I have decided that my job is like being in Hawkwind - smelly, pointless, going nowhere. What I need is a job that equates to forming Motorhead - admittedly also smelly, but dynamic and unstoppable, like a runaway freight train shovelling speed instead of coal.
To extend the analogy, I suppose I need to meet the subtitling Philthy Animal.
Instead, I am stuck with The Worst Week of My Life, a BBC comedy series that updates the standard scenario of hapless middle class twat creating havoc and navigating his way through pandemonium.
What annoys me most about this series is its outdated assumptions, such as "it is unacceptable to talk about breastfeeding" and "inverted nipples are something to be ashamed of" and "pregnant women do not have sex" and "people called Cordelia are more worthy of attention than people with normal names".
It is a load of posh crap, and I urge you to avoid it.
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2 comments:
I have sucessfully been avoiding it for a while now. I intend to carry on with this strategy as it seems to be working.
Strictly speaking, on leaving Hawkwind, Lemmy called his new band Bastard, but the manager said this wouldn't do them any favours on the radio.
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