March 15th, 2005


The plumber is coming to rip the bathroom apart.

He is replacing the sink and the toilet and the radiator.

At times like this I remember I am British.

My ancestors coped with the Armada, with Boney and the Luftwaffe. I can cope with this.


Art doesn't often make me happy. It brings on lots of other emotions, but simple happiness, no.

Perhaps I pay attention to the wrong sort of art.

But then along comes the BBC's new Casanova, with cheeky David Tennant as the young Signor C and magisterial Peter O'Toole as the older Signor C.

(I spotted Peter O'Toole on a train once- he was hiding behind a newspaper and drinking Coca Cola- And I thought he was supposed to be a hell-raiser!)

This is my third Casanova.

Fellini's Casanova was glum and suffused with Catholic guilt.

Dennis Potter's Casanova was glum and suffused with Protestant rage.

But the BBC's new Casanova (Russell T Davies's Casanova) is dedicated to the propositions that shagging might actually be fun-

and even better, that men and women might be friends.

This is a Casanova who gets laid because he likes women. That's his secret.

Oh, and he's funny and cheeky and he wrinkles up his nose and flares his nostrils just like Kenneth Williams.

The girls are funny too.

Laura Fraser!
Nina Sosanya!

And then there are the frocks. And there is Venice (actually Dubrovnik I believe.) And there is Matt Lucas as the only gay in Venice.

How nice to be in one's twenties and witty and impertinent and brave! Life is a silly masquerade and most of the people are pretending to be something they're not, so why not treat it as a huge game and have FUN?

You're only young once.

Like I said, It makes me happy.