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Worthy.

Internet

Sometimes, seeing how somebody else approaches writing clarifies how you approach your own. Or, rather, how not to approach it.

Take the following piece of advice, given to one blog writer who very much took it to heart.1

“Knowing when to stop is not exactly the same as knowing what to start. Determining what’s worthy is harder than simply finding something interesting.”

Different advice helps different people, and that’s fine. But speaking personally: I can’t think of anything more dreadful than having to decide what is worthy for me to write about. If something is interesting, that’s more than enough. Why put barriers in your way before you even start?

The person who was given this advice even struggles with it to some extent:

“Years later, as I emerge from what does indeed feel like an extended dormancy, I’m still seeking clarity on what’s worthy. But what I do know: time to start, it is. These handful of words mark an official commitment to an unofficial restart of writing.”

And I feel bad for them. Because to me, thinking about what’s “worthy” when writing on your own personal site is a recipe for treading water, and publishing nothing. And guess what: that’s exactly what happened.

We love to put barriers in the way of writing. Sometimes we want our backend to be perfect first. Sometimes we worry too much about being helpful. And sometimes we question whether what we’re doing is important at all.

It’s all nonsense. If you think something is interesting, it’s worth writing about, judgements about whether it’s “worthy” or not be damned. It might go nowhere. It might go somewhere. Just occasionally, it might really go somewhere. But the absolute worst thing that could happen?

You’ll have put something interesting into the world.


  1. I’m not linking to the source for this, deliberately. But you can easily find it yourself, if you know how to use Google and quote marks. 

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Dirty Feed: Best of 2021

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201520162017201820192020 • 2021 • 20222023

“Hi there, John. Well, 2021 was pretty damn awful.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“What? Come on, a global pandemi-“
“Yes, yes, yes, but I’ve posted loads of great stuff on Dirty Feed this year.”
“Dirty F… really? You’re going with this?”
“Let’s have a look at all the brilliant things I’ve written over the last 12 months.”
“Let’s not.”
“Tough shit.”

*   *   *

I’m afraid you will have to forgive a rather more indulgent format than usual for my roundup this year. I’ve done so much writing on the site – almost as much as 2019 and 2020 combined – that there’s plenty I really want to relink to. (If you just want the short version, the images link to various interesting things.)

January was meant to be a quiet month for the site, as I intended to take a bit of a break. Instead, I published one of the most popular things I’ve ever written: a look at what exactly is on the telly in an episode of The Young Ones. This pretty much set the tone for the kind of thing I ended up doing all year: investigating obscure mysteries about sitcoms. For instance: we also found out what Vyvyan really wanted to say about Thatcher.

TV prop in The Young Ones
Smith & Jones DVD menu


February saw me looking into the history of an obscure piece of Grant Naylor material, in a post which pretty much defines the phrase “satisfying ending”. This was followed up by an investigation into Grant Naylor radio sitcom Wally Who?, and how obvious facts can easily become lost.1 Finally, I took a proper look at the pilot of Yes Minister, and how an assumption I’d had for years turned out to be complete bollocks.

March was the beginning of a series of articles looking at stock footage in Hi-de-Hi!. This turned out to be a lot harder than I thought it’d be, and these pieces are somewhat annoyingly incomplete. I’ll hopefully get a chance to improve on them next year. There was also this speculation about Drop the Dead Donkey which I have precisely no proof of whatsoever, but I firmly believe to be 100% true.

The Young Ones opening titles
Bernard in Yes, Prime Minister


April saw the big one. My investigation into the authorship of one of Yes, Prime Minister‘s most well-known routines blew up in a quite ridiculous fashion, and got the site noticed well beyond its usual readership. Thank you, Popbitch. Thus it’s all the more irritating that it has to be one of the articles here which I’m least happy with. In its originally published form, it entirely missed the actual authorship of the joke, despite the fact that the real information was actually public knowledge, if you hung around on the right corner of the internet. The true story only came with the updates after publication. Oh well, what would life be, if it wasn’t utterly infuriating?

On a smaller note, but for me personally more satisfying than either the Hi-de-Hi! or Yes, Prime Minister stuff, was this piece identifying a mysterious piece of Red Dwarf footage. Some people find a mystery exciting; I think finding the actual truth is even more so.

May was my 40th birthday, so I couldn’t resist writing something rather more personal than usual. We also spent another day with The Young Ones in the studio, which is an object lesson in the dangers of hiding the most interesting thing in an article near the end. But my favourite thing this month was proving everybody wrong about when Series 1 of The Brittas Empire was shown. I love writing about The Brittas Empire. I love proving everybody wrong more.

BBC1 evening menu, 1991
Alf Stokes as a cowboy in You Rang M'Lord


June had two of my very favourite pieces I published all year. Firstly, there was this look at reshoots and pick-up weeks in early Red Dwarf, which puts a brand new spin on one of the most famous sequences in the whole show. Then, I investigated this extended version of the You Rang, M’Lord? pilot, which – to my knowledge – hasn’t been transmitted since 1988. Both these pieces are pretty much a mission statement for what I want the site to be.

July saw Dirty Feed’s first dive into A Bit of Fry & Laurie, with another exciting TX date discrepancy. There was also a look at a particularly noteworthy topical reference in The Young Ones. But my favourite piece – possibly my favourite thing I wrote all year, in fact – was a look into how the studios at BBC Manchester can be seen in early Red Dwarf. That piece is everything I’d like my writing to be, and don’t always manage to get there.

Staircase at BBC Manchester used in Red Dwarf
Stephen Fry & Hugh Laurie


August had a look at deleted scenes in A Bit of Fry & Laurie, before we came to the main event: an examination of the recording dates for every single sketch in Series 1. That’s one of those articles which takes an absolute bloody age to write, and is so niche even by the standards of this site that not many people end up reading it. Oh well. It’s worth it just for the incredibly interesting revelation about which sketch in Series 1 was actually shot for the 1987 pilot.

September saw an article I’d been planning to write for literally years finally see the light of day: about a literally unbelievable claim about the viewing figures of Danger Mouse. No, I have nothing better to do than prove people’s childhood heroes INCORRECT. There was also the start of an obsession with One Foot in the Grave production minutiae, which ended up being some of the most popular things I wrote all year.

Danger Mouse and Penfold
Dicky & Dino in The Young Ones


October turned out to be a ludicrously busy month. Firstly, we had Men Behaving Badly and the cut Diana joke. Then, there was possibly the most ridiculous thing about Red Dwarf ever written… well, at least, until next month. There was also the start of an analysis between the broadcast and DVD versions of The Thin Blue Line, which is mainly notable for me finally figuring out how how to edit video. (Which might come in useful next year.)

But my favourite thing all month was this poke at a oft-repeated anecdote about The Young Ones. This was something else I’d been meaning to write for ages, and finally got round to. This is one of those rare pieces where I think I might have actually scraped together some kind of real truth about a show that nobody has quite articulated before. Or maybe it’s just an excuse for a clip of a singing tomato.

November was a particularly stupid month, where I got confused and thought this site was Ganymede & Titan. Out of the four Red Dwarf pieces published this month, I finally managed to write two that I’d been banging on about on Twitter for ages: how more of the sets from Series 1 managed to last rather longer than you might think.

Rimmer from Red Dwarf
Victor Meldrew in You've Been Framed trail


December saw me determined to stop the site becoming a Red Dwarf fansite… by, erm, becoming a One Foot in the Grave fansite instead. First of all we looked at how the show faked a section of ITV output, and then I investigated all of David Renwick’s cameos in the show. Finally, the site reached a violent, bloody climax at the end of the year. Lovely.

*   *   *

Phew. So for a year where I intended to take a bit of a break and do other things, I ended up not only publishing more on the site than ever before, but also having a significantly bigger audience than any previous year too. In fact, the site had double the number of visitors than 2020, a fact I still find faintly extraordinary.

Double the visitors requires the double the gratitude. So thank you all so much for your likes, retweets, comments, or just quietly reading the site this year. I really do appreciate it so much. The comments section on the site has been particularly active and insightful, and has corrected and improved much of what I’ve written throughout the last 12 months.

As for this site in 2022… I’m in something of a bind. Every single time I say I’m going to do something specific on this site, I do nothing. And every time I say I’m going to do nothing and take a break, I end up writing shitloads. It is beginning to get faintly ridiculous.2 My brain absolutely refuses to follow any kind of plan for this site whatsoever. In fact, it actively rebels against it.

So in 2022, I can only give you one promise: that something might or might not happen on this site at some point during the year. So you can look forward or not look forward to that at your leisure.

And you can’t say fairer than that, can you?


  1. And still not found, incidentally. If anybody has any ideas… 

  2. Still waiting for the Buffy fansites article I promised at the start of 2016? Me too. 

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Another Very Important Article Examining the Contents of Victor Meldrew’s Kitchen Cabinets

TV Comedy

To write one article about One Foot in the Grave recording dates which hinges on the items in the Meldrews’ kitchen cabinets may be regarded as a misfortune. To write two looks like carelessness.

Oh well, here we go again.

Let’s take a look at “The Broken Reflection” (TX: 16/2/92). That’s the one where Victor’s brother Alfred shows up, and David Renwick decides to break our goddamn hearts… again. Alfred Meldrew is played brilliantly by Richard Pearson, and in Richard Webber’s excellent book The Complete One Foot in the Grave, the following rather alarming anecdote about the recording is told:

“For eagle-eyed viewers, the sudden appearance of a small bandage on one of Pearson’s fingers in the scene where he was opening a parcel on the Meldrews’ kitchen table was the result of an earlier accident. During the recording, Pearson used a knife to open the package. ‘It was too sharp, which was a little naughty because all knives are supposed to be blunt on set,’ admits Susan Belbin. Pearson sliced his finger and the extent of the bleeding left the director no alternative but to stop the recording. ‘I had to get him to hospital, so we left the rest of his scenes that night because he needed stitches.’ He returned the following week and completed his scenes, hence the bandage. ‘He was so good about it and I felt sorry for him. It was a bad cut.'”

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The Life and Times of Derek Pangloss

TV Comedy

Right, you can take your Alfred Hitchcock and Stan Lee cameos, and stick them right up your arse. We only do the important ones around here. So did you know that David Renwick appeared in One Foot in the Grave not once, not twice, but a total of seven times?

Let’s take a look. You may know one or two of these. You might even know all the ones listed on IMDB. But I believe that two of them are previously entirely unpublished. Including our very first example.

Series 2, Episode 4: Who Will Buy?

TX: 25th October 1990

Renwick’s first cameo in the series is an odd one. Indeed, you can barely hear him at all. The production paperwork confirms that the TV playing Poirot at the beginning of the show isn’t an actual clip from Poirot, but is… Angus Deayton and David Renwick.

This is a double in-joke, as at the time this episode aired, Renwick was a writer on Poirot, credited on four adaptations: “The Lost Mine” (TX: 21/1/90), “The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim” (TX: 4/2/90), “Wasps’ Nest” (27/1/91), and “The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor” (3/2/91). And once you know that, “Who Will Buy?” becomes even more intertextual than usual for One Foot in the Grave.

Starting off gently… until you’re suddenly watching a scene between Owen Brennan and Janine Duvitski with the actual Poirot theme playing in the background.

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A Brief Investigation into Recording Dates for So Haunt Me

TV Comedy

As we come to the end of the year, it’s a time for reflection, and pondering exactly what you have achieved with your life. It’s a shame, then, that this is exactly the moment that I find myself digging through the paperwork for 90s BBC1 sitcom So Haunt Me. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened.

Still, as I was idly flicking my way through, something caught my eye. Series 1 of the show was broadcast between February and March of 1992. The location material was shot between 12th – 16th January of that year. And when were the studio dates for each episode?

Episode RX TX
1.1 1/2/92 23/2/92
1.2 8/2/92 1/3/92
1.3 15/2/92 8/3/92
1.4 22/2/92 15/3/92
1.5 29/2/92 22/3/92
1.6 7/3/92 29/3/92

Although the series only started transmitting at the tail end of February 1992, every last shred of material in the series was shot that same year. Even the location stuff. Moreover, studio sessions for the series only started three weeks before transmission of the first episode. When the first episode was broadcast, they still had the last two episodes of the series left to shoot.

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“This Saturday Night on ITV!”

TV Comedy

VICTOR: You know what I’m like with weddings. It was bad enough at your nephew’s last year when that organ exploded.
MARGARET: Don’t remind me.
VICTOR: Then there was the father of the bride coming down with that unfortunate fungal infection. Your mother turned round and thought it was the Phantom of the Opera. Thought we’d never going to get her to stop screaming. God, that bloody video cameraman they hired. Got us to pose under a tree, and a bird’s nest fell on my head. Stood there like Jesus of Nazareth. Egg yolk dribbling down my nose.

Sometimes, making a TV show will pose a very particular production problem, which will take some creative thinking to solve.

Take the ending of the One Foot in the Grave episode “Monday Morning Will Be Fine”, broadcast on the 2nd February 1992. The brilliant payoff to the above discussion between Victor and Margaret is that we think it’s Renwick writing one of those gags which happen off-screen, and it’s funny because it’s merely reported. He then brings back the gag as the climax of the episode, entirely unexpectedly. My expectations were confounded and from thence the humour arose.

And the way he brings the gag back is through a trail for You’ve Been Framed!, which Margaret just happens to see in the TV shop as she’s ordering their new telly.

The question, then: how can a TV show broadcast on the BBC fake a section of ITV output, while using the bare minimum of material from ITV itself?

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On Not Writing.

Internet

Let me quote excerpts of somebody’s blog to you. I’m not going to link to it, for reasons which will very quickly become obvious.

Its very first post is on the 20th May 2012, “Redesign notes and switching to Octopress”:

“When I set out to redesign this site and start blogging, I knew I wanted it to be a static HTML generated weblog (also commonly known as “baked”). Coming from WordPress, this publishing workflow is a dream.

Content, which is just static HTML, is created in Markdown in a text editor, saved into version control (Git) and pushed to GitHub to deploy. This means no database (MySQL) — a potential security nightmare and single point of failure, no page caching (goodbye WP Super Cache and W3 Total Cache), no FTP and super fast page loads – all good things.

I evaluated some great systems including Octopress, Middleman, Nesta CMS and I’m keeping a close eye on Calypso (built on Node.js and MongoDB), but in the end I opted for Octopress as it fitted my needs. I’m still ironing out a few kinks with Octopress, but overall I’m very pleased with how its worked out.”

Their next post is on the following day, the 21st May 2012. It’s called “My 2012 front-end web development workflow”:

“So far 2012 has been a big year for me in progressing my front-end web development skills, tools and process. I’ve also been busy learning new languages and frameworks and getting up to speed on the latest advancements.”

Excellent work.

Their next post is over three years later, on the 25th October 2015. This one is called “Site Design Refresh and Blog Reboot”:

“A lot’s happened since my last blog post three years ago in May 2012, which partly explains the lack of updates.1

[…]

Process has been another factor towards my lack of writing. I love using static site generators like Jekyll and Middleman for prototyping, but as blogging platforms they don’t work for me. There’s too many steps between writing and publishing – opening a terminal, running rake commands to generate a post, editing markdown files, committing to git, and running rake build/deploy tasks. This gets in the way when all you want to do is write, and creates friction when trying to create posts on mobile devices whilst travelling (although there’s tools like Prose.io).

I’ve been tempted to reduce my site to a single page calling card and move my writing to Medium, but that goes against the Indie Web principle of POSSE (Publish on your Own Site, Syndicate Elsewhere). With a personal website you retain control and ownership of your content. But there’s no denying that Medium has raised the bar in terms of the writing experience on the web. I’m currently in the process of rebuilding the back-end of this site in Ruby on Rails, and I’m planning to use Made by Many’s excellent Sir Trevor content editor (see the demo) for a great writing experience. This will inspire me to write more.”

The post then concludes:

“I’m excited about my own little space on the internet for the first time in years and have lots of blog post ideas that I can’t wait to share.

Next time I won’t leave it three years…”

This is the last post on their blog, at the time of writing. Over six years ago.

And in that one post, there is a triple-whammy of all my favourite things. An excuse for not writing. An announcement of a new blog design.2 And a promise of loads of posts to come, which never happen. Most people only manage two of those things in any given blog entry, so that’s quite an impressive achievement.

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  1. The writer here then goes into exactly what they have done for the last three years, which is, in fact, genuinely more exciting than anything I have done in my entire life. 

  2. Backend, but it counts. 

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“Tell Me More About These Buttons: Are Some Illuminated?”

TV Comedy

HOLLY: Emergency. Emergency. There’s an emergency going on.
LISTER: What is it, Hol?
HOLLY: There’s an emergency, Dave. The navicomp’s overheating, and I need your help in the drive room.
RIMMER: Oooh-ooh-ooh!
LISTER: Come in number 169, your time is up. OK, what was I wearing?
RIMMER: Ahhh… that jacket, and that red T-shirt.

Lister pulls out his hat and places it back on his head, then yanks a hefty length of piping off the wall.

LISTER: You said yourself, I can’t stop it. Let’s get it over with.
RIMMER: (Pointing at the pipe) Ah, Lister, what’s that for?
LISTER: I’m going out like I came in – screaming and kicking.
RIMMER: You can’t whack Death on the head!
LISTER: If he comes near me I’m gonna rip his nipples off.

Poor old David Lister. “Future Echoes” (RX: 17-18/10/87) is a particularly unpleasant business for him. But as he plugs in the drive computer into the navicomp and faces down Death – with or without nipples – he can at least be sure that he’s starting off a chain of events which makes a sad old Red Dwarf fan very happy.

Let’s back up a bit. Last time we looked at the wonderful word of Red Dwarf props and sets, we managed to trace a couple of EXCITING PANELS from Series 1 in 1987, right through to Series VII in 1996. Frankly, this was a bit too exciting, and I had to have a lie down for a bit.

But when I recovered, I was left sweaty and dissatisfied. To trace part of a set through nearly the entirety of the BBC years, but missing out Series VIII, was absolutely infuriating. Surely there must be something which made the trip through the whole eight series?

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“What about Other Optical Effects like Split-Screen, Slow Motion, Quantel?”

TV Comedy

The other day, I was browsing some paperwork for the Red Dwarf episode “White Hole” (TX: 7/3/91) , as you do. And something interesting caught my eye.

“This programme was recorded on Composite Betacam SP videotape.
Original tape numbers: 83 – 101 (with tape no: 90 being the master insert audience tape). Tape No: 124 + 126 additional graphics tapes.
Tape no: CV37898 (Mirage FX tape).”

Mirage FX tape? What’s that?

I know that some of you are already screaming at me. I have to admit, I am far from an expert on this kind of thing. I do, however, know enough to throw a few search terms into Google. I think we can trust Wikipedia with the basics, at least.

“The Quantel Mirage, or DVM8000/1 “Digital Video Manipulator”, was a digital real-time video effects processor introduced by Quantel in 1982. It was capable of warping a live video stream by texture mapping it onto an arbitrary three-dimensional shape, around which the viewer could freely rotate or zoom in real-time. It could also interpolate, or morph, between two different shapes. It was considered the first real-time 3D video effects processor.”

I also know that sometimes, the best way to get a grip on the capabilities of things like this is to search for demonstration videos on YouTube. In 2021, we’re in a far better situation than we were even a decade ago with this stuff: so much reference material has been uploaded by some extremely helpful people.

I was not disappointed.

And at 1:38 into that video… oh, that’s the bit they used in “White Hole”. Does that explosion effect remind you of anything?

Yes, when Holly is going through the intelligence compression procedure:

Or to be more specific:

Explosion effect in Mirage demonstration video
Same explosion effect in Red Dwarf, White Hole, for Holly's IQ transformation


At this point, my mind was blown in much the same way as Holly’s. But there’s more. How about this segment from Tomorrow’s World (TX: 30/12/82)1, for instance?

What happens at 2:49? Well, see if you can guess. Clearly, exploding the image was a signature effect of the Mirage.

And that’s what I really love about this. In 1990, when “White Hole” was made, the Quantel Mirage was already eight years old. The year before, when Series III was made, Red Dwarf had already made use of Harry, a later, more advanced bit of kit from Quantel. If it’s overstating things to say that the Mirage was old by this point, it most definitely wasn’t new, groundbreaking kit.

Red Dwarf makes the effect look great, though. Far better than either the example in the demonstration video, or in Tomorrow’s World. And it’s better because the effect works perfectly to tell the story. Holly is being dismantled to her very essence in order to increase her IQ; her visage being blown to smithereens and then put back together is a brilliant way to portray this.

A standard Quantel effect, turned into story. That’s some of yer actual, real television magic.

UPDATE (14/12/21): Some days, silly things I write lead to the most wonderful revelations. Here’s a remarkable piece of information on this effect, from the creator themselves:

I think I just need Dirty Feed to be a big list of bullet points stating topics I’m interested in, and then people who are actually clever can fill in the rest.


  1. The YouTube upload itself only said “1982”, so I thought I’d research the full date for you. Don’t ask me why the video is cropped to widescreen either, despite being uploaded by the BBC. I haven’t a clue. 

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Sorry, I Was Looking at the Wrong Panel

TV Comedy

It’s odd, the stuff you just make up in your head about a TV programme, without any actual evidence. Even a programme you’re supposed to know plenty about.

Take Series III of Red Dwarf. Out goes Paul Montague as Production Designer, and in comes Mel Bibby. The look of the show changes almost completely, the grey submarine aesthetic replaced by cream, Alien-inspired sets. At first glance, the show could barely look much different.

Series 2 bunkroom

Series 2 bunkroom

Series III bunkroom

Series III bunkroom

And so, over the years, your mind runs away with itself. You imagine Mel Bibby getting a massive skip, chucking every single last shred of the old sets into it, and starting from scratch. After all, not only do the sets look entirely different, but it’s on record that the show’s new producers – a certain Rob Grant and Doug Naylor – hated the old sets.

Nobody’s ever actually said that no part of the old sets remained in the new look. But clearly they didn’t, right? The new regime would want nothing to do with them.

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