I Watch Television So You Don't Have To.
Idiot 1: An amazing motorcycle crash there. You wonder how they walk away sometimes.
Idiot 2: Well they are trained for it. And they have quite a lot of padding.
Idiot 3: Up next – can ‘art’ be ‘too popular’?
It’s only eight in the morning.
And the above – completely genuine and verbatim by the way – has been the morning’s highlight.
I’ve got the mid-morning waking-hell of that dreadful thing with the footballer’s wife and that awful AWFUL man – the one that the strangely-likeable cocktail-maker so obviously wants to knock-out – to look forward to which will probably be followed by at least 36 hours of Formula One coverage.
I can switch channels and watch Paul-McCartney-Looky-Likey Angela Lansbury solve some surprisingly alarming suburban crime or look at a bronze-coloured man sell some tat to fools.
A completely un-ironic news item concerning the lack of ‘pond-life’ in Great Britain bothers me for a second. We ‘need more ponds’ says a very earnest-looking man in a green polo-neck.
I turn the television off. I look at my watch.
Two whole hours. I want to kill someone.
People look at me with amazement when I tell them I don’t often watch television.