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<pre><pre>A sexy dream is no fun for the Game of Thrones star: PATRICK MARMION reviews A Midsummer Night & # 39; s Dream

CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews last night TV: If celebrities were swaggering a sport, the Big Yin would win gold

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Billy Connolly & # 39; s Great American Trail

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Rating:

The Dog House

Rating:

Billy Connolly is a nuclear force denominator. Staring at a statue of Elizabeth Montgomery, the star of the creepy sitcom Bewitched, he mused: & I met her once at a party in L.A. – she was a friend of Elton John. & # 39;

If celebrity swaggering was an Olympic sport, Billy would have just won the gold medal.

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Not only does he let us know that Elton is a buddy of him, he is so blasphemous that he seems to be more impressed by sharing cocktail snacks with a 1960s TV queen. And parties in Los Angeles. . . isn't everyone going there?

If celebrity swaggering was an Olympic sport, Billy would have just won the gold medal.

If celebrity swaggering was an Olympic sport, Billy would have just won the gold medal.

If celebrity swaggering was an Olympic sport, Billy would have just won the gold medal.

He was visiting Salem, & # 39; the Blackpool of Witchcraft &, at the start of his travels in Billy Connolly & # 39; s Great American Trail (ITV). When we saw him reflect on memories of his Ultimate World Tour at Christmas, he composed epitaphs for himself and complained about the weaknesses of old age.

But instead, he was here, enjoying the privileges of aging and naughty flirting with the prima donna of a witch covenant.

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She clearly woke the socks off of him, even though he was ten years older. "I'm 86," she planned and added, "You are a very handsome man. I bet your wife says that. & # 39;

Billy beamed. If the old sorceress had offered him a cup of Love Drink No. 9, he might have succeeded on the spot.

He was meant to celebrate the achievements of Scottish immigrants in the United States, such as the original Uncle Sam – a businessman from Clydeside who somehow became the face of the US military recruitment posters.

Uplifiting quote of the night:

Presenter Nick Knowles finished on a very positive note on DIY SOS: Celebrating 20 Years (BBC1). "Many people think that the community does not exist today," he said, "but everywhere we go people come to help." Three cheers for that.

Occasionally Billy remembered what to do. He took us to Ellis Island, off the coast of New York, for a view of the Statue of Liberty, just like the & # 39; huddled mass & # 39; s & # 39; saw it for the first time from their busy transport ships.

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But most of the time he walked around, smiling, smiling like a Glasian Dalai Lama, saying what nonsense came to his mind.

In Cape Cod he met a marine biologist who invented a drone, called the Snotbot, that gathers humpback whale DNA by flying through the exhaled air from their blow holes. I loved the air shots of a mother and her calf, unaware of the camera cuddling in the water.

He then went to a bingo party thrown by cross-dressing nuns who call themselves the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. They named Billy their pope. It was rather pointy, but nobody else makes travel stories like His Eminence Pope Big Yin the First.

Just like dotty was a Staffordshire terrier named Zeus, one of the stars of The Dog House (C4) – a spy documentary about unwanted pets looking for new families.

He was a rubber ball of a dog, ricocheting off the walls and constantly bouncing in the hope of getting some affection. When he met 6ft 5in Paul, a 40-year-old man in a wheelchair, they immediately fell in love.

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Zeus did not know if he wanted to make somersaults, tickled his belly or sat down on Paul's shoulder, so he tried to do all three at once.

It was the kind of TV that scares you to laugh out loud in case you burst into tears.

The Dog House is a simple idea, nicely done. It is formal and occasionally forced, but inevitably you want to adopt every street dog in the show.

And the last shot, by Paul and Zeus sleeping wonderfully together on a sofa, underlines why so many people claim that a dog is truly man's best friend.

Unless, of course, your best friend just happens to be Elton John.

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