Today is the 1st of September. Summers coming to a close and I've began to feel a certain comfort watching the night creep up and cover up the sun so early. It's admirable in knowing that soon we can become comfortable outside, wrapped up in warm clothing; coats, scarfs, hats and cloves. It's also a good date - the 1st of September because Big Brother wraps up soon. I'm not a basher of 'Big B' but I'm also not a lover. I don't stay in every night fixated on my telly box watching Bum Face pick his nose then wipe it on the florescent sofa to later hear Smelly Bollock moan and complain about the already exacerbating situation that they are all in. What with next years being the last, I do hope someone actually ticks over one day and commits several sever cases of brutal murder.
I tend to watch Big Brother when I really cannot be bothered to lift my fingers or it just grabs my attention at that moment in time. It then becomes enjoyable for me to point and laugh at these people, it also gives me to think about what I would do if I was a housemate. I would go to the kitchen were Spade Face is making some toast to which I would then begin making conversation with her, I would then wiggle in the fact that Twat Mouth has been talking about Spade Face behind her back. OMG! Gossip unfolds. Bull shitted, stirred up twoddle made up by me. I'd then pour myself a bowl of Frosties, sit back on the boggie cover sofa and wait for the fireworks to erupt. Don't hate me for it, everyone loves watching a bitch fight.
Another Channel 4 reality-wank-stain-show is the prep infested Shipwrecked. My hangovers are made worse when I turn on my telly to find these pretty faced 20 something twats bumble around on a beach. I don't really understand the premise for this show - sadly. At first I thought it was some kind of 21st Century televised Auschwitz programme. I was hoping we could call in and vote for the Plank we wanted gassed. But no, it becomes what can only be described as a partially scripted soap opera or the menstruation of Lost. This creation is like watching two TV executives run into each other at high speed whilst one of them holds a copy of the latest Jack Wills catalogue and the other holds a copy of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. It's a disgusting. If I was given the chance to be the producer of that 'programme' I'd still keep the format pretty similar, just change a few little bits here and there. Firstly, I'd cover the beach in landmines, hidden in the sand. This will really make them think is a twatish beach party is really worth a member of The Sharks losing a limb in a horrific explosion. Next, each day I would release a new creature on the island - I think I might this part a phone in thing, may as well make some piss pennies whilst I'm in charge. Each week a new animal/creature would be shipped on to the islands to join the contestants, they would range from a large collection of poisonous spiders to a wild and hungry tiger. Like I said, the public can phone in and vote the animal they would like to see prowl the island.
That could teach those blank, wooden pretty faced bellends a thing or too about going on 'Gap Year' or 'Finding themselves.' Pricks.
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