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Did you see Holy Flying Circus last night? Didya? Didya?? I mean, Oh! Em! Gee!!!

I was very dubious at the start, I’d seen a few previews and wasn’t sure at all if I was going to like it. I was worried it was going to be too consciously clever, but not even a little bit,  it was perfectly pitched and brilliantly done and weren’t they all superb? Charles Edwards as Michael Palin especially. And do you think they originally wanted Matt Berry for Producer Alan Dick, because Jason Thorpe was totally stealing his schtick. And God really is Stephen bloody Fry! ‘Christ, why don’t you grow up’. (giggle). Oh, and the nerdy fan writing to complain, because it was 1979, but it’s BBC4 and no one’s watching, so who gives a fuck? And Geoffrey McGivern was in it, and so was Steve Punt who was always destined to play Eric.

As should be pretty apparent by now, I enjoyed it enormously.

I’m not sure what’s happening on the telly these days, what with this and the wonderful ‘The Hunt for Tony Blair’, both in the same week. I can’t help but wonder and hope if we might entering some kind of golden age of telly; the country’s broke and people have no money, they have to stay home and many will wonder if there’s anything to watch on TV. The telly peeps are strapped for cash – are reality shows expensive to make? I bloody hope so. Is it too much to hope that we’re in for a stretch of good, watchable comedy and drama, where proper actors speak lines that real writers have written. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

I’m already quietly happy with the switch from property and makeover shows to all the do-it-yourself, garden and forage and cook and live simply shows that are popping up on every channel. I really enjoyed River Cottage this week, now that Hugh’s gone veggie for a bit, though I miss the hair, what happened? Was it an accident with agricultural machinery, or just a whim? It looks wrong.

I’m sorry if I babble (Can the written/typed word babble? What would you call that? A wybbling? a tybble….?), but a good night’s telly is such a rarity, I am still that excited. What? You expected considered words and thoughtful opinions? You are in the wrong place, my sparkly lovechild, not when it comes to good telly. When the telly-man hath pleased me, I gush like a twelve year old girl who’s just consumed a pint of orange pop then bumped into Justin Bieber in the girls lavs and he asked to borrow her eyeliner.

And lawks a lawdy, ain’t it cold?! We may be forced to light the stove today. I woke in the night, needing the loo and it was like Scott of the Sahara outside the bed. I wanted to fight the lion.

Oh dear, I hope I’m not going to be paraphrasing Python all day, that would be sad, even for me. I’m so sorry, I’m not even from Barcelona.