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Nov 03, 2005

Never-mind the Warlocks

Heggerty_1Like a cross between Charmed and The Good Life with a whiff of strong bronchial cough syrup your grannie would produce from behind a thick layer of cobwebs here comes the bastard still-born child of the mother-ship programme. All this mysticism is a little miss placed. Who in their right minds would prance naked, or clothed in spooky masks, or even anointed in bats urine, just to give praise and sacrifice to a dark lord called Heggerty? Just imagine if Jesus had been called Wayne instead. And the three wise men brought gifs of gold, Frankfurters and Burberry. It doesn't really work, does it? You'd just feel a prick worshiping the holy bling of a weekend. And yet here they are. These backward country folk a-mincing and a-prancing. They even, for some inexplicable reason, have a picture of Max from Hart to Hart in a badly fitting wig. This is going to be murder...

It's quite refreshing to see cigarettes in a kids show, as Aunt Lavinia takes a drag on a fag and we get a little back story. She's expecting Brendan, her ward, to arrive shortly. His Robin to her Batman. Then there's some tedium about market gardens and a Mini Metro that sounds like its exhaust has gone. Par for the course really.

Black Magic

Tracey_1Things take a surreal turn as we find out that all this action is taking place inside A-ha front warbler and gap-toothed Scandinavian sex pot, Morton Harket. Colin Jeavons puts in an appearance accompanied by some pure evil music. He must be a bad'un. He appears to be from the same family as the Thunderbird Tracey brothers if his acting is anything to go by. Him and his dopey son aren't the sharpest scythes in the corn field.

It transpires that Brendan is some prick from a down-at-heel version of Hogwarts, and he's coming home for Christmas. That is if the editing of the location footage doesn't prevent him from even getting to Sarah's car as they appear static at the start of the sequence where he and Sarah meet up. More local colour is splashed haphazardly across the canvas in the shape of Bill Pollock and swinging neighbour, Mrs Juno Baker. And what's in the box? Why, it's K-9. Cooped up for years in a create with no air holes and not even a pot to piss in. Perhaps there's some body like the RSPCA that deals with ill treatment to robotic animals? Princess Michael of Kent could be the patron. It could have that higher profile.

All Gold

Potter_1And K-9 Mk III is unveiled to the viewing public. Looking identical to the previous two versions, with one exception - the power to induce honking in Brendan. Who then goes on to demonstrate an unusually high knowledge of the innards of the metal dog. Leaving Brendan to tough it out with his intellectual equal Sarah goes off looking for some swinging action at the Bakers place, and I think I've spotted acclaimed Playwright Dennis Potter, in over-sized comedy specs, in the background enjoying a spam Vol au Vent and sexual promiscuity. It all slides down hill from there on in and becomes more like the Alan Partridge scene where he's accusing country folk of everything from not liking outsiders,  through to ritual child abuse and quacking plums. I think I've even spotted poor old Dave Blunkett on the sofa at one point, trying to get off with a standard lamp he mistakenly thought was a rake thin super model.

Singingdog_1Actually, what appears to happen next is the story starts unravelling in front of us. The special Tracey son attempts a break-in and gets tied up in Brendan's house tie, whilst Pa Tracey attempts a daring get away from K-9. And lets face it, all you'd need to escape K-9 was a really slow milk float. The story, such as it is, is a little pedestrian. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary. I wonder what plans were in place if the series was picked up? Would every single story centre around this pathetic little village, turning into a spooky version of Midsomer Murders? K-9 is actually sidelined for vast chunks of this story, bit like Taggart after McManus died. I'm having a problem with the pacing of the whole piece as things seem to come to a head fairly quickly, and get resolved even quicker. And it all ends in terrible manner with a singing dog. And not even the sort that would lighten up any edition of That's Life either!

Milk Tray

So, instead I'll turn my attention to Levine's partner in musical crime, a chap called Fiachra Trench which sounds like a made up name, but isn't. Turns out that he and Levine actually scored a massive European hit with High Energy. Take a look at his iMDB profile. There's not many people can boast a career that spans K9 & Company and Die Hard!

I'll drink to that. In fact, following that, I'll drink to anything.

The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about K9 & Company: following a brief spell in the limelight, K-9's career hit the skids when it was revealed that he was addicted to catnip and was often found snorting it in late night drinking spots in London. In between bouts of suicidal depression he finds the occasional work as Dave Blunkett's stand-in guide dog.


Im guessing its Hecate or Hekate http://hekate.timerift.net/

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