COMMERCIAL BREAK-UP

As I was growing up it would be fair to say that television was the main leisure pursuit in my life and for me and many others, the primary source of information back in the 60's.

I was never much into 'educational' programmes, however, but more into 'escapism.' In all honesty I could not say that this was my way of blurring out any sad, unpleasant or uncomfortable happenings in my life as I had a wonderful childhood, but they did take me away from my hum-drum existence.

As one who is somewhat 'vertically challenged', I was never destined to become one of the high-kicking Tiller Girls that had a prime slot at the London Palladium on a Saturday night, but Emergency Ward 10, which centred around the lives and loves of doctors and nurses at the fictitious Oxbridge Hospital, may have contained subliminal messages that were only to be realised many moons later.

To this day, I still cry buckets over TV collie Lassie when watched nowadays. Not because he has climbed the highest mountains or swam the deepest oceans, out of breathe and with bleeding paws having searched for his long-lost owner, but because, even then, back in my youth, he was reported to have earned £30,000 a year - off screen living in his own air-conditioned kennel and eating the best food money could buy - a salary which I know I shall never match before I retire.

But then they do say 'it's a dog's life' don't they - whoever "they" are!

Television also has a lot to answer to when it comes to the battle of the sexes.

I like to think of it as a kind of 'porthole' through which I can watch a good movie, series or drama. For lots of girls her daddy is her best friend and so too, as a man's best friend may well be his dog, mine has always been that square contraption in the corner of my living room. To my other half it is a fantastic invention which gives rise to watching any old rubbish just so long as he has a Heineken in his hand - so that it can refresh the parts that the TV mag cannot reach.

For me, the television remote is just a device for changing from one channel to another. For him it is a means of being able to scan through umpteen channels every five minutes only to complain that there is 'nothing worth watching.' The remote has fewer buttons than my keyboard and even I can manage to work through the alphabet quicker on my computer.

The television was certainly implicated in the last argument my spouse and I had. All I did was to ask him what was on the television to which he added 'dust' - on account that I was spending way too much time on the computer.

Moi? Spend too much time on the computer? Nonsense. But I did take his comments on board when he said that we did not communicate much these days so like a dutiful wife I went out and bought another computer and installed an additional phone line so that we can chat.

After a night out, all I did was to ask the cabbie to drop us off at our address http:// 14 Billingsgates/gohome_ semi-detached.co.uk. Booked under the name of Princess of Monaco the woman at the call centre did not question my humour yet my companion was far from amused at my mania.

If my website is to be a success then I not only have to think the part but play the part n'est pas?

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAMME TO BROADCAST THE FACT THAT A COMMERCIAL BREAK HAS JUST EMERGED.....

In my life I have many strings attached. It is not
surprising therefore that I, have now assumed the role of Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, having landed on Tracy Island following a fantastical tour of the universe in my time machine.

I would never have had my own chauffeur on Fantasy Island but now I have Parker(or "his nibs" - my 'pen name' for him)(please forgive the pun)who, like myself is somewhat of a cockney who, unlike myself, is the best safe cracker and cat burglar around. Could come in very handy if I find I have lost the keys to my house, my car or even my heart!

Instead of my very basic 5-Door runaround, I am now swanning around in an iconic six-wheeled Rolls-Royce with a personalised number plate of FAB 1. Cost me a small fortune but the machine guns in the grill, the bullet proof glass, the water skis for floating on water and the radar assisted steering are awesome though the pink bodywork does not compliment my complexion very well. Nevertheless I am experiencing a bit of Red Carpet TV here.

My customised vehicle has somewhat increased my insurance also but hey, what the heck ... this tv commercial break won't last that long!! As a London agent working for a secret organisation called International Rescue , based at the Thunderbirds establishment, I am having a field day in comparison to my usual bode of work.

Following his comments about the dust on the tv, like Kleenex tissue, 'him indoors' could soon find himself very much disposable.

Parker on the other hand is my loyal and indispensible assistant and he compliments my stylish and fashionable being well. I may be created from puppeteering technology but I do not have a wooden heart and he gets paid well for his services.

This is the 1960's however and I have to be particulaly wary of where I park my time machine especially in London. Traffic wardens have just been introduced here and I do not relish the thought of the 'yellow peril' clamping me before my missions are completed.

If I ever go back to the 21st Century I should start my own taxi company and call it Lady Penelope Chauffeurs. I would recruit only lady drivers. Who knows, it could be a success and as the CEO for once in my life I would be the one pulling all the strings

As I went back to the future to the year 2001 I was surprised to hear that DVLA had used my Thunderbirding friends in one of their commercials reminding people to pay their road tax. I am ashamed to say that I once cut Parker's strings by accident for allowing FAB-1 to be clamped.

Even though the likes of Captain Scarlett came over as a handsome exciting lead, his character, along with his co-stars was pretty "cardboard", and even though the direction was a little jerky and the scripts a little far-fetched, the series did have a glamorous jet-set appeal (excusing the pun)!!

My passport having expired I had to leave Tracy Island but did not want my detection skills to go wasted. We all know that wedding rings are the worlds smallest handcuffs. Perhaps that is why my altered ego needs to break free now and again!

As my mind travels back to the 1960's it was reading about the Famous Five and Secret Seven that fuelled my imagination for deductive reasoning.

I have since longed to utilise such a skill and now, with the help of Scottie who has just beamed me up from Tracy Island and transported me straight into my TV set I can be any female detective I choose. But which one suits me personality best I wonder?

Miss Marple

Do I look like an ordinary lady? I hope so. But on no account will you find me dressed in tweed, knitting or pulling up weeds in my garden. An elderly spinster living in St.Mary Mead I am most definitely not. My own 'office' would frequent a little cul-de-sac in the heart of the Cotswolds..

I certainly hope that I wouldn't come across as confused or "fluffy" if I were ever to try and solve a mystery but more so utilise my skills in psychology at being able to understand human nature and the weaknesses, strengths and quirks of the 'wrong-deed-doer's (as the "great and powerful wizard" once put it),not to punish them but to help them to see the error of their ways.

Jessica Fletcher

Whilst English was my best subject at school here the similarity lies between myself and Jessica Fletcher. I had no desire to become a substitute english teacher and live in the good old US of A, especially Cabots Cove in Maine.

I mean - let's face it. Who would want to be a friend of mine? After all, murder, in true tv fashion, would follow them around too and I wonder if my local Police Force would be prepared to protect them from the 'MAINEiacs across the other side of the Atlantic at the whim of some crazy writer!

Mata Hari

Femme Fatale

I learned a few foreign languages at school back in 1973 but whether this would be enough to pull it off as a secret agent working for French military intelligence - spying for the Germans - is debatable.

I would so love to go to Paris one day but have neither the poise or grace of Mata Hari to become an artists model nor an exotic dancer. Besides I was born too late and in the wrong place. Oh to have been born in Paris in 1903 instead of London in 1956, I may have made a good double agent but a double cheeseburger with french fries is more my style and a lot safer to digest.

Cagney & Gracie?

As Rosemary would I have Thyme on my hands?

.

Oh what a 'Good Life' it would be if I were to age as well as Felicity Kendall and assume the role of TV sleuth Rosemary Boxer. Whilst I may not be an expert in plant biology or a university lecturer in horticulture, I am somewhat of an academic and my natural curiosity and instincts for getting to the bottom of things does not usually let me down. But only Thyme would tell!

Cagney or Lacy? Doubtful. Would need to learn to pack a gun better than I can pack the shopping at Tesco's if I am to pull it off as a successful police detective in New York City. I mean, the only way I would be likely to make a killing would be on Wall Street and then, only possible if I were to shoot my broker!

Working as a police officer in the fictitious town of Hanley in Lancashire sounds divine but I am not prepared to change my name to Juliet Bravo.

Yet Juliet Forrest would suit me just fine as I enlist the services of a private eye called Rigby Richardson to help me prove that the reported death of my father in a mountain car crash was no accident. At least I would get to meet some of the Hallmark stars of the 40's and 50's as we seek out any friends or enemies he may have had in and around Carlotta.

Just for the record, Carlotta was "the kind of town where they spelt trouble T_R_U_B_I_L ". Could be that my father got killed for trying to correct the spelling.

Would be the only chance in my lifetime that I would get a chance at sucking a bullet from Steve Martin's shoulder - hopefully without ruining my lipstick- and if it were necessary to become some fat German's cleaning woman in order to solve the case then I would do it. At least I could find out whether DEAD MEN do or DON'T WEAR PLAID!

The closest I have come to L'Agent Provocateur' is sampling the new perfume at the local department stores. I may be a little mysterious at times but whether I am duplicitous, subversive, double-crossing, predatory, unloving, inreliable, irresponsible or manipulative is very debatable in terms of whether or not I would make a good Femme Fatale.

Yet all this from someone who is still struggling to find out who REALLY shot JR, who ACTUALLY framed Roger Rabbit and which 'bogus' doctor it was that administered the lethal injection that killed Marilyn Monroe. Then there is Michael 'Peter-Pan' Jackson. No-one seems to know much about the paramedics that tended that day leaving me to conclude that they must have been some kind of Smooth Criminals!

In reality the only way I am likely to be able to trace someone is to carry with me at all times a pencil and a piece of very thin paper! There is a site I have heard about that might assist me in this venture. It is www.topsecret.com but the server won't tell me how I can get onto it!

Charlie's Angels

Jacyln "Grace" Smith

It is fair to say that none of the above would apply.

In my altered- television- ego state I would settle for no less than to be one of the sexy female private eyes who work for that godly-voice at the end of a speaker phone. All I know about him is that his name is Charlie and he runs a detective agency. Though not usually considered beautiful and never found scantilly clad I hoped I would meet his expectations.

In the words of Max Bygraves "wanna tell you a story " ........

Once upon a time there was a woman called ## who worked hard day in and day out for little reward.

But a mysterious millionaire took her away from all that by opening his own private investigation agency and recruited her as a police officer to go undercover as a model, cocktail waitress or showgirl. He would not allow her to work as a stripper as he preferred to keep this private viewing for himself. His 'special' Angel. He condidered Sabrina and Kate more 'au fait' with this role.

At no point did Charlie and the girls ever underestimate her smart and strength at being a foil decoy and her skills at reverse psychology certainly had its benefits when it came to catching the crooks. Enter the new Kelly Garrett.

So you see, it would be fair to say that whilst she longed to be a beautiful, sexy, smart and powerful heroine who could use her provocative attraction and feminine - often feigned vulnerability to lure and capture unsuspecting criminals, this could only happen in her dreams.

At the very least she was afforded the opportunity to write an article for the local newspaper on a subject that anyone with an ounce of common sense could have compiled without any input from Interpol. But who says crime doesn't pay .. she begged to differ there as her ONLINE 999 article brought her 500 words not £500 and nothing more than a week's experience in the press office.

THE ARTICLE

My 'home' as one of Wiltshires' main towns, suffers the usual urban problems of which crime is no exception.

Whilst the local Neighbourhood Watch Scheme allows community members to support the Police to tackle crime on the outside there are no community police officers at the frontline of our home computers.

Having had a private e-mail address 'invaded' by a supposedly rich individual requesting money from me, I am playing advocate here.

My contribution to the community is to exhibit a brief understanding of how easily one could become one of the Borough's statistics as a victim of crime which could easily be minimised if not prevented.

Whilst Neighbourhood Watchers may have net curtains up so they can see but not be seen, as it were, to not have good interNET security is like having millions of neighbours peering through our window 24 hours a day.

Indulging in covert activity, scheming by hiding and using pawns to act in their place until they themselves wish to appear, is no longer science fiction but real life as Cybercriminals invade our homes.

They operate in a logical and calculating manner, full of aggression and lacking in emotion as were those persistent enemies of Dr.Who.

Just as the Cybermen were capable of injecting a deadly poison into whoever they touched, the Cybercriminals inject spyware viruses into our computers that can track keystrokes and copy details such as passwords to online bank accounts.

Social networking sites have become a fertile ground for a new wave of financial scams and attacks on our personal data.

Facebook, though highly addictive, is an online treasure trove of personal information for these 'pirates' preying on vulnerable folk who love to talk about themselves.

Some websites may seem plausible but are 'copycat' pages where criminals masquerade as trusted service providers, mimicking the mafia in its structures directing us to such sites in order to steal our data and identity. It takes time and patience but worth it if they can catch you hook, line and sinker. Here, the expression 'gone phishing' takes on new meaning.

Deleting something on the Net does not necessarily mean that our information has not been stored, copied or archived as these thieves take control of our lives.

Internet cafes are used more often than not as the use of a proxy server allows them to shield their identity online in search of bait. Good internet security serves as a waterproof dressing against our foul-weather 'friends.'

Looking for spelling errors, fortmatting errors and any e-mails that are addressed to us personally from senders we do not recognise should arouse suspicion.

Vigilance when disclosing personal information is the essence here if we are to prevent publications of a sensitive nature that could be held over us for the rest of our lives.

Online crime is very difficult to prove so let us reduce the burden on our local Police by protecting ourselves on the inside so they can have more time to support us on the outside.

Article ends.

"ATTENTION." "ATTENTION."

We interrrupt this programme to make another announcement. ## has now left the show.

Common sense prevailed. She had idealistically thought of the TV set as her window of opportunity to live out her fantasies in a world that exists only in her mind.

This left only two things for her to say to her viewers:

Firstly, "Please don't give up on me yet. After all, Moses was a basket case too" and secondly, in the world of tv and films I have the right to remain silent as anything I do say may be misquoted and used against me."

The End