Television Can Blow Me (21 page)

Everything’s gone horribly wrong in the second season of Mad Men. Not that it was ever a rose garden but our principal’s lives are getting darker, twisted and just plain wrong. Scratch the surface of every dream and you find a nightmare. Peggy has a son now, though no one at Sterling Cooper must ever know and she never sees him. Don’s infidelity has been found out and now he lives out of a hotel room and only sees his kids at weekends. Salvatore is still the gayest gay that ever gayed yet is still buried in the deepest of marital closets. Can’t anyone be happy?

Also having a hard time of it is Pete Campbell whose father dies in a plane crash. He seems curiously unaffected though I suppose that’s to be expected of the devious blackmailing little shit. He tries unsuccessfully for a child with his beautiful but dumb wife. These are unforgiving times for childless couples, particularly with the fecundity of Harry Crane thrust in your face. What Pete doesn’t know, of course, is that he is already father to Peggy’s secret child. Pete remains a gigantic gaping asshole but it’s credit to Vincent Kartheiser that there remains a sliver of sympathy for the old money cad.

Though that no money cad Paul Kinsey’s worries are less pressing, revolving as they do around finding opportunities to show off his black girlfriend to his chums. In an age when you’re defined by your accessories a black girl on your arm says you’re a little bit unconventional, a little bit edgy and, in Paul’s case, a little bit of twat because, as Joan guesses in a heartbeat, he’s only dating her for the cool value.

That’s admen for you - no one lives authentically. Everybody lies, especially to themselves. Advertising is a lie, an industry peopled by liars lying. The impeccable swank of Don Draper papers over an emotionally butchered young man living in mortal fear of the truth. He’s not Don Draper - he’s Richard Whitman. Born a bastard from his abusive father’s fling with a whore; stealing a dead man’s identity like Principal Skinner in The Simpsons; secrets and lies are all Don Draper has ever known.

But surely good old boy Freddy Rumsen is still trundling along OK? WRONG, assholes. Freddy’s drinking finally brings him down when he pisses his pants right before an important meeting. He gets shitcanned and Peggy gets promoted as a result. Poor Peggy finds this tough to take - Freddy was the first guy to ever believe in her. In Mad Men even joyous events leave a bitter aftertaste.

So pity Draper’s wife, beautiful doomed Betty. You know Betty ain’t right when she persistently flirts with Glen Bishop, the mad 10 year-old boy who wants to fuck her. “I hate you!” he shouts when she finally calls his errant mother to the house. “I know” says Betty sadly. You can’t be surprised, girl. 10 years old and he’s already learning the harsh lesson of mixed messages from women. Of course, if that was the 10-year-old Aerial Telly he would have hit that in no time, knowing how to read women practically from birth. Motherfucker, you don’t want to know the women Aerial Telly made sex offenders out of.
¹

Mad Men remains beautiful to look at and not just because of recently crowned TV Pie of the Year Christina Hendricks. From the gorgeous opening sequence with the silhouetted ad exec hurtling 9/11 jumper style to his doom past the images of early 60s Americana through to the double-breasted suits, fedoras and pleated skirts, it’s a show designed with a rare aesthetic sensibility and an obsessive attention to detail.

Mad Men is about the gap between surface and reality. It’s a parable about what happens when lying becomes your life. Everyone is losing control just when they need to be in control most. Happiness is a myth, contentment is a lie and the American dream has an underside as cruel and disturbing as any Japanese arthouse horror flick. This is the Mad Men moral. You eat shit all your life and then you die alone. So fuck you.

The verdict on Mad Men Season 2:
New and improved.

Marks out of 10:
8

¹
Something sounds off about this sentence but it’s true so fuck you.

Prison Break Season 2 premiere

“What’s got 16 legs, 15 hands and keeps looking over its shoulder?”

We counted down the days like children awaiting Christmas. When it came, the return began with cadaverous FBI agent Alexander Mahone (William Fichtner) at a press conference quoting from the on-the-run journal of John Wilkes Booth, President Lincoln’s killer. It took the authorities 12 days to find the assassin, Mahone tells the assembled hacks, and in that time he writes of how the criminal’s neuroses are “magnified by flight”. Mahone sees parallels between Booth and the Fox River escapees. “In 140 years the escaped man has not changed”. He must be starting to whiff a bit by now?

Oh Prison Break; how do I love thee? Lots and lots, that’s how. Unconditionally, eternally, irrationally. This show is so fucking good. Having successfully executed the world’s most complicated escape plan Michael Schofield, his meathead brother Lincoln “I never did them things” Burrows and six other convicted scrotes are running around like a swarm of blue-arsed flies avoiding the pack of pissed off screws on their trail.

In the tradition of The Fugitive, the Feds’ man Mahone tries to get inside Michael’s head to sniff out his quarry. There are obvious parallels between the two men. Like Michael, Mahone is a sensitive cultured boy driven by an obsessive attention to detail and a consuming need to fix things. Maybe he has low latent inhibition as well? It wouldn’t surprise me. Intriguingly, we see him popping pills from a compartment inside his pen in this episode. We like our pill-popping TV characters here at Aerial Telly and can only speculate on their significance. Is he dying, addicted, taking an E? Because we need an acid house revival like we need our toes chopped off with pruning shears.

Mahone quickly figures that Michael’s tattoo is the key to unravelling the labyrinthine plan. And as Michael and the boys head towards the cemetery for a change of clothes hidden in a grave, Mahone is figuring out their whereabouts by decoding some writing from Michael’s tattoo. It’s a close shave for the boys as Mahone gives chase only to watch them blend into the civilian morass of Cuntcake, Illinois. He looks mad vexed that they got away but you know this shit’s not over.

In civvy street Veronidurrr, the world’s dumbest real-estate lawyer, uncovers NOT DEAD Terence Steadman locked up in a country house. She gets herself killed by phoning the police and being intercepted by Bigger Boys who figure she’s more trouble than she’s worth - a conclusion many of us reached by the end of the pilot in season one.

Meanwhile, TV’s favourite baby rapist T-Bag was cut loose by the gang in the season one finale when they cut loose his hand with an axe. Having stolen an icebox from some campers to keep his hand cool T-Bag decides it’s time to get reattached to his errant digits. So naturally he goes to an Indian veterinary surgeon with his proposal. The Indian vet (played by Apu from The Simpsons) is understandably reluctant what with him not having a fucking clue how to do it and all but T-Bag assures him of a sorry end if he does not make with the impromptu surgery. If only he had the presence of mind to challenge him to a game of stone, paper, scissors. At least T-Bag now knows what the sound of one hand clapping sounds like.

Lovely, lovely Dr Sarah Tancredi is recovering from her overdose to face the music over the possibility that she may have just maybe left the Infirmary door open on purpose for the escape posse in the vain hope of getting some Tattooed Low Latent Inhibition Man Cock from Michael in return. Being a recovering addict, she’s no stranger to poor choices in men. She needs a man like Aerial Telly to give her the kind of pelvis rattling wookie walloping that heroin simply can’t match. She knows my number.

It’s a terrific starter for ten from Prison Break and we expected no less. It set up the series premise perfectly - the battle of wits between Michael and Mahone, the continuing political conspiracy and the battle to get Westmoreland’s buried loot. There will be more intricately weaved plot contrivances, innovative twists, jaw drop shocks and more of Michael’s signature yampy plans in store. It will thrill and appal us in equal measure. Very few shows justify our love with such ball-breaking consistency.

The verdict on Prison Break Season 2 premiere:
Tramps like this - baby, they were born to run

Marks out of 10:
9

Spartacus: Blood and Sand Season 1 finale “Kill Them All”

“Kill them all”. Thus spake Spartacunt, husband, gladiator, Thracian legend. He’s really got no time for Romans, having been shafted by them his entire life and the final straw was finding out that his wife was murdered on the orders of that rat fuck Batiatus. Now it’s payback time. A season’s worth of blood, betrayal and lust on Spartacus: Blood and Sand came to the boil in a meticulously organised script executed with the boldness and flair we’ve come to expect from this show. Hack-and-slash melodrama it may be but showrunner Steven S. DeKnight is Buffyverse alumni. He knows how to tell a story.

For the slave rebellion Spartacunt proposes to go ahead, multiple pieces need to fall into place and the motivations are brilliantly worked out. Why would gladiators risk their lives for a doomed rebellion? Under the new patronage of Gaius Claudius Glaber the ludus is a frenzied hive of Roman ass whippings - brutality reigns as never before. Even doomed rebellion is preferable to this.

Lucretia finding out about Crixus slipping his Gallic schlong to Naevia now means she desires Crixus’s end at the hands of Spartacunt in their death match. The two fruits discuss the proposed rebellion before the bout and Crixus is agin it but they nonetheless swear to honour pledges to each other upon the showdown’s completion: Spartacunt victorious will see Naevia located and Crixus victorious will kill Battyarsetits. Now we have a fight.

Intrigue yet piles on intrigue as crunch time approaches. That clever cocksucker Ashur poisons Crixus’s meal before the fight to weaken him. Spartacunt reveals this to Crixus mid battle and the stubborn Gaul finally realises that his only way out of slavery is in his own strong arm to deliver. Guy coding Spartacunt with his eyes and a tap on the shield, Crixus is all “behold, your springboard!” and Spartacunt, like the crazy bastard he is, runs, rises and vaults all way on to the balcony to skewer the head of a smug Roman fuck on his arrival. It’s a neat way to travel and a glorious way to commence battle.

Although, calling it a battle might dignify the Roman efforts too much. The slaves put a hurting on their masters that shakes Rome itself. Battle? This is a fucking rout. Roman soldier limbs lie scattered like chicken wings at a barbecue as their nobility run screaming. Pukecreature gets kebabed by Crixus, aborting their baby in the process. “I would rather see it dead than suckle at your breast”. She looks at him all “You mean you’re breaking up with me?” before waddling off, her mortal wound trailing corn syrup, piss and raspberry juice after her, to go find Battyarsetits to give him one final piece of grief before she leaves this world. Tough break, Pukes.

Meanwhile, that little shit Numerius gets his from Varro’s widow Aurelia who stabs the 16-year-old dweeb to a lifeless bloody pulp for sealing her husband’s fate. When the confrontation between Spartacunt and Battyarsetits arrives it is a short affair with Batty’s defence for killing his wife a less than convincing one. “I gave you the means to accept your fate!” To which Sparts responds “And now you are destroyed by it” before slashing Batty’s throat as a dying Pukecreature looks on.

Oh and that little slut Ilithyia survives the slaughter by jamming the doors behind her as she escapes, condemning her fellow Romans to certain death. Proper little madam, that one.

You might wonder where Doctore is in all of this. The brother sides with the slaves once he hears from Crixus the full extent of Battyarsetits’s treachery. It a lot to take in but it’s only a one-hour show so after a full 10 seconds of soul-searching he hits the ground running and is quickly pummelling Ashur in swordplay. The crafty Syrian cheats death by hiding under some Roman corpses in the courtyard. Count on his re-emergence next season.