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All Shook Up
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onionbag blogger
Wednesday 28 December, 2005


The early evening entertainment was endured watching a BBC video entitled The Box of Delights. It had the sub-title of The Box of Shite. By me.

This is the kind of crap we force feed on the kids back at school on the last day of term. The plot was stepping dangerously close to Dungeons and Dragons territory (only slightly less believable,) the acting was as wooden as the video machine we viewed it on and the set was utter shite.

I wouldn't bother with the DVD box set.

mrs onionbagblogger and her Mum lapped it all up. I lapped up the cheese board, inducing a semi-state of consciousness fuelled on by the post-Christmas mouldy cheddar. I awoke to find a fairytale on TV involving some shrunken kids sailing down a stream on a toy ship to the soundtrack of a bloody awful BBC special effects record.

'This is the good bit' said mrs onionbagblogger.

If that's the good bit then excuse me while I go and wax my ears. What a way to spend a Christmas. There's no satellite, digital, cable or even Freeview up in the Lakes. And the terrestrial quota doesn't even allow Channel 5 to find a place in the hearts of the Cumberland massive.

And so The Box of Shite it was. The fucker was THREE hours long as well. I reached for the Pod, put on a bit of Elvis and complimented the music with some reading matter: Albert Goldman's knife job on The King.

Halfway into The Box of Shite and Elvis had already made his first three films, been conscripted, married, made the '68 Comeback Special and was all set to have coke blown up his backside by his boyfriends. Or so Mr Goldman testifies.

It was all a bit different to the BBC video. The drug of choice was the traditional ginger shandies all round once the baddie had been dealt with. It was too much for me. I had my own demons to deal with. I made my excuses and with the thought of the '68 Comeback still casing a bit of a commotion for me down below, whipped out my own baddie and had a bit of a shandie experience myself.

'Did you enjoy that?' asked mrs onionbagblogger's mum once the video machine had been out out of its misery.

'I love a bit of fantasy, me,' I answered.

Home James tomorrow. On the piss in Penrith first though.

Chin chin.
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