tomorrow is parents evening, a event were i am given non stop praise till i see Mrs Seath or Mr Ferris. On Sunday the Sanders/Hobbs household had to create a plan going over the hurdles put in place like Jason Gardiner in his prime. it involved a lot of shouting a pack of bourbon biscuits and a pint and half of full fat milk (were not the most health conscious family) the plan how to get my mum back from Southend in the most southern part of Essex back to Abingdon in time for my first appointment the Joker Mr Ferris the person my Mother wants to see the most, although the issue is, is that to get from Southend to Abingdon takes 2 1/2 hours and my mum finishes work at 3.10 as she works in a specialist school for Autism and Aspergers (ironic considering she had children with an aspergic man and brought up a child with it) so the plan is is to have my phone with me and have constant updates on the progress my mothers making, however i may have to face 'Shreck the Joker' on my lonesome which will not be good. so my mum she's been working in Southend for a year, she's quite a remarkable woman my mother she travels down to Southend on a monday morning and makes her return on a friday night arsoned with food and everything we need for the upcoming weeks. meanwhile staying in horrible middle class hotels called travelodges in order to spend more money on those who matter to her most me and my stupid siblings Erin and Fraser. during my mothers time in Southend she has come across some rather strange and challenged characters theres her boss with the singing hip who has muscles like mine from yoga. theres Mr Toppy who nearly made the olympic diving team for the Atlanta olympics. now you have the Essex contingent a mixture of family jugglers and child neglectors who are so inept there children get sand in the sandwiches and they lose children on days out to the beach. unless you are incredibly stupid which a lot of you are you would have gathered I HATE ESSEX MORE THAN PEOPLE THEMSELVES!
so you can understand my horror when last year a tv show was made about essex. it is or was after today called 'the only way is essex' and it consisted of everything i hate about the world and essex in particular condensed into half an hour of homosidal horror, i was so traumatised i felt like Frank Sinatra at the end of his song 'that's life' were he ends the musical masterpeice with the lyrics 'call into a ball and die' he must have predicted the future because that's how i felt after 30 seconds of that terrible show. so for making me feel suicidal and more depressed than a person being taught by 'Shrek the Joker' Essex i declare a war agianst you lets see what weapons you'll possess in your arsenal when faced against my mighty army of Oxfordshire farmers, superior intellects who in your opinion 'speak well fancy don't they those posh people from oxford' (a member of the essex population commenting on my dialect and vocablury), pykes and ruffians from Black bird leys and Berinsfield, Timmy Mallet, Radiohead, Winston Churchill's god son the Duke of Malborough, my good mate David from Witney who's tie looked good in the House of Commons today, Saxton Road single mothers and our greatest weapons me and Jeremy Clarkson armed with megaphones. the war has been declared the army is ready and in the great words of Adrian Chiles 'let the battle commence!'
since the late 90's when friday night television would begin at 6 with the simpsons, followed by the fresh prince of bel air, with robot wars and gladiators to follow this was when the sun really did shine on tv and in the mighty 1980's when A-ha produced the song a younger bruce forsyth would bless the hazy coloured tv screens and programs like bullseye where you could win a tv with remote control and put it in a camper van. this war which we are fighting could be so easily with just a bit of market research by television producers so they could identify their market segment and the needs they need to satisfy. But NO so i've got to march my army down to Southend stopping in at my mothers school to say hello through the megaphone, to fight the poofta pump, gay gilet, shirt lifting cardigan wearing metrosexual males, the sleazy single wicked women who are so fake it's not just their clothes that are from China, the middle aged family jugglers, the waiting dna tests to see who their father is babies, the challenged children that will get sand in our oxfordshire ploughmans, hard partying alcohol dependant drug fuelled smoking teenagers and worst of all gargling gypsies with their coughs and sneezes which give permanent diseases! men make sure you get your flu jabs before embarking, this war will be full of hair pulling so make sure you get it cut. we must reinstate the fact that the sun does in deed shine on tv for ever more! they better be prepared or i'll start my inspirational speeches that will one day grace the world. bring tears to mothers, poets and bankers. when this war is won tv will no longer be the reality ridden ruffian run catastrophe it is today and the sun will shine again!
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