Yawn, fucking yawn. Why do the BBC bother. Gardeners, cooks and unfunny comedians. Ten pound a month in licence fee, imagine if Sky demand that, by law, everyone in the country had to subscribe or face a criminal fucking record. Outrageous and outdated.
Did you see First of the Summer Wine, expletives fail me in my raging attempt to vilify this program, so called comedy aimed squarely at the middle class, Laura Ashley wearing, lazy minded inbred arses who’s TV only has BBC1, 2 and OFF buttons, with their piano playing children and their four by four Jeeps.
Of course said Jeeps are used exclusively for driving their precious sad eyed children back and forth from school, pausing only occasionally to mount the pavement with their hazard warning lights flashing so they can get some more money from the cash point in order to fund their next sojourn to Sainsbury’s to buy whatever shite it was Jamie Olivier was cooking on the TV the night previously, so they can claim to their overblown arrogant fuck wit friends that Jamies recipe’s are divine, as if that buy proclaiming the fat tongued wanker ‘King of Cookery’ they somehow know him and spend weekends in Italy with him stuffing their stupid faces with buffalo mozzarella and olives
In actual fact they lead exceptionally under fulfilled lives with nothing but chintzy furniture, the occasional sweet sherry and the prospect of early retirement stopping them from killing themselves and their family in an orgy of knives, blood and piercing screams. Where the only pause would occur in order to give them time to grin manically as they carve up their children, repeating the phrase ‘Daddy loves you’ over and over again before collapsing into a blood soaked pile of family members, sobbing and all the time wishing they’d done more with their lives than spend Sunday evenings watching turgid shite like this.
And the Vicar of fucking Dibley.
Fawlty Towers was good though.
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