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Bollock. Not quite totally bollocks, but definitely at least one...
OK, so I finally managed to get onto one of the Sony people... lovely Irish people they are... anyway, it turns out that Sony Vaio do this thing where XP is on their recovery discs. The discs that have been sat a foot away from me all naffing weekend. I could've sorted this out days ago. I could've prevented World War Six and a Half. I could've had the fucking Sims 2 on a faster computer.
The world is an unfair place, my pretties.
And I woke up this morning to find a house with NO DIET COKE. NO COKE PRODUCTS OF ANY KIND. (although I think we have some tonic water by Schweppes, which is owned by Coke I think. Not the same at all). This means many things, not least that I am dying, nay dying of thirst, but that I'm also going to have to change out of my PJs, get dressed, put my shoes on and go buy some Coke. *dies*
I wouldn't mind ever so much, but I ended up eating chicken soup yesterday for dinner because we had nothing in the house not frozen solid that I like even at all... we seem to have run out. I mean, there was no pasta... my favourite sauce but no pasta to put on it. Meatballs, but no pasta. I ended up at half twelve watching Sharpe's Honour (still trying to give it a chance) eating cherry tomatoes on their own. The combination of little food and no Coke is going to play havoc with my very delicate system. I say delicate, I've actually got a stomach that's probably lined with asbestos, but it's a delicate system based on a fragile balance between Diet Coke, crisps and mortadella. Without those things, I don't know what will happen.
That said, this evening heralds the long-awaited return of *drumroll* NEVER MIND THE BUZZCOCKS! Yes indeed, life will, at 9pm this evening, make sense once more. I know most of you have no idea what I'm going on about, that it is silly to be so emotionally involved with a quiz show... but this is no mere quiz show. This is a comedy pop quiz show hosted by my ideal of comedic perfection (aside from Ronnie Barker, obviously), Mark Lamarr. The return of the show means that, not only will my life be happy and contented once more, but that I will have NEW jokes to tell my adoring fans. After all, it's about 85% of my comedy output. Used to be more, but I've been striving hard for originality in recent years (Ambiwinkstrous being a prime example).
For those of you that do not know, have not seen, imagine this: Half an hour of comedy japery based around rock and pop music, the humiliation of idiotic or arrogant guests and the elevation in respect of intelligent and amusing guests. How we laughed when Bill Bailey fell over trying to moonwalk behind a desk... how we laughed when Dave fucking Hill from Slade made a total twat of himself... how we cackled at Bobby Davro not being funny... how we came to love DJ Sammy... how we came to realise that though mad and prog-rock, Fish (formerly of Marillion) is a funny, funny man.
More than that, thanks to Mastermind, University Challenge and after Buzzcocks, Room 101, I get two straight hours of genuinely good TV in one day every week now. That is what makes TV licenses worth paying for. That is what makes getting out of bed worth doing. That is what makes inventing telly in the first place worth doing.
And now I'm off to shower, dress and get some fucking Coke.
ETA: WEASELS!
The world is an unfair place, my pretties.
And I woke up this morning to find a house with NO DIET COKE. NO COKE PRODUCTS OF ANY KIND. (although I think we have some tonic water by Schweppes, which is owned by Coke I think. Not the same at all). This means many things, not least that I am dying, nay dying of thirst, but that I'm also going to have to change out of my PJs, get dressed, put my shoes on and go buy some Coke. *dies*
I wouldn't mind ever so much, but I ended up eating chicken soup yesterday for dinner because we had nothing in the house not frozen solid that I like even at all... we seem to have run out. I mean, there was no pasta... my favourite sauce but no pasta to put on it. Meatballs, but no pasta. I ended up at half twelve watching Sharpe's Honour (still trying to give it a chance) eating cherry tomatoes on their own. The combination of little food and no Coke is going to play havoc with my very delicate system. I say delicate, I've actually got a stomach that's probably lined with asbestos, but it's a delicate system based on a fragile balance between Diet Coke, crisps and mortadella. Without those things, I don't know what will happen.
That said, this evening heralds the long-awaited return of *drumroll* NEVER MIND THE BUZZCOCKS! Yes indeed, life will, at 9pm this evening, make sense once more. I know most of you have no idea what I'm going on about, that it is silly to be so emotionally involved with a quiz show... but this is no mere quiz show. This is a comedy pop quiz show hosted by my ideal of comedic perfection (aside from Ronnie Barker, obviously), Mark Lamarr. The return of the show means that, not only will my life be happy and contented once more, but that I will have NEW jokes to tell my adoring fans. After all, it's about 85% of my comedy output. Used to be more, but I've been striving hard for originality in recent years (Ambiwinkstrous being a prime example).
For those of you that do not know, have not seen, imagine this: Half an hour of comedy japery based around rock and pop music, the humiliation of idiotic or arrogant guests and the elevation in respect of intelligent and amusing guests. How we laughed when Bill Bailey fell over trying to moonwalk behind a desk... how we laughed when Dave fucking Hill from Slade made a total twat of himself... how we cackled at Bobby Davro not being funny... how we came to love DJ Sammy... how we came to realise that though mad and prog-rock, Fish (formerly of Marillion) is a funny, funny man.
More than that, thanks to Mastermind, University Challenge and after Buzzcocks, Room 101, I get two straight hours of genuinely good TV in one day every week now. That is what makes TV licenses worth paying for. That is what makes getting out of bed worth doing. That is what makes inventing telly in the first place worth doing.
And now I'm off to shower, dress and get some fucking Coke.
ETA: WEASELS!