The Buck Went Thataway By Silver Fox

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Firstly, I'd like to thank anyone who's pointed-and-clicked their way to my little information superhighway lay-by for a second time. It shows an entirely laudable spirit of forgiveness and optimism on your part; a spirit that you should be proud of and one that makes you very special indeed. To be honest, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. The last offering was - and let us not hide behind euphemisms or understatement, but rather plunge headlong into the round condemnation of the unworthy - ever so slightly below par.

Rather than being the trenchant, multi-layered affair I'd had in mind (a zesty mélange of light and shade; of observation, information et al drizzled over with piquant apercus, the whole thoroughly basted over with the juices of my humanist rage), my debut on the InterWeb was a ragged, unedited ramble about one subject.

Now: I'm not denying the importance of the topic, but I do think that it speaks ill of an allegedly informed and interesting piece of commentary when it is confined to a single point.

Life is a complex and baffling affair, after all, and operates on many levels - focusing on just one demonstrates an ignorance of the bigger picture, a lack of contextual awareness, and a lack, of effort and research - I mean to say, it looked like I'd just tossed it off.

Which is partly true, of course, but what you skimmed over last week before heading on to the more rewarding digital pastures offered by www.klansmenandlivelobsters.com and the like was only a rough outline. I mentioned this to the thisisUll.com kahunas, but due to a breakdown in communications (now we're back with euphemisms) it was posted as the finished article.

So, grudging apologies to anyone who struggled through the last column, and thanks for giving a poor boy from the midlands another chance.

I would like to assure you that things are going to be a lot different from now on. I've spoken to the uberwebfuhrers, and they were most reasonable, respecting my integrity, my right to full creative control, and the blood oath I took that should anything like it ever happen again, I wouldn't hesitate to remove their spinal columns and buttfuck them into an early grave with them. Righto then - vanamos!

Well I'll Mince to the Foot of Our Stairs

Well, it's finally happened. After years of denial, after the occasional sideways glance, after a few brief, nervous flirtations, the nation's favourite soap has gone full-on gay. Yep indeed; Coronation Street has at long last decided to embrace t'love that dare not speak its name.

While other shows grasped the homosexual nettle years ago (who can forget Eastenders' challenging portrayal of Colin? He was a neurotic, wine-drinking, graphic designer who agonized over his relationship with a bloke called Hugo as far as I can recall - although must confess I found many of his storylines drowned out by the cacophony of cultural barriers being shattered.), Corrie resolutely stuck to its agenda of marital strife, cobblestones, and fat men in unpleasant suits causing ructions in the Rover's Return by attempting to foist the 20th century onto the locals through such infernal media as draught lager and disinfectant in t'gents bog.

And although there has always been something inherently camp about the series, its first gay kiss (Todd and Nick) was seen by many of its longtime viewers as not only unnecessary and sensationalist, but quite possibly the harbinger of a Ragnarokesque, end-of-days scenario. Those of us, however, who didn't grow up beneath the grim aegis of Ena Sharples, will take the more pragmatic view that it's about time.

After all, if a programme can feature a serial killer (Mr. Hopwood, the hip English teacher from Grange Hill, lest we forget) can there be any moral justification for excluding the gay community?

The implication that people are less likely to be appalled and shocked by people being bludgeoned to death with shovels than they are by the sight of a couple of cats smooching behind Rita's Kabin is as laughable as it is insulting to everyone involved. So; now that t'Street has lifted its voice in a triumphal chant of We're here, we're queer, we drink Newton and Ridley's beer! all that remains is to ask, is how was it for you?

For my part, I have to say I was surprised by the level of (by Coronation Street's standards) grittiness. Normally, the show is insulated from anything perilously close to realism by a sort of protective shield woven from hotpot, cardigans, arid ecky thump dialect that died out when Ridley Scott traded Dvorjak and steep hills for the Nostromo.

So to hear phrases like filthy queer and crass, bigoted remarks like you're not a real man, are you? being bandied about came as quite a shock. At first, of course, it looked as though cosiness would prevail. When I heard Les Battersby (the show's sanitised concession to white-trash actuality) make a sniggering remark about keeping his back to the wall that wouldn't have raised one of Frankie Howerd's huge eyebrows in a Carry On film I thought that things had got about as nasty as they were going to get, so when it came, Gail Tilsley's vituperative diatribe came as quite a revelation.

Obviously, the series' mass-appeal/prime-time ethos tempered the language and took some of the edge off, but for Corrie, it was strong stuff; a genuinely offensive display of all that is reprehensible and sickening about prejudice in general and homophobia in particular.

And, as the unusually-faced Tilsley/Platt/Hillman woman brayed her litany of taunts and bile (even invoking the name of the Village People at one point) I found myself wondering about the familiarity of some of her phrases and attitudes. It was, I'll admit, a little disquieting to realise that many of the things she said were the sort of things you might hear in everyday conversations - shorn of their overt hostility, sure, but there nonetheless.

The Buck Went Thataway By Silver Fox continued..    Here

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