As I've said more than once before, and will repeat endlessly until someone tells me how clever I am, Mad Men has chronicled the decade in which ideas first became commodities. Its ending demonstrates how the sixties were an age in which everyone had ideas all the time – Let's open a gallery in this old shed! Let's move to San Francisco and paint wooden eggs! – and how people gradually filtered out all this noise and made sense of it all.
"Muuuuuu-uuummmmm, noooo!" That was the background noise to my formative years. To this day my mum still insists on grabbing my hand when crossing the road and takes great delight in telling all and sundry about whatever embarrassing ailment I may have. But not even she would have the stones to use TV to "teach me a lesson." But then my mum's not Aurora from Texas.
Betty Francis took a lot of shit down the years, from her husbands, from her daughter and from Mad Men viewers insistent on judging her by contemporary standards of parenting and womanhood. Maybe she's due a reappraisal.
Sometimes Mad Men makes me doubt my own intellect, something that usually happens only when I wake up and survey the remnants of a wholly unnecessary Dallas Chicken meal bought drunkenly the night before. But there lives an intellectual joust within the self on watching high-quality, subtext-laden TV. Am I getting it "right"? If I type my interpretations into Google, will I find others think the same, thereby validating me? Or if I announce them in public will I be scorned by my peers for missing the allegory? Well, this time I'm going for broke. "Lost Horizon" is all about God.
There are a few things in this world that I'm scared of. Horses. Moths. John Barrowman. And now, this week's catfish. Spoiler: this week's episode is like staring into the abyss and seeing all four staring back at you – but they all have your face
Proof, if proof be needed, that if you wish hard enough for something it comes true, Lord Sugar has announced that Claude "The Gentleman Thug" Littner will replace Nick Hewer on the next season of The Apprentice. So in honour of the man who gives middle-managers from the East Midlands nightmares (and of me calling it all the way back in December
), here are 50 facts that are definitely true about Claude.
Tonight, on a very special Catfish: enough about protein shake ads on the tube: the real body-shamers are Nev and Max, who bust out the first "Secret Fatty" theory of the season.
Having confidently predicted last week
that we were heading for a non-committal ending, inevitably I've mugged myself. Here, three episodes out, is the planet-killer. Don tells us this is the beginning of something, not the end, but the last time he told the truth was in about 1967 and it was only to tell Roger he couldn't pull off a kaftan.
The events in this week's episode are the reason why I have trust issues. It's no wonder Max took off for five weeks.
Eastenders today announced the arrival of new family the Lees, and confirmed that whatever big storylines are in store for them are largely irrelevant as they'll be conducted behind closed doors like most people's are.