Christmas TV 2009 – what not to watch
All of it
Don’t talk to Aerial Telly about the Christmas telly. Gigantic loose cannon abortion addict, beached whale squeaking misandrist, god-bothering sapphic homophobe and stylistic genius Julie Burchill once said she never listened to the albums she reviewed during her time at NME as she didn’t want hearing them to prejudice her verdict and this is very much how Aerial Telly feels about Christmas TV. Because Aerial Telly did not watch Christmas TV in 2009. He knew exactly what the TV scum were up to and immediately saw the futility of such an exercise.
"If you watched absolutely any Christmas TV this year then you are a despicable snatch with no more right to breathe the same air as decent human beings Roman Polanski has to stage a premiere at Wacky Warehouse."
If you watched absolutely any Christmas TV this year then you are a despicable snatch with no more right to breathe the same air as decent human beings than Roman Polanski has to stage a premiere at Wacky Warehouse. What were you thinking? Yes, Aerial Telly made his name by being the television panopticon1, the omniscient being who saw all time in an instant and made snap judgements that were profound, prophetic and accurate. And yet he cocked a deaf ‘un to the Christmas TV this year. He’s had it with Christmas TV and that means he’s had it with you.
He spent the festive period reading, gambling, holding court and ears deep in the freshest of pum-pum. He found himself quietly simmering as critic after critic rolled out their “Best TV shows of the Noughties" lists. Those no-account shitbags with their fucking West Wings, their Daily Shows and their Doctor Whos. How many times must he say it? The West Wing is pious, The Daily Show insufferable and Doctor Who inane. Aerial Telly has already told you the best shows. Those that doubt him? Juggle nuts by choice.
“Those ‘Best TV shows of the Noughties’ lists. Those no-account shitbags with their fucking West Wings, The Daily Shows and their Doctor Whos.”
OK, so here are Aerial Telly’s snap reviews of the shows he didn’t watch. Jamie Oliver was a fucking nause, as was his nausey wife, nausey kids and nausey cooking. Delia Smith was an incoherent pissed lush, The Hairy Bikers took their professionally wacky shtick to new depths and Heston Blumenthal brutally poisoned 500 people at his Fat Fuck restaurant
Catherine Tate’s Nan’s Christmas Carol took an unfunny joke that even the morons who laughed at it in the first place no longer find funny, made it even less funny and roped in some celebrity tits to stretch it out to 50 of the longest minutes anyone not standing on the event horizon of a black hole will ever experience.
Victoria Wood’s Midlife Christmas stank the place out, sustained as it was by the two beliefs held by every northern comic living or dead: i) northern upbringings are uniquely gritty and working class and ii) repeating anything in a northern accent creates COMEDY GOLD.
"Two beliefs held by every northern comic living or dead: i) northern upbringings are uniquely gritty and working class and ii) repeating anything in a northern accent creates COMEDY GOLD."
The All-Star Impressions Show was a show where almost famous people did barely recognizable impressions of other almost famous people. This idea has already been done. It was called Dead Ringers.
My Family provided less laughter than Big Top, ITV’s fuckawful sitcom atrocity which at least allows you to laugh at Amanda Holden‘s botox palsied face.
The only show Aerial Telly actually watched was Channel 4’s Alternative Christmas Message delivered by the lovely and inspiring Katie Piper. Katie’s message was a delight and was the only thing that could ever have got Aerial Telly to switch on his telly. Aerial Telly does not even recognize Christmas telly as telly. It is a negation of telly, the anti-telly.
Don’t talk to Aerial Telly about the Christmas telly. He hopes the fucking turkey choked you.
Aerial Telly wishes his readers a happy and prosperous 2010.
1 Fuck you. Aerial Telly did not "make" his "name". He was born fully formed, begotten not made, of one being with the telly.
Imagined: Wednesday, December 30, 2009