Christmas in a Parallel Universe

This was labelled "Phil Collins".

I'm currently polishing off the last of the Christmas booze - a bottle of Martini Rosato - and listening to one of my presents, Peter Gabriel's covers album Scratch My Back. It's very good, but that's not what I want to talk about.

While making suggestions of things to my mum of things that I might like for Christmas, I mentioned the above. Mum didn't asked who Peter Gabriel was, and this has since struck me as fortunate. How does one describe who Peter Gabriel is? More to the point, how does one describe anything in modern pop culture to people whose touchstone in such matters is Law & Order: Criminal Intent?

On Boxing Day, while Mum was arranging prawns on a plate, Dad and I got into a discussion about the state of television comedy. He quite likes Mock the Week, and had decided to try to Frankie Boyle's Tramadol Nights. Bad mistake. A conservative 70-year-man is unlikely to be amused by something his liberal-minded youngest offspring - that's me, by the way - found depressingly childish and mean-spirited. He questioned whether there was any good comedy still being produced. Yes, I piped up, citing the first example that sprung to mind. There's a programme on Channel 4 called Peep Show. The face he pulled at mention of the title was a picture.

Would you allow this man
near your parents?

I described the premise of the show and its POV gimmick, and he seemed genuinely interested. Then I remembered watching the Christmas Special the previous night. I wasn't concerned so much by the identical discussion Mum and I had in the kitchen about cauliflower being a traditional festive vegetable, or that Mark had been presented with a cross-cut shredder as his big present, something Dad has requested and received several years earlier. No, it was the fearsome spectre of "coarse language" raising its head.

Adult children squirm when their parents are presented with material they are perfectly old enough to experience. Our parents have been around a bit. They've seen things you people wouldn't believe. But that doesn't mean that we want them to hear Isy Suttie using the word "strap-on". Because then we'll have to explain what that means, and that's not a conversation anyone wants to have.

Over the past year, I've taken to combing through the Radio Times each week, looking for film the parents might enjoy. This has yielded some interesting results. Mum liked The Red Balloon, as anyone would, but was also impressed by Slumdog Millionaire - and took some convincing when I told her the director was a white Manc - and Batman Begins, which I suggested she think of as a crime thriller rather than a superhero movie. Anyway, Batman has no superpowers other than the power of being incredibly neurotic. Tim Burton's version should have been played by Woody Allen.

Dad, meanwhile, expressed an improbable enjoyment of Serenity. This news came to me second-hand, unfortunately, so I have no idea what he liked about it. The backstory to the Reavers, I expect. Everyone likes that bit.

In any case. I've started going through the BBFC website, looking for any recommendations I'm not sure about, since I often can't remember whether or not that terrific comedy has an explicit sex scene, or someone having their head blown off in close-up, or someone calling Bruce Willis a cunt, even if he is.

Not Suitable for Parents.

I'm not sure it's supposed to be used for that, but it has been a bit of a life-saver already.
"GoodFellas is a really great film, I think you'd really like it."
"OK. Does it have much swearing?"
"Um... hang on a mo."

Shallow Grave is on later this week. It's a tough call.

Tomorrow, if I remember, I'll put up the TRON Legacy review I've been threatening. Yeah, I thought you'd be looking forward to that.