We are, it has been intoned, heading for the deepest recession Britain has faced since World War II.
Of all of Europe, Britain is braced to bear the brunt of the economic melt-down and with all things fiscal turning to jelly, I am reassured, courtesy of a clutch of women’s magazines, that the only thing I can count on in the next three years is “developing deep furrows around the mouth and eyes.”
Age, it seems, is the one constant – the bugbear that refuses to pause, oiled by the inexorable march of time.
Which is why the rebirth of the A-Team arrives as an irksome herald – once aspects of your childhood become cinematic renaissance vehicles, the wheels of time suddenly grind a little harder.
Set for release in 2010, I wonder whether it will bear the cheesy hallmarks that rendered it so satisfying the first time around: the man’s man agenda, the obligatory female eye’n’arm candy, and plenty of explosions and beefy cars, The A-Team represented the final throes of male chauvinism and hammy action.
Last year I succumbed to the DVD box set, and while in the 1980s I would squeal with delight as the episode unfurled, I wondered whether it would hold the same appeal.
Sure, my inner feminist cringed as the latest hot-panted kitten would coo and demonstrate a range of pretty, but not productive, poses, but on the whole the tacky merriment pervaded with Murdoch remaining my favourite (and Mr. T. a close second).
The 80s was a decade characterized by capitalism, wars, strikes, and economic turmoil – is it possible that in times of woe we cannot help but look to the past?
Either way, the chance to relive our youth is too good to miss; I just hope the remakes will retain the degree of kitsch that made them such guilty pleasures the first time round.