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Friday, 30 September 2016


Sometimes it seems as if we are under some legally binding obligation to revere certain performers, albums, books, films and TV shows, so much so that to offer even the merest whiff of criticism provokes gasps of indignation from diehard fans.

I was reminded of this during The Great British Bake Off hoo-haa, which is still rumbling on in some quarters and how devastated hordes of viewers were/are at the news of channel transfers and some presenters declining offers to move with the programme.  It even made the news! What the fondue is that all about? I have never watched The Great British Bake Off but good luck to those who love it. However, it's only TV, not the end of the world.

News of series three of The Fall got many viewers into squeaky fits of delight but as I watched the first episode last night, all I remembered was the dreary, drippy, oh-so-slow performance of Gillian Anderson, who chooses to whisper in every scene for no reason whatsoever.  It is a sluggish programme that had a great premise in series one, stretched into series two and, now, it looks like series three will be more cat and mouse, a three-legged cat and a comatose mouse. I know what I mean.

I love Bruce Springsteen but he has recorded some duds.

I love Bob Dylan but he has recorded some duds.

I love Van Morrison but he has recorded some duds.

I love The Beatles but they have recorded some duds.

I love John Wayne but he has been in some dud films.

I adore The Rockford Files but there were a few clunkers in that long run.

My point is, love the creators and the stuff they create but you're not compelled to love all of it just because it's them.

Savour and adore the good things but don't be afraid to say it's crap if it's crap.

I'll leave it with you.

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