The Bitter End

Fear and Loathing On Marlborough Road

This summer, I have been mostly hating:

SPORTS. Euro 2004: Couldn't give a flying fuck. And frankly, digital viewers can shove 'the Red Button' right up their arse. The Olympics: Didn't give a crap, did not waste my time watching people running round and round a track. Wimbledon: Seriously, there's no need for absolute blanket coverage. Tennis on TV is dull and turgid, and it would be more enjoyable to watch a troupe of lab rats picking peanuts out of shit. Speaking of which:

BIG BROTHER. If anyone seriously thinks watching a bunch of fame-seeking cretins wandering around a house all day scratching their arses is entertaining, they should seriously consider going outside and playing in the traffic.

BRITAIN. Seriously, what kind of crap country do we live in, where our own government doesn't trust us to drink in pubs after 11 o'clock. Y'all enjoy it, d'ya hear?

DERMOT O'LEARY. Twat. Is this seriously what I'm paying my licence fee for?TV LICENSING. £116 per year? Piss off.

CIGARETTE WARNINGS. Sample message: "Smoking is highly addictive. Don't start." So why have I just bought a pack of fucking cigarettes then?

PENSION DAY. Instantly makes every local Post Office look like a 1950s horror movie: 'Attack of the Slow-Moving Old People'.

REEBOK CLASSICS. Just look who wears them.

MY IPOD. So much space to fill, so little decent music to do it with.

PIRATE DVDS. At least do it so the bloody discs work! Even an average Chav adolescent could figure out how to do it properly, given enough time.

Got a problem with my choices? Have I offended you? Good. Don't take life so seriously. Comments and hate mail to substanceabuse@hotmail.com. Have a nice day.

Tom Perkins

© Substance Magazine 2004