blamebrampton

I am very busy! And slightly disorganised!

Tue, 21 May 2013 15:02:53 GMT

Three quick things.

1. Thumb much better. Now that the bone is healed I am in that 'It's better! Oh, almost …' stage. Very annoying stage. Every time I forget it exists …

2. John Lanchester is the best. I say this not just because he keeps saying EXACTLY the things I say on several issues, which makes me think him brilliant and insightful, but also because I have finally sat down to read my way through more of his work including his essay on the District Line, What We Talk About When We Talk About The Tube, which includes this in a footnote:

'Skyfall, which came out just after the proofs of this book came thumping down on my doormat, is a welcome addition to the filmography not just of the Underground but – hooray! – of the District Line itself. The station through which Bond chases his love intrest, played by Javier Bardem – sorry villain, I mean villian …'

3. A British woman ran down a cyclist, did not stop, TWEETED ABOUT IT, and was then pursued by the Norfolk Police who, on reading her Facebook account, found photos she had taken of herself tailgating, tweeting while driving and doing 95mph.

The police, bless em, are on the case, while the cyclist was not badly damaged. You can read an account of the saga here.

Just remember kids: there is no such thing as road tax, car drivers' time is NOT more precious than cyclists' and you hold us up as much as we hold you up, and yes, I am sure you have seen a cyclist go through a red light: today I had a bus go through a red light in front of me and yet another pedestrian try to commit suicide by running out onto the road without looking because she could not hear me due to earphones (I heroically avoided her, because that's the kind of law-abiding cyclist I am) and a moron turn left across me despite the fact I am now wearing a bloody hi-vis vest to go with my four bike lights and four wheel lights (next accessory: bike-mounted bazooka). Can you tell I idiotically read some of the comments on the Guardian's report of this story? GRRRRRRR!

And in a post-script, BIG HUGS TO YOU ALL. I don't say that often enough, and a couple of you need some cheering up while others deserve a hearty cheer. Current hair colours: dark red, white stripe. Current number of bicycles owned: three, but one is for sale. Know anyone in Sydney who wants a 51cm Miyata?

Eurovision 2013 final!

Sun, 19 May 2013 10:18:21 GMT

The finals are here! Twelve hours or so after they were there! The blessed ABC has not spoiled me, my social media blackout for most of the day and not checking any news sites has seen me reach this evening with NO IDEA WHO WINS! I am even ignoring Twitter. It's lovely.

Opening sequence is delightful, with a little caterpillar creeping through Europe (did the Minuscule team help there?) And now he spins a little cocoon and pupates into a beautiful Eurocaterpillar! Flying across the Orison Bridge and into the bright lights of Malmo in time for the anthem of the contest, which is surprisingly good – perhaps not that surprising given it was mostly written by half of ABBA. The choir is rich and sweet, just a lovely sound!

And now the contestants march in behind their national flags in a sort of EuroOlympics moment. Krista from Finland shows her knickers in her spin, bless. Birgit is still wearing her shower curtain. Oh Estonia, never change your brilliant oddness. And Armenia partying down the walkway, still in double denim. The Hungarians are apparently already drunk, the hottie from Iceland popped on a formal jacket for the occasion, because they know how to show respect for a big occasion in Iceland. And the tiny little man whose name I forget is making love hearts with his hands. He really is the sweetest.

And Petra Mede is in a giant fuchsia formal coat dress with thigh split and matching ankle boots. I do not pretend to understand her fashion choices, but I have been endlessly entertained by them! And another shout-out for Australia! Hi Petra! Great Australia joke! We love you guys!

And here we go!

France to kick off the evening, Amandine Bourgeois with 'L'enfer et moi'. Good bluesy opening, hard rock chick look! She's a little Marianne Faithful, a little Amy Winhouse, a little Chrissie Amphlett, and Courtney Love's hair. Song's rather catchy, but her frock is a leather-fringed disaster and the less said about it the better. I like the backup singer's afro! Big arms from Amandine, and some good mic stand work. She's been studying Aerosmith there unless I am very much mistaken. Ooh, it's come over all passionate towards the end! And a bit shouty, but still on key, so good work. Good start!

Now Lithuania: Andrius Pojavis with 'Something'. I thought this song confusing in the semis, I think it confusing in the finals. But he is very handsome. His leather jacket a little too 90s, but on him it works. Is that a Livestrong rubber bracelet on his arm? Ooh, someone should have a little word with him. Oh, no, it's a bandana, in what looks like the South African flag colours. Good-oh. Song is still rubbish, alas. I have no urge to name my shoes, no matter how often he promotes the idea.

Number three is Moldova's Aliona Moon with 'O Mie'. She is still wearing her vinyl frock that they project pictures onto, and I still think this song is all shades of meh. I wonder where treacle_tartlet is? She is meant to be online so we can mock it at each other. Probably being a good parent. Possibly asleep. This singer really does look like a Dolly Varden cake by the end, but points to her for selling the song so well while towering ten feet above the stage!

Interviews! Bonnie! YAY! And Finland's Krista, who is so delightful that I am prepared to look past her shoes. Oh Bonnie, you're still my fave, though. Krista reveals a cheerily bisexual streak. I hear you, darling. You're a gem! Bonnie tells us that she has a bit of chiffon to blow in the wind. And other clothes, too.

And it's time for Finland now! Krista with 'Marry Me'. It remains a bright Aqua-esque poptastic track and I feel we covered all the salient points in the semi recap, so I am off for a cuppa. I do quite like the 'Oh, oh, oh-oh a-ding dong' refrain, though. Sam Pang is re-using his jokes from the semis. No shame.

Spain! ESDM with 'Contigo Hasta El Final'. I have a strange love for a bagpipe opening, and now the singer is appearing, walking barefoot through the smoke machine mist, wailing … about the fact she is a canary-yellow frock with gold chain shoulders. She should be grateful that Israel is keeping her safe from worst frock of the comp, but that is a cruel thing to do to a beautiful young woman. It's all downhill from that opening. Standard Europop with a big chorus. Good voice, good band, very big hair on the smiley bow-tied boy guitarist, but as you will note from the fact I am talking about the fashion rather than the song, it's just OK. Nothing we haven't heard before, however well done. Shame, they deserved better!

Belgium! Emo boy! Roberto Bellarosa, with 'Love Kills' and epic eyebrows that just won't quit. Bieber could learn a lot from this boy. I bet Roberto would never abandon his monkey. He'd never be so cruel as to buy one in the first place. Just look at that earnest little face. My fave athletic backing dancers with their awful routine are back. They are actually quite good, the choreography just works to hide the fact, instead going for a Robert Palmer 1980s feel. Dear Roberto, so young, so fringey, so serious. You're really quite the talent, but I hate your song so much that I can't do it justice.

Estonia! YAY! Birgit with 'Et Uus Saaks Alguse'. Something I forgot to mention the other night is that it starts in black and white, which is a lovely retro touch. She is still wearing her shower curtain, but she is very lovely, and her eyebrows are a welcome relief. It's all very nice. Someone in Nashville should buy the rights and release an English language version as it sounds like something from the top of the country charts. I'm going to finish my cuppa. I still love you, though, Estonia! And that is the best hero note of the night!

Now for Belarus, with Alyona Lanskaya singing 'Solayoh' and emerging from her disco ball in a flurry of glittery fringe. Is it just me, or is this song something Barry Manilow would have been proud of 30 years ago? They're all tremendously pretty, though, and she has a thoroughly decent voice. Fab backflip from one of the dancing boys! She does look ever so slightly terrified: I know her government are well dodgy, have there been threats if she doesn't make the top five? And now for the pyro. Of course. Incomprehensible all round.

More interviews backstage, and Julia Zemiro's Italian is worse than mine. HURRAH! Her French is immensely better, though. The Italian singer is a sweetie. The Swedish one is, too: first he throws Sam in a wrestling move, then he kisses him. I like you, Robin.

Malta now! Gianluca with 'Tomorrow'. Ah you cheery little hipsters who would all be perfectly at home in Hawai'i. I've just realised how enjoyable the percussion is in this song. And the ukulele is triff. It's a simple little song, but it's the sort of thing that could do very well in the voting. I think the audience is using the projected words to sing along. It's good he's here, because I worry about some of the performers coming off their heels: he has the training!

Russia's Dina Garipova with 'What If'. What if I took this opportunity to have a loo break? Perfectly lovely singer, just yet another meaningful song, basically. Meh.

Germany! Cascada singing 'Glorious', which has been widely decried as a rip-off of last year's winning song. Why is she standing at the top of a flight of stairs? Random stadium stairs stuck in the middle of the stage at that. It has a tiny bit of the Euphorias, but not a lot. Her dress is to dresses as a mullett is to hair and just as wrong. Ooh. Not sure what note she was going for there, but I don't think it was the one she hit. Still, extra points for being able to get around in those heels!

And now it's time for Armenia, the Dorians with Lonely Planet. I refuse to listen to this song again on the grounds that it makes no sense, and there is more denim than I should be expected to face. So Dorians, you look like lovely men and can all sing well. You deserve better than this song and those clothes.

Petra is back in her big pink frock, revving up the audience. 'Standing around me are the hard-core fans. And to you I have just one thing to say: You just haven't met the right girl yet." I love her.

Anouk from the Netherlands with 'Birds'. It's about love, about birds, about minor keys, about being Very Meaningful. I can't help feeling it would be improved by a ukulele. Some lovely harmonies in there, though. God, it seems longer than it did the other night … Maybe I should have watched Doctor Who live so I could fast forward through these bits …

ROMANIA! CESAR! If Freddie Mercury were alive, this would be his favourite thing of the year. 'It's My Life' is the song and it contains Dracula coats, a bare chest, a giant crucifix on said chest, a soaring counter tenor and mostly naked dancers. These people genuinely understand Eurovision! It's just occurred to me that the pink girl dancer disappears when the gold girl dancer comes out, which means she spends the last part of the song napping under the fabric. Genius.

BONNIE TIME! The UK, with Bonnie Tyler singing 'Believe in Me'. I am not convinced this is in the optimal key for her. Let's talk about her outfit instead: I rather like the chiffon-edged tunic, which is mostly flattering for the older lady, and she still has amazing legs. It's coming together more in the second verse, but I confess, it's no Total Eclipse. But she still brings it to the stage in terms of big voice, big hair and big arm gestures. And don't the crowd just love her!

Sweden's Robin Sternbjorg with 'You'. He is a wee darling, and a fiendish wrestler judging by his earlier performance. And basically this is Russia's song a bit butched up and with good backing dancers. Oh, no, I take it back. Big dance anthem chorus and driving beat following. I am distracted by the dancer with the big man bun. How can he do a headspin with that thing? I feel certain this song will appear as the interval track in a spin class near me any week now. I can feel my heartbeat maxing just thinking about it. Very nice, though.

Hungary's ByeAlex is back with 'Kedvesem'. And I can't face the Zombie Fairies again. Basically, hipsters without the engaging enthusiasm of most actual hipsters. Time to put some soup on for dinner!

Denmark! It's the Shakira impersonator, Emmilie de Forest with 'Only Teardrops', which is apparently the favourite. I do like the pipe at the start and the drumming throughout. And her eye make-up is quite perfect. In truth, I really do like her. She is super-pretty and has a very fine voice that brings a lot of colour to the song. The song itself is self-consciously anthemic, but well made for all that. It'll probably win, or be beaten out by someone ridiculous.

ICELAND! Oh you are so beautiful, Eythor Ingi, if only 'Eg a lif' were a more interesting song. I think this is a very clever performance on Iceland's part, because it shows that they produce beautiful Viking men with fine voices, and good pianists, and stalwart backup singers, without any threat of destroying the economy again by winning the ECS. Well showcased, gentlemen.

Farid is back, representing Azerbaijan, with 'Hold me' and it is just as spectacularly odd as it was in the semis. To recap: he starts singing on top of a giant perspex box, then the camera pans back to show a man in the box, who flips himself upside down to mirror Farid's moves throughout the song (the axis moves from vertical to horizontal once Farid jumps down off the box). This makes no sense, and then a girl in a red frock with a forty-foot train appears. The frock has an exoskeleton spine. Then rose petals blow up inside the box. The girl and the box man start to make eyes at each other. Then she stares at Farid. Then it all ends. Who knows? Fools will give you reasons, wise men never try.

Interviews again. Nick one of the drummers from Ireland, with his shirt on. Hard to recognise. His tatts *were* tribal rather than Celtic, Mouse wins her argument with her partner. Nick is also a cheeky bugger, bless him. Julia interviews the French girl, in French, but I am not paying attention, so I got 'you are beautiful and it's a great song.' There was more.

Greece! Koza Nostra with 'Alcohol is Free' and they are a little less perfect than in the semi: I suspect someone in the government called them in a panic saying 'For the love of Zeus, don't win!' Still super-charming, though. Greek ska is enormously better than Greek alcohol. The moustache action at the end remains the perfect final note.

Ukraine and their giant American, carrying on Zlata Ognevich so she can sing 'Gravity'. And now he's gone again. I think he should have stayed around for a whole beauty and the beast theme. Or Gargamel versus the Smurfs … Zlata is standing on a rock in what is apparently meant to be a forest, with four other singers also out for the evening. This song reminds me of something by Heart, or at least from that era. So does her hair. And there's a touch of 'Love of the Common People' lurking in there, too, which is no bad thing. Ends with smoke and pyro. And why not.

Italy, 'L'Essenziale' by Marco Mengani, who is wearing a suit! Ooh, very classy! Ah, it's the serious romantic Italian song, where he declares that he is worthy of her love. And now I am lost. I am rubbish at languages. Love isn't sensible, something something … Oh fuck it. He's a hottie, he's singing well in Italian. That's all you need to know. Not convinced by his earring, though.

Norway! Margaret Berger with 'I Feed You My Love'. Do it for pingrid! Apparently the drummer has a PhD in artificial intelligence. Over-achiever. A spot of Electrovision. All very nicely done, exactly as in the semi. Her dress is still spectacular at the same time as looking rather restrictive. But she looks strong enough to rip it off and run out in her scanties in the event of an emergency. And then probably run back in to rescue Richard Branson's mother. I hope they do well!

Georgia have Song 25, Nodi Tatishvili and Sophie Gelovani with 'Waterfall'. They are both excellent, but I hate this song. Time to check on that soup!

Loreen has just had a tweet appear in the twitterstream: they really are keen on us down here!

Ireland's Ryan Dolan with 'Only Love Survives'! Topless drummers! Interlacing! What appears to be a kevlar jacket! Topless dancers! Ah, it has everything. He's another who is good enough to nearly win, without incurring the financial penalty of actually winning. A lot of that this year. And so much more dignified than Jedward or that bloody turkey.

And that's it! Voting time! Or, for me, soup time!

Now they're interviewing Graham Norton. That's just cruel. If someone could post me a DVD of the British telecast, I'd be ever so grateful.

Petra's dress tonight is by Jean Paul Gaultier again, and he has worked out all of the issues from last night: it's madly fab. Recap time. Oh, will it never end?

And now to the home show. It's Loreen, barefoot with feathers this time and her jumpsuited backing dancers, rocking out three songs. Oh, now the backing dancers are in burqas. It's getting odder, there is aerial work and … oh, we're back to Euphoria. Safe ground there. Her kaftan has grown in the last year!

STOP VOTING! Petra is back in yet another frock. And another bit about Swedish culture, which is darkly hilarious. Soldiers under fire having a group discussion about whether or not to attack, the PM being told to put his washing away, 'So where do the Swedes go to let out their frustrations? Abroad, to your countries.' Love it.

Now Petra has a song and dance number with Muppet and Bergman references. IT IS UTTERLY GENIUS! Abba, IKEA, recycling, public transport, Pippi, Vikings, buxom blondes, paternity leave, you name it, they riff on it. THERE IS EVEN A REVEAL! And gay marriage! Oh Sweden, I do love you so. Petra is the BEST PRESENTER EVER!

Word in from treacle, technological problems at her end have been responsible for her silence. We look forward to the NBN!

Bonnie Tyler is begging for votes. The Italian chap is sorry we can't vote for him. The Irish chap is charming. The Swedish chap is adorable. The French lass is Courtney Love's classier twin! The Moldovan man has BEAUTIFUL MANNERS and is a delight!

Petra is back! We are going back through the history of Eurovision again! And laying into 'Bloodu Johnny Logan', bless her! Jon Ola Sand is in with the results, which he needs a couple of minutes to verify, so he is stalling, as an intro for a fabulous rendition of ABBA's The WInner Takes It All! This woman has the best hair since Adele. And a great voice.

And finally, the votes. Each country gives 1-7 immediately, then reads out its 8, 10 and 12. I'll just recap those, because there is a limit to my typing speed.

Votes from San Marino! 8 go to France, 10 to Malta, and 12 to Greece! YAY! Good call!

Sweden (very anime man!): 8 to the Netherlands, 10 to Denmark, and 12 to Norway. No shock.

Albanian chatty hipster: 8 points to Hungary, 10 to Greece and 12 to Italy! HURRAH!

Who gave a point to the UK?!

The Netherlands: 8 to Malta, 10 to Denmark and 12 to Belgium. He is very excited.

Austria: 8 to the Netherlands, 10 to Italy, 12 to Azerbaijan.

UK: 8 to Greece, 10 to Russia (REALLY?!), and 12 to Denmark. 1 to Ireland, which is either harsh or economically sympathetic.

Israel: 8 to Denmark, 10 to the Ukraine and 12 to Azerbaijan.

O to Estonia, alas.

Serbia: 8 to Russia, 10 to the Ukraine and 12 to Denmark, who are starting to stretch a lead.

Ukraine, whose chap has amazing hair and eyebrows: 8 to Moldova, 10 to Azerbaijan and 12 to Belarus!

Hungary: 8 to Malta, bless!, 10 to Denmark and 12 to Azerbaijan.

Denmark currently 73 to Azerbaijan's 62

Romania: 8 to Norway, 10 to Azerbaijan and 12 to Moldova. It's closing! They gave 3 votes to Bonnie, madness!

Moldova: 8 to Azerbaijan, 10 to Romania, 12 to Ukraine!

Estonia STILL 0. Madness!

Azerbaijan: 8 to Malta, 10 to Georgia and 12 to Ukraine.

Norway: 8 to the Netherlands, 10 to Malta, and 12 to Sweden, no surprises there.

OH! The skirt on Petra's frock!

Armenia's chap sings his hello. I wish he hadn't: 8 to Greece, 10 to Georgia and 12 to Ukraine,

Italy: 8 to Norway, 10 to Malta, and 12 to Denmark.

Estonia still 0. Harsh. Finland will help that.

Finland: 6 to Estonia! YAY! 8 to the Netherlands, 10 to Hungary, and 12 to Norway!

Spain now: 8 to Denmark, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Italy. Also, 4 to the UK.

Belarus: 8 to Russia, 10 to Azerbaijan, 12 to Ukraine! Who are closing in on Denmark.

Latvia: 8 to Norway, 10 to Estonia! YAY! GO THE BALTIC BLOC! and 12 to Russia.

19 countries left to vote. When will this end?

Bulgaria: 8 to Armenia, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Azerbaijan!

Finland are second-last on 7. That's unfair. Though those shoes were awful.

Belgium: 8 points to the Ukraine, 10 to Denmark and 12 to The Netherlands! I boggle.

Russia: 8 to Belgium, 10 to Greece! YAY! and 12 to Azerbaijan.

Malta: 5 to the UK, bless you, 8 to Italy, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Azerbaijan.

16 votes between first and third.

Estonian hottie: 8 points to Denmark, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Russia.

Germany, it's Lena!: 8 to Iceland! YAY! 10 to Denmark, misannounced as Norway! And 12 to Hungary! Lena is sacked.

Iceland: 8 to the Netherlands, 10 to Norway, 12 to Denmark, which is expanding its lead again. Might be unassailable by now.

France: 8 point to Azerbaijan, 10 points to Italy! YAY! And douze points to Denmark.

39 point lead, 10 countries to go.

Greece: 8 to Ukraine, 10 to Romania and 12 to Azerbaijan.

Ireland: 7 to the UK, so much kinder than we were. 8 to the Ukraine, 10 to Russia and 12 to Denmark.

Denmark: 8 to Sweden, I am not shocked. 10 to The Netherlands. Surprise! and 12 to Norway, which I typed before she said it. Scandi bloc is strong in this one!

Montenegro: 8 to Greece, 10 to Denmark and 12 to Azerbaijan.

Slovenia: 8 to Italy, 10 to Russia and 12 to Denmark. I think that's probably sealed it.

Georgia: 8 to Ukraine, 10 to Armenia and 12 to Azerbaijan, but it's too late.

FYR Macedonia: 8 to Norway, 10 to Italy and 12 to Denmark. And that's it: it's numerically impossible for them not to win!

OMG! They are calling it at this point! We are going to hear the remainder of the votes for the places.

Cyprus: 8 to Azerbaijan, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Greece. Rightly so.

Croatia: 8 to Italy, 10 to Denmark and 12 to Ukraine.

Switzerland: 2 to the UK, 5 to Iceland, 8 to Greece, 10 to Hungary and 12 to Italy! Very lovely, Switzerland!

And finally, Lithuania, who loves Bonnie Tyler: 3 to Estonia! 8 to Georgia, 10 to Ukraine and 12 to Azerbaijan, who come second! Hurrah!

Denmark is making their way to the stage and she is updating her Facebook status as she comes down the corridor. Hugs from Loreen! Trophy! Flowers! Mic pack! Earpiece! Petra's Giant Frock! Reprise!

Well, that was all very enjoyable. I am fairly sure I will need a year to get over it.

Eurovision 2013 semi final two

Sun, 19 May 2013 06:52:04 GMT

Better planning tonight. My friend Mouse has organised a party, where most of this recap was written. Alas, because there are many small people, we are watching downloaded clips rather than the televised show with commentary. This has been confusing. Which is why I have also watched my recording of the televised show since then to inject a little reality into my reflections.

It was worth watching the whole show, as the pre-contest dance act is quite splendid: dancers are recreating the old orchestra, each 'playing' an instrument … and now there are BMX and skaters on a slope. OK, I'm a bit confused, especially now the slope is a laptop mixing the music, but it was clever, dynamic and fun to watch, so YAY! Go Sweden!

Petra the hostess is back, with her legs on full display in a frock that is flat-out weird. Gaultier, allegedly. Look, he has issues, and they are all on full display here. Good structural couture work, though.

First is PeR from Latvia with 'Here We Go'. They are SO SHINY. A Jedward-esque level of jumping. These boys are very aerobically fit! I appreciate the fact that one has left his top undone. Very mainstream hip-hop based pop, but I like the moonwalking that looks like something an actual astronaut would do! A few notes missed, but extra points for the crowdsurfing! All this space stuff, is it a delayed Neil Armstrong tribute, or are they jumping on the Chris Hadfield bandwagon?

Valentina Moretta with Crisalide for San Marino: she starts unconscious on the stage and I suspect she should have stayed that way. So insanely waily! A tribute to rhythmic gymnastics with that big glow ball, though. If she does a walkover, I will reassess the whole thing.. Awful frock, screaming for a reveal. The choreography is just odd, there's a hand gesture as though she was checking her Facebook status halfway through. A reveal at last! The frock underneath is not stellar, alas. She's come over all a bit shouty now, but it's less awful than I thought it was going to be. At least she can sing.

Esma and Lozano from FYR Macedonia presenting 'Pred Da Se Razdeni' and after the first three bars I have decided this is a great moment to grab a snack … OH NO! I was completely wrong! Total change, he's been joined on stage by someone who is almost certainly a local cultural treasure, and it's at moments like this I realise we can never really fully understand other cultures. Later reviewing of the telecast tells me she is the Queen of the Gypsies, and she has an amazing stage presence and voice. However, she is wearing an enormous red frock, that makes her look like a small ambulatory volcano mid-eruption. How is it possible that with that much frock they still have her mike pack exposed at the back? Do love her headscarf, though. Originally boring man has been invigorated by her appearance and the whole thing has perked right up. The backing singers have been dressed by someone who hates both of them, but the singing is all there.

Local broadcast moment where they interview the talent and Julia starts singing again. Oh the humanity! Sam later sings with one of the lads, which is better, and Julia takes to dancing with Finland. I would give someone's left leg for Graham Norton right now, and their entire lower body for Terry Wogan. The lad Sam was interviewing is bloody funny, though. Oh, he's the next act!

Here is he, Farid Mammadow from Azerbaijan 'Hold me (I'm going to fall off this giant box)'. It's possible that subtitle is not official, but he really is standing on a giant perspex box. I know he's only a little fellow, but really? And now there's a person underneath! Who is standing on his head! And mirroring Farid's movements. If they swap places and clothes at the end I will give this 100 points. My friend Mouse says box boy is meant to represent his evil twin, while my friend Fliss declares she doesn't like his velour suit, though does like the good mirroring and mild homoerotic subtext. And there is ANOTHER girl in a red frock for the evening! We are convinced her long train will be the curtain that hides the box while the boys swap places. And now there are rose petals impersonating a lottery draw in the box. Also, the red dress has an exoskeleton and pouffy mini front. This is completely insane. I feel that EVERY idea that was brought to the planning table has made it into the final performance. Actual song perfectly fine classic pop, performed well, but that isn't what I am going to remember about this performance.

Representing Finland is Krista with 'Marry Me'. The singer is a punk barbie who seems to have killed a couple of My Little Ponies for the frock . I know Burlesque is big in the Baltic but really? And the 'boys' in the purple penguin suits look very much as though they were running gentlemen's clubs in the 1960s. Actual song not bad: Katy Perry would love it. Veil on the singer, now. It really is about weddings. Reveal! The penguin men are now bridesmaids! Is the one on the left actually a man? I think it's just unfortunate hair, actually. Oh, it's wholly unimportant, be whoever you are young backing dancer! Fab victory rolls on the backing singers: WWII hair has been very big this year. Performance-wise it's not bad but Krista's shoes are so awful in their giant fuchsianess that I can't keep track. Lesbian kiss! Jumping in those shoes! That is one fit young lass.

Malta have hipsters with a ukulele and I really like them! The singer is Gianluca, who is a doctor back home and the song is 'Tomorrow', and not only is there a ukulele, but it's one that is played well! Lyrics broadcast on the wall behind them for those who like to sing along. He's like a cool Bruno Mars. Disturbingly, I like everything about this performance and feel I could be good friends with every single band member. It's freaking me out!

Elitsa Todorova and Stoyan Yankulov are representing Bulgaria with 'Samo Shampioni'. This song has has big drums and a bagpipe! Elitsa has a massive smile and quite a good voice. I like the traditional costumes and the drumming is good, but the song is one of those very strident Bulgarian tunes that I am too tired for at the moment. The backing singers in traditional dress are standing Very Still Indeed. It's all very well performed, but there's nothing to really hold onto as a three minute pop song, with a lot of shifts in vocal mood, at the same time as the drums sort of overwhelming everything. If there were a Eurovision Drum Contest, this would be the winner.

Iceland Really? The quite handsome Eythor Ingi, who looks like the lovechild of Alexander Skarsgard and Tim Minchin, singing 'Eg a lif' (sorry for the lack of accents, typing on the iPad), which is a lovely and sweet ballad, but the sort of thing you get in a lift in those parts of America where they play only Christian music stations. This party has good snacks, I am going to take advantage of the break. Eythor is so much better than this song.

Interviews again, Eythor is there, even more beautiful in his civvies. His voice IS enormously better than that song suggested. I knew it. And Margaret from Norway in her fab dress. She is lovely, and cheeky. And a hot Greek! Eurovision would not be Eurovision without a hot Greek. Stuart the man who produces all the acts on the stage for the last three years says, 'I gave up years ago trying to have any conversations about taste.'

'Alcohol is Free' from Greece – probably because it's retsina and they can't give it away (joke from the crowd, alas, I would have been proud to make it). Koza Mostra, featuring Agathon Iakovidis, who has the finest moustache in the competition to date. They sound like Madness with a balalaika vibe, or Golgol Bordello, in fact. Plus points for the kilts that look like football kit crossed with traditional dress and pretty boys, there should be a deduction for the piano accordion, but I am enjoying it too much. The neon-edged instruments are a nice touch. ZORBA DANCE! Ten points from me! In fact, stuff that, DOUZE POINTS! Easily my new faves, though I am not sure Greece wants to pay for the comp next year …

Israel have sent Moran Mazor, singing 'Rak Bishvilo' and she has possibly the worst frock of the entire competition. Though I rather admire the fact she has decided to wear Nana Mouskouri's glasses. Great hair, though, but I am so distracted by the frock that I can't focus on the song at all. It's poorly fitted black bodycon with a plunging neckline and fishtail, plus sequins and white piping designed to make her looks as though she has thighs of doom. She is really a very pretty girl, but this frock is a disaster and has a freaking giant white zipper up the back. Voice from the back asks, 'Why is she wearing those glasses? It's not as though she has to read anything!?' This song would be immensely improved by her costume failing to appear and her singing in jeans and a T-shirt, in which I think she would look lovely.

The Dorians from Armenia, singing 'Lonely Planet' is song 11. The singer's face has been overtaken by his facial hair. He has long hair and looks like the 'Romantic Lead' in most 1980s TV programs set in the middle ages. All of the other performers have full beards, short hair and distressed double denim. Maybe double denim doesn't have the instant fashion death reputation it has in the Anglosphere in Albania? This song was designed to be played in lifts from now until the end of time. It's not bad, it's just meh. Although, PYRO! Apparently the song was written by a chap from Black Sabbath, which may explain why this easy listening tune has heavy metal pyro through the entire last third.

Hungary, more hipsters! ByeAlex singing 'Kedvesem' with a growly voice. The Zombie Fairies in the background video are cool, but we feel the song's charm relies on witty lyrics, and none of us speak Hungarian. The lead singer has a stubbly beard and a beanie, the guitarist bounces to every beat, and the backing singer looks appealingly like Red Sonja. It's all young person for the likes of me.

Norway have sent an 80s supermodel to judge from her look and outfit. Margaret Berger with 'I Feed You My Love'. She looks a bit like a young JK Rowling, in a Very Bodycon frock. The song is nothing flash, but the dress is awesome with perfect internal corsetry that she can almost move in. Strong performance, brilliant fishtail plait.

More interviews. Stuart is back and lovely. The Romanian hottie is there, warning people that he sings countertenor. I had no warning when I saw his performance, I feel this is reflected below. The Swiss entrants are also there, one of whom is 94 years old, and going strong! His great-grandchildren are apparently very proud. Bless you, sir!

Petra is back with the first winner of Eurovision whose name I cannot remember but you can easily look up. She is still beautiful and cheery and declares Eurovision a fountain of youth. That many laughs probably do keep you young.

Albania open with good drums and jumping, along to some shouted Heys. Adrian Lulgjuraj and Bledar Sejko singing 'Identitet'. Once the song starts properly, it goes downhill, though. The first singer looks and sounds unfortunately like the homicidal maniac in a Swedish film. And then the vocal line throws over to a chap who looks as though he's wearing a truly awful wig, though it may just be a misguided use of product. They actually both seem as if they are quite fab chaps once you get past the unfortunate styling. Is he wearing a unitard? Guitar with pyro! Good guitar! Oh, this song is a mad mess, but they looks as though they are having fun.

Georgia brings us Nodi Tatishvili and Sophie Gelovani singing 'Waterfall'. He is so EARNEST! And so is she. Nice frock, though, even if I'm not convinced by the hip bit. SMOKE EFFECT! KEY CHANGE! RAINING FIRE! So many drinks … And now a wind machine. The guy looks a lot like Lee Mack, you know. I really have to take up drinking again if I am going to recap this next year.

And Switzerland have set loose their senior class in uniform who started off with a good drinking hoi! and then switched into a jolly strident folky tune. They are allegedly a Salvation Army band, I am told. There you go. The 94-year-old double bass player looks as though he has been kidnapped from the retirement home and forced to play, but is nevertheless thoroughly enjoying himself. David Beckham appears to be playing rhythm guitar. It's all very nice, but so wholesome, I suspect it's doomed. The should sell it to the American Christian radio stations who provide lift music! I am also impressed that a Salvation Army band can lug around a double bass.

Final song. Romania have sent Count Dracula. His name is really Cesar, with 'It's my life'. This is the most bonkers song of the contest so far: he is wearing a big frock coat with bejewelled shawl collar that looks as though it is propped up on a suportasse and standing on some sort of rocky landscape with red mounds. Starts off in normal male range then soars up into a countertenor voice, which is kind of fab, and then the landscape erupts into dancers wearing flesh-coloured unitards, which Mouse announces as pink nymphs. 'Mum, what are nymphs?' asks her son. 'People who got the rough end of the stick every time a god comes past' says Mouse. The red landscape is some sort of fabric that will doubtless come back into play. Singing, dancing, EMOTING WITH HANDS, the frock coat is going up! Cesar is levitating! I knew he was Dracula! The dancers are back under the fabric and Cesar's voice is just soaring higher and higher. And now there is a new, gold dancer on the scene and the others are wrapping her in the fabric and lifiting her and she and Cesar are reaching for each other and I have no idea what any of that meant but I LOVE EVERY PART OF IT!!!!

Recaps, cute little history of Eurovision bit with Petra again, reminding me of several songs I had hoped to forget forever. More acts saying hello to Australians who speak their own language: that's my favourite part! Even if I understand only about 5% of it. And now some Swedish pop music. Very nice. I am too tired to care deeply, but I like the maypole dress effect in the second act. However, I did prefer the first semi's interpretive dance.

Votes! Norwegian tally judge and a great joke from Petra: 'That's what we always do in Sweden, when in doubt, turn to Norway.' Here we go. HUNGARY! Really?! Bloody hipsters. AZERBAIJAN! YAY! GEORGIA! Oh so very solemn. ROMANIA! YAY! HUGE YAYS! NORWAY! Well, why not? ICELAND! Through on looks rather than actual song, but I will just mute him and admire. ARMENIA! I am surprised, but highly amused. Go for the ukulele, Europe. FINLAND! A resounding vote for gay marriage there. MALTA! YAY! UKULELE! WELL DONE EUROPE! And finally, GREECE! Oh thank goodness. I am now looking forward to the final! Which, due to my inability to post this last night, has already been shown in Europe. So I have not been able to read the news online all day and instead have made it through New Scientist, Bicycle Times AND Foreign Policy magazines. Roll on 7.30, Sydney time, I say!

Eurovision Semi Final One

Fri, 17 May 2013 12:46:27 GMT

Has it been a year? Really? AH well, here we go again with the annual Europop Appreciation Weekend, where Australia screens both semis and the final over one long weekend.

I say this every year, and every year one of you bloody Europeans spoils me, but for the love of bunnies, PLEASE PUT YOUR LIVE EUROVISION COMMENTS UNDER A CUT! I will be so pleased if I can get through one year without knowing the winner beforehand.

And now, on with the show:

LOVE the signed version of Euphoria! Some of that sign language looks a little like my French: mostly comprehensible. Bless! I had forgotten how tiny Loreen is, and so lovely.

A single host! No bad inter-host banter! HURRAH!

Julia Zamiro is extolling the joy of non-helmeted cycling. This is fine for slow riding on bike paths. In Sydney or London traffic or at speed, value your noggins! Wear an approved helmet!

First up is Austria. She is very pleasant, but the song is utterly meh. Nice voice, good voices on the backing vocalists, who have about four notes to sing, which seems a waste, slow and unaccented percussion. And now a waily waily bit. The pseudo-batwings on her top are the most interesting thing here. Oh, a hero note! And some more waily waily. I think they have run out of lyrics, as they are just repeating 'Shine' now which is, you won't be surprised, the title of the song.

ESTONIA! YAY! Please be good! Birgit is the artist and our announcers are delighting in sharing the news she is pregnant. SInging in Estonian, it's a lovely ballad with a Big Chorus. Her frock is a sort-of shower curtain ensemble with gold band holding it on around her underarms and then nothing getting in the way to the floor. There is a wind machine. The effect is half dramatic windswept, half bathroom run amok. Great hero note, though, and a really good voice. The music is Classic Eurovison in the Nice Ballad sense. I would vote for her going to the finals, but not likely to win.

And now, Slovenia, Hannah with Straight into Love. And she has brought along Daft Punk as her backing dancers! Nice. A little Electropunk in the opening, modulating into Rhianna-lite. And oh dear. She has a big bold voice but is a little uncertain in her pitch, which is either nerves or a problem with her sound feedback, I'd think. It's not awful, just a fraction of a tone off, but it's a bit grating. Still, she looks fab in her leather feathers and tight trous! Ooh, those pitch problems aren't improving as things go along, but I like the frozen sillhouette action figures ending!

How can we already be at the fourth song? Croatia with Miserja, and lovely cavalry uniforms. It's the classic European Earnest Man Song, sung by six men who clearly admire the Three Tenors. Good harmonies! Great voices! Sadly, they all appear to be in the classic Croatian Spud-faced Man mould, rather than the Croation Cheekbones Of Destiny mould, so minimal eye candy. But they look as though they would all be hardworking and faithful boyfriends. Nice flaring coat action, though! And the voices really are very good. I hope they go through!

Demark next. I am warned they have a recorder. I am nervous. At least it's not a melodica. Emmelie de Forest is the singer, Only Teardrops the song. That's not a recorder, it's a pipe! Ah, it's Denmark's answer to Shakira, with her hot boy drummers behind her. Sorry, only one is hot. The other is at least tall … The song is sort of Shakira-ey, too, but not in a bad way. It's got a nice striding chorus that is catching and driving. The bridge is a little strident … and now there are giant drums on the stage and a waily waily bit. Oh Eurovision, never change … I think it will do well.

Presenter time! Time to chat a bit about Malmo and some comedy. NICE Scandi joke in there! 'Don't complain, it's even more expensive in Norway.' Oh Sweden, bless your organic cotton socks!

Time for Russia now. She's the winner of a singing competition in Russia and the song is called 'What if'. She is in another curtain frock, but hers is tastefully chiffony with a touch of lace rather than shower, so that's a step up. Nice lilting ballad about how pleasant the world could be if everyone got along. Sing it to Putin, sunshine. Shadowed backing singers whose faces are completely invisible. 'No Mum, that was really me!' Heroic bridge, key change! DRINK! Oh, nice lighting change, we can see the backing singers now. She REALLY wants world peace, guys. The backing singers are all holding hands in what I am reading as an official Russian apology for the contretemps in Estonia by way of referencing the hands across the Baltic singing revolution.

The tallest man in America is appearing the the Ukraine's offering 'Gravity' and he is carrying on the little singer and plonking her down on a rock before he disappears. I can't pretend to understand that. Ooh, sudden timing shift after a short intro. Is that 12/8? If I paid more attention in ukulele lessons, I would know! This song sounds as though it has been recycled from the Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammer era, and I think someone who may have been a backing singer has just been a little off in that hero note. The lead singer's dress is sort of bodycon meets mermaid in beige (why do fashion editors call it nude? Almost no-one is beige.) Yeah, kind of good, kind of odd …

Anouk from the Netherlands, dressed like an art student, sounding a bit Joan Baez. This song has a strangely choppy set of changes of tone and tempo and is very hard to describe. There are birds in the lyrics and in the video behind her. They are flying. She is conveying her suffering. Possibly a touch too authentically. And she ends with 'That's why birds don't fly.' But they DO, Anouk, the DO! Look at your video!

I have made a real mess of this recap from a technical perspective: no alcohol, no snacks and no hot chocolate. I'm starving! But don't have a lot of cash for home delivery. Ooh! I have ice-cream! That could be dinner!

Song nine, Montenegro, Igranka by Who See. And they are wearing space suits. Of course they are. It's moments like this I desperately miss Terry Wogan. I'd even take Graham Norton. Julia and Sam from SBS are nice enough, but, well, NICE. And now a girl singer has come on stage dressed like the Borg Queen. I am guessing Lady Gaga is still big in Montenegro. The song is sort of Black-Eyed-Peas inspired, while not being actually inspired. Eh, I've heard worse, and I will again before the weekend is over. Her shoes are giant zebra platforms. That was unexpected.

Lithuania! The singer looks a lot like a young David Boreanaz, but I was distracted when they showed his name, so let's just call him Dave. Dave has even dressed in Season 1-2 Buffy's Angel mode. Perfectly pleasant voice, but the lyrics include 'Because of my shoes, I'm wearing today, one is called love, the other is pain.' I think this could be a sign that I am meant to go and hunt down that ice-cream. See ya, Dave. BRB.

OOH! Nutburgers in the freezer! WIN!

Belarus have snuck onto the stage in my absence and they are basically rehashing Turkey's winning song from a few years back. The singer did step out of a huge disco ball that is now rotating in the middle of the stage, and the pretty boy dancers are wearing white waistcoats with a lot of pec and arm action, but it's not enough to hold my attention, even though I do quite like her mini dress. I'm going to make a hot chocolate …

Ah, that's better. Moldova are here with Aliana Moon performing Oh Mie. She is rocking a Whitney Houston memorial dress with Sydney Opera House shoulder, Dionne Warrick memorial hair and Kate Bush tribute emoting, while her voice is is a nice light mezzo. Handsome men on piano and backing dancer duty, and OOH the frock is a canvas for a lighting effect, as though little stars are trying to climb her. And now she is rising on a giant plinth. And looks unfortunately like a Dolly Varden cake or toilet roll doll. Great effects, OK song …

Ireland have sent the work experience boy, who has only been singing for two years. He is in fact perfectly fine, reasonably handsome, good big voice, and has topless backing-dancing Robbie Williamsesque men who are also playing the big drums – those Japanese ones, bugger, forgot the name. I think this song is perfectly pitched to come about 8th. Lots of good elements very well done, without running the risk of winning through things like compelling melody or lyrics. Well played, Ireland.

The presenter is back, carefully pronouncing Malmo correctly in a 'LIKE THIS!' voice for the international presenters.

And there is an official Australia Loves Eurovision clip being shown in the programme. With Indigenous Australians dancing to Waterloo. Well, ABBA is still big over here, some things never change :-)

Cyprus now, the singer's name is Despina and she has a lovely frock and that is it. It's Austerity Eurovision. And Alexander Downer, if you are out there, the reason Cyprus's economy is in the poo is the unconscionable over-exposure of their banks, and the reason the government is so far in debt is bailing out said banks, so STOP using it as a model for Australia, a country with very reasonable government debt and regulated banks, you perfidious nit! Alas, this song is less interesting than the dress (black lace, form fitting, very nice) and Despina's hair (2012 Duchess of Cambridge). Nice voice, though. FABULOUS earrings! Lovely raised fist ending.

The Twitter stream just showed Adam Richie doing my shower curtain joke from an hour ago. We have very similar minds, but look nothing alike.

Belgium! Emo! Sideswept fringe and guyliner! Acually, I quite like the fringe: I have a hairdressing appointment tomorrow … I have no idea what this song is meant to be. Something about love, I am too distracted by his heavily groomed eyebrows, they are like tame, perfectly arched, furry caterpillars. DO like the three-piece suit, though. The backing dancers are recapping Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights dance routine, but I do like their looks and style: very strong and athletic. And we're done. Pretty, but meh.

OMG! It's the last song! Serbia! The song is 'Love is Everywhere', the band is Moje 3, the look is Barbie via downtown Tokyo. And there is a nice Sapphic vibe here: is this the song that has the 'confronting kiss'? I only saw the headlines today. Any young lasses out there keen to try wearing white and yello vertically striped tights, let this be an object lesson in why it's never a good plan. On the other hand, the victory rolls are stellar!

The presenter's recap of Eurovision history package is actually funny. You Swedes know the fine art of the sly dig, though possibly a tiny bit too much inserting the presenter into historical scenes, but it was well judged on the whole. OOH! STOP VOTING NOW! I am prepared to be horrified, as I always am.

And now the contestants speak to Australians from each of their countries in their own language. Emo boy is CHARMING! Bless his heart!

An interpretive dance segment follows. It's enjoyable in both dance and music terms, if not groundbreaking. The subtext seems to be that Sweden is cold and has an aurora. And now dancers are exploding from the floor. I can't say I'm surprised. Drums, headspins, rather good lighting effects, trousers made from bin liners … Crowd responses now, with glowsticks. I am having SUCH a flashback to Manchester in the late 80s … I liked it!

OOH! Presenter dress change. Now very purple. Including the eyeshadow and lipstick. Might have gone a bit far there. Another short film, which seems to be taking the piss out of the Great British Educational Film Tradition and David Cameron all at once. I am strongly for it.

Snippets from the Big Five and Sweden, the countries already in the final. BONNIE! BONNIE TYLER! Totally eclipsing her critics. And maybe a spot of work, because she looked older 20 years ago. But I don't care, I love her. The Sweden song is a pearler.

And now the voting results will be announced! In a random order: Moldova! Good-oh. Lithuania! GO DAVE! Ireland! Ah work experience boy, your mam will be thrilled. And thanks for taking your top off drumming man! ESTONIA! YAY! Belarus! Meh. Ooh, she has silver knickers to go with her mini dress. And I have now seen them. Denmark! Yeah, fair enough. Russia! She was nice. Belgium! Emo boy is showing emotion! Happy emotion! I think his eyebrows hypnotised the audience. Ukraine! Giant American's trip was worthwhile! And the final spot goes to: The Netherlands! Really?!

Bad luck, Croatia. I liked you, and you brought a degree of dignity to the proceedings that was clearly unappreciated by the voting public, as is so often the way. And now, off to bed, I'll be playing this game again tomorrow night and the night after …

Insatfic! Small regrets

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 13:27:32 GMT

I was about to have a nap, but melusinahp had a post, which I can't link to because I am typing this on the iPad, which is CRAP for flicking between windows (though good at other things) and although I am certain I have dealt with this briefly in another fic, this suddenly popped into my head and so I have postponed my nap and well, Mel, we may not always agree, but I am with you on the important things in Potter:

Small Regrets

Hermione had bullied him into coming back to school.

He didn't mind, her idea of bullying involved quite a bit of friendly physical persuasion and on the whole it had been a thoroughly enjoyable experience. And she had a point, too: he wasn't Harry. People intellectually knew the sacrifices that he and Hermione had made to help Harry along the way, but there was only one Saviour of the Wizarding World and he was the one looking at a free pass through life.

'We,' said Hermione, 'could probably ride on his coat tails, and are certainly owed an enormous amount by this lot, but on the whole, will probably do a lot better if we have a full set of skills under our wands, so we can conquer the world on our own terms.'

'But I just want to help George run the shop,' he'd said.

'Which will also benefit from more skills.'

And she was right, so back to school they had come.

It was strange. The rebuilding had been mostly completed over the extended post-War holiday, but the new stone stood out against the old, and the ceiling of the Great Hall was now prone to sudden, random changes in cloud formations, some spelling quite rude words, which made him wonder if Fred hadn't decided to hang around a bit after all.

He had thought that he wouldn't be able to walk through that part of the Castle at all, but it was where he lingered most, sometimes with Hermione, remembering that Fred's last words had been swathed in laughter. It was … nice.

And then there were the other students.

The first years were appalling: staring and star-struck. The slight evil he had always suspected Hermione of possessing came out as she took to running them around the castle on spurious errands, most often concerned with bringing her books and hot beverages.

The sixth and seventh years, full of repeaters like themselves, were mostly supportive, if they did spend more time at the Three Broomsticks than was probably optimal for studying.

In between were those who wanted to ask questions and those who wanted to pretend it never happened. And there were enough of each camp in the older years that details could be gained, or quiet days in the library shared.

Malfoy was there.

He thanked them as they waited at King's Cross. '… for Greg. You didn't have to, no one would have blamed you, but you did. That took courage.'

'Harry would have been annoyed,' Ron found himself saying. 'Didn't want to let him down.'

Malfoy had taken a breath and tried to speak again. 'Yes. Well, and … yes. All right then. Thank you.' And with that, he'd turned and walked away quickly, taking a place beside Horace Slughorn who had clearly offered to escort him on the train.

They hadn't seen him much since. In two weeks, he had only been a quiet figure at the front of classrooms, dashing ahead or lagging behind when each ended. He had left the welcome feast early and wasn't there at most meals.

Ron hadn't the heart to hate him anymore. He didn't even notice him much. Between studying – which was an appalling shock, but apparently he was expected to get O's this year – and being rewarded for studying by Hermione, Malfoy was at the bottom of his list of things to be concerned about.

Which was why he didn't notice him standing there at breakfast until he cleared his throat and Hermione whispered 'Malfoy' with a significant head nod.

'Weasley,' Malfoy began. 'I've been trying to talk to you since the start of term, but …' A half-smile and rueful headshake. 'We've never talked. Why start now? Here.' He thrust a letter into Ron's hands, turned and walked quickly away to the Slytherin table.

'That was unexpected,' Hermione muttered.

'Do you think it might explode?' Ron asked.

'He wouldn't have made it so public,' she replied with a smile. 'Go on, open it.'

Ron did.

Mr Ronald Weasley, the letter began.

I have already taken the opportunity to write to members of your family who have been wronged by my actions. Your brother Bilius suffered as a direct result of my ignorance and your parents suffered incalculable loss due to the folly of my family in supporting the unsupportable.

However, this letter concerns you. I wish to express my regrets for an incident that occurred in Sixth Year, in which I accidentally poisoned you with a beverage that was intended for Professor Dumbledore. I have no excuse for my actions aside from my family being held to ransom by the worst Dark Wizard of our times, and both my malice and incompetence render me entirely culpable.

I was pleased to hear of Potter's atypical intelligence in rescuing you and that you have suffered no lasting ill-effects. Nevertheless, I extend a full and frank apology for the incident and hope that with time you can find it possible to forgive my actions.

Sincerely yours,

Draco Malfoy.

Ron stared at the paper.

Hermione read it over his shoulder. She stared at it, too.

Then they stared at each other for a long moment.

'That's … nice …' Hermione began.

'Hermione,' Ron interrupted her, 'it's the worst, most-pompous, most-head-up-arse apology in the history of the world!'

She began to laugh.

'Well, yes, but at least he's trying.'

He grinned at her.

'So, should we go and talk to him?' she asked.

They hazarded a glance at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was sitting with his back to them.

'I have a better idea,' Ron said. 'Give me some parchment and a quill.'

Hermione produced both from her bag and Ron set to work.

Dear Malfoy, he wrote.

That was very good of you, and I realise it must have been very hard for you to say all of that to both me and my family. I appreciate it. I understand that you were under duress and that, when pushed, we can all do things we later regret deeply. In this vein of thought, I accept your apology and only hope that you can accept mine for borrowing Harry's Invisibility Cloak and urinating over your bedding earlier this morning; an action I now deeply regret and which makes this whole exchange of notes so much more awkward than it otherwise might have been.

Best wishes,

Ron Weasley

Beside him, he could feel Hermione, whose face had dropped into her folded arms on the table, shaking with laughter. He folded the note into a plane and sent it off towards Malfoy, who caught it from the air as it hovered in front of him.

Malfoy opened it up and read quickly. He looked up with an expression of exasperation.

'Sorry,' Ron mouthed.

Malfoy shook his head and ran from the hall, but without any invective or vigorous hand gestures. There might, Ron thought, be a glimmer of hope for the man yet.

'You didn't really, did you?' Hermione asked, breathlessly, pushing herself up.

'What do you take me for?' he replied, kissing her flushed face.

And then, because he was an honest man, he admitted, 'I transfigured all his right shoes into newts. It should wear off by Saturday, Sunday at the latest. Provided he doesn't lose any of them.'

Hermione kissed him soundly. 'I told you study would be helpful.'

'When have you ever been wrong?' he asked.

He pushed her hair back behind her ears, and let her finish what remained of her breakfast. But instead of finishing his own, he refolded the letter on the table before him, replaced it in its envelope and stowed it in an inside pocket. Because even though it was the worst apology he had ever received, it was also one of the best.

I never remember these things …

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 07:22:47 GMT

I have in the past broken hands, arms, fingers and thumbs, due to a lifetime of flinging myself off horses, bikes, rollerskates, the odd small cliff … (Gravity reliably works, alas!) So you would think that I would remember things one can and cannot do.

Nope.

Every morning for the last 3 and a bit weeks, I have put my bra on as usual, then had to take it off, do it up at the front, then swing it round to the back, as you can only do up bras with two thumbs, or considerably more practise.

You CAN weave, albeit very slowly and more clumsily than usual. I have been working on some narrowares for a class on the weekend, and it is doable.

You can sort of crochet, but it's probably best not to.

Millinery is right out, as you need a thumb to keep everything well formed. Knitting likewise. Sewing is not very possible, unless there's no need for tension and involves no short stitches, so frame embroidery with long stitch is about it

Drawing on the other hand, not hard at all!

You would think this would mean I had managed a lot of drawing practise this month. Alas, I have instead done a lot of failing at other craft. I am never going to pass my Jane Austen Accomplishment Test.

In brief …

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 13:40:00 GMT

HAPPY BIRTHDAY rabidsamfan, you're just exactly the sort of person who I hope has a long and happy life so that you can continue to make the world a better place! And I also hope for cake. There should always be cake!

If you are working in a job that manages four magazines that all have their deadline in the one week and the new person is starting in that week, do not spend your three handover days respectively going home at lunch because you feel unwell, getting drunk at your goodbye lunch, and hungover. And do consider at least warning the new person that you've done no useful work for two weeks. SO stabbity stabbity! Still, deadlines met. Dark circles under eyes epic.

You can ride a bicycle with a broken thumb! Unless your roads or paths are very smooth, you shouldn't.

Kurt Fearnley won the lad's wheelie part of the London Marathon! Yay! STUPID organisation whoever let the women runners go out before the chairs, thank goodness there were no serious injuries in that crash.

I am sure there was much more, but five hours a night is nothing like enough sleep …

Good work, New Zealand!

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 13:56:28 GMT

So, years ago, New Zealand introduced Civil Unions for everyone. And yesterday, they decided that GLBTI marriage should be legal and removed all the restrains on gender from its marriage laws.

It's easy to forget how progressive New Zealand is. They beat us all for giving women the vote, they had a treaty with their indigenous peoples and have mostly abided by it, and they are pretty damned good on carbon reduction, too.

As is so often in the Southern Hemisphere, it was the party you didn't expect who brought the reforms in. Howard the Great Conservative launched gun control in Australia, Hawke and Keating, the classic Labor unionists, brought about economic reforms that had all of the pros of Thatcherism, but without the cons. You will note that Australia's economy remains thriving!

Here it was the Conservatives who held the balance of power. The bill was introduced by Louisa Wall, a gay Labour party MP, and made it through 77-44 with serious support from the government.

Here in Australia, we can't even get a similar bill through with it being Australian Labor Party policy (they are the party allegedly in government here, but … look, I need to get over this broken thumb and new job exhaustion so that I can properly write up the lunacy …)

The lovely sly_girl linked to this masterpiece of a speech by Maurice Williamson. Everybody should be linking to it. He is my new favourite politician. The woman the camera cuts away to who is clearly filled with joy is Louisa Wall.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAY catsintheattic! I hope that everything for you is as good as Maurice Williamson! And may your cats shower you with purrs!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHEZAN!

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 13:18:01 GMT

May it be filled with loving cats, good friends bearing gifts and fine wine, and quality admirers!

In other news …

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 14:01:46 GMT

While it is well known that I think astrology is bunk, I can sometimes understand why people get the idea that it must be true, because fabulous people share birthdays so often. And today is a prime example!

VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to tinofbeans, I will bring the cake the next time we catch up!

And HURRAH for the natal day of astardanced77, you delightful young woman! I hope your husband passed on the wild hugs that were sent your way at Easter.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, too, to 17catherines! I hope that it has been filled with delicious ingredients and an entire university full of presents and cheer! If anyone who is a foodie or music person is not following her, hie ye hence! She is as lovely as she is erudite!

And on the topic of erudition, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, too, to inamac, who will actually get this message on her day (sorry Australians!) You continually inspire me with your posts and images of your world. I hope the animals are all beautifully behaved for you and that you are showered with gifts!

I had planned to write about Margaret Thatcher …

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 13:53:00 GMT

Yesterday I made my friend Suzanne promise to cheer for Kurt Fearnley at the Boston Marathon. Kurt is one of my fave athletes and I usually only get to see him at the Paralympics and Sydney Marathon, so whenever possible I send my friends out to shout inappropriate things at him (he's a bit of all right). I recognise that other people show more respect, but my peer group is more fun.

She was going to be at Mile 25, she told me. I went to bed and woke up early (for me) to check the results. I swtiched on the news at the same time as opening my iPad, and felt a sick horror as the news emerged, relieved only by the knowledge that Suzanne was some distance away, and Kurt would have finished well before, because the rollers are faster than the runners.

Social media once again showed that its true strength is in times of crisis. Suzanne and Kurt had both tweeted that they were fine. Most of my other Boston friends checked in on Twitter or LJ. The only one who hasn't is unlikely to have been there. This many miles away there was nothing I could do except send a few tweets of support and make the traditional donation to the American Red Cross.

Other people used Twitter to better effect. Emma, whose surname I missed, is an Aboriginal runner from somewhere out in the middle of the Northern Territory. She was taken over as part of the Indigenous Running Project last year to run the New York Marathon, and thwarted by Hurricane Sandy. So this year, she made it through injury to be ready for the Boston. But with about 10 minutes left in her race, she found herself caught up in a wave of hurried redirection as the racers were sent away from the end where their friends and their belongings were waiting.

News was piecey and frightening. At what had been the end of the race, her team were being evacuated and frantically trying to track down a young woman whose experience of big American cities mostly consisted of hotels and airports.

But Americans are mostly awesome. Other runners asked Emma where she was from and what they could do for her. They introduced themselves and stayed with her. Race organisers started trying to find her team, locals offered to help her get back to her hotel. Those who had phones put the word out on Twitter and reunited her with her team via social media.

Meanwhile, Suzanne tweeted that while she was shattered, she was also inspired by those emergency workers, military, medical and first aid people who had just run a marathon turn around and run back towards the wounded. She was off to donate blood, because it was something positive that she could do, and she is awesome, too.

Some of the media was dreadful, and some was good. The stories of Bill Iffrig, the 78-year-old runner who fell to the ground near the first explosion and then got up to finish struck a wonderful balance of humanity without schmaltz. His 'stuff em whoever they are' attitude was the only rational response.

And then Carlos Arrondodo, who spends most of his life promoting peace around the country, ran into clouds of smoke and blood and found himself forming makeshift tourniquets for some of the worst injured, and keeping them conscious until the paramedics could take them to hospital.

Most heartening, there was an awful lot of that attitude that some famous thriller author – I think it was Tom Clancy – brought to the CNN coverage after the 9/11 attacks, where he was the voice saying 'Hang on, remember that when things like this happen in America, it's usually because of domestic terrorism.' That attitude is so important, because whoever ends up being responsible, it's vital to remember that terrorism does not come from one ethnicity, it comes from one mindset: the mindset of hatred, and the more we do to divorce ourselves from that way of thinking, the better the world is.

I just don't have any words for the fact that parents from Sandy Hook were at the finish line. The only consolation is the knowledge that everyone around them will be holding them tight.

And because it has been such a grim day,
here is a video of a busy Melbourne tunnel that was closed off so workers could rescue a kitten. In a world where big burly men rescue kittens, there is always hope for a better tomorrow.

Sun, 14 Apr 2013 11:35:45 GMT

Clearly I wasn't satisfied with a broken thumb …

Note the attractive rash beneath the thumb. Allergic to the paper tape that holds my splint on.

Also, iPad: What's with the arm-widening foreshortening? Harsh!

In good news, swelling and bruising well down, gouges healing. Hurrah!

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 10:21:47 GMT

The French cafe down the road sells Carambars! I am unreasonably excited by this!

Having typed that, I suddenly want a Curly Wurly. The shop across the road has them! HURRAH for multiculturalism! (I accept that this is feeble multiculturalism, but I did just have dinner at the Turkish place and respond to a web survey from the Japanese bar, so it's better than my sweet selections make it sound!)

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 23:19:55 GMT

I think this may just get in under the time limit:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY cassie_black12 and schemingreader! You two are both just lovely and I feel terribly ashamed that this week's chaos has left me unable to wish something more than HUGE PILES OF GIFTAGE AND CAKE for you both! Alas, already late for work …

Goodness.

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 12:21:15 GMT

I won't say that it is sad to hear that Margaret Thatcher has died.

In much the same way that you hope for 'merciful release' for an ailing aged relative, it has been cruel to see her physical decline over the last few years and, should her philosophy prove correct, she is back with her much-loved husband.

And while I disagreed with so very, very much of what she did and what she believed, I preferred her to the current mob. At least you knew exactly where you stood with her, and she generally took her policies to the polls. And she was classier than Heseltine or Major.

There, three nice things said about the dead.

Now I would like my fucking milk and industry back.

Faff and Important bits!

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 13:23:30 GMT

I forgot to mention that a hairdressing incident saw me start Wednesday with my usual dark brown hair and end it with bright red hair. This is Mr B's fault. Quoth he: 'I think you should go back to your natural hair colour for a bit.' To which I responded: 'And just what do you think that might be?'

Ironically, it actually is the dark brown I usually dye it (my grey hairs refuse to mass in the Sontag-like stripe I desire! So dye it is), with a blue-red touch to it. Definitely not the Florence Welch red I am currently sporting, which was roughly the shade he was talking about.

Which is why when I arrived at work this morning, sans bike, avec sling, the poor receptionist, who is the kindest and most courteous of women, looked at my hand, looked at my hair, looked for the bike, and found that it was all too much and settled on: 'Oooh! Look at you, ginger!'

Which is my anecdote to introduce the important fact that today is the birthday of at least two fabulous people.

The first is the searingly brilliant shiv5468. I had hoped to be sending you my bits of our first four chapters, but this nine-fingered typing lark is patchy, so I am calling my hair a Shiv Tribute instead, though you are anything but ginger! May Sauron discover she has genital tinea! May there be good chocolate biscuits at work in honour of your natal day! May your enemies choke on them! Happy Birthday, dear! Pages to follow soonest!

Secondly, Happy Birthday to leemarchais! I hope that this year sees you writing like the wind, and with exactly zero family dramas. You're so talented and bright, and then kind on top: I hope the present fairies lose all sense of perspective when it comes to deliveries today!

And as is traditional the day after any kind of off: ow, ow, smegging ow! So many strains and bruises. I sing a hymn of praise to all those engineers through the ages whose work has resulted in piped hot water!

This is why I always wear the best helmet I can afford

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 13:22:18 GMT

See the cracks and missing chunk in this image:

That would be my head.

If you ride slowly on cycle paths or in Copenhagen, you can get by without one. Over 10kph/6mph and in mixed traffic, just cope with helmet hair. Brains belong on the inside!

So …

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 07:34:44 GMT

I succumbed two weeks ago and bought an iPad, immediately after succumbing to the lure of a full-time job on a mag that puts out an iPad edition.

Despite it being a luxury, I have been able to justify it as it will pay for itself in New Yorkers alone with the year and I have been getting a lot of writing done on it thanks to the little Logitech keyboard cover I also bought. I was in two minds about buying it a travelling case, as they were yet another expense, but I rationalised it with the thought that since I ride everywhere, I would rather be safe than sorry.

Good call, as things turned out.

It was raining this morning and I hit an oily patch of wet road while turning a corner on my newish town tyres (wide-ish, but slick) and my bike slid out beneath me. It was very dramatic sounding, but that was mostly my helmet cracking, which is what helmets are meant to do. Worth every penny spent on it and it will now join the sainted row of Helmets That Gave Their Lives So I Might Live. (Anyone who tells you that helmets aren't brilliant is talking shit or only ever rides under 10kph.)

A young couple came running up to help, as did Suzanne, the lovely woman whose house I stacked outside. I tried to brush it all off as a commuting incident. They were charming and delightful and pointed out that it might be a better idea to pause a moment until the adrenalin stopped flowing, rather than jog my bike up to the nearby shop for a new helmet before proceeding onto work, as was my initial plan.

Wise advice. As I went to peel my gloves off, it became apparent I had broken a thumb. The left one, and up the top, so minimally awful as these things go, but that meant a day spent having X-rays rather than signing contracts at work. Aside from that, a few grazes and bruises, bike was carefully protected by my body and is fine.

However, having walked my bike back home after thanking my genuinely fabulous rescuers, I decided it was time to face the music. I opened up my pannier and pulled out the travelling case. The iPad is FINE! If you are considering an STM case or a MET bicycle helmet, I strongly recommend both!

RIP Richard Griffiths

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 11:48:25 GMT

Sad news this evening that magnificent character actor Richard Griffiths has died after complications from heart surgery.

He is probably best known among my flist as Uncle Vernon in the Harry Potter films, but to me he will always be Uncle Monty from Withnail and I. It came out when I was a wee lass of 20 and was nearly the end of me when I foolishly popped a Malteser into my mouth just before he fruitily declared to 'I' that 'I mean to have you, even if it must be burglary!'

A friend at the time had the misfortune to be called Monty, and after months of being greeted as 'Monty you terrible cunt!' by everyone he loved (I believe even his mother at one point), declared he wished to be known henceforth as Featherstonehaugh-Smythe, or whatever his actual, similar, surname was.

Several friends in the land of Drama worked with him over the years and declared him as charming offscreen as on: he could have tortured orphans on the weekend and I would still be mourning the loss of his talent. I was surprised to learn that he was only 65: I am six years older than Uncle Monty was. Terrifying thought indeed!

Goodbye, sir, you were a great talent and brought much joy to many.

So, Australian politics …

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 14:12:29 GMT

Many of you may be wondering, after an eventful day, just what was going on there?

Fucked if I know.

Will try to represent the madness in fictional form on the weekend, but let me just say that it is very close to being beyond satirising.

Tips for mothers on shared cycleways

Thu, 14 Mar 2013 12:51:42 GMT

* The little diagrams suggesting that you keep left are there, in fact, to suggest you keep left.

* When you choose to ignore them and walk in the middle of the path, do not look hugely surprised when people ring their bells to encourage you to look up from texting as you walk and make you aware of the oncoming bicycle.

* On becoming aware of the oncoming bicycle and noticing that your youngest child is on the right hand side of the path, at a point level with the cyclist, who is successfully negotiating a passing manoeuvre at low speed, do not shriek to the child, encouraging the wee lass to turn around and into the bike.

* On witnessing the cyclist performing an heroic avoidance effort while travelling uphill on a loaded bike with a confused and unpredictable toddler in the vicinity, do not run in front of the bike.

* On finding your toddler wholly avoided despite your best efforts to have her killed, do not call your other daughter to you, especially when she is six and very likely to run in front of the still-moving cyclist, who has just had to veer to the opposite side of the path to avoid ploughing into you.

* When the tried-beyond-endurance cyclist suggests that was less than optimal all round, do not open your mouth unless it is to apologise. Should the first words out of your mouth be 'You should have …', do not be surprised when the cyclist interrupts with: 'Mowed you down, I know' and rides off.

And then Moushka tried to commit suicide …

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 12:27:56 GMT

Or was possibly the victim of a spectacularly cunning murder attempt. I honestly can't tell you if this story reveals her as dumber than even Monster or a secret and complete genius.

I do a fair bit of craft. Random things lurk around the house and I should probably be more diligent at putting them away. Especially the cotton yarn. Visiting Cat Moushka got her claws on a ball of cotton yarn and ferreted it into her lair. Her lair is the bottom of the sofa, where she has ripped out the lining to construct a hammock and play area.

Some time between 2am and 8.30am on Sunday she managed to swallow a length of yarn. I got up early to go up the mountains and when she popped out for her morning pat and feed, she was trailing cotton, with the ball bouncing along behind her.

THIS IS BAD! Many awful things can occur when cats swallow yarn, which is why I had watched her like a hawk every time I had been working with yarn in the living room over the last 2.5 months. She had shown mild inclination to grab at it with her claws, as all cats will, but none whatsoever to chew on it, so I had relaxed my vigilance when it came to packing everything up every night.

I put a little tension on the yarn to see if it was just in her mouth or at the top of her throat (I've swallowed enough of my own hair in my life to know how much tension is fine). It didn't come out at that, so I wailed 'Oh Mushy!' and ran to get her carrier.

This woke up Mr B, who leapt into action, telling me to keep on with my plans and go up the mountain. I had a little leeway in my day, so I rang ahead and checked trains and sorted arriving later than was planned, then ran some coffee over to him in the vet reception and joined the anxious wait.

We were soon seen, and the vet confirmed my fears. Moushka would need an endoscope at the university vet to remove the yarn from where it was, and if it had gone further down, probably surgery. It would be between $1000 and $3000.

I tried to get in touch with Moushka's actual owner, but of course it was late at night and she was down in London.

We decided that Mr B would take her over to the uni vet for endoscopy and that if we had to, we'd just wear the $1000, which is only one big story or a couple of days' work, really. Meanwhile, I had to go and catch my mountain train.

My phone rang while I was changing trains at Strathfield, I missed the call, due to running between platforms. A message beeped in: 'Problem solved, call me.'

I called. Mr B had gone home before heading to the uni, deciding that since he would likely be there for many hours, he should have a shower and put on clean clothes. At this point. Moush has either decided that life was no longer worth living, or that she should save us all a lot of money and stress. Or possibly Monster or Cookie has tried to kill her. Somehow she made her way out of the cat carrier, snagging the thread on the carrier, then ended up cornered under the study table in the middle room, with Cookie and Monster hissing at her and a long length of thread leading back to the carrier and none in her mouth.

All sorts of things could have gone horribly wrong here, from severing something, to chewing through the yarn and swallowing the rest which would then form a blockage later. We have been watching her obsessively for the last two and a half days, and she seems fine. Eating and drinking as normal, pooing away happily, purring and demanding cuddles, hiding from Cookie and Monster … Her tummy is soft, she has no blood anywhere, everything seems to be fine.

Which is just as well, as her owners have said they can't afford a big bill, and we can't really afford it either at the moment. So it is possible that she was aware she was in danger of being bopped on the head and decided to self-operate.

Mr B ran over to check with the vet to see what he should do; they advised wait and watch. They rang me today to check on her, I reported that all seemed to be perfectly fine. They told me it was the first time they had heard of a cat fixing itself. The question is whether she is an absolute genius, or a complete idiot.

HA!

Sat, 09 Mar 2013 04:40:01 GMT

Guess Who's Coming to dinner is on TV, and I am listening to it while I sew frantically. Spencer Tracy's character has just asked Sidney Poitier's how he thinks the mixed race children he will have with his (Tracy's) daughter will fare in the future.

'She thinks they'll all be President of the United States,' says Poitier.

'And you?'

'I'd be happy with them just being Secretary of State.'

I just realised that film was made the year I was born. Reality was better!

I wrote a thing!

Wed, 06 Mar 2013 12:48:32 GMT

Except it's an essay on writing, not, you know, a story. But there are a few good tips in there, especially on getting through a block.

Absolutely nothing useful on dealing with procrastination. I have many faults, but hypocrisy is not one of them!

You can read it here at the lovely hd_writers comm.

I have many other things I want to write about and comments to comment, but I will be run off my feet until after Easter and apologise in advance. But I did have brunch with sinden and pollymel and they were brilliant! Though they encouraged me to have two hot chocolates, never again! I will try to make some time, though, Australian politics has gone wholly pear-shaped, again and needs satirising.

Having said that, it remains more actually functional than either the US or the UK. It's sort of like clowns performing rocket science …

Cats, cats, so many sodding cats!

Fri, 01 Mar 2013 08:41:42 GMT

Oh good God in heaven and all his tiny monkeys … no sooner had I typed that subject than I looked up at the LJ posting header, which is ENTIRELY BLOODY CATS!

I did NOT run over a cat on the ride home this afternoon. Not for lack of trying on its part as it belted out in front of me on a downhill stretch riding towards a busy roundabout where I am usually concentrating on the upcoming traffic. Happily, my peripheral vision was inherited from generations of flyers and riders and I spotted the little bugger early enough to brake and shout 'Kitty!' so the bloke on the speedy road bike coming up on my right could hit his brakes, too. We shared a nod of Shared Successful Pet Evasion Skill Admiration.

Inside the house, there is no new cat wee anywhere there oughtn't be, hurrah! Moushka The Visiting Cat has been in disgrace for a few days after weeing under the bed more than once (it is possible she was cornered in there by Cookie or Monster). A Serious amount of cleaning and spraying of anti-cat spray and dusting with bicarbonate of soda has done the trick, though I am still getting the smell out of the jeans that were under the bed. That will teach Mr Brammers to store his clothes on the floor. Alas, there is no sun to speak of at the moment, so no hope of solarising all that ammonia.

She has ALSO weed on the bathroom mat. She did this first when she was new and confused, and I think possibly being chased away from the litter tray by our two cats. She most recently did this the other day when I was standing next to her shouting 'NO! That is SO INAPPROPRIATE! I'll send you to your aunt's house!' We surmised it was a protest at having to use the same litter as our cats. She has won on this one and now she has her favourite litter back.

Again, we are losing to cats. This is very depressing.

Our two cats remain well and continue to hate Moushka. There is much hissing. Moush doesn't really care, she demands pats and cuddles and has her own feeding spot and the sofa and seems perfectly happy with her lot now we have bowed to her will in the matter of litter. Her need for pats and cuddles has seen our two remember that they also like pats and cuddles, and the demands have significantly increased. Sadly, this has led to situations where Moush has been happily tucked behind me on the sofa and Cookie has leapt into my lap for happy purring pattings, with sudden descent into spitting hatred when she spotted the spare cat behind me.

I feel like one of those American families on the news who have two perfect children and then adopt a troubled third and find themselves bleating at the TV cameras, 'I just don't know how we're going to get through this, but I'm just going to keep trying to love everyone equally!'

And possibly buy a water pistol …