Dirty Laundry

So things have got that bad, I have sunk to new depths of TV watching horror. I watched Trisha. The unavoidable bane of ill people's lives. But since when has the Trisha show been called just Trisha Goddard?

I mean, I almost missed it for goodness sake! And how would I have been able to return to work tomorrow as a self-respecting, legitimatly ill person had I not whiled away the hours watching insincere chat show hosts making connections between unsightly scars and additional weight, and a lack of motherly affection with the need to scratch your partner's eyes out?

Talking of insincere chat show hosts - does anyone watch Cheaters? I, of course, don't. I would never lower myself to such television banality, I have just heard stories. And maybe seen small snippets whilst flicking in the breaks... ahem.

But oh my goodness, the host of that programme is soooooo insincere. Surely there must be some sort of laws he's breaking with his inciteful coercion of poor miserable souls. A coercion which convinces them that yes, they want to sink to that level of complete lack of dignity and self worth where they chase their "loved one" around a car park asking "why, why, who the f**k is this dirty wh*re", while said "loved one" scrambles to put their pants (UK sense, not US) back on their dirty, cheat'n ass? (That's of course what I have heard happens... I repeat, I have not watched this trash).

Nothing like airing your dirty laundry in public, eh. Well, I guess we've all got to get our fifteen minutes somehow...

p.s. ok, fine, so I might have watched cheaters once or twice. God. There's no need to be like that about it.