Reality Television.

So I watched England’s pitiful display tonight. I didn't turn the game on till fifteen minutes gone, by which time it was already 2-0 to Croatia. I decided I was gonna stay in and watch the game at home rather than going to the club. I then promptly fell asleep and didn't properly wake up till half time.

After the break I started to get into the game, slowly moving towards the edge of my seat and by the time we got the (not a) penalty I was standing right in front of the tele. As soon as the penalty went in I ran to the club (apparently my month and a half non-smoking has had an affect) and watched the rest of the game there.

Bollocks is all I can say. England always do this to me. They worry the shit out of me, then they convince me they’ve got it in the bag and I relax and think all is going to be ok. then they just freck with my head and it all goes to shitezen.

So bollocks to all that.

Anyway the reason for this post is that after the game I was in the club and on the tele was the most recent shockingly bad reality television programme, hosted by Tit and Dick or some such.

This got me thinking about reality TV in general and this is when I had my revelation, or epiphany if you'd prefer. it goes like this.

'I'm a Z-list celebrity, please don't slaughter me'

The Concept: A group of has been / wanna-be celebrities and dropped off in the jungle and have to interact with each other for a week. At the end of the week the viewing public decide which of the group will be entered into the 'running man' style game, where the chance of survival is about ten percent.

If they die, they are shredded and are sprayed over the remaining 'contestants' However, if they survive they are moved onto the promised land or the 'Island' as it is sometimes called. This however is main 'DRAW' for the audience. Because if they survive the game they are drugged, or 'put to sleep' and then sliced up by our expert but eternally angry chief, then feed back to the remaining contestants as they next few meals.

To be fair the subsequent seasons of the show will have to be named 'I'm a z-list celebrity please don't slaughter me then feed me to my new friends' but I think it'll be a huge hit.

Lates

Attack Of The Clones?

I went shopping the other day. Not an awe-inspiring piece of information I'll grant you, but as I was trekking around the small city that is bluewater I noticed a few things and decided to tell you about them.

Now I am unfortunately no longer young, I mean in no way can I be considered old, its just that I am not up to speed with yoof culture and thus fashion. To be honest three inch ties and having your trouser tucked into your socks, to me, just seems stupid, but I accept that I may just be out of touch. However what I noticed during my trip to the axis of evil (for this read Bluewater) is that everyone under the age of 19 was wearing pretty much the exact same thing, obviously there was a difference between the boys and girls, although pink seems to be a highly sought after colour for the boys as well now - I'm definitely out of touch.

I walked past a group of three girls wearing the exact same trainers and trousers, hair the same and their tops only noticeably different from a distance of less than 5m. But these girls although, especially similar, were not alone, pretty much each person in all the groups I saw was wearing at least one item of clothing that was identical to another member of their group.

Now I chuckled to myself as I went around, feeling that I was better off being out of touch with this bold and individual fashion revolution that seemed to be sweeping the nation (for this read axis of evil), however as I went shopping in the shops I like, searching for clothes for myself, I came to a shocking realisation. Every shop I went in had clothes identical to the previous. The colours of the ‘season’ were the same, the same materials were prominent in them all, and I suddenly realised that I was in danger of become a clone as well, not of youth fashion, but of Twenties and Thirties Post Indie, Snowboarding Retro Individualism. I stopped and sat outside New Look and decided there was a real danger of there soon being very little difference between me and the yoof clones (bar the fact that I will always think that pink is a girl’s colour) . I decided there and then that I needed to go dead man clothes shopping and get away from these huge shopping empires that seemed to want everyone to dress the same. Of course there's always going to be the danger that I just become a Anti-Establishment Charity Shopping Clone, but that's a risk I think I'm going to have to take.

I'll keep you posted.

Rant Over.

Freckin' Composters

I hate computers.

It is twenty past five on Tuesday morning and I have had enough.

All I want it to do is some simple rendering on a simple five minute film.

But can it do it? Can it Freck.

I've lost the entire film once so had to start over and now it keeps getting stuck half way through the ten minute process of producing the bloody thing.

If it wasn't for the fact that it weighs quite a lot, and I'm completely knackered, I swear I'd throw the whole thing straight out the window.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrah.