Monday, October 20, 2003

Got lots of moving done over the weekend, especially on Saturday - which meant I was dead on my feet by about 5 pm. As I was on my own, I settled down for a rare evening in with a takeway from Nandos and a decent bottle of wine.

By 9 pm, I had watched a dvd and played some records, and I was ready for something else. Hmmm. Saturday night telly it was then. And good lord, was it dreadful. I haven't watched it in ages - or at least not beyond 7:30 or so before heading out. With the crap that was on, no wonder the streets of Manchester are teeming with people who prefer a night at Brannigan's.

The absolute worst had to be Grease Mania on ITV at 9:30. Althought the performances were crap (what is with Gareth Gates' hair - it's a mullet gone wrong, like some sort of squashed rug on his head!), they were no worse than an episode of Stars in Their Eyes. Oh wait, Tony Hadley's version of "Beauty School Dropout" really *was* diabolical. But mostly, it was the bits in between that really did my head in.

First problem: it was presented by that bint Amanda Holden, who spat our her cue card lines like a first year media student with a boot leather tan. As soon as she screeched out her opening line ("Are you ready, Pink Ladiiiiiiies???") I knew it was going to be torture.

Second problem - the incessant cutaways to interviews with ITV "celebs" (D-list presenters, Simon Cowell and a few Corrie stars) and, for reasons that were completely lost on me, Ann Widdecombe. Do we really want to hear Ann delivering deadpan lines about John Travolta's bottom? With her strange blonde hair?

Please, if I ever say I'm thinking about staying in with Saturday telly again - do whatever you have to to get me out of the house, even if it's to Jumpin' Jaks.


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