I’m sure folks are scratching their head and wondering who Sylvia Lennick is … here’s the incipit of her obit in the Globe and Mail:

Sylvia Lennick, the last surviving member of the Wayne and Shuster comedy troupe, died this morning of complications from pneumonia in Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre. She was 93.

A stalwart presence for decades as an actor and singer on Canadian radio, stage and television, Ms. Lennick got more applause than the headliners when the troupe appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show in May, 1958 with a performance of “Rinse the Blood Off My Toga,” a Dragnet-type crime skit in which Mr. Wayne, as private eye Flavius Maximus, tries to finger Marcus Brutus, played by Frank Shuster, for the murder of Julius Caesar. As Calpurnia, the bereaved widow, Ms. Lennick brought the house down at rehearsal and then with viewers when she repeatedly wailed, “I told him, Julie don’t go,” a line that was picked up across the country and is still synonymous with her name.

Which, of course, provides us with yet another opportunity to share this:

The Independent has a review of Tom Payne, Fame: From the Bronze Age to Britney … here are some excerpts:

[…]

The teacher’s first book, Fame: From the Bronze Age to Britney, published next week, is set to do for classics what Harry Mount’s much-lauded Amo, Amas, Amat … and All That achieved for Latin in 2006 – the updating of a fusty subject for a modern audience, by forging links between the ancient, classical world and our modern, celebrity-worshipping culture. The book asks what Big Brother tells us about Athenian democracy (the nomination process can be fixed in both cases, he argues), and ponders that ancient poser, beloved of Herodotus and Heat magazine alike: “Why does anyone want to be famous?”

[…]

Working on “his hunches”, Payne spent the summer of 2006 reading his way through history books and a stack of celebrity memoirs, including biographies of Daniella Westbrook and Jade Goody. The author soon began to see links between different celebrities’ stories; particularly, he says, the doomed careers of Michael Barrymore, Paul Gascoigne and Leslie Grantham. “I saw this crime, punishment and regeneration pattern,” he adds.

Payne’s book’s title is taken from its first chapter; and it is here where the basest human tendency to criticise and revel in the misfortune of celebrities – particularly in the case of Spears – is explored. Her famous hair-cutting incident, lit by the flashbulbs of the world’s media, is comparable, claims the author, to the tales of human sacrifice as told in Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis, in which hair is cut from the victim’s head, symbolising their path to self-destruction.

And the celebrity comparisons continue…. Can we think of anyone who has recently had sex with a celebrity, potentially in order to further their own career (clue: their one-time conquest rhymes with “Rude Bore”)? “There is always a steady spate of these social climbing situations in the British tabloids, and the best equivalent I can think of is in Ovid’s Art of Love,” says Payne. “He discusses how people often try to have sex with people higher up the celebrity ladder than them, or pretend to have done so, to make themselves better than they are.”

He gives another example: “Michael Jackson famously had problems with a lady who claimed to have had his child. It is amazing how ordinary people believe that they get value from sleeping with someone who might be just a little bit more famous than them; it’s almost like a badge of honour to claim you’ve had sex with Wayne Rooney.”

Such thoughts also emerged in Greek myth when Dionysus became angered, after his aunt Agave claimed that his mother Semele had never slept with Zeus. “She taunted her sister by saying Zeus never shagged her,” concludes the author. Gah – it could almost be Chinawhite on a Friday night.

… I think I definitely need to put this one on my “to read” pile; I wonder if it’s being published on this side of the pond?

• Root of celebrity bashing can be found in Rome

See also Mary Beard’s review in the Guardian:

• Fame: From the Bronze Age to Britney by Tom Payne

… and Christopher Hart in the Times:

• Fame: From the Bronze Age to Britney by Tom Payne

TV Squad is looking at some up-and-coming shows and the Spartacus series is one of them. Here’s some info on Lucy Lawless’ role:

During the Spartacus panel, Lawless was asked if she’s going to be naked during the first season, as the show involves a lot of sex scenes. “I’m afraid so,” she said. She plays Lucretia, a “proprietor of a camp for gladiators.” She takes up with a gladiator in the hope of having a baby. It’s tough for her to do those scenes because, while she tries to keep in fantastic shape, “when you get on set, you get the ‘freshman 15’,” she told the scrum afterwords.

Near the end of the scrum, I asked her if she thought a certain fanboy segment (coughXenacough) will be happy to see her nude. Her response included her experience seeing Caligula when she was a teenager. Say one thing for Lucy; she’s not the demure type.

In the “more than we need to know” department, apparently the show utilizes a prosthetic for when the various gladiators appear nude. Yes, that kind of prosthetic. “We had to create the ‘Kirk Douglas’, as it’s aptly named, so people had a prosthetic they could wear,” said EP Rob Tappert. Lawless said they hang it up in the prop truck “next to all the merkins.” Must be a fun set.

… there’s an audio clip at TV Squad (with Lawless) with a few more details … clearly this ain’t yo daddy’s Spartacus …

Amicus noster Tim Parkin posted the Yes Minister thing from yesterday and a comment therefrom suggested tracking down another episode with a bit of ClassCon … ecce:

… the discussion of “meta” is just after the six minute mark … if you don’t want the ‘context’, this one’s a bit shorter …

While poking around to see if there was a way to make links to the Colbert Report more ‘universal’ (i.e. via Youtube) I came across this funny Yes, Minister clip (I used to watch this show … can’t recall ever seeing this episode) … there’s some good Latin stuff here (after a couple of minutes of introduction) … this is what happens to Classics majors when/if they grow up: