"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

American tv and the future
1:26 p.m. on 2004-08-16

American television imports are like buses. You wait for months and months surviving off tapes of Popular or your mate's West Wing boxset, trying not to succumb to the lures of BBC1 and their attempts at drama, when about six come along at once.

The Sopranos. Tony Soprano easily ranks as one of the greatest television characters of all time. A fucked up bastard who cheats on his wife, is emotionally unavailable to his kids, kills his cohorts and, um, anyone else in nearby vicinity, and yet we can't help liking him, because his mother was a bitch.

Six Feet Under. Great first two seasons, crap third season. Here's hoping the writers have removed their heads from their asses, because this could be so good. And, y'know, Keith is hot.

Nip/Tuck. Okay, I already watched it when it was on Sky One, but I love this show. Yeah, it's glossy, superficial, over produced and attempts to shock with every slash of the scalpel or, um, close-up of Christian's naked ass (the man could crack nuts with that thing. Seriously). But it still manages to cram more into a single episode than the Bill can in an entire decade, and though the characters are despicable, again, you can't help liking them.

The Shield. The best cop drama since Hill Street Blues. Shot in the same style, with no soundtrack, handheld camera movements, the background teeming with extras. A whole cast full of despicable characters here, but it's hard to hate Vic Mackay. Yes, he has that whole, cheating on his wife, abandoning his kids, being a corrupt cop thing down in spades, but... well, he's cute with dogs.

The West Wing. The single most intelligent show in history, it's so clever even the actors don't understand the words they spout. Yes, it's glossy and shiny and pretty, but it covers such a vast array of political issues that it puts any actual political show to shame. Newsnight, watch and learn.

Meanwhile... Louise's wedding and my trip to Sri Lanka are looming fast. Louise and I are spending the night before her wedding in her flat (Craig has been forced by tradition into stopping at his mums) watching Alexander Siddig and Jesse Birdsall, eating Chinese, and possibly making out whilst videotaping the episode to give to Craig as a wedding present.

Okay. Maybe not the last bit.

Sri Lanka feels an age away. At the weekend, one of my dad's workmates asked me "Whether I had anymore trips planned" after South America. I answered: "Not yet. Well, Sri Lanka for a fortnight, but that doesn't count."

Doesn't count?!

I think after SA, Sri Lanka seems easy. I'll be on a plane with my group, met at the airport by my group, I'll go around with my group and then I'll return home with my group. There should be no nasty surprises, other than possibly my luggage ending back up in Tibet.

My only worry is that it will be too short. Two weeks?! Piss!

Listening to: Stephen Fry reading Harry Potter and putting on silly womanish voices

Quote: "Hey. Did everything just taste purple for a second? "

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