Like a dog with two dicks, I prepared everything for this televisual feast. I’d laid out my threads for the following day, eaten my weight in roast chicken, rolled a spliff the size of Ron Jeremy’s engorged winky and poured a glass of wine that would’ve shut Keith Floyd up, for over an hour.
I’d been seeing the trailers for a few days before, there was a clip from Kickstart, my favourite show of all time bar none. That was more than enough to have me spot welded into position but there was more, oh so much more!
Before the show began I read the preview again in The Observer, the reviewer was virtually dribbling seconds old semen over the page at the quality of ‘banter’ how hard it was to actually do natural ‘banter’ he even went so far as have a pop at Jimmy Carr for his lack of ‘banter’ and pointed at this programme, at Frost and Pegg’s Perfect Night In, as the quintessential epitome of how to do it right. I mean all this and the thrust of the show wasn’t even important enough to detail, it was a given it was going to be fucking ace!
Hurray!
At last it began. I was on the edge of my seat, almost clapping in pre-adolescent delight as these two comedy demigods (Simon in particular, I mean, if he were to die - unless I did - I would) appeared in their ‘front room’ and started ‘bantering’
After a few minutes I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching, yes, I was still smiling but what was this? Doubts? Nick wasn’t annoying me; he didn’t seem unwilling, crotchety even? Of course not, I laughed again a bit. Come on lads I willed, COME ON…
The clips flopped into view, strange choices some of them I thought to myself cheerfully, lots of obscure kids shows, some of which I remember as being, well, shit. Animal Magic bored the fuck out of me for example, yet here it was. I hated that Kia Ora advert by the way and I think choosing extremely dubious footage of Vanessa Paradis wearing a tiny weeny skirt and knee high socks singing Joe Le Taxi when she was fucking 15 was a very odd selection. I’d have kept that one quiet.
Simon and Nick also have cack taste in music, it’s one thing to like hip hop which I don’t understand, frankly, but to discover heavy metal via Iron Maiden who are one of the un-heaviest metal outfits after Saxon and Thor is akin to discovering the works of Dostoyevsky via Jeffrey Archer.
After an age, my enthusiasm dwindled like a bistro night-light, though I maintained my slot on the couch. The banter was a bit confrontational; Simon seemed to be struggling with Nick? No, must be me. Hey they’re laughing at something not funny again…
All of a sudden I noticed I was checking my emails. I snapped out of it and returned to the couch, willing them on. Come lads, for me, for England…
Then at last the Kickstart footage kicked off, instantly my enthusiasm returned with such aplomb that I snapped forwards, elbows on knees, hands supporting face, grinning like a croc in a paddling pool anticipating the school holidays, yeah?
The clip they used was the very same clip in the advert apart from split second footage of a French bloke riding slowly past, and a shot of the woefully shit Peter Purves singing the theme tune, and that was it.
That was it for me too. I was so upset I didn’t even want to watch the excellent Spaced in case the carry-over disappointment took off its trousers and laid a cable over that too.
It’s not that I’m angry lads. I’m just very, very hurt.
