Thursday, June 22

Butter and Brazil

Richey Nash watches butter sculpture, a BB7 porn-a-like and the mental image of Mark Lawrenson’s smacked arse face. Is there no escape?

You want to watch Brazil? Really? Even if Changing Rooms dandy Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen’s presenting the last in the series about the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition (BBC2, 8pm)? You fool.

This programme’s most entertaining moments were also its most bizarre. Artist Davina Garrido de Miguel made a clay head sculpture, in a way akin to the blind woman in Lionel Ritchie’s 'Hello'. Sadly, the sculpture was as convincing as the one in the Lionel Ritchie video – not at all – so now the head model has to pull a stupid face 24/7 to look like the sculpture. Woe is him.

But at least clay’s a sensible medium: flouncy Lawrence did a bit saying it’s easier to sculpt using butter than marble because butter is more, well, buttery. Guess what, Lawrence: it's also easier to spread butter on your loved one to recreate saucy scenes from Last Tango In Paris. Marble isn't as malleable. But he'd still try. The rogue.

And talking of rogues, I switched to Big Brother (C4/E4, for the rest of your life). I must admit, I like this series. Why? Because the ‘orrible people are voted out each week – Sezer, Grace etc. – meaning we keep getting new idiots to villify. Hooray. But there’s only so much bitching I can watch so I left, after consulting The Richey Nash Animal-O-Meter (it never tires) about new inmate Suzie:

Brunette version of softcore porn temptress Shannon Tweed
Animal: pouty duck, so will fight for bread with Aisleyne

And then I went back to the football, to catch the end of Brazil vs Japan on World Cup Match Of The Day Live (BBC1, started 7.30pm). Now, I like Brazil because of its stars: that Rolandinho and Sussuvio (or is that a Phil Collins song?). But apart from them, I ain’t bothered, so here's what I thought about the coverage:

(1) I don't like Mark Lawrenson: either he’s being whiny, or he's sitting in the studio sour-faced, like he's chewing on a poisonous wasp, and you’re waiting for something whiny. The latter's worse.

(2) I want “Gooooooooooooaaaaaaallllll!!!!!” when someone scores, not a muted “What a goal” 20 seconds later and…

(3) The split-screen is great because I only need to sit through one stint of men slightly older than me kicking a ball on a patch of German grass. Hurrah.

In the end Brazil won 4-1, so we all headed back to the studio for awkward matey matey banter between Gary Lineker, Alan Hansen and the two unfortunates who drew the short straws in the BBC trailer. Entertaining and enlightening? Err, yeah, whatever...

I couldn’t stomach it so switched off the TV, but only until those late night call-in quiz shows fronted by nubile women come on at midnight. Don't look at me with those accusing eyes. That doesn’t make me a pervert: if they put them on instead of softcore porn (preferably starring pouty BB7 duck Suzie), what do you expect?

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