Sunday, June 10


Oh dear. Tv has finally hit the bottom of the barrel. "Britain's got talent" is, for those of you who don't know, sort of X-Factor - but you can do anything you like. If the first ten minutes are any thing to go by, Britain's talent got up and fucked off quite a long time ago.

So, first up, a ventriloquist. He was brilliant, right up until he tried actually being a ventriloquist. He asked his dummy a question, and then just continued speaking but moved the dummy's lips, along with his own. He was unbelievably poor.

Next came an interjection from the ubiquitous Ant, and indeed, Dec. "He's rubbish!" guffawed Ant. "Why aye man, I know!" Dec geordied back. I was ready to stab them, and myself by now. Ant and Dec's job is clearly to just pull funny faces in the links.

I'm now watching a 70 year old make a total fool of herself by rapping. Simon Cowell looks like he might have pissed himself with fear. Then, on cue, the 70 year old pissed herself (not really).

Saturday night was much better. Well, Doctor Who was anyway. Having Sky Plussed it, I watched it through a red stripe induced fog this morning (I was at the Teesside Skipping Championships last night, finishing a humiliating last). Doc Who was tremendous. After a clumsy start, it's right in it's stride now. I'll never walk past a statue again without a bit of fear in my heart.

You can watch it here as well, after you install the divx bit of jiggery pokery. Just don't blink.


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