destructobase or 2010 Torchwood competition?

We need a Torchwood competition...now read on...

Like many, I watched the Torchwood series this week, not as a fan exactly, but as one who expected some good plotline compressed over a few days. I thought the idea of aliens using children as drugs was sufficiently evil, if somewhat Matrix-like.

The original trade of 11 of children back 40 or so years ago and the later consequences was clever thinking although I had a bit of a problem with the step change from a dozen to millions as the next logical increment. They must have been passing the kouchie an awful lot back on that tentacular planet.

The stock film of London Town and Cardiff got a large airing though, for the location signposting. Perhaps a spot of Michael Mann/Spooks editing would have compressed some of this to good effect. I suppose the HD viewers could wonder why the streets were both traffic jammed and deserted at the same time.

And speaking of Spooks, in that series they are fairly cavalier with their lead actors, expending them whether or not the replacement character is already in view.

The difference with Torchwood is that it has a broad fan-base including many from the Doctor Who environs. So the snuffing of a lead like Ianto after a couple of others were erased in the last series leaves a conundrum if the series is expected to go anywhere further.

The gender politics of the series was also something of a vanguard and this has no doubt suffered a few setbacks if the plan is to keep Torchwood as a brand.

Slightly more into the storyline, there were some interesting ideas dealt with quite rapidly - I know many have been used elsewhere, but there was sufficient to keep one guessing:

- keeping the thunderbolt space alien landing in London almost secret
- handling the chanting kids as a kind of bemused news static
- self interests around deciding who to protect
- children being used as alien drugs
- the essence of the trade ‘just 12’ turning into ‘ten percent’
- resolving who gets selected (the epsilons, of course)
- the lack of challenge of the decisions
- the tiny coterie of involved individuals
- the obedience of the military
- the good ol’ “reverse the polarity of the standing wave” moment
- the final sacrifices to resolve it
- no ‘not really dead’ resolutions (except Jack)
- the blemished hero

Maybe Russell T Davies and co have decided to shut down Jack on earth. Perhaps he is about to go intergalactic?

So here’s my suggestion: I think the BBC could have a fantastic coup now to open a competition to rewrite the last episode of that series of Torchwood.

A different ending x 5. Public submissions and then professional scriptwriting.

Start the petition.

Parallel universes anyone?

Oh - and let's not forget the other space aliens with proper space ships that landed 27 years ago and have been holed up in District 9 in Southern Africa.
Click to explore the zone


And good prequel mini-doc here:

amphibious for linear and non-linear space

A small joy of quietly sitting drinking a coffee today was reading a random discarded magazine, which had the intriguing front page story about amphibious aggregation of non linear rights.

I decided to look at the pictures instead and worked out its something about the excellent 'Green Wing' being re-shown on telly.

alleged hacks hacking hacks off public figures

The technology of digital phones is supposed to make call interception more difficult. By chance I watched the Wire yesterday evening which had an episode about it taking more than a week to get a tap onto a 'pay as you go' mobile.

Today's Guardian allegations imply that there's other weak points to intercept.

My guess is that its through the voicemail, guarded by its massive 4 digit code, which for Orange used to be 1111, for Cellnet/O2 was 8705 and for T-Mobile was 1210. I guess if people change it the most likely substitution will be to their birthday date (ie DDMM* or MMYY).

So any malicious eavesdropper can take a punt that one of the default pins will work, or simply look up the person's birthday.

Three attempts should do it in most cases.

Press to hack rashbre central voicemail

* unless American-influenced, of course.

Millbank space aliens find a parking spot

I'm watching the Torchwood series this week, albeit slightly later than the original screening times. The aliens have decided to land in London in the Security Services HQ at Thames House by Vauxhall Bridge.

I'm just not so sure that this type of alien would attract as much attention in London as the one in the television series. Sure, the children freezing and chanting might get noticed, but a smoke filled glass tank with some thrashing tentacles? in London??

There's stuff like this happening every day.

Whether its silver painted statues walking around, over sized beer bottles having parties on open topped buses or just generally people with tentacles walking about, there's still plenty of Londoners who would take this in their stride. I know I've seen that gunk on walls and windows as I walk around too. I'll grant that in the TV series they blocked off the north side of the Embankment, but everyone knows that there's a cone army on continual manoeuvres in the central area.

So it could all kick off tomorrow when the aliens get angry and the tank of poison gas explodes, but at the moment I'm wondering whether the aliens got MI5 to build them a rooftop parking spot and flew in to avoid paying the Congestion Charge?

I shall still watch though, and keep a sofa handy in case I do need something to hide behind.

Plinther Group - I, Plinthian

Burdened with a surfeit of rum this afternoon (Sunday). At least its not a surfeit of palfreys, or I could end up like Henry.

More importantly, I think I have one of the last pictures of The Empty Plinth. Just before it gets grabbed by the daily Plinthers.

It will be webcammed too.

I think I may even build a link.

And here's one of the first...

eyes on virginia at the national portrait gallery

NPG for lunch yesterday, and fittingly my menu had a portrait of Virginia Woolf on it. Why? The National Portrait Gallery's restaurant balcony looks out towards Trafalgar Square which, as the many rainbow flags attested, was the destination for London Pride 's march and party yesterday.

So why? The exhibition downstairs included Virginia amongst its selection. A different picture and not one that I'd seen before. Staring into the camera whilst smoking a cigar. Defiantly Bloomsbury rules, I would say.

I found myself looking long at the brown eyes of this iconic independent feminist writer. "A room of one's own" is probably her most well known publication and was self published in 1929, with the cover art drawn by her artist sister Vanessa Bell.

I remember first picking up on Woolf when still at school; the stream of consciousness writing of someone with more history than she would admit. Child abused, promiscuous marriage to Leonard Woolf, co creator of the Hogarth Press, long relationship with Ms Vita Sackville-West, depressive and finally suicidal, filling her raincoat with large stones before entering the River Ouse.

Those eyes.

sandwiched in the jamm

The ballroom light was slowly twinkle turning under air-pressure from the darkened room when we arrived at Jamm. Ten 'o clock, we'd woven past security, the outside drinkers and the chill-out bar and drifted into the early acts of the evening.

Busy room and the Hazeltones on stage. R&B - they looked like a family, with the youngest peering out from a precisely played drumkit. A soulful lead singer come bassist and a slightly swirly keyboard player. Afterwards we headed outdoors and heard relatives of the band chatting. London locals had brought a following to Brixton this evening.

We compared other gigs of the week, having between us attended Spinal Pap (signed sign to prove it - John handed a deliberately wrongly spelled sign to a roadie, and it came back signed - we'll never know who did it, but always suspect). Then Tindersticks the next evening with deckchairs in the park and cited as an exceptional gig. And not forgetting Blur, which was -ahem- atmospheric rather than visible.

During our chatter, we spotted The Spirit arrive and mingle and then a few moments later Rock Freebase wearing his trademark cap. And a few patted down heavily tat and hatted folk carrying small items into the bar, who looked as if they'd be on stage later.

Back inside, we'd somehow missed the CC Smugglers completely, fresh back from their busking tour of Canada. Most people were spread between the outside area we'd just come from and the bar we'd just entered.

"Hello!" smiles and beams from across the way. I turn and its a Fabulous Work Colleague. "Fwasgrh", I reply "Navxtryvqw", and similar utterances until I get over my surprise and start introducing everyone. You'll detect a certain improbability about this particular co-incidence and I'll have to exchange DETAILED reasons for our co-presence when FWC and I manage to speak next week. There will be a further story I'm sure.

We regained our separate groups in time for some hard edged angry poetry accompanied by a man sitting on a wooden box. The billing said Zenyth, but when I googled a few seconds ago, that seemed to be a guitar band, so I'm guessing this was someone else. Or maybe we missed two complete sessions?

Somehow during the last number, the man with the box seemed to be adding bass and trumpet improv, and we realised that the next band were quietly jamming along in the corner. A Tom Waits moment.

By now we had drifted a little too close to the front for this type of gig. You can usually spot the danger in a crowd like this and there was one spot which moved around saying "don't go here".

We didn't.

And on they came. The Congo Faith Healers. A four piece trumpet, double bass, drums and steel guitar, with around a third of the front audience already fans. Fast sweet gravel voiced guitarist, who could play anything, spikey and soulful horn, grooooved drummer and fluid bass. They were having a blast. And so were we. Instant party as they swept through rock edged, Mexican influenced numbers, with an intensity and humour to get everyone moving. An express train was running through the room. In a good way.

Two am. Nearly time for the headliners. They wandered out to plug in microphones, test the guitar, water bottles on stage. Then they appeared. Another incarnation of the Alabama 3. They ain't Three and they ain't from Alabama. I think they'd regard Brixton (or Coldharbour Lane) as a sort of spiritual home. Now the room was rammed. The bulldog trouble was over to the far side. Several bodies away. We could relax into the set. I still had half a Sol. They threw a few waters out for those needing hydration.

no Jamm pix - so Alabama 3 subset unplugged with Kate Nash

Into "Woke Up this Morning" as they started their set - we knew it would be unplugged so the guitar of Rock and the harmonica of Harpo Strangelove made the main music, with the rest of this particular formation cracking the vocals. A game of two halves and a mystery interlude. Plenty of the good stuff played well and with full participation, plus a middle stretch which dived off into that aceeedhousestuff with freestyling turntable clicks and enough bass to start an earthquake. We were momentarily confused mid set when the house lights came up and we were asked to chant things for the new CD, apparently to be Pro-Tooled into the album mix.

Then back to business, with more from their surprisingly large catalogue of good tunes. I'll describe the gig as unhinged as indeed were most of us by this point.

Three Thirty. Out into the arc light of Brixton. People still trying to get into the Jamm. We decided to kick-out.

friday will be outlaw jamm with alabama 3

The ghost of Mississippi Fred McDowell haunting the fingers of Rock Freebase on guitar, Larry Love’s larynx looser than Howlin’ Wolf. Devlin Love’s vocals as sweet as Sister Rosetta and Harpo Strangelove’s harmonica cooking up a Sonny Terry vibe - welcome to the Delta Blues alive and kicking in 2009. In Brixton.

SWSX08

very big country house escape from rat race today

And so today's story begins.

I spent most of today at a very big house in the country.
There was rural charm, though no animal farm, in the country.
It had city dwellers and professional fellas, living life to the limit
In the country.

I had sunshine days and a heat filled haze, in the country.
There was Pimms so sweet, enough food to eat, in the country.
A kind of centuries remedy, not so Jackanory,
In the country.

In truth, it was all a bit of a blur. Pitching up at a big house, Pitching, Pimms from a pitcher and then leaving. You get the picture.

Maybe I should take a herbal bath.

London Hot Weather Warning Level 3

I didn't know we had such a thing as a hot weather warning level 3 until today, but that's what the weather people were saying this morning.

Plenty of advice about using sun screen and being sure to hydrate.

As I strolled to my meeting in Canary Wharf, I initially noticed the lack of people on the streets - were they taking heed of the 90% risk level? Of course, Canary Wharf has many tunnels which people habitually use to go between the buildings in this area, so maybe everyone was out of sight.

But then, I turned a corner to cut across one of the tree-lined squares and sure enough, it was filled with office workers watching the news on the big screen telly. Encamped on the grass without the aid of any portable furniture (forbidden), but with the aid of many sandwiches, salads and wraps from the subterranean shops.

Amber status heatwave in action.

today's meeting: cold latte better than hot late

Chilling in an early, sunny cafe this morning.

The default latte has given way to iced coffee, which is served in industrial portions. Unlike the continent, there is no side glass of iced water.

My tactic to arrive early paid off. I could plough through some emails and make a call or two. My colleague was completely melted after running from the tube perspiring a little when he arrived a trifle late.

Judging by the craned necks from others, I think I also made someone's day by leaving my (paid for) newspaper on the table. There was huge shoulder grazing interest throughout my journey for the Sport section, with its big picture of Andy Murray and a similar sized one of the defeated England soccer team.

Like many, I watched the surprisingly close tennis yesterday and wish Murray well for the next rounds. From this morning's display of close humidity, its no wonder they reached for the Wimbledon towels after every rally.

festival survival tips

Reading Maximum Bob's review of Bruce Springsteen at Glastonbury got me thinking about festival behavior.

The rashbre central tee shirts usually make it to a festival and yurt or two across the summer and this year it was Isle of Wight a couple of weeks ago but then Glastonbury simply viewed on television. I expect we'll hit Bestival or something else before the end of the season.

For overnighters, though, Glastonbury still can't really be beaten. Its the scale and the consequent variety. For some acts its easy enough to get proper front row. When we take a camera along, the artists (like Sharon Corr, here at IoW) will even respond with a pose or two along the lens.

We've also been only a few rows back for some of the guitar bands but the barrier isn't always sensible when there's muchos pogos.

Even from this slightly more distant point, it is possible to get interesting pictures to go along with the music. However, when I see people attempting to make recordings from near the front the power of the bass speakers destroy any fidelity.

I regard these festivals it as 'topping up' with some live music rather than dedicated listening though. The main bands normally get television coverage whilst the interesting side bands are nearly always edited out. This year I could make a completely different non headliners track through Glastonbury and enjoy it just as much. Fortunately some of the recordings have made it to the BBC's online set coverage although I don't know how long the sessions will be available.

One of the tricks is to remember at these events is that the fan base changes for each band, so with the exception of a few die-hards, there is a consequent opportunity to be sited where one prefers. No great problem to spot the demographic for the Maccabees at IoW. Or to notice that the obvious way into this particular stage area is not the best way to get to the front.

In any case, it sometimes its fun to stand further back and get the effects of the weather. Here's The Long Blondes at Glasto a couple of years ago, handheld phonecam in the rain.

My main point is simply to go with the flow. Glastonbury is a huge venue with plenty of stages, so part of the fun is to not be in the middle of 40,000 muddy and steaming people listening to Pendulum unless you really want to.
.

So beyond the festivals, the rashbre central advanced listening model works quite well. Its surprising, particularly around London, how often there will be good bands playing in small venues on their hopeful way up.

Nothing wrong with an occasional stadium or park venue, if you know what to expect, but there's fun in being able to sit a few feet from the band in relative comfort with tickets than can be as low as £8. We saw the excellent Low Anthem a couple of days ago sitting in row 7. We've already got similar tix for Amanda Palmer later in the year. This Friday we're planning to become outlaws.