The US talkshow host monologue about the latest atrocity has become an accepted genre in modern media, traditionally praised for going viral and being passionate, unscripted, straight from the heart.
James Corden is doing his US TV chatshow in London this week and his introductory piece to camera, talking about the terrorist outrages here, was like this, but calm and measured. Actually, it was the perfect response. Corden’s erstwhile rather big-headed reputation did once turn me off a bit. But the glorious magic of his Carpool Karaoke encounter with Michelle Obama was a genuinely great moment in the history of television: spontaneous, lovable and fun.
Everyone talks about Corden’s triumphs: Gavin and Stacey; One Man, Two Guvnors on stage. But there’s something else I treasure, which everyone else seems to overlook: his tremendous performance in Mike Leigh’s 2002 film All or Nothing, playing Rory, the son of the unhappy minicab driver Phil, portrayed by Timothy Spall. Rory’s behaviour and relationship with his dad bring them both to a terrible crisis. Nowadays, Corden is a more svelte figure and his acting career has taken him in new directions. Can he maybe interview Leigh on the programme?
The taste of Château Tesco
People are always mocking the high-flown language of wine buffs. Now researchers from the University of Adelaide have discovered that actually putting all the absurd adjectives on the label makes the wine taste better.
Test subjects reported having a more pleasurable oenophile experience when they could read all about the flinty mineral top notes. Of course, this may not be simply a parable of vanity, and why can’t the pleasures of arcane language mesh with those of wine? But I’m surprised no TV show has tried to reproduce author Stephen Potter’s classic winemanship label ploy to disconcert experts.
You don’t try to pass off cheap rubbish as something good. Not at all. You go out and get something absolutely superb for a hundred quid. Then you secretly decant it into an empty Tesco plonk bottle. You serve it to your wine-expert mates with a rueful, self-deprecatory shrug, saying: “I’m so sorry I can only offer you this rubbish.” Then you watch them taste the wine and stare at the label in shock as their world comes silently crashing down.
Stick to golf, Donald Jr
I have tried drawing up the worst five moments in the history of the special relationship. In roughly descending order, they are:
1. The United States’ declaration of independence, 1776.
2. President James Madison’s declaration of war on Britain over the naval blockade of Napoleonic France, 1812.
3. The US ordering Britain out of Suez, by putting pressure on the pound and refusing dollar loans for oil, 1956.
4. Britain refusing to send troops to Vietnam, 1964.
5. The US invading Grenada, without quite getting round to consulting its head of state, ie Her Majesty the Queen, 1983.
Of course, the relationship has survived all this but the list will have to be revised to include a new, uniquely horrible moment: the sheer indignity of President Trump’s son, Donald Trump Jr, weighing in this week to back up his dad’s insults to London mayor Sadiq Khan. He brayed on Good Morning America: “Maybe he [Khan] should do something to fix the problem rather than just sit there and pretend there isn’t one.” This shrill intervention easily knocks out Grenada. Isn’t there a golf course that needs Trump Jr’s attention?
