television: or how marc wootton can rot in hell

every now and again i rediscover why i don’t watch television much no more.  tonight is one of those sunday evening bottle of wine waiting on match of the day (is andrew johnson a bald beckham?) and can’t think of bugger all else to do moments where i put on some random programme i vaguely remember reading about in the arts section of the (not so anymore) broadsheets.  

well ease my aching sides. 

more ‘funny’ from bbc three, that mainstream comedy farm, that edinburgh fringe pimp-a-thon. 

thanks sincerely for the mighty boosh. 

fuck you, yes indeed fuck you most sincerely, for every other high concept catchphrase driven prosthetically enhanced merchandise hawking humour show you’ve shat out over the past decade including but not exclusive to catherine tate, the fast show, little britain, tittybangbang (a truly appalling name), two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, the smoking room and anything at all involving that chunky smug cunt-saying cunt faux-standup no talent one trick prick bastard gervais.   

yes there’s one more to add to the shit-list.  marc wootton exposed.  if you’ve heard of him previously it’s probably through his equally unfunny shirley ghostman high spirits nonsense.  a kind of cruel camp subpar peter kay as bad fake psychic.  famous really only for an awful appearance in-character on jonathan ross.  bad taste cruel comedy requires a great deal of skill to pull off without coming across like some kidraping junkie monster.  see jerry sadowitz for a proper demonstration.  

so this.

comedy of the total fucking obvious. 

one joke stretched out like a dank wet turd from a cows ass.

a gallery of delusional characters reads the beeb blurb.  delusional indeed.

laugh.

laugh fuckers.

a posh english gangsta rapper.

a brash female american standup.

a thick obnoxious banksy style modern artist.

a cruel australian child psychologist.

insert yr own noun verb adjective comedy combination and kick that fucking humour horse to sketch show death.    

oh the humanity!

jeremy dyson is involved somewhere in this abomination.  continuing a proud league of gentleman tradition of being in or writing shite.  much like the monty python lot (terry gilliam honourably excepted) should have been drowned as soon as filming on life of brian finished.

avoid avoid avoid.  like a backstreet abortionist.  like the crying shoeless drunk girl at a party.  like the new iggy & the stooges record.  like anal rape.

avoid.