I have watched many many things. This is justifiable through the need to sit quite still in a chair with some poo on my hair for several hours yesterday, neatly encased in a most attractive cling-film head-condom. (OK, so I only had to do that for about 3 hours, but still, a wide range of viewing materials pre-henna, mid-henna, and post-henna when one is wondering how it will turn out is perfectly legitimate. For those interested, I succeeded in only dyeing my hair and not various other portions of my anatomy, nor indeed my bathroom, and am now more pleasingly red than before - which counts as a triumph, I feel.)

So, the viewage:


Death of a Ghost is very yay. Lots of wintry London (overcoats!), Lugg being gloriously stroppy about not getting to have any fun, a character called Tom Daker which sounds rather too much like Tom Baker and causes inadvertent amusement, and drunken Albert. 'My biscuit is soggy', he says, and kisses the sphinxes at Cleopatra's Needle. Hurrah.


The Aztecs is successfully converting me to that nice old First Doctor. (I have only seen The Keys of Marinus before, and he's on holiday for most of it.) Him and Cameca are lovely, as is the scene where Ian tells him he's a randy old bastard. (I may have made up my own dialogue for that bit.) Barbara actually is a Goddess, as we all know, so that's all jolly good, and she pwns due to having Actual Knowledge of Aztec civilization, which makes her a Very Excellent Companion and much cleverer than the Doctor really. Speaking of which...


Destiny of the Daleks close on the heels of City of Death has confirmed it: I am now officially Gay for Romana II. I appreciate I am a bit late to this party, but I got distracted by that episode of The Professionals where she shagged Doyle and then turned out to be evil (obviously). And how did I not know that the pink outfit is a replica of his? I am a fool. She is the Doctor we are allowed to be, I think: Tom exudes so much Tomness that we are always observing him, never really in his head, but we can be a Time Lady who is clever and funny and has wonderful boots but also gets pinned to a wall by scary Daleks and has a bit of a cry. Oh, and the bit when she is in the tube? EEP. I was proper scared. Anyway, I have not seen anything else with her in yet, meaning I have lots of happy hours of loveliness and outfits still to come.

(Cross-dressing companions are good, aren't they? I would've liked Rose more if she'd done drag. Maybe Martha will oblige.)


OK, this definitely had nothing to do with hair as I actually had to go out of the house to an actual cinema. The Notorious Bettie Page is a wee flim which is, er, ok. Gretchen Mol has a fantastic pair of norks, it must be said (although not quite the Bettie bum'n'hips combo), but the screenplay's a bit flat. And they sort of footle around the pornography issue, pointedly showing you the hilarious 'naughty' movies where girls covered practically head-to-toe in unattractive underwear playfully pretend to slap each other on the arse (tee hee, fancy! people thought this sort of thing was for deviants!), but then casually throwing in a few shots of girls tied up in full-on scary rape scenarios (uh-oh, some of these shots still look massively dodgy even by modern standards, especially in the context of a film about a woman who was serially abused...er...look! here are some nice outfits!).

To be fair, that is largely the same footling I myself do on the subject of porn. And the outfits were very pretty. 50s Americana so wins over the Sea of Brownness and Rationing of Blighty.

Now exhausted. Shall collapse in front of telly to recover...