The best thing about being unwell (when on holiday) is the chance to don your big warm dressing down and plonk on the sofa with hot chocolate.
Failing Errol Brown's presence, you tend to make do with a book, some choccie, and lots of hot drinks.
BUT at least you get a chance to sample the ever helpful and informative TV shows, such as Trisha, jeremy Kyle, THe Wright Stuff, Airport!, Airport! USA, Quicy,
And Columbo.
And what a rare treat - Londo Mollari as a sex therapist!
I'd love to know where they breed these backwater gormsters up from for Jeremy Kyle. It's all Paternity Tests, DNS results and Lie Detectors on people who are so incredibly 'brave'. Well, Jeremy calls them brave, whereas normal people would call them retarded freak mingers from the planet mong!
Honestly, I'm no oil painting (apart from maybe some Dali or Pickarsehole), but how come some of these Quasimodo types have umpteen relationships on the go, whereas I can't even bag 1 decent bird?
I reckon some of them might be actors, you know!
Usually cast in some inbred carnival freakshow cannibal forestry type movie!
There's, like, these 2-tonne gobby Bertha's with their munter tugboats, nobbing people behind their partners backs left, right & centre. Blokes claiming to be 38 (looking like 108) being accused of shagging around behind their 18yr old girlfriends backs. Haggard old trouts who don't know which one of 7 mingin' chavs is the father.
Not to mention Jeremy bellowing over everyone, spouting whatever crap will get the audience to whoop and screech like a pack of harpies being raped by a horde of columbus monkeys (complete with cigar, raincoat and occasional basset hound).
Look out, he's got a knife!
