This morning I awoke at an unfeasibly early hour [I’m supposed to be enjoying long lazy half-term days, goshnessdammit] and, having waved The Blokey bub-bye as he headed off to work [oh yes, in the obligatory gingham apron with mop in hand ready to do the kitchen floor], I decided to enjoy a Pepsi [my laziness stopped me from putting the kettle on] whilst sitting in front of the tellybox. Now that we have Sky [instead of NTL, which is good because there are more exciting channels to choose from, such as Buy This Useless Object For A Ridiculous Price!, Ooh Text Me I’m A Bimbo Presenter With No Personality!, Phwoar, Look At The Gear Stick On That (And Those Tits Ain’t Bad Either)!, and We Show The Crappiest Made-For-TV Films That You Are Ever Likely To See!] I chose, as most good Sky users do, to watch some terrestrial channel. Five, I believe it was.
Tricia Bloody Goddard to be precise. I sat through forty-five minutes of the most excruciating pain. I was appalled at the way she patronised her guests. I shuddered at the fact that some of the things she came out with could surely only make problems worse. I laughed at her audacity as she brought her own problems into the equation.
In short, I wanted to slap her smug face. Not that I’m a violent person.
Suddenly I became appalled at the way I was able to sit through it. I wanted to slap myself. What does it say about me that I can sit through forty-five minutes of mind-numbing chav trash? It’s not even exciting … where were the fisticuffs, the swear words and the I-can-see-your-arse skirts?
I feel ashamed.
I also feel ashamed
[Big Brother VI alert, please scroll down to a more reasonable topic of conversation if BB threatens the very core of your being and makes you want to vomit]
that I wanted to slap Makosi last night. Does she know how to play the game, or does she know how to play the game? Mary and Craig? Come on! The two that I like the most. Damn the girl. When she’s nominated I shall vote for her.
[I’ve finished talking about BBVI now …]
I have a public apology to make to The Baby Brother – the front garden still needs weeding. I’ve been busy, yes? The rain has come down at the most inopportune moments [usually just before I decide to pop outside and do some pulling]. There are people/children/dogs/dustbin-men outside who might laugh at my clumsy gardening skills. Someone might even talk to me. Eek!
And speaking of dogs, everybody in FlatHickTown has one. Except me.
And yeh, I may well creep out and pull up some weeds this afternoon. If I can force myself away from the brainwashing of daytime telly-vision …
please God bless the weeds xxx Elsabeth