Marginal excitement at work today when the playground was crawling with Dibble apparently looking for this guy in the grounds and bushes: Missing-Bradford-Man
While this was going on, attempts to keep the chatter level to a minimum were as futile as if Taylor Lautner himself had peered through the window, which, to be fair, if he had, I would have felt it my civic duty to help him with whatever investigations of the bush that he required.
Cue, tenuous excuse to print picture of semi-legal crush interest. Feign to deny that you wouldn’t….
- probably old enough to be my grandson
In light of last Friday’s Comment of the Week “gymnastics is for spastics” we think there could be a Saturday night televisual market for a show entitled ‘The Spacks Factor’. Which started out as a glib and poor taste joke and has now spiralled out of proportion and become the subject of debate: – themed weeks have been mentioned. quadriplegic trampolining and high jump etc.
This brought to mind a very hazy Saturday morning many years ago when, for reasons which escape me now, a group of us were loafing about getting caned after a night out at a rave and were watching the paralympic games on TV.
Much debate was had at the time as to the fairness of the wheelchair race that had 10 contenders giving it hell for leather, callouses forming on their blurring hands as they barreled like fuck down the course and then one outsider, comes up from the rear, in an electric chair, just holding his finger down on the accelerator button and sailing over the finish line yards ahead of everyone else with a smug look on his face. (No it wasn’t Stephen Hawking before you ask).
Also much poor taste and highly un-PC hilarity ensued when several paraplegic wheelchair users lined up on the start line and the announcer said the magic words: “And now for the men’s Long Jump”.
I can still hear my friend’s incredulous Blacon twang saying “Yeeeeaaaaaaaah! What they gonna do? Wheel like fuck then slam the brakes on and just go……. Fuuuuuuuuuuck Rigggggght Offffffffff! & land in the sand on their faces”
(I’m snorting with laughter at the memory now but I guess you had to be there to appreciate it, and also possibly be stoned).
And if I get lashed for enjoying Harry Potter but no-one leaves me a berating comment for this post then shame on you all!)
For other bad taste TV show ideas don’t forget to tune into “Smack Idol”– 24 live coverage of heroin addicts going cold turkey in an old shed, or the new “Jim’ll Fix It” hosted by Jim Royle – sat in his chair, reading out letters and following each one with a loud fart, a “My Arse!” or “Back in a minute, I’m off for a Tommy Tit” and not actually making anyone’s wishes come true after all.
How's about that then?
And this is why I should go and work at Channel 5.
These ideas are trademarked BTW. Don’t be stealing my shit.