One of the best TV show titles I’ve seen in days. 24h Booze Britain: Boozageddon?

Someone was telling me that because we live in a world where most of us use EPGs to navigate the TV channels titles are becoming ever more important. I guess it’s a bit like the TV equivalent of writing for RSS feeds…

12 thoughts on “Boozageddon?”

  1. Morris in the background! Seems somewhat appropriate considering his penchant for superfluous mind babble.

  2. Dr JT needs to get back to work. My foot surgery wont heel itself…

  3. Call that a consultation?! I have had better advice from Nick Leeson. You will suffer horribly at the hands of a tribunal… the Medical Practioners Guild will hear of this facre. Be warned I do not operate lightly…

  4. Heavy words, but idle threats I suspect….

    If, for once you could take your foot out of your mouth (the cause of the injury in the first place) perhaps I could assist in your healing, that is if you can tear yourself away from my receptionist. She is not interested in your kind of funk.

  5. Try not to misdiagnose my ailment. Foot in mouth is different to foot and mouth. You sir, have both in spades and I am the diamond in the rough. My heart does not deserve the club that you threatened me with by way of leaving your receptionist alone. She is my sister and we can do whatever you dont see fit. Sometimes I wonder why you trained me in the first place. My mind boggles and my hips bogle…

  6. Toothless card shark. Your sister is a hot piece of toast, but when you have kids they will call you uncle before daddy, can you live with that?

    And whilst we are on the subject of training, I could only teach you what I didn’t know as I feared you may one day find me and ask for the memories back. I am on your shoulder in life and death, remember that and you won’t get anywhere slowly. If we are to meet in such a public place again (yes this hallowed dwelling) then at least don’t where those damn boots of yours. They attract unwanted attention and, as you know, we are already under heavy surveillance from Lazlo.

  7. THE Lazlo? Christ on a bike, I haven’t seen him since he removed my eyes and then put them back once he’d left the room. No wonder he’s surveilling us. I think he wants his dignity back…

    I can live with being the uncle and the daddy. But can you live with the knowledge that you brought us together? I thought as much. No. I like my toast buttered on both sides.

    My boots weren’t made for walking but skipping. Skipping in a jocund fashion along the boadwalk of your dreams. I’ll shatter the timber under foot and burn the remnants in a skip.

    Eat my doom you drowsy old sot.

  8. You torrid little rotter. With every phrase you sputter the eyes become stronger, but not that strong.

    Believing is seeing. Lest forget those other poor souls out there. My advice to them: stash and learn. Triggermortis will get you, hunt you down like the mad swine that you are. It will chase you into a corner and tickle your mind with thoughts of ‘Newtopia’, it will film you and upload your crys to ZooTube, you will be a guest on The Toolate Show, with Conan The Barber and you’ll enjoy drinks in the green room with none other than William Shh Borrows…but wait… what’s that?…. It’s the alarm clock.

    We just woke up.

  9. Dreams are the windows to the soul…

    …or is that the eyes…? (Brown)

    RING RING RING went the phone as I reached over to pick up my destiny. I had never felt like this before but the sweat was subsiding and my stomach had finally finished digesting yesterday’s half-eaten sausage. When I put the receiver to my ear my life stopped before me as I realised who was on the other end…

  10. “I’m not sorry the number you have dialed has not been recognised. Please hang up your mind and don’t try again later.”

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