Weeds, well, it's just a sad, self-indulgent mess. It's like a clown that stopped being funny, so he put on more and more makeup to try to get the laughs back, but instead of laughing we're just sitting at home thinking, "That clown looks ridiculous. Remember when he used to be funny?

John Forsythe passed away just before Easter after a long battle with cancer and pneumonia, aged 92.

His enduring career in television started in the 1950s and took off once he began his association with Aaron Spelling as the voice of “Charlie” in Charlie’s Angels (including the later big screen adaptations).

Forsythe also had an Alfred Hitchcock connection, starring in The Trouble With Harry (1955) and Topaz (1969) as well as appearing in an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and it’s 1960s spin-off The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. Also, he was a founding member of the Lee Strasberg acting school and had a long and distinguished presence on the Broadway stage.

But it was Forsythe’s role as Blake Carrington in Spelling’s mega-deluxe supersoap Dynasty that brought Forsythe his greatest fame. In Dynasty, Blake was the patriarch of the filthy rich but intractably dysfunctional Carrington clan, made up of Blake, his second wife Krystle (played by Linda Evans and her windscreen-wiper hairdo) and the adult children he shared with his first wife Alexis, who appeared at the thrilling courtroom finale that closed season one (see below for more on this). As the series went on a next-to-endless list of previously unmentioned sons and daughters, cousins and the entire clan of the Colbys, who Alexis married into, joined the cast.

The show was devised to compete with smash hit Dallas (the pilot episode of Dynasty is called Oil) and in the underwhelming first season, Blake was continually battling various business rivals and men who wanted a peek at Krystle’s boobs. The show was not a huge success at first, but the moment Alexis (re)appeared on the scene, the show found its style and focus.

Alexis became Blake’s main nemesis, and their never-ending hostilities became the main plot base of the rest of the life of the series. Alexis’ enmity for Blake was driven by their bitter divorce, part of which included a clause where she was never again allowed to see their children (a clause which evaporated somewhere between the divorce and the beginning of season two) and her enduring but well-concealed love for him, which she admitted in season seven when Blake recovered from the amnesia he had been struck with when an oil rig he was inspecting in the South China Seas exploded, and Alexis had to hand back all the contracts and documents she’d gleefully taken ownership of by fooling hospital staff that she was still Blake’s wife - something he had concurred with as while under the influence of his amnesia he could not remember anything before 1964. Under attack from an angry Blake Alexis confessed that part of her strategy was that she had a chance to once again be his loving wife.

But, their egomaniacal competitiveness was beyond debate as their two business empires (his: Denver Carrington, hers: ColbyCo, which she inherited when she married Cecil Colby at his hospital bed seconds before he died) were the two largest corporations in the state of Colorado and were continuously in competition for every major contract and business deal that took place anywhere in the world. Their rivalry went even further such as in season eight when Blake and Alexis ran against each other for election as Governor of Colorado just to spite each other, while at all other times anything from boardroom confrontations, accusations of various murders and mutual strangulation attempts (true) ensued.

Over-the-top Reagan-era glamour was the order of the day, starting with the opening titles (replete with its trilling, dynastic music and images of popping bottles of Champagne and spewing oil derricks, polo ponies and limousines, diamond necklaces, fur coats and so on), continuing with Nolan Miller’s legendary gowns (by season three the budget for each episode of Dynasty exceeded one million dollars) and the completely excessive list of guest stars that included Charlton Heston, Barbara Stanwyck, George Hamilton ex-president Gerald Ford and most famously, Rock Hudson, whose kiss with Linda Evans as part of a minor romantic subplot between their characters in the 1984 season became a sensation when it was announced soon after the episode aired that Hudson was suffering from AIDS.

Dynasty was the number one rating program in the United States for 1984 and 1985 and won the Golden Globe for Best Drama Series in 1984 (it was nominated every year in that category 1981-1986). Forsythe won five Golden Globe nominations for Best Actor in a Television Drama and won twice (1083-84) and Linda Evans and Joan Collins each won a Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Television Drama (in 1982 and 1983, respectively) but by the late 1980s, times started to change and television viewing habits changed with them. Dynasty’s prime time quickly came to an end, and the show was axed in 1989, the year working-class sitcom Roseanne took the number one spot in the ratings.

Anyway, back to John Forsythe and an interesting tidbit: each episode of Dynasty ended in a cliffhanger scene, announced via dramatic freeze-frame. From his decades in the game, Forsythe understood the critical importance of appearing in these scenes, and it written into his contract that Blake would appear in every episode’s final scene, for the run of the entire series. This proved to be a most prescient move come season two when Joan Collins as Alexis quickly and permanently shoulder padded barged her way past Forsythe to become far and away the show’s biggest star to the point that she/Alexis became the embodiment of all that was Dynasty.

Blake and Alexis’ endless sparring was fundamentally archetypal and not a little cartoonish, so it was, I think, the ever-evolving plotline involving his relationship with his gay son and only male heir Steven who was originally played by the handsome Al Corley (pictured below) which was the most compelling dramatic thread of Blake’s character arc, and the one that gave Forsythe his best opportunities in the series to show off his acting.

(Al Corley as Steven Carrington)

As Dynasty ran pretty much in tandem with the calamitous early years of the AIDS Crisis, the series’ creators made decisions regarding the presentation of Steven Carrington that were, variously, daring and cautious and as a result Steven’s sexuality and relationship with his father proved to be as predictable and consistent as everything else in the show, which at one point ran a plotline that had Carrington daughter Fallon abducted briefly by a UFO, and another that had Krystle locked in an attic for several episodes while an identical impersonator of her (known as Rita) operated maliciously in her place. Steven Carrington was one of the first gay characters with a major role in the ensemble and narrative of a prime time television show, and his relationship with “companion” Ted Dinard (played by Mark Withers) was one of the major subplots of season one.

That first year, Blake refused to accept his son’s homosexuality and would not have a bar of Ted Dinard and banned Steven from seeing Dinard or letting him anywhere near anyone or anything to do with the family. In an episode late in the first season, Blake arrives home to the news (delivered by a waiting maid and butler) that Ted Dinard is on the premises - inside the Carrington family home! Already fuming that Steven had introduced Ted to various infant members of the Carrington clan, a livid Blake barks that he will “kill him” and pounces up several grand staircases to find Steven and Ted talking in a room together. All three men wrestle, with Blake shoving Ted so hard that he falls and hits his head on the brass fender of a fireplace, dying instantly, as you can see here:

Corley left the series early in the second season, unhappy with the whiplash shifts in his character: from gay to bi to straight, to straight out of most of the episodes. He was replaced by dashing but not quite as sexy Jack Coleman, who had previously appeared in Days Of Our Lives (before Dynasty, Corley had been a doorman at Studio 54). The difference in Steven’s appearance was explained by plastic surgery required after yet another oil rig explosion. This rather contrived plot point brought the all-over-the-place first season of Dynasty into instant focus with Blake’s arrest and subsequent trial for Ted Dinard’s murder cinching the season’s final few episodes around the season-ending courtroom climax that feauted Alexis arriving unannounced, at the very last minute, to deliver incriminating evidence against Blake.

(Incidentally, it is quite clear from the scene that the Alexis that strides into the courtroom in then-fashionable black and white panels and veiled hat is not played by Joan Collins, just as the Alexis in most of the fight scenes was not played by Joan Collins either, but actually a male stuntman. In the clips below, the one on the left is the arrival of Alexis at the very end of season one, and on the right, if you freeze-frame at 3:53, you’ll see a drag queen standing in for Joan Collins that is slightly less of a drag queen than Joan Collins ever was.)

Season two was a very busy one for Steven, who kicked off the year by getting drunk and falling into a pool, hitting his head and nearly dying and rekindling his father’s affections as he convalesced in hospital, where he meets Krystle’s niece Sammy-Jo (Heather Locklear) but also feels drawn back to Claudia (Pamela Bellwood) his fag-hag/girlfriend from season one. On Alexis’ advice, Steven proposes to Claudia but she has since fallen in love with transient character Matthew Blaisdel, and old flame of Krystle’s (who returned six seasons later with a team of mercenaries from Central America to take the entire Carrington family hostage inside the Carrington mansion in order to win Krystle back in the season seven cliffhanger.) Steven returns to the arms of Sammy-Jo and they elope, much to the fury of Alexis and Blake.

Quick aside: An earlier scene where Sammy-Jo, having downed one too many flutes of champagne at her own wedding reception before hitting the dance floor with no embarrassment before being dragged off the scene by Alexis, is compulsory viewing:

The marriage between Steven and Sammy Jo was short-lived, and towards the end of season two Steven gathers the entire family together at the Carrington mansion to announce that he has had it with the Carrington ethos, is gay and intends to live life in his own terms:

“I’m a homosexual, Dad,” Steven said. “I’m gay, and I want you to face it, and say it. Say it: Steven is gay.”

Jack Coleman took over the role in season three, where Steven initially refused to return to Denver (he was convalescing in an Indonesian hospital after the oil rig explosion) but does so when he learns that Sammy Jo has had their baby, Danny, which she has promptly abandoned so she can pursue her modelling career in New York. Way ahead of the times, Steven became a gay parent by moving back to Denver and setting up home with Danny, which was fine with everybody until Blake suspects that Steven’s relationship with his live-in attorney was more than a room mate arrangement. Blake sues for custody of Danny. A court battle in season four sees Blake arguing that a gay cannot be a good parent with Steven countering that Blake is in no position to judge as he was only just on trial himself for murder. Steven wins out by marrying Claudia after she promises to adopt Danny.

Season five: Claudia and Steven divorce after he tells her that while he loves her, he also loves and is involved with a male colleague, Luke Fuller, putting him and Blake at odds yet again, especially when Steven announces that he will be taking Luke as his date to new-found Carrington daughter Amanda’s wedding to Prince Michael of Moldavia, a small European principality. In the first episode of season six, we learn that Luke was killed in the famous Moldavian massacre cliffhanger that ended the previous season (Ali MacGraw was the only other victim despite the entire cast taking bullets). Steven and Blake reconcile as Steven helps Blake through serious personal and business problems, and in season seven Steven and Sammy-Jo reconcile for Danny’s sake, initially on a platonic basis but enjoy a sex scene in an episode late in that season.

In season eight, after Steven has rescued the entire family from Matthew Blaisdel and his henchmen and acted in various other honourable ways, Blake appoints him acting head of Denver Carrington, but as season eight progresses Steven’s conflicts over his sexuality continue, and he tells his father that he is going to leave Denver and the family business to move to New York to regroup and reconsider. This episode featured a tentative resolution of Blake and Steven’s many ups and downs with their final conversation ending with a tender hug between father and son, and Blake telling Steven that he loves him. It also featured the extraordinary exchange about AIDS (another prime time television first) that can be seen from 6:45 in this clip:

Though I guess Forsythe refused to say “AIDS”, he obviously didn’t mind the writers transferring that word to Steven’s dialogue, but with considerable powers of veto on set, Forsythe evidently had no problem delivering what at the time was the well-intentioned (if not entirely exact) anti-gay-hysteria statement: “I’m talking about a disease that kills. It’s no longer just a gay disease. it doesn’t matter whether somebody’s gay or straight - it’ll catch up with you if you’re not careful. Son, I love you.” This beautiful scene - hampered only slightly by the heavy hands of the writers - brings the relationship of father and gay son full circle, with Blake concerned for Steven, and not entirely happy about his son’s homosexuality, but certainly more empathetic than he had been in this classic scene from season one:

It’s a journey that many fathers are forced to make, and John Forsythe’s Blake seemed to travel along it as well as he could.

Rest In Peace, John Forsythe.

By Tracie, 8:00 PM on Tue Sep 8 2009, 14,797 views (Edit, to draft, Slurp)

For the premiere of the fifth season of her talk show today, Tyra wore her real hair. Then she sat down to interview Perez Hilton and pretended like she doesn't read his site or hate his guts.

OK, first of all, this:

Tyra came out with her natural hair completely wet.

And she had audience members come up and touch it.

The lesson here was: "Wigs and weaves are options, not something that you need."

Then she got a blowout and had it styled, and continued on with the show.

Perez came out.

I know, right? For real:

(That's cereal milk on his chin, BTW.)

Tyra referred to him as "The King of Blogging," even though she told him, "I'm not very familiar with your site…" Bull. Fucking. Shit.

That post was the seed that her manure developed into the tree of knowledge that is "Kiss my fat ass!"

She even knows his nicknames for her.

Tyra tried to get Perez to admit that he'd been teased as a child and that's why he grew up to be such an angry asshole. He wouldn't though. Then she tried to strike a deal with him. She asked him to not make fun of the underage children of celebrities for one year. He refused.

Then she knocked it down to three months, but he wanted an "out clause."

Then they agreed that he would only post "newsy" content about celebrities' children, and he'd leave opinion out of it. He would have to do this for three months, and if he followed through, he would get to appear on a future episode of ANTM.

It would seem that he didn't stick to the deal. It's kind of a relief though, that he won't be appearing on Top Model, though.

Coming up this season on Tyra:

Holla for clip-ins!

The demise of Big Brother resembled the funeral of a much-loathed relative, at which no one really knows what to say. At weddings, there's always "you must be very proud", but when you simply can't trust yourself to deliver "he'll be sorely missed" convincingly, the risk of blunder looms large. And so it was with Channel 4's rich-but-racist uncle of a show, where the uncertain tribute that occurred with most embarrassing frequency in the obituaries was: "Is this the beginning of the end for reality TV?"

The most gauche of inquiries, unless it was deliberately designed to join the annals of majestic Daily Mail headlines to which the answer is always no (see "Are we being run by a lesbian mafia?", "Is this the face of Christ?", "Are giant squids invading the UK?"). Far from signalling decline, Big Brother's passing marks the coming of age of reality TV, and more specifically its audience. Not in a good way, obviously – it's all exactly as predicted in the Book of Revelation – but rest assured, the genre has much bigger brothers to fry.

For all its initial technical innovation, Big Brother had looked terminally unsophisticated for a while. If people wanted to watch adults dressing up and play silly games, there was CBeebies. Even the manner of its departing reflected the show's debilitating tameness. It wasn't axed, it was simply "not renewed", in the manner of a road tax disc or membership of Worthing library.

Yet reality TV is more dominant than ever, providing both the BBC and ITV with their season tent poles. Phone voting thrives, despite the scandals. At America's Fox network, evil genius president of alternative programming Mike Darnell continues to spew out Octomom specials and current hits like More to Love, wherein plus-sized contestants look for love, the better to reflect back to themselves the obese neophiles he believes make up his audience.

But most significantly, Reality, as in the genre, has made extraordinary incursions into reality, as in the place we all live (with a few notable exceptions like moat-encircled Douglas Hogg MP and Trudie Styler). Indeed, there has been such a weird shift in relations between these two notional spaces over the last few years that people have continually suggested that reality needs to borrow the clothes of Reality in order to exercise any kind of hold on the popular imagination.

Back in the 1890s, Oscar Wilde remarked that the increased prevalence of London fogs was entirely down to the Impressionist painters, and that sunsets were beginning to imitate Turner's paintings. Life, he opined, was a failure from the artistic point of view, and so it has often seemed in the age of real life programming. A few years ago it was vogueish to sigh that more young people voted in Big Brother than did in general elections. It wasn't true, of course, but had the much more important ring of truth, and so it was that Simon Cowell began to be touted as the man to revitalise politics. Naturally, Simon is busy – too busy to accept a recent invitation to meet with Barack Obama – but a few months ago he gave an interview in which he declared he wanted "to give politics the X Factor".

Think he couldn't do it? If only Simon shared your doubt. Consider Afghan Star, the Kabul-based imitation of American Idol. "The fact we're allowing the public to make the decisions most of the time is a really good thing," Cowell mused of the format. "The great thing is when you start seeing it in places like China and Afghanistan. It's democracy. We've kinda given democracy back to the world." Liberation via pitchy R&B vocal: a worthy successor to the shock and awe doctrine.

We might well be raising an entire generation who will not understand anything unless it is presented as a three-judge talent show, but it is an odd paradox that such stagey artifice should be the most popular way to make something feel real. Similarly, there is a reason young people are given to sexting and filming themselves having sex and all those other modern pursuits many of us are far too ancient to fathom – and it is not that they have discovered the erotic potential of crappy camera phone lighting. They don't appear to regard sex as having happened unless it has been committed to a format which makes it easily distributable to a feedback-giving audience.

Elsewhere, the blurring of the boundaries between Reality and reality feels even more sinister. In a previous column about surveillance culture, I mentioned that the Shoreditch Trust trialled a scheme in which residents of two rundown estates were given access to live CCTV footage of their communal areas, and were encouraged to watch them to assist policing. This week, the author James Harkin noted that the council's report on the trial had found that "viewing figures for the scheme were as good as that for primetime, weekday broadcast television".

So it's fair to say the Big Brother legacy lives on. Sure, we've seen the heyday of cloistering fairly attractive people in McMansions. But just as the early makeover shows eventually became surgical makeoever shows, so the format has given way to real Big Brother, while year nine are gripped by your daughter's fellatio technique, and the Idol franchise is taking credit for overthrowing the Taliban. If anything could make you nostalgic for Davina and friends, it's Reality 2.0.