Posted by: docdenbow | July 28, 2013

The Canned Laughter Was Set To Stun

Been watching the telly recently? I haven’t as I mentioned in my previous post, apart from a few seconds watching Usain Bolt. Got a few bits and pieces recorded that are worth having a look at, “Case Histories” for one and everyone keeps telling me to watch “Luther.” I’m not sure that I can be bothered sitting down watching either. Certainly with “Case Histories” I may as well just read the book(s). I did, however, watch a couple of things that really caught my attention. One was a prog called “The Real White Queen,” which told of women like Elizabeth Woodville and Margaret Beaufort who manoeuvred to such an extent and wove such tangled webs of intrigue that their lives put ANY soap opera to shame.

After that I watched “Richard III: the King in the Car Park” on Catch Up TV. Although it was very interesting, somehow I was left disappointed with the whole prog. It seems these clever clog Leicester University type thought old (dead) Richard III was buried in a car park that had something to do with Leicester social services. They’d worked out this was the spot from looking at maps (duh!) They got a big mechanical digger, dug a trench (we call them holes archaeologists call them trenches) found some human remains immediately and basically buggered off to dig elsewhere. Why? No idea.

Anyway these remains turned out to be what was left of Richard III, so they werebunged to a cardboard box shoved into some cheapo Vauxhall and a quick CSI Leicester later with DNA taken from a carpenter in London as a comparison (don’t ask me I haven’t a clue why) and with the cause of death established the prog lurched to an end. Oh, yes all of this was ruined by bits of Larry Olivier *Now is the winter of our discontenting* at every conceivable opportunity when the narrator could think of nothing to say. All in all an interesting, but ultimately a crap piece of TV. It could have so much better. I just hope and pray there are no more Kings, or Queens for that matter, buried in car parks otherwise Channel 4 will be able to inflict more turgid television on me and you the slaves to our master that is the television set.

Anyway this idea that TV highlights for me, turn out to be two documentaries about medieval history has my teeth on edge and my toes doing weird grippy twisty like things as my fist slowly makes its’ way towards my on edge teeth to face gentle chewing. It is indeed the very idea that I now find the most satisfactory progs on telly to be documentaries. At the rate I am going I will be fluent in *did you see that documentary about ^insert boring subject here^ on the television the other night.*

I would be worried about this except for the fact that most telly these days absolute crap. When the boss eyed bouncing clockwork wanker that is Russell Howard is considered to be top talent by BBC3 and the comedic highlight of that channel is Mr T showing videos downloaded from YouTube, then I know that I’m right and they, whoever they may be, are a million percent wrong. And just who the hell is that giggling halfwit on Never Mind The Buzzcocks? Just checked, his name is Noel Fielding and is the unfunniest thing I have ever seen. I would rather slide down a razor blade using my testes as brakes than listen to him attempt humour. He was on that Live At The Apollo once. To use the world appalling is an understatement. As I am not overly well educated and have limited skill in using describing words, therefore I find it hard to convey just how bad he was in a meaningful way. But Jesus H. Christ, in the name of all that’s Holy (or not I guess that’s your choice) whoever on this planet suggested to Noel Fielding that he’d make a good comedian? Was it a comedian who thought that this would make a fantastic practical joke? When he was on this Apollo prog he was walking up and down the stage chuntering on about something or other. The audience was silent, wondering what this odd fellow was up to. So the decision was made and the canned laughter was set to stun. I was in and out of consciousness at this point and in danger of falling into a coma such was the *Fielding Effect.*. And then, and then my faithful little dog came to my rescue. She leapt from the settee/sofa/couch, trotted gently to the TV and pissed all over it, thus breaking the evil spell of Noel Fielding.

And the TV.

The Panasonic 42″ gently exploded setting alight the lounge. The blaze heating the chill Winter air.

My, how we laughed in the morning.

A small house fire and an exploding telly was very small price to pay to be free of Noel Fielding.

My little doggie was fine, bless her little cotton socks

Ciao For Now



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