Thursday, January 07, 2010
Mobiles quirking mobiles chirping
This is some stop-start bloggery right here. I began one post that never was by giving out about 'Frasier.' Now, I love Frasier but I get a proper dose of bile every time Anthony LaPaglia shows up and hams his way through one murderous scene after another, foisting his best Sarf Lahndan Innit over what is meant to be a Manchester accent.
He's Australian for fuck's sake.
The same with the aul bint who plays Daphne's mother, and don't get me started on Richard E Grant's cameo in the show's finale. A trained Withnail reduced to the status of a dick.
Too much time on Comedy Central here, as you can see. I can tolerate King Of Queens but once Charlie Sheen puts his misogynistic torso into view (Two And A Half Gobshites) I properly lament the fucking ice rink outside and the fact that I can't go from A to B without arse over tit.
Then I started a paean to Dina Carroll but one quick click into her Wikipedia page revealed nothing of interest. Ditto Gabrielle, and Sinitta was never a starter in the first place.
The next abortive entry revolved around my bathroom cleaning expedition earlier, another was a sad verse to the dinner that ended up on the floor last night. Neither, had I hit publish, would have secured me that much sought after 'Golden Merkin' statuette that I've been jonesing for.
So here I am, flat-stricken and clicking refresh after refresh on those of you tying yourself up in knots about the demise of I*****d's blo**ing scene over on Twenty Major, keeping my eye on RTE's 'Ice Age Watch 2010' for Dublin Bus updates I don't need and cursing the fact that there's no fucking decent transfer news.
Tinned goods are in short supply and the freezing fog descends. Thom Yorke is loving this and he's in my head, the gammy-eyed genius.