Episode 94. In which it just goes to show you can’t be too careful!

I read David Mitchell’s Observer column every week.  I watch Peep Show and, when I catch it, That Mitchell and Webb Look, I watch Mock The Week and QI and several other panel slows that Mr Mitchell appears on fairly regularly.

I can’t help it, I find the guy hilarious.  And by that I mean, I am a massive, massive fan.  Well, you know, I don’t write him letters in several different colours of ink, I don’t follow him round the country when he’s doing live shows, I don’t hang around outside studios hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but if I’m flicking through the TV Guide and I see his name, I’m going to watch whatever he’s in.

The thing is, the guy rants.  Not like a mentalist, just like as if he is genuinely astounded at the stupidity of some of what he comes across.  And maybe he gets a little bit het up about stuff.  But what I like the most is that his tolerance levels are pretty much the same as mine.  He is so much funnier than me, more eloquent than me, and better informed than me, but when he gets started I’m sitting at home giggling and going “YEAH!  YEAH!” at the screen.

Today’s column included a bit about how horrible people are about him on the internet.  And how, during moments of what he calls “drunken self-googling”, he finds some of the awful things people say about him, and, understandably, it’s hard to let them go.  Now, I’m not assuming he’s going to read this, but you never know.  If he does I’m sure it won’t mean anthing because the internet’s got just as many sycophants as haters (I hate myself for using that word but I can’t think of a better one, and I mean it in “people who hate people” way rather than the “you iz such a hater” way).  But anyway, he made a suggestion that I like the sound of.

A friend of Mr Mitchell has suggested that, wherever one might usually find comments that will end up on spEak You’re bRanes (see the links to the right there, just over there, see it?), we all post the phrase, “It just goes to show you can’t be too careful!”  Now I try not to comment on columns and blogs and things and really the internet in general.  I read David Mitchell’s column, and Charlie Brooker’s column, and Jeremy Clarkson and Dom Joly’s columns, through my RSS reader.  This is mostly because if I read the comments people leave on the pages themselves I get all ranty about how stupid they are.   My Man has specifically requested that I not read the comments any more, because he’s the poor bastard that has to listen to me point out the obvious.  Even if I don’t agree with what the columnist’s said, even if I’ve had a little rant about it myself, I reserve the right to feel massively superior to whatever twat thinks their half-arsed, illiterate sentiments are worth committing to cyberspace.

I freely admit I did once comment on Charlie Brooker’s column.  It was the one about finding a wife so that he could raise a little Sawney Bean style family in the borders, or in the mountains or something.  He commented (and it’s been a while so I may get this a bit wrong but go with me) that his favourite wife would be in charge of skinning passing tourists and making biltong out of them, whilst the rest of the family will be in charge of making signs telling everyone to stay the hell away from his land.  I felt the need to point out that if Sawney Bean had put signs up telling everyone to fuck off, his little cannibal family would’ve gone pretty hungry.  Sometimes these things pop into my head.  I realise it doesn’t matter, and wasn’t interesting, but if I had made such a glaring miscalculation in my plans for world cannibalisation, I’d probably be grateful if it was pointed out to me before I was resigned to vegetarianism.  God forbid.

Anyway, to the people who post the word “First” as if that means anything to anyone other than the rest of the morons who stayed up hitting refresh in the hope of being the first to say it; that makes you a cock.  Worse still, a cock who is doing nothing more than drawing everyone’s attention to the fact that you’ve got nothing to say, and haven’t even read the column you’re commenting on yet.

Diabetic moment of the day

Still can’t get stable.  Damnit.  I’m not even drinking juice any more, I’m drinking tea and water and diet coke, and I’m certainly not eating jelly babies and dolly mixtures (and oh my god do I want to eat some jelly babies and dolly mixtures).  I know it’s not my fault, it’s science, but still.  I used to be really good at this diabetes thing, and right now I’m shit at it.


One Response to “Episode 94. In which it just goes to show you can’t be too careful!”

  1. It just goes to show that you can’t be too careful!

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