bad signal
WARREN

It's the sun.  We haven't seen that
since November.  There are
blinded people all over Southend
today.

I will never understand why they
televise motor racing.  It's duller
to watch even than golf.  A dozen
highly-trained charisma-free
planks in high-powered darts that
handle like vacuum cleaners drawing
a best-fitting line through a boring
racetrack fifty times and the same
three blokes always win.  Give me
the cross-country rally any day.
I remember watching one where
the driver was killing his navigator.
The suspension had gone, and
the driver was bracing himself
against the steering wheel over the
bumps and ditches and jumps.  But
the navigator had nothing to brace
against.  There was an in-car
camera with mic, and you could
hear the guy screaming every time
the car hit the dirt, until he lost the
power of speech entirely, and just
laid there, jerking.  He had to be
carried out of the car by medics
at the next stop -- because god
forbid the driver should pull over
or anything.  I have a feeling that
was the navigator who later died
when the driver rolled his car.

Bring back Christians vs Lions, that's
what I say.  That'd be some television.
Don't lie to me.  You only watch the
Winter Olympics to see the skiers
wipe out on the downhill slopes.
I'd wear that shirt and go to the
sports bar.  "I'm a Lions fan!"  "Me
too!"  "Have you ever met a
Christians fan?"  "Only in Oklahoma
and South Dakota.  But they say
God invented lions anyway, so
they're kind of torn.  Which is funny,
really, because that's what happens
to the Christians on a Saturday
afternoon anyway..."

I should be running a TV network.
I would crush the opposition.  Also,
see them driven before me and
hear the lamentation of their
women.

"Les Moonves, what is best in life?"
"To crush Jeff Zucker, see him
driven before me, and hear the
lamentation of his women."  Now
that'd be a press conference
worth attending.  Les Moonves in
a loincloth, collar and tie, waving
a broadsword stained with the
blood of failed sitcoms.  Standing on
a pile of dead ugly middle-aged
Italian guys with inexplicably hot
wives.

Send me all the money now.

---
Sent via mobile device
probably in the pub

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