PHOTO FINISH: Disco Info #PGat35

IMPORTANT: This review contains SPOILERS. Massive great honking ones. If you haven’t ever seen Press Gang (Seriously?! Are you a KD?!!!  What are you even doing here reading this, you fool?!  Click right on over to Amazon, buy yourself the complete series boxset and remedy that situation immediately before you read any further…) #CommissionsEarned

So we’re off and running, and Photo Finish picks up pretty much exactly where Page One left off. It’s now just three days to the first edition, and certain changes are apparent that one might expect to have taken longer than a day or so develop…

Lynda is already more focussed, self-assured and in charge, rather than just being bossy, and we see further evidence of her obsessive and somewhat selfish attitude to possessions. She is clearly stressed, but has developed coping mechanisms: the glorious use of the swear box, and her long-standing Rubik’s Cube habit. Having asked for help from Kerr and got none, Lynda applies herself to the task in hand with drive and determination. What she doesn’t know she’s making up as she goes. She’s well on her way to being formidable with her peers (see how everyone defers to her when the telephone first rings), although there is still the odd wobble here to remind you that she’s still a novice finding her way in an adult world: contrast the real flash of vulnerability shown when she fears Chrissie might tell Kerr about the phone with her steely “You’re dead Colin!” just moments later.

Spike and Kenny are huddled together as if they have been best buddies for years. This doesn’t really make much sense given their interaction in Page One, but presumably in the interim, they have shared a spiritual bonding moment, sparked by their mutual obsession with Lynda Day. Personally, I’ve never believed that it’s an unrequited lurve thing with Kenny, but nevertheless, he does appear to be totally devoted to her, at times to the point of stupidity. (We will see this beautifully illustrated later in Going Back to Jasper Street.) Of course, this doesn’t jive with the classic Harry Burns’ “men and women can never be friends” rule, but yummy Kenny is no ordinary man, and probably far too nice to even consider ever ‘doing the squelchy’ with his best friend. I fondly imagine Kenny and Spike’s relationship rapidly blossoming as they trade detailed observations about Lynda’s behavioural quirks. This would also be against Kenny’s better judgement naturally, since he is also far, far too nice to descend into bitching…

Whilst new and rather unexpected friendships are forming, we also see clear evidence of some long-standing bonds. After a fleeting introduction in Page One as a hapless and sometimes accident-prone journalist-in-training, Sarah Jackson is shown to be one of Lynda’s trusted friends. When there is real reporting to be done, Lynda and Sarah team up and head over to the Council offices, although a lack of chutzpah leaves them without the interview they desperately need. Even so, Sarah does a “lovely job” of creating something from nothing, giving Lynda her front-page story.  We witness a ‘girly’ side as they giggle together about the stupid boys, and Sarah is prepared to handle stressed-out Lynda, on hand with the Rubik’s Cube and a stopwatch when required. Despite this, however, Lynda still remains unwilling to lend Sarah her ruler…

Meanwhile, Bambi and Thumper are hanging out at Czars, where there is some chummy fist-bumping going on. These two are clearly very comfortable in each other’s company, although Frazz doesn’t really seem the ‘gang’ type.  Just who exactly manipulated who over the Disco-Info mission remains unclear. My older, less than innocent eyes now watch Frazz as he stares fixedly at Spike whilst they are in the phonebox, and a rather less conventional explanation presents itself… (Mind in the gutter? Moi?)

Back at the newsroom, Frazz has finally finished up his horoscopes. The collective, spontaneous teasing session by the “stars” is a joy (Haemoglobin, Tarmac, Helium, Zinc and Carbohydrate are all perfectly pitched), but Frazz will make them pay for poking fun at him.  Is “dopey” Frazz all just a clever act to deflect as much real work as possible? He remains studiously bewildered at their suggestions, but is he in fact having the last laugh? Despite his apparent confusion on the astrology issue in Page One, he’s clued up enough to make the “should have seen it coming” quip. Either way, Frazz obviously takes great delight in informing Lynda that Spike scored an interview Amanda Swanson, and is subsequently strong-armed into escorting Lynda to Czars to track him down.

Frazz as lazy-not-stupid is proved beyond reasonable doubt for me, since he is the one to have the eureka! moment, just prior to the full-on exposition outside the police station. Truly, the realisation should have been Sarah’s, being a ‘proper’ reporter in training, but instead it communicates something important about Frazz. (Personally, I think they should have tumbled the dodginess the minute they discovered that the owner of The Joint was named Jack Slade: a true gangland moniker if ever there was one, and clearly hired from the Bob Hoskins Looky-Likey bureau.)

When not being visually devoured by Frazz, Spike is honing his own reporter’s skills, although they mostly amount to getting the horns (he is clearly not concerned about appearing “cool” at all times) and charming meaningless denials out of middle-aged ladies. Spike’s first source of information is an ex-girlfriend. This is not a conventional journalistic approach to cultivating informants, but it is a network that will prove to be extensive. He’s managed to notch up an impressive string of girlfriends already, most of whom will still speak to him, and that’s no mean achievement. So why is he letting Miss Starch-In-Her-Tights walk all over him? It must be true vole. Humiliated in front of his mates (who?!) in Czars, it is all the more telling that even after yet another frankly extremely ungrateful put-down from Lynda, he openly rejects his old gang in favour of his totally fictional ballet classes. Clearly, even the idea of imaginary dancing with Lynda is too intoxicating to resist.

Hmmm. Dancing. Keep a watchful eye out, as Captain Subtext lurks around every corner just waiting to jump out and surprise you…