Sinister: In memory of Phyllis Pierce.

[Ruvi Simmons]

No doubt to the eternal joy of all the unfortunate individuals who have been
receipt of the other missives I have penned, this one is going to be
uncommonly short. I just thought, in the spirit of reminiscences regarding
Teletext, I would mention a hitherto neglected page: Sam Brady's television
reviews. I checked recently and was overjoyed to see that it stil existed,
having been going since the days when I was an overweight child sitting on a
mis-shapen sofa that overlooked and untended back garden in Hemel Hempstead.
It still contains a picture of him with a moustache that makes his upper lip
look as if it is home to a well-tended hedgerow. He always looks beligerant,
and writes pseudo-witty comments on the goings on in Coronation Street,
London's Burning and Eastenders. Sort of like an academic of television
culture crossed with Gary Bushell. Even more shocking is that the blocky
image of him on the Teletext page is in fact an exact likeness of the
individual, who REALLY exists. Yes, human beings are working somewhere in
the bowels of Television Centre, scribbling away for Teletext. It isn't
merely the product of some enormous ticker tape computer with whirring cogs
and sinister intentions.

On an entirely different subject, and the real reason I am writing this, I
was wondering if anybody went to Edinburgh University, because I was
thinking of applying. Is it good? Is the city nice? Does it have a good
English department? That's it, really. I have a propensity towards lengthy
goodbyes in which I try and inject a bit of difference and peculiar
interest, but, to save your fair eyes from any further trouble and to free
just a little bit of time for you to do other things, I shall restrain
myself. Spend it well. Read a poem, sing, go to the cinema (an Ingmar
Bergman penned film just came out!) or do any number of other life-affirming
things.

Ruvi.


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