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The Ashes Part Three - Glory, glory

tim gutterson
We won! Wonderful last day, with a young bloke from England showing so much class and fight that I honestly thought they might just pull it off. (The main character in 'Fever Pitch'? The one who is absolutely pessimistic about, and completely caught up with, his soccer team? That's me.) But in the end we got there, and it's just the best Christmas present - if something as ephemeral as sport can be categorised thus. Oh, look, I know in the grander scheme of things this is a trifle, but right now I am ecstatic to a height comparable to the depths of the previous three losses, so...

Nice to see the Aussies clapping young Stokes, and Michael Clarke and Brad Haddin acknowledging him even in their triumph.

WOOOOOOOOO - BLOOOOODY - HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Jacob Pitts singing

tim gutterson
Every now and then a beloved cugly does something that astonishes. Sometimes for the worse; thankfully, sometimes for the better.

Please; go and listen to this. Jacob Pitts - yeah, the dorky guy from Euro Trip, the smokin' (In every sense) Hoosier from The Pacific, and the inscrutable Tim Gutterson from Justified - singing like his heart is breaking, and it officially slayed me.

Soundcloud.com/youngmanonacid

Starts off like Nick Cave, ends up like - gah, like the best hurt/comfort story you never read.

The Ashes Part 2

tim gutterson
Well. Wow. Wonderful stuff! Australia wins the second test, goes 2-0 up in the series. Even Mad Jack McMad would not have predicted this. The Aussies played beautifully again, and fully deserved the result.

I think it's fascinating to consider what snooker players call 'the rub of the green', meaning that ineffable quality of luck that comes to visit one team or another. It was certainly against us in England in winter, where rain and poor umpiring decisions worked to accentuate the failings the team may or may not have had. (By the way, I do not consider the Broad incident poor sportsmanship - he had every right to stand his ground - but it was another case of poor umpiring). It's those just missed opportunities, the incredible, unlooked-for catches, the dismissals where everything has to go unusually wrong for the batsman for it to come off. I think it's fair to say that now, in this series, we've got the rub of the green with us, even to the fact of winning the toss twice. But it also speaks to the luck you make when you train hard and commit fully - the catching by the Aussies has been exemplary.

England has made much of their own bad luck. Cook has been awful - that second innings dismissal was appalling. Joe Root did very well, and that was an example of bad luck, I guess, when he was dismissed on 87. But most feel to poor shots, and England have fielded poorly - bad catching cost them 238 runs in Australia's first innings.

So, on to Perth, where the pitch is hard and bouncy and fast and Mitch Johnson will be hitting 155kph. Happy, happy days. But I think those writing England off are quite foolish; there was some middle order ticker on display, and for all we know, Mitch will lose his radar and Anderson will have a field day and write us off. Cricket is ever unpredictable.

Dean and Season 9

tim gutterson
I’ve finally managed to just about catch up with SPN S9, although I forgot to record episode 2. Overall, I’m enjoying it. Loved the Wizard of Oz episode. Liked Sonny, and the young bloke who played Dean was outstanding. It’s reasonably strong so far.

But I got thinking about where I am with Supernatural these days, and it struck me that probably the major difference between my level of involvement and that of the earlier seasons is that Dean has become so familiar to me that he is predictable. In this way it’s very like a marriage; after nine years there’s a nice familiarity and appreciation, but there are no more surprises. The blazing passion has gone. Or, to put it another way; if the character of Dean *did* surprise me these days, he would have to be so out of character as to render the whole marriage over, like finding my warm and supportive spouse was secretly an adulterous dope fiend. To surprise me, they would have to destroy Dean.

It means that though I like him – indeed, have great affection for him – I am no longer fascinated by him. There’s nothing that I can think of that could be revealed that would challenge my apprehension of the character. What is the most extreme thing he could do whilst still being true to who he is? Sacrifice Sam for a greater cause? He’s done it. Torture to gain information? Ditto. Prove to be capable of manipulative, lying behaviour? Yep, done that. I can accommodate a wealth of failings and actually resist others that some folk have saddled him with because I understand him holistically to be a courageous, self-sacrificing, flawed but noble human being.

Yes, they’d surprise me if Dean was revealed as, say, a child molester, but then that would radically alter my understanding of so many other fundamental aspects of his character that it would destroy the relationship (that is, the way I engage with this fictional creation).

I think this level of familiarity and predictability means that I no longer rush to watch the show, waiting for revelations. At heart, I am fascinated by characters. The plot will do whatever it does but its main purpose for me is to reveal character. I find ‘The Walking Dead’ to be rather mesmerising for this reason. I am not thrilled by zombies or apocalyptic visions per se, but I am intrigued by how characters gradually unravel or become tempered to strength by the challenge. And I don’t think Dean has much left to show me in this regard – it is all variations upon a well-known theme now. Of course, I may well be completely wrong.

I can’t help but compare my current level of interest in Dean with my current level of interest in Tim Gutterson of ‘Justified’. Tim remains largely unknown to me, and so I am drawn to him. What I *think* I have garnered about his character is extremely likeable, but there is so much that remains open to interpretation or speculation that I find myself working over the scant evidence again and again. I had a great discussion about this with freshouttaink, who took a scene in S4 (when Art bellows at Tim) one way, and I a completely different one. She saw (if I am not misrepresenting her) Tim as being a little dismayed or upset that he’d earned Art’s disappointment; I saw his look as one of borderline contempt, a ‘Seriously? I’ve been yelled at by experts.’ In cricketing parlance, Art delivered a bouncer and Tim just gave it a flat-bat swat straight back over his head. And the gorgeous thing is that one of us or neither of us could be right. Jacob Pitts himself gave a wonderful quote the other day that he thinks he has misjudged Tim – that he, JP, was not decent enough to appreciate Tim’s courage. It’s a typically self-deprecating JP quote, but it’s interesting in that the actor is still trying to find the character too, so it’s no wonder that I’m engaged in that screen/self dyad of creation.

When I look back at those characters for whom I’ve felt a kind of love, some have become exes whom I’d cross the street to avoid; some remain old lovers who can still re-ignite a burst of passion when we meet again before gently returning to near-oblivion; and some have settled into a kind of easy companionship. I think Dean is there at that last stage for me now, and I hope that the PTB do nothing to change that. I may no longer have all those butterflies and heart pounds that come with the first blush of romance, but I do have fondness and appreciation and respect. That’ll do.

The Ashes part 1

tim gutterson
Well, so much to enjoy so far. The latest is watching Stuart Broad saying the Poms are 'proud' that they don't comment about other teams. Joins Andy Flower's 'We set our standards, the Australians set theirs.' Enormous hilarity all round. Suuuuure. Presumably there's been some sort of MIB mind wipe of much of 2013 for the Brits... Basically, bravo Pup, and let's turn down the hypocrisy a little England, shall we?

But the cricket has been great. Of course I'd say that, we won, right? But I meant to post last Thursday, when I was happy but precariously so after Haddin and Johnson began our fight back. I thought that very first day was terrific, even though England would rightly think they won the day. I loved watching Alastair Cook bat so resolutely to save the match (in fairness I must confess I loved it even more when we got him out, but well played, Cookie). I loved Mad Mickey making a ton - he is always a joy to watch. Loved Lyon getting some wickets. Loved Swann getting bugger all (as he and Anderson are the only Poms I can't stand).

I remain unconvinced we'll regain the Ashes this time round. Rogers, Watson, Bailey, Smith - unconvincing line-up. I think the Brits will bounce back in Adelaide; they still have a much better batting team than we do. The way they collapsed twice in this Test is surely an aberration. We might get another in Perth if Mitch keeps his radar in some kind of working order. But we need to win three... Still, can't do better than we've done so far, can we? C'arn the Aussies!

And best wishes, Jonathan Trott. Hope you get better soon, and good on you for being open about the reason you went home. I have not heard a single Aussie express anything but concern and admiration for you, and I am sure that your courage in letting people know how you're struggling will help many people face their own mental health issues.

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My wishlist

tim gutterson
My wishlist - well, it's my happy place, shallow wishlist I'm putting here. Not the other one - you know, where I wish that all Tea Party Republicans were sucked back through the space and time vortex to their alternate reality where the words coming out of their mouths made sense. Or where I wish that Tony Abbott, Cardinal Pell and Julie Bishop might be caught in flagrante delicto and forced to resign, leaving Father Bob Maguire to run the Catholic Church in Oz by popular acclaim and Malcolm Turnbull to perhaps wrench the Liberal Party back towards moderate, compassionate conservatism. Or where Ass(he)ad realises he's unfit to lead a lamington drive and leaves Syria forever, as moderates from both sides rush to fill the leadership vacuum and peace breaks out all over. Yeah, we'll take those ones as read.

No, this is my wishlist for Season 9 of Supernatural and Season 5 of Justified.
Tim for the Win!Collapse )

Heroes (not the TV show...)

tim gutterson
Who is your hero? A student of mine brought the topic up the other day. It's really not something I actually think about too often; it may be that it's not culturally too closely aligned with Aussie culture, in the same way that we just don't talk about 'our dreams' as perhaps Americans do. Our British colonial heritage keeps that sort of revelation tight to our chests, thank you very much.

But I started thinking about this the other day when challenged. And I thought of three people immediately. I think that's the true test of who is a hero; you can name whoever you want, for whatever PC reasons you might have... But who honestly is capable of actually changing your own behaviour, in a What Would Dexter Do? Kind of way.

For me, and first, it's Nancy Wake. An Aussie living in Paris at the start of the Second World War, who involved herself in resistance activities until it became too hot for her, then fled to the Uk where she trained with the SOE to be parachuted back in as an agent. She ended up fighting with a group of partisans, insisting on wine and make-up even as they camped on the Massif Central. She had extraordinary élan, and the story that always, always comes back to me was when she rode a bike across the mountains to warn off an attack that would have been catastrophic. Her thighs were rubbed raw, and she didn't get off the bike for at many, many hours because she knew if she did she'd never get back on. Every time I am doing something that challenges me physically, I tell myself, 'Nancy rode across the bloody mountains with cheese grate red thighs, FCOL. Get a grip!' That three day ride remains a constant heroic reminder to me of true courage, and I have used it when I needed it.

Raoul Wallenberg, the righteous gentile from Sweden. Look him up if you don't know his story. Every time I need moral courage, I think of him and remind myself that to compromise in the face of bullying-which is to say, the face of evil- is worse than the evil you are facing. If you don't know better - if you truly think you are doing the right thing even as you intimidate and control others to their detriment, you are still less morally accountable than the person who understands the morality, who sees the compassionate, decent path, and chooses not to take it. I think of him, and have done so since my mid twenties, every time I am afraid to stand up to the powerful people who are making unkind, unjust, immoral choices. I have never dealt with the kind of stakes he did - saving hundreds of Hungarian Jews by rubber stamping them into Swedish citizens, in the face of Nazi oppression, and ultimately at the cost of his own life - and I sincerely, deeply, hope I never will. But I tend to think moral courage is a muscle like any other; exercise it regularly, and it grows in strength, so that should a crisis occur, it's there for you when you need it.

And Australia's Geoffrey Robertson, a man who has taken on churches and governments in the pursuit of justice. I think of him when I grow weary of seeing arseholes doing what they like, where and when they like, without compunction, simply because they are adhering to that time- dishonoured dictum that might is right. Geoffrey, and others like him, work incredibly hard in The Hague to bring such people to account. I think of him when I need encouragement, when the fight wearied me and I think the arseholes have won. His lesson is perceptiveness and persistence. Be aware of what's happening, be ready to raise your voice, keep your sense of humour because that's something that the small-minded ( and ironically, it's the pettiness of tyrants that strikes me most) struggle to curtail or contend with.

So these are my heroes; people I conjure up in my head to hold me to account. I guess that's not necessarily what people always think of when they market 'superheroes' - they're looking for someone to rescue us from external threat. I guess I'm looking inward for someone to rescue me from my worst failings; my cowardice, my selfishness, my fear and anger and bigotry.

I'd love to know who inspires you. Do you have someone(s) who challenge you to be better?
''
tim gutterson
I've had an interesting fortnight as a parent. I've come to realise I'm as hardcore and take-no-prisoners in my approach as the most zealous fundamental Christan; only for my child it's a lefty social justice dogma. My daughter is being socially engineered full of attitudes towards LGBTQ folk, racial difference, refugees, the poor, differently abled, and so on. There is never an opportunity missed that I don't ram home the lessons, and when I reflect on that, it's no different, in its style, to a god-botherer in full flight claiming Jesus and God in everything that happens. I can only hope she doesn't react completely against me as a teen and go full-on neocon.

Small and I sit and watch the news together. She's ten. I don't know if this is good parenting or not. I just know that parents kind of /sort of reproduce themselves, but in the updated, better model; 'me but better' is what's going on. And the news matters to me; it's not so much that I can do anything about death in Iraq from car bombs, but at the least, at the very and insignificant least, I can acknowledge the passing of 48 people in another car bomb attack. Does this matter? I don't know. But I comment: I tell her, how sad. That's awful. If it happend in Australia, we'd do nothing but talk about it for a week. How come we only have it down the news, and we won't really care? That's what she's hearing.

What will shape another human being? I think parents can only do so much. I do believe there's a genetic component; creditable research tells us that left wing people use more of their brain than right, so maybe we can look at them as disabled? Not quite as evolved? I think, already, that Small is there: she makes comments that are beyond what I drum into her, that tell me she's thinking about multiple causes, multiple needs.

And something else is helping: she'd wildly into Dr Who. The Sarah Jane Chronicles. Star Wars the Clone Wars. Lord of the Rings. And as we hear and watch these stories, I'm talking afterward; how hard it was for the Doctor to make that decision. Did you think Donna made the right choice? What would you do? Was Ahsoka right? Do you agree with that stuff at the start of Clone Wars?

Now, here's an interesting proof of the pudding: Small has seen, and we've discussed, the situation in Syria. Is this good parenting? *I don't know!!* It just seems right to me. So as we were watching Dr Who, Chris Eccleston, Ep 1 tonight, she turned to me and said, "It's really important, Mum, that they give Syria a choice. You shouldn't attack someone without giving them a chance to make a good choice."

Wow. I will argue, vehemently and to my dying day, that nothing in the Christian Bible is so clearcut as the Doctor saying that to Donna and Martha when he beams back up to the Sontaran ship. I have to give them a choice. And Small extrapolated that to Syria, and how bloody right she was.

When we watch scifi/fantasy together we can talk about courage, and sacrifice, and morality. What did it cost Frodo to undertake that mission, gradually realising that he wouldn't come back? What does that mean to us as human beings; what causes do we take up unto death, what do we consider worth dying for? When do you give up? When do you insist on the courage, even when everything is aligned against you? Rose agaionst the Sycorax, stepping forward. It's brilliant. It's breathtaking. It's more real than anything the Bible has to offer, because it's not about pleasing a spaghetti monster in the sky. It's about deciding for yourself what constitutes a good life, and a good death, and deciding that in the service of others, you've found that goal.

Sigh. I suspect that many would disagree with my parenting choices. But finding a moral guide in fables worth exploring - yeah, I reckon that's good education, at least.
tim gutterson
I need something to distract me this morning, so I got thinking about the five fictional scenes on TV that really knocked my socks off. Well, why not? There are plenty of sporting moments, because I do like watching a lot of sport - Steve Waugh's 100 at the SCG, Sally Pearson winning gold at the Olympics, Makybe Diba's third Melbourne Cup, Sydney Swans winning the AFL premiership in 2005 after a 70-plus year drought, winning the America's Cup in 82. 83? Back then, anyway.

There are also plenty of RL moments on the news. The attacks of 9/11. The fall of the Berlin Wall. The Chilean miners being rescued. The Beaconsfield miners being rescued. Stuart Diver being rescued.

But I was thinking of the moments when writers, directors and actors came together to create out of a fictional world something that genuinely emotionally affected me. The resultant emotion, birthed as it was in a fictional construct, lasted with me for days after the first viewing, and now, as I set myself the challenge, they come straight to me without any kind of digging. These are occasions when I *hurt* for the imaginary characters who suffered onscreen.

1. The death of Dean Winchester: Yeah, which one, I hear you sigh. Well, the end of Season 3, of course. The entire season had been a slow, torturous build towards a dramatic climax. I remember my heart was beating quite strongly as I sat down to watch it, how invested I was in the fate of this fictional hero. As the episode went on, with moments of excruciating poignancy and fear throughout, my mind was racing ahead to foresee the deus ex machina that would get him out. Emotional farewells, last minute switches, Bobby will come through, won't he? And it will probably be lame, because how can they suddenly pluck the answer? But I don't care, just do it, now! And then it happened, as they'd promised all along it would - Dean was ripped to death by hellhounds in front of his screaming brother, and it was devastating. A reel away from the screen whiskey rating of 5 big ones. Stat.

2. Benton Fraser, Due South, Victoria's Secret part 2: At the end of the first season, the evil genius (and weird Scientology follower) Paul Haggis used the penultimate double-parter to deconstruct the character we had come to know and love. Ben Fraser, the conscientious, kind, thoroughly courageous and decent man became trapped in an obsessive love affair that allowed him to indulge in self-absorbed myopia for just a few days before it turned around and destroyed him. It was shocking, and it hurt, and it took his partner shooting him in the back and, for all I knew, killing him to save him. Freudians would have a field day (his partner penetrated him from behind, after all, and suffice to say this was the time I discovered the joys of m/m slash), but that scene on the station, with snow falling, his father's ghost bending over his dying body, and the words of Gerard Manly Hopkins whispering over all remains one of the most powerful things I've ever seen. A reel away from the screen whiskey rating of five.

3. Alexander Siddig, The Big Battalions: This is less familiar, I suspect, but this was the first time I think I genuinely mourned the death of a screen character. Alexander played a sweet, naive young British man searching for spiritual answers who decided to embrace his Islamic background and so travelled over to the Middle East. There, in the last episode, almost at the end, he is an innocent caught up in militant action and uselessly, wastefully, shot dead. This one stayed with me for weeks. A reel away from the screen whiskey rating of five.

4. Warriors: Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew MacFadyen: Warriors is a heart-wrenching two part story of UN soldiers in Bosnia. This was probably the first time I noticed Matty Mac, though he’s become a real favourite (if not a butter my muffin boy). The awful horrors of that war and the added horror of being a helpless witness to it does incredible damage to two decent human beings. It was not unexpected to watch Alan struggle in civilian life, yelling at a spoiled child in a supermarket, but it hurt nonetheless; but the emotionally wrenching part was seeing the decent, sane, intelligent John, played by Ioan, the man who did everything eh could to keep his unit safe and together, calmly checkout a gun right at the end of the story and return to his room in order to commit suicide. I remember watching this and actually saying out loud, “Oh, no,” with a hand at my mouth like some Victorian maiden. As it happened, they realized in time and got to him to stop him, but it was agonizing for a few minutes. When thinking of this topic, those final scenes – Alan in the supermarket, John in his room – came to me immediately. A reel away from the screen whiskey rating of four.

5. Supernatural, Dean Winchester, What is and What Should Never Be: the grave scene. I cried the first time I saw it, I have cried ever since. Beautifully, beautifully played, written, shot. But somehow transcendent, too, in the fact that his sorrow is not greater than his courage. A reel away from the screen whiskey rating of three.

After I compiled this list I realized that all my big TV moments are to do with death or despair. However, had I compiled a list of movie moments, they would all be triumphal – Robert Redford running in slow motion around the bases, Colin Firth proposing in appalling Portuguese to the beautiful Orelia, Red joining Andy on the beach, Robert Redford and Paul Newman getting up off the floor, Dith Pran staring down at the Red Cross tent. I suspect that the difference lies in the media – movies hold the possibility of a sad ending in a way that TV never used to, so when they end on a feel-good moment, it still rates as a win. I grew up watching TV in the sixties, seventies, eighties, when triumph was the mainstay of weekly shows. The Good Guys won. It was a given. It’s really only been in the last fifteen years or so that TV shows have bucked that inbuilt expectation and offed people with gleeful abandon. I think it’s been hardwired into my psyche, though, so when favourites did die (or seemed to) I was genuinely shocked.

I wanted to include the Band of Brothers finale, Richard Winters’ comments at the end, through barely suppressed tears, that he wasn’t a hero – but he fought with heroes. I have never yet managed to watch that without howling to the moon. But even though BoB is a fictionalistaion of a true story, it’s the real bloke who slays me, so I can’t really declare that a fictional character. (But then, BoB is a quagmire of real/not real, fiction/non-fiction that stops me from ever trying to write BoB (or The Pacific either, dammit, though I’d love to have at Hoosier and Leckie) for fear of doing a disservice to real, courageous people).

I also almost included the infamous Red Wedding from Game of Thrones. But although it shocked the hell out of me, it didn't stay with me; principally, I think, because I wasn't deeply invested in the characters involved, much as I liked them.

I mentioned at the start that I need a distraction. Well, my country has just elected an utter arsehole to run the place. For those of you who are American – imagine how you would have felt if Mitt Romney had won. It is a disaster for women, children, the poor, migrants, refugees, GLBTQ people, the education sector, foreign aid, the environment, the climate change catastrophe.
I’m devastated, disappointed, depressed and disgusted, and desperately reminding myself that there are people in genuinely awful situations, good people in Syria for example, for whom I should save my sympathy. I’m trying for perspective. Give me a day of mourning, then I’ll think about what I can do to earn a living if my job goes due to the way the Mad Monk is going to attack universities.

The subjecvt title comes from what my child said after bursting into tears watching the sad part of 'Cars': "It's too big for my heart." Indeed.

So, what are your moments of small screen shattering emotion? I'd love to hear what slayed you, and if you agree with my thoughts re any of the above (not that there's a right or wrong here, just whether your Big Moments are triumphal/happy ones compared to my bloody angst blowouts).

The Tin Ear

tim
I don't pretend to be immune. Good lord, no. But in the spirit of the fact that consumers, observers, critics and enjoyers do not necessarily have to have the skills they appraise, may I offer a few thoughts on that great disabler of good dialogue writing, The Tin Ear.

Experienced script writers can have it, and experienced actors save them from it. Whenever an actor says, "No, you could never *say* this", it saves any number of script writers from ridicule. I know Jensen and Jared have done so, many times. Something that reads heroically on the page sounds just shit-awful when uttered. The very good writers already hear that beforehand, of course: but I don't count Dabb and Lofflin in my pantheon of 'good' writers.

I downloaded two series recently. One was Copper, set in New York in the late 1800s; one was Ripper Street, ditto. I can't speak to the quality of the stories in comparison; I lasted twenty minutes with Copper. It looked a million dollars - they spent twenty minutes and five bucks on the script.

Here's where I lost it: a female character says to a male, "Promise me you'll be safe." It reeked of every soap I've seen in the last twenty years. "Give me your promise that you will keep safe", or something like it; *yes*, then, I am transported back a hundred and fifty years, then it all makes sense. But I don't care how beautiful the sets and costumes, if characters are speaking like they wandered off the set of the Bald and the Buggered, then it's just not going to work for me as an historical series. That example was simply the last of a series of increasingly tin-eared efforts in the show. There was no sense of era, no sense of language, which is always, more than wallpaper or fashion, *the* indicator of time. People are still sitting in Regency design drawing rooms today, but they're not talking like Regency people, and it's *language* that differentiates them one from another.

Ripper Street, on the other hand, benefits from writers immersed in late nineteenth century primary sources. The language is flowery, on occasion, but also formal and circuitous and laden with Latin derived nouns and adjectives. I don't know how absolutely accurate it is, but I'd bet an effort has been made, and whether right or not it doesn't insult the viewer with 21st century banalities. Even if it's ersatz, it *sounds* right. And, you know: Matty MacFadyen rocks.

Of all the thousands of fanfics I've read, I reckon I've come across a handful of decently written historical fic. But, to be fair, that's comparable with the amount of decently written historical fic that I've read in formally published stories. I liked early Winston Graham; his Poldark stories managed to avoid sentimentality and convey a sense of the time. He was also brilliant at evoking dialect and accent without writing pages of tortured English: I remember him writing a character saying, "Tedn't right. Tedn't proper" and immediately getting a sense of the Cornish accent, without reams of other examples to capture it. (Then he got all weird and sexually frustrated in the later series).

Just try it, if you're writing: try saying the words you've put into your characters' mouths out loud. If it's embarrassing to say, if it shrieks of bullshit, it's probably not what people say in real life. Often we say the most banal things in the times of the most extreme torment. But those banalities are not going to be screen banalities: I don't think people ever say, "Let's get out of here", despite it being the most common line in modern film (or so I've heard). In Pompeii at the time of the Vesuvian eruption, they weren't saying that, or "Thus ends a great city." They were saying, "I've left my bag": "Where's the flagon?"; "Do we - should we do something?"; "I haven't got my shoe". They were saying something utterly commonplace and irreversibly *human*, and when we read that or see that in movies or literature, we recognise it and go, "Yes."

So: Ripper Street good, Copper bloody awful. And Elizabeth Kostova, Queen of the Tin Ear, forever consigned to the flames of hell.

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