Nobody's Weakling Scum

Confession time: when I was 15 I had the hots for Simon Gipps-Kent. Er, yes, head cheese of the weakling scum. Mr. pasty-face himself. My adolescent tastes were always a little off-beat (Meeno Peluce from Voyagers or the despised brainiac from Galactica 1980 -- no not Cousin Oliver, the other one--who actually looks great now at 42).

You see, Gipps-Kent represented that quiet boy in the back of the class that the C-crowd girls always had a crush on. Of course secretly I was one of their number (the C-crowd girls that is). He would be the sort of bloke I would fantasize about having a sleepover with where we would stay up all night and talk about geeky things and then I'd turn up the thermostat to coax him out of his pajama bottoms. Then we'd wake up early and watch Battle of the Planets over a bowl of Count Chocula.

And so I would wear out the rewind button on the Betamax to rewatch his scenes over and over again. Considering a good many of his scenes were with Lalla Ward, I didn't know whether I was coming or going. Yes, yes, being a teenager is one screwed up existence, yadda, yadda pass the Chocula.

Sadly Simon Gipps-Kent died of a morphine overdose in 1987. His last role was as Rudkin the messenger in the un-aired pilot for the original Blackadder series. Of course where I was originally a 15 year old ogling a 21 one year old who looked 15, I'm now a 42 year old who looks 35 shaking my head at a perfectly preserved ghost.

Television messes with your mind that way. Seventeenth century denizens simply didn't have to contend with this. Everyone around them sagged and got liver spots and with the possible exception of rich people having paintings of themselves that were idealized in the first place, people only had their dubious memories to rely on.

But there he is, forever stuck at 21 going on 16 for me to return to, rewatch after rewatch. My tastes have changed drastically, but it gives me some small insight into those strange middle aged women who still fawn over Davy Jones or New Kids on the Block. Somewhere between the haze of memory and the cold hard light of television lies...Simon Gipps-Kent.

********

Watching The Horns of Nimon is always a bittersweet experience. Unlike many fans I love it in all its campy, cheap goodness. Romana gets to play the Doctor-y role and she presides like queen bee over a pantomime proceedings. Her moral outrage is classic Doctor. Graham Crowden is horridly over-the-top so you do have to squint a little when watching his scenes (or put some cheesecloth over the screen).

But no, what really grabs at my heartstrings is the final appearance of the diamond logo opening and classic arrangement of the title music. Despite how campy and light the series had become, that opening still gave it gravitas and history (right back to season 11 and Jon Pertwee). Of course at 15, what was to come the following week was unbelievably exciting (more on that next time), but as the years go by I am struck by the sense of loss. After all it was that classic opening that first drew my attention to the show.

Bernard Lodge's slit-scan technique is brilliant. So much so that I was rapt watching him explain it on a recent DVD featurette. Farewell, diamond logo opening, I shall miss you. Yes, I shall miss you.

Original viewing date: November 17, 1984

Wine: Dancing Bull Zinfandel! How brilliant is that.

Music: "Infatuation" by Rod Stewart. I have fond memories of watching the video at the time with a friend, as we pissed ourselves laughing. Rod Stewart stalking Key Lenz (while overfeeding his fish), but obviously more obsessed with his own body. And that ridiculous scene of him on the merry-go-round at the end looking petulant and rejected. The past is truly an embarrassing place.