As for rude BBC Micro/Master programs which weren’t written by me, the closest I got to was the famous hacked version of Frak!. I shall leave it to your good selves to decide whether that’s harmless fun, or just misogynistic unpleasantness.

What I would have given then, for these three files (sent to me by Andy Taylor, originally from TOSEC.) Playable with a Beeb emulator (I use BeebEm), I can now view hardcore sex pictures in glorious 160×256.

I presume you filthy bastards want screengrabs, yes?

Screenshots of dirtybeeb.dsd

The BBC Micro did not do native greyscale; only two colours, four, or eight., at varying resolutions. These images use eight colours, and were intended to be viewed on a monochrome monitor, or colour with the saturation turned down. To simulate this, hover over the pictures.

Screenshots of dirtybeeb2.dsd

Of course, seeing these images shrunk down somewhat reduces their impact; to see them as originally intended, boot up an emulator and view the slideshows full-screen. Sadly, some images on the second and third disc seem to be corrupted. (In a file integrity sense, rather than a moral one.)

The third disc has some delightful images of fisting in it; I’ve left those out. Got to save something for those of you who bother to emulate it yourself, haven’t I?

Screenshots of drtybeeb3.dsd

There are precious few hints as to the original origin of the pictures, or who digitised them, or even what year it’s from. The first set has the title “Growing Yourself” – presumably the title of the original film, although a quick net search draws a blank. The second disc has the remains of a games compilation menu on it; Drain Mania, Contraption and the like, which is presumably what the disc held before it was filled with FILTH – and isn’t much help anyway. Beyond that, nothing. Sad to say, I find this kind of thing historically important; if anyone knows anything about this material, let me know. A testament to mankind’s propensity to twist any new technology into a wanking tool.

Oh, and my first taste of real hardcore porn? Bags of dodgy 5th generation VHSes from a shop which six months later was busted by police. And we watched them in the video store my friend worked at when there was no management around. Ah, memories.

The thing I find most fascinating about it is that it reminds me of when colour depth ceased to be a big deal to most people in terms of specifications. (At its extremes in the early days of home computing, to get the highest resolution on a BBC Micro, 640 x 256, you could only display two colours at once.) As soon as technology advanced enough so that 24-bit, 16.7 million colours in high resolution became standard, the general consumer stopped caring, as that’s the most granularity the eye can make out. Exactly the same is now happening with pixel density on mobile devices; we are approaching – or at, depending on your point of view – the point where it’s impossible for the eye to make out individual pixels, and there’s little point going much further. And whilst Apple may have got there first, this kind of display will surely become standard across all high-end phones over the next couple of years.

With this, however, comes its own set of problems. The user interface of the iPhone was carefully designed for the finger; a reason why Mac OS X and your common-or-garden desktop variety of Windows will never work that well on touchscreen devices. Render each pixel the same way on an iPhone 4 as on previous models, and unless you cut off three quarters of your finger lengthways and poke at the device with a bloody stump, you’d have problems; to say nothing of the squinting. Everything would be rendered four times smaller.

The answer was resolution independence, and with the iPhone, it was easy. The screen on an iPhone 4 has exactly four times the amount of pixels as older iPhones; 640 x 960, compared to 320 x 480. Where one pixel was rendered before, you instead render four. The result: everything is rendered the same size as before – icons, text, the lot – but far more sharply. Everybody’s happy. (Of course, Android also has resolution independence; indeed, with the greater variety of handsets with different specifications, it’s a necessity. But there’s a specific reason why I’m approaching this from an iPhone point of view, as will become apparent.)

So far, so bloody obvious. However, it’s important to note that what seems a natural thing to do with mobile devices isn’t traditionally the done thing with operating systems. For instance, my 17″ Macbook Pro runs at a maximum resolution of 1920 x 1200. And yet, apart from watching HD video, I never actually use it in this resolution – instead, I bump it down to 1680 x 1050. Why? Because at the maximum resolution, the user interface is simply too small to be comfortable for me. Usable, yes, but not comfortable. Unlike the iPhone, one pixel in the UI means one pixel, and everything shrinks or expands accordingly.

This is irritating enough now. But what of the future? The standard measurement for pixel density is ppi – that’s pixels per inch. The aforementioned 17″ Macbook Pro, at its maximum resolution, has a ppi of 132. The iPhone 4 has a ppi of 326 – two and a half times greater. Now we have these amazing devices that live in our pockets with such great screens, how much longer will people tolerate a lower pixel density on their main computer displays? Doesn’t it feel odd to have sharper displays on our phones than at our main workstations?

Of course, 30″ monitors aren’t suddenly going to develop 326ppi displays overnight; the ramifications for graphics cards alone are “difficult”, let alone physically making the display. It’s much easier to create smaller displays with a massive pixel density than larger ones. But it’s not difficult to imagine screens – especially smaller laptop screens – vastly increasing in pixel density in the forthcoming years; and then full resolution independence, with UI elements rendered at a size independent of pixel density, will become a nothing other than a necessity. A 13″ laptop screen, with the iPhone 4’s pixel density? Yes bloody please.

Murmurings of full resolution independence for Mac OS X have been around for many years; some backend support was built into OS X Tiger in 2005. It was developed further in Leopard, and I expected the feature to be fully completed with the current version of OS X, Snow Leopard, in 2009; with that release being dedicated to tidying up the OS, it seemed like the ideal time to implement it. Sadly not. The work remains half-done, not visible to the end user, unless you fiddle with the developer tools.

Meanwhile… Windows 7? Pop into Control Panel, click “Appearance and Personalization”, then “Make text and other items larger or smaller”, and there you have it – you can select whether to view things at 100%, 125%, or 150%, regardless of screen resolution. I haven’t played with it much, and I know there are issues with programs that aren’t designed to handle it; the implementation is not perfect. Still: it’s there. (If any Windows people want to interject with how well the feature works in practice, feel more than free.)

For those of you worried about where this is leading, despite appearances, I’m generally not one of those people who complain that Apple has slowed Mac OS X development for the sake of iOS devices. As much as anything else, Mac OS X is a relatively mature operating system; there’s very little I ache for in the current version. But resolution independence is now getting to the point where it’s becoming important. The problem is far more difficult than with the iPhone; you need to cope with multiple resolutions, and multiple displays, with multiple ppi values. It’s not just a case of doubling up the pixels, and the problems with it are presumably why it remains half-finished. (And with Apple, with their emphasis on the user interface, any implementation would need to be absolutely perfect.) But when the announcements for OS X 10.7 start appearing, I’ll be very disappointed if it isn’t included. Especially with Windows pushing forward with the feature. Without it, it will actively start to hold back future hardware developments – hardware developments that the iPhone 4 is paving the way for.

And I’d like to finally be able to use my laptop at the resolution I bloody paid for, please.

In answer, here’s a scan from excellent BBC kids magazine Fast Forward, August 29 – September 4 1990 – sadly, I have lost the aforementioned doorhanger promised on the cover:

I have quite a few old Fast Forward issues here; if anyone wants to see more of Andi “Ask Me Blooming Anything At All” Peters, or Phillip Hodson’s fucking harrowing column, just ask…

A couple of things. My twitpal (note: do not use word again) Brig Bother makes the point the article is flat out lying that the format was a huge success in the US; it did far better in the UK. (To be honest, the piece is full of interesting stuff, but is written in slightly generic journalist-speak. “The zany Mr. Barrymore” indeed.)

Andy Taylor, meanwhile (I feel like I’m on an especially geeky Points of View here) wondered if the original software was still around, so you could recreate the show. That’d be an amusing exhibit for the Centre for Computing History to have. Anyone up for breaking into Teddington Studios in the middle of the night and poking around in some dusty corners?

It is a real shame that custom software like this just disappears into the ether.

The letters themselves are from my two FAILED performance auditions for the Central Junior Television Workshop – latterly The Television Workshop – in 1992 and 1993; for maximum confusion, the 92 one is my rejection, wheras the 93 one is for my second application. Sadly, I can’t remember much about the sessions beyond sitting with a group desperately coming up with what we thought were hilarious sketches, and that I wanted to win a place really fucking badly. Oh, and that one of the guys from Palace Hill was there to help us and act in our sketches as a halfway house between us and the instructor. As I recall, in one of the sessions we entirely copied the clingfilm-across-the-toilet gag from Grange Hill. I hope that was my idea.

If you have any old letters from telly companies, why not scan them in and place them on the internet? I can think of nothing better you should be doing with your time.

Don’t be stupid. This is television. They can mess up anything.

Bender’s Big Score in feature-length form is, correctly, first. Then we have Into the Wild Green Yonder… erm, the last of the movies, with an ending that could have served as closure to the series if needed. Then, we have The Beast With a Billion Backs, the second movie… and in episodic form. Now, if you’re showing all episodes at once, the feature-length versions are clearly the ones to go for. But whichever you choose, you pick a format, then stick to it – not mix and match between feature-length and episodic. And why the hell mix up the order, especially when there’s a specific climax at stake?

Even worse, Into the Wild Green Yonder was broadcast as cropped 4:3 in a 16:9 frame, rather than widescreen. Which is silly on SD – and it’s worth pointing out that by showing 4:3 material in a 16:9 frame they’re actually lowering the picture resolution compared to just showing true 4:3 material – but when Sky1 HD is doing it too (the standard for HD being 16:9 only), that’s a special kind of incompetence. To top it all off, for the break bumpers they’re actually using a widescreen image – a hideously slowed-down section from the title sequence, which looks appalling in itself.

Oh yeah, and then the episodic Beast With a Billion Backs is in true widescreen. Riiiiiiight.

The thing is, it’s not like there’s any reason for any of this. There’s no reason to mix and match episodic and feature-length versions. There’s no reason to show them in the wrong order. And there is absolutely no reason to show non-widescreen versions of this material – material dating from 2009. All it would take is someone actually paying attention to get these things right.

Sky1 is Sky’s flagship channel. And their flagship channel doesn’t appear to care about what they’re actually broadcasting this afternoon. In fact, they’re doing an uncanny impression of just sticking out whatever happens to be on the server, in a random order. Isn’t that a bit… embarrassing?

Rutland Weekend Television coming to life before your eyes.

Take a listen, then, to the following jingle, from PAMS Series 28 – made for the radio station WABC in 1964:

PAMS Series 28, Cut #15

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t intend to draw lots of inadvisable comparisons between Britain in 2010 and New York in 1964, World’s Fair or no. The furthest I’ll go is to point out that it very deliberately evokes the American Dream – a beautiful thing in theory, whatever the reality is.

My point really is simpler. In a media landscape full of distrust, full of people yapping about anyone a shade darker than themselves – wouldn’t it be nice to have a few jingles on-air that sung of welcoming new people, and being happy about it? If New York in 1964 could do it, why can’t we?

Not pretending it’d change the world. Neither am I pretending it’s the big issue. Just saying it’d be nice… and maybe mean something, in its own small way.

(Oh, and WABC? Then, it was a famous and influential music radio station; today, it’s conservative talk radio, and the home of Rush Limbaugh. Sigh.)

In the first of our guest articles here on Transistorized, Tanya Jones talks about one of her favourite sitcoms…

George & Mildred is one of those often-misunderstood shows, with a reputation for being a typical run-of-the-mill sitcom, epitomising smug middle-class values. You’ll no doubt be astounded to hear that I think there’s a lot more to it than that. Although the main conceit is an ageing working-class couple struggling to fit in a very middle-class estate in very middle-class Hampton Wick, the title sequences actually hint at a lot more, setting the viewer up for the unharmonious, but loving marriage between the Ropers, and their relationship with their next-door neighbours, the Fourmiles. I suppose you want me to prove it now, don’t you? Well, read on…

Series 1

The titles for the first series of G&M are possibly the best opening titles for anything ever, in terms of setting the scene for the series. Presumably they were intended to not only do just that, but made on the assumption that, as a well-loved double act in Man About the House, the audience would like to know more about their back-story. The piano is reminiscent of a sing-song round the old Joanna, highlighting their East End roots, while photos outline their life (including an intriguing photo of Mildred with another man, perhaps indicating what might have been) and their getting together, explaining that we’re now joining this couple at a specific point in their life -although there’s no mention here of their stint as landlords for the Man About the House gang. The sequence is 40 seconds of concise and amusing storytelling, and deserves to be far better remembered than it is.

Series 2

Ah, the difficult second series. Although I think the first series titles would have still done the trick here, I can understand the thinking behind expanding the titles for a now-established show. The titles depict a comic sequence with Mildred smelling the roses in their garden, then George arriving in an old motorcycle and sidecar. Mildred reluctantly gets in, with the Fourmiles looking from their window, and then the sidecar falls off when George moves off, leaving Mildred embarrassed in front of her neighbours. Mildred sniffing the flowers is a sign of the sort of person she’d like to be: respectable, middle-class and appreciating the finer things in life. George’s choice of transport represents the type of person he is and enjoys being: a tight-wad with no appreciation of the need of his wife to be seen in a more decent vehicle. It’s amusing enough, but doesn’t have nearly the same impact as the first series’ titles; not least because the cockney sing-song theme being replaced with a more mellow track, which was used, in one form or another, until the last episode. Although the first series theme wouldn’t have fitted the titles, it’s a shame to see it go.

Series 3

For the third series, the profile of the characters means we can have something a bit more complex. Here we have the couple seemingly acting with the same intentions, for once: with Mildred setting up the table for a barbecue, and George dressed as the chef, holding up a string of sausages. Mildred demonstrates her now-familiar low opinion of George’s manhood by cutting the links between the sausages, with George wincing at every cut, and Mildred giving him a knowing look. However, George spoils things by revving up his motorbike in the garden, causing mud to be splattered right up the tablecloth Mildred is holding, much to her indignation. George also comes a cropper when attempting to indulge in his now-notorious laziness, when the hammock he sets up comes away from its moorings, and brings part of the garden fence down, revealing the Fourmile’s peaceful family scene. Mildred throws her drinks to the side in despair.

By now, we are very aware of Mildred’s desire for children, something George has been either unwilling or unable to provide. Even if the couple didn’t have any fertility issues, it’s obvious from Mildred’s caustic references that George hasn’t made love to her enough to ensure conception, and now, of course, it’s really far too late. This issue was touched on as soon as the fourth episode of the first series, Baby Talk, where they apply to adopt a child, and are gently told that they’re too old. Yootha’s portrayal of a crushed Mildred is genuinely heart-rending, and she has to console herself with a new dog, Truffles, and by babysitting the Fourmile’s children.

Series 4

Ah, Thames had some new video FX equipment in, did they? The idea of Mr and Mrs Roper nose-to-nose in profile is a reasonable one, as they’re known for their bickering as much as anything else, but the advent of the video-wipe isn’t reason enough for this boring sequence. It’s a shame, as Series 4 has the interesting Days of Beer and Rosie, where George thinks that he may have fathered a son during the Second World War.

Series 5

The production team obviously realised the Series 4 titles failed, so we have what is effectively a retread of Series 2, albeit with the Fourmile family getting in their shiny new Volvo. George manages to show (inadvertently or not) his long-running feud with Geoffery Fourmile by showering him with mud when riding his motorbike past him, and his lack of consideration for his wife by letting an implausibly-large amount of water build up in the sidecar, which soaks her feet when the door is opened.

Even though the cast and production team were planning a sixth series (foiled by Yootha Joyce’s sudden death), this series seems a fitting end, especially as the episode The Last Straw features the Ropers attempting to find George’s old neighbourhood, after Mildred finally gets fed up with not being accepted at Hampton Wick. They find the houses replaced by tower blocks, and realise that they can’t go back. The titles do mirror the tone of the series: a re-tread of the same old ground, as amusing as it is, is probably a sign that the story has been told.