South Park Self

the sniper in the brain, regurgitating drain, incestuous and vain

I finally found the brainspace and emotional energy to watch the Sherlock special, and... wow. That was an appalling script. Seriously, what were they thinking? Incoherent and self-indulgent and pervaded throughout with an enormous, self-congratulatory sense of its own cleverness, which really wasn't as clever as it thought it was. And I'm not even going to take the lid off the gender politics can, on account of how it's too early in the morning to wrestle caricatures of giant writhing worms and besides, I have to go to the dentist and don't have time. Overall, a sad waste of an interesting concept. Lovely visuals, though.

I am on leave for ten days, in a desperate attempt to try and reconstruct myself, post-registration, as something other than a sad, limp piece of chewed string. Not ideally timed in terms of the fact that the faculty is still full of desperate students trying to register late, but needs must, and I have thoroughly briefed my team to deal with it. I think overall a brief recuperatory absence now is probably better than a month off work with a full-on glandular resurgence, which I can feel building up if I don't rest. As a bonus side-effect, protesting students have taken to be-dewing the university buildings liberally with cans of sewerage of a morning, the first expression of which I managed to miss on Tuesday owing to Evil Traffic, and I'd like to maintain that distance. It seems a good time to coincidentally be away.

Now off to dentist. I think may have taken to grinding my teeth over the last month, bits are chipping off. My subject line is Bowie's "Time", which I have always adored for its jazzy piano, but I'm amused by how far the quote applies both to Sherlock episodes and sewerage-flinging students. What's really in my mind, though, with respect to "Abominable Bride" is the line about falling wanking to the floor.
Incoherent and self-indulgent and pervaded throughout with an enormous, self-congratulatory sense of its own cleverness, which really wasn't as clever as it thought it was.
Which is why I can't stand Moffat's work. In my sensibilities, all of his stuff is this. I don't get why he's considered such a hot property.
There's often an element of this in his work for me, but it doesn't always predominate to quite this extent. I enjoyed his work in earlier Doctor Who, when it was frequently actually clever, and his tighter control of narrative structure was thrown into relief by Russell Davies's fondness for emotional spectacle over plot, but he's lost a lot of that over time. Also, his deeply dodgy gender politics has become progressively more painful. Like an ingrowing toenail. The bugger about scripts like Bride is that they make me go back and reassess earlier episodes in a far more unfavourable light. In short, you're not wrong :>.