“So, please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
go throw your TV set away,
and in its place you can install
a lovely bookcase on the wall.”
Yes. Yes, I am that bored that I have to write about Coronation Street. There is nothing on television. Fifty channels and nothing to watch except American sitcoms and English soaps. And there will be nothing on for the forseeable. Merlin and Doctor Who, I’m told, are returning in the “autumn”. Please, please let “autumn” mean September!
And I am currently reading The Gormenghast Trilogy. So there’ll be no book reviews for a while. (1000 pages, people!)
Therefore, we are stuck with “the street”. Coronation Street, where no one has a normal marriage and the people have screaming matches in the street and there are caring messages over the credits. “If you have been affected by Tyrone’s story…”
And have you noticed? No pregnancy is straightforward. Kirsty is bonkers, Katie had her baby in the middle of the nativity play and Hope was premature.
Oh, and the other day someone beat her husband up with a plastic hoover tube.
Now, I’m sorry, but a plastic hoover tube is simply too light to do any damage. Or even to hurt that much.
The other main story of the week is Ryan taking drugs. Ryan, that is, who is plainly not Ryan. My sister tells me that this is because real Ryan didn’t want to come back to the show. So they got someone else to play him. That’s just ridiculous. If he won’t come back, don’t write him back in. Getting someone else is annoying and unbelievable.
What am I saying? It’s all unbelievable.
I give up.