Plight is fucking horrible – seriously, look into it. It’s rubbish. It’s defined as an “unfavourable condition” which is completely understating it. It’s a big deal in a bad way. So unless you can seriously envisage a news story detailing the plight of you, there’s at least one reason to be cheerful. Bloody plight. It really is totally shit.
Kerry Katona in Dancing on Ice
Seeing Kerry Katona whorishly gliding around an ice rink conjures a similar feeling to watching your grandfather in a colourful paper crown struggling with arthritis as he shakily spoons Christmas turkey through his false teeth and into his quivering mouth. Once resplendent as one third of chip shop honeys, Atomic Kitten, these days a cold January afternoon spent on a wooden stool watching the same episode of Last of the Summer Wine over and over again would be a wild technicolor ride in comparison.
Requiem for a Dream
Don’t be fooled by the cheerful title, which combines a hilarious Catholic mass with dreaming – which is BRILLIANT - an hour or so in the company of this mob of junkies getting gradually iller, and you will yearn to spend a day or two standing tearfully in a allotment shed to cheer yourself up. Plus, hang on - aren’t drugs supposed to be FUN?
War – it’s not all Jefferson Airplane, GI’s sucking dope smoke through rifles, and guys with moustaches cheerily shouting “tally ho!” whilst driving bayonets into devil worshipping enemy hearts, you know. As it happens, lots of people get killed, everyone’s really scared, and absolutely no one completely enjoys themselves. In that sense, it’s like one long evening sitting across a table from Mad Men miserablist Pete Campbell, plus death.
Not the whole killing yourself thing – which is also more miserable than January – but the 1970s US punk band, who combined synthesiser freak outs with frantic love songs which sounded almost exactly like a serial killer on Ketamine transmitting thoughts over a haunted church organ. That’s not to say that Suicide isn’t a fantastic band – they’re just not to be listened to at this time of year.
Celebrity weight loss
Time was when weight loss was represented by smiling morons in giant pretend trousers lying about losing nineteen stone in a WEEK. Now the world of urged thinness is awash with beautiful famous people who went from being fun-loving and buxom to having hollow demented eyes and bulbous veins in their neck that look like a collection of stereo cables, only made of actual human flesh. What caused this sudden decision to look more like a skeleton? Crippling misery, that’s what.
A sick re-imagining of what might have happened if Leonardo Di Caprio hadn’t frozen to death as Kate Winslet bitchily looked on cackling to herself in Titanic, this finds the lovebirds reunited in a film that is just one long 1950s argument about who should take the bins out, only finally resolved when a botched abortion ends in death. A post-movie black sugarless coffee in a scene from a Hieronymus Bosch painting would come as light relief. Avoid.
Click here for Joshua Burt's Comedy Night
Click here for more stories about Life
Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Twitter
Click here to follow Sabotage Times on Facebook