It’s been a long time since I had a bloomin’ good old fashioned squee in my blog. Mainly because as soon as I began acting like a recycled teenager I shifted my rock star squee to its own special spot. That was fine until a huge great bolt of squee hit me when I didn’t expect it. Why didn’t I expect it? Well, he’s not a rock star, he doesn’t have huge great floofy hair, and when I first clapped eyes on him, I thought he was an offensive chauvinist pig.
Then I saw him reverse his Cortina down an alley with a bacon butty dangling out of his mouth. I was hit by the second raise of his eyebrows.
Yes, count me among the ranks of women around the world asking…
Gene Hunt… why does he drive me crazy?
I could just about hold myself during Life on Mars – there, as imagined by the comatose Sam Tyler, Gene was as brutish as the aftershave he splashed all over himself, oddly fascinating but very much your archetypal 70s man.
Now, in the just-finished Ashes to Ashes the same man is (allegedly) imagined by a woman, and it’s quite a different story…
Yeah. It’s even worse when he’s wearing the coat, as demonstrated here on Philip Glenister’s official site.
So what is it that makes the Gene Genie so damn squeeworthy? Is it Philip causing the squee? Well, although Mr G clearly is a fine looking chap, it’s more to do with his performance as Gene – presence, his humour, and the strength and passion in the character. It’s a primeval, animal thing, that need to have a strong man protecting the cave, and you know within five minutes of looking at him, that DCI Gene Hunt (aka the Manc Lion) will keep all manner of nonces and scumbags from your door.
Oh, enough attempts at justifying it. He just gives me the ‘orn.
Ashes to Ashes was 8 hours of fantastic TV, filled with drama, humour and squee by the bucketload. Kudos to all involved, especially the aforementioned Philip Glenister and of course, er, Kudos. Roll on 1982!