'lost' live blogging part one

Okay, in the interests of journalistic enquiry and faced with the prospect of a cripplingly boring night in on my own with a distressingly three-quarters empty bottle of wine, I am forcing myself to watch three episodes of Lost. Four episodes if you count the fact that I watched the hour long synopsis of the first series, which, robbed of the dramatic tension of the individual episodes, revealed hilariously that there was precious little character development, serious narrative or events of consequence over the lengthy series.

But never mind that. We're half way through episode 1 as I type. Episode 1, Season 2, that is. I really hate it, by the way, how since bloody 24 and all those long running, fucking-boring American shows got big we've had to resort to calling everything 'season two', rather than 'series two'. I had a good laugh when I saw the DVD of Extras advertised as 'Extras, Season One'. Anyway.

10.40. Right now lots of people are lowering themselves into a hole in the middle of the Island, which appears to lead to the kind of supervillain's lair, deep underneath a dormant crater, which you find in 1960s spy movies. They are trying to escape from 'The Others', which is a bad Nicole Kidman film. Meanwhile the weird little kid, who is supposed to be kidnapped by pirates, appeared in the middle of the forest, gasping for breath and dripping with water. My theory is that Sawyer flushed his head down the toilet.

It's all gone a bit quiet and ominous now, and people are saying things - in the deeply tedious flashbacks - which we are I suspect supposed to find eerily prescient. "I'll see you in another life, brother", one says. Oooooh. Or in an underground lair?