'huge, queer and tawdry' but 'much admired by the public'

Krod Mandoon's biggest problem is that if you have five lead characters, defining three of them by the key trait 'incompetent' and two by 'slutty', and then relying on gender and race to differentiate further...well, it looks rather lazy, doesn't it? Still, it's being held together admirably by Matt Lucas (a shocking reminder that, before Little Britain got run into the ground, he used to be really funny) and the Thick Of It alumni - even if it looks like we won't be seeing that much of Supermac from here on in.
Mitchell & Webb, on the other hand, was more consistent than ever - they've clearly got into the hang of writing for TV, not adapting from radio. I especially liked the doorbell replacement. And why has it taken this long for any comics to address the trees that smell of come?

Managed to brave the rather ineffectual strike and get down to London Bridge fine on Wednesday night. The first band on were so generically young person's indie that it's not even worth naming and shaming them, but Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer would have justified a considerably more difficult journey. I had faintly feared that the thoroughly-English-chap-does-rap schtick might not sustain a whole gig's worth of interest, but as with Goldie Lookin' Chain, it works because as well as being funny, he's good. Could probably have made it as a 'proper' rapper if, like his old prep school chum Timothy, he were a little less concerned with 'keeping it real'.
Hadn't realised that headliners the Arndales were friends-of-friends, but they were pretty good too; I suspect the Fall might be an influence, but to me they sounded quite reminiscent of Delicatessen, and to the resident young person's ears, the Horrors. Good stage set-up, too - the keyboardist, who looks a bit like the T1000, sits centre stage, not singing but occasionally miming drinks orders to obliging fans.

Went to a party full of babies yesterday. I concluded that my main problem with babies isn't the things themselves - even if a fair proportion do have the cold, dead eyes of a killer. It's the parents. I mean, if I was out walking and I found a herd of wild babies, I probably wouldn't have a problem. But when I'm around the owners, I'm terrified that every hayfever sneeze is going to be taken as evidence that I'm about to infect the little ones with swine flu. OK, these were all nice, calm parents so that didn't happen. But then one of them headbutts my knee and another one starts trying to burrow under my legs and I'm thinking, this doesn't look good, even considering we are in Haringey. Too, too stressful.