Dreadful Nonsense

This morning, the fool JC emailed me again. Cap in hand, apparently. Although the contents of his email, reproduced below almost exactly as he wrote them, weren't quite as grovelling as I would have liked. This is an example, people, of someone with too much time on his hands.

"You can turn a phrase when you want to can't you!!! I actually saw you in O' Connell Street in 1916 as you were saying all that. You were on a plinth, the crowds were roaring their approval. The sun shone down and warmed our newly hopeful faces. YOU WERE RIGHT!!!! We would never again be spoon-fed by faceless dollar worshipping tv executives. We DO have the right to let them know when they've done wrong. As your speech reached it's epoch shattering climax we cheered all the louder. Maybe if we hadn't.... Well. Things might have been different...

Our loud cheers covered up the distant rumble of a WB gunboat gliding up the Liffey. We saw it but it was too late. Joss Whedon was bound to the barrell of a big gun. In front of the horrified women and children a WB executive calmly stepped forward and slit him open like a pig. His creative and highly talented insides splattering the deck. All was quiet for what seemed like an eternity and then the guns started firing. I was only a lad of eighteen at the time but as I looked up at you, as the heavy bullets tore through you making it seem like you were performing some horrific dance my mind felt as old as time. You stood there for a moment and then fell. You landed on top of me and we crashed to the ground. I rolled you over. Brushing your hair and streaks of blood from your eyes. "[Shazzle]?" I whispered. "[Shazzle], you can't die. If you die then Angel dies with you!" Your eyes opened, there was something different about them. They were bright yellow, your teeth, your teeth seemed sharp, long... "ANGEL WILL NEVER DIE!!!" you whispered but to me it sounded like the loneliest breeze blowing through the emptiest part of hell. Then faster than I could see you sank your teeth into my chest and fed... I was only eighteen. I still am.

Now. Well. Now it's now. 2004 I walk the earth alone trying to persuade TV executives not to cancel cherished TV series and to bring back those that should never have been taken from us. You are gone. We walked the earth together for over fifty years. I killed you on a glacier in the arctic in 1983. You had gone mad with power and were trying to get them to bring back Wanderley Wagon. I had to stop you.

I finally succeeded in getting them to bring back Doctor Who. I think somewhere you are smiling at me. Proud of what I have achieved. I am so tired. I want to sleep. I can never sleep. This is my gift. My curse..."

This entry was posted on 30 March 2004 at 1:01 pm. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

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