almost witty

In case you’ve missed the videos that are virally spreading across the internet, Matt Damon has apparently been the butt of ABC chatshow host Jimmy Kimmel’s closing jokes. So for the five year anniversary, Kimmel’s girlfriend Sarah Silverman did a music video where she proudly proclaimed she was fucking Matt Damon. And in retaliation, Kimmel proudly proclaimed (with the help of a surprisingly star-studded celebrity choir) that he was fucking Ben Affleck.

Putting the videos online was, obviously, a natural move for the broadcasters. But for all the hip savvy new-medianess that it professes to show, there’s one huge flaw in putting them online.

All the videos are bleeped to buggery, which rather ruins the flow of the song to say the least. But you’d think that on the Internet versions of the songs, you could put the uncensored versions up. Especially considering the YouTube username for one of the videos is imfuckingbenaffleck, which - as far as I can tell - was placed there by ABC staff. But nope, even though you can see the word fucking surrounding the video, and it’s pretty damn obvious what they’re singing (and gesturing) woe betide anyone actually hears the words.

It also shows that for all the good egg that Matt Damon is, he is absolutely hopeless at doing comedy. He gurns hopelessly throughout the video. But for some bizarre reason, Ben Affleck manages to pull it off while wearing a tight lycra top.

Oh yeah, and Americans love hearing celebrities swear. I’m not sure a version with Tess Daly singing I’m Fucking Ant McPharlin would get so many laughs…

Anyway, all together now:

Last night, I settled down to watch the new re-launched BBC Three, complete with new logo, new idents and no blobs. And lest we forget, Lily Allen going chat.

The in-vision continuity announcers certainly made an impact, making you realise you weren’t watching any of the other channels. It certainly sparked feelings of retro nostalgia - but then I’m at the tail-end of BBC Three’s target demographic. Viewers under twenty will probably have no memories of the decades where you saw the person introducing the next programme.

Unfortunately, it soon became very apparent why they were phased out in the first place. Someone you’ve never seen delivering a piece-to-camera about the programme you’re about to watch tends to be very boring visually. Plus I was never sure whether I was seeing genuine viewers talking about the programmes, or paid actors.

But never mind the junctions, what about the programmes?

Tuesday night’s BBC Three started with a whole hour of The Real Hustle in Las Vegas. Which played a lot like The Real Hustle, but with American bystanders instead of British ones. This was followed by Find Me A Face, where two model scouts stalked pretty people in Southern England in the hope of finding a woman with a C-cup bra to front a lingerie advert. So far, so standard Southern England BBC.

Then came Phoo Action, a one-off drama you certainly wouldn’t expect to see on any other BBC channel. A comic strip from the creator of Tank Girl brought to live-action, it had tons of primary colours, caricatures from across the globe and a green man with a basketball for a head trying to become King of England. It’d certainly be interesting to see what happens next to these characters if it goes to series.

Following the compulsory 10pm repeat of EastEnders came the much-hyped Lily Allen And Friends. The only social-networking angle that hadn’t been seen since Graham Norton’s Channel 4 chatshow was to invite the actual stars of the Internet onto the show itself. Unfortunately, the two chosen were Chris Crocker - the man chiefly remembered for sobbing to the camera ‘LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!!!’ - and talented singer Tay Zonday, who was depressingly professional in person.

But then, I’m just on the cusp of falling out of BBC Three’s demographic. What did you think of it?

If you held John Barrowman’s first single in your hands, and saw it was a cover of the screeching karaoke classic All Out Of Love, you’d expect it to be a diva-ish affair with soaring vocals, and huge production values.

Prepare to be disappointed. He does have an orchestra behind him, but judging from this video, it has none of the passion and drama that you’d expect from Mr. Barrowman. He must have been taking his Hyperactivity tablets… I won’t even comment on the irony of having the out-and-proud Barrowman’s exclusive video debut next to a picture of a “Gay Dalek”…

Oh, and David Tennant as a bespectacled geek.

As you may know, I’m a bit of a fan of Spaced, a British sitcom that could only have been made in the cusp of the Millennium with its two key protagonists utterly consumed by geek culture and pop culture references, so much so that the two main characters never even kissed one another.

Skip to today, and Variety announce vague plans by Fox to make a US version of it. Brought to you by McG - the man who directed Charlie’s Angels and didn’t make Superman Returns because he was too scared to fly on a plane to Australia - and some guy called Adam Barr. So far, the original creators of Spaced haven’t been consulted. But even if they were involved, I can’t see how a US version of it would work.

Half the fun was watching British people essentially re-enacting a wide variety of Hollywood pop culture moments. Having Americans re-enacting Hollywood moments with a twist wouldn’t be funny - it’d just be Scary Movie 15. With extra mugging.

So on Sunday night I settled down on the sofa, like most of the British population, for the new series of the fantastic Top Gear - the programme for people who like silly blokes.

But oh dear oh dear oh dear. What on earth is Richard Hammond wearing? I know he’s the girliest presenter on the testosterone-laden programme by a long shot, but even so someone should have had a word in his ear about that jacket. Whatever was written on it, it looked too well-designed, as if it was a jacket from Top Shop that a girlfriend had bought for her reluctant fella. Which, come to think of it, is probably what happened. (bear in mind I’m not usually moved to write in an angry fashion about what television presenters are wearing!)

But it gets worse. During the film the presenters made driving around Europe in super sportcars looking for the ideal road, Richard is always seen wearing a namby-pamby necklace. Not a silver or gold one, but a chunky black one. Just like the kind of necklace I was reluctantly persuaded into wearing during one summer weekend in Italy. And it looked as wrong and girly on him as it did on me.

He’s a television presenter. He’s run PR agencies. He ought to know what is relatively acceptable and unacceptable to a Top Gear audience. What gives?

And another thing, the Top Gear team seem to have decided that what makes a great road primarily consists of steep bends and turns up and down sheer mountain peaks. Have they ever tried driving into mid-Wales late at night? It’s not exhilerating then, let me tell you - mind-numbingly dull, tedious and dangerous comes to mind. Give me six shimmering lanes of concrete any day of the week!