Wednesday, October 26, 2005

I see six twits

Having been a little distracted of late, I need to get back to the rhythm of keeping my loyal readership (AMTONW) informed. I have been occupied this week with helping to tidy up the fiasco that was the celebration of Trafalgar. We managed to keep it out of the press, but only just. In short, Philip, Andrew and Edward became bored with the official ceremonies (“If I hear one more boring speech, I am going to bloody burst”, said Philip, unaware that the microphones were switched on). They decided to re-enact the battle, stole a fishing boat, attacked the Cherbourg ferry, and with all of the skill that their years at sea brought, landed at Shanklin and claimed it for England, thinking they were in Calais. Liz hasn’t spoken to any of them since, and it was only my timely intervention that saved them from a night in the nick, or even 4 years in Parkhurst, as the Isle of Wight legal system is not as sophisticated as that on the mainland. So exhausting, darlings.

I retired home, and having failed to spot any of the programmes that Geoff watches, I thought I would try out the new series of “They Think It’s All Over”, now with the subtitle “I Wish It Bloody Was”. Ian Wright? Jonathan Ross? Tosser Hussain? Not exactly anyone’s choice for purveyors of subtlety and wit. The only redeeming feature was Boris Becker – being funny and clever and disproving the racial stereotype about the Teutonic people.

4 comments:

Mark Gamon said...

Me neither. Is he tuned in to a channel that's unavailable to ordinary mortals, even on Sky?

Oh. Perhaps he is.

Joogo. An ancient oriental martial art, in which victory is secured not by knocking the other contestant over, but rather by being the first to leave the room. This manouevre must of course be carried out without the other contestant noticing. Easy at a party, but requiring a thorough knowledge of joogo tactics to carry out during a dinner party. Or a first date, come to that. Particularly popular amongst shrinking violets.

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Unknown said...

If I were Northern Irish, I'd be a mote annoyed at Trafalgar day shindigs. London got the Duke of Pork, Scotland got Charles, Cardiff was Anne and Belfast.... Edward! Couldn't they afford Fergie?

Anonymous said...

Well I think Boris Becker was up till now trying hard not get into a sweat and spoil his chances with the UK public, but last episode he got into a shouting match with Wrightie which Jonathan Ross was able to deftly defuse. This was so typical of the Germans, browbeating others and shouting them down.