And spend a guilty lazy day reading tacky urban fantasy and watching the huge backlog recorded on Sky Plus
Got through an hour of laughing at Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall, Giggled and gasped in disbelief at the Supersizers, drooled all over Tim Roth in Lie to Me, got through a full episode of Dalziel and Pascoe (Pascoe was extra yummy in the early ones), moved on to second episode…
Investigating a kid with drugs and alcohol in his system found drowned, he may have committed suicide
Uhhh warning bells, warning bells, not ideal, not ideal… having serious second thoughts, this is not going to help…
“Did anyone know about these?” they hold up a file box of Gay Times magazines “I think he was gay…”
And bing, television turned off, episode deleted. Queue the next 30 minutes storming round the house screaming that I can’t even turn on the television any more.
And then I went into the kitchen and made a cake. It was chocolate and cream and fudge and strawberries and I am eating it. Beloved can have some. But that cake is not going to be in the fridge tomorrow. SO there.
Not my most dignified moment, it has to be said.
And, no, Beloved cannot start looking up TV shows with head breaky scenes to guarantee cake. Bad Beloved, no
Screw this, I’m going to watch ancient X-Men cartoons and perv on Nightcrawler. Yeah, I’m weird, we’ve already established this