Shit On The Telly.

Jeremy Kyle. "Real" Housewives of Whatever. Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents. 

To be honest, from 7 in the morning up to about dinnertime, the television is stuck on CBeebies anyway. I don't even know why we bother to stick the telly on that channel because it is obvious The Human Child is not a telly-watching type of person. Doesn't matter anyway because it is nothing but garbage during the daytime. 

Over a hundred channels and I find my selection narrowed down to horrifying shit. Watch Jeremy Kyle while your child has gone down for his nap because all you need is more incessant screaming, shouting and denials over who the hell did what. Or, you, the housewife elbows-deep in an enormous pile of dirty laundry, might want to watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta and possibly contemplate suicide when you start to question your worth as a human when rich twats like them are moaning over the other rich twat's duvet's thread count. The reason absurd reality shows like these exist is because somewhere in the dark pockets of this world, there are people who thrive on garbage like that. They have adopted these idiots and made them their own and actually giving a damn about how these characters on the television are progressing as a person. They have breathed life into these shows that should have never seen the light of day. The same lot of people who thrive on soaps and feel compelled to live their lives with so much drama because they crave what they see on the television and they want to channel what they watch on a daily basis into their own family life. Idiots who think that EastEnders is a story about them. Somewhere in a poky village in England is a place just like Coronation Street. 

Some time during the afternoon there will be more crap like Four Rooms or Dragon's Den. Rich, minted business elites wanting people to kowtow to them. Here, my Kings and One Grizzly Witch, I have come to you with my seemingly pathetic lifelong dream/grandmother's cigarette case/Nazi Memorabilia, and I beg you to ridicule me and everything I stand for. Just strike me down with your massive Wall Street/Facebook/Twitter stock share and tell me how worthless I am before offering me peanuts or fuck all with a side serving of patronizing business advice on toast. 

If those other offerings are not your cup of tea, may I interest you in a bit of Home Away or In The Sun (or something) where you see a pair of retired old couple, who are obviously rolling in it, being indecisive about where the fuck to relocate to. Home after home after FUCKING home, the wife or the husband will nitpick the shit out of everything and at the end of every episode neither of them have got a bloody a clue about what the hell they wanted in the first place. There is a group of smelly, hungry homeless people down the street where I live. There are hundreds of families being shoved in hostels. And you cannot make your blooming minds up because of the kitchen layout? For fuck's sake. I just want to watch some afternoon telly, have a cup of coffee, a fag and take in a deep breath because I just spent the past hour telling a one year old to not pull things down off the counter. I don't want to bear witness to the downfall of mankind. 

Yes. Subs make the telly world more bearable. 

By any chance the name of the other son is Fraser? Rubbish name anyway. Phrase Whore is better.