Planet of the Gripes

Do you think the producers of the BBC talent show I'll Do Anything gave any thought to the possibility that having terrified, pressurised children in a talent show, desperate to please their parents, willing to do 'anything' to succeed might seem a bit seedy?

Maybe it's just me, but it conjures up disturbing images, and I resent it. Damn you, BBC.

"Please sir, can I have some more?"

*Shudder*

***

It snowed yesterday! And everyone was amazed, sending in pictures of their gardens. "Here's my garden on a so-called - heh- "sunny" spring day!", they all said, thinking they were funny.

Snow's one of those things that we're always impressed with, even though we've seen it hundreds of times before.

I can understand if we lived in Borneo or somewhere. But it snows reasonably often here.

And still, there I was, looking out the window at the snow in awe.

There must be some evolutionary benefit of our being impressed by the same old shit. I suppose if we weren't able to find beauty in things, no matter how often we see them, we might all commit suicide out of boredom.

I think it's called Dog In The Playground Syndrome (DITPS), which has been discussed by several thousand mediocre stand-up comedians.

The biggest offender in this regard is fireworks.

Fireworks.

At least once a year we huddle in the cold, watching flashes of lights in the sky. And they're always pretty much the same. I don't know what I'm expecting. I suppose I think they might try something new one day, like a massive glowing orb that plummets to earth, or a glowing effigy of Peter Crouch doing his robot dance. But it's always the same bangs and showers and lights.

And no-one seems to notice that they've seen it a million times before.

"Oooh! Aaaah!"

And I shout at them: "You fools! This doesn't merit an 'oooh' or an 'aaah'! You saw this last year, remember?"

And they look confused, as though they've been hypnotised, and their gaze wanders back to the sky.

"Wow, that was a good one!"

Then I put my head in my hands and collapse, and berate the world like Heston at the end of Planet of the Apes.

But out of the corner of my eye, some of the light from the display is refracted through my streaming tears, and I look up tentatively. Then I stand.

Then I say "Oooh. That was a good one".

I'm one of them! I'm one of you! I love fireworks and the snow! (Hey, imagine fireworks IN THE SNOW. That would be amazing.)

Oh... oh God...

You maniacs! You did it! Damn you! God Damn you all to Hell!