RIP GMTV

Last Friday early morning classic GMTV was laid to rest in favour of a dire new concept called Daybreak, and like so many things (Opal Fruits, Woolworths, my youth), I just didn’t realise how much I’d miss it until it was gone. It’s a good thing of course, lifestyle-wise; I used to chop and change between BBC Breakfast and GMTV during my toast-munching time, thus missing out on valuable current affairs snippets in favour of red carpet gossip and stories about heroic pets. It’s a new dawn, and that dawn will be filled entirely with disheartening news about house prices and graduate jobs. But I forced myself to watch a good six minutes of the first Daybreak this morning, just to see if it had any of GMTV’s trashy warmth, silliness or unintentional hilarity.

Reader, it did not. Even if you can stomach the toxic combination of Bleakley and Chiles (really?), they are wedged in far too close to the camera in an uncomfortable ‘we get on great!’ proximity. Her rubbery spitting-image smile and his melting caveman expression make it difficult to decide which side of the screen is less painful to focus on, and while today’s weather probably wasn’t a production decision, the vast greyness behind their heads just added to the notion that this was a dark, dark day for breakfast television. The news (and I know no-one ever watched GMTV for the NEWS) was like any other third-rate channel’s news – dull, read by an attractive but nondescript woman and with the same terrible 80s-looking graphics as the rest of the show. Purple and yellow? Outside of an Easter Hat Parade these colours have no business appearing side by side. It’s hard to believe this is the big shift in ITV’s morning schedule, months in the planning. It looks like they had to come up with something in 24 hours, planned using only post its, purple crayons and a perpetual soundtrack of James Blunt in the background.

'I'm gonna punch you in the ovary, that's what I'm gonna do. A straight shot. Right to the babymaker.'

It’s not that GMTV was a sensational piece of topical television; it simply stood for a time when I had options. Bleak day, hungover day, can’t-bear-to-hear-another-economic-reason-my-life-is-about-to-suck day? Ben Shephard’s boy-scout charm and the ramblings of their (clearly on crack) TV guy Richard Arnold would momentarily disperse the challenges of the day ahead. Bad satellite links, verbal stumblings and crying babies drowning out interviews were all part of its wayward charm. Transparent timewasting – during their World Cup coverage, Shephard had a troupe of vuvuzela players competing with an English brass band for a number of minutes I will never comprehend – provided a good opportunity to flick over to the real world, aka BBC Breakfast. But while I know many of you were always exclusively Breakfast watchers, there is a small part of my brain, the same part that enjoys reading Cosmo in the bath, that just doesn’t know how it will get through some segments of a purely-BBC morning. The other day one of their correspondents was wedging himself through small tunnels in a cave for what seemed like hours, as some sort of topical nod to a big cave-related story. I can’t even remember what the point of it was, so traumatic was the coverage. It also doesn't help that the hosts are as forgettable as they are professional, and the business and sports presenters are snoozeworthy even when sipping your first caffeine fix of the day.

So farewell, GMTV: farewell to the interchangeable blondeness of Penny, Kate and Emma, farewell to the Pussycat-Doll-esque weathergirl, farewell to Real People interviews marred by grizzling babies, to Andrew Castle’s valiant stabs at being ‘cool’ and ‘hip’, to Fiona Phillips’ inability to be remotely likeable, to Richard Arnold’s pun-a-minute, ‘ooh matron’ TV coverage, and to many other little moments of lightness in my weekday mornings.

Picture This

I read the news every day, partly to generate blog ideas and partly just because I like to keep up. I do buy papers but I tend to promiscuously read all of their websites on weekdays (Buy papers! Jobless journos and failing publications everywhere!) and they are very useful when it comes to getting up-to-the-minute news on current events. In an intriguing and macabre fashion, you could follow the hunt for Cumbria killer Derrick Bird last Wednesday, as the news sites kept a moment to moment account of any police information. Similarly political announcements, such as the first coalition press conference and today's speech on the budget deficit, are reported live online. I'm a bit of a comments freak (as you may be aware, I do read my own ;) and I tend to scroll down, particularly on opinion pieces, to see what people have to say. It's interesting as it provides an insight into a site's readership, general public opinion and the reasons people have for commenting at all. If it's a lighthearted article, the wit of the readers can add to or even surpass it, whereas on serious news stories you get the vitriol or the sympathy of the public and often the debate between them.

Recently, I have started to notice a real distaste for the way some of the more respected papers have published particularly grim stories on their websites. Not the words chosen, though - the pictures. Last week, the breaking news of shootings in Cumbria was accompanied by a picture of a concerned policeman radioing information while a blanket-covered body lay just visible in the background, behind crime scene tape. Immediately the comments began, demanding to know why Sky News were putting up a picture of a victim. It was distasteful, heartless and tacky, they cried. People seemed more distressed by the pictures than the unfolding events. People seemed to be saying they had opened a news page only to read and imagine the information, and that the visual evidence was a step too far.* As far as I remember, there have always been appalling images to accompany alarming news reports, from desperate businessmen jumping from the smouldering twin towers to the footage of teenager Neda Soltani dying in the street after being hit by a bullet during the Iranian protests last year.

Today's sad news that twin baby girls had been mauled by a fox that had managed to get into their house was met with dismay, not only because of the essential tragedy of the story, but due to The Times' leading picture of their mother's face, crumpled with devastation. I do think this picture, like the innocent victim's body, is uncomfortable to look at, but sometimes the world is an uncomfortable place. There were no pictures of the infants' injuries, obviously, and no tabloid-sensationalist description save a few clinical comments on the sites of the wounds (face, arms). The only visual they could go for was presumably a shot of the family house, the hospital they are being treated at, or the parents. As the story centred around the mother's comment on her daughters' condition and the incident itself, I don't think this was an invasion of her private grief - just a shocking image to summarise a shocking story. She obviously felt ready to express her worry and sadness to the press, and I find it hard to see how a visual confirmation of her quoted statement could offend. Perhaps I am oddly resilient; I didn't feel disgusted at Sky's use of the Cumbria photo - which was also used on either the Guardian or Times website, it's near impossible to find archived 'breaking news' - as I felt it summed up the serious nature of the case and was probably one of the first or only images from the scene. What were they supposed to have, a Sun-style 'this is what a gun looks like, folks' illustration? I remember first learning the word propaganda in high school history, and spending hours analysing the choice of pictures in home and foreign press in the past. A picture can hit you with the story much faster than the text, and it is an important part of the story in my opinion, far more than being simply decorative.

I would be interested to hear if you think a certain level of unpleasant image should be left out of the news. Maybe some people read the 'highbrow' publications to hear only very brisk, factual accounts of current affairs, and avoid the emotive nature of tabloid fare. Even if this were so, I fail to see what could be more factual and straight from the source than a photograph. What of the war, genocide, violence and natural disaster that happen all over the world? Maybe we wouldn't feel the full weight of the story or attempt to help in some way without being faced with the grim pictoral evidence. When I was working at a tabloid around the time of the Haiti earthquake, they filled a two-page spread with the image of a child's body being thrown on a pile of corpses as locals attempted to to clear the streets, along with a moving first-hand report of the devastation. This is probably one of the more horrific photos I've seen used, but I bet it stopped a few fatcats from wealthier countries in their tracks. When people die from drug abuse or drink driving, relatives sometimes have the strength to give a photo of their dying or dead loved one to the papers in the hope that it might make people think twice and prevent more needless deaths. I don't believe it's a sick voyeurism that puts these images online and in print, but the media's basic function as a transmitter of information. We are very lucky to have an uncensored press, and I for one don't think the desire of a few people to bury their heads in the sand during dark times is reason enough to remove the important aspect of photography from our news.



*Incidentally, if I search the original news stories I cannot find the image I am referring to - perhaps the voice of the people won in this case? There is a similar shot on the NY Daily News site as the of the shockwaves of the shootings continue to be reported.

Thin Skin

I came across this piece today about Mariella Frostrup's apology to the editors of Radio 4's Today programme for calling them misogynists. Another hot-headed woman, I thought briefly and unconsciously, before looking into the story behind her accusation (like you've never fleetingly cursed 'Bloody woman driver', girls!) Turns out Today editor Ceri Thomas had hinted in an interview that the reason there weren't more female presenters in his line of work is simply that men have the thicker skin and therefore the employable edge to deal with the pressures of the job. What he said was this, essentially that women should have a place on the BBC but probably not on the Today programme, as it's really scary and tough and they might cry. Now, I can see how this was very tactless, especially as he works in the media, but perhaps the exceptional thickness of his very manly skin has numbed any sensitivity to such matters.

Here's a surprise though: I agree with him a bit. Not with the 'all women', but with the 'why not as many women appear on confrontational current affairs shows' bit. I'm a woman, and as a very tiny percentage of the population (and a small percentage of the media-career-inclined) I can tell you with no hesitation that I'd be too fragile and emotional for that kind of full-on daily environment. Most women I know are not ambitious enough, or conversely they're smart enough, to avoid any job where they may end up in rehab, heart-attack territory or simply hiding in the toilets in tears. That isn't necessarily to say we have thinner skin, although I secretly agree with that too - of which more later.

Jennie Bond, who apart from the curious 'ie' choice of name spelling has the hardy air of an ex-Olympian about her anyway, dismissed Thomas's comments as "complete bollocks" (interestingly gendered choice of words there) and quite correctly stated:

"I reported extensively for the Today programme and presented it for three years. It's tough, it's hard and it's challenging but of coursewomen can present it."

The point, I feel, is not that they physically can, but that they aren't. Most of the gals are going for cushy daytime sofas and entertainment reporting because it's fun, full of perks and they are less likely to be depicted as a stone-cold harridan in the media. Who wants that sort of pressure that early in the day anyway? Men, in my humble experience, seem more inclined to go for such 'challenging' (read: often unbearable) positions - they are less likely than women to weigh up home and work life, personal and professional happiness, and health and success before taking a promotion or new job.

"Women have a different way of having a thick skin," said presenting veteran Joan Bakewell when asked her views by The Guardian. Bakewell was dubbed the original 'thinking man's crumpet' after daring to be both a talented journalist and a regulation hottie (it's a bit of a sexist industry, in case you're not up to speed.)

"It's amazing how you can get your own way without being confrontational. Women are good at analysing how to tell a story. Don't you get tired of all those clashes [on the Today programme]? Look at Prime Minister's Questions. I think it's probably intolerable for any woman to watch that without hating all politicians. Women are bad at it [shouting at the dispatch box] basically because they don't like doing it, and it isn't the only way to do things, it genuinely isn't."

I quote Bakewell so heavily here because, crumpet or not, it's the sanest viewpoint I've read on the subject so far. Not wildly defensive, a la Frostrup (even when retracting her misogynists comment, she mainly conceded that the Today editors were 'not demons') and not blithely in agreement either. She simply iterates that women have a different approach that is valuably used elsewhere; I think, for example, that women make better interviewers for print. I dislike Jeremy Paxman but can appreciate his battering-ram function in the media sphere. Sometimes 'thin skin' makes for wonderfully perceptive journalism. My very first work experience placement was on the late Richard and Judy show, which I loved - live and packed with crazy segments, debate and guests of all backgrounds, the reason it worked was the combination of Madeley's rhino-skin pushiness and Finnigan's more patient and paced interview style. From this and many other media encounters, I learnt the valuable difference between trying to be a man in a man's world and using your innate femininity to get that bit more out of a situation. Would a male interviewer have boldly gone far as Caitlin Moran in her recent sensational profile of Lady Gaga, or would he have sat opposite her, barking questions and jotting down notes on the size of her thighs while half-listening to her answers?

I fear we may have become so fixated on total gender equality that the facts of our (sometimes wonderful) differences must be hushed up. Men and women are different, not in terms of either being harder, better, faster or stronger, but in having different skills and strengths. Nearly all stem logically from primal instincts (compassion, aggression, patience) and although there are always individual exceptions, look around in any workplace and you will see a lot of male focus and drive at work alongside a lot of female negotiation and diplomacy.

I am always eager to be proved wrong though, so if you are a woman who is ferociously determined to get to the front line (of journalism, management, politics, Afghanistan) please do comment with your thoughts.

PMS

Relax, the initials I refer to are that which currently dominate our airwaves, screens and thoughts - Prime Minister Seduction. Well, it's about 50/50 Election and Volcanogate at the moment, but I am belatedly feeling a surge of democratic power after catching up with the weekend's media commentary on the campaigns, and watching the groundbreaking ITV party leaders' debates online. It's a thrilling thing be able to vote, and while the last election seemingly passed by without me noticing it, this year the public really seem to be getting involved.

The 18-20s particularly strike me as more vocal than I was in their position; perhaps it's the new surge of enthusiasm for the Lib Dems which appeal to them, or just the shaken-up feel of British politics that has seemed so stale and inevitable for years. Post-Expenses scandal, MPs are more apologetic and desperate for our support than ever. A lot of the high-faluting crap has been cut out as they begin to realise how jaded and savvy the public are about the spin and gloss of their campaigns. In my very first post on this blog, I wrote about the reactions to the Obama/McCain election and expressed a sadness that British politics are so much less passionate and patriotic. I just don't think it's our style though; as a nation we're unmoved by a soundbite and unconvinced that any party will bring large-scale change (quite rightly, really). Now I am impressed that things seem to be moving forward and becoming more focused here, with campaigns edging towards more info and less PR. I've grown to like the grey area in our system - I am not loyally 'Republican' or 'Democrat' but instead entitled to see what's on the menu and order as I see fit.

The TV debates have been the epicentre of this new approach - party leaders abandoned monotone voices, lengthy policy description and generalizations in favour of dramatic pauses and angry accusations, short'n'sharp outlining of aims and bizarrely specific anecdotes. I particularly enjoyed David Cameron's description of meeting a 40 year old black man who had moved to the UK aged six and served in the navy for 30 years. In fairness, neither of his rivals jumped to correct him after a spot of mental maths I imagine a six year old immigrant could do themselves. I did like the ferocity of approach, though - points had to be made quickly, sincerely and on the spot.

General consensus is that Nick 'Who?' Clegg came out on top after months of obscurity, but I wasn't that much more impressed with him. He had the best tone, body language and used the most accessible vocabulary, but I just wasn't feeling that musty yellow tie on him. Just joking - I felt he stumbled more than the other two over his answers, cleanly avoided the negatives surrounding tackling the econonmy, and kept reverting to the Lib Dem appeal as an alternative to 'Old Politics' (Did you know the Lib Dem party, founded in 1849, has been around 40 years longer than Labour?) A fresh face, yes, and definitely the one I'd shag if I had to choose, but he hasn't got my vote yet.

Poor old Gordy is the opposite of 'fresh face'; dowdy, practical and worn down, but I would always trust a leader (headmaster, boss, bank manager) who looks like the face of experience rather than the face of Creme de la Mer. In the blue corner, Cameron is almost oddly collagen smooth, with a sneery manner and just a hint of sleaze behind the good suit and family man image. If you're pro gay rights and equality, do make sure you watch the footage of his interview with Pink News, where he not only faltered over his policies and values but had the unmistakable glint of panic in his eye as his 'New Conservative' diversity-friendly image collided with the long-standing values of his party. I would also take a glance at the Don't Judge My Family campaign, countering the Tory plans to give straight, married couples a tax break. I have known married couples stay together far longer than they should, causing knock-on problems down the line with a sustained, unhappy family atmosphere. Equally, marriages can break up as a result of one person rather than both - should the abandoned party be left to pay more tax because they couldn't or wouldn't beg their partner to stay and make it work? Judging citizens based on their marital status is laughably backward - 'smug, Victorian finger-wagging', as Harriet Harman so eloquently put it. So the Tories are not scoring highly in my books, especially with Chris Grayling's (my local MP, oh the shame) recent comments on B&B guests.

I still haven't 100% decided where my vote is going, but I do feel sorry for the flack Labour gets. Whoever is in power will cause dissatisfaction and attract mockery after thirteen years at the helm, especially in the wake of recession depression and a (non party-specific) expenses scandal. In the TV debates, for me, Gordon made the shortest, neatest points, seemed the most honest - including addressing the tough stuff - and seemed to have his policies most firmly in his head, and not in his notes. That said, he also made cringey jokes and got suckered into Cameron's playground bickering. I liked that he picked up on Cameron's constant quest to avoid giving any kind of answer ('This isn't question time, David, this is answer time.') Dave just seems to think he can respond with 'Yes, I agree *carefully registered name*, we're in a real mess. But look at what Labour have done about it - NOTHING. I'm not going to promise we're going to do any better but... Look! Look at them! Gordon can't even smile properly!' The day I see him respond with something resembling a plan of action will be the day I consider him as a possible leader.

I'm interested in the Lib Dem's ideas, but need to hear more than 'We're different.' This isn't Lidl trying to compete with Sainsbury's and Tesco, if you're a real contender come out with your policies up. Equally I need to read more into Labour's plans and track record, but I will certainly be stepping out to vote come May 6th. I think the Lib Dems will get much of the youth vote, if only because they're not such a broken record. Anything that gets my generation voting is fine by me, but make sure you get all your info before heading in to that polling station. I would love to hear if anyone's developed any new political leanings this year, and why. Particularly any new young Tories, oxymoronic as that may seem to me.

The world's unsexiest boyband [Brown's just a step behind on the choreography]

Single woman + flat = cat?

Something very small and easy to brush off as bad journalism really irritated me on the ITV London news this morning. On one of their headline reports between GMTV segments, there was a short piece on how 'most women' enjoy having a cat as their companion. Infuriatingly, it was such a hit-and-run item that I can't even find it on their website. Perhaps they've realised how dazzlingly patronizing it was and removed it. The 'report' basically went like this:

Lots of women, as opposed to men, are cat owners. Some live alone and really enjoy the company. *Cue interview with a woman with two frighteningly muscley sphinx cats climbing menacingly over her armchair while she coos over them.* Short summary: lonely women like cats, they make good company.

Now, unable to find the clip, I feel like I hallucinated this around 8am. It was staggeringly badly researched and directed with no apparent factual anchor, and I felt quite offended. I am a real dog person. I've wanted a dog pretty much since the day my toddler mind grasped what a dog was, I often get more excited and sentimental over people's dogs than their babies and my absolute dream pet is a big, slobbery, loving, loyal canine. I just finished reading Marley and Me and embarrassingly wept no fewer than five times while reading it on packed trains and tubes (a great read - a story of man's realizations about family and life as well as some damn funny anecdotes about their behaviourally-challenged labrador.) I honestly think if I found Mr Perfect and he told me he wasn't a dog lover, it would be as wounding as finding out he was a BNP supporter or secretly waxed his chest. In other words, a deal breaker.

I feel I'm owed some sort of explanation from ITV about their surreal feline revelation - was it just to contribute to the film, TV and book myth that women unable to find a man end up shacking up with a cat just to have someone to talk to at the end of the day? I don't know many women who would describe themselves as a cat lover, and I myself think they are fickle and cruel animals with a cold, mercenary look in their eyes. Give me a giant, clumsy, boundy dog to curl up at my feet any day of the week. Dogs for men, cats for women? The strangest example of mass gender-based assumption I've seen for a while.

Ostensibly male Andrew Lloyd Webber told press in the build up to his new casting show Over the Rainbow that he'd rather cast a cat as Dorothy's Toto as he's not a dog person at all. You may be interested to know that other self-proclaimed cat lovers have included Freddie Mercury (who had several named Tom & Jerry, Delilah and Romeo), Andy Warhol and, ironically, Snoop Dogg. The Pope also has a cat called Chico - perhaps an homage to the latino X-Factor contestant?

Conversely, President Obama, Audrey Hepburn and Thandie Newton are all Team Canine. I feel I'm in good company here (we'll ignore Paris Hilton - her dogs barely qualify.) Let's just keep the divide to dog people and cat people and leave any mention of gender and sex (or lack thereof) out of it.


PS. Here are some of my dream dogs. In case anyone wants to gift me one...

Just playin'... pretty damn cute though!

Scientology? Non merci

Scientology: Pimp my Church

The French legal system proved today that they have the balls to take on the inexplicably popular institution of Scientology, and I must applaud their government for their healthy mistrust of the organization as its prominence has grown over the last few years. After a thorough investigation, six leading members of the Paris branch were today fined over £500,000 and given suspended sentences after being found guilty of organized fraud, following their harassment of potential members and extortion of money from vulnerable people.

While the 'Church' of Scientology has thrived Stateside (every time I read a reference to its founder as a science FICTION writer, I still snigger at the number of idiots taking it all as gospel), its spread in Europe has been met with a few more reservations - backwards and alien-based ideology aside, the main point where the Sci-bots tend to trip up is their unfortunate tendency to drain the life savings of their members. For the greater good, of course.

Many people in staunchly secular France want to ban Scientology outright, leading to heated discussion on whether such a thing is even possible. Legal representatives today said they could not impose a ban as the organization would continue with or without legal permission and would be harder to monitor - it is already officially considered a sect there, and authorities had been keeping a close eye well before two women sparked this case having complained about being swindled out of between twenty- and fifty-thousand Euros each. Two years ago Gloria Lopez's family accused Paris-based Scientologists of brainwashing and intimidating their mother into spending hundreds of thousands of Euros to support their teachings, leading to the deterioration of her mental health and her eventual suicide in December 2006. Lopez was typical Scientology prey - recently divorced, vulnerable, lonely and looking for direction.

It might be a good thing that celebrity mania has brought Scientology to the attention of the public - while they, unlike Gloria Lopez, have the money to fritter, we can all hear their ramblings for what they are: nonsense. Incredible, bizarre, alien-descending, silent-birthing, tax-dodging nonsense. So why do people jump on the bandwagon? You don't stand to gain much, unless you count sci-fi fairytales, but you do stand to lose money, often in the thousands. The celeb quotient might be a clue; while many ultra-famous actors lose perspective and turn to hard drugs or liquor, some have found the same rush in immersing themselves in an alternative or strict faith (Kabbalah was the milder precursor to Scientology in this way). I think drugs actually might be the lesser of the two evils, as while Ozzy, Amy and Lindsay may spend their golden years slightly muddled but glad they got over the phase, where does it end for Tom Cruise and Will Smith? They will just spend more, preach more and refuse to hug their injured children (yes, really) with no real pressure on them to let go of the madness. At least your average celeb junkie has rehab.

There is a lot of darkness behind the humour when it comes to Scientology. This conviction of organized fraud betrays the business behind the religion - wanting to spread your word is one thing, actively targeting the vulnerable and those with more money than sense is no laughing matter. There is also a sinister level of silencing power and intimidation to their spin department - famous for crushing serious accusations and jovial satire with their endless legal funds, they even scared the ballsy South Park creators into crediting only 'John and Jane Smith' for their Scientology episode. They have since meekly agreed not to re-run it in America and it was never aired in the UK.

This financial blow to the Parisian branch of Scientology may simply make its leaders more careful; I can only hope they slip up enough for some serious regulation to be enforced. I think the decision to let them continue practicing in France is the right one, but there should be more information out there, and more warnings about the debt and psychological pressure suffered by many members. As Nick Griffin's appearance on Question Time last week proves, sometimes giving such people a platform only exposes their motives and the shaky foundations of their beliefs.

Matters of life and death

In this month's ELLE (out today) is a really interesting arts piece that I helped to compile. It's called The Film That Changed My Life, and features 25 actors, writers, artists and directors describing the moment they saw a movie that opened their eyes to something, inspired them to get into a creative industry or simply became a lifelong favourite. It was really interesting requesting and gathering responses, and seeing what sort of films really affect people.

Some are art-house, some classics, some cult, and a few are pop culture hits that may not be cool, but they've stood out in people's minds. When we were putting it together, some of the ELLE editors were asked for their ideas, and it was actually much more of a thinker than you'd imagine. The thing our contributors found tricky was the 'changed my life' part - sometimes the films that we relate to the most are not favourites because they are profound or make any huge comment on life or relationships. Often they are just obscurely charming, brilliantly scripted or beautifully shot. Most of the responses we got (particularly from directors and film festival presidents) were cult films, groundbreaking or simply daring and quirky. I loved the honesty of those who just cited something more 'pop' that defined their youth, stood out in its mainstream genre, or that they could just watch over and over again. You'll have to buy the mag to see what I mean (it's a fab issue, Cheryl Cole's the cover star and it's a great interview.)

I had a think at the time about what my choice would be, but again, the life-changing criteria really stalled me. I don't know how many candidates from my DVD collection could really be considered revolutionary... Dirty Dancing, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Shakespeare in Love... (yes, I'm a total chick-flick whore.) But I thought of one after I read the feature in all its glory - and that is Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life. I have such a connection with this film, as I've been watching it since childhood - every year, once a year, on Christmas Eve. A 1940s classic endlessly parodied and referenced, it is the definitive feelgood film. While the premise may seem corny, it's certainly more charm than cheese, and moments are really harrowing as well as uplifting. It was filmed just before my dad was born, and it seems a delightful little opener to the beginning of my immediate family's existence, as we cosy up together every 24th December and laugh and weep at exactly the same moments. You come away with a fresher view on the world, and that can't be said of many cinematic moments.

'Life-changing' seems an excessive label to apply, but I am one of life's cynics (well, more 50% hard cynic 50% hopeless romantic - a tough combination) and I really need a narrative like this to remind me of what's good now and again.The story of how George Bailey, an American average Joe, touches and alters the lives of everyone in his small community is heart-rending and glorious. The humour keeps the schmaltz at bay, the many charming characters make you wish you lived in Bedford Falls, and the not-quite-perfect courtship of Donna Reed's Mary by James Stewart's awkward George is my absolute favourite on-screen romance. I just wanted to be Donna Reed in that film, she's luminous in black and white and just looks incredible (even when they try to make her look like a spinster librarian in George's alternate reality, she's pretty hot.) I think maybe it's not so much the life-changing function of cinema that's important, but a changing of perspective on life. The small-town hero of George Bailey proves that no matter how much of a failure you think you are, or how bad things seem, there is always a bigger picture. The people you love and who love you are what define you in the end, not how much you've travelled, how rich you are or if you've changed the world.

Speaking of how bad things can get, I must just mention a really sad news story - Matt Lucas's ex-husband Kevin McGee was found hanged the other day after months of depression and drug abuse. The real modern tragedy of the story was the morbid facebook status he wrote hours before his suicide - 'Kevin McGee thinks that death is much better than life' - which will certainly haunt his friends and family. But can a passing post on a social networking site be relied on as a cry for help? It seems more tragic than anything that his depression was made this public. The saddest part of the story in my view, however, is the Daily Mail's choice to use quote marks in their front-page headline today. I could be wrong, but "The Little Britain star's 'husband'" seems like a snide comment on their gay marriage stance, in the poorest possible taste. Although they divorced last summer, the pair's civil partnership lasted for nearly two years (one of the most high- profile gay marriages and the first gay celebrity divorce since civil ceremonies became legal in 2005) and as their friends and spokesmen have referred to it as a marriage, I think it's a bit of a cheap shot by the Mail to demean the relationship when reporting an untimely death. 'Ex-husband' or even 'Ex-partner' would have sufficed. They should leave the politics out of it, and recognise it as a personal bereavement which should be reported in a dignified way.

Pyjama Party

So, apparently, pyjamas are officially cool again. The fact that this made national news this morning makes me feel marginally better about the state of the world anyway, but I was delighted mainly because I LOVE PJs.

Lots of people love PJs, actually. Whitney reportedly spent seven months in hers - although perhaps this was less due to love of the garment than the influence of her crack haze. I'm not talking sexy, short-shorts and vest, La Senza seduction pyjamas here, I'm talking full on, floor length, flannel style, preferably with polka dots, clouds or cartoon animals. Nothing is cosier as we approach the autumn than getting home, donning the jammies and enjoying a nice cup of hot chocolate. I'm well aware that I sound like a pensioner, but if you ask around I'm sure you'll find that more than just a few cosy-PJ-lovers walk among us and are not ashamed to say it.

I remember after years of sitcoms and films where women draped themselves around the house in kimonos, negligees and virginal white nighties, watching Friends for the first time in the mid-nineties and seeing all of these young, hot New Yorkers clad in cosy pyjamas (remember Phoebe's onesie?), fluffy robes and their boyfriend's hoodies. It was fairly liberating even as a young teen to think that girls didn't have to be on the brink of a satiny dangerous liason whilst having a night in, and that giant, snuggly loungewear could be just a sexy in a much less clichéd way.

In slightly related news, one of my all-time favourite live-TV gaffes this morning on Breakfast as they attempted to stretch the pyjama revival into something resembling hard news - they invited the style editor of Men's Health (for the first and last time, I'll wager) to comment on the story. When struggling for poignant questions on the subject, the male presenter made the mistake of asking said editor if he recalled any men in movies or TV donning old-school pyjamas - making the point that it wasn't very 007 for blokes to be so cosy - and valiantly trying to prove him wrong, the Men's health guy paused and said 'Well there was that film recently, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas?' There was a brief, choked silence from which they moved on with admirable swiftness, but I was both tickled and shocked by his cultural example of pyjama chic. Not that shocked - Men's Health isn't exactly competing with The Economist or anything, but come on, we know a bit about The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, and that comparison is so, so wrong on so many levels.

Do comment with your favourite pyjamas, gaffes, or pyjama gaffes.