Today’s proverb: “A watched pot never boils.”

Frying tonight. Turkey it was. Only 9 minutes, in theory, so I needed to put the potatoes on first. Boiled the kettle, while heating a little water in the saucepan in preparation for a steaming. Waited, and waited.

And waited.

Eventually I noticed that the red light that indicates when hob is on wasn’t. Turns out the breaker had tripped. Reset it and set about cooking dinner.

Fortunately the turkey was just done and the potatoes suitably cooked when the fuse blew. I didn’t noticed initially until I began to question why the vegetables weren’t coming back to the boil. The fuse box turned out to be hotter than the peas.

There is, I’m afraid, no helpful moral to this beyond not having shonky electrics.

I am suffering the withdrawal symptoms already. Crisis is perhaps too big a word to use, but it’s pretty bad.

As I was leaving work today, I omitted to pick my mobile phone up off my desk. Result: one-and-a-half hours until I got home with no email, no ability to read or write blog posts, check train times or catch up on the news. And, obviously, no way of receiving phone calls or sending text messages.

Back home now I can at least make calls from the landline or Skype (although I only know a handful of numbers – the rest are in the Contacts section of, yes, my mobile). What would I do without modern technology?

My Nokia and I will be reunited in 14 hours. At least I have a new DVD from LoveFilm.com and BBC Two’s Thursday night comedy to take my mind off things.

In other news, I’ve written a piece for Liberal Democrat Voice analysing from a LibDem perspective Unlock Deomcracy’s new report on local politics.

I was planning to watch the second episode of the annoyingly-titled The Amazing Mrs Pritchard this evening to see what all the fuss was about, but now I see that More 4 is starting to show flaccid American drama Commander in Chief tonight at exactly the same time. Having caught an episode before (in the way one catches a cold, which coincidentally I had at the time) I’m not expecting great things, but I’m tempted to take a look at the first episode to see if it started any better. (Oh – they appear to be making a TV movie.)

In a similar vein to Mrs Pritchard, opening this Friday in the US and appealing to those who think that Jon Stewart should become President with Stephen Colbert as his running mate (look at the comment on Daily Show clips on YouTube – these people do exist) is Man of the Year , a film about a non-politician who runs for President. Except rather than being a female supermarket manager he’s a male Daily Show style comedian. No idea when the film will open in the UK – not for a while at least, so you’ll have to settle for Jane Horrocks and Geena Davis for the moment.

James Graham’s review of last night’s More 4 film Death of a President is spot on. His summary – “utterly pointless” – is the same conclusion I reached. Here’s a review I posted up last night for Daily Kos readers.

UK digital television channel More 4 this evening transmitted the first broadcast of Death of a President, the controversial new film showing a dramatised assassination of President George W. Bush. The movie has already been rejected by two cinema chains in the US, where it opens on October 27.

In October 2007, President Bush attends a speaking engagement in Chicago. As he departs, a sniper shoots him several times and he dies in hospital shortly afterwards. Those all-too-terrifying words “President Cheney” take effect.

Some deft video and picture editing mattes together genuine footage of Bush with protagonists who also appear as talking heads, reflecting on the events. But is the film disrepectful, and, more importantly, is it any good?

For such a dramatic fictional event, it’s a remarkably dull film. Presumably to give it as much gravitas as possible and to duck accusations of sensationalism, all excitement and tension has been wrung out of it. Whereas a documentary about what might happen if Bush were killed – however foreseeable to most of us – could be interesting, most of the film is a tedious whodunit, focusing on the attempt to identify the shooter. The storytelling device – characters talking to camera, recalling the events and the investigation – is painfully slow and struggles to retain the viewer’s interest.

The fallout from the assassination doesn’t require much imagination, and for the most part the film goes along with the expected consequences: predictably, the writer chooses to introduce a Muslim suspect and Middle East intrigue; tougher snooping laws are quickly enacted. However, a scene of anti-war campaigners cheering when they hear the President of the United States has been killed stuck out like a sore thumb. Shock would be the most likely reaction, surely, even for the most militant protesters, not celebration.

There were so many different ways to deal with the subject matter that it didn’t need to dramatise the murder of a real, living president. It felt gratuitous, whether it was or not, and left a bad taste in the mouth for the rest of the movie. Bush’s fictional speechwriter recounting her prayers with Laura Bush at the hospital seemed particularly tasteless, as was the reuse of Cheney’s Reagan eulogy for Bush.

Did I learn anything from the film? No – because it was entirely fictional. Did I enjoy it? Not really – it was flat, paceless, and obvious. Regardless of the rights and wrongs of showing the killing on grounds of taste and respect, that the result is such a tedious missed opportunity is what makes it hard to justify.