I couldn’t help but post this - can’t wait to see their next performance.  The crowd had such a great time!

One of the best things to come out of the 90’s was when Margaret Thatcher resigned as the leader of the Conservative Party (1990). The other thing was the television show Bottom. The show was centered around 2 hapless and lovingly retarded characters: Richard “Richie” Rich, and Edward “Eddie” Elizabeth Hitler - two flat mates played by friends Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmondson - creators of the 1980’s hit The Young Ones.

Why am I writing about Bottom? Well, I just picked up the entire three-series box set on DVD. My favorite episode has to be Culture - the one where they play chess with the Spiderman figure - hilarious.

About a week ago I ordered the entire ten-part series of Band of Brothers, the HBO original series that ran in 2001. The story starts with Easy Company (of the US Army’s 101st Airborne through the eyes of the soldiers) being put through the rigors of “basic training” in the first episode “Currahee” - given its name from the hill the troops had to run in full combat gear as part of their fitness training.

The entire series is beautifully shot, sharply written, and splendidly presented and directed by a fine list of pros - Tom Hanks himself stepping in to direct Part 5, Crossroads.

Executive Produced by Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg, Band of Brothers is a true viewing spectacle bringing WWII and the long battle for Easy Company.

When my brother sees this he’s going to shit with glee.

Jamie and his magic fucking torch ruled when I was a kid.

Did you hear that? RULED!And here are the lyrics should you want to sing along:

Jamie! Jamie!
Jamie and the Magic Torch.
Down the helter skelter, faster and faster
towards Cuckoo Land.

Wordsworth! Wordsworth!
Following hard behind.
Ready for adventure, always there to lend a paw or hand!

Mr Boo and all the others too,
the strangest people you’ve ever seen.
And the torch with it’s magical beam -
If I hadn’t really been there
I’d think that I was dreaming!

Jamie! Jamie!
No two nights are the same.
And life is one long glorious game
with Jamie.
Jamie and the Magic Torch!

(I don’t remember the dog being called Wordsworth though - perculiar)

I’m sat here in front of the telly, again, and being pleasantly entertained by TLC’s documentary entitled “World’s Tallest Man”. Decidedly enjoyable, and indeed educational, my joyous square-eye fest was instantaneously ass-fucked by the last ad segment. You know me and American ads - a paranoia-feeding pool of wankers that prey on the weak-willed.

[let me set the scene]

There’s a couple having dinner, and the woman’s narrative retorts into such inane drivel as, “I just can’t sit still”, and “my legs are itching to move”, and “I just feel I need to move my legs.” She then goes on to say, “my brother told me I have ‘Restless Leg Syndrome’, and it can be treated easily.”

I was then treated to a grainy showing of her sitting comfortably, thankful of the drug they’re peddling. At the end of the ad, I’m afforded the all too frequent www to visit to “learn more about my problem” - so I type into Firefox, www.restlessleg.com.

What do I find? A one-page site full of links to a whole host of “ailments”, from migraines to herniated discs.

Say it with me.. restless leg syndrome. Go on, entertain me. Restless… leg.. syndrome. What the fuck. Restless leg? Wouldn’t that constitute just being generally fucking tired? YES!

Wankers. Oh, and moronically stupendous.

It’s 8:10pm on a frigid Sunday night, and I’m sat here in front of the telly, pretty much just checking e-mail and such, and on came Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - I’m seen it before, and albeit conforming to the stereotypical “makeover show” logistics with the consumate high energy host etcetera, this episode has me glued like a coke addict staring at a 5-pound bag of the bad stuff.

The situation - single father, wife recently deceased, and bringing up 3 kids on his own. Already I’m hooked. We find out at the very beginning of the show that his wife died instantly from a brain aneurysm - she went to bed, he followed an hour later and found her lifeless… good god, the behemoth hands of a phantom giant wrapped around my heart and just squeezed the living happiness out of me… sapped.

If anyone is watching this show, get the Kleenex as I have a feeling it’s going to get worse… well actually, I mean better.

[reaches for tissues]

Seeing good things being done for people “less fortunate” in a world of frequent fear, pain and despair says something about the human spirit… it lives on.

Do something nice today - open a door for someone, tell your friend how much they mean to you, call your mother and tell her you love her… it doesn’t cost anything to be amazing, and you could very well make someone’s day.

[tugs on 3 Kleenex from the box and gets ready for a river flowing]

8:24pm - UPDATEThey just knocked down his whole freaking house!!! Videotaping the whole thing, as he does, the host goes on to tell the father that they’re going to rebuild the whole bloody thing… I am fooking glued to the telly.

I fucking hate car commercials, and the new one from Chevrolet isn’t by any means an exception to the rule. Their new “red tag event” touts itself as the greatest and latest sale they have ever had, and to promote their fayre, they’re sticking lovely red tags on their vehicles. They use the typical fast talking imbecile to make it sound exciting, tantalize you with the fact that it’s only through the Thanksgiving period, and if you’re not standing by one of their cars with your wallet out before the end of the holidays, you’ll lose out.

[here it comes]

Their strap line - “The price on the tag is the price you pay, not a penny more!”

Isn’t it called a fucking price tag on any normal day?

[slaps head - ah, calling it something else will make them think it's better, bigger, more fabulous!]

Some fat fuck will no doubt be there fresh and early tomorrow morning itching to see one of these fucking tags - tag my ass bitches, and don’t pay a penny more.

This is music to my ears. In an earlier post I’d commented on what kind of message the networks were sending by allowing Ms Stewart her own reality show… Yahoo News have reported that NBC are not interested in doing any more series after this one is through - one less piece of crap on the telly… Desperate Housewives, please be next.

sky news recently proved to me that a picture is indeed worth a thousand words.

I don’t need to say any more.

I’m sat here at home, it’s 2:06pm on a gorgeous saturday afternoon (before you ask why I’m not outside, I’m nursing a frigging cold), and I’ve spent most of the morning doing laundry, Skype’ing with my family in England, and generally partaking in some well earned chillage. I thought I’d flick on the telly, mostly as background noise really, something to stimulate my ocular needs with sporadic upward glances… and what do I catch? Yet another beauty commercial hosted by Susan Lucci of the ‘All My Children’ fame, promoting a product called ‘Youthful Essence’, a ‘microdermabrasion tool for the home’.

So before I begin my tirade of rantage, I want to comment on the people that appear with Susan on this godforesaken ad…

[college girl accent] “like my skin felt like… so soft… and like… my face has such a like… glow and like… I feel great and like…”

Woah, hang on! (the ad’s still playing by the way), some chick just said “professional microdermabrasion is stupid expensive”. what? “stupid expensive”? jesus, we need a fucking ‘improve your grammar in 7 easy steps’ commercial! perhaps it could be hosted by Prince Charles, or something?

This ad sucks, and I mean REALLY sucks… cute girls, drawing me in… old women with great skin, drawing in ugly old bats with shit skin and low self esteem. And it really got me thinking about what US television is all about. Beautiful people with not an ounce of realism. But what really stabbed me in the gut was the realization that there’s no wonder the majority of women in this great country hate the way they look… and why? Television. Movies. Commercials. Morning news. You name it, they all have these amazingly perfect looking people promoting products that they insist will reduce wrinkles, plump lips, blend away dark spots (what the fuck is a dark spot?), look younger blah fucking blah.

I have a message for the women of America. You’re all gorgeous, your imperfect skin, your slightly out of shape tummy, your frigging dark spots… we, the men, love you just the way you are. Trust me, when you wake up next to a guy in the morning, your make up isn’t there any more - gone! Try to look like you… not like Susan Lucci covered in 3 hours of gunk from a tube or bottle. Because you know what? It’s temporary, and your cute and face-defining wrinkles are normal - get used to growing old gracefully and embrace it.

Female Amercians, get some therapy, save your money on these shit Lucci-promoted creams and phallic-looking applicator guns. Get used to loving who you are, and say “fuck you Aveda”, I love me just the way I am. And if you want to order a pizza, why the heck not.

I love you ladies! Come on, show me your crow’s feet for fuck’s sake. They’re cute.