Have you missed me? I hope not, you should all have much better things to do than worry about where I’ve staggered off to.

I’ve been reading you all in my absence, and it’s good to see you keeping so busy. A spectacular number of bloggers got through to the second round of The Red Planet prize, and those who’ve got the chops to go further should be hearing all about it soon; so good luck, mes amis.

I myself have not been sitting on my hands, but using them to karate chop away at 2009 like a sex-starved Ross Geller, only the sex in this metaphor is...well...damn it, sex.

At least I’m managing to keep one nib inky, as it were. Britain needs better writers, as is clearly evidenced by the likes of Demons and Merlin, to name but two (both shows crafted by the same fair sets of hands, by the way). I was just trying to watch Demons, but no, I’m sorry, I can’t. My IQ is greater than 40, after all.

I despair sometimes, I really do.

At least there is still the occasional ray of intelligence bursting forth. Sally Wainwright’s Unforgiven has been absolutely stellar these last two weeks, so the fact that it’s only a three parter makes me a little glum. Wainwright’s script is so lean, it whistles as it moves. No word is wasted, no scene drawn out; it’s an out and out marvel. Suranne Jones I only know from Vincent and half an episode of Harley Street, neither of which really gave any clue of her abilities, but as Ruth Slater released after 15 years inside after killing two policemen, aged 17, she commands the screen. Monday night’s finale promises revelations and repercussions. and I’ll not be missing it, come Monday night.

Incidentally, the BBC have asked Wainwright to pep up Robin Hood, following what’s sure to be the departure of almost all the cast after the end of the upcoming third season. If they lik her ideas and commission a fourth season, I’ll finally start watching.