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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Bit of a shitty day today, truth be told. The first blow came when the agency rang me this morning to tell me that I have officially got a job, starting the 1st of September. The girl breaking the new sounded incredibly cheery, and seemed a bit surprised and slightly miffed that I wasn't joining in with the celebrations. A bit of stupid thing to be actually pissed off about, but it's put me on a right downer - just the thought of sitting in some soulless office at the end of summer and endlessly shuffling paper around the desk makes me actually develop an ulcer. If I don't have internet access, I may well be forced to give up living completely and offer myself up for a labotomy.

The second blow came about ten minutes in to Bradley Walsh's show at the Assembly Rooms when it dawned on me that I had made a very grave mistake ever volunteering to go to review this show. Reviewing, you see, means that you can't up and leave in the middle of a show, regardless of how horrific it is, as complaints and eyebrows will be raised, and the trouble that ensues really isn't worth it. Even so, I was greatly tempted as he trotted out every tired cliche known to man and comedian, and the entire audience lapped it up like the slavering idiots that they obviously were. If you have respect for yourself, then don't go along. Although if you are the Comedy Terrorist, please go and hijack this show. I'd love to see Walsh's smugly complacent face then.

The show is bound to sell out, and my review (which should be published on Thursday) will do nothing to stop Walsh's evil regime.

So instead of being at a party tonight, I'm sitting in my front room writing this crap and listening to David Gray, as if I wasn't depressed enough. I've done nothing to deserve this, I tells ya.


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