I awoke a little grumpily this morning.
In part this was due to sleep deprivation – the weather here in the north west of England has been uncommonly hot the last couple of days. Now, I am (unusually) not complaining but the evenings have been very warm and muggy. Despite dispensing with duvets and despite opening windows, the last two nights’ sleep have been brief and fretful. Mind you, the rather dramatic thunder and lightning at 03.40 this morning didn’t help.
That said, the return of Bill Turnbull to the BBC Breakfast News Sofa alongside foxy Sian Williams helped my mood not at all. Why can’t he just retire gracefully? In a kind of smarmy, fey, quite camp and irritating kind of grace that is.
English: British journalist Sian Williams whist presenting presenting BBC Breakfast in London during the 2010 United Kingdom general election. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Bill’s return coincided with the Parliamentary Recess to deliver yet another morning session bereft of meaningful news stories. Again, it is official, absolutely nothing of any importance is going on, absolutely anywhere on this planet of ours, or the surrounding universes (unless you believe all the recent white noise about aliens living amongst us and UFOs and conspiracy theories and the like).
Instead, the whole morning was filled with tales of gingerbread men in the shape of Cristiano Ronaldo, and a seemingly blatant advertisement for a male cosmetic firm trying to convince us that we hot-blooded men should be wearing eyeliner and mascara (or Guyliner and Manscara as it is wittingly branded). Of course, the “I’m not at all camp” Bill was all too reluctantly willing to try this out!
There was also the non-story about Carol Kirkwood, the must-have morning crumpet of choice for middle-aged men (whose attention turns to Carol Vorderman in the afternoon and the female presenters of The One Show in the evening – Christine Bleakely, Myleene Klaas, Ellie Harrison, Lucy Siegle and Angellica Bell), not camping in Burnham-on-Sea. Despite looking pretty windswept, the supposed “joke” was that Carol actually stayed in a luxury chalet rather than under canvas.
Nevertheless, Carol found time to feed those sexual fantasies with tales of her time in the girl guides. I suspect that she still has a uniform. A very tight-fitting uniform. Also, it provided an opportunity for Carol to flirt with her “Billy” as she calls him and for banter implying that Carol and Chris Mullin, the sports presenter with whom Carol spent Ascot week and Wimbledon with, knew rather too much about each other – Chris implied that Carol snored and Carol implied that Chris had sweaty feet!
And, the visit to Burnham-on-Sea, conjured up images of past relationships/holidays which I would rather forget. Burnham is probably the closest seaside resort to the city of Birmingham. It is, therefore, also full of Brummies. And, when I was just 17 years old, this is where I went on holiday with my first serious girlfriend, Melissa, and her family. When I say “serious” she was the first girl that let me get further than base one – and, in case my mom is reading I am not admitting which base I got to, but……..
I slept in the awning with the family dog, while Melissa slept in the caravan with her mom, dad and younger sister. Thankfully her two scary brothers – one a night club bouncer and the other a convicted GBHer – didn’t join us.
It was not the most enjoyable holiday experience that I had. In fact it was right up there with the twin centre holiday to Sorrento and Rome when I got ditched by my fiancée, who subsequently admitted to having an affair with a married man with three children.
This is what Bill Turnbill does to me, the swine. All this emotional turmoil just comes flooding back. And, Burnham is a dump.
Please BBC. Kill Bill.
July 29, 2008 at 1:13 pm
Whatever Happened To The News?
Who on Earth thinks that is a good idea to have “Dancing” Bill Turnbull front the BBC Breakfast News? He is hardly a classic news anchor, though he does rhyme with one. He is so smug, so smarmy, so uninspiring, so un-serious, so un-witty, so un-fashionable, and, so, so boring.
His favourite hobbies are bee keeping and ballroom dancing for chrissake! He lowers the tone with his un-naturally plucked eyebrows that hint at a grooming regime that is far more stringent than that of his glamorous colleagues (especially Louise Minchin who often looks as if she has just made it in after a very harrowing trip into the office or an evening doing the kind of things that men fantasize about).
He lowers the tone with his boring suits and offensive ties. He lowers the tone when attempting, unsuccessfully to conjure witty links between the news stories (I use that term loosely), the weather, the sports report, and those humorous (not) articles they put on about such things as Dancing Dogs at Crufts and the like, or the all-too-frequent and blatant advertisements for the BBC’s own programming – Celebrity Strictly Come Dancing, the Apprentice and so on.
Increasingly, they seem to forget to report the news or do so only fleetingly. We are fighting two wars, there is genocide in Darfur, and we are inundated by stories of children pretending to be news reporters, how to make a pancake, obese cats, and Chris Mullin (the sports presenter who is frequently linked with rumours of off-camera nookie with Carol Kirkwood, the weather presenter) in a rather unattractive all-in-one body suit used by Olympic swimmers.
The whole programme would be an absolute nightmare and waste of time if it hadn’t been for the constant distraction of his side-kicks. Like Dr Who, Turnbull comes with his own companion, who is usually an intelligent, easy-on-the-eye, foxy if not sexy female presenter. The list is extensive, but, I will include it here for no other reason than it will dramatically increase the hits I get, especially from those very sad souls that somehow always find my posts on Cheshire Swingers, or Sleeping With Julia Roberts (see my post on Strange Visitors by way of explanation) with their very obscure search terms. Sophie Raworth, Natasha Kaplinski (far too much make-up), sporty Kate Silverton, Mishal Husain, and, of course, the dynamic duo which get most men of a certain age going in the morning; the epitome of pint-sized foxiness Susanna Reid (often misspelt in search engines) and Sian Williams. And, not forgetting the glamorous weather girls with which our Bill flirts so furiously: Carol Kirkwood, Helen Willetts, and Louise Lear. Boy, this is going to be my best day ever! ”Carol Kirkwood cleavage” and “Sophie Raworth Legs” are some of the most popular searches in the blogosphere – hands up if you found this site through those searches. Dirty boy!
Bill’s colleagues are all smart and professional. They fill in the serious bits when Bill isn’t reminding us that he too appeared in Celebrity Strictly Come Dancing. Presumably he was attracted by the make-up and the flouncy dresses. Please BBC, Kill Bill! Kick him into touch. Put him out to grass. If it were not for Sian and Susanna it would be nigh on impossible to drag myself out of the bed in the morning. Sometimes it is a relief when I am in a hurry and have to dash to my car and the serious news reporting of the Today programme on Radio 4 – John Humphrys is a god! At least they seem to take the news seriously and in-depth. What a contrast.
Post script. I have long since given up on Bill Turnbill and the BBC News in the morning and have gone over to the joys of Sky News with its witty banter from Eamonn Holmes, the easy on the eye Charlotte Hawkins reading the news, and the oh so sexy Lucy Verasamy who puts all other weather girls in the shade.
March 12, 2008 at 6:56 pm