Dark days for fans of happy end
Not quite the smash hit the BBC pretended it was, Poldark’s rippling muscles show ended on a low.
Pulling in a respectable but not massive audience of 5.9million women (and one or two men), the bleak finale was a serious downer.
Feel-bad drama as Ross’s rubbish copper empire crashed and burned leaving his miners penniless and starving. Woohoo.
Half of bloody Cornwall succumbed to “the putrid throat”... including our hero’s flame-haired wife Demelza and their baby daughter Julia. Hurrah.
And just to lighten things up, the Queen Charlotte sank on its maiden voyage. Shipwreck tragedy. Yay.
While Demelza slowly recovered, poor little Julia perished. That tiny coffin was heartbreaking. “Everything I touch is cursed,” boomed her grieving father. He got that right.
Then Captain Poldark was arrested on those majestic clifftops he spends most of his time riding along looking broodingly handsome.
The Beeb eh? Never happier than when it’s making us miserable. But in fairness, EastEnders went a whole week without anyone dying. That’s a first.
Arare chance to catch minor celebrities (cliché alert) “out of their comfort zones” as the BBC proudly presented a load of crap. Literally.
Welcome to TV’s time-travelling treat 24 Hours In The Pas t. A typically worthy production from the earnest state broadcaster on a Reithian mission to inform, educate and entertain.
A mission that wasn’t accomplished from the moment we heard the dreaded words “Ann” and “Widdecombe”.
Why is the television industry so obsessed with this clapped-out Tory battleaxe? Charm, likeability, warmth... she lacks them all. Hence no one likes her.
Meanwhile, do showbiz personalities ever spend any time their comfort zones these days?
How about getting a few brave micro-stars to try a spot of acting or presenting or reading the news? Remembering how to do their actual jobs could be
Anyway, take a bunch of grizzled reality TV veterans back to the Victorian era and plunge them into a world of total sh*t.
A mildly enjoyable combo of manure- based comedy and a history lesson, this self-important tosh is the latest in a long list of formulaic programmes aimed at laboriously reminding us that life used to be tough. Who knew?
So here we are in the 1840s near Birmingham where Ms Widdecombe (Celebrity Fit Club, Strictly) is half-heartedly beating a carpet and Zöe Lucker ( Strictly) is collecting a variety of faeces ( human, horse, etc) from the cobblestone streets. According to modern day scrap dealer Dan Hill turned muck and brass boss, the doggie-do is particularly valuable because of its use in leather tanning. Uplifting stuff.
Notebooks at the ready as host Fi Glover helpfully revealed: “Every year London generated enough poo to fill Queen Victoria’s Royal Albert Hall four-and-a-half times over.” Couldn’t they find anywhere else to dump it?
Later, master mimic Alistair McGowan – who like all impressionists feels the need to demonstrate his voices on a 24/7 basis – and Colin Jackson (Celebrity MasterChef, Strictly) spent an inspirational evening removing the mess from their neighbours’ toilets.
And, failing to understand that there’s no point in all this if you’re going to cheat, Outnumbered bozo Tyger Drew-Honey stole buttons and a gold ring from his pretend employer.
“I’m the Artful Dodger!” he boasted. To which Mr Hill replied: “No you’re not... because you got caught, mate.”
After what was clearly a genuinely hard day’s graft, our exhausted