Like Chucklevision with swearing or The Taming of the Shrew with jokes about buzzing off caffeine

The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret (More4) 7/10

New Look, be the trend… Not from what I have seen of the place and put them clothes back on sharpish you nympho lynx shoppers and you Mr. Lenny Mole Face pick up the pace, play the song how we want to hear it and don’t try telling me you actually like the equivalent of Michael Bubble in French beverage form. I’m watching The Increasingly Poor Decisions of some bloke on 4od so have to sit through the adverts. Skip on through them you think, wield your mouse of power. Not on your nelly! The crafty buggers at channel four have put a stop to this flippant disrespect for the craft of the ad man unless of course you’re watching it on Virgin in which case please skip away. Richard Branson pays schools of African children to watch the ads so you don’t have to. Good to know your rocketing subscription fee is going somewhere, eh.



Anyway fuck up shut tard, here we go with the TV review.

The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret… Really already, fuck of Mr Cluny I don’t want one of your la de dar coffee’s nor do I require a monkey sim…At least I don’t think I do, though I’m not entirely sure what it is. It may be integral in some way not known to me, though I doubt it… … … Yes definitely not necessary…And the program is back on. Where was I? The increasingly poor decisions of Todd Margaret is a frolic of a sit-com starring and co-written by arrested development’s (which, by the way if you haven’t seen you should) David Cross.

The set-up is willingly and so obviously contrived but forgivably so in what is essentially a farce (think Chucklevision with swearing or The Taming of the Shrew with jokes about buzzing off caffeine). I will issue you a consumer warning at this point: If you see the first few minutes and think “er what the fuck! I’m not watching this shit,” then go with your instincts, this good sir isn’t going to be for you. What follows is twenty minutes of falling over, foot in your mouth humour and the building of a house of shit made with sloppy bricks of stinking lies that you know will tumble sometime soon.

Fish out of water humour along with some satirical elements are sprinkled like lucky charm’s marshmallows over the episode and clocking in at just over twenty minutes I won’t have a problem tuning in next week as for the rest of the series, we shall see.

As is de rigueur a quick opinion on the X Factor: This week I don’t even care enough to be snide about it. That is all, Au revoir.

Do you have the X Factor? No but I do have a massive wang.

The Inbetweeners Series Three 8/10
The X Factor 6/10

This week’s TV digest will focus on some nobs acting like pricks and some dicks singing in front of a panel of golden wangs. In honour of one (or both) of these programs it may also contain one or two phallic references.

So let us get started with the Inbetweeners. For those of you who don’t know the Inbetweeners follows some ‘typical’ teenage boys (typical in that they are colossal wankers) and is written by at least one of the brains that brought us ‘Flight of the Conchords.’ Will, a socially awkward geek has to transfer from a private school to the local comprehensive to complete his A-levels. There he is befriended by three misfits: lovable but easily led Simon, brash and boastful Jay and Neil who is as thick as two short planktons. Series Three finds the quartet in the upper sixth and still pre-occupied by the holy trinity of booze, parties and ‘clunge’ (a new word for me but one that apparently refers to a vagina as in the phrase “Balls deep in clunge.”)

I am so ashamed that I like this program that was I to be watching it in your presence I wouldn’t laugh, quite the opposite. I would dig my nails (specially grown for the occasion, you didn’t just drop in) into my thighs and think of Gordon Brown speaking on fiscal prudence instead of letting you know which nob joke or teenage sexual fallacy I found so amusing. I have to admit that the show does parallel some of my school experience (although the characters do seem to be a little old for some of their behaviour) I certainly met a Neil and the Jay character can be found in all schools private or comprehensive. In honour of Jay I will leave this section with my top three sex boasts that I remember hearing at school:

3. “Yeah we do all sorts, last night she tit wanked in front of me.” It turned out he believed a ‘tit wank’ was when a girl QUOTE: “Wanks her nipple till milk comes out.”
2. I had sex at the top of the Eiffel Tower with a French girl I met in the lift. I don’t have her name or number because she didn’t speak English.
1. I broke my wrist when I was fingering a bird on the bus and it hit a bump.

Now that we have dealt with that filth let us move on to the glitter infused, self-congratulatory public stooge fest that is the X Factor.

The X Factor is currently in that awkward phase of the program where most of the nutters have been weeded out but the field still stinks of mediocrity. Few of us in the public have much invested in any of the acts and at this point we can all pick out at least five contestants who will be making their way to the openings of grim shopping centres over the next five weeks or so. Yet we watch. This weekend’s shows offered the following highlights:

• The Arctic Monkey’s arrangement of ‘Diamonds are Forever’ being dragged out from somewhere.
• Katie singing a song from the jungle book.
• Rebecca Fergusson appearing with what appeared to be her abscess twin attached to her hip.

I would like to comment on one final thing, the length of the program. Where the hell is all the extra content coming from? The format certainly hasn’t changed. I have a theory; let us look at the Cream egg: 1.They are definitely getting smaller each year. 2. You can’t destroy or create energy. Conclusion: that bastard Simon Cowell is shrinking our cream eggs and using the left over energy to make the X factor longer than ever.

Tut tut Simon Tut tut.