Going in …
Going in …
I don’t often swear aloud, but there’s one person who’s annoyed me since the age of 14.
He’s a fucker. A tory fucker. An annoying tory (no upper case T) fucker.
He’s been a fucker since I was 14. Perhaps earlier.
He irritates the fuck out of me. He once took part in a failed children’s TV show, Puzzle Party, which insulted my intelligence as a child (I fear for the welfare of younger children, particularly since there were only three channels At the time).
And, apart from his (annoying and misled) political life, he’s recently appeared as a regular on the One Show. One must ask why; does the BBC have the aim of irritating a large proportion of the UK/voters.
I may write a letter of complaint. I pay my TV license, after all.
Last night, I watched Survivorz, a pretty mediocre British zombie film. The acting was actually a little better than most low budget films of the genre.
A lot of the sets were reminiscent of the now defunct Slingshot 2.8 hours later. And, near the end, it became apparent why.
Alex Noble, the Zomboss and former Slingshot zombie trainer, appeared in a scene near the end.
I had to move quickly, so the picture’s somewhat blurry.
I’m currently watching a documentary about the last flying Vulcan bomber.
As a child, I once saw one crash. I was with other kids from school, in Hetton for swimming lessons. We saw an aircraft in flames, parachutes and what seemed, at such a distance, as a small explosion on impact.
I finally gave in and bought one. A Westclox Baby Ben, which now proudly sits on the mantle.
I may have been influenced a little by recent scenes from an episode of the Walking Dead. And, of course, by memories of a similar timepiece on the mantle of my childhood.
I may have also bought a second.
There is twinkly music as Ms Paltrow boards the tube. And then there were two.
Hugh Everett. Many Worlds.
Shortly on BBC1, Sliding Doors. Which, of course, reminds me of Eels.
As in Mr Everett’s dad’s theory. I could expand, but it’d be healthy for you to research.