Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sunday 11 April 2010

Three heavy dreams occurred during the night but by the time I emerge into this Sunday with any kind of clarity they become long since forgotten.  A little later I will remember that at one point in a dream I thought I was talking to John Godber.

When I finally awaken the time is 8.45AM, an impressive feat by my bodyclock.  Feeling slightly guilty about my lie in soon I am bounding out of bed and looking to kick off my Sunday.  This is easier said than done.
Eventually and inevitably The Big Questions arrives on my TV screen.  With each week now Nicky Campbell is acting more like Jeremy Kyle.  Today Jade Goody’s mum is on making a fucking fool of herself stating that there is no such thing as class (or a class system) before saying how her deceased daughter’s kids are going to private school.  Then the big news is announced: The Big Questions will be from Colchester on Sunday 2 May.  Bring it!  I wonder how many loons I will spot?  I wonder if I can get tickets to be on the show?
Afterwards my usual Sunday morning TV breakdown continues as I flip over to Something For The Weekend where the social wet dream continues.  This week at least the bag lady Louise Redknapp is missing (probably too hungover to get out of bed, maybe) only to be replaced by Angellica Bell who I used to fancy but these days just possesses a forehead straight from a Star Trek character.  Dark stuff.
Today is another bright, sunny and warm day.  All is well with this weather and it can only be days now until it starts become uncomfortable and personally unbearable.

Honestly, I really try to do some writing but soon I find myself distracted with watching the latest two episodes of South Park (with medicinal marijuana and the perils of Facebook on the agenda) which provide genuine laughs.  Am I Kip Drordy?

Eventually it comes time to fulfil my routine obligations and head over to my parents for Sunday lunch at 3PM.  As I leave my flat it is to the sight and smell of two more stinking bin bags dumped on our landing outside my pig neighbour’s front door.  Maybe my neighbour isn’t lazy but in fact she has broken both her legs and cannot get out of apartment to do anything.  Maybe.

When I get to Balkerne Heights the streets are now christened with yellow lines.  There are a few gaps in the lines and these turn out to be the spots where cars were illegally parked when the lines were painted yesterday.

As I arrive Manchester United are choking against Blackburn Rovers, running around like headless chickens.  This collapse always felt likely if Rooney were to go missing.  In the end the game finishes 0-0 and ultimately it hardly feels worth Sky showing or the public worth watching.

From here it is the second FA Cup semi final from Wembley with Tottenham gearing up to slap Portsmouth.  This game does not necessarily hold interest.  It does however beg the question: what is RuPaul doing in goal for Pompey?

Instead I find myself going online and watching this week’s Have I Got News For You featuring Richard Herring and new honey Victoria Coren.  Since the powers that be (the idiots that be) have moved the show to Thursday nights I repeatedly forget that it is even on.  This is not a Thursday night show.

The Spurs v Portsmouth game also ends at 0-0 and I try to get into it but…nah, it’s truly not a good game.  Going into extra time Portsmouth miraculously actually scrape a lead and later while I am in the toilet having a dump they get a second.  Is this some kind of metaphor?  Goddamn, this is real.

Afterwards I linger around my parents’ and bag some dinner before discovering The Simpsons on Sky.  This show never fails.

Eventually I head home to a Sunday evening alone preparing for another working week.  The night plays out as expected as I eventually fall asleep watching the William Shatner roast on Channel Four complete with a great bit from Artie Lange.

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