David Blaine: Street Magic (sort of)

WARNING: Okay kids, this one's got some bad language.
But it's f****** funny.

• Classic (actual) David Blaine trick

What's wrong with Ricky Gervais's Extras?

I suspected something was wrong with Ricky Gervais when he, and writing partner Stephen Merchant, ended The Office with a two-part Christmas special, in which its star-crossed lovers became uncrossed, so to speak, and all lived happily ever after.

It was lovely, don't get me wrong. But at that moment, when Dawn and Tim kissed, a whole country was watching. And it applauded. Long gone were the days when you and your few like-minded friends would cringe at David Brent, the world's most annoying boss. Now annoying bosses all over the country were watching. And they'd bought the DVD.

Then came along Extras and an admirable effort to shed the catch-phrase loving contingent of Gervais's mainstream audience. Viewing figures dropped and, for the first season at least, Gervais and Merchant remembered how to make a cult TV show.

They just forgot to make it funny.

Okay, that's not fair. It has its moments. But, as the second series finished last week, I wondered, what's wrong with Extras?

I came up with this:

• Andy Millman is the least funny character
  Ricky Gervais is Andy Millman, struggling bit-part actor who gave up his day job in the hope of achieving fame and fortune. Actually, Ricky Gervais is Ricky Gervais, which is not to say unfunny, but it's unimaginative. There's very little creation in the character. Ashley Jenson (Maggie); Stephen Merchant, who plays Darren, Andy's incompetent agent; and Barry "off Eastenders" have less screen time but much more realised characters, far more funny in their absurdity. "Have a bit a muffin." Brilliant. That's some funny stuff.
• He's inconsistent
  David Brent was, like Maggie, Darren and Barry, a more consistent character. In Extras, Ricky Gervais alternates between Andy Millman, the podcasting Ricky Gervais and David Brent. He is, in one scene, cool, condescending and cringingly crude - but rarely consistent.
• It's difficult to sympathise with him
  It's like how do you relate to 50 Cent, now that he's off the street and making millions? Okay, bad example. I doubt many of you were ever on the street, or being shot at for that matter. I don't even like rap...what's my point? My point is, by the second series of Extras, Andy Millman's biggest gripe is that he's late for a meeting with Al Pacino. It's hardly Dog Day Afternoon.

There is no doubting Ricky Gervais's enormous talent. The man has actually made me wee laughing. That's funny. But, with Extras, there is something wrong. And I dread to think that it's Ricky Gervais.

I hope with his next project he can either deliver a character as creative and consistent as David Brent or remain behind the cameras as a stellar screenwriter and director. Maybe we'll see more of writing partner Stephen Merchant. Give him a spin-off show with Barry off Eastenders and I might just wee myself. That's some funny stuff. Right there.

S&M

When my local Marks & Spencer revealed its new store layout last week I was a bit disappointed to find that access to the food hall no longer required a trip through the lingerie section.

It had always been something of a guilty pleasure, having to wade through thongs and things to get to the groceries.

Now however when I want, say, some milk or...baps I can take the escalator directly to the food hall.

But I did notice today that, while I'm quite missing the scantily clad mannequins of the lingerie section, M&S seems to have transformed from department store for the elderly into, what looks like, sex shop for the single.

There is definitely an air of eroticism beyond the wireframed undercup of the lingerie department. Mannequins in ladies' clothes hold hands and look adoringly into each others' plastic eyes; they wear Basques and hang from poles, like exotic dancers; and, as I was leaving the store, I noticed a mannequin in that most suggestive of positions: dressed in office attire, bending over a table!

As I went to push the door I saw two letters, backwards through the glass: S&M. Is this the secret to M&S's recent success? I guess the clothes weren't selling so well so they tried the one thing that does in abundance: sex.

Tony Blair rocks out.

• George Bush and Tony Blair sing 'Endless Love'

FHA

Oh, sweet relief. Some good news today: apparently only three of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (FHA) are bad. One of them is God! I did not know that. I do now!

I had a chat with a couple of Christian chaps on Pride Hill today. One of them had some sort of American accent and looked like a member of Hanson (he also had like ketchup on his shirt or something); the other was from India but looked black. The whole thing was weird. But they were nice kids.

And so I figured while God himself might not removeth thy stain from thy shirt I might as well donate some money in the hope that the Church might offer some sort of laundry service. Plus, the posters they were selling actually looked pretty cool. The one I bought depicted three horsemen in drab, dull looking clothes, brandishing bloody swords and what looked like nunchucks, and another on a white horse, in clean, newly pressed cricket whites. He also had white hair, a white beard and a mean looking bow and arrow. He was God, apparently.

"Is that God?" I asked.
"Well yeah," replied the Christian. "That's Jesus."
"Wow," I said. "That's really a relief."

And so I gave him a pound and went about my way. I might not hang the poster on my wall but knowing that only three of the Four Horsemen are a problem seems one less thing to worry about.

The red, white and blues

As a medieval town Shrewsbury's epicentre is a castle that sits atop a hill - Pride Hill, to be exact, also the namesake of one of Shrewsbury three shopping centres.

The Darwin Shopping Centre is nearest the castle and generally considered the best of the three. Pride Hill is next - a little worse for wear, and then the Riverside Mall. If the Darwin is "king of the castle", then Riverside is something of a "dirty rascal", home to stores such as BeWise, TJ Hughes and Wilkinson, and frankly some of the strangest most miserable of Shrewsbury's inhabitants.

As the town's bottom-most shopping centre, the Riverside Mall sits quite literally in the shadow of its competitors, its customers generally those unable to climb stairs or inclines. Hence, there are a lot of old people and prams in the Riverside Mall. There is also a terrible sense of doom. Yesterday there was even jazz, but it did little to lift the mood of mall staff.

"Ah, bet that's lovely, getting to hear that jazz all day," I said to the assistant, as live music from a 'grand opening' party drifted into the store.
"Well," she sighed as she closed her eyes and clutched her head. "Don't get me started on that."
"Oh...okay," I said.
Hang on, I thought. What does she mean? "What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, it's not my cup of tea," she said, still clutching. "That, out there." With that she used her other hand to point to the black lady singing old standards.
"What?" I asked, intrigued.
"Music."
"You don't like music?"
"Well," she brought her hand down to her side. The clutching had left little white marks on her forehead. "In my own time I do - "
"Right."
" - but I'm working."
"Yeah...did you say you had this in another colour?"
"Only what's on the shelf love," she said abruptly. "If it's not on the shelf we don't have it in stock. OK?"

And so I smiled, bought it in red and stepped out into the mall to see that the jazz band were packing away. "Tough crowd, huh?" I said to the drummer. "Perhaps you ought to play the blues next time."
He looked at me blankly.
"You know, give the people what they want?"