When I was told that for the second year in a row, the BBC’s soap Eastenders would have as its Easter plot a man being buried alive, I scoffed. “Of course not!” I said. “That would be ridiculous.”
Last year housewife Tanya was bored, and so decided to bury her husband Max (Kill-Crazy from Red Dwarf) alive in the woods in a coffin. Max then dug his way out and rose from the dead, and now a year later they are living together as a happy loving family and I haven’t a clue why (apart from the fact that the writers seem to think middle aged balding men are irresistible).
But last night, Phil Mitchell (another irresistible middle aged balding man) had the villainous Archie Mitchell in a pit whilst he stood above him with a cement mixer laughing away evilly. Archie is a classic soap villain in that his sole motivation is ‘he’s evil’. Of course we don’t get a cementy death in a pre-watershed popular drama, so instead Archie just gets water hilariously poured on his head. Then Phil’s mum (played by Barbara Windsor of Carry-On fame) throws him out of the house for not being a murderer. I wish I could make this stuff up.
The sheer amount of deaths and attempted murders in Eastenders recently has made me cast my mind back to those we have lost. Come with me on my journey through Eastenders-Land and my favourite horrible deaths! › Continue reading
You may know, dear reader, that the Mysterious and Magical Mr Turtlewind esq has been the subject of many a frenzied public debate. From being a celebrity chef with my classic Tarte a la Boue, to hosting dinner parties the talk of the shanty-town, and even the perennial “we know you did it but we can’t prove it so off you go” dance I do with the nice men in blue hats every so often. But what you may not realise is that I, not Mr Matt Smith, was originally cast in the part of the eleventh Doctor!
Growing up, the young Turtle would watch with rapt attention at the screen as Mr Tom Baker fought with all manner of monsters. ‘At last’, I thought! ‘Someone I can identify with, who like me has great problems struggling with cardboard boxes and likes to live in a wooden crate.’ But my childhood innocence was forever crushed when he jumped off some scaffolding and turned into a space bogey. I vowed that day upon my tear-stained copy of The Junior Doctor Who Guide To Scorpion Training that if ever the chance came, I would take up the mantle of the errant Time Lord myself and steer the Tardis to even more muddy planets.
So it happened that some time last summer I was busy in my daily routine of scampering down the canal path catching butterflies in my mouth, when I was passed by a barge. › Continue reading