mostly david ephgrave

Over the last few days I’ve been rediscovering Phil Cornwell and John Sessions’ low-fi filmed-on-a-camcorder BBC2 comedy series Stella Street. I came across the programme when it first aired, thanks to the recommendation of the lead guitarist of my then band. We become friends through a mutual love of Police Squad, which we’d discuss a lot at school, so when he pointed me toward Stella Street, I was likely to enjoy it. The basic premise, if you haven’t seen it, is that a handful of celebrities have moved into a street in Surbiton, and are adapting to a more sedate pedestrian life. Most of the humour comes from seeing these people - who are mostly Hollywood A-listers - in incongruous mundane situations. The famous people are brought to life by just Cornwell and Sessions, who play most of the incidental characters as well. It’s a brave choice which pays off, though filming the series must have been a time-consuming affair, when you consider how many ...

If I end 2015 with the same hairline I’ll be happy. That’s not strictly true. In an ideal world, December David will have slightly more up front than Current-day David is sporting at the moment. Not too much. I don't want to be greedy. Just a few extra producing follicles front-left and front-right. When it comes to my head, something’s afoot. I should have said that in fewer body parts. There’s a small shift taking place in the frontline of my barnet. Let me put it like this: if my face was the location for Michael Caine’s breakthrough 1964 film Zulu, and my forehead the missionary station Rorke’s Drift, Caine and his compatriots would have had a lot less to fear from the soon-to-be-advancing Bantu ethnic army. There would have been a couple of escape routes on the horizon at the very least. (In other words, I think my hair's receding a bit.) If it’s true, it’s a worrying reminder of passing time. There’s no going back. I don’t want to be bald before I’m succe...