I’ll be keeping this one snappy, largely because I have nothing notable to say, smallly because…well, no, the first reason is pretty much the whole reason. That being said, I have thought about the following things in the last unspecified amount of time:
1) Egypt. Damn.
That whole revolution thing is not going entirely to plan, is it? It appears that the attributes required to be in charge of Egypt appear to include “willing to kick the shit out your own countrymen with carefree enthusiasm”, which is a bit of a bugger really. A bit like in Syria the lack of action from the rest of the world is outright pathetic, presumably because Egypt has nothing of immediate value to plunder. Hopefully it’ll calm down after the elections. That might be a bit optimistic…
On the plus side, I firmly believe the continuing unrest in Tahrir Square presents a great opportunity for the BBC. They’re desperately trying to make Eastenders more exciting, from the look of the incessant ads their current strategy is to bring back the whole cast from the last 20 years. Fuck it, just move the set temporarily. Albert Square meets Tahrir Square. Tagline: done. I’d double my licence fee to see Phil Mitchell looking like a haggis and calling everyone around him a slag in a hail of tear gas and rocks.
While we’re at it, I think Songs of Praise would be much improved by the same move. And I’m a Celebrity, of course. Any other suggestions?
2 X-Factor is the crack cocaine of the television world
I’ve just watched a weeping man with a bizarre and can’t-put-my-finger-on-why resemblance to Matt Lucas be publicly humiliated and rejected in favour of a child with candyfloss instead of hair. I was gripped. I’ve been gripped throughout. I was gripped through the montage of last night’s show, even though I watched last night’s show. I willingly allowed Bryan Adams onto my television.
I’m addicted to something I hate and would normally chastise others for mentioning. Life is hard.
3 Mondays are a terrible idea
Maybe 5 years of being a student have made me a bit soft, but I’m becoming increasingly scared of Mondays. Which is odd, because I like my job and I like going to work, but on Sundays I always feel like Monday is waiting outside to bundle me into a van, beat me with a blunt object and eventually burn my shattered body on a patch of wasteland. There’s a strong chance I’m the only person in the world who feels like this, but it needs to be said nevertheless. I already yearn for the student days where a week was a novel concept and periods of time were strictly delineated by when we were getting plastered next and when the next essay was due in. Those were good times.