side, 24 hours of telly I had no desire to watch at all.

I assume it’s very good, but don’t think I inhabit the same universe as the audience who want more and more of The Split

So is that it? Not quite. There were a few teams in search of a league, namely the television single drama, the loneliest dramatic form on broadcast media. I watched three this year – four if you include the Detectorists Christmas special – I don’t think there were many more – and I enjoyed them all. Christmas Carole on Sky retold Dickens with a surprisingly fresh modern spin; Then Barbara Met Alan was an engaging account of disability rights activists in the 1980 and 90s; Floodlights was a disturbing and upsetting dramatisation of the child abuse scandal surrounding the football scout Barry Bennell; and Detectorists offered a welcome top-up of one of the BBC’s best comedy dramas. The reason I mention these is that our schedules and streaming platforms are so dominated by series, it feels as if we are losing the art of well told stand-alone story, perhaps not big enough to sustain a feature film, but worth 75 to 90 minutes of our time, without being contorted to run and run and run until the life has been drained out of it.

Challenging, informative, engaging, economical and punchy – Then Barbara Met Alan. We mustn’t forget the art – and then power – of the single TV drama.

So. Is there anything to conclude from all this, apart from the fact that the Marmoset watched far far far too much telly?

I watched about 255 hours of TV drama, out of a potential 453 hours of material I might have endured had I completed every single series, which means I lost interest in just under half the material for whatever reason. Without another year to compare it to I have no idea whether that’s good or bad. Personal taste is obviously a factor, but there was a good deal of average, below average or completely misconceived product in there.

What I know for sure is that when people talk about the 1960s or 70s or 80s being ‘golden’ eras for TV drama, I doubt I could have come up with 80-100 hours that could reasonably be labeled excellent in some way as I have here. I lived through those decades and most of what was served up to us, from a much more limited range, was pretty dreadful really, with just a few standout shows. We enjoyed it because it was all there was and it defined the times in which we lived.

Back to 2022, I’ve given up on continuing drama (soaps) almost entirely, partly because I’ve spent a quarter of a century writing it, but also because it feels like a very tired dramatic format when the stories are so repetitive and melodramatic, when television is capable of so much more. Perhaps I’ll return to it one day. It’s certainly true that too many series are over extended, and that there is surely space for more single drama, but the idea that the BBC is any worse at producing memorable drama than any other platform doesn’t appear to be born out at all, and neither is the popular notion that Netflix is somehow offering the Gold Standard for TV storytelling.

I think I’ve just taken a VERY long time to prove what we knew from William Goldman all along.

My resolution for 2023?

Get out more.

(If you’re new to the Marmoset and interested in anything you read on the blog page please find out more by clicking here and having a little explore)

Adult Human Female (or Please Can We Have a Non Binary Debate About Trans)



A couple of days ago, a screening at Edinburgh University of Adult Human Female, a documentary which poses the feminist argument against aspects of radical trans activism had to be abandoned – for reasons of public safety – after protestors blocked people from entering the screening rooms on the basis (as I understand it) that the protestors believed the premise of the film to be transphobic.

I looked for a picture of the protest to balance this image but that would have meant identifying individuals which I think would be inappropriate for a variety of reasons.

There was a good deal of angry traffic about it on Twitter of course, but I sought out a variety of sources to try to get a handle on what had actually happened. Here’s the take from the BBC. For another angle check out The National (a pro Scottish Independence daily). Here’s what The Times said if you can get past the paywall. I’m offering these links because, significantly, The Guardian, at the time of writing, doesn’t appear to have covered it at all, and more worryingly Edinburgh University’s own student paper (helpfully called The Student Paper) made an editorial decision not to cover the story for the bewildering reason that to do so would be to platform hate. To which I did find myself thinking, regardless of the rights and wrongs of the film itself, ‘good luck with your journalistic careers’.

Whether Adult Human Female is or it isn’t transphobic, a University – supposedly a place of learning and a place for the exploration of ideas – is absolutely the last place where a screening of pretty much anything should be banned, as long as the content in question isn’t a direct incitement to violence. The idea of whether something is an incitement to hatred is harder to define. I know this because my cousin, a highly respected QC, had the job of trying to prove in court that Nick Griffin, leader of the British National Party, was guilty of incitement to racial hatred. I mean, how hard can that be? Well my cousin (of whom I’m very proud) knows his legal onions and there were two attempts to get a conviction, both of which failed. So even if a group of students feel a film, presenting a set of ideas, could be seen as an incitement to hatred, that doesn’t mean it is – there is a good deal of subjectivity involved, not to mention the matter of the free will of the audience – and again, a university should be somewhere where all sorts of ideas that people find challenging can be explored, free from intimidation by those who disagree. As Mrs Merton used to say, always with a mischievous smile, ‘Let’s have a heated debate!’.

The late, great Caroline Aherne as chat show host Mrs Merton who always encouraged her audience to have a ‘heated debate’.

But, hey, I’m a writer, and addicted to ideas so I sat down to watch Adult Human Female for myself to see whether censoring others from seeing it was in any way valid.

Well… there are some issues with it. The most immediate one is that there is some lazy visual editorialising which is completely unnecessary and which undermines the thoughtfulness of the speakers’ contributions. 

There is also a tendency throughout to generalise about ‘The Trans Community’ as if it were a single homogeneous thing – an overuse of the word ‘they’ without the viewer being clear who ‘they’ refers to. I’ve known and worked with at least five people who openly identify as Trans in one form or other, and they’re all different, all individuals, just as the members of any community are. I balk at anyone lumping the Jewish community into one, and we all know the dangers of judging Muslim communities by the behaviour and beliefs of radical, fundamentalist Islamists.

I imagine that many of the speakers in the documentary would have prefaced their comments by clarifying that they are talking specifically about the more extreme end of radical trans activism – with whom there is the noisiest conflict – and indeed there are moments when this is stated explicitly, but it needs more of that. I suspect that some of that defining of terms was simply edited out, but of course I can’t be sure.

On this theme, there is a tendency to turn anecdote, or the account of something specific, into a generality. Of course there are always extreme examples of behaviour in any demographic, but one needs to be careful about citing a specific event – which may well be absolutely true – but then extrapolating that outwards, suggesting that it necessarily represents a generalised truth. There are also a few generalised statements and assumptions which desperately need a bit of statistical backup, and may have even the staunchest gender critic saying ‘hang on a minute!’ 

I’m not itemising examples here, as I think it’s best if people who are interested enough come to their own conclusions.

But having said all of that, on the fundamentals of the politics; of why self ID is problematic; the confusion between sex and gender; why the term ‘cis’ is problematic; why the mantra ‘trans women are women’ is problematic; the issues around gender therapy/medical interventions and young people; why the progressive left is in such a tangle over gender politics; the role of lobby groups; and a few other issues besides, I’m on board with 85% of what the speakers (predominantly from the feminist left) have to say.

So… it’s a flawed piece which suffers from a lack of editorial/journalistic rigour but there’s much in it of value, and much there which could and should be shared, communally, as a prompt for fair and open discussion – and while it’s over 90 minutes long I found it engrossing and, despite moments of superimposed editorial pettiness, the speakers are intelligent and thoughtful.

Is it an incitement to hatred? Well, there’s a good deal of annoyance, frustration and arguably a bit of anger, but that’s not the same as hate – unless you’re the sort of person who has never encountered actual hate nor looked it up in a dictionary, and you’re confusing it with disagreement. And it’s not in any way an incitement to anyone to do anything, aside from being an appeal to those holding one set of views to listen to some counter arguments.

It’s terrifically depressing that proponents of a cause that is supposed to be about breaking down binary preconceptions, by attempting to stifle the debate, create the ultimate binary dynamic.

Of course you can only have the non-binary, nuanced view of this film if you actually watch it.

So here’s the link.

(If you’re new to the Marmoset and interested in anything you read on the blog page please find out more by clicking here and having a little explore)

She Said (and we all need to listen… and look in the mirror)


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I wasn’t in a hurry to see She Said, as, on paper, it sounded heavy going. Two hours and ten minutes of earnest New York Times journalists trying to nail the Harvey Weinstein story? Don’t we already know what happened? Perhaps this is why it has struggled at the Box Office, although numerous news items about how the movie has bombed but is ‘terribly good really’ haven’t helped. But then a friend posted emotionally about going to see it and it spurred me on to make the effort.

Zoe Kazan, Carey Mulligan, Andre Braugher & Patricia Clarkson nailing Harvey Weinstein

Well… for a movie where we do indeed know what happened, and where 80% of the running time is people on their phones, or reporting off-screen action, this is not only edge-of-the-seat gripping stuff, but incredibly moving. I went with my wife and we were both moved to tears (Gail’s from Sheffield and she’s dead hard!).

The genius of Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s script is that it’s the tangential detail that acts as the emotional sucker punch. A Skype call where a child reveals the extent to which sexual violence has been normalised is painfully upsetting. A woman about to go into theatre for a mastectomy making a crucial choice to cast off decades of fear and oppression – and more like this – dramatise how it isn’t simply the sorry tale of Harvey Weinstein being brought to book; it isn’t about bringing down one dysfunctional and evil individual. It’s about forcing a long overdue tectonic cultural shift.

On a personal level, while I never witnessed anything on this scale, having worked in theatre and broadcast media for forty years, I’ve encountered a good deal of sexist bullying and intrusive behaviour… and, I’m sorry to say, turned a blind eye to a good deal of it, especially when I was younger in the 1980s, telling myself (wrongly) that as long as I wasn’t a participant, my hands were clean. Of course, all I did, along with pretty much everyone else, male and female, is help to perpetuate a toxic, abusive culture. I mention this, because, if you get anything from seeing this film it shouldn’t be to consider the problems it identifies as ‘other’.

If All The President’s Men is about journalists exposing a conspiracy in the highest echelons of power, She Said is about ending a conspiracy where really rather a lot of quite ordinary people have been complicit as well.

Mulligan and Kazan are both terrific as journalists Twohey and Kantor, and who wouldn’t want Patricia Clarkson as your editor???? There’s a great cameo from Samantha Morton and an incredibly moving supporting performance from Jennifer Ehle. This is a film that could so easily have been ‘worthy’ in a bad way, but it manages to be angry and passionate, and while I haven’t checked the historical accuracy yet, it certainly feels truthful (which is something different). I guess it’s ‘worthy’ in the best way possible, as in leaving me feeling that I’m not worthy… just blown away.

(If you’re new to the Marmoset and interested in anything you read on the blog page please find out more by clicking here and having a little explore)

The Tory Eye Test


You know when you go to the optician, and they do that thing?

You know??

You peer through a contraption, that makes you look like The Terminator…

…at a circle of meaningless dots and they say: ‘This one?’ Then they swap the lenses and add: ‘Or this one?’

‘This one?’ With a sing song tone. ‘Or… THIS one?’

‘This one?’ Trying to vary the tune now. ‘Or this one?’ Sounding a bit like Jeremy Clarkson.

‘This one? … Or…. This one…?’

You’re sitting there, trying not to inhale the optician’s halitosis and thinking: ‘Bloody hell, mate, they look exactly the same, only blurry and meaningless in a slightly different way!’

‘This one? … Or…. This one…?’

By this point you’re wondering whether to choose one for the sake of it.

‘This one? … Or…. This one?’

Anything to make it stop.

‘This one? … Or…. This one…?’


Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you…

…The Tory leadership contest.

You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone (The Sad Slow Death Of Radio Drama)

Yesterday, BBC Woman’s Hour proudly announced that from 17th May they are going to be on air for a A FULL HOUR! Their caps, their exclamation mark.

Get out the party poppers! No more drama!

Well, they might be celebrating with the emoji party poppers at Woman’s Hour, but back in the real world this is nothing less than a cost cutting exercise, signalling the loss of over 250 fifteen minute dramas – equivalent to sixty-four hours of commissioning – mainly of original work, which have been incorporated into the programme since 1998. It’s not just a body blow to the writing community, but this is work now lost for hundreds of actors, technicians, producers, directors.

Of course there is always a discussion to be had about scheduling. I would never argue that these things should be set in stone. There’s a good case to be made for Woman’s Hour having their whole sixty minutes. Good luck to them. Genuinely. But this isn’t a scheduling decision. That sixty-four hours of drama production isn’t magically going to appear elsewhere on the Network. It’s gone. This is just the most visible of a series of incremental cuts, hot on the heels of the erosion of the Saturday afternoon drama from a high point of forty original commissions to just twelve in the current year. No longer The Saturday Drama… it is now, effectively, The Monthly Drama. At the same time the weekday Afternoon Drama has lost fifteen minutes per week, which may not sound like much, but amounts to a further twelve hours lost commissioning, again, primarily of original work.

In total, Radio 4 has cut over a hundred hours of Radio Drama commissioning per year. At a time when the BBC is facing unprecedented pressures on its financing I can understand the attraction of a move that is saving them many hundreds of thousands of pounds. Drama is one of the most expensive of the radio genres. This is true. A sixty minute BBC radio play costs between £20,000 and £24,000, which might sound like a lot, but remember that you’d be hard pressed to bring in an hour of TV drama for less than £500,000 and most cost a lot, lot more. Once you’re into the kinds of SFX that TV audiences expect budgets regularly run into the millions, while on radio those amazing visual effects are conjured up in the listeners mind, so the production costs remain the same. Yes, some of the Audio Drama slack is being picked up by BBC Sounds but it’s hard to find concrete figures as to how much, and a back of the envelope calculation doesn’t get anywhere near them making up the shortfall.

‘Hang on a minute!’ I hear you say. ‘There’s still The Archers.’ Yes, that’s true – and the Sunday Drama remains largely untouched, although this latter slot is, according to the BBC’s own commissioning guidelines, ‘almost exclusively the home of dramatisations’. Meanwhile what remains of the Afternoon Drama is increasingly devoted to series and serials which tend to go to more experienced writing talent.

Not only is this a near critical erosion of Radio Drama, but the loss of this hundred hours is disproportionately targeted at original work, and the changes as a whole are hard to tally with the Corporation’s often stated commitment to developing voices new to radio. Where radio used to be a significant entry point into the industry, where the relatively low production costs allowed it to be a platform for untried voiced, now anyone looking for their first break is faced with an increasingly fragmented and bewildering commissioning system. Meanwhile as production shifts from in-house to independent production companies – a move that has been extremely successful in the world of television – when Radio 4 takes a chainsaw to its radio drama schedules, so they take the same chainsaw to the independent production infrastructure they themselves have encouraged, undermining the economic model that sustains it.

But it isn’t just writers and creatives who lose out. 

During the pandemic, drama has never been more important. Audiences have flocked to television – the BBC and all the streaming platforms – hungry to find solace and inspiration from the telling of stories. It is bitterly ironic that the only medium able to continue drama production virtually unhindered throughout lockdown… was Radio.

In an age when the television industry has placed drama front and centre like never before, BBC Radio 4 is choosing this time in its history to diminish its role and its responsibility to one of the greatest treasures to be found in the nation’s dramatic landscape, one that the BBC itself pioneered for nearly a century, and one that has been an inspiration to millions and a seedbed to countless artists and technicians across the decades.

BBC Radio Drama then…

Yes, there is an expanding non-broadcast presence for audio drama away from the BBC, but it’s a genuine tragedy that the Corporation seems so willing to let its status as the champion and benchmark setter of the genre slip away so carelessly. Or perhaps the decision makers are simply unaware of the consequences their actions are having.

These cuts have been happening over a period of years – and the loss of the fifteen minute drama has been challenged by the Talent Unions and Professional Associations since it was first mooted over a year ago, sadly to no avail. The timing didn’t help. There was little appetite in the creative community for attacking the BBC during a pandemic and at a time when the corporation is going through an existential crisis.

But with this very public celebration by the BBC – ‘now the drama’s gone the party can begin!’ – which left writers and creatives feeling unloved and unwanted…

…and BBC Radio Drama now.

…perhaps it’s time for a more public dialogue to begin. This isn’t a plea for an unsustainable status quo. Scheduling – and where audio drama has its platform on the BBC – most definitely needs to change, but it’s time for the industry, writers and the audiences who love to get lost in the unique imaginative landscape of a radio play, to let the BBC know how they feel, and demand that the BBC rethink its approach. An email to feedback@bbc.co.uk could be a starting point, or fill in a comment on the online complaints page at:


This writer of nearly a hundred radio dramas wants Radio 4 to learn to love drama again, and to make it – us – welcome on its airwaves, and to work with the creative community – who have felt almost completely excluded from the decision making process – to re-establish the BBC as the Gold Standard in our art form.

Yesterday’s Cold Mash


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When The Mash Report started I was really excited, hopeful for a razor sharp, banging new satire show. But I gave up after two programmes… partly because, as my wife said: ‘This isn’t nearly as funny as it thinks it is’. We’d stumble across it occasionally after that, and she would say: ‘This still isn’t as funny as it thinks it is.’ Before making me switch over.

Having said that, some of the Rachel Parris one-off pieces were very funny indeed and it was also at its most interesting and challenging with some of the Geoff Norcot exchanges. So I felt fine not enduring the whole thing live, just waiting for the occasional good bits (mainly Rachel Parris) to pop up as viral clips on FB or Twitter. But overall it had an alienating self-righteous smugness about it which had me reaching for the remote.

Give Rachel Parris her own show, someone? One where she isn’t in a 6:2 minority perhaps?

Satire at its best is surprising, exciting, dangerous and, most of all, challenging. Satire that assumes you agree with it – even if you do, especially if you do – is irksome and self satisfied. The Mash Report was, disappointingly, too often the latter.

Sooo…. is its axing a sign of right wing censorship at the BBC because Director General, Tim Davie, apparently, has his tongue glued to Boris’s backside and his aunt’s cousin’s poodle once shagged the Shitzu belonging to a Tory donor’s cleaner? The Daily Telegraph seemed to think so (but since when did I believe everything I read in The Daily Telegraph?) and so did lots of social media commentators running around like headless chickens waving their hands in the air and shouting THE NAZIS ARE COMING!!!

Fact is, I have no idea. If it was axed for political reasons then that is greatly concerning, but I haven’t seen any proof of that as yet beyond conjecture, supposition, paranoia etc. But if the Nazis are coming and it is a right wing putsch at the BBC, it’s even more concerning – because it should have been axed for not being good enough. (That’s satire, by the way).

A show doesn’t have a right to air time because I broadly agree with its political standpoint.

Either way, I’m struggling to mourn its passing because I’m hoping for something better. And as the late, great Peter Cook once observed, the comedy of Beyond the Fringe was heavily influenced by the German Cabaret of the 1930s that did so much to stop the rise of Hitler.

Who Wants To Be A Billionaire?


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Billionaires. Is it inherently wrong to have that much money? Is it ‘obscene’ (as John McDonnell said today)? Should we get rid of billionaires as some pro-Corbyn commentators (notably Labour’s Lloyd Russell-Moyle on the Emma Barnett show) have observed in recent weeks? Or simply make it impossible to have more than a billion pounds in the uk?

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No one contributed more to the popular perception of wealth than German cartoonist George Grosz

Ok, so I doubt anyone reading this would disagree that the increase in economic inequality not just in the UK, but globally, is a massive problem. But is the answer to it (is the answer to anything?) to start a populist vendetta against a hundred and fifty people whose wealth exceeds what is essentially a random number, picked out of the air because it’s eye catching and easy to remember? I’m not pleading their corner – I’m simply asking the question.

Why do we have billionaires? Russell-Moyle believes that the mere existence of billionaires creates poverty. I watched Laura Parker from Momentum expounding on BBC2’s Politics Live the other day that the only possible way a person could accrue a billion pounds is by aggressive tax avoidance, exploitation and shabby employment practices.

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Momentum’s Laura Parker believes all billionaires to be inherently dodgy

I have no idea if all one hundred and fifty UK billionaires are guilty of this, although depending on where you research this JK Rowling’s earnings have topped a billion dollars and I would be surprised to learn that she was into any of those (although to be fair I don’t know that she isn’t, she could be up to all sorts of heathen and fiendish evil for all I know).

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J K Rowling evil and heathen – depending on her net worth

I tentatively suggest that other factors are at play here, notably maths and technology. Quite simply there are more and more people on the planet, who want more and more stuff and modern technology means that it is easier and easier to sell that stuff… to all of them. Meanwhile inflation has meant that value per unit of currency has fallen over the decades.

Obscene? Or just a thing which is the inevitable result of population growth, and global consumerism and the reality that supply isn’t – nor will it ever be – globally collectivised.

Not right. Not wrong. Just maths and technology. And, for sure, probably a bit of tax avoidance and general skulduggery along the way in some instances.

So. If we did agree that having a billion pounds or more was obscene and that ultimately anyone who fell into that bracket simply wasn’t acceptable as a citizen in the UK how would we set about dealing with that?

For a start is a billion the right number? Are we talking about a billion pounds, a billion dollars, or a billion euros? Or is it just the idea of unimaginable wealth that we don’t like? If we are going to use words like ‘obscene’ where does obscenity start and acceptability finish? I mean why not £640million or £569,482.83p? Is £379m just mildly distasteful?

For it to make any kind of rational sense, you have to set a figure – just as we set a figure for top tax rates. Without a figure it’s meaningless and that figure has to be based on some kind of rationale other than blind resentment.

Shadow Chancellor, John McDonnell has made a step towards this. He has made it clear that under a Labour administration no Chief exec in the public sector would be able to earn more than twenty times the National Living Wage. That’s somewhere around £350,000.

That’s a lot of cash to most of us, but small potatoes in CEO land.  And nowhere near a million, let alone a billion. Will it re-set the dial in terms of expectations? Possibly, but I doubt it. Will it stop the best people taking those jobs? I have literally no idea. My gut says that it would change the character of the type of person who applies for this kind of job, which could be a good thing… or not. I simply don’t know.

But there is an underlying message there from Mr McDonnell. We obviously want the best people to run the public sector but the acceptable remuneration for that is £350,000 per annum and no more. Implicit in this is that when you pursue more outside of the public sector you are effectively drinking and driving, you are using your mobile phone while doing 105 down the Motorway of life. Sort of like a premiership footballer, who earn, well, an obscene amount…!

Jeremy Corbyn Tweeted today: ‘Do you know what the establishment and the wealthy few are really afraid of? You.’

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According to Wikipedia, depending on what sort of year I have, my annual earnings usually fall between the top one and two per cent on the UK earnings scale.  In a good year, there are less than half a million individuals who earn as much as I do. Although technically speaking, I am on a zero hours contract… of sorts.

I really need to know who ‘the wealthy few’ are? I mean, if I’m one of them and I’m reading Jeremy’s Tweet… then according to him I’m AFRAID OF MYSELF!!!

If I feed my profile into the computers at Labour HQ I fear they will short circuit like the Nomad robot in Star Trek!

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James T Kirk was always confounding AIs with unresolvable paradoxes

Let’s assume that all of this comes to pass, and having money – or even aspiring to great wealth and prosperity becomes a social no-no – and exceeding a billion squids (or whatever random number) is outlawed, what do we expect those people to do?  There are many devout Corbynistas who say they don’t care and good riddance if the billionaires decide to bugger off. But is that really what we want? Whilst outlawing wealth reduces inequality on paper, it only does so by cooking the books and slicing off the top of the differential graph.

We have to remember what our objectives are. If they are simply ideological – ie billionaires can fuck off – then, for sure, we can achieve that, but there’s no guarantee that in doing that we alleviate poverty at the bottom of the income scale. If our objective is to alleviate poverty and redistribute wealth, then we have to keep the wealth in the country precisely so that it can be redistributed.

You can’t redistribute nothing.

Doing that isn’t easy, and there are a multitude of economic and political approaches to achieving effective redistribution. We could argue the toss about that for months, but I do know for sure that ‘banning billionaires’ or any associated Us-and-Themery won’t get us a millimetre closer to achieving that goal. It’s just populism. Divisive. Pointless. No different at its heart that the mentality of Donald Trump whipping up the crowd at one of his rallies, with the sole objective of fermenting yet moire hate. Are those the values of the Labour Party now? I do hope not.

Please can we be smart about this and think about what we want to achieve and not who we resent, or who we can blame simply for existing. We know exactly where that kind of thinking leads.

In the meantime, I’m going to ensure that my earnings stay at £999,999.99p and not a penny more. That way all my Corbynista friends will go on loving me.

First World Problems And My Pen Of Doom!


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As visitors to this page will know, back in the heady, carefree days of 2017 I was commissioned by BBC Radio 4 to write a five-part drama imagining the UK plunging into a bloody civil war some time sort of now-ish.


This was to be no sci-fi melodrama but a tale of a Radio 4-style (i.e. middle-class) family’s battle for survival in the face of social and infrastructure collapse, set against a thoroughly researched and war-gamed political backstory.

I called it First World Problems. See what I did there?

To that end, I assembled an array of in-house BBC expertise, academics and parliamentary advisers and researchers – top people who mostly approached the task as a sort of dystopian parlour game, albeit often with a fair degree of wry amusement.

I sat down with one senior political analyst in the airy canteen at BBC Millbank. Well, for starters, we decided it would help if there was someone in the background of my scenario with the civil service in their sights. This was for the BBC so my hypothetical crisis had to work with governments of every hue. On the left that might be a fictional fixer in the image of, say, a Seamus Milne, and on the right it could be someone like, oh, I don’t know… Dominic Cummings?

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We dared to imagine this man pulling the strings at Number Ten. Absurd!

How we laughed.

That was two years ago, and it seemed little more than a flight of darkly satirical fancy. When Cummings’s tenure was announced in July, my stomach turned.

Back in the canteen, my oracle postulated that with the civil service under attack, I’d now need an irreconcilable rift in the ruling superstructure to make my story credible. What if, following a chaotic Brexit, the infrastructure is cracking under the strain: Northern Ireland is subsumed into the Republic, Scotland bolts for the exit with an illegal IndyRef 2.0 resulting in a unilateral declaration of independence? There’s a scramble for control of the nukes at Faslane resulting in an armed and deadly conflagration. The border is closed, and Westminster goes nuts. MPs from all parties try to rein in the Executive, who in turn declares a state of emergency and prorogues Parliament, literally locking the MPs out of the building.

“I mean, I can’t really see it happening”, mused my adviser. Well, as Eric Morecambe might have said, “All the right notes, even if not necessarily in the right order”.

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Eric Morecambe takes a look at my projections back in 2017

There have been rumbles about prorogation all summer, but commentator after commentator insisted it would never happen. It was staying safely fictional, until Wednesday morning.

Please God any resemblance to real events stops right here!

However, within minutes there was speculation that it would turbo charge Nicola Sturgeon’s drive for a second referendum. As to whether that would ever be granted, who knows? If Westminster tried to block it, it doesn’t feel out of the ball park to imagine an enraged Scotland doing it anyway. And if they did? There’s a creeping sense with the departure of Ruth Davidson that perhaps Mr Johnson (or Mr Cummings??) doesn’t really care if Scotland cuts loose. It would make it easier for the Tories to hold a majority at Westminster if they did, but a whiplash fracturing of the Union would, as in my drama, be dangerously destabilising.

My excluded fictional MPs form a Democratic Alliance, which sits in an alternative chamber across the city (today suggested by more than one political player in the real world).

The country splits across the middle, with the big metropolitan authorities – the northern cities – siding with the rogue DA, while the south sticks with the Government. The Royal Family is forced to take sides. We all expect Elizabeth to stay neutral but who knows what Charles or William would do faced with future decisions, especially if the democratic mandate is unclear. This, in turn, begs the question of the military and the police. To whom are they now accountable? To whom are they loyal? What happens if they are split?

Other advisers warned of food and medicine shortages (now being prepared for), not to mention the fragility of the National Grid with multi-generator cascade failures (tick) as the fine balance of our energy infrastructure is disrupted.

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When the power went, people ‘self evacuated’ and walked along the tracks.

Never mind lightning strikes, imagine if Scotland stopped exporting its power across the border to England. In my dystopian Tomorrow, they who control the National Grid Control Centre at Wokingham don’t just control our ability to keep the lights on, they control the internet, the mobile phone network, our ability to get petrol out of the pumps at filling stations, and the BACS system so integral to our cashless world. They control the country.

Far fetched? Ridiculous? Hysterical?

That’s what I thought in 2017, and just look at how much of that has either come true or is creeping nearer to the front of the queue ready to be ticked off the list. Even worse, look at how much we have normalised these things, how quickly we ‘get used’ to them. That, for me, is the most dangerous part of this. Only yesterday I was conversing with one of my former advisers who seemed content that apathy and inertia would stop any major civil unrest happening as if he hadn’t noticed that we are already careering down the slide with no idea what’s at the bottom. Like the old joke about how an optimist  is a person who falls out of a twenty storey window only to shout to an office worker on the tenth floor, ‘All right so far!’.

Just before I penned my radio epic I had delivered a first draft of a police procedural about a series of murders of gay men initially mistaken for terrorism but which ultimately turn out to be the work of a closeted muslim guy unable to resolve deep personal inner turmoil. I delivered it to my producer the day before the Orlando Club shootings about which there has been much similar (but as yet unproven) speculation. The BBC’s Editorial Policy team decreed I would have to rewrite the whole thing even though my script pre-dated reality. Last year I wrote another procedural about the murder of a man, thrown from the window of a Manchester Hotel. Pretty much exactly that happened almost exactly two months after I delivered the script. Although my hotel was absolutely fictional, the imaginative starting point had been the same building.

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The police forensic tent outside Manchester’s Britannia Hotel in September 2018

Of course, these are simply unsettling coincidences.

Or are they?

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The chicken or the egg?

When First World Problems finally aired in 2018 I was accused by organised Twitter trolls of trying to ferment unrest, but whilst the causal accusation is ridiculous, as with all dystopian fiction, if you can construct a possible narrative from your imagination, no matter how seemingly implausible, then that narrative can become reality. A few years back Prof Brian Cox and Jeff Forshaw wrote a book about quantum physics called, ‘Everything That Can Happen Will Happen’, but in the realm of human behaviour I’m increasingly inclined to think this is true, quantum or no quantum. If a person, or a group of people, can behave in a certain way, no matter how idiotic, then sooner or later someone will. Just ask anyone who has ever had to design a safety system.

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When I first saw this I thought it was a spoof…  It wasn’t. Although I have to admit a certain pride at being considered worthy of the BBC Death Cult Team.

A month after 9/11, two dozen Hollywood screenwriters were reputedly called in to the Pentagon hypothesise about ingenious and dastardly ways hostile agents could cause death and destruction across the US. I’m having difficulty verifying this, but if they weren’t, then perhaps they should have been. The dystopian and nihilistic imagination isn’t just the preserve of storytellers.

If we can imagine something bad coming, it’s worth taking our imaginations seriously – that’s what imagination is for after all – and then, hopefully, we can head our nightmares off at the pass before they become reality.

Having said that, my wife wants me to use my Pen Of Doom to write a drama about how the Amazon Rainforest is saved, or even better, some dialogue featuring a few winning lottery numbers.

And what about my fictional middle class Radio 4 family? Well you can still hear what happens to them here

Suffice it to say when they flee the city to hide out in the now intensely nationalist North Wales, it doesn’t end well. They’re English after all.

Ethnic cleansing, anyone?

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Syrian migrants crossing Hungary in 2015.

This image was the spark for First World Problems. Although not ethnic cleansing per se, I wanted to examine how my comfortable, white, English, Radio 4 loving family could end up in exactly this situation in our own green and pleasant land.

I’m still praying that my dystopian hypothetical stays precisely that.

When Is A Penis Not A Penis?


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I blame the vaccinations.

I’m 59 and a few weeks shy of a trip to Madagascar to see the lemurs (before the whole island is logged to destruction) the practice nurse advised me not only to renew my typhoid immunity but to have an MMR booster.

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The Marmoset is looking forward to meeting one of his cute Lemur cousins in Madagascar

Cue eighteen hours of slightly trippy wooziness not to mention two extremely sore upper arms. So that was any creative work out of the window. Unable to sleep – because every time I rolled over the pain woke me up – I rolled, instead, down to the tram and headed into Central Manchester to wooze in front of a movie at the city’s premier arthouse cinema, Home.

What to see in the dog days of August? I’m not sure if it’s me, or the exodus of creative talent from traditional movie making to long form TV drama, but I often struggle to find films that really attract me these days. Summer is particularly barren… there aren’t even any blockbusters I want to see. Squinting at the programme on offer I opt for Danish indie movie, Holiday – written and directed by Isabella Eklöf whose screenplay for the dark-as-dark-can-be realist Troll drama, Border, so haunted me last year. I’ve vaguely skim read a couple of reviews of Holiday (i.e. looked at the star ratings) and seem to remember that critics have quite liked it. So in I go.

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Great poster for ‘Holiday’ starring Victoria Carmen Sonne

Ok. I need to be up front about this. I didn’t make it to the end so I am not offering any kind of considered critique of the movie itself. No one can do that without watching the whole of something. To do so would be dishonest and wrong.

I blame the vaccinations. Or The Penis. Or perhaps a heady (!) combination of both.


Spoilers ahoy – stop here and come back after you’ve seen the movie if you’re intending to take the plunge!

What follows below is a bit spoilery but not too much as it’s hardly a movie that depends on plot surprises. I sensed that most of the other people in the cinema knew what was coming (so to speak). Basically it’s the story of Sascha (Victoria Carmen Sonne), who (in film terms) is a sort of gangster’s moll (yes, the movie – and I – would eschew such dated and sexist terminology, but in critical terms that’s the genre/movie iconography we’re dealing with here). She’s on ‘holiday’ in Bodrum, Turkey, with her drug gangster boyfriend, Michael who is a violent, jealous misogynist.

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Lai Yde as Michael giving his best violent misogynist on a white sofa performance

For the 70 minutes or so I watched, Sascha is navigating his controlling, simmering violent possessiveness. He owns her. He owns everyone. But especially her – and she is his to use and abuse (graphically) as he chooses. The question those first seventy minutes poses is how much is she prepared tolerate? Is his assumed ownership of her somehow to her advantage? Is she helpless or is she complicit? Will she exploit it at some point?  Will she fight back?

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We get the point about Michael pretty quickly

As the holiday progresses she meets a friendly Dutch guy, Thomas, in an ice cream parlour and strikes up a more tender, if flirtatious (on both sides) relationship with him. Michael spots the connection between them and you know it’s not going to end well (although who knows, perhaps they all make up in the final reel and start a socialist commune in Aarhus. Like I say, I didn’t make it to the end.).

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Thijs Römer as friendly Thomas the nice Dutch chap

The whole thing is photographed at an unsettling and icy distance. The Turkish sunlight is bright and glaring – but never warm. We are never allowed to engage with Sascha – but we are invited to look at her, almost askance, to scrutinise her behaviour, and to judge her.

Then there’s… The Scene.

I should have read the reviews more closely.

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Kicking a lackey downstairs turns most movie drug lords a bit rapey

About fifty minutes in Michael has just beaten up one of his lackeys for messing up some drug deal or other, and he’s tense and angry, and so naturally he can only let off steam by vaginally, and orally raping Sascha and then ejaculating in her face.

Lawks a-mercy!

It’s played out in real time, in a continuous wide shot, in all its full frontal priapic and jizz-spurting glory.

Eugh. I’m literally hiding behind my iPad, thanking my lucky stars this isn’t a 4DX screening where they shake you around in your seat and spray your face with droplets!

I’ve seen some explicit movies in my time but this is just HORRIBLE.

Which I guess is the point. Although then I’m thinking… WHAT point exactly? My mind is racing.

I already know that rape is a terrible, terrifying, violent act. Do I need to see it? Does this actress really have to simulate abuse in this way to evoke this disgust in me? Hang on…. Is she simulating it? That purple greasy bell-end – moistened by Michael’s spit – looks pretty real to me – as does the glob of cum hitting her directly in the eye. (NB I am using this explicit language deliberately in order to express the graphic quality of the movie itself). So… what? Is the actress this guy’s partner in real life? What was the audition like? Even if she has consented to this, isn’t it still, effectively, abuse?

For sure, when the BBFC certificate came up at the beginning it did say ‘scenes of graphic sexual violence’ but I didn’t expect it to be this graphic. I look around and suddenly notice that the rest of the cinema is almost exclusively male. Men on their own. There are just two women in the screening. Did these guys know something I didn’t? Are they getting off on it? This is a foreign language ‘art’ movie, but what we’re seeing is the commonplace of a lot of pornography. A woman being horribly raped and the man firing off semen in her face. It is often said that the distinction between pornography and art is context, but any sense of context has completely gone now. Maybe I’m over thinking it – but my brain is now unable to watch or absorb the film as I try to decode what I’ve seen. But hey – ! – if I didn’t stop to think about it – if I didn’t worry about not just the story but the execution of the act for our entertainment – surely that would make me some kind of psychopath.


I hang on for another fifteen or twenty minutes… until the sexual violence starts up again and then I’ve had enough.


This scene may well have ended with an innocent game of Twister but I’m afraid I didn’t stay to find out.

I’m hopeful that this film, written and directed by a woman, has some intelligent point to make, and all will make sense eventually, but in my newly vaccinated state I can’t help but think that there is no point to be made (of which I wasn’t already aware) that would make this onscreen sexual brutality worthwhile. But then I think, I’m staying with this purely because it’s by a woman director – a Danish woman director – and therefore it must somehow be inherently ok – it’s ART for God’s sake! – but if this exact same story with these exact same shots came from the camera of, say, Michael Bay, I doubt very much that Home would be screening it.

I’m off – as are another two audience members (including 50% of the female contingent).

On my woozy way home I turn my iPad back on (it has other uses than purely as a cinematic jizz shield). Checking out a few interviews with director Eklöf she is keen to defend the scene by saying that it’s not pornography because there are no close-ups. Seriously? Never come across the idea of voyeurism as a form of pornographic titillation, Isabella? There’s more than one kind of porn. I think to avoid the porn tag you really REALLY have to be doing something far more clearly not focussed on the visual representation of the explicit sexual act. I wonder also if she is assuming that what she is showing is so horrible that by definition it can’t be considered pornography. If only. Pornography is in the eye of the beholder. So to speak.

The other thing I learn is that it was a prosthetic penis after all.

I would say that I found that hard to get my head around – but I won’t as it sounds like a truly terrible and somewhat confused double entendre.

Ok, so it’s a fake cock. Does that make it better? It looked so real to me I assumed it was as real as the penises in Baise-Moi or Stranger By The Lake (which were the genuine article, complete with steaming ball-fresh semen). So if I am fooled by the member’s seeming verité then surely I HAVE to worry about use of a degrading sexual act not just as a narrative device but as something done to an actress on a movie set for a piece of paid entertainment. On the other hand, if I know in advance that it’s a rubber prosthetic, then it’s fundamentally trivial. It’s only pretend and it’s all about the artifice, and I’m no longer really concerned about the character. I’m just wondering how they got the jizz to fly out so convincingly, and ‘wow that still must have hurt when he stuck it down her throat’. Imagine having to fill out the risk assessment on that!

It now does precisely what devalued screen violence does. Whilst you might be alarmed by watching someone getting punched or slashed in a movie, you know it’s all fake so it’s rarely affecting. Unless of course you are either a) gullible or b) excited by the simulation of violence for the sake of entertainment. Indeed, I have (purposefully) adopted a fairly flip tone in this blog as to some of the things depicted in Holiday – serious issues of course – but I can, because now I know it didn’t really happen. It was just rubber and maybe a bit of CGI. The artifice invites me to stand my seriousness down.

Like I say, I am offering no judgement as to Holiday as a movie – I didn’t see how it resolved which I sincerely hope was in a worthy/intriguing/challenging way – all I can comment on is the stuff I saw, but I know I wasn’t alone in being driven from the cinema… and if that happens then surely the movie has failed.
Who is it for?
Does Eklöf want me to stay or to leave?
And if I do either of those, what does it say about me?
Assuming I do hang around, what is it trying to say and to whom?
Most fundamentally of all, does that thing need saying, does it need saying in that way, and if so, why?

There are also wider questions about art and cinema here. Do we need the dangerous moments in cinema to be obviously fake – or does this reveal something problematic with the self importance of film drama – a fundamental flaw/confusion in its aspirations to realism? If something looks real should we assume it isn’t – is that a healthy assumption or just an abdication of responsibility? If we do know it’s fake – or discover the fakery after the event – does that make it any less problematic?

For God’s sake, when is a penis not a penis?!?!

I stagger home, and crash out, hoping to sleep off the worst of my vaccination, comforted by the thought that in a few weeks I’ll be in Madagascar and I won’t have to worry about such questions…

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Sweet little Lemurs who know nothing of explicit Danish art cinema…