<p><span style="font-size:19.5pt;"><font face="Verdana">CBS Drama brings back Alexis Colby and the Eighties bitches</font></span>

<span style="font-size:10.5pt;"><b><font face="Verdana">With a new TV channel showing only America’s hottest Eighties soaps — from Dynasty to Falcon Crest — it’s time to celebrate Alexis Carrington Colby, once the finest role model a girl could have</font></b></span>

<span style="font-size:7.5pt;"><b><font face="Tahoma">Caitlin Moran</font></b></span>

<span style="font-size:9pt;"><font face="Verdana">When I was 16 I got the top of my head permed. Just the top. Just the first three inches of the roots. “It’s not something I’ve ever done before,” the hairdresser said, doubtfully. “You sure you don’t want me to just perm all of it? That’s what people usually have.”

“No,” I replied, quietly but firmly. “Just the first three inches, please.”

I was getting the top of my head permed because from the age of 14 — when I had started watching Dynasty — I had realised that there were just two kinds of people in this world: those whose hair grows vertically out of their scalps, like some fabulous conflation of candy floss and the Guggenheim Museum; and those whose hair grows in a limp, tragic, downwards direction — essentially making them gravity’s supplicant bitch.

The first kind of people were called Alexis and Fallon and Sable and Krystle, and the expansive weightlessness of their hair matched the expensive weightlessness of their lives. They wore furs and smoked fags, and stood around in doorways hissing “You bitch”, before striding off to seal some billion-dollar deal, in their jet. In the late afternoon, for relaxation, they would change into one of their 240 peachcoloured silk negligees, and have sex with a chauffeur in the stables before eating something exotic, such as pizza, without disturbing the surface tension of their lipstick.

The second kind of people were, well, me, on a council estate in Wolverhampton. My straight, downwards-growing hair marked me out as someone who would not be getting on a jet, wearing a fur or screwing someone over in a business deal/in a stable any time soon. Indeed, not just marked me out, I suspected, but actively prevented me.

So that’s why I was getting the first three inches permed. To finally train the roots, and make the hair grow up, instead of down. To take the first step — the day after my 16th birthday — to become like those fabulous, unstoppable bitches on Dynasty.

I hardly need tell you that, when the hairdresser finished, I looked like a confused poodle trying to blag its way into a Bon Jovi gig for three hours, and then the perm dropped out completely — leaving me £7 poorer, and haunted by the memory of hot Mathew Neild having spotted me at the bus stop, and laughing at me as he ate a portion of Wimpy fries.

This memory came swimming to the surface last week, with the launch of the CBS Drama channel. On seeing its schedule, I realised, retrospectively, that it was CBS shows that I, and my ever-present clutch of seven siblings, were raised on. CBS was the prime locus of the big-hair shows of our childhood: Beauty and the Beast, Falcon Crest and Dynasty, which we were so intimate with that we referred to it by the loving nickname “Dinners”. Looking at the listings, I could practically smell the setting fluid, wafting all the way from 1989.

God, we worshipped these shows — unaware, at the time, of the roiling insanity at the heart of every one. Because in the 1980s, US television was mad. Mad. But as kids, we just accepted it all. A hotshot corporate lawyer who falls in love with a psychic half man, half lion, who lives in the sewers of New York (Beauty and the Beast)? A billionaire oil family in which the patriarch’s estranged ex-wife lives in a cottage at the bottom of the garden (Dynasty)? Well, why the hell not? Who knew what the adult world was actually like? Quite possibly, these would all be scenarios we would ourselves experience, one day. There could be dozens of people dealing with this kind of thing, out there. Probably not in Wolverhampton — but possibly in Birmingham, and almost certainly up in That London.

Sitting down last weekend for a CBS Drama marathon, I was surprised to discover that, even after 22 years, I could still remember the opening monologue from Beauty and the Beast, delivered by “The Beast” — Vincent — in his ponderously husky voice: “Her name is Catherine. From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart with her beauty, her warmth . . .”

“And her breasts!” I shouted, automatically — our traditional response back in 1987.

God, it’s a weird show. The essential set-up is that there is a half man, half lion (Ron Perlman) living in the sewers, pining after a lonely society chick, Catherine (Linda Hamilton from Terminator). There obviously being a limited number of social occasions when a man-lion can meet a highflying lawyer, Vincent and Catherine have cutely hooked up after an horrific attack leaves her with severe facial lacerations by the side of the road. Vincent takes Catherine to his sewer lair and sews her up — his somewhat primitive handiwork reflecting the fact that he presumably has paws, with no opposable thumbs.

On regaining consciousness, Catherine pulls back Vincent’s cowl, and gasps as the reality of his freakish appearance is finally revealed. Yes, that’s right: he has dry, auburn hair, just like Carol Decker from T’Pau. “How did this happen to you?” she asks, staring at his half-man, half-lion face.

“I have no idea,” Vincent replies, as viewers are compelled to yell, “Your mum done a lion, Vince! She seen the lions at Longleat, innit!” at the television, while rolling their eyes.

For the next two series, the majority of Catherine and Vincent’s relationship is carried out in a haze of intense, unconsummated sexual tension — Catherine’s reticence presumably being at least part-founded on the fear that Vincent makes out cat-style, and will try and do her on the shed roof at the bottom of the garden, while making a series of unpleasant shrieking sounds.

Watching it now, Beauty and the Beast looks like the forerunner to the current, highly lucrative Twilight franchise: a psychic, pining, non-penetrative beast, who is obsessed with an otherwise outcast and lonely girl. I could see exactly how I loved it as a virginal, socially outcast teenager. As an adult, however, I found it about as much fun as dry Weetabix. And, anyway, I was only watching Beauty and the Beast while waiting for the big guns: Dynasty and Falcon Crest. Come on! Shoulder pads! Earrings so big they make your head look like a mug tree! Film stock so strobingly orange that when Blake Carrington sits down behind his desk it’s hard to tell where he ends and £10,000 of teak begins! Proper telly.

Within five minutes of Falcon Crest beginning we’ve already had the line “Don’t you remember? You have amnesia!” and an extended aerobics session from two major cast members in impeccable lip gloss, which ends with Apollonia (yes! The one who worked with Prince!) saying, “He was playing on a video game”, in incomparably withering tones. There’s also a sexy priest battling with his vows and losing, big-time, by having sex with a racy lady.

“You have a very ... large parish,” his bishop counsels him, as the sexy priest buttons up his shirt. “It can’t be helped with ... all-night counselling sessions.”

Over on Dynasty, meanwhile, the sweet, handsome and incomparably dumb Jeff Colby is being poisoned by the wallpaper in his office, which has been impregnated with a fatal compound by Adam, his long-lost evil brother. Adam is a complex character — on the one hand, master crafter of fatal decor, on the other, seemingly hot for his long-lost mother, Alexis Carrington Colby. But then, what person on Earth would not be mesmerised by Alexis Carrington Colby? — who is, was and will continue to be simply the greatest woman television has ever made. Compared with all other women we saw on television in the 1980s — downtrodden fishwives running market stalls, clad in dun-coloured anoraks in EastEnders — she was a far more appealing role model. Alexis did stuff. Alexis got results. Alexis had hair as big as a badger. Sometimes the stuff and the results were quite bad — such as the episode when she rigged herself up in tartan plus fours and what we came to refer to as “The Tam O’Shanter of Evil”, and made Krystle miscarry by shooting at her horse — but at least she was proactive, and had a bit of pep about her. She didn’t just sit around like a pudding, drinking tea and moaning about Ozcabs.

And, my God, to a houseful of fearful, virginal teenage girls, that woman’s technique around men was a revelation. Watching her in action was like observing the Horse Whisperer reel in a mustang. Instance: having resolved, quite practically, that she must marry the trillionaire Cecil Colby, Alexis invites him over to her cottage. Answering the door in one of her six million peach-coloured negligees, Alexis beckons Cecil to the chaise longue, offers him a slice of, what was then, exotic pepperoni pizza, lights a fag, and then goes right at him — fag held aloft. The ensuing sex scene is surreally lengthy — maybe two minutes, a lifetime in drama — and appears to involve Cecil Colby and a stuntman in an Alexis wig humping on the floor, up against a wall, under the coffee table and, finally, in bed.

“How was it, darling?” Alexis purrs, lighting up another fag, as Cecil lies there, breathless, and sporting a thatch of chest hair so dense that when, later in the series, Fallon’s baby goes missing, it’s hard not to believe it might simply have got ensnared in the area around Cecil’s nipple.

To us — and, I think, to be fair, the writers — the male characters in Dynasty were, by and large, shadowy, stunted and sidelined creatures compared with the women. Although we were aware of Blake (“Scary. Old”) Jeff (“Beautiful. Dumb as a box of hair”) and Stephen (“Is he gay in this episode, or has he gone straight again? I can’t remember”), really it was all about the chicks. Primarily Alexis — who is shot like a goddess, and clad in a series of definitively hot frocks, shoes and hats — but also Blake Carrington’s long-suffering wife, Krystle.

God, as children we hated Krystle — apart from the episode when she got a brain tumour and went mad, hurling plates down the corridors of Carrington Mansion intoning “Dinner is served! Dinner is served!” over and over again. We would often recreate that scene, on picnics.

At the time, it was just the general dislike that children have for characters who are “nice” — but, watching it again now, I see it must also have been some early feminist survival instinct kicking in, too. Krystle is just a spineless punchbag — albeit one with absolutely incredible tits, and hair in the shape of a Swiss skiing lodge. Halfway through the first series — when Blake has gone hysterically blind, and wanders around the mansion bellowing “Watch the blind man rage!” — he finally locates Krystle, by touch, has a quick chat with her, and then rapes her. I know. Amazing. Not only is this treated as a minor narrative incident, but, the next day, Krystle is doe-eyedly forgiving Blake, and even snuggles up to him. Yes — one of those post-rape snuggles that everyone loves. What a div. That tumour couldn’t come quick enough.

Having spent the weekend with CBS Drama — essentially the wardrobe back to 1980s Narnia — I realised that the average age of the women in these dramas is almost double that of modern shows; presumably why we found it so comforting, back in the day. After all, if you’re a confused teenager, it’s of no use to you at all to watch other, confused teenagers. You want proper, old-school, Hollywood-style broads who have been round the block a few times — Alexis Carrington Colby becomes a grandmother seven episodes into her first series: not something you can imagine happening to the main character in the biggest TV show in the world today. On top of this she keeps her clothes on, gets her groove on and never, ever whines: a weekend of watching her is, in a world full of anorexic ingénues, like being given a shot of whisky by Lauren Bacall.

I’m not entirely sure of the scientific validity of this but, since last weekend, I’ve been backcombing my hair a lot. It’s kind of ... growing up.

CBS Drama (formerly Zona Romantica) is on Sky Channel 149, Freesat 135

</font></span>

<span style="font-size:7.5pt;"><b><font face="Tahoma">http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/tv_and_radio/article6934802.ece</font></b></span></p>

I'm not interested enough in Alexis to read all that, but I do wonder if they'll be keeping Y&R on the new channel.

Days of Our Lives starts at 9am, The Young and the Restless at 10am.

[!@#$%^&*]...I read all of that hoping "Ooooh I hope my cable company picks that channel up!"

[!@#$%^&*]...I read all of that hoping "Ooooh I hope my cable company picks that channel up!"

Gotcha!

It's good to hear they aren't sacking the soaps. I remember a friend with contacts in the UK told me ABCUK (I forget the real name, ABC1?) dumped General Hospital although it was one of their highest rated shows. They wanted to rebrand the network or something. Very odd because after they dumped the show the network went 24 hours so they clearly had timeslots for it. They started airing with the hotel fire and my friend loved it. She remembered it from the 80s.

Took me forever to realize this is about a UK channel now connected to our CBS. No wonder the article author called Dynasty a CBS program when it was on ABC here.

Just checked out the website for the channel, which was formerly called Zone Romantica, and I'm glad to see they are still showing Guiding Light, at the strange hour of 2am. Looks like they are on 2006 episodes - the "Inside the Light" era!

Edited November 29, 200916 yr by jfung79

It's good to hear they aren't sacking the soaps. I remember a friend with contacts in the UK told me ABCUK (I forget the real name, ABC1?) dumped General Hospital although it was one of their highest rated shows. They wanted to rebrand the network or something. Very odd because after they dumped the show the network went 24 hours so they clearly had timeslots for it. They started airing with the hotel fire and my friend loved it. She remembered it from the 80s.

Yeah, it was called ABC1. I went to DigitalSpy once and was shocked at how much they enjoyed GH. They loved Sonny. It boggles the mind.

Fun read, but awwww man, I got a rhinestone-studded boner thinking this was news about the new project Joan Collins has been so hush about! It's funny how quickly the mind works, I figured they were incorporating Alexis into some CBS primetime show. Have you guys seen her makeover reality show from the UK?:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lizE_xFWZiI

Edited November 29, 200916 yr by SFK

It's good to hear they aren't sacking the soaps. I remember a friend with contacts in the UK told me ABCUK (I forget the real name, ABC1?) dumped General Hospital although it was one of their highest rated shows. They wanted to rebrand the network or something. Very odd because after they dumped the show the network went 24 hours so they clearly had timeslots for it. They started airing with the hotel fire and my friend loved it. She remembered it from the 80s.

Yup, GH was really popular for such a small network, (ABC1), but they dropped it in favour of constant sitcom repeats and when they started losing out on acquisitions to the bigger channels they quickly went downhill and off the air. To this day I'll never know why they didn't think to show the entire ABC daytime lineup, including The View, and some older primetime stuff. It makes so much more sense. I did love that they brought 8 Simple Rules, Less Than Perfect and Hope & Faith to my attention, though (even if the constant repeats quickly made me lose interest)

Took me forever to realize this is about a UK channel now connected to our CBS. No wonder the article author called Dynasty a CBS program when it was on ABC here.

Just checked out the website for the channel, which was formerly called Zone Romantica, and I'm glad to see they are still showing Guiding Light, at the strange hour of 2am. Looks like they are on 2006 episodes - the "Inside the Light" era!

It really annoys me that CBS Drama/Zone Romantica is only on Sky and Freesat. I have VirginMedia and we don't get it, only CBS Reality (yawn)

No wonder the article author called Dynasty a CBS program when it was on ABC here.

Technically it is a CBS Program. Almost all the rights to Aaron Spelling shows are now owned by CBS/Paramount.

And remember the Catfights and Caviar reunion aired on CBS too (which galled some fans) under Henry Winkler's production company.