Well, what a week it has been. Full of ups, downs, ups and more downs. When I think about the week it has mostly been downs, caused mostly by one thing (more of that later).
On the trivial scale of downers I've been forced to endure Soapstar Superstar on TV at home each night this week. The show basically has a lot of soap actors who are getting up on stage and trying to sing. ITV are showing this every night and are trying to drag it out to run for more than a week! The show has the word "filler" stamped all over it, and in addition to that it has rendered Celebrity Stars In Their Eyes practically irrelevant.
Each night the singer with the least amount of votes leaves the show. You need to remember, as Fern Britton keeps telling us, "Ten pence from every call goes to charity." Well, that's alright then. Erm, what happens to the rest of the charge of a call incidentally? Is there an answer to this? Anything at all? ITV, hello? Nope, didn't think so.
To make things slightly more interesting Lucy Partridge joined Lorraine and I for Wednesday's show, along with her fianc?e Douglas. Now while I've not been watching this pitiful excuse for entertainment all week I did get to learn who Roxanne Pallett was rather quickly. As beautiful women can so often do a debate began in the room, heightened by the naff American judge (who I tagged "Simon Cowell Lite", although I think I should change that given his penchant for dressing like Rupert the Bear) saying that she was dressed like a hooker. I conducted a quick straw poll in the room, and it was split 50/50. No prizes for guessing who thought she was dressed like a hooker and which two guys disagreed with that opinion.
(Hang on, Cookie has come up to me, asking for a fuss. I can't tell him to go to his bed, can I? Talk amongst yourselves for ten minutes.)
At the end of the show the winner probably gets a record contract. Well, I'd imagine so anyway. That's clearly what these people are in it for (especially the guy who used to be in Hollyoaks who clearly loves himself - you know who you are!). On the plus side the actress who used to play Jackie in Brookside is the Mum of one of the contestants, so there's plenty of reasons to randomly shout out "JIMMY CORKHILL!!!" during the show. It's better than listening to most of them try to sing anyway.
For those people who aren't hooked on reality talent shows the main entertainment talking point of the past week has been the new series of Celebrity Big Brother. Lorraine hasn't been paying attention yet due to the nightly showings of Soapstar Superstar, while I've failed to get excited about it at all, even with ex-Chicago Bull Dennis Rodman in the house.
I'm also really beginning to dislike how everyone who is evicted from ANY Big Brother house now gets booed like they're walking to their own public execution. Interestingly in the same week that this phenomenon began another series of airings Channel 4 also announced that they would also be staging a live hanging at the end of the month. Of course the condemned (for want of a better word) is intended to survive (a bit like Derren Brown's Russian Roulette show from a few years ago). It needs to be noted that this "live" show is going out with a time delay in case anything goes wrong. I'm sure that the family and friends of the condemned/attention seeker/nutcase must be delighted about this development.
As an opponent of the death penalty and owner of "Dead Man Walking" (the book and the video of the film) I don't like the thought of this programme being shown. As the owner of a temperamental car of course I have some ideas regarding who I would like to see take a ride on the big swing.
Yep, the car has been playing up again. On Monday I took a day off and dropped the car (not literally, although it is tempting) into the garage to see what the problem was, hoping it wouldn't be too serious. I made the twenty minute walk home and upon entering the front door saw on Sky Sports News that Palace (who actually made it past the third round of the F.A. Cup for a change) had drawn Preston away in the next round of the F.A. Cup. Preston, just a few hours down the road. It couldn't get much better for me! All I needed now was for the problem with the car to be a cheap and easy one to resolve.
If my luck with this stupid Corsa was an edition of "Family Fortunes" Les Dennis would be saying "If it's up there I'll give you the money myself." It couldn't be that simple. One temperature gauge and one airflow meter to be replaced. Total cost - ?265. Ouch. Billy Crystal tried to "Forget Paris", I was going to have to "Forget Preston".
To add insult to injury we didn't get the car back until Thursday night. In those three days Lorraine just so happened to put us on an entertaining schedule similar to that kept by Jacqueline Kennedy when she was America's first lady. And what was everyone's first question to us when they came in? You guessed it - "Where's the car?" It isn't what you want to hear when you've been up at 5.30am to be out of the house at 7am, an hour earlier than usual. I think this played a part in inspiring an irrational rant from yours truly, during which I said I would work 80 hours a week if it meant we could get a new car.
(You will have noticed that instead of getting a second job I'm sitting here writing this, falling 42 hours short of my supposed target. Happy days!)
Have a good week!