So, Charlie Brooker and Konnie Huq are to get married. I know this is a newsworthy story, because at least two people I follow Tweeted about it, and it's in the Daily Mail. (I realise this probably means little to non-British readers. Who cares, this is a blog. I'll do the important things: getting angry about issues that don't affect you, and mentioning Hitler)
"The most unlikely showbiz wedding?" is the headline the Mail runs this story under. Well, no, probably not. Discarding many other showbiz weddings that are or were unlikely and actually occurred, I'd say the most unlikely romance would be between the reanimated remains of Marlon Brando and a horse. The Mail, unable to understand how two people who seem different can possibly form a romance, continues with several comparisons - Miss Huq, of course, rose to fame hosting children's Show Blue Peter, giving her a nice, family-friendly appearance. Brooker, in comparison, says some nasty things about TV shows and celebrities, using words you wouldn't say to your grandmother.
So what we have here is in fact, a simple case of two people who have opposing screen personas. Wow, how could these two people ever get along? Actually, I don't think the Daily Mail likes Charlie. It does go on about his "foul-mouthed" shows a lot, and his dropping out of college, without once mentioning that he won Columnist of the Year at the 2009 British Press Awards, for instance.
So, to once again distance myself from the Daily Mail in whatever way possible, I offer the best of luck to Charlton and Kanak, and to anyone else out there getting married.
Unless you're a Nazi of course. In which case, I'll have to borrow some words from Brooker himself, and tell you to go away.
And die. You're worse than Hitler. God, you people make me sick...
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weddings. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
Kazam!
"And is this your card?"
"No." I replied firmly. There was no point lying - the card brandished in face was a 7 of hearts, and I'd picked Death. The manic figure in front of me didn't seem affected by his magical failure. In fact, he continued happily:
"Well, for my next trick, I need to borrow your watch!"
I tried, I really tried, to hide my watch, but he wrestled it from my wrist and hid it in a bag. Performing something actually akin to magic, he produced a large hammer from a small packet, and repeatedly struck the bag with my watch...
"Tom... is this necessary? People are looking..." I pleaded hopelessly.
He continued, hitting the bag over and over. Then, in front of the disapproving audience gathered around us, he emptied the bag onto a pew. Several squashed oranges fell out, feebly attempting to roll on the uneven surface.
I looked at the Vicar. He, too, was looking at me. Over his glasses, disapprovingly. I smiled apologetically. My wedding day was not turning out like I'd planned. Not one bit.
"No." I replied firmly. There was no point lying - the card brandished in face was a 7 of hearts, and I'd picked Death. The manic figure in front of me didn't seem affected by his magical failure. In fact, he continued happily:
"Well, for my next trick, I need to borrow your watch!"
I tried, I really tried, to hide my watch, but he wrestled it from my wrist and hid it in a bag. Performing something actually akin to magic, he produced a large hammer from a small packet, and repeatedly struck the bag with my watch...
"Tom... is this necessary? People are looking..." I pleaded hopelessly.
He continued, hitting the bag over and over. Then, in front of the disapproving audience gathered around us, he emptied the bag onto a pew. Several squashed oranges fell out, feebly attempting to roll on the uneven surface.
I looked at the Vicar. He, too, was looking at me. Over his glasses, disapprovingly. I smiled apologetically. My wedding day was not turning out like I'd planned. Not one bit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
