Thursday, December 02, 2004

Let's face it, I've not really been out for a week, and I'm feeling pretty shit. It started off as a cold, now I have blocked sinuses, a sore throat, a hacking cough, blocked ears, and a slight inability to breathe.

Luckily, I don't have any work. But the worst thing is the TV. I mean, what else am I supposed to do? But I think I'm turning into one long property show, replete with charming regionally accented presenters, ocassionally interspersed with two middle class people sitting on a sofa talking about celebrities. They always go "and now for something completely different" before moving onto property.

Maybe the Lemsip's addled my brain: I'm living in a purple fantasy land where you can't trust a French roofer, holiday homes in southern Spain are destined to crack at the corners, people with a lot of money like plastic windows, auctions are only for property and the kind of chatchkes that your grandma wouldn't have in the house, and that all TV programmes are about guessing. How much do you think this house is worth? This georgian wash basin? This French gite. It's all about the money. And the forfeits. And the stupid voiceovers about whether they'll get the house at auction/save £1000 for the wedding dress/find the roofer who knicked the windows of the French farmhouse. Like I care.

I don't care.

Daytime TV is crap. And that's before I talk about the gardening shows. I'm not surprised that people who stay home all day get weird values, bad taste and need a voiceover just to make a (ready steady) meal.

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