A post-Thatcherite London in the cold grip of a recession, probably - children stare towards a bleak future with their hopes fading, their dreams shattering like so many beer bottles over Everton supporters' heads during a match at Old Trafford. A youngish entrepreneur extolling the virtue of pre-Blair Third Way economics sets up a growing journalistic concern for adolescents for some reason in conjunction with a local high school. Hot hot journalistic action ensues.
The All-Star Cast, I guess:
The only obvious star you recognize is Ab Fab's Saffy (Julia Sahwala) as the hard-boiled Editor that does mad cusses in her head and maintains a rigid honor-system swear jar. Co-starring is the cult classical Dexter Fletcher playing Spike, the mischievous seppo with "nothing to lose." There are other cast members, but most of them are boring, stereotypical and shithouse.
The Meat Inside:
Featuring a cast of nobodies, the fledgling Junior Gazette has merely five days until their first edition hits the presses sans front page story. In the pre-YouTube/MySpace/Twitter Blog/OMG RUPERT MURDOCH PWNS J00 age of media oversaturation, this means the kids have to actually use their wits and find one. A delinquent American exchange student or some shit reluctantly joins the fold after displaying a MacGuffin at the school dance and fates himself to expulsion or a burdgeoning Bob Woodward style journalism career. He opts for the latter and attempts to bludge his way out of working by making witty quips about induction forms. The power of the poon (The "pretty" pint-sized J. Jonah Jameson style Editor) compels him to fly right and walk straight, eventually, despite his often madcap and/or tryhard antics.
The Cheese:
Of course, with every children's TV show, the acting resides in a nightmarish Aristotelian world of either melodramatic Stanislavskian methodical perfection or absolute ratshit. "Spike", the American bastard, can't act for shit while Saffron aims and shoots for the 1951 Best Actress Oscar. The resident Del Boy who sells homework for a quid a pop dazzles while Spike's hapless partner in crime seems like the producer's kid who had to fill in at the last minute.
The Awesome Theme Song:
Naturally, with everything produced in the early 90s, crude samples and cheaply synthesized everything were de rigeur. Think Pink Floyd's "Money" covered by Wham! with the cash registers replaced by typewriters and you've pretty much got it down pat.
Should I Watch It:
Absolutely. This knockabout slice-of-life dramady (barely) can be overwrought, underacted and cringeworthy at times, but it sure beats the shit out of T-Bag and the Sunstones of Montezuma, the microbudget pantomime wankery now looking painfully obvious in hindsight. Or first-sight, for that matter. You can also "lol" at the typewriters via Facebook. That'll learn those cheapskates for not forking out for a 286 with Windows 2.0 on it.
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In actual news, I spied a woman at work that looks exactly like Tweety from Merrie Melodies. No shit, she actually looks like Tweety. Its fucking bizzare.