American and Australian Horror Stories

American Horror Story: Asylum

I've been watching American Horror Story season two. There's nods to a lot of horror films that even I've picked up on. They must be pretty blatant, because I'm rubbish at noticing things like that usually. Pistache-blindness, I'll call it. There's some Texas Chainsaw Massacre with the masks and the brutal attacks. Not strictly horror, but there's a Nurse Ratched-alike running the place. There's some alien abductions going on (yes, there's the probes, alien abduction and probes go together like horse and carriage, you can play that b*llsh*t bingo game watching any interview with someone claiming to be an alien abductee, and 'probe', and probably 'anal-probe' is going to be one of the first cross-offs, and yes, the women come back pregnant). There's the Nazi death camp doctor hiding out continuing his experimentation. There's more than a passing nod to The Exorcist. There's more nuns than you can shake a roman candle at.

All in all, its a great, gothic asylum story, with the occasional proper shock in there, and enough gore for even...well...even for me.

Australian Horror Story: The Ashes

No matter how bad it gets, there's some fun stuff going on:

1. Over here, the Bob Willis on the Ashes Verdict. Every night after a day's play, at nine o'clock on Sky Sports, you can watch uncle Bob become increasingly apoplectic in his condemnation of England's performances. Considering that he starts off at searingly incandescent and escalates from there, its pretty damn amusing, unless you're a medic on standby nearby. In which case I'd park as near to the studio as possible.

2. Over there, on the Test Match Special close of play podcast, there's Boycott. Who is equally incandescent, but has a more amusing turn of phrase. “Well he's just stupid. There's more brains in a pork pie, int' there?” “That were like my other hanging out the washing, if I were you back in England I'd go to sleep” (way to sell the show Geoff!). Of Alistair Cook's dismissal, bowled: “he played down Piccadilly, and it went down Bakerloo”. I know he trots this out a lot, but it is a favourite of mine: me mum could've played that bowling with a stick of rhubarb.”

3. The apparently 'shocking' level of on-pitch aggression the teams are showing. A level that, were you not to exceed it by an order of magnitude playing for the local football or rugby vets team in the annual super-friendly knock-about fixture, you'd be laughed off the park in the first ten minutes.

4. Whenever there's international cricket, there's a chance to listen to Bumble. As down to earth as Boycott, but a frustrated stand-up comedian, and certifiably mental in that Matthew Hoggard way.

If there's any doubt in anyone's mind just how much sport actually matters compared to the other rubbish people find to fret about, check out the viewing and listening figures for a series that's just about at the most ridiculously difficult hours possible.

I've developed a coping mechanism. The laptop is on the Sky Sports coverage all night, with headphones plugged in, so that if I wake up for any reason, I can take in half an hour or so live before dozing back off. The netbook is on the bedside cabinet, with Test Match Special on the other headphones, should the need for an emergency update occur. It's been compelling. Like all good horror stories.