Charlie Brooker. Charlie. Brooker.
It's symbolic of my change in fortunes over these last twelve months that in my previous position I was able to regale my amused staff with passages from "Dawn of the Dumb" during shief briefings, even composing amusing pages with amusing allusions to the mentally-sedentary daywalkers amusingly stumbling among us, whereas now...
Now I have to put up with a couple of kids with A-Levels in "Media Studies" tell me that Dead Set will be rubbish (and it was unfortunately not as genius as I'd hoped it would've ought've been). I actually felt as though I had lost face by insisting on Charlie Brooker's genius. Have I betrayed him? Did I hear a cock crow thrice? Or a crow cock perhaps? I don't know birds.
But he's back on BBC Four with more stuff. Why not take a look at this knockabout laffarama?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiwmYjk9ARA
Nathan Barley was the business though, the business turned inside out so you read the future in the outie entrails dangling from its twisted ribs. It was a dark future. So dark and shiny I could see my drooling face in it. I rise about eleven o'clock. By then the idiots have already got up and had their first coffee of the day. I am an after-idiot.
Eat this, ya mencaps - www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4mpJumHU-w
Yeah, I know you know. But my brain asphixiates itself with the giddying excitement of all this, dig?
Your pal, Coc x
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