Sunday, June 28, 2009

Bloody Torchwood. Nobody loves Cardiff!

     Ah, England! Ah Wales! Ah the BBC! Ah god what is the U.K. thinking?! Now I don't know if anyone who reads this trash heap of a blog is a British television fan, or if anyone in the world is for that matter. I mean yeah canuk TV isn't much better. All we've got is ... shit I dunno the news? And comedy shows that make fun of the news? Jesus that's awful. But at least our country knows we suck. Those soccer hooligan, (football?) blokes across the pond just keep trying and just keep failing. I mean they try really hard to make great programs,  (programmes?) and everyone knows the harder you try the harder you die. Bitch. I tattoo that on all my girlfriends so whenever they look at their asses in a mirror or a toaster they'll know the score. (All my boyfriends get a butterfly on their lower back and a crazy mustache on their index finger.)

     Flicking around trying to decide which one of the fifty BBC stations to settle on is a total chore. It's no wonder everyone there is so crabby. They've got an entire station where Richy Attenborough narrates hours upon hours of stock footage. Sheepdog trials. He narrates. Frogs mating for nine hours. He narrates. He even likes to talk along to the hidden camera in Jamie Oliver's bathroom. (That one is ALSO called 'Jamie At Home'. Or 'Ministry Of Poo' I can never remember.)  

     One day I got stuck listening to 'the English Morgan Freeman' putting the hurt on what seemed like an eternity of 'Churchill family reunion tapes'. ACK! (F.Y.I. There is no good looking cousin. They're all total ug-mo's.) That was the afternoon from hell.  And it's not like you can go and do anything else in that country 'cause besides the fact that it's always raining it's also incredibly freaking dangerous. Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road and there are soooo many different accents and slangs that I don't think anyone knows what anyone else is really talking about. Ever! Imagine, just imagine how bad that must be for the people. You order fish and chips and you get a shwarma and crisps. You request Pet Shop Boys on the radio but you're really telling Scotland Yard that you're getting raped or something, I dunno. It's anarchy over there! (And when I want to smoke a fag people keep handing me cigarettes!) 

      So let's get to the review of what I'm calling the United Kingdom's 'Dawson's Creek.' Because that's what it is. It's like watching the X-Files except not only are Mully and Sculder banging but they're also knocking boots with everyone in the freaking bureau! (Yes, even smoking guy. By the by, Skinner told me he's great at inhaling F.B.I. pole as well.) But it's all good. In point of fact it's pretty freaking awesome. It's like watching The Hills but because they talk funny and are super sexy "SLASH" annoying, I never have any idea what the hell is going on. So I guess it's like really watching The Hills but let me explain. SPOILERS AHEAD. Or if you need to get caught up then here's the skinny. 

     Gwen Cooper is shagging her boyfriend but then she starts shagging Owen Harper. Owen Harper is a total player so he's also shagging Amelia Airheart I think. Also Toshiko Sato. I think they shagged. Toshiko Sato went on a date in 1945 with Capt. Jack Harkness and I think they Shagged as well. (She's a tramp. Bong!) But Capt. Jack Harkness and Gwen Cooper are all "we should totally shag sometime cause we're awesome." For now though he's shagging Ianto Jones as well as this crazy Time Pirate guy, who is a complete bad-ass by the way! When he's not shagging or drinking he's just tossing punks off of parking garage, (car-hold?) rooftops, willy nilly and with ONE HAND! Jack must really respect that grip. BOOM! Oh and I think Doc Harper is dead, or he did die but then he was shagged back to life for a bit? Something like that.

     So many people are doing the nasty on that show that I can't even keep track of it anymore. Season two is up and I can't wait to see who catches the space-clap in that new mini-series that's on the telly this summer. 

     However the one thing I really hate about the program is that it's a TOTAL rip-off of Doctor Who. The similarities seem to be endless. I mean who the hell do these Torchwood freaks think they are?! If Eva Myles didn't make such a good omlett I would delete her from my life forever. But despite all the aliens and monsters and time travel let us all be real for a quick second. She can really wear the shit out of that t-shirt! Torchwood is bloody right!

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