12" Reservoir Dogs:
Nice Guy Eddie

Despite his lack of a "color name" such as "Mr. Pink" or "Mr. Orange," Nice Guy Eddie was one of the more colorful characters in the ultra-violent film Reservoir Dogs by Quentin Tarantino. Chris Penn's Eddie was a mysterious mix of loving son and cold-hearted killer, loyal friend and criminal mastermind, and calm "problem fixer" and furious mob boss. Chris Penn is the brother of Sean Penn, a mysterious mix himself.

The Nice Guy Eddie 12-inch action figure is part of the first series of Reservoir Dogs action figures from Palisades. Eddie was a ToyFare/Musicland shared exclusive, meaning that he was available as a mail-away figure through ToyFare magazine and also in the retail stores of Musicland, including Sam Goody, Suncoast, Media Play, and On Cue. The otherSeries One figures are Mr. Brown, Mr. Blonde and Marvin Nash. Series Two will be Mr. Orange, Mr. Pink, Mr. Whiteand Joe Cabot. (Mezco Toyz is also making Reservoir Dogs action figures, but they are a different scale.)

The Nice Guy Eddie action figure began life with the same articulation as the other 12-inch ResDogs figures, but due to his heavier build, lost most of his waist articulation. Rather than give Eddie a padded shirt to simulate his extra girth, Palisades gave him, for lack of a better term, a fat suit. If you remove Eddie's windbreaker, you can see that he has two pieces attached to his torso (front and back) to fill him out.

Eddie has the following articulation: twisting and bending wrists and feet, twisting forearms, biceps and thighs, double jointed knees and elbows, ball-jointed shoulders and hips, and a neck joint that is similar to a ball-joint. As mentioned above, he has a waist twist, but the range of motion is limited due to the "fat suit." Eddie's body is molded in a very light flesh tone and his hands and head are painted to get a more realistic tone. (This paint can rub off from wear, especially at the wrists.)

If you have ever eaten too much at Thanksgiving dinner and had to drive home with your pants unbuttoned, you can appreciate Eddie's pants: they were made for a regular-sized action figure and don't quite reach around his waist. As a result, if you unzip his windbreaker all the way, you get the amusing site of seeing his pants with the snaps unsnapped. Aside from the waist issue, the pants are nicely done, made from a lightweight denim material with contrasting threads for the seams, and with a visible crease ironed down the front of each leg. Eddie's windbreaker is a gem of a garment in this scale: not only is it made from the right kind of fabric with multiple-panel construction, it is lined, and it also has elastic around the bottom. Eddie's boots are the same boots as Mr. Blonde wears.

As with the other 12-inch ResDogs figures from Palisades, Nice Guy Eddie has stand with a Reservoir Dogs logo. The stand has a staff in the back that supports a ring, which can go around the figure and keep him from taking a dive from your favorite display shelf.

Eddie also comes with a "pack of smokes," a loose cigarette, a lighter, a watch, a snub-nosed .38, a .45 automatic, and a shoulder holster. As you would expect from seeing the film, Eddie is dripping in gold: a necklace, a bracelet, and rings on both hands. (The rings are sculpted on, but the necklace and bracelet are chains.) Most amusing of all, Eddie comes with a a cell phone. Not just any cell phone, but a scaled version of the big giant "old school" cell phone appropriate for 1992, when the film was released. The Matrix was released a mere seven years later, but can you imagine that film with cell phones the size of Eddie's?

12" Reservoir Dogs:
Nice Guy Eddie

Jim Shelley laments the demise of the Bill

Jim Shelley's Screen burn: The Bill

'Characters like Tosh were axed. Old-school coppers were replaced by strippergrams'

I love The Bill. I make no bones about it. I'll come clean. I'm renowned for it. Hence, here I am. Tragically, I'm here not to write about my love for it, but about its death. This week (Tue, 9pm, ITV1) it is murdered, by ITV.

This will be episode 2,400, and in a personal or professional capacity, I have probably watched all of them. I must have spent weeks, months of my life watching The Bill. (I know what you're thinking: "Oh, lucky man.") This is probably the biggest commitment I've ever made to anything.

The rewards, though, have been both spiritual and munificent. For example, I have a pretty nifty collection of memorabilia that's been sent to me by The Bill press office. I have a large toy Bill black Maria. This came accompanied by an Action Man-style uniformed driver that – to my eyes – looked suspiciously as if it was based on PC Viv Martella. I carry a Bill warrant card with my name on it in my wallet. And I have several years' worth of The Bill Christmas cards, some of them helmet-shaped (police helmet-shaped that is).

And now, on Tuesday, it's over. It's the end of the series. The end of the affair.

Never again will we able to glory in south London's rich tapestry of "toms", "nonces", and "tea leafs". Never again will be-hoodied youths slouched on their bikes muttering about "gak", "skets" or "feds" kick off on the Jasmine Allen estate. Police car chases ending up on some wasteland in front of the O2 Arena are at an end.

ITV has been trying to fuck up The Bill for years. It began by killing off its most popular characters – Burnside, Carver and Tosh Lines; Reg Hollis and Tony Stamp; that blonde PC with the sexy sneer (no not June Ackland) – and replacing them with an array of pouting, thrusting nymphomaniacs.

Suddenly old-school coppers with names like Don, Frank, and, um, Jim were replaced by PCs called Honey, Suzie and Amber who looked like strippergrams. The show was moved out of its traditional 8pm time slot to make way for Champions League group games between Arsenal and Lille.

Then the format was changed so that instead of some local "scrote" stealing an old lady's handbag, storylines would involve organised gangs of swarthy Albanians smuggling in sex slaves, tonnes of cocaine and rocket launchers. Sun Hill became the crime capital of Europe.

Not since Star Wars or the Sugababes has such a successful franchise been so wholeheartedly messed up. In the final act of incompetence, ITV replaced what was arguably the best, most recognisable theme tune on telly. (I once saw the police raid a block of flats on Ladbroke Grove accompanied by a bunch of kids singing The Bill's famous music at them.)

But The Bill was indestructible, and evolved into a mix of Casualty, The Sweeney and Kidulthood; something that both reflected and became part of, British life.

Not since Hill Street Blues was any show so easy to watch. It was dependable and always attracted a following of five to six million-plus. Unlike other soaps and "serial dramas", the acting was always naturalistic and convincing. As for the storylines, some have been thrilling, chilling stories of serial killers, child abductions or paedophiles – so juicy and dark and corrupt you wondered whether the writers of The Shield knew how tame they were by comparison. Others – like this week's finale – are almost humdrum in their portrayal of life on south London estates where gangs, stabbings, and violence towards young girls are commonplace.

The series ends with the heroic veteran superintendent Jack Meadows telling a press conference, "Unless there are any questions, I think that's about it." Smithy and Sgt Stone head for the pub. The arresting DC Grace Dasari gives an enigmatic smile.

The station lights are still shining, but you feel you have just watched a terrible injustice take place.

I loved The Bill.

Theatre Knights Production- Richard III

BELFAST BASED DRAMA COMPANY THEATRE KNIGHTS
HAVE BEGUN REHEARSALS FOR A PRODUCTION OF
SHAKESPEARE'S RICHARD III.

VENUE AND PERFORMANCE DATE
TBC. WATCH THIS SPACE.

FOR MORE INFO CHECK OUT:
http://www.theatreknightsbelfast.co.uk/