Listening to the “Sir Roger Moore” podcast this morning courtesy of BBC Audiobooks and their sporadic "Behind the Mic" series (and quite frankly, there should be a Sir Roger Moore podcast every day), and it’s as much fun as I’d hoped it would be. He’s touting “My Word Is My Bond” (of course) – and the fundamental niceness of the man shows through in the little bit of chat he gives in between readings.
Did you know that Richard Kiel was blind in one eye? I didn’t. Roj on Richard’s terror of heights, on being asked to do a stunt on The Spy Who Loved Me involving running along some scaffolding fairly high off the ground – ““But Lewis...!!!”, wailed Richard, “I don’t even like being this tall...”” I wonder if Richard’s seen the first twenty minutes of Casino Royale yet?
This man was (and is) one of the biggest stars in the world, and yet he gets star-struck himself standing at a UNICEF event on the same stage as Audrey Hepburn. His little asides are wonderful, too -
“I thought I might write a book about my illnesses. About my hypochondria. About the time I got shot in the leg. About the time I was rushed to hospital with appendicitis, but it turned out to be acute constipation...”
And later...
“One of the great things about audiobooks is that you can fall asleep listening to them. Most people who read in bed are – usually – reading under not ideal conditions, with bad lighting and such. Listening instead of reading is much more healthy. Of course, with my book, I can guarantee you’ll be asleep by the end of the first page.”
And best of all –
“Thank you for listening. I’m Roger Moore. I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. However, If you want a good read, buy Sean Connery’s book...”
Love that man. Love him to pieces.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
1996. No new Series on the Horizon. What's a boy to do?
It's been a while, but given that there's a little breathing space with a slightly reduced amount of New Who on the horizon, I'm catching up on all the Whofiction that I missed over the years.
Re-reading the Eighth Doctor Adventures when the spirit takes me – which isn’t often, but occasionally the need for more McGann strikes and there’s a fair few I never ploughed through.
On Vampire Science at the moment – it’s weird looking back on these from the position of Who’s current scorched earth policy.... my primary sensation is aggravation at all the right-on stuff keeps getting in the way of the plot – even the descriptive passages are written in such a way that screams “look! We’re young, hip gunslingers, and *this* is how Who should be!!!”
I’m about halfway through, and it's a great book, apart from me sighing every single time Sam opens her mouth (and cheering when she gets her throat ripped open, which is surely not the reaction KateandJon were looking for).
This bit in particular caught my eye, amongst many other exceedingly good bits... I hope nobody minds my posting it. If you enjoyed it, do seek the original novel out. Well worth your time.
'What's to find out about them?' asked Shackle.
'Practically everything,' said the Doctor. An exploring kitten tumbled down the sofa into his lap. He stroked it, absently. 'At the moment all we know about them is that they drink blood. For all we know, we could be dealing with ancient horrors from my people's mythology, human psychopaths, or the giant mosquitoes of Atraxi 3.'
Shackle snickered. The Doctor looked him straight in the eye and held his hands nearly a foot apart. Shackle stopped snickering.
'We need to know their numbers, their goals, and their abilities,' said Kramer.
The Doctor nodded. 'Different strains of vampires, different abilities,' he said. 'The curse manifests itself in many and various ways. All of the attacks so far have taken place at night, so we can assume they have an aversion to sunlight.' Another kitten had arrived, walking across his shoulders. 'The vampires offline Lord legend had incredibly strong circulatory systems, allowing them to heal almost any wound - hence the traditional stake through the heart.'
'I thought the idea was to pin them to the earth,' said Carolyn.
'They can't heal a wound that has an inch-wide piece of wood through it,' said the Doctor. 'You've been reading.'
'As much as I could,' said Carolyn. 'Ever since 1976.'
'Be prepared to forget much of what you've read,' said the Doctor. 'Don't rely on it.' Carolyn nodded.
Kramer was drawing a plan of the nightclub, and the surrounding alleyways, on a sheet of typing paper. 'We're going to the Other Place on a stake-out.' She ignored Shackle's theatrical groan. 'There are two main entrances and exits. Outside' - she drew circles on the map - 'myself in the rear parking lot, Dr McConnell and Dr Shackle in the front parking lot. Inside the club, the Doctor.'
'And Sam,' said Sam.
'Sorry?' said Kramer.
'Inside the club, the Doctor and Sam.' Kramer glanced at the Doctor, who looked vaguely bewildered. By now he had one kitten balancing on his head, two tussling in his lap, and one attempting to clamber up his waistcoat. He looked at Sam. She lifted her hands like paws, and panted.
'Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam.' He shook his head, carefully, and the kitten on top clung on for dear life. 'When are you going to learn not to pointlessly throw yourself in harm's way?'
'When you do. Look, I'm here to learn how to save the world, right? Well how'm I gonna learn how to do it if you don't give me the chance?'
'Oh God,' muttered Kramer. Sam saw how closely the general was watching him. 'Another one.'
'All right. On your head be it,' said the Doctor, removing the kitten. 'But remember, you did ask for it.' Sam grinned, and so did the Doctor, but Kramer's grim expression hadn't changed.
'So what precisely do we do?' Shackle wanted to know. 'Are you going to arm us with machine guns? Or squirt guns filled with holy water?'
'We watch,' said Kramer drily. 'We make a nuisance of ourselves by asking a lot of questions. If anyone suspicious notices and leaves, we follow them.'
'In the meantime, Dr Shackle,' said the Doctor, 'I want to take a look at your records of these killings.'
Shackle said, 'So we're going to defeat these supernatural monsters -'
'Not supernatural,' said the Doctor.
'- these night-stalking, blood-sucking creatures for whom there is no doubt a perfectly logical explanation, through a combination of medical research and patient observation?' He looked at Kramer. 'Couldn't you rustle up a few tanks, or something?'
'Rash action would be foolish,' said the Doctor sternly. If not fatal.' He finally managed to get up and head for the door. 'For now, patience is our weapon. You'll see, Dr Shackle. Tonight.' He stopped for a moment, puzzled, then lifted the last of the curious kittens out of his coat pocket by the scruff of its neck. He presented it to Kramer, who looked at it in utter confusion, and made his exit.
I don’t know about you, but I can totally see Paul McGann festooned with kittens...
Re-reading the Eighth Doctor Adventures when the spirit takes me – which isn’t often, but occasionally the need for more McGann strikes and there’s a fair few I never ploughed through.
On Vampire Science at the moment – it’s weird looking back on these from the position of Who’s current scorched earth policy.... my primary sensation is aggravation at all the right-on stuff keeps getting in the way of the plot – even the descriptive passages are written in such a way that screams “look! We’re young, hip gunslingers, and *this* is how Who should be!!!”
I’m about halfway through, and it's a great book, apart from me sighing every single time Sam opens her mouth (and cheering when she gets her throat ripped open, which is surely not the reaction KateandJon were looking for).
This bit in particular caught my eye, amongst many other exceedingly good bits... I hope nobody minds my posting it. If you enjoyed it, do seek the original novel out. Well worth your time.
'What's to find out about them?' asked Shackle.
'Practically everything,' said the Doctor. An exploring kitten tumbled down the sofa into his lap. He stroked it, absently. 'At the moment all we know about them is that they drink blood. For all we know, we could be dealing with ancient horrors from my people's mythology, human psychopaths, or the giant mosquitoes of Atraxi 3.'
Shackle snickered. The Doctor looked him straight in the eye and held his hands nearly a foot apart. Shackle stopped snickering.
'We need to know their numbers, their goals, and their abilities,' said Kramer.
The Doctor nodded. 'Different strains of vampires, different abilities,' he said. 'The curse manifests itself in many and various ways. All of the attacks so far have taken place at night, so we can assume they have an aversion to sunlight.' Another kitten had arrived, walking across his shoulders. 'The vampires offline Lord legend had incredibly strong circulatory systems, allowing them to heal almost any wound - hence the traditional stake through the heart.'
'I thought the idea was to pin them to the earth,' said Carolyn.
'They can't heal a wound that has an inch-wide piece of wood through it,' said the Doctor. 'You've been reading.'
'As much as I could,' said Carolyn. 'Ever since 1976.'
'Be prepared to forget much of what you've read,' said the Doctor. 'Don't rely on it.' Carolyn nodded.
Kramer was drawing a plan of the nightclub, and the surrounding alleyways, on a sheet of typing paper. 'We're going to the Other Place on a stake-out.' She ignored Shackle's theatrical groan. 'There are two main entrances and exits. Outside' - she drew circles on the map - 'myself in the rear parking lot, Dr McConnell and Dr Shackle in the front parking lot. Inside the club, the Doctor.'
'And Sam,' said Sam.
'Sorry?' said Kramer.
'Inside the club, the Doctor and Sam.' Kramer glanced at the Doctor, who looked vaguely bewildered. By now he had one kitten balancing on his head, two tussling in his lap, and one attempting to clamber up his waistcoat. He looked at Sam. She lifted her hands like paws, and panted.
'Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam.' He shook his head, carefully, and the kitten on top clung on for dear life. 'When are you going to learn not to pointlessly throw yourself in harm's way?'
'When you do. Look, I'm here to learn how to save the world, right? Well how'm I gonna learn how to do it if you don't give me the chance?'
'Oh God,' muttered Kramer. Sam saw how closely the general was watching him. 'Another one.'
'All right. On your head be it,' said the Doctor, removing the kitten. 'But remember, you did ask for it.' Sam grinned, and so did the Doctor, but Kramer's grim expression hadn't changed.
'So what precisely do we do?' Shackle wanted to know. 'Are you going to arm us with machine guns? Or squirt guns filled with holy water?'
'We watch,' said Kramer drily. 'We make a nuisance of ourselves by asking a lot of questions. If anyone suspicious notices and leaves, we follow them.'
'In the meantime, Dr Shackle,' said the Doctor, 'I want to take a look at your records of these killings.'
Shackle said, 'So we're going to defeat these supernatural monsters -'
'Not supernatural,' said the Doctor.
'- these night-stalking, blood-sucking creatures for whom there is no doubt a perfectly logical explanation, through a combination of medical research and patient observation?' He looked at Kramer. 'Couldn't you rustle up a few tanks, or something?'
'Rash action would be foolish,' said the Doctor sternly. If not fatal.' He finally managed to get up and head for the door. 'For now, patience is our weapon. You'll see, Dr Shackle. Tonight.' He stopped for a moment, puzzled, then lifted the last of the curious kittens out of his coat pocket by the scruff of its neck. He presented it to Kramer, who looked at it in utter confusion, and made his exit.
I don’t know about you, but I can totally see Paul McGann festooned with kittens...
Silliness can crop up in the most unexpected places
I’ve started listening to BBC’s “Behind the Mic” podcasts – “an exciting look behind the scenes at BBC radio”, is what the strapline on iTunes claims. What it actually is, so far as I can tell, is “an exciting look at the audiobooks that you can now buy – for extortionate prices – at your local bookshop (and sometimes much more cheaply on Amazon Marketplace)."
They’re not bad, if a little heavy on the “everything’s brilliant” side – the first one focussed on David Tennant’s reading of “Pest Control”. Hey! It’s an original story for audio, and fantastically written, fantastically read and fantastically produced. Go and buy it! It’ll be fantastic. I did. And it was quite good, actually.
However, the one I’m listening to now is throwing up some pleasant surprises. It’s a piece on “Men’s fiction on audio” – what sort of audio books do MEN like to listen to, when they’re doing MANLY THINGS, like drinking, pulling birds and throwing up in fireplaces? The answer to that is, they don’t – they’re too busy doing MANLY THINGS, like drinking, pulling birds and throwing up in fireplaces.
Anyway: it’s a two-handed interview with Clive Mantle and Christian Rodska, barely moderated by the purring voice of Kate Thomas who claims to be producer of these things. By the sound of it, she just revs up the readers and lets them go (I'm sure that's not the case, it's just that the boys are enjoying this little chat so much she doesn't have a great deal to do...). Neither of them are taking the interview remotely seriously, which makes for an entertaining listen. “So, Clive – what sort of stuff do you like to read and listen to when you’re not working?” “Things about mountains, mainly. People climbing up mountains. People falling off mountains. People going back down mountains. People dying on mountains, that sort of thing...”
Everytime Kate attempts to introduce a clip from one of the stories under discussion (Andy McNab, usually), our duo greet it with cries of “No! My god! Are you telling me that... we’ve got a clip? Here? Now? Amaaaazing!” and so on.
Christian starts it going downhill – “I find that when I’m narrating these, I have to feel as male as possible. So no high heels. Flatties, possibly, but definitely not high heels. Perhaps just a touch of lippy, but that’s it.” Clive immediately interjects – “perhaps a nice pair of cami-knickers under the combats, though. Just for comfort.” And that’s it. The interview’s out of control from there on.
Following a clip of Christian reading an Ian Rankin story which seems to feature a man lying on a mountain hiding from some other men – Clive would probably enjoy that one – Clive’s only comment is “now, I don’t know about you, but I’m sure I heard the merest whisper of cami-knicker behind that reading...”
Poor old Kate. How she managed to keep a straight face, I don’t know. Although to judge by the number of hard edits in the thing, I suspect she didn’t.
Anyway, all hugely entertaining, even if it doesn’t make me want to rush out and grab a copy of Clive Mantle reading an unabridged version of Bravo Two-Zero.
I note that the next one up is simply labelled, “Sir Roger Moore”. I wonder what that could possibly be about?
They’re not bad, if a little heavy on the “everything’s brilliant” side – the first one focussed on David Tennant’s reading of “Pest Control”. Hey! It’s an original story for audio, and fantastically written, fantastically read and fantastically produced. Go and buy it! It’ll be fantastic. I did. And it was quite good, actually.
However, the one I’m listening to now is throwing up some pleasant surprises. It’s a piece on “Men’s fiction on audio” – what sort of audio books do MEN like to listen to, when they’re doing MANLY THINGS, like drinking, pulling birds and throwing up in fireplaces? The answer to that is, they don’t – they’re too busy doing MANLY THINGS, like drinking, pulling birds and throwing up in fireplaces.
Anyway: it’s a two-handed interview with Clive Mantle and Christian Rodska, barely moderated by the purring voice of Kate Thomas who claims to be producer of these things. By the sound of it, she just revs up the readers and lets them go (I'm sure that's not the case, it's just that the boys are enjoying this little chat so much she doesn't have a great deal to do...). Neither of them are taking the interview remotely seriously, which makes for an entertaining listen. “So, Clive – what sort of stuff do you like to read and listen to when you’re not working?” “Things about mountains, mainly. People climbing up mountains. People falling off mountains. People going back down mountains. People dying on mountains, that sort of thing...”
Everytime Kate attempts to introduce a clip from one of the stories under discussion (Andy McNab, usually), our duo greet it with cries of “No! My god! Are you telling me that... we’ve got a clip? Here? Now? Amaaaazing!” and so on.
Christian starts it going downhill – “I find that when I’m narrating these, I have to feel as male as possible. So no high heels. Flatties, possibly, but definitely not high heels. Perhaps just a touch of lippy, but that’s it.” Clive immediately interjects – “perhaps a nice pair of cami-knickers under the combats, though. Just for comfort.” And that’s it. The interview’s out of control from there on.
Following a clip of Christian reading an Ian Rankin story which seems to feature a man lying on a mountain hiding from some other men – Clive would probably enjoy that one – Clive’s only comment is “now, I don’t know about you, but I’m sure I heard the merest whisper of cami-knicker behind that reading...”
Poor old Kate. How she managed to keep a straight face, I don’t know. Although to judge by the number of hard edits in the thing, I suspect she didn’t.
Anyway, all hugely entertaining, even if it doesn’t make me want to rush out and grab a copy of Clive Mantle reading an unabridged version of Bravo Two-Zero.
I note that the next one up is simply labelled, “Sir Roger Moore”. I wonder what that could possibly be about?
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