"It's goodnight from you."

Good god. I apologise in advance for this, but it's another TV rant. This time, concerning another recent programme but I'm on the side that wishes it was never aired. Me and my uncle, and I hope many, many other people- we agree on this.

The One Ronnie.

Just look at the talent drawn in, all solid in their own right, to distract us from the fact that it was just a recycled show.

Lionel Blair
Rob Brydon
Charlotte Church
Jon Culshaw
Harry Enfield
James Corden
Jocelyn Jee Esien
Miranda Hart
Robert Lindsay
Matt Lucas
Catherine Tate
David Walliams
Richard Wilson

If that isn't an act of "ooh, look at the shiny! But don't look behind the curtain!" then I don't know what is. No, really. I'm fairly sure that the amount of acts thrown at the show to see what stuck is the epitome of a distraction. If it isn't, someone please correct me or I'll go through life thinking that.

And look at who was drawn in to write the sketches, all based on "formulae" that The Two Ronnies already tried, to much funnier and much more memorable success (to the point where they have now, in many cases, become flogged and over-repeated- Four Candles anyone?). That is all that the show was- repeats of old sketches, with the puns pulled out and filled with updated versions. "Eggs box £3.60" just doesn't work in place of "plug, rubber, barfroom. 15 amp." The Barker magic was missing. Instead it was cobbled together from the pens of these people-

If you don't like it, turn it off.

Alright, television and the internet are evil. That's been established by every keyboard militant in existence, enthusiastically judging the world around them through bitter eyes.

If you believe that then you are a moron. You are welcome to be that, but ultimately, it is inescapable that you hold such a stupid belief. Moreover, believing that makes you wrong. The internet and television are not evil, and if you're sensitive enough to be disturbed by the few things on television that have truly sordid, crass or vulgar elements in them, you cannot use that as a piece of proof. To say "aha! but I saw this programme called Tits and Guns which shocklingly turned out to be full of nudity, swearing and murder and that therefore proves that these two mediums are evil because it shocked and sickened me."

You have the choice to turn it off, or to decline from clicking the "Enter Site" button. And it's not as though programmes deliberately try to trick you into watching them by calling themselves one thing, like Teddy Bears in Cars, and then showing you Gang Rape in a Rover.

You're buying a book. Stop trying to fill the world with mumbo jumbo.

Oh, and also, you're killing your daughter's intellect. You're bad parents. And you really need to rethink your personal hygeine.

This was the reaction that exploded into my LED-adorned Santa hat bearing head as I tried to help a husband and wife buy for their daughter today at the big W. If I had said this, quite probably I would now be drinking to my reasonably lengthy job there as it swanned away. But I didn't voice my opinions, or the facts, and simply advised them on what each of the many books we "tried for size" held within their pages.

It was a fun half hour.

Convincing people it's Christmas-y

So. Seemed like the thing to do this week, living in town. Handing out Christmas cards to the neighbours (dropping them through their doors). The sort of thing that convinces the self that it's not all bad and that every so often people can be decent.

"So this is Christmas. And what have you done?"

And what happened next was interesting.

"I am the passenger...

And I ride, and I ride and I ride."

Just because I love that song and love the recent T-Mobile ads set in the airport with that black guy and his awesome voice. And I couldn't think of a better title, or any title for that matter, for this post. Which will be a moan. But will not be pathetic as the last few have.

People, I've decided, are dicks, purely designed to piss each other off, and we're all bad. Everyone is a bad person, and we only have moments of building ourselves above the shitty getting-by-but-nothing-more humdrum by joking about.

My child abuse days are over, all thanks to a Disney princess.

Insulting? I don't think so. Pointless campaigning set up by fools that ended up being ineffective, unwarrantedly nostalgic and hi-jacked by muppets who think everything is better when Gaston, Simba and the Funny Bones are replacing their faces.

A brilliant day for the (purportedly) most advanced age of civilisation yet.

The Lodgings

It's with a heavy heart, some might say, that he returned home day after day.
Invariably it would be late, when he came back, from being rushed, busy and away.
When he returned the light in the hall would still be burning, dimly casting light
Out of the windows set in the front door. Spilt warmth flickering into the night.
The light would make his heart jump as he slotted and turned his key, always,
as he thought perhaps the lodgers other than he would be around to talk about their days.

Without fail, something he never prepared himself for, that flickering heart would sink.
He'd no sooner step inside and the light would be just that- a left on light. He'd blink
a rapid defence against the deflated sense of being once again alone in the lodgings.
The three others who rented with him would know nothing of it, why burden such things
on their shoulders? It wasn't their life to bear. And so with a heavy heart, his evening
would carry on as normal- some work, a meal and bed, where sleep would evade, morosely brooding.

The three other lodgers, he couldn't blame them. They were always away with their flings,
and though they left him, it was only he who inflicted on himself the cold and empty lodgings.