The trouble is...

Her
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you

Him
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Cant make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you

Listening to Christmas music today, I noticed that little bit of Fairytale of New York. Them's nice words.

It's a song. Like all the nice words. I wonder if Harry Nilsson ever reckoned he couldn't live without his lover? Did Anna Kournikova need Enrique to be her hero? And did the singer from Air Supply ever actually lie with his head on the phone? It's all very nice the whole idea that songs are actually written to someone, but they're not, they're written to sell singles. The two that spring to mind that are written for someone, the Lady in Drag, sorry, Red, and Wonderful Tonight are both "neh neh, she's mine, look at me publicly telling her she's braw" which isn't all that romantic. Romantic is "you" not "she".

See, with the exception of Enrique there, those songs are rather old. Back in that time when I was forming tastes and what not. Specifically, it would seem, my taste in men.

And that's when I was bombarded with images. Bond. Bond. Bond. Milk Tray Man. The Saint. Hello girls, this what a real man does. What do you mean he can't ski down hillsides? How's he going to deliver your rather boring chocolates? Other stuff I can't remember has left me with the lasting impression that real men can ski down any incline, can waterski, can jump from one moving vehicle to another, have a pun for all occasions and always get the last word. Oh yes. Charming, naturally. Devastatingly handsome. And complete shits. Each and every one of them. Not a decent bone in their body. Which forms the lasting opinion: bad men are attractive.

No they're not! They're rubbish! The real ones can't even ski! Or own a Jaguar!

Take Daniel Craig. Not particularly attractive, he's been in a few films and nothing registered. Then he was Bond. Hello! Why Mr Craig, you are suddenly the most attractive man on the planet. And look, he really fell in love, it's possible, you Can Change the Man. There is hope for all of us. Oh, that's a bit mushy now, that's not so attractive, no, maybe not... oh look, Angry Bond's back. Mmmmm.

Watching Survivors, which is rather good, the character played by Max Beesley is immensely fanciable. He's not very nice. He's a bit unhinged and ever so angry. Yummy.

Why? Why do they do this to us? Little girls should see only Disney, where the men are complete saps, but goodly and nice. Then we'd all fancy sappy men with strong jaws and propensity to burst into song, perish the thought. Because you see, girlies really want to be princesses. To be cherished. To have a pedestal to perch prettily on.

Anyone disagreeing with that princess thing by the way, I give you: weddings. The bride. The frock. The tiara. The bridesmaids, the carriage, the wank and circumstance: princess envy.

But it's impossible* to fancy someone nice and goodly and all that. It's just not attractive. Bad boys don't cherish; nice boys don't ski. Or something like that.

Damn you Mr Bond, damn you.

Luckily for me, bad men don't even realise I exist, so I got a grumpy one instead. It's near enough.

*surmountable in presence of other factors, which are a secret.

Masterful men of magic and spying

Well, I watched the third installment of Merlin last night and I absolutely loved it. I assume that after the first scene-setting episode they will now continue to follow the format of a stand alone story of bad sorcery that Merlin has to defeat before the end of the episode.

Why did I love this episode? Because I am a girl, and because all the men, even dweeby Arthur, were really masterful and manly. Rrrrr. Also, the characters were all fleshed out a bit more in this episode, particularly Guinevere and Morgana. Colin Morgan does work really well as Merlin, he plays the clever but confused bit well. Particularly notable for his "I will not let this happen" swooshery.

I didn't watch anything else. I've got the following to watch sometime before I forget:

Little Britain USA. Pretty much know what you're going to get here...

Griff Rhys Jones, Losing It, Part 2. I loved the first part of this, because Griff is so very likeable and funny, and it was good watching him lose his temper and talk about it. I'm not so keen to see the second part, because it is about touchy feely making him better guff. But he is marvellous and will presumably carry the show as well as demonstrate suitable skepticism for the touchy feely stuff, so I will watch it and probably enjoy.

Where's Spooks? I need Spooks, even if they do seem set to write out the very lovely Rupert Penry Jones, but compensating by introducing the very lovely Richard Armitage.

Upon searching for the answer to this pressing question (which will undoubtedly be revealed on the cover of the Radio Times, I need only to exercise patience, it will happen sometime) I found all sorts of trailers for Quantum of Solace. This, I am excited about. I've always been a fan of Bond (obviously) but found Pierce Brosnan wet, unconvincing and generally rubbish. Timothy Dalton was fabulous, he was my favourite pre-Craig Bond and I loved the Living Daylights. I can't remember which of the Brosnan ones I liked and didn't like, I know I hated Goldeneye and liked Tomorrow Never Dies, but I can't remember which one of the other two was good and which was unwatchable drivel. Anyway, I LOVED Casino Royale, Daniel Craig is magnificent as Bond (and, shockingly, can actually act) and the film was mostly superb. Except for the whole emotional in love Bond thing, that was too long and tedious and could have done with being trimmed. The Quantum of Solace has Angry Bond, which should be quite a thing to watch.

31st October apparently. Woo.