Pop archaeology and scant information stretched very thinly, pretty camera work and an eye-candy presenter clumsily deployed to disguise the fact. We should be shown powerful, challenging documentaries not this brain rotting pap.
sharean eye-candy presenter
She certainly is! I take back everything negative I said, it's a great programme.
shareNo, you're right, it is thin on intellect, but man, what a host....... She is SO beautiful.
Nous sommes Français. Nous parlons Français.
She's definitely the right woman for the job in terms of distracting you from the programme's shortcomings. I was only half joking about seeing the programme in a new light.
She's like the girl at college who was well out of my league but made me feel like anything was possible. Beautiful on her own terms, intelligent and kind-hearted, accepting, not even slightly intimidating like the other beautiful girls with their precision-plucked eyebrows and Hollywood smiles.
Maybe I had a fling with her but blew it by being a touch too immature, too non-committal. More likely, I spent an age admiring her from afar without ever declaring my clammy, terrified feelings.
We were friends. One night, drunk and fearless, I lean across to kiss her after three years of being scared to face the challenge of achievement or the cold despair of rejection. She gently pushes me away with an indulgent smile, breathes in my ear, "I love you but not in that way".
Next, she's on the arm of some Coca Cola kid, a soulless, square-jawed success story from a long line line of success stories. She loves the kids and the view from the picture window but she hates the Rotary Club meetings, the sly glances from the coterie of country club wives, the cigar smoke and the lingering scent of the whore's cheap perfume on his shirt after the latest business trip to Berlin.
Or maybe it's some ragged, snarl-faced boy who she finds intriguing, intoxicating and dangerous. One night he cooks a dark, delicious soup on the tin foil. Aromas of Afghanistan and oblivion fill the bedsit. "No" she says, "I don't go that way". "Shhh" he says with infinite tenderness, a terrible hunger in his eyes. She leans back on the filthy mattress, recieves the needle like a lover's tongue and wakes a century later, her eyes black, her hands swollen and numb.
Anyway, sad stuff about the Neanderthals. They might have been a rough lot but the crushing melancholy of being the last of your kind, waiting on a clifftop, staring out to sea and wondering when your fellows might return. It really touched me, it captured the feeling well.
Quite an imagination you have there.
I'm not even remotely interested in anthopology!! But I found myself glued to the program. What a beautiful accent, what beautiful arms... I was mesmerised.
Nous sommes Français. Nous parlons Français.
I'm not sure it's entirely my imagination at work there Bordeaux Boy. I have to admit, with reddened cheeks, that I was on the rum when I wrote that.
I was inluenced by re-reading the semi autobiographical novel, The Peculiar Memories of Thomas Penman by Bruce Robinson. He's the writer and director of Withnail and I if it's not too patronising to point that out. It's a *beep* great book and I recommend it to everyone I can get my meathooks on.
There was no direct plagiarism of any of Robinson's writings nor even any resemblance between my drivel and his brilliance. I think reading it triggered a rubbish and clumsy pastiche of urban-romantic purple prose.
Eh? I think I'll stay off the fruit of the sugar cane for a while. It leads to all kinds of sillyness.
But, God, yes, the arms! I work with a woman who has arms just like Alice and I'm completely obsessed with her, totally infatuated when I think about it. The bit where her triceps meets her armpit, it's starting to jeopardise my relationship with the woman I declare my love to.
Many girls have nice arms and bodies.
This woman you work with, has she that killer articulate British accent Alice has?
Nous sommes Français. Nous parlons Français.
It's articulate and British but she sounds totally different, a bit reedy maybe. I think she's fading in my affections a lot now, I feel that she could be a bit selfish and high maintenance. At first I needed to be away from her for a long time before I started to forget her but now I'm getting my thoughts and feelings under control again.
She's certainly no Alice Roberts. Then again, I'm no Cary Grant but who is? It's a passing thing I'm sure. Great arms though, beautiful hands, incredible soft blue eyes. Oh no, I'm back there again...
Whereabouts are you from Bordeaux Boy? Sounds like a daft question that might be answered with "Well, I've tried to keep it secret but I'm from Bordeaux. Don't tell anyone". The French don't usually admire British accents though, it's usually the other way around.
I'm guessing somewhere in the U.S. Both times when I was over there people would ask me crazy questions just to hear my accent, and I don't have any of the lyrical qualities of a classical English accent. In fact, I sound like I'm gargling with scrambled eggs.
I didn't know that The Incredible Human Journey had been broadcast outside the UK though.
I'm a Brit, like you. I reside in the UK. I just have ties to Bordeaux.
I didn't know that The Incredible Human Journey had been broadcast outside the UK though.
I'm sorry Angela, I didn't mean to come across that way but I can see why someone might interpret my comments as trollish and insulting.
On reflection, my original comments were overly harsh but I do believe that the programme stretches it's information too thinly and relies too heavily on beauty to pass it's hour.
I don't feel that Bordeaux Boy or I wrote about Alice in a disrespectful or prurient way. We both admire her intelligence and delightful, relaxed manner before the camera. We both acknowledge her comeliness too, hopefully without resorting to unnecessary carnal banter.
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He is certainly smarter than you, but nowhere near as smart as Dr Roberts.
share[deleted]
I'm sure that I'm not smarter than him. Real intelligence is about being able to inventively think your way around challenges and apply your knowledge to solve problems. I've nearly burned my brain out trying to do that and have learned that I haven't got a clue how to.
Just because someone can string a lot of fruity language together, it doesn't mean they're clever.
I'm sad to say though, choking back a sob of despair, it's mrs Roberts...
To be honest bro, I just write and talk a load of crap but I chuck a few strange words in to make me sound like I'm some sort of inter-lek-chuall. I try to stop doing it but it's a shtick that's shtuck.
Thanks for the compliment though, it's nice to have something to hang a good feeling on.
This heat's making me drink like a bastard, I keep waking up with a thick head and finding out that I've been writing all this gibberish. Earlier today I talked to a cow in a field for five minutes before I realised I wasn't going to get a reply.
Poor Dr Alice, I hope she never reads all this. "My word!" She'll exclaim "There's some fellow on a message board claiming that he used to date me at college before I became an opium fiend. The brute says he's obsessed with my armpits!".
One day I'll wake up in her garden with my feet in the pond and find that a thrush has shat on my forehead. Koi carp will be nibbling my shoelaces and her wiemeraner will be stood over me uttering a low growl.
Dr Alice will be looking down at me clutching a rake. "Simon, call the police!" she'll shout over her shoulder, "There's a strange man here with no trousers on and a saucepan on his head!".
"Leave him Dr Alice, be with me, I... I love you" I'll croak at her. "Live with me in my flat next to the dual carriageway. I'll make you cheese and mushroom omelettes every morning and massage your armpits when you get in from work".
Then, when I turn my head and puke uncontrollably on her feet, the mingled look of horror, pity and disgust on her face will make me want to die a thousand times.
Oh, Dr Alice, you little minx! (adjusts monocle).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIMbsosjRXA
Watching that makes the vein in my forehead throb like a turkey's heart! It's too much pleasure to bear!
It has it all. Rubber tubes, exquisite English accent, arcane machinery, references to a gentleman's trouser furniture... and those finely sculpted arms.
It's simply too much! Don't Die Young? I think I'm about to.
A-hubba-hubba!
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she acted like she had to figure all this stuff out herself.
i thought doctors were smart.
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A let down with the host. She seemed to know very little about anthropology and 20% of her theories just seemed ignorant or just too far fethed. And she often told what she believed but gave very little evidence for it. I love these kind of documentaries but this was a bit of a letdown. I am pretty sure they hired her for her looks - but the price was to high.
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