I’ve been watching too much TV lately: the lazy consequence of my tardy conversion from five channel analogue philistinism to willpower-sapping digital Freeview, which, despite the relative proportion of dross remaining pretty constant, does bring an increase of available actual good stuff (well, sometimes, among all those un-available extra channels that aren’t actually free ). This also provides for exercise of the coloured option buttons, so I can dance around the various re-runs of The Olympics coverage, not just for the sports I want to watch, but so as best to avoid those presenters and interviewers who irritate, but which does involve prolonged periods of keeping the remote control to hand, turning me into the couch-type I was always determined not to become. And I stay up until 3-30 am to watch the irrepressible and foolhardy Paula Radcliffe not win (which I salute her for, because isn’t it boring when you know who will win? I mean what’s the point of that? I prefer my heroes with flaws). And the likelihood is there will be a good film on late, and I’ll find it hard to resist staying up. Consequently, the body clock gets knocked out of kilter, and things don’t get done, such as emptying the bin, wherein something is going on that would have had Thomas Hunt Morgan running round with a net.
I also indulge my innate slothfulness with the More4 double-bill repeats of Father Ted, which, like all the best comedy, never stales. But it was me preaching to a friend the other day my opinion of soap operas; how they are axiomatic of society’s intellectual stuntedness. (Where’s the remote? On my soapbox.) But then, I enjoy the Fiver double/triple bill repeats of Sex and the City, which is, I guess, a soap opera of sorts, featuring a group of thirty-something, liberal, lunching, retifistic lady characters, three of whom I actually dislike, and, as such, I wouldn’t really enjoy this party, were it not gingered up. (I haven’t, however, seen the film; I’ll wait for it to be premiered on Film4_.) I read somewhere recently that Carrie Bradshaw can be considered as iconic a literary figure as Elizabeth Bennett, a statement that is nonsense on several levels, but which immediately conjures up my mind’s image of one of my favourite literary characters as personified wonderfully by the pulchritudinous Jennifer Ehlepage.shtml (… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . …oh, sorry, where was I?), who has recently been re-seen in the More4 repeat of The Camomile Lawn (… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . …).
But back to now, and Dawkins on Darwin on Channel 4 last night, something which people ought to be more aware of, instead of soap operas, celebrity culture and the like. So I really should practice what I preach and be planning experiments and nailing that draft, instead of blogging on about Sex and the City, for pity’s sake! Hmmm, hold on a minute there… what about ‘Sex and the Lab’_? Green fluorescence on the (carnal) knowledge acquisition endeavours of four scientific characters: say, student, two postdocs, lecturer; with occasional guest appearances of those who are only there occasionally, such as professors and parturient Lab Managers. Imagine the possibilities. All seven deadly sins applied. Sex and science can be a wonderful combination, and why should we let the marketeers exploit it all? Well, it couldn’t be any worse than this half-plucked turkeyrats/, could it? I reckon it wouldn’t do any harm, unless….
Lee Turnpenny 
Somehow, I am convinced that all lab-themed shows are doomed to be just like CSI – with labs shown as mostly dark, illuminated only with blue light (why is it always blue? and why don’t they just switch the lights on?) and the lab employees walking about in impeccably clean lab coats and/or three inch heels. Labs have no fewer conflicts and intrigues than the world of Sex and the City and would make excellent soap opera material. Will the paper be accepted?? Will the grant be funded?? Will Dr. Dee realize he doesn’t deserve first authorship before he is forcibly removed from the publication?? (answer to the last one is usually a NO).
You get Elizabeth Bennett. I get the lake. And Mark Darcy.
I meant Mr. Darcy.
I must be the only person in the world who thought the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice utterly loathesome. Every time I saw Jennifer Ehle’s smug fat face I wanted to punch it out. And the whole business with Darcy and the lake. How authentically Jane Austen was that? Answer – not at all. It just pandered to the same kind of sub-pornographic mentality that gives us Diet Coke adverts.
Yes, you are the only person in the world.
I once had an irate Canadian friend call me after I explained what all the Mr Darcy / lake references meant in Bridget Jones’ Diary (the book version). She said “I read that stupid Pride and Prejudice book from start to finish and it didn’t even mention the lake!”.
Yes, you are the only person in the world.
As I suspected. Everyone else is a figment of my imagination.
Even he-who-must-not-be-named?
I’d like a word with you and your imagination, Henry. A few complaints to make.
Lab employees walking about in lab coats at all is a fiction, isn’t it? Except when the H&S inspection people decide on a visit. Their last project here involved measuring the pipes hanging off the sink taps to ensure they don’t exceed a certain length (???).
I guess Jane Austen was governed by the conventions of her time and society, but who knows what she would have liked to have written, given that Pride and Prejudice is all about ‘sex’. Elizabeth Bennett is, to me, as fine a moral exemplar as appears in any book; and that she was played by Jennifer Ehle was, for me, a bonus, because I find her gorgeous. She could have first authorship over me any time.