Susan Hated Literature

Tonight, 12.00^[1] sees a fantastic oppertunity for all British and Irish TV watching individuals^[2] because, and I want you all to take a seat so the wonder won’t knock you from your feet^[3] Nick Fury: Agent of Shield starring The Hoff is showing.

Hooo-yay!
I say again, Hoooo-the fuck-yay!

But the world is not filled with good news, there is still a cloud blotting out most of the silver. Internet access at work is as hassle-full as yesterday. So if I seem to be ignoring you I’m not really saying you should Rack off, you dag^[4] but simply have been unable to read/reply because webland is in open revolt.

I am however, proud to bring you an update in the War of Everyday Items:
Last night, as I watched Bones I became aware that something horrific had occurred. I believe a blade of popcorn^[5] was responsible for slicing my tongue open^[6]

So not only was there a physical attack, but I believe that the television has joined in and is waging psychological warfare. Nothing so overt as constantly showing those bloody Meteor adverts, but much more subtle than that. For as I watched Eastenders last evening^[7] I was actually feeling sorry for one of the characters^[8] Normally I watch this show laughing away in my head^[9] at how they manage to make everyone’s lives so depressing and shudderific^[10]

But feeling sympathy for one of the characters. This has never before happened. Things have gone too far I tell you, too far. What’s next? Thinking that Mike Baldwin from Coronation Street is sexy^[11]

Related posts

• You are about as much fun as a divorce, which is not a bad idea (11)
• When a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty. (53)
• The Hoff needs your vote (13)
• I’ve always found paranoia to be a perfectly defensible position. (10)
• All power corrupts, but we need the electricity (7)

Last post, from me, on the riots.

I am not embarrassed by them. I am not shamed by them.
I did not take part. I did not toss bottles of urine at gardaí. I did not taunt gardaí. I did not loot shoe shops. I did not burn cars. I will never cheer on the IRA, be they Real, Provisional or “I can’t believe its not the buttery goodness that is the IRA”

I will never take anyone seriously who uses spin to try and condone such acts

Instead I’m content to be angry at those rioters. The majority of whom were nothing but bored kids acting out. But don’t think that this was unorganised disenfranchised youth acting on their own. What about the organisers telling the riots where to go. Instructing people to leave O’Connell St and head for Leinster House?

(Sub’s req’d)
The rioters engage in a stand- off with gardaí in Temple Bar. One puts his finger to his head as though it’s a gun and shouts

“Bang bang, Jerry McCabe, bang bang, Jerry McCabe”.

Also, in the campaign that the every day items have launched against me; today I scraped my knuckles on the rhyco book covers. Never fear. I shall keep you all up to date with this catalogue of minor annoyances.

Related posts

• Truth is the most valuable thing we have, so I try to conserve it (23)
• Jaysus, lads. You can’t be doing that. (12)
• I’ve always found paranoia to be a perfectly defensible position. (10)
• I’m fine. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit (19)

I have come to the conclusion that something, out there , somewhere, is conspiring to get me. Every day objects have been turned into weapons. Perhaps not of the mass destruction variety. Not even of minor destruction, but weapons of minor annoyance.

And we all know how damaging minor annoyances can be. After all, annoyance leads to irritation. Irritation to anger, and anger to… yes that’s right; The Dark Side.

You already know about the tinfoil incident. But that was not the last such occurrence. Today the photocopier tried to chop my finger off. Luckily I escaped with merely a teeny tiny cut, but I know its game. Oh yes. It cannot fool me.

But it isn’t only physical damage these appliances are determined to inflict. On Sat as I attempted to cook some food, not one, not two, but four sausages escaped the grill and landed on the floor. The oven was trying to starve me into submission. Luckily the rashers fared better, so we did not give in.

They won’t defeat me. I shall fight on. I shall not be overcome. I shall fight on as though I have so much heart that it’d explode all over the television^[1]

Related posts

• When a stupid man is doing something he is ashamed of, he always declares that it is his duty. (53)
• I’m fine. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit (19)