Time to kill off zombie hordes
NAGA Munchetty was commenting on Carol Kirkwood giving the BBC Breakfast weather forecast under a chestnut tree when she said: T.Sangster of The Wirrall wins £35 for that howler. Keep ’em coming to the address at the top of the page. WHAT’S going on with breakfast telly? BBC1 One’s Louise Minchin said “sh*tted” when she meant fitted, ITV’s Sean Fletcher claimed BT customers could see their balls drop…rather than bills.
Shocking. One breakfast TV source tells me that if Mary Whitehouse were alive today she’d be doing her butt.
IF there were any justice on TV, Siobhan Smith would have survived on The Apprentice.
Strictly would have given Bruno the boot. And Gemma Collins’ trapdoor would have deposited her lardy arse directly into Pat Phelan’s cellar o’ doom.
If there were any sense, bosses would know when to knock shows on the head. The Walking Dead reached its one hundredth episode last week.
In occasionally stirring scenes, hero Rick Grimes and his allies finally took down vicious tyrant Negan, the Craig Revel Horwood of the zombie apocalypse…which was just as well.
Last season was so sluggish it turned into The Sleep-Walking Dead. But how much longer can our small band of survivors evade the hungry clutches of the flesh-munching undead?
And how much longer will we care? Even the producers seem to have lost interest in the zombies, who are just wheeled out like dumb decomposing cattle these days.
Sure, they look the business – this show conjures up the scariest images since Honey G threatened to strip for Playboy. But where’s the bite?
The walkers aren’t the threat any more, rival humans are.
Negan, played brilliantly by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, was a magnificent Email me at: garry.bushell@ dailystar.co.uk or write c/o Daily Star Sunday,
10 Lower Thames Street, London
EC3R 6EN enemy for former deputy sheriff Rick. With his vast mob of Saviors and brutally customised baseball bat, Lucille, this swaggering psychopath was the show’s most unsettling character since Merle Dixon.
But like judges’ houses on The X Factor, the Negan pantomime dragged on way too long – and he’s still not dead.
It was terrific to see Rick’s motorcade decked out in corrugated iron shields and Daryl on his hog setting off roadside bombs to lure the lurching hordes towards the enemy compound.
Yet the battle felt flat compared to Game of Thrones, and it was irritatingly inter-cut with scenes of an older, heavily whiskered Rick.
Do they really expect the show to run for another seven years?
There is enough source material to sustain it.
In the comics, new enemies called the Whisperers rock up. But you can have too much of a good thing. The Sweeney called it quits after 53 episodes, The Sopranos managed 86, GoT – a vastly smarter drama – will throw in the towel after 73. Sometimes the greatest gift in TV is knowing when to stop. NEW Stranger Things (Netflix) ...Katya Jones, right, Strictly… Damson Idris, Snowfall...Rock n Roll (SkyArts). TRACEY Breaks the News, left – the writers barely broke a sweat… Sounds Like Friday Night – TV’s latest gift to rhyming slang...The 18-30 Stone Holiday – a fat lot of good. THE perennial pox of grown men crying on talent shows. Childish names for weather phenomena. Storm Brian was particularly naff – Storm Bastard would’ve made more sense. LAST weekend saw harrowing scenes of torture and agonised screams on our screens…and when The X Factor ended Gunpowder had more of the same.
The BBC’s “historical” drama wilfully distorts the facts. No women were crushed alive in 1605, the year of the Gunpowder Plot.
That happened just once, 19 years earlier, to Catholic saint Margaret Clitherow (who wasn’t stripped naked and executed publicly). Before that, unmentioned by the Beeb, Bloody Mary burned hundreds of Protestants at the stake.
‘Oh, I thought Carol was going to show us her conkers’