To say "life is a blur" is a statement that's all too easy to push away, and disregard as an overused cliché. After all, we all live lives. To say that life is a rollercoaster to a fellow human is not going to be breaking news for them. And yet, it's almost impossible not to say at times - times such as starting your first ever week of Higher Education.
But before I get to that, I want to briefly slam this train of thought into reverse gear and reflect back on my previous form of education - Sixth Form. Right up until the summer months of 2016, I was essentially spoon-fed all my tasks and information; my only job was to memorise all the alphabet soup that was being injected into my brain. All 'reading' was done in class, and all homework was non-critical to the final grades. It was essentially education on cruise control.
Almost whilst sleepwalking, it feels as though I have just stepped into a completely different life. Suddenly I find myself saying goodbye to Bedfordshire (mind you, not much love lost there), and hello to this strange new place they call Coventry. Suddenly I have my own living space, I'm making my own meals, I'm doing all the chores, and managing more bills. It is, understandably, incredibly overwhelming to take in.
Thankfully Universities are not oblivious to that fact. One of the major things that occur to help you settle in is something called 'Induction Week', where all the modules and tutors are introduced to you. That has been and gone for me now, so I want to use this little slice of a webpage to reflect back on how this first week has gone for me.
However, as important as Induction is, if I wrote solely about that then I would be completely neglecting the 'other' side to the student life. And no, there's more to the other side than just alcohol. Not much more, granted, but enough to write about.
Let's start with the accommodation. From the very moment I took a step into my private room, it hit me, and it hit me hard. All this is here was mine, and mine only. All of this that I see in front of me is now solely my responsibility to upkeep. I was nervous but damn excited to have my own freedom. The thought of doing what I want, when I want was making me giddy with excitement, but I knew it wasn't going to be plain sailing.
With the first day fears quickly eradicating, it was time to tackle Induction. Once again, this was another time to have butterflies in my stomach, simply because I didn't have a hoot of a clue of what to expect. However, there was only one way to find out...
The easiest way I can sum Induction up is this: whoever originally came up with such an idea, I owe my life to them. As someone who is inherently a bit on the quiet side, Induction really allowed me to settle into the groove of things before the modules had even begun. Tutors were warm and friendly, guest speakers were insightful and fascinating, and course mates approachable and funny. I was particularly engaged with the lead editor of Yahoo Movies UK, Tom Butler, whose brilliant combination of humour and intellect provided a unique insight into the world of online journalism, and how the trade works, right down to the nitty-gritty.
So here I am, on the other side of the first week. I now know where my rooms are, who my tutors are, what my modules are about, and even have a few decent friendships forming already. Now, if only someone could teach me how to perfect ironing...
But before I get to that, I want to briefly slam this train of thought into reverse gear and reflect back on my previous form of education - Sixth Form. Right up until the summer months of 2016, I was essentially spoon-fed all my tasks and information; my only job was to memorise all the alphabet soup that was being injected into my brain. All 'reading' was done in class, and all homework was non-critical to the final grades. It was essentially education on cruise control.
Almost whilst sleepwalking, it feels as though I have just stepped into a completely different life. Suddenly I find myself saying goodbye to Bedfordshire (mind you, not much love lost there), and hello to this strange new place they call Coventry. Suddenly I have my own living space, I'm making my own meals, I'm doing all the chores, and managing more bills. It is, understandably, incredibly overwhelming to take in.
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| Welcome to the Jungle |
However, as important as Induction is, if I wrote solely about that then I would be completely neglecting the 'other' side to the student life. And no, there's more to the other side than just alcohol. Not much more, granted, but enough to write about.
Let's start with the accommodation. From the very moment I took a step into my private room, it hit me, and it hit me hard. All this is here was mine, and mine only. All of this that I see in front of me is now solely my responsibility to upkeep. I was nervous but damn excited to have my own freedom. The thought of doing what I want, when I want was making me giddy with excitement, but I knew it wasn't going to be plain sailing.
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| "Home", sweet "home" |
How right I was. The first night was particularly difficult, because once the adrenaline starts to wear off, you suddenly realise that you're at least sixty miles away from even the closest family member, and despite literally sharing a building with hundreds of other people your age, you feel isolated and abandoned. I'm just so incredibly thankful that my flatmates were so warming and friendly to me.
With the first day fears quickly eradicating, it was time to tackle Induction. Once again, this was another time to have butterflies in my stomach, simply because I didn't have a hoot of a clue of what to expect. However, there was only one way to find out...
The easiest way I can sum Induction up is this: whoever originally came up with such an idea, I owe my life to them. As someone who is inherently a bit on the quiet side, Induction really allowed me to settle into the groove of things before the modules had even begun. Tutors were warm and friendly, guest speakers were insightful and fascinating, and course mates approachable and funny. I was particularly engaged with the lead editor of Yahoo Movies UK, Tom Butler, whose brilliant combination of humour and intellect provided a unique insight into the world of online journalism, and how the trade works, right down to the nitty-gritty.
So here I am, on the other side of the first week. I now know where my rooms are, who my tutors are, what my modules are about, and even have a few decent friendships forming already. Now, if only someone could teach me how to perfect ironing...
As I'm fairly certain that you as the reader can attest to, no two days are ever the same when it comes to the moods you feel from day-to-day; the world is just way too big and unpredictable to let you go hours and hours without some form of mood change. The thing I find about these changes in emotion is that it doesn't only change your perception of your surrounding environment, but it also affects how you see yourself.
I'm a very tall person, and always have been in the relative sense. Growing up, I was always the tallest in class, or at least in the top 2, and I finally settled at a fairly notable 6"3' when I was around 17 years old. Granted, it's not a crazy tall height, but it's enough to be the subject of all the small talk at family gatherings.
My relationship with my height has very much been one that's love-hate, depending on my mood for the day. On some (predominantly sunny) days, I can appreciate the fact that I'm tall like a stereotypical man, and that I've never had issues reaching top shelves of shops or home cupboards. On the other hand, sometimes I completely and utterly hate the attention that my height brings me. I'm introverted through and through, so sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd is not something I always want. And that's before we've moved on to my biggest gripe...
Body stereotypes are annoying. These days we're told to more or less ignore them, and that they're just constructed by the media - which is true. But both girls and guys are both equally as likely to fall into the trap of comparing themselves with what the 'ideal' physique is. Some could say it's a far bigger issue with girls, but I'm not here to argue that today. All that needs to be said is that I've fallen into the trap in the past before, and it's not nice.
It is, admittedly, quite hard to become morbidly obese when you grow upwards at a vast rate of knots. To put it crudely, when some people were using their energy to grow outwards, I was still using mine to grow closer to the clouds. And while that's all well and good, the downside of that is you tend to become quite slender.
I without doubt eat well over 2,500 calories every day, but I still look like I can fall through a crack in the pavement. My body is disproportionate; I've done too much upwards growing and not enough outwards growing - which takes me back to my point of 'ideal bodies'. I'm disproportionate compared to the models in magazines, but the mainstream media is powerful enough to convince me - and probably you - that those bodies are the right bodies.
It's hard to wrap this blog post up, actually. Usually I find some solution to the problem, and all is well with the world once again. But this time it's a lot harder, because any solution I do think of will be personal and anecdotal, and would therefore be neglecting the (likely) billions of other people having the same sort of worry. It just makes me wonder how much worse this is going to get, now we have the Internet and whatnot.
I'm a very tall person, and always have been in the relative sense. Growing up, I was always the tallest in class, or at least in the top 2, and I finally settled at a fairly notable 6"3' when I was around 17 years old. Granted, it's not a crazy tall height, but it's enough to be the subject of all the small talk at family gatherings.
My relationship with my height has very much been one that's love-hate, depending on my mood for the day. On some (predominantly sunny) days, I can appreciate the fact that I'm tall like a stereotypical man, and that I've never had issues reaching top shelves of shops or home cupboards. On the other hand, sometimes I completely and utterly hate the attention that my height brings me. I'm introverted through and through, so sticking out like a sore thumb in a crowd is not something I always want. And that's before we've moved on to my biggest gripe...
Body stereotypes are annoying. These days we're told to more or less ignore them, and that they're just constructed by the media - which is true. But both girls and guys are both equally as likely to fall into the trap of comparing themselves with what the 'ideal' physique is. Some could say it's a far bigger issue with girls, but I'm not here to argue that today. All that needs to be said is that I've fallen into the trap in the past before, and it's not nice.
 |
| Damn media and their unreasonable ideal body representations |
It is, admittedly, quite hard to become morbidly obese when you grow upwards at a vast rate of knots. To put it crudely, when some people were using their energy to grow outwards, I was still using mine to grow closer to the clouds. And while that's all well and good, the downside of that is you tend to become quite slender.
I without doubt eat well over 2,500 calories every day, but I still look like I can fall through a crack in the pavement. My body is disproportionate; I've done too much upwards growing and not enough outwards growing - which takes me back to my point of 'ideal bodies'. I'm disproportionate compared to the models in magazines, but the mainstream media is powerful enough to convince me - and probably you - that those bodies are the right bodies.
It's hard to wrap this blog post up, actually. Usually I find some solution to the problem, and all is well with the world once again. But this time it's a lot harder, because any solution I do think of will be personal and anecdotal, and would therefore be neglecting the (likely) billions of other people having the same sort of worry. It just makes me wonder how much worse this is going to get, now we have the Internet and whatnot.
Ahh, life updates, perhaps the ultimate case of getting readers to shout angrily "Who gives a flying fuck?" Indeed, I'm very aware that the market potential for reading into a 19-year-old customer assistant's life is relatively narrow, but at the same time, I sometimes like to use this blog as a bit of a diary-esque kind of thing. If that isn't your cuppa, then I totally get you; I wouldn't give a toss, either.
But anyway, here's a flattering recent picture of me, so the post link on the blog home page has an image attached to it. Professionalism.
The last time I did a post like this, it was last summer when I got my A-level results. At the time, they seemed really important to me, and that I had passed one of the biggest milestones of my life. And while that can indeed be argued for, when I look back on it now, it just seems like a mere flash in the pan. My life has moved on loads since that day, and to even think just 9 months ago I was still at school is crazy. It just seems like such a distant memory.
My plan at the time was to not go to university, because the costs of it all repulsed me. I knew, of course, that it was all on loan, and that if I earned less than £21k it wouldn't be repayable, yadda yadda yad. I just didn't fancy being in debt. I suppose it scared me, in a way. Also, I was in the mindset that what I wanted to do (journalism) was something that's gained through experience, not degrees. Again, there are two legitimate sides to this argument, but I won't waste my typing on that one.
Come September 2016. It was just over a month since I got my results, and several months since I last went to school. All of my friends had now gone to university, which essentially left me alone in my home town, doing my customer assistant job day in, day out.
I would like to quickly interject and say I have nothing against my job. In fact, I really quite like it. But what grates on you after a while is the fact that suddenly I had almost nobody to hang out with whenever I felt like it. And while I knew it was possible to get into journalism through merit alone, it became very apparent as the weeks passed that I was making it far more difficult for myself than it had to be.
By the end of that September, I was talking to my friend Connor in the evening through Facebook when I suddenly declared to him that I was going to attend university in September 2017. Bear in mind I had given no proper prior thought to this - it just burst out. Much to my amazement, I haven't looked back since. If I wanted to be all cringe, I would say this was the 'inner me' finally coming out of its shell. But you and I both know that's bull.
So much of the autumn and winter months were spent researching and applying. Considering, as I said, I made this announcement completely on the whim, I had to sort everything out right from scratch. I had to research dozens of universities, craft a UCAS application without any school support, and (admittedly at my own will) check out some potential unis in person. I wouldn't say it was tiresome or overwhelming, but it is a challenge to make sure you pick the place that's right for you. After all, you would be spending years of your life there, and maybe even be based there for your future living indefinitely.
To save you additional reading, the two places that I'd be really happy to go to is either Uni of Sussex, or Coventry Uni. I place Sussex higher purely based on location and scholarship options, but either one would be awesome. And I can happily report I have received an offer from Coventry!
They call it conditional, but the only condition is I provide proof of my results (the certificates), to make sure I'm not a lying bastard. As long as I do that, I'm in bois. And that honestly makes me really happy. It will be a new, exciting chapter of my life, and I really hope the next 7 months fly by, because I really cannot wait to start.
So what a turnaround. I was adamant just 6 months ago that uni wasn't the way, and that it was best to build money and be lucky with my blog. And, you know what, that may still be the best way. But my gut instinct changed, and I really didn't want to fight against it. I suppose if there needed to be a cheesy ending to this post, Never say Never. Bleugh.
But anyway, here's a flattering recent picture of me, so the post link on the blog home page has an image attached to it. Professionalism.
The last time I did a post like this, it was last summer when I got my A-level results. At the time, they seemed really important to me, and that I had passed one of the biggest milestones of my life. And while that can indeed be argued for, when I look back on it now, it just seems like a mere flash in the pan. My life has moved on loads since that day, and to even think just 9 months ago I was still at school is crazy. It just seems like such a distant memory.
My plan at the time was to not go to university, because the costs of it all repulsed me. I knew, of course, that it was all on loan, and that if I earned less than £21k it wouldn't be repayable, yadda yadda yad. I just didn't fancy being in debt. I suppose it scared me, in a way. Also, I was in the mindset that what I wanted to do (journalism) was something that's gained through experience, not degrees. Again, there are two legitimate sides to this argument, but I won't waste my typing on that one.
Come September 2016. It was just over a month since I got my results, and several months since I last went to school. All of my friends had now gone to university, which essentially left me alone in my home town, doing my customer assistant job day in, day out.
I would like to quickly interject and say I have nothing against my job. In fact, I really quite like it. But what grates on you after a while is the fact that suddenly I had almost nobody to hang out with whenever I felt like it. And while I knew it was possible to get into journalism through merit alone, it became very apparent as the weeks passed that I was making it far more difficult for myself than it had to be.
By the end of that September, I was talking to my friend Connor in the evening through Facebook when I suddenly declared to him that I was going to attend university in September 2017. Bear in mind I had given no proper prior thought to this - it just burst out. Much to my amazement, I haven't looked back since. If I wanted to be all cringe, I would say this was the 'inner me' finally coming out of its shell. But you and I both know that's bull.
To save you additional reading, the two places that I'd be really happy to go to is either Uni of Sussex, or Coventry Uni. I place Sussex higher purely based on location and scholarship options, but either one would be awesome. And I can happily report I have received an offer from Coventry!
They call it conditional, but the only condition is I provide proof of my results (the certificates), to make sure I'm not a lying bastard. As long as I do that, I'm in bois. And that honestly makes me really happy. It will be a new, exciting chapter of my life, and I really hope the next 7 months fly by, because I really cannot wait to start.
So what a turnaround. I was adamant just 6 months ago that uni wasn't the way, and that it was best to build money and be lucky with my blog. And, you know what, that may still be the best way. But my gut instinct changed, and I really didn't want to fight against it. I suppose if there needed to be a cheesy ending to this post, Never say Never. Bleugh.
This post does contain spoilers.
I will be the first to freely admit that I'm not much of a movie guy. Sure, I will sit down and watch a theatrical release (and perhaps even enjoy it if the planets align), but they've just never really been my cup of tea. If I did have to only watch one genre of film for the rest of my life, though, I would probably put something light-hearted like a sitcom, or something a little slapstick. Basically, anything that doesn't require me to get invested and think about the plot.
So what was I doing watching a drama film at the cinema today? Well, when you're around your buddies, watching the animated kids' film probably isn't the best step to becoming socially competent. Plus, when you're at the cinema, you want something a bit more than just a production you switch your brain off at. Enter Lion.
I had honestly never heard of this film until today, but we were forced to look through the list of films that were on before entering, because neither of us particularly keep up with the latest releases, and I flat-out refuse to see La La Land. After reading the blurb, Lion sounded engaging - but I knew in the back of my head it had the chance to be cliché central.
The film opens with some beautiful-looking cinematography. Little did I know these exceptional shots would last throughout the entire film. We also immediately get introduced to the main character, 5-year-old Saroo, and his brother, who do hard labour for small earnings to essentially keep their family alive.
I don't want to do the whole plot rundown (even though I will spoil it anyway), but the basic thing you need to know is Saroo gets lost as his brother leaves him on a bench. Saroo - still only 5 at this point - gets back on the train, assuming it will take him back home. Little did he know he would be heading nearly 1,000 miles in the wrong direction.
We follow Saroo throughout the movie with his emotions being very clearly conveyed to the audience. In 10 minutes of movie time we see he goes from homeless, to being kidnapped, to being adopted by an Australian couple; it's quite obviously hectic for him. Upon being adopted, we see he shows signs of adapting to the new culture, before the movie suddenly jumps another 20 years.
This was now essentially the 'second half' of the movie. Saroo is in his mid-20s, he speaks fluent English, and seems to have life in order. However, he has a mission: to find his mum. Even at the mature age, he has strong memories of his childhood, and even certain foods give him vivid flashbacks - vivid enough to set himself on a mission to find his real family.
What follows is what I can only call an emotional masterpiece. This movie shows pretty much every human emotion under the sun, and they're always displayed so appropriately, so elegantly, that it really hits you. I know I've already spoilt a lot of the movie, but I won't give away the ending. Just know it was an exceptional bomb of emotion - the cinema room was full of people sniffling. The way the movie showed direct comparisons of real life events at the end is very powerful, too. The characters were spot on. I didn't even know it was a real story, so to drop that bombshell at the end just makes everything more hard-hitting.
The story isn't deep or clever (why manipulate real life?), but the way it's shot, and the way everything is conveyed is nothing short of jaw dropping. This may have the same genre banner as EastEnders, but honestly, it's on another level. Trust me: I actually enjoyed it.
Edit (12/2/17): Lion managed to win two awards at the BAFTAs tonight! Thoroughly well deserved - I'm amazed it doesn't have the attention it deserves.
I will be the first to freely admit that I'm not much of a movie guy. Sure, I will sit down and watch a theatrical release (and perhaps even enjoy it if the planets align), but they've just never really been my cup of tea. If I did have to only watch one genre of film for the rest of my life, though, I would probably put something light-hearted like a sitcom, or something a little slapstick. Basically, anything that doesn't require me to get invested and think about the plot.
So what was I doing watching a drama film at the cinema today? Well, when you're around your buddies, watching the animated kids' film probably isn't the best step to becoming socially competent. Plus, when you're at the cinema, you want something a bit more than just a production you switch your brain off at. Enter Lion.
I had honestly never heard of this film until today, but we were forced to look through the list of films that were on before entering, because neither of us particularly keep up with the latest releases, and I flat-out refuse to see La La Land. After reading the blurb, Lion sounded engaging - but I knew in the back of my head it had the chance to be cliché central.
The film opens with some beautiful-looking cinematography. Little did I know these exceptional shots would last throughout the entire film. We also immediately get introduced to the main character, 5-year-old Saroo, and his brother, who do hard labour for small earnings to essentially keep their family alive.
I don't want to do the whole plot rundown (even though I will spoil it anyway), but the basic thing you need to know is Saroo gets lost as his brother leaves him on a bench. Saroo - still only 5 at this point - gets back on the train, assuming it will take him back home. Little did he know he would be heading nearly 1,000 miles in the wrong direction.
We follow Saroo throughout the movie with his emotions being very clearly conveyed to the audience. In 10 minutes of movie time we see he goes from homeless, to being kidnapped, to being adopted by an Australian couple; it's quite obviously hectic for him. Upon being adopted, we see he shows signs of adapting to the new culture, before the movie suddenly jumps another 20 years.
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| All grown up, and on a mission |
What follows is what I can only call an emotional masterpiece. This movie shows pretty much every human emotion under the sun, and they're always displayed so appropriately, so elegantly, that it really hits you. I know I've already spoilt a lot of the movie, but I won't give away the ending. Just know it was an exceptional bomb of emotion - the cinema room was full of people sniffling. The way the movie showed direct comparisons of real life events at the end is very powerful, too. The characters were spot on. I didn't even know it was a real story, so to drop that bombshell at the end just makes everything more hard-hitting.
The story isn't deep or clever (why manipulate real life?), but the way it's shot, and the way everything is conveyed is nothing short of jaw dropping. This may have the same genre banner as EastEnders, but honestly, it's on another level. Trust me: I actually enjoyed it.
Edit (12/2/17): Lion managed to win two awards at the BAFTAs tonight! Thoroughly well deserved - I'm amazed it doesn't have the attention it deserves.
Well, when I say 'the' in the title of this post, what I should be saying instead is 'one of the'. You see, it was recently announced that the UK Prime Minister had invited Mr. Trump, the new Presi for Freedom Eagle World, for a state visit. You may be thinking: "Well, what's the big deal over that?", like I did. But you need to know that a state visit means a near-celebratory welcoming for the guest - an event hosted by the Queen. Is this what the misogynistic, Islamophobic, Twitter-twat deserves? In the eye of over 1.7M UK residents, no.
Such speed to invite a President to a state visit is unprecedented, too. Recent history shows US leaders tend to serve a couple of years before being invited for the special visit (official visits as a US representative are different), so the sheer swiftness of the invite has led many to believe Theresa May is trying hard to get into Trump's good books. And while a 'special relationship' may be good politically, Trump's policies blend about as well with the majority UK general population as a glass of milk and cola.
Naturally people were unhappy with May's bending over, and what do unhappy people do? They want their voices heard. Of course, you can rant on Facebook and Twitter all you like, but nothing quite makes a point stand than collaborating all together and amplifying your voice by hundreds. Trump protests were happening all around the country on Monday evening (30th January 2017), and it just so happened I was in London that day.
I had never been part of a protest before, so this was to be a brand new experience for me. While I disagree with almost everything Trump stands for, my hatred isn't quite passionate enough to go out of my way to protest for. However, these people shared my viewpoint, so I didn't feel out of place at all mixing in. They were just far more dedicated, and for that I have nothing but respect for them.
The first thing that hit me as my friend and I approached the organised chaos was the sheer noise. If you imagine what a football stadium sounds like when the home team scores, you're pretty much there, but it was constant. And, though I can't specifically place my finger on how, I could really feel the emotion through the noise. It's weird: it was just a wall of incomprehensible human noises, but the raw emotion was easy to detect. People really hated this man, and rightly so.
The atmosphere was electric. The way people chanted together was addictive. Seeing so many people of all ages, nationalities and sexes unite together over one problem was oddly empowering. I guess it's nice to know I'm not alone in my concerns.
Despite it being so crowded, it was incredibly organised. I never once got squashed, there was never any panic or anger from people; the police were just standing in a row probably having a relatively easy shift. Some of the picket signs gave a good chuckle, too.
My friend and I didn't hang around for ages, but we were there for nearly an hour. We retreated round the back with a slight euphoria, and headed towards Trafalger Square, where, upon Nelson's Column, we got a fantastic view of all the happenings. I had no picket sign, and I didn't really chant anything, but just adding bulk to the protest movement was enough to make me feel part of it all.
In reality, I'm well aware how little protests and petitions tend to do. But at the same time, making the public viewpoint known is undoubtedly pressure being applied to politicians when making decisions. After my unforgettable experience, all I can say is: if a peaceful protest is happening surrounding an issue you care about, don't be afraid to attend it. You will not regret.
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| bow chicka wow wow |
Naturally people were unhappy with May's bending over, and what do unhappy people do? They want their voices heard. Of course, you can rant on Facebook and Twitter all you like, but nothing quite makes a point stand than collaborating all together and amplifying your voice by hundreds. Trump protests were happening all around the country on Monday evening (30th January 2017), and it just so happened I was in London that day.
I had never been part of a protest before, so this was to be a brand new experience for me. While I disagree with almost everything Trump stands for, my hatred isn't quite passionate enough to go out of my way to protest for. However, these people shared my viewpoint, so I didn't feel out of place at all mixing in. They were just far more dedicated, and for that I have nothing but respect for them.
The atmosphere was electric. The way people chanted together was addictive. Seeing so many people of all ages, nationalities and sexes unite together over one problem was oddly empowering. I guess it's nice to know I'm not alone in my concerns.
Despite it being so crowded, it was incredibly organised. I never once got squashed, there was never any panic or anger from people; the police were just standing in a row probably having a relatively easy shift. Some of the picket signs gave a good chuckle, too.
My friend and I didn't hang around for ages, but we were there for nearly an hour. We retreated round the back with a slight euphoria, and headed towards Trafalger Square, where, upon Nelson's Column, we got a fantastic view of all the happenings. I had no picket sign, and I didn't really chant anything, but just adding bulk to the protest movement was enough to make me feel part of it all.
I am completely and utterly a self-confessed Top Gear fanboy. When I first discovered all the re-runs on the UK TV channel 'Dave', I was instantly hooked. I was only about 12 years old at this point, but something hooked me to that show, and I couldn't quite place my finger on why that was so.
Fast-forward to the present day, and I still retain a large amount of affection for the show. I even sat through the entire new series earlier this year, which, if you listen to the hate bandwagons, was no mean feat. Clarkson, Hammond and May had a chemistry that spoke to the audience quite substantially, because it was something they could relate to. It was crude, self-depreciating and slightly bullish behaviour that sent some people running with their fingers in their ears over the lack of political correctness, but others nodding to their 'mates', because they saw the similarities. Down to Earth, if you will.
So of course I was saddened when I heard the news that Clarkson was terminated from his position, but I did understand the situation; punching someone isn't, and probably never will be, OK. But predictably the trio reunited pretty shortly after the drama, and announced they were making their own new show, later revealed to be named 'The Grand Tour', or 'GT' for short. With Chris Evans taking over Top Gear, this was going to be a fiery battle between GT and TG.
Reincarnated Top Gear came first, and it was alright. Loads of people hated it, but you cannot go watching this show expecting the same as the previous presenters. Really, the show should've been completely renamed and re-formatted - that would've avoided the comparisons and potentially heightened its popularity somewhat. Regardless though, I got some enjoyment from the show, but that's most likely just because I like cars. Cars on telly will always please me to some extent. I finished the series with a fair bit of anticipation for the Grand Tour.
After what felt like a complete eternity, the show finally graced us. We were drip fed tiny little details (such as there being a tent, how they're going to globe-trot etc.), but finally in mid-November, it all came together.
The opening sequence was substantial, big-budgeted, and fairly breathtaking. Quite a nice way to introduce the show - or introduce their budget - but it didn't show anything that made Top Gear successful. We had a couple of minutes on a stage in America where the three presenters pandered to the audience with gags and clichés about one another - nothing we hadn't heard before. I was smiling, but out of familiarity rather than outright tickling of the funny bone.
Once we got into the tent, things were a bit weird and unsettling for me. There was a distinct feeling of fakery with this new show. And yes, before you bite my head off, I am well aware Top Gear studio segments were scripted as well. But Top Gear did a far better job of hiding it, and making it appear more organic.
Take the news section, or 'Conversation Street', as it's now called. In Top Gear, you got the impression that the script was some bullet point topic starters and maybe some gags, but the presenters filled the rest in with the banter we know and love between themselves. You often got presenters making hilarious remarks off the top of their head. In the Grand Tour though, each and every word is so painfully scripted, and it's so wooden as well. Clarkson says something outrageous, Hammond points it out, audience laughs. Clarkson shows a car, May makes an old-person comment, audience laughs. It's lacking a soul and feels too robotic for my liking. It's weird though, because technically speaking they aren't doing anything different from TG, but the 'feel' is just completely off.
The VTs are similar in their problems. Once again, I'm aware that a lot of them in TG were scripted to some extent, but you get the sense that when things go wrong, it provokes genuine reaction and laughter from the presenters. The same, however, cannot really be said for the Grand Tour. In episode 3, for example, James goes on about this twitch he gets from Hammond's car. Are we meant to believe that? You could pass it off as a comedic gag, but then you get parts where Clarkson tries to drill it in to the audience by saying things like "No, really, it's genuinely true."
It sounds like I have a complete downer on the GT, but I don't. I'm still highly entertained by it every week, and I'm also well aware we're not even halfway through the first series yet, so I will give it time to get into its stride. But if TG was an 8/10, the GT is perhaps a 6/10 for me. Grand Tour producers, please:
So of course I was saddened when I heard the news that Clarkson was terminated from his position, but I did understand the situation; punching someone isn't, and probably never will be, OK. But predictably the trio reunited pretty shortly after the drama, and announced they were making their own new show, later revealed to be named 'The Grand Tour', or 'GT' for short. With Chris Evans taking over Top Gear, this was going to be a fiery battle between GT and TG.
Reincarnated Top Gear came first, and it was alright. Loads of people hated it, but you cannot go watching this show expecting the same as the previous presenters. Really, the show should've been completely renamed and re-formatted - that would've avoided the comparisons and potentially heightened its popularity somewhat. Regardless though, I got some enjoyment from the show, but that's most likely just because I like cars. Cars on telly will always please me to some extent. I finished the series with a fair bit of anticipation for the Grand Tour.
After what felt like a complete eternity, the show finally graced us. We were drip fed tiny little details (such as there being a tent, how they're going to globe-trot etc.), but finally in mid-November, it all came together.
The opening sequence was substantial, big-budgeted, and fairly breathtaking. Quite a nice way to introduce the show - or introduce their budget - but it didn't show anything that made Top Gear successful. We had a couple of minutes on a stage in America where the three presenters pandered to the audience with gags and clichés about one another - nothing we hadn't heard before. I was smiling, but out of familiarity rather than outright tickling of the funny bone.
Once we got into the tent, things were a bit weird and unsettling for me. There was a distinct feeling of fakery with this new show. And yes, before you bite my head off, I am well aware Top Gear studio segments were scripted as well. But Top Gear did a far better job of hiding it, and making it appear more organic.
 |
| I'm not too convinced just yet |
The VTs are similar in their problems. Once again, I'm aware that a lot of them in TG were scripted to some extent, but you get the sense that when things go wrong, it provokes genuine reaction and laughter from the presenters. The same, however, cannot really be said for the Grand Tour. In episode 3, for example, James goes on about this twitch he gets from Hammond's car. Are we meant to believe that? You could pass it off as a comedic gag, but then you get parts where Clarkson tries to drill it in to the audience by saying things like "No, really, it's genuinely true."
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| It may still be scripted, but Top Gear did a better job of hiding it |
It sounds like I have a complete downer on the GT, but I don't. I'm still highly entertained by it every week, and I'm also well aware we're not even halfway through the first series yet, so I will give it time to get into its stride. But if TG was an 8/10, the GT is perhaps a 6/10 for me. Grand Tour producers, please:
- Ditch the American
- Lower audience interaction
- Ditch the stupid celebrity death gag
- Loosen up the script, at least in the VTs
- But keep up the amazing cinematography