I feel that it’s my duty to report that the other night a part of my soul died. I’ve managed to waste time before, in fact I excel at it, but the other night I watched Channel Five’s ‘Live at Studio Five’. It’s an attack on all your senses that’s so terrifying I’m expecting it to be classified as a term of torture by the UN. You shield your eyes from the dazzling white studio as if your TV has been replaced by the sun. This is only eclipsed by the shine off Melinda Messengers false smile and teeth. Your ears are constantly under the strain of Ian Wright trying to string a sentence together and coming off worse then a poor Glaswegian pensioner who’s had a stroke. Your poor brain is trying to comprehend the news topics being discussed. Its on par with a glue sniffer explaining the page of The Sun that he’s wiping his arse with, to his cardboard box sharing, needle ridden, pregnant dog. I’m against any man hitting a woman but in Kate Walsh I will make an exception. She seems as shallow as a puddle of piss, but I get the strange satisfaction from the fact that she seems to really hate herself, fingers crossed that she self harms. But the most terrifying aspect of this abomination is that it appears that Melinda Messenger plays the sense card, the moral high ground in which the viewer agrees with and lets the other two morons argue their retarded cases against. If Melinda Messenger is the new voice of the people, can I class myself as no longer British or even human.
‘Live at Studio Five’ makes ‘What Kate did Next’ look as powerful as Schindlers List. It’s just a shame we can’t gas all those who made this program, well I can try.
Dear Jim
Can you fix it for me…
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Cheerio
Selby
