Friday, February 18, 2005


Influenza v Daytime TV

Sell your junk and move to Spain.

I’ve had flu for a week. As well as being an opportunity to feel really sick and useless, it also provided me with a chance to catch up on daytime TV. Which was more rubbish?

Auctions and junk sales are on all the time, every day. Not 'programs about antiques'. People selling broken toys and fake Royal Doulton in the rain under the supervision of ‘experts’: “Tracy Island – always a popular seller”. “The cuddly toys should sell for £3, if you wash them”.

Any member of the public on daytime TV who isn’t selling [or buying] junk is being shown nice bits of Spain or France (‘southov’) with the intention of making it worse by their presence. Spain is the British equivalent of Florida. And Michael Howard is worried about foreigners being a burden on the British health service? [Note: this reference to Michael Howard has been checked by the Daily Mail and the Evening Standard and has been rated as only mildly anti-Semitic. Therefore, it can be printed here. Although, if you talk about it when your drunk after a party, you may be in trouble. The connection between Florida and seafood is plain for all to see. You can’t pretend you don’t know what Judaic law says about shellfish].

Other thoughts on daytime TV:

(1) Steve Davis is on it. He talks much too much about ‘cuing’ and ‘confidence’ (No! Snooker is about potting balls. There’s nothing else to say.) and much too little about incredibly daft 70s prog-rockers Magma, his first love. What does it say about the world when a man spends all his time fabricating psychobabble about why snooker-players are or are not potting balls when he could be celebrating the great god Ptah? Has Steve forgotten the words of Christian Vander?


Perhaps we can raise subscriptions for the purchase of a machine to recite phrases such as “I think Ebdon is cuing as well as I’ve ever seen him” and “Hendry is the best break-builder in the game”; leaving ‘the Nugget’ free to dedicate himself to the worship of Ptah. Gibbering lightly in a made-up language. In a cave in Essex.

(2) The activities of Whitely continue, without any obvious impediment. Is there nothing that can be done?

(3) Final thought on daytime TV: Why does that Richard Madeley bloke sit around all day with his gran?

I, too, have been sat at home feeling poorly these past few days. What I had didn't really deserve to be dignified as "flu", although the symptoms were all there, absent only the mild derangement.

The maddening sterility of daytime TV is an injunction to leave the house and do something. Which is what I tried to do today. I tried to buy trousers, but return home confused and upset by the assumption that I want to wear jeans that were last worn by a tramp whose dying wish was to fall in some paint.

Oh, and I disagree about Steve Davis. Snooker is about nothing other than the struggle between man's brain and the natural propensity of snooker balls to fall into pockets.
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