British documentaries have long seemed to place a premium on on the physical attractiveness of their female presenters. I first noticed this a couple decades ago when a local college station broadcast a series to teach Greek. The hosts were a Greek leading lady and a schlub of a BBC reporter who couldn’t keep his eyes off her, lost in the blackness of her eyes and the china-like perfection of her bosom. When I managed to draw my eyes from her perfection I noticed he probably hadn’t learned a word of Greek, either, and didn’t care. But I chalked my reaction to a “youthful indiscretion” (Like my congressman Henry Hyde I was forty-one, a mere child).
Time went on and I discovered YouTube and its many British documentaries that were perfect to help me sleep. Battlefield’s sonorous music put me right out–I still don’t know who won at Kursk. Michael Wood’s endless lists of Dark Age kings was like counting sheep all named “Stan.” Baldric’s nasally honks were not enough to make three-day archaeological digs which found nothing but Northumbrian mud interesting enough to keep me awake.
But there were others on the list that caught my eye, first and foremost being shows presented by Dr Suzannah Lipscomb, whose screencaps always feature her angelic, blonde ringlets and a red dress she seems to have been poured into. Pure hubby service, ensuring that men and women both can enjoy “Hidden Killers of the Edwardian Home,” and I know I’m being played, but I stay played because she knows her stuff. Housewifery has never been safe and those shows are full of EEEK! moments.
The other day, having not been able to sleep all night, I turned to someone I hadn’t tried before, Lucy Worsley, OBE and her “Fit to Rule” miniseries. I came to it completely uninterested in the British royal dynasties and Ms Worsley, while elfin cute, is not the sort of manufactured knockout Lipscomb is. I thought I’d be able to sleep.
Nope. Turns out she has a filthy mind, which I find endlessly attractive, and is ready to dish on any Stuart or Hanover who comes her way. Especially as she’s a curator of their homes. From her I learned that James I/VI (depends on from which side of The Wall you hail), besides making a solid effort to be the Father of His Country, had an ongoing thing with the Duke of Buckingham. Remember that this is the sponsor of the book that proves to American fundamentalists that Jesus spoke English with a Scottish accent and gives them all the reasons to hate the gays. A fascinating story, and one it was hard to sleep through, but one that asks, “Does the Religious Right know about their boy, Jamey?” Discuss.
Meanwhile, Wikipedia sez, “She contributed to five episodes ofThe Secret Life Of: for theYesterday Channel.The series was designed to give ‘tabloid treatment of historical icons’and includes an episode where Lipscomb and co-host Lucy Worsley’ revel in these raunchy titbits’ about Henry VIII’s love life.” Oooh! Raunchy Tudors and if it’s about tits I’m sure Henry is first in line. OTOH, I need something boring to help me sleep tonight. Quantum physics, for instance.