Tuesday, April 05, 2005


Here’s a depressing quote from the Guardian :

“On Sunday, the second episode of BBC1's Sarah Waters adaptation Fingersmith lost around a quarter of last week's audience. The costume drama had 3.7 million viewers, against 9.2 million for Midsomer Murders on ITV1.”

I’m not so worried about losing audience numbers, everyone lost viewers on account of the (allegedly) nice weather and all. What’s truly horrible is that 9.2 people wanted to watch Midsomer Murders.


I suppose I shouldn’t be so harsh towards my fellow citizens. If they want to wallow in some antediluvian crypto-fascist bullshit, who am I to gainsay them? Oh, hold on, I’m seemingly the only person left with even an ounce of taste, so who am I to gainsay them : God Almighty, that’s who.

You might not think it’s particularly crypto-fascist yourself, but think about it’s deeper meanings – a world which seeks to eulogise the 1950’s emotionally suppressant values of an England that never really existed anyway, obsessed by appearance and public reputation, where everything runs smoothly marred only by occasional outbursts of obscene violence and ruled over from on high by a shadowy supercilious father figure . . . .

It’s beginning to sound quite sinister isn’t it :

Scene 1 (Interior) A sunny morning in the Kitchen of Honeydew cottage. Mrs Funnybunch is having tea with the Vicar of St Giles (Father Aneurism) and Miss Trumpeter

Mrs Funnybunch : “More tea, Vicar?”

Father Aneurism : “Ooh – don’t mind if I do . . . by the way, I hardly like to mention it but have you seen that Suzie from Nell Lane recently?”

Miss Trumpeter “She’s one who’s no better than she should be if you know what I mean”

Mrs Funnybunch : “And what about her young man, I wouldn’t like to meet him on a dark night”

Father Aneurism : “I couldn’t agree with you more Mrs Funnybunch”

Miss Trumpeter : “Yes, and they say he’s got all this money from heaven knows where. It’s not right, someone should do something, Vicar”

Father Aneurism : “You know Austin from the Young Farmers was saying exactly the same thing to me only the other day – perhaps you could put it on the agenda for the next ‘Parish Council’ meeting? Eh? Eh? A-ha-ha-ha-hah!”

Mrs Funnybunch : “Right you are Vicar. More tea?”

etc etc etfuckingcetera

And this dreary crap is what the majority of the British telly watching masses choose to sedate themselves with. Still not convinced? I’ve got 3 words for you : John Nettles.

Hold on, that’s only 2 words. What’s missing? : Wanker.

Tossers (part 2)

With regard to yesterday here (in reverse order) is Pan’s top 5 hateful gym types :-

5) ‘Yoga Lady’ : Excessively bendy yoga ladies who spend 2 hours contorting themselves and then saunter off without performing any other exercise. Fringe benefit : bad thoughts.

4) ‘Black Sox’ : Usually a bloke, but occasionally a woman, who wears their work socks in the gym. What are they trying to say? “I care so little about this exercise thing I might as well not be here? I haven’t washed any of the rest of my kit either but I have to wear that (NB Pan has never been guilty of this, hem hem) ? My feet stink already? Gross dudes. Fringe benefit : none

3) ‘Cross Trainer Bore’ : Machine hoggers (usually, but not always, a woman) who spend 45 minutes on a machine starting about, ooh 5.45 to hit that gym starting peak smack in the middle – but remember to pedal so slowly there is no danger of getting into the cardio zone, or even the weight loss zone. Fringe benefit :- get there first and piss them off.

2) ‘Free Weights Only’ : Always a bloke, usually in a pair who do a minimal or non existent warm up and then spend an hour in front of the mirror doing bicep curls and similar. Ugh. Fringe benefit : knowledge they would get exactly the same benefit if they only did 20 minutes.

1) ‘Shits’ : Horribly fit people who wear tight kit and do 40 blistering minutes on the treadmill and only develop a little glow. And they all know each other. Fringe benefit : Imaging that if you keep this up then one day you too will be able join their hallowed ranks and be officially allowed to 1000-yard-stare newcomers, while regularly engaging in HI-NRG orgiastic sex with the instructor(s) of your choice. This is an illusion.

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