My Review Of NOT Watching Jimmy Carr Live

I'm sure by now, people who read my blogs regularly will know that after watching a comedy gig live, particularly if it is a well known name such as Lee Mack, Sean Lock or Milton Jones, I blog about it in a 'Look who I've gone and seen' review, which more often than not is full of appraisal. Jimmy Carr would have been no acceptation. Although not one of my all-time favourite comedians, I imagine it would be a fantastic experience to sit through, especially if you had tickets for one of the front rows, and be close enough to be picked on like you see him do in all his stand-up DVD's. That is what makes him a great comedian in my opinion; to be able to interact with the audience in such an insulting way, but still making that person cry with laughter.

Imagine my excitement then, when I was told that I could have tickets to see Jimmy Carr, for free, to sit in the sixth row. I had spent the following few days looking forward to being a part of the whole experience. All I had to do was be at the Margate Winter Gardens on Friday 15th of July by 8pm, park legally and then walk into the theatre, with my friend and tickets in tow, then present them to the usher and sit down. Sounds simple. I've done it enough times when I've seen comedians at The Gulbenkian, Canterbury. I never envisaged any problems.

What ensued was possibly the unluckiest 5 minutes that I have ever had in my life.

I had walked into the theatre and was then asked by the usher to show my tickets. I looked in the envelope in which they were in, to find they were not in there. Complete shock took over my body. I went to the front desk, for them to deliberate for minutes whether to let me in or not (the tickets were not registered in my name you see). They decided that I could have just picked the receipt part of the ticket up and was trying to fool them. After becoming frustrated, I stormed out in a vain attempt to try and find the tickets on the floor outside. I left the house with them. They had to be in Margate. Ironically, I expect someone picked them up, fooled the usher, and took my seats. I hate to badmouth an entire town on this, but everyone in Margate is a bastard. There, I said it. Feel better? Not really.

My vain attempt to find the tickets took me along the path I took to get from the car to the theatre. I found nothing, so thought I'd look in the car before giving up. I looked over the car park wall on my approach to see a man bend down next to my car. I became an athlete (for possibly the first time in my life) thanks to something that could be described as adrenaline, and ran towards the car shouting. The man wasn't stealing it as it looked in my quick glance, but instead the complete opposite: clamping it. I got there before he clamped me, but still, even after I offered to get a ticket and explained the temperamentality of the machine and explaining it to be the reason for a number of other cars having not paid for parking, he still gave my car a bright yellow anklet, stuck a ticket to the window and demanding £120 for the release of my car. I also went for the sympathy vote, explaining that I'd lost my tickets for Jimmy Carr. They very helpfully looked around the whole car park for them. I'd rather they took the clamp off…

Those were the unluckiest 5 minutes of my life. Losing tickets and have some scumbag from Margate use them for himself rather than hand them back to me, before having some scumbags clamp me. A free night out, turned out to cost £120.

I'd done wrong. I understand that. I'm not trying to defend myself from my stupidity regarding the parking. I hadn't paid for parking in a car park which you have to pay to park in, and there were signs, even if hidden around the place, saying that they clamp people who disobey the rules. But the fact that I took the man who clamped me to the machine, and showed him it not accepting the coins in my wallet (it finally accepted one), annoys me. Apparently that was my fault for having dud coins. I think that's the machines fault, not mine. If I took the coins to a bank, they wouldn't throw them back. That stupid robot cost me £120. I worked out that from all the cars clamped in that one car park, they made £720 in the two hours I was there. No wonder they won’t replace the machine.

£120 is an extortionate amount however. £30. Sure. £60. Sure. But £120? That was ridiculous. I think of clamping as blackmail! If you took your child to a child-friendly area where other children were, in which you had to pay a small price for, but you didn't pay and they decided to not give you your child back until you paid a fine 4,000% more than what the original fee would have been, and didn't give you the chance to pay that original fee, and locked the child in a cage in front of your very eyes until the fine was paid, in cash. That would be called blackmail. That would be abduction. Clampers are child-abducting bastards!

I'm angry about this whole situation, mainly due to my stupidity. If it wasn't all so much my fault, it'd be fine, but the fact that all the unlucky events of those five minutes were due to me being stupid, I'm angry. I had to spend two hours in a Margate car park by the sea, watching a shit sunset, while I waited for my father to bail me out. Prison would have been a doddle.

Just in case you think I was being unfair to Margate in an earlier paragraph, I'm not. No good has ever come from me being in Margate. The Margate sands broke my camera last year, just weeks before my Photography exam, meaning I had to buy a new one. The same trip, I am sure to this very day, also gave me Chicken Pox after being in the slums of the town’s Primark, which led to me missing the said Photography exam, meaning I didn't go to University last year AND had to attend another year of school. I am still peeling off the skin from getting burnt on its beach a few weeks ago. And now, the unluckiest five minutes of my life. So, Margate sucks. Get used to!

Don't feel sorry for me though; I still went home pretty happy...

Why Would Anyone Want To Ever Be A Journalist?

Journalists are complete and utter bastards, I think we can all agree on that. Recent allegations against Journalists, Editors and Newspaper 'brands' make them all come across as heartless bastards with no morals, no guilt and only have a taste for money, and whether it interrupts with some small murder inquiry, well who cares; you could earn up to £100,000 if your fantastic story hits the front page of the News Of The World. Stupid, selfish bastards, that's what Journalists are. Only an idiot would spend three years and get into £21,000 debt so they can become one… Oh, right, yeah. Idiots like me. Want to see what idiot looks like? Come around my house and ask for Stuart. You can punch me if you like (Please don't punch me).

I am utterly disgusted. One could kid themselves that they'll change the face of Journalism, but reality is, I will be nothing but a speck of a dust when it comes to a list of all the Journalists. I'll make no difference what so ever. The last few days, I've begun to reconsider my life plans. Why would anyone willingly become associated with those selfish, incompetent, money sucking, bastard scumbags? That's not to say that these allegations have tainted what it means to be a Journalist; that happened many years ago, but this just highlights how awful those people are. Bastards!

This blog has been written slowly over a course of 10 days (however, it won't seem like it when you read it), and not because I couldn't be bothered to do it, just because this story has moved so quickly, it would just mean that paragraphs of writing would be benign before I even finished the blog, let alone published it.

Anyway, so this story has been going on for years (since 2003 I do believe), with it slowly coming out that politicians like John Prescott and Boris Johnson, as well as celebrities like Hugh Grant and Gwyneth Paltrow, had their phones hacked, and they got a bit angry, and small debates started on Newsnight and Question Time, The Guardian got uppity and the story went away, after a Police Investigation which (now, rather ironically) said that nothing illegal had occurred. Then July 2011 happened and now, within a week, the face of the media has altered drastically and Journalists are hated more than a love child between Katy Price and Piers Morgan would be.

What has all the recent fuss actually been about I hear the ignorant population trying to speculate. Well, essentially, some Journalists have lost sight of what it means to be a Journalist. I have always thought the news was to explain in a clear, unbiased way, the recent events that have been happening locally and World-wide. When Murdoch came to our shores and brought with him his ruthlessness that seemed to change. Now Journalists seek out news stories that they think will help grab that coveted front page headline (Worth up to £100,000 remember), and therefore sell more papers. 'Investigative Reporting' this is called. They will go to any means to find out a dirty secret about someone in the media spotlight, because APPARENTLY, that's what the public want. No, I don't care that someone I've heard of has slept with a hooker. I don't think a majority of the public DO want that. I think they want to be informed in an intelligent, non-patronising manner, about the current news to gain a better understanding of life on our planet.

It came out nearly two weeks ago now that investigative reporting went to the dirty lows where no morals exist and tampered with a murder inquiry just so they could have more people crying for longer to drag a story out. Milly Dowler is the first example we're told of. In 2002, she was abducted before being murdered. However, despite being murdered, she still managed to delete voice messages. As you can see, before they found her body (which took 6 months, a heck of a long and excruciating time for her family you understand), they thought she was alive and listening to her messages. That gave her family and friends false hope. That is despicable. Who could do such a thing? Well, a News Of The World journalist of course. That 'journalist' had hacked the phone of Milly Dowler and was listening to the heartbreaking messages from her loved ones on her phone. And when her voice mail become full, he deleted messages so that more people could leave heartbreaking messages for him to carry on listening to and continue to drag out the story. Yeah, I think if hell exists, there is a place reserved for him down there.

This was what led to this phone hacking scandal to go nuclear, and it then came out that all high profile child murder enquiries would have to be reopened due to it being possible that journalists from the News Of The World had done the same thing.

Then more and more despicable and shameful storied leaked out of the Guardian and the BBC, day after day about the News Of The World hacking peoples phones and bribing policemen. It was revealed that the mobile phones of the victims and the families of the London terrorist attacks (or 7/7 as the media refer to it as), have been hacked, again to listen to all the heartbreaking, upsetting messages that concerned people would have left for them. It was revealed that maybe even the victims from the New York terrorists attack (9/11 as the media refer to it as) had been hacked and now that's being investigated by the FBI. It came out that the families of soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan have been hacked.  It came out that Gordon Brown had his personal information hacked and The Sun wanted to reveal the news that his son has cystic fibrosis. It was suggested that a private investigator gave personal details of the senior royal family for £1000 a time. It was also, very worryingly, revealed that some reporters paid members of the Metropolitan police to gain these personal numbers and details which led to some of these hackings in the first place. All very hard hitting, shocking stuff.

And after all that news came out, News Of The World closed and will never print again. However, give it a few months and a new paper will take its place, don't worry. Andy Coulson, who was once editor, was arrested, but that's where this story became a witch hunt. Rebekah Brooks wasn't arrested, she wasn't even sacked. Sure, 11 days later, she resigned, but she's still not been arrested. 200 people lost their jobs when News Of The World closed, and for the most part, despite the reputation of the paper, it had some of the best journalists in the country; World even. Very talented, innocent people. Only a few hacked, not all of them. Is it fair they lost their jobs? Not in the slightest. I will give you some figures though: The newspaper printed 2.5 million copies every Sunday. On the final Sunday, they printed under 5 million copies. The front page boasted '7.5 million loyal readers'. They're great journalists, but mathematicians they're not...

So why should you not feel sorry for Rebekah Brooks? Well, let me just remind you that she was arrested in 2005 for, allegedly, domestically abusing her then husband, which was Ross Kemp: TV's hardman! 200 people lost their jobs to try and save her job, and look where that ended. The most disgusting thing about her (second to that hair of her's) is how much of a lying bitch she is. She honestly expects people to believe that she knew nothing about any of this hacking lark. She never questioned any of these secret stories and there source? That means she either lied, in which case she should have been sacked, OR she was an idiotic, incompetent editor who was completely ignorant to everything that happened when she was in charge; in which case she should have been sacked. However, that would never have happened because the political hypocrites wouldn't have liked that. Gordon Brown and David Cameron went to her wedding; how can they possibly take the moral high ground on this? They didn't want her sacked, they wanted her to resign; meaning she still gets a huge pension and other perks, which is wrong. BURN HER; SHE'S A WITCH! I heard someone say we shouldn't harass her as it's not very nice. How bloody ironic!? Some really middle-class idiots phone up Radio 2 y'know. I think we should continue to harass her for a taste of her own medicine if she doesn't get arrested, and it should become legal to intrude on the privacy of her life. I think we should arrest Piers Morgan too. He wasn't editor when the hacking happened, but we should just arrest for once being editor of News Of The World, The Sun and The Daily Mail.

This all came at a very poignant time for the media industry. News Corporation, for some time now, has been trying to buy the complete rights to BSkyB. They already own a percentage, but they wanted more. This is something I and 160,000 other people where against and signed an online petition to stop this happening. You only have to look at America and the Fox network to know that this isn't the way we want our country to end up. This scandal and its tainting on the reputation of News International, along with widespread anger at this deal, led to Rupert Murdoch pulling out his bid. Huzzah! Come on everyone; let's have a party to celebrate the power of public outcry! Woo hoo!

All in all, these have been the worst two weeks that News Corporation has ever had. They've had their reputation ruined both sides of the Atlantic. I mean, we all know how patriotic the American's are and how protective they are of anything to do with 9/11. If victims’ families have been hacked, the American's will want blood. They have lost their biggest selling newspaper. Murdoch has lost his chances of owning BSkyB anytime soon. Rebekah Brooks has gone. And, now they're being investigated which will undoubtedly end with the Murdoch's paying huge sums in damages to everyone. They may as well just send everyone in Britain a cheque for £500 and be done with it. I hope heads roll for all this, I really do.

The only way it could get worse for the Journalism industry is if it were revealed that it's their fault Princess Diana died in that French tunnel because they were too busy, photographing the scene and trying to grab the headline first, to actually help her… WHAT!?

P.S. I would love to write so much more and express my opinions, so maybe I’ll do a second blog soon on the subject. Watch this blogspot…

"...And The Kangaroo Wasn't Even There!"

Don't get that punch line? Well, then you've not seen Mark Watson on his new tour 'Request Routes'. Just for the sheer randomness and build-up to that punch line, I think it will stay with me for a long time to come. Am I going to ruin it for you? No; I'd never give it the justice that it deserves. Anyway, was he worth going to see? Positively, absolutely yes! I'm not sure when he actually started his routine. You could easily mistake him for a humorous, mumbling fool on stage, but he isn't. He's very clever.

He's not like stand-up comedians I've seen perform live before. He doesn't deliver joke after joke in the orderly fashion that Milton Jones does. His routine didn't seem contrived to go in a certain way like those of Ardal O'Hanlon, Sean Lock and Lee Mack and it wasn't a political lecture like that of Jeremy Hardy. Nor was it an over-used routine that he's stuck to for year after year like Paul Zerdin. Mark Watson was Mark Watson; handy because that's who we got tickets to see…

The warm-up act was possibly one of the funniest I've seen. It had me, and the entire audience, laughing, crying and participating. It was mostly improvised by the changing surroundings and the people that it saw, and picking on people who were absolutely ignorant to the whole thing until they sat down and saw what was happening. The warm-up act wasn't some young, budding comedian, yearning for a break into the comedy world. It involved Microsoft software on a laptop, a screen and a projector and remained silent in its 'geekyness'. Who was it? It was Mark Watson, warming up the audience for his sell-out show at Canterbury's Gulbenkian Theatre on Thursday, 7th June, 2010. While the audience entered, he sat on his laptop talking to the audience via Microsoft, a projector and a screen. He commented on people as they walked past the stage, finding their seats. The audience fell in love with him.

Mark Watson left the stage then entered back on, the audience cheered, whooped and whistled, and then Mark Watson chatted to us, in a very casual manner like we were all friends and he told us all his funny stories. He is very much the raconteur. He had stories of fatherhood, public transport, social awkwardness, politeness, and much more. The stories were gripping with regular laughter breaking them up. He interacted with audience by having breaks to chat about daily amounts of water intake and the like. He challenged the audience with a game and we were participates in the comedians strategy for dealing with late comers. It wasn't funny, it was fun.

The interval started after asking the audience for the time, and 15 minutes later he came back for another chat, before starting the latter half of his comedy routine about the same topics, mainly surrounding his social awkwardness in the real world when interacting with people. He even performed for us, LIVE, his lines for both the Magner's Pear Cider advert and the Innocent Smoothies advert (however, he didn't change into his white rabbit alias that we recognise him as…). The audience laughed a lot more, then he asked for the time one more time before slowing his routine down to do some self-promotional admin before leaving the stage.

His stand-up was one of the best I've seen, with me not getting bored and continually being gripped. When you walk out of a theatre with aching cheeks, hurting lungs and a sore throat, you know that you have had a great night of laughter. His routine was packed with laughter and was clever planned, and certainly, it was cleverly performed. I do have one criticism, mainly due to my gender, sexuality and social annoyance: I don't like that I saw his underwear every other minute. However, I'm sure they'll be a lot who would never complain, so yeah. If the worse thing I can say is that 'He showed his underwear too much', then Mark Watson is a fantastic comedian, with a brilliant routine that you should definitely see live. Even if only to understand how "…and the kangaroo wasn't even there!" is a punch line…

And if you think I've ruined the experience for you by doing a general overview of it and releasing the clever warm-up act to you, I haven't. I reckon it ends up different each night.

"D'yew Ge' Me, Like? D'yew Know Wot I'm Sayin'?" No.

I'm going to University. Yeah, hark at me aye, all grown up and going into the big world of paying extortionate amounts in pounds sterling for an education and living away from Mummy and Daddy. I'll be in the mature World of paying for a TV license, gas bills, rent and buying Milk from Asda after shuffling around looking for food. All this while attempting to successfully pass a three-year joint-honours degree. And where am I going to University I hear you forgetting to care about? The University of East London. Yeah, not exactly one of the great classics such as Oxford or Cambridge, but you know, a degree is a degree.

My degree and my place of study don't seem to really match each other. When people ask (and they're asking a lot, repeatedly) 'Where you going and what you doing?' I have to tell them that a) I'm going to 'The University of East London', which, let's be honest, isn't the grandest and most inspirational of names; and I then have to tell them that b) I'm studying 'Journalism Studies with Creative and Professional Writing', which, let's be honest, is a pompous name and I feel guilty every single time I say the name of my course. I love it and I'm so excited and I'm itching and scratching wanting to start it now, but I always feel like I'm saying it like a statement that implies 'I'm better than you'. Why I feel that, I have absolutely no idea. I just feel that where ever I spread the knowledge of my degree, I'm leaving a trail of resentment, annoyance and snobbishness. But hey, at least I'm not Philosophy!

I've now made two trips to the area now, and, well, let's just say it doesn't resemble the cast of Oliver!, but the Olympics haven't brought a higher class of people to the area. I am yet to hear someone speak the native tongue of East London: Cockney. I am yet to hear someone say: "Awright geeezzaa! Hello an' welcome. Nice tit for tat yew got there! Sorted mate!"; which in plain English would mean "Hello and welcome. Nice hat you have there!" The language now is still sort of Cockney, but, like English, the young generation have played about with it.  Every sentence will, undoubtedly, contain the words "D'yew ge' me?", "Like" and "D'yew know wot I'm sayin'?" It has the elements of cockney, but I don't recognise it as cockney. You feel like turning around and saying 'YES, I do understand you! Gaaaaawd blimey; yer 'avin' a giraffe!"

My last journey into East London consisted of me parking in a Morrisons. I was sat by my car when a group of teenagers walked past and then hung around near me and my car. Unfortunately, I could hear their conversation, which consisted a lot of "D'yew ge' me?", "Like" and "D'yew know wot I'm sayin'?", with nouns chucked in to form something as reminiscent as a sentence. Surprisingly, it hasn't deterred me from attending there local University. I mean, it just gives me something to moan about, and God knows I love a good rant about society. Anyway, I am now going to share a rough transcript of the conversation. You can imagine it being performed as a sketch. You know, a Catherine Tate-like figure who repeatedly answers "D'yew know wot I'm sayin'?" to every question. If it helps.

Girl One: (whilst sobbing) I don' wanna talk to 'im, yew know? 'e really upset me like. 'e was like, really mean.

Girl Two: Awww, why you cryin'? Don' cry, 'e ain't worth it. 'e was really nasty dough!

Girl One: (While finishing sobbing) I know, like. 'e was really out of order, yew know what I'm sayin'?

Girl Three: Ar' yer, tot'lly.

Girl One: (With conviction) Yew two, like, gonna 'ave to choose between me an' 'im.

Girl Three: We choose yew 'course

Girl Two: Yer, we gotta stick together.

Girl One: 'e really upset me dough, I like, like this scarf an' I can't believe 'e wood dis it like dat. It cost me like two nin'y nine from Primark, D'yew get me, like?

Girl Two: Yer, tot'lly. I really like dat scarf.

Boy: Wot yew chattin'?

Girl Two: We ain't talking to yew!

Boy: (Huffs) I like, di'n't say dat I di'n't like it, d'yew ge' me? I jus' said she shuldn' wear it in summer. Yew know, it's hot like, d'yew know what I'm sayin'?

Girl One: Nar, yew said yew hated it. It cost me like two nin'y nine from Primark.

Boy: What!? D'yew ge' me? It nice scarf yer, but like, yew don' wear it in summer, yer? D'yew know what I'm sayin'?

It's just a load fickle rubbish they kept spewing out. They carried on late into mid-afternoon like that, but I didn't hear the rest of it because the long, open road home was awaiting me.

Anyway, I'll be going to live there in a few months, and I don't think I will be able to properly understand a single word which anyone says to me. I was hoping that maybe there was a Rosetta Stone CD that would teach me modern cockney, but there isn't. Anyway, so maybe Rosetta stone should consider making one. I mean, I'd buy one, and I'm sure I can't be the only one. My current languages consist of English, Sarcasm, a few little hints of French, and I would love to add fluent Cockney to that list. Not this new fangled Cockney because it’s just solely "D'yew ge' me?", "Like" and "D'yew know wot I'm sayin'?", but I want to be able to successfully use Cockney Rhyming Slang. A lot of people know 'Apples and pears' means 'stairs', ‘phone’ is ‘dog and bone’, and everyone knows 'Giraffe' is 'laugh'. Anyway, so I'll have three years to learn the lingo, then, I will write a blog consisted of only Rhyming slang for my East London hommies! (Don't hold me to that though)

Two of the best-known Cockney's: Chas and Dave

I'm not worried about picking up the accent and the slang however, because I'm very hard to influence. I'm quite an outcast from the 'Teenage Stereotype' from my local area. Every Friday and Monday, for example, a lot of people flock to one of the clubs in the local city, Canterbury. I don't. I'm 19, and I'm proud to say, I still not set foot in one. I have legally been able to enter one for 13 months now; I'm yet to do so. I have no plans to do so either. I have no problems with pubs; pubs are great. Some of my favourite conversations have occurred in pubs over a pint of larger and a shot, but, I don't like people enough for the clubbing scene. I don't like being with large groups of people, so why would I want to spend a few hours with drunk, sweaty and horny people with loud, banging music which I very much doubt is my type of music. I've listened to club remixes; they ruin perfectly good songs! Plus, a lot of 'Canterburians' use slang, and I've not picked them up. Well, I only use it to mock. Anyway, if I can survive that with little influence, I'm sure a few years in London's East End will be doddle.

And if not? Well, like I said, I’ll just have to moan and blog about it. However, you do have permission to either slap me incredibly hard or shoot me in the liver should I start using the lingo regularly and finish every sentence with 'D'yew get me, like?" It's what I would have wanted before the disease overpowered my immune system…

Now, you're in for a treat! Remember that transcript above? I've performed it as a skit. I know; lucky right! Anyway, I've joined the YouTube generation of 'vlogging' now. And here, is the, video! Enjoy!

http://youtu.be/eNKVHaOGKC4

The Other Way Is Sussex

Television isn't in a great place at the moment. There are moments when brilliance peers through, like the sun shining through occasional holes in the dark, rain-filled clouds of idiocy, but overall, only taboo language can successfully describe the light emitted from everyone's televisions. Dramas are, for the most part, relatively predictable and usually pretty boring these days. Comedy's are, for the most part, aimed at the stereotypically stupid and mentally disabled. Talent shows are, for the most part, fixed to give Simon Cowell media coverage and money. And documentaries; they seem to be choreographed to show the 'real lives' of the stereotypically stupid and horny, shown on ITV 2 and E4.

With television being mostly repeats, it's not so much a bother that the output is mainly crap, than it would have been 15 years ago before we had a huge selection of TV to choose from, but it is. With there being very little output of new shows, we need those shows to be brilliant, fantastic, sensational, inspiring and many other buzz words. Let's take comedies as an example. It's all a matter of opinion, I know, but comedy isn't funny.

I can think of three sitcoms in recent years, that have come from British television, which are reliably funny; Outnumbered (BBC 1), The IT Crowd (C4) and Not Going Out (BBC 1). The former is a great, part improvised, comedy with child actors to be jealous of and wish were your own children. It is the younger, funnier brother of My Family, in that most people can relate to it in one way or another. The IT Crowd is just written by one of our greatest comedy writers in current times; Graham Lineham, who created characters people emphasis with whilst laughing at, and has storylines that take the strangest of turns and can have a house of people cackling madly. The latter, Not Going Out, has those brilliant one lines that resonate and make you laugh louder the more you think about it and stay with you for a long time. The acting may not be anything special, but those lines make up for it. The BBC made a good choice when they decided to 'uncancel' it. Also, take Horrible Histories (CBBC), highly amusing and possibly one of the greatest current comedies, with it mixing intellect with witty sketches. The kids have it so good these days. I had an idea that they should create an adult version for a prime-time BBC 2 slot, but you know what, I think if they showed the CBBC episodes in the evening, it would be just as successful. Plus, people might actually learn something about the Romans, The Tudors and more importantly, The Stuarts! I loved those books when I was child, and turning it into a television show, albeit 10 years late, was a great idea.

The other sitcoms that keep spewing out are not reliably funny and can sometimes make you cringe and want to eat your own eyes and ears so you don't have to withstand another second of it. Anything on BBC 3 usually ticks that box. Lee Nelson's Well Good Show, which I hope is ironically named, is awful, disgusting and utterly vile. Coming of Age seems to think it has cleverly exaggerated the teenage stereotype with humorous consequences, but has instead created glaringly wretched characters with storylines so weak an Ant could beat it in a fight. We Are Klang, from 2009, with Greg Davies had some great ideas, but they were tearfully mistreated, and in the true style of BBC 3, unfunny and utterly cringe worthy.

My Family (BBC 1) should have been cancelled years ago. I used to really enjoy it when I was younger, but now I'm older, the show is older and the family are older, it just doesn't work anymore. Most people will agree that it went downhill when Nick (you know, the man from the BT Ads. He recently became a father and got married. We're all happy for the BT couple…) left the show. Now the children aren't children, it has failed to continue to be a family sitcom, which is were Outnumbered steps in and takes the reins. Everyone wave goodbye to the Harper family. Go on, wave! It's the final series. Toodles!

I come from the era of Ben Elton and Richard Curtis. Back in the days when they wrote comedy and when comedy was great. How can I watch comedy from 30 years ago and laugh harder than what I do at current sitcoms? Blackadder: Sarcastic brilliance. Fawlty Towers: Unbelievably angry humour. Monty Python: Mind-blowingly, erratically random, superbness. Not The Nine O'clock News: Fantastically satirical sketch show. One Foot In The Grave: Belly laughter with a dash of sentimentality. Anything with Ronnie Barker: Well he was just a linguistic genius. There are so, so, so many more. Why can't we make shows like them anymore? Who the bloody hell thought Mrs Brown's Boys (BBC 1) was funny? The audience laughed at the word 'Willy'. That is how bad comedy is; people found that show so funny, it's been commissioned a second series. The BBC 1 controller is robbing ME and YOU of brilliant, clever, witty, laugh out loud humour. How dare him! I will soon be paying my TV license to fund television atrocity such as that.

The God of our dear English language!

Soaps used to represent the real lives of real people. Sure, they exaggerated it a bit to make it more entertaining than mundane, but it still had the ingredients of real life. Now, they seem to have lost the recipe and are now just experimenting to try and give it a bit of a kick; and they ruined it. Coronation Street is the main culprit. A tram crash. Numerous explosions within the past year. Dead bodies buried and hidden everywhere. The placentas of illegitimate children cover the cobbles. Murderer's hide everywhere. What kind of street is this? The crime statistics of Coronation Street must be awful. Its surprising people move there. The writers need to be strung up and shot. The story lines are awful. Then, they're about to destroy the Rovers Return in a huge riot. These aren't stories to entertain, infuse and grab the viewers’ attentions while helping them forget their problems. It's not that anymore. Coronation Street used to be funny. Now, they're trying to turn the soap into a huge production; like they're The Bourne Ultimatum or something. It's ridiculous I tells ya!

Talent shows are now so unbearable to watch. Sure, they were not exactly the most entertaining or morally right shows on the box a few years ago, but now they're just ridiculous. I think Simon Cowell should now just go and live with his metaphorical mistress (America) and leave us (Britain) to move on and carry on life without him. He's either with us, or with those slutty Yanks. The same goes for Piers Morgan while we're on that topic. Keep them, we don't want them back. They're your problems now! Anyway, talent shows are on the way out, and they should just leave respectfully instead of kicking up an undignified fuss. Britain's Got Talent (ITV) is over, you don't need to import David Hasslehoff for us to realise that. Britain has very little talent, and dancing dogs are not part of it. The X Factor too has gone. It can never recover now the peoples' princess, Cheryl Cole, has had her public image tarnished in such a disrespectful way. A show with Gary Barlow, Kelly Rowland and Tulisa? Please, that sounds worse than an American chat show hosted by scared-ferret-in-a-suit, Piers Morgan.

Yet, for some reason, they won't let Big Brother die. Last year, it finished. This year, Channel 5 and that bastard Richard Desmond, have brought it back. Now, I also think reality television is, even if very slowly, dying. We all know that comebacks usually don't work. Take the band Blue; they came back and we still hate them. Take Michael Schumacher; he was World F1 champion, but since he returned last year, he hasn't even won a podium. There should be a general rule, which means should you chuck in the towel, you can never come back. That's the one positive thing about Jade Goody; she isn’t coming back! We don't seriously need Big Brother do we? It's always the same every year; a few gay, very bitchy men, in a house with a few idiotic slutty blonde men and women, a hip black man, a middle aged man trying to impress their child and a few people who resemble house plants and vacuums with gormless faces drawn on. Exactly, we don't need Big Brother!

Now, reality television shows are being replaced by ‘reality documentaries’. Big Fat Gypsy Weddings (C4) seemed to be the first to kick it off with its huge popularity. You know those novelty toilet brush covers from the 90's? The women in the show look just like them. It's just a way of making people who work hard all their life think 'How the hell can they do nothing with their lives and afford that wedding, when I work 5 days a week and think buying a pizza on a Friday is pushing the boat out!' It made you resent Gypsies even more; but not as much as the Gypsies you see in town forcing heather in tinfoil down people’s throats for £1.

The popular reality documentaries now, are The Only Way is Essex (ITV 2) and Made In Chelsea (E4), with a new show Geordie Shore (MTV) slowly gaining popularity. These three shows are the tackiest shows on British television, possibly ever.  I haven't watched them, but from the adverts and from what I've heard, these are the stupidest, sluttish, glamed-up freaks that we have ever seen. Big breasts, hair extensions and more make-up than the Avon catalogue; it's like Katie Price has been cloned, and then, they’ve spread them across the country and sent TV crews to film their integration into society. THEN, The Only Way Is Essex won a bloody BAFTA! This is the evidence that television is going down the drain. Society is going down with it, and we're drowning in that dirty bath water, urine, excrement and the stubble from the legs of females, and it'll get in your throat and, it just doesn’t bare thinking about.

So, a conclusion. There is very little comedy that is actually funny. Documentaries are not very informative. Dramas are very little in way of dramatic, apart from occasional glimpses of greatness on BBC 1. Reality hasn't shown the real lives of anyone recently. Soaps are competing with Hollywood films. Talent shows are just a way of showcases Simon Cowell's new facelift. And Gypsies; since when did they become popular?

Watching Doctor Who From Behind A Brick Wall

The word 'Epic' is chucked about far too much in these modern times, and so often describing the most modern, least 'epical' of objects. Rihanna's new song is not epic. A cheese sandwich with Worcestershire sauce is not epic. A well trimmed lawn is not epic. A leap-year is not epic. Noticing the time is 11:11 am is not epic. KitKat sharing packs are not epic. Payday is not epic. However, an 8 minute prog-rock classic from the 80's which contains an entire orchestra of instrument with deep, meaningful lyrics, is epic. A long classic poem which is celebratory of a beautiful orchid by one of the vintage romantic poets, is an epic. Climbing Mount Everest using just your fingernails, is epic. The mid-series finale of the Sixth series of Doctor Who, was epic.

We're now half way through the sixth series of Doctor Who since its return to this millennium, and we're half way through Matt Smith's second series as the famous, heroic Doctor. Critics have hailed this series as being too scary and too complicated. I disagree. Yes, it's scary and very dark at frequent moments. Sometime hiding behind the sofa just isn't enough and you have to run outside and hide behind the brick wall, but that's the charm of Doctor Who. Yes, it's complicated, but only is you're multitasking. If you sit down and watch without playing about on your phone or updating your status on Facebook, you will understand it without a problem. Television seems to no longer be a form of escapism for the common person, but instead a colourful and noisy background to peoples' Tweeting activities, with them able to occasionally glance up and still understand the entire plot of Coronation Street. Doctor Who is still very much in the escapism category. It forces you to sit down and enjoy it, and if you don’t, you won't get it. Simples.

Anyway, enough about the opinions of idiotic critics, and now my opinion; which is still critical and at times, very idiotic. I have been completely disappointed by this current series of Doctor Who, but still at the same time completely gripped and loving every second of it (I did say I was still very idiotic). I think I'm disappointed because of the series being split into two. Just as you've got into it, you're chucked back outside in the pouring rain and told to wait until the autumn before you can come back. I know why Moffat has chosen to do it, and I totally agree with his thinking, the epic cliff hanger, but that's the reason for my disappointment. Last year it took about 5 episodes for me to be completely engrossed. You can't have one KitKat finger without wanting the other immediately; and I have the same opinion on the Doctor Who scheduling.

The episodes have been completely and utterly brilliant so far, and the second half promises to be just as good. The first episode back is called 'Let's Kill Hitler' for Christ's sake. How can that not be a totally brilliant, mind-boggling episode?  Anyway, let's do a quick flick through the episodes thus far:

'The Impossible Astronaut' & 'The Day of the Moon'

The Silence: Classic Alien appearance but wearing suits.  What a great foe! Now children are scared of everything they cannot remember. Now every child is scared of every noise they ever hear. The power of Doctor Who is amazing. And The Doctor; from the future; he gets shot; and he dies; PERMANTELY! Given a Viking burial. What? Mind boggled within ten minutes. We still don't know what that's all about, but I think we can make a relatively safe assumption that it's a young River Song in the astronaut outfit who shoots him. It's hard to describe the entire plot quickly, what with so much happening, but it ends with River and The Doctor sharing a kiss, just after she's killed The Silence in a really showy-off way. Other way's we're gripped into the series is that we know Amy might or might not be pregnant and we're intrigued by who the mysterious 'Eye-Patched Lady' is. Oh, and who is River Song already? Both of these episodes were written by Moffat, Doctor Who Supremo. More about him later… (Yeah, I can do cliff hangers too!)

'The Curse of the Black Spot'

This was an episode written by Stephen Thompson. This is the man who wrote the Sherlock episode which I considered to be the weakest. Unfortunately, I carry the same opinion for this episode. It seemed very anti-climax, and just a bit ridiculous I felt. I liked the idea of the 'TARDIS trio' being on a pirate ship, and seeing Amy swing from the rope as a heroine, was very pleasing to me, but it was essentially just the personal discoveries of a ruthless pirate who becomes a good Dad; too happy for me. Not dark enough. It was brilliantly performed by all involved and cleverly put together.  However, a 17th century pirate having a space ship as the ending? No, I disliked that ending.

'The Doctor's Wife'

This is my favourite episode of the series so far, just for how fantastically brilliant the idea was. This was written by Neil Gaiman, a well known writer of Sci-fi, and you can tell he is a fan of Doctor Who just by all the references to the old series, within the episode. I like episodes that use Doctor Who history. Anyway, essentially the soul of the TARDIS is put into the body of an excited woman named Idris, played by Suranne Jones. This worried me as I have somehow gained an indescribable resentment against her, which puts me off watching anything she does. However, she was perfect and demonstrated a beautiful version of what the TARDIS would be like, if it possessed a body, being true to the personality we believe her to have. The scene between the TARDIS and The Doctor in the junkyard was a great piece of television I felt too when they were arguing. I loved the darkness between Rory and Amy while running through the TARDIS corridors too; worryingly scary, but still fantastic, especially with the return of the previous TARDIS 'Desktop'. There are just so many positives about this episode. You can tell that I was very enthused by this one.

'The Rebel Flesh' & 'The Almost People'

These two episodes failed to completely grip me, and I admit to not fully understanding the entirety of both episodes due to fumbling about with the phone I brought hours before the second of these episodes, but I think that due to the fact I was just a bit bored by how drawn out it was. It was written by Matthew Graham, writer of 'Fear Her', the episode with the 2012 Olympics, back in the days of Tennant. That was quiet a thought provoking episode, and so were these episodes, essentially addressing the issue of whether man-made life would have the same rights us, a debate which can bring about fierce thoughts, which were perfectly demonstrated by this episode however. A great idea, but I feel it was a bit stretched out for two episodes, but in the same sense, if the same story was told in one episode, I'd probably complain about it being squashed. I do like it when Doctor Who reveals the greatest monsters to be a threat to humans, is in fact us.

'A Good Man Goes To War'

This being the mid-series finale, which was written by Moffat. The title of this episode was kept a secret for as long as possible, to keep the finale as much a secret as possible, and I love how enthusiastic Moffat is about keeping as much a secret for the sake of the fans, but more on that a little later. This episode had it all really; fantastically huge twists, the resolution of storylines started earlier, the creation of new captive story lines, and a huge, epic cliff hanger. The biggest of them all being that Rory and Amy now have a child, which is part Time Lord due to the child being conceived on the TARDIS in a time vortex, and it is revealed at the brutal end of the episode that River Song is Melody; the child of Rory and Amy. How do they react? We'll wait and see. It was quite a clever way of including lots of different aliens in a story without having The Doctor defeat them again, and instead having them on his side; as an army. It was the Sci-fi version of David Cameron's Big Society.

Look they're shocked! But what happens next?

It was announced last week that the Daleks were taking a holiday from Doctor Who, because they are the 'most reliably defeated enemies in the Universe' according to Moffat, and indeed he is right. He knows what he's on about. However, I do ask the question: Why bother giving the Daleks a new paint job if you're not going to take them out for a ride and show them off for a bit? I just think they should have had one big finale, before they went away for a few years, like they do in the soaps. They'll make a character have an affair and then have a miscarriage before they disappear to Spain for seven years. Where was the Doctor Who equivalent to that? Anyway, I'm not complaining too much, because that finale was pretty damn epic.

Mind you, maybe that's in comparison to what was on the TV the week before? A week when ITV had the same schedule for the entire week: Two hours of what was apparently 'British talent', intercut with half hour of the blandest and most predictable storyline within Coronation Street. What happened to soaps representing real life? Maybe they made the finale seem even better? That was perfect scheduling on behalf of the BBC.

Now, for the paragraphs you've all been waiting for: Steven Moffat. I still firmly stick to my guns about him not being the greatest writer, which I had last year. However, that hasn't been so obvious this series because he seems to have uncovered the Holy Grail of writing a fantastic, gripping Doctor Who series. He has real enthusiasm for the show, which shines through whenever he gives interviews and even when you watch his episodes. You can tell how passionate he is about Doctor Who, in how he wants to keep everything a secret. The plot for the first two episodes was leaked by some 'fans' on the Internet, and this seemed to genuinely upset him, which I find so refreshing and rather endearing. He's just a normal guy living his dream.

The cliff hanger has now been brought back to both Doctor Who, and television in general. Coronation Street do cliff hangers, but you only have to wait half hour. The American's are able to create cliff hangers that last between one series and another. Us Brit's cannot do that. Well, excluding Moffat. Every episode this series has had a cliff hanger of some kind. Some cliff hangers from this series have been 'unhung' now, but some still continue, and more created. With each episode, you gained more subtle information to allow the audience to create their own, different opinions of what the cliff hanger will result in. This makes you tune in every Saturday without fail. Now we have cliff hangers which will remain 'hanging' until the September return. Steven Moffat is fast becoming one of the greatest things to happen to British Television.

Now, I just want to cover the characters; mainly Rory. I think he is possibly the greatest companion The Doctor has ever had. This is a man who has been killed several times, been erased from existence after saving The Doctor's life, turned into plastic (Autons) and guarded the Pandorica for 2000 years as a Roman. As a character, he is pretty damn brilliant. All this while being in the shadow of Amy. A much better duo than Rose and Micky, that's for sure.

He always has the same facial expression though...

And as for Matt Smith, yesterday it was announced that he would be returning for another series, so long may the 'TARDIS trio' remain intact. Mind you, I wonder what will happen now Amy and Rory have a baby. The Universe is not a safe place for a baby, even if she is half Time Lord. We will have to just wait for September for the final six episodes of this series. Three months. It's a long old wait...

MoneySuperInjunction.com

That website may not yet exist, but if we carry on the path which rich society and gossip is descending down, I give it two years before the website is fully operational. The TV adverts will obviously feature Omid Djalili, where he goes about the World bothering celebrities and telling them that they could have gotten a better deal on their Super Injunction if they had visited MoneySuperInjunction.com first. The website will compare different injunction formulas possible and help the user by suggesting the option that is the best value for money to give them the privacy they want. A service provided completely for free too due to advertising funding.

It has been an odd week or so in which, for once, the UK media has not been able to publish gossip about a footballer and reality TV show having forbidden sex, when everyone else has been talking about it. Twitter was revelling in having 'one up' on the media and the law, so everyone was Tweeting the name 'Ryan Giggs'. 70,000 people broke the law by talking about it. One of which was me, and others included people I follow. It was just a lot of people just figuratively sticking two fingers up at The Sun newspaper and shaking their wrists with pleasure at the law. It was a beautiful, yet confusing moment for British society. If Twitter existed in the 80's, it would have been used in exactly the same way.

I blogged quite a while ago about having Freedom of Speech so long as you keep your mouth shut and remain politically correct at all times, and this follows on from that point and how Twitter has a huge influence upon that. In response to Paul Chambers Tweeting "FUCK! Robin Hood airport is closed. You've got a week and a bit to get your shit together otherwise I'm blowing the airport sky high!", he was arrested and thousands of Twitterer's sent the same message in protest. One anonymous person Tweeted "Footballer Ryan Giggs had an extramarital affair with Big Brother star Imogen Thomas which lasted for 7 months. #superinjunction" and it went relatively unnoticed for a little while, and the user went on, power sick, and started Tweeting nonsense speculation Tweet's about other celebrities. Anyway, the first Tweet was true, and it soon started spreading.

Once it had spread and gained enough momentum, The Sun appealed for the injunction to be overturned, which was rejected. Twitterer's continued to spread the news and made jokes. Ryan Giggs got angry. The media became irritated. Politicians became irritated. Twitterer's continued to revel and because so many people Tweeted the news, it became impossible to impose the law, but it continued. Eventually, Lib Dem MP John Hemming boiled and spilt the news by abusing/using (it depends on your own opinion) his powers within the Houses of Commons. The Speaker had a mini rant, and the media where finally in ecstasy at now being able to report the news. However, the injunction still remains in place, so it is technically illegal to report it even though, in practice, it isn't illegal because it was mentioned in the Houses of Common. Geddit? Yeah, the law is like a cryptic puzzle. No one has an idea where anyone stands.

There was a great piece of TV in the early morning on Daybreak in the week, in which Max Clifford, media guru/obscene profanity (depends on your opinion), was quizzed for his thoughts on the super injunction fiasco. This is the man who gave the media Jade Goody by the way, so we can agree he has an extremely warped sense of righteousness. He stated that this culture was very worrying because it meant his clients [and therefore him] couldn't make any money. He didn't say that directly, but it was as implicit as stating that you didn't know the sex of your future child whilst winking and holding a pink balloon saying 'It's a girl'.

He did also make one point which I think lends this story a deliciously ironic twist: if Ryan Giggs had never put up an injunction, the story would have never come out due to Imogen Thomas agreeing to keep it secret. The intrigue of the injunction is what led to the story actually coming out and making Giggs a target for matrimonial hate. No-one wanted to publish it in the first place. That, for me, just makes the story a lot sweeter to enjoy.

Now, I wander into the debate of whether Super Injunctions are right or wrong, and I am sitting on the fence about it: I cannot decide what my overall opinion is on this humiliating failure. Both sides of the argument, I think, include very good points. The main points against the injunctions are that a) only the very rich can afford to get them; and b) if you're going to be in the public eye and you don't want people to know you have sex with hookers, and then you shouldn't have sex with hookers. There are also points for the use of injunctions that are a) why is it any of our business; and b) it gives the family a chance to recover and stay together if the media don't shout their private news in big black letters on the front of every newspaper. The case of Andrew Marr springs straight into mind.

A few years ago, with a fellow female Journalist, Marr had an affair and thought that maybe a child she had conceived might have been due to their shenanigans. The injunction was put in place and Marr's marriage had time to heal and survive and DNA testing proved the child not to be his. The injunction stopped speculation by the media and didn't tear the family apart, but it does appear hypocritical when he is grilling politicians on their scandalous private lives, when he himself has one and won't share it. That is something which Ian Hislop campaigned for and was his point every time he was interviewed on the news the day the story hit the media. The story illustrates the good and the bad of super injunctions.

On the whole however, I do totally disagree with the use of super injunctions, as both an aspiring Journalist and a member of the naïve public. I know the Conservatives are in power, but it doesn't necessarily mean we have to live in a time when the rich can do whatever they wish because they are rich. Who wants to live in a society as blatantly biased as that? David Cameron was quick to jump on the band wagon and condemn the use of super injunctions. He is a PR genius, so when he is becoming unpopular due to so many U-turns on the NHS reforms for example, by agreeing with the public on matters such as super injunctions, he seems like a good guy.

If this isn't kept under control, where are we going to end up as a society? Will people get injunctions out to keep the results of sporting events quiet, so that no-one can report the results of the football match between Chelsea and West Ham until Match of the Day is on in the evening? Will BBC 3 be able to get injunctions out every time they produce another horrid 'comedy' aimed at youth to prevent people saying how rubbish it was? Is it possible to get a super injunction to prevent parents from telling their children that Santa isn't real?  Could it be possible for a man to get an injunction out to stop ex girlfriends from revealing the length of his penis? Will chocolate manufactures be able to get a super injunction out to stop people from knowing that chocolate may contain nuts? You see, if it gets out of control, it could get dangerous and people with nut allergies could die!

I don't think we'll stop this super injunction society any time soon, and if we could, we wouldn't be allowed to know how. I think maybe we should slap a time limit on how long a super injunction lasts. A judge should say "Sure, you can have an injunction. But, in 6 months time, the news will come out", and Mr Sex-obsessed Actor will say yes as it gives him chance to sort his life out, and all is well in the end. I mean, this might be the only way to save children with nut allergies! Don't be a bastard and let them die!

The Torturesome Twinge Of Teeth

I am reaching a point in my life when I've discovered that my entire body, and particularly the pain receptors which are linked between certain parts of my body and my bastard brain, hate me. My body likes to randomly stop doing things, which other people's body's do perfectly well, just for the sheer hell of it. My toe nails every other year decide to grow inwards because I wear shoes, something which almost every other person on this planet can achieve in one way or another without having to visit a 'foot specialist'. Most people can eat a dinner without their stomach growling like a cow afterwards for reasons no-one really knows. I can't sit in a Costa coffee shop without randomly hiccupping at least once at some point during the visit, whether I've drunk hot chocolate, water or eaten an egg sandwich. Most people can touch a shopping trolley or a light switch without getting a static shot. My ears can't sustain a winter without just refusing not to work with no prior warning. A lot of people can also have teeth in their mouth without a chronic pain which emotionally cripples them and is only kept at bay by living off Pain Killers.

For nearly six months, I have had the same on/off pain in the left side of mouth. Not to one specific tooth; every single flaming tooth on the left of my mouth hurts in some sort of orderly fashion. The pain itself is hard to describe, but I shall try anyway.

You know when you get a deep cut on your hands or anywhere on your body, and you get in a warm bath a few hours after sustaining the said injury, and it stings quite a bit, yet you keep curiously putting it in and out to feel the pain? It's a lot worse than that. You know when you burn your tongue on a hot dinner and you have that painful discomfort for a few days? It's a lot worse than that. You know when you have been punched in the groin by someone with a stud ring on seventy three times within a year minute while having an elephant truck stuffed in your ear gradually? It's worse than that. You know when you get run over by a twenty ton truck going at 150mph down a hill covered in scorpions with a snake pit at the bottom? It's probably not as bad as that. You know when you've been forced to watch every hour of Big Brother contestants blathering in the diary room while someone poked pins randomly into you while another person punched you once every four hours in the face? It's about the same as that. Really irritating intense painful discomfort and you wish it would just stop because you cannot believe how long it can go on for, whilst thinking to yourself "This cannot be good for my mouth".

The obvious answer is to go and visit the Dentist when you get a pain in your mouth, and like a normal person, I did. In fact, in the past six months I have now visited him five times and the hospital once. I've been poked and scrapped and drilled and moulded and x-rayed while taking varying prescribed tablets, and yet, still, the pain has failed to disappear. Now, this is leading me to thinking a number of things. I could be suffering from some rare syndrome not directly related to my teeth but causes this pain (I don't know if such a thing exists, but I still think it). I could be going insane and imagining these pains like the maniac I've clearly transformed into. Maybe I'm stuck with this for the rest of my life because that's how my body rolls.

No-one knows the source of my pain. Everyone has had suspicions, but no-one has actually been proved to be correct. It started life as nerve damage which would be solved by a week’s antibiotics over the Christmas week. Then it wasn't. Then it was due to a tooth being slightly large which would be solved by drilling part of it off. Then it wasn't. Then it might have either been cists or a wisdom tooth which we would find out by an x-ray. Then it wasn't. Now, it's apparently due to me grinding my teeth which will apparently be solved by a bite guard. (It isn't, but my Dentist won't listen to me).

My perfect pearly teeth in X-ray form

I just do not know what the problem is. Maybe my Doctor will help me this week. I'm going to see him about this pain, and I feel guilty, like I'm cheating on my Dentist. Either way, I think this to be conclusive proof that God does not exist. I'm a good, respectful, caring, helpful and reliable person, and even though I don't believe in him, if I were 'one of his flock', he should look after me regardless. I do not deserve this intense pain for six months, and I cannot see how this can be part of his 'divine plan' for my life, so he cannot exist. OR, he does exist and he is a real sadistic bastard. If so, he's probably German…

In the past few months I have also ingested the equivalent to half of Boots, in a vain attempt to save myself from the pain of my mouth. Anadin. Anadin Extra. Boots Paracetamol. Tesco Paracetamol. Morrison's Paracatamol. Panadol. Panadol Fast Relief. Ibrufen. Co Codamol. Pain Killing Mouth wash. And various dissolvable tablets, but the name has vanished. I could be mistaken as an addict. If I got pulled over, I'd probably lose my licence for driving under the influence. Also, the frequency in which I visit the toilet has been increased as a result of poisoning my system. It doesn't matter how many drugs I stuff down my throat, the pain still exists, just the intensity may decrease slightly. Bastards. My teeth are going to kill me, and I don't mean that one night they'll leap out of my mouth, grow to 6 foot tall and then just start throwing me about until I'm a limp carcass (however, gangs of giant teeth are a very serious problem for a modern Britain), I just mean they'll figuratively kill me.

Anyway, I think I failed at describing the pain in my dental region, even though it is a right Piers Morgan (synonymous with being a huge, ugly, rude pain in my arse), so let me pass that responsibility to the XKCD comic...

Dental Nerve - XKCD

UPDATE:
Since the writing of this blog, I've had a few more visits to the Dentist. Turns out I had a huge infection in the tooth I had a filling in some months back, so I'm now in the middle of Root Canal treatment and the pain has subsided. Good news for me, but my Dentist is still confused why it never appeared on any x-rays. The wonders of Dentistry aye...