Oh! Everyone in my house has been singing 10cc’s Dreadlock Holiday all week. For that I hold James Corden and Ruth Jones entirely responsible, as it’s all down to their hugely successful festive revival of Gavin and Stacey. The baby in my family is now known by her name, followed by The Baby. There has been the occasional shout of: “He’s a junkie!” Discussions have been had, Sex and The City style, about who is who. I’m Pamela and I’m proud.
Early figures showed that half of all viewers tuned in, almost 12 million people, making it the biggest festive hit in a decade. When, on the same day, the Queen addressed roughly half that audience with a plea to overcome “long-held differences and deep-seated divisions to bring harmony and understanding”, she could not have imagined what would unite the nation was collectively waiting to hear Nessa say: “What’s occurrin’?” for the first time since 2008.
A report last week stated that 88% of Americans use a second screen while watching TV; Brits have been hovering around a similar level for a while. You only need glance around a room at this time of year to see everyone with heads bowed, listening with one ear, reading or watching something else entirely on the tiny screen in their hand. Viewing figures don’t yet take into account the quality of attention given to any one show, though, as I adjust my tinfoil hat, give it a few months until we learn that smart TVs have been measuring that all along, so I can only speak anecdotally, but during Gavin and Stacey, nobody was looking at their phones. It wasn’t just the cosy familiarity of the characters and the catchphrases that cooked up that feeling of warm nostalgia, but the fact that for the first time in a long time we were all watching something together and really watching it, too.
For all of their broad brushstrokes, such as the harried Christmas dinner and the grim soppiness of the two leads, Corden and Jones have a real knack for knowing exactly when to leave it. When Bryn started to talk about the fishing trip, we covered our ears and willed him not to explain. Of course he didn’t. But it was that ending that had everyone talking. Whether it was left inconclusive for the show to return again, or purely to keep us guessing, that delightfully open and cheering final scene refused to be wrapped up in a neat bow.
It was left wonderfully messy. And that was tidy.
Kylie Minogue: shame about the fires, mate
Last week, Kylie Minogue starred in the latest ad from Tourism Australia, presiding over the #Matesong, a glossy, tongue-in-cheek musical celebration of the country’s greatest hits. As someone who loves musicals so much that I would watch a musical adaptation of my weekly supermarket shop, I can appreciate the glitz and glamour of the $15m effort. Along with Shane Warne, Ash Barty, Adam Hills and a quokka, Minogue promises relief from any weariness instilled in us Poms by Brexit and Boris Johnson.
Mates, what timing. I don’t wish to throw stones in a glasshouse, but it is hard to get on board with a campaign asking people to fly about as far as it is possible to fly for a holiday, when fire crews there are braced for yet another record heatwave and debate is raging about the government’s inadequate response to the climate crisis, which has seen cities shrouded in smoke and bushfires burning since September.
“This year’s been tough and confusing, but progress is moving… at a glacial pace,” sing Minogue and Hills. You know what’s not moving at a glacial pace? Glaciers! Still, lovely beaches, great people, catchy song.
Ed Sheeran: time out to live a little? An inspiring idea
On Instagram, Ed Sheeran has announced that he will be taking some time off to “travel, write and read” and, like the inexplicable number of people I know who have somehow managed to wangle three weeks off work this year, he has turned his out of office on, changing his profile pic to “BRB”. He may not “be right back”, however, as it sounds as if he’s planning more than a short break. In the message, he explained that he would return with new music “when the time is right and I’ve lived a little more to actually have something to write about”.
Trust Sheeran to be eminently sensible about the pop grind. These days, pop stars have to knock out tracks with barely a pause for breath. No sooner is an album out in the wild than another is promised. Our attention spans are unforgiving and our appetites never sated. The machine must be fed. On an artistic level, this relentless churn rarely leads to quality; in fact, it is often the death knell for creativity. I always bristle when musicians release songs about being famous or being on tour, though it’s hard to blame them when those are the only experiences they can call on for inspiration.
With a handful of exceptions – Bowie’s Fame, Britney’s Piece of Me – songs about being famous are usually a bore for anyone who isn’t. Few people can tap into the kind of universal experience that makes a song a hit while living a life so far removed from it. The fact that Sheeran is taking time away to find something to write about again bodes well for fans because it makes it all the less likely that his next record will be along the lines of Take Me Back to London (In My Chauffeured Limousine).
• Rebecca Nicholson is an Observer columnist
