Monday, December 05, 2005
Best In Show
Radio Five Live annoyed me again this Saturday, by having live coverage of George Best's funeral. Look, ok, great player, sadly missed, ad infinitum, but a funeral on the radio?
It . . . was . . . so . . . slow . . . and . . . tedious . . . I . . . kept . . . falling . . . back . . . to . . . zzzzzzzzz.
Seriously, I respect the sentiment, but at the end of the day, there are some events which just don't make good radio. I'm always baffled, every year, by the coverage of the Marathon on the radio. How does this work? I know what someone running looks like, so really, what's the point? Particularly when the Beeb cover it on telly as well.
I went back to sleep for about half an hour after the coffin was being loaded into the hearse, and when I woke up, the hearse was only just pulling off. An action-packed morning then. I think the nation has paid plenty enough respects now. Maybe it's time to just move on.
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Even more infuriating was an event that happened to me in the early hours of Sunday morning. I was walking down the road at about five with my mate, and he needs to go to the petrol station for fags, and what does he find? There's a bloke at the window, making the man at the checkout walk through the shop to get him products he doesn't want.
"No, not that frozen pizza, the one next to it."
So he has to go back and get the next one.
"No, I don't want it really. I do want a bottle of water though."
A bottle of water arrives.
"Not Evian, Volvic."
He kept this up for about fifteen minutes, all the while calling the attendant "nigger" and "coon", and just making a complete twat of himself.
The only sort of person worse than him is his girlfriend, who was sitting in his car, clearly greatly impressed by the level of wit he had attained, egging him on. How moronic do you have to be to find that funny and attractive in a man?
Once upon a time, I was on a walk in the Lake District with my parents. Our car was parked at a car park at the end of the walk. This being the Lake District, the road out of this car park was long, windy, and only wide enough for one car. We got to the end of the road out, and just then, a Beemer pulled in, blocking the exit. It was a bloke with his girlfriend. One of us was going to have to reverse. We would have to reverse about half a mile. He would have to reverse about half a yard. Would he reverse? Would he fuck. We had this stand-off for about five minutes, all the while his girlfriend was laughing gormlessly in the passenger seat, no doubt proud of her acievement in being pulled by the biggest dickhead in all of England, until eventually my dad gave up and reversed the half mile. He's a classier man than me - if it had been me, I'd have sat there until I died of thirst rather than move.
It . . . was . . . so . . . slow . . . and . . . tedious . . . I . . . kept . . . falling . . . back . . . to . . . zzzzzzzzz.
Seriously, I respect the sentiment, but at the end of the day, there are some events which just don't make good radio. I'm always baffled, every year, by the coverage of the Marathon on the radio. How does this work? I know what someone running looks like, so really, what's the point? Particularly when the Beeb cover it on telly as well.
I went back to sleep for about half an hour after the coffin was being loaded into the hearse, and when I woke up, the hearse was only just pulling off. An action-packed morning then. I think the nation has paid plenty enough respects now. Maybe it's time to just move on.
***********************************************
Even more infuriating was an event that happened to me in the early hours of Sunday morning. I was walking down the road at about five with my mate, and he needs to go to the petrol station for fags, and what does he find? There's a bloke at the window, making the man at the checkout walk through the shop to get him products he doesn't want.
"No, not that frozen pizza, the one next to it."
So he has to go back and get the next one.
"No, I don't want it really. I do want a bottle of water though."
A bottle of water arrives.
"Not Evian, Volvic."
He kept this up for about fifteen minutes, all the while calling the attendant "nigger" and "coon", and just making a complete twat of himself.
The only sort of person worse than him is his girlfriend, who was sitting in his car, clearly greatly impressed by the level of wit he had attained, egging him on. How moronic do you have to be to find that funny and attractive in a man?
Once upon a time, I was on a walk in the Lake District with my parents. Our car was parked at a car park at the end of the walk. This being the Lake District, the road out of this car park was long, windy, and only wide enough for one car. We got to the end of the road out, and just then, a Beemer pulled in, blocking the exit. It was a bloke with his girlfriend. One of us was going to have to reverse. We would have to reverse about half a mile. He would have to reverse about half a yard. Would he reverse? Would he fuck. We had this stand-off for about five minutes, all the while his girlfriend was laughing gormlessly in the passenger seat, no doubt proud of her acievement in being pulled by the biggest dickhead in all of England, until eventually my dad gave up and reversed the half mile. He's a classier man than me - if it had been me, I'd have sat there until I died of thirst rather than move.
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I worked the night shift in a petrol station in my late teens, and there were always wankers like that around on a Saturday night. It was marginally better than being robbed though, which also happened with alarming frequency.
Paul - Pun-tastic! I should have thought of that.
Happy - It might have been better if you had been there - nobody had a go at him. Beemers are driven by arseholes, with almost no exceptions. A friend of mine bought one about four years ago, and we haven't stopped ribbin him about it yet.
Hung - That's a job I'm exceedingly grateful I don't have. What a way to spend the early hours.
Happy - It might have been better if you had been there - nobody had a go at him. Beemers are driven by arseholes, with almost no exceptions. A friend of mine bought one about four years ago, and we haven't stopped ribbin him about it yet.
Hung - That's a job I'm exceedingly grateful I don't have. What a way to spend the early hours.
steve has the best job in the world, he's glad of not having any job that isn't his: rumour has it that he works as the cleaner at a hardcore porn factory in his spare time.
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