There are more questions than answers

It is mid-morning Sunday and The Lovely S and I are in bed.

She is watching Hollyoaks and I’m doing internetty things.

The debris of breakfast is scattered on the floor.

I’ve done my usual internetty things: checked my bloglines, checked my email, checked my blog comments, read BBC News, read my favourite tabloid (The Daily Mail online).

But propped up here in bed, the sounds and sights of Hollyoaks intrude in my zone of concentration.

And questions get asked.

Who are they and why are they in someone else’s bed having sex?

And who are those two guys and why are they snogging?

And why is nerdy-looking-geeky-boy trying to find his father (who plainly is nerdy-looking-geeky-man from Last of the Summer Wine).

And why are Goth boy and girl being so mean to him?

And who has just sent me a text?

And why is nerdy-looking-geeky-boy calling that tree ‘Dad’?

Ah, respite.

The adverts appear and so does the final Bamboozle question.

I’ve answered a few.

I need a poo.

Ah, the text is from little Karen, apparently – despite the snow! – we might still be on for cross country schooling this afternoon (though I feel very uncertain about it right now).

Anyway, back to Hollyoaks.

So, that teacher has had sex with his (female) student who he’s just cut short in front of someone (probably his girlfriend) and introduced her as ‘a friend of a student who’s having a few problems’?

Really?

Is this the very best plot writing available to the British television media these days?

Christ, how mediocre.

Are the writers timid or do they just rehash storylines that were first aired 40 years ago?

Are there no new storylines?

Or are the writers so young themselves that they are unadventurous and lacking the initiative to look outside of the box?

And that guy… the priest. How old is he?

Looks about 12.

The blonde guy with the faux Belfast accent – shocking, absolutely the worst accent since I started doing Geordie when I was 16.

Anyway, enough from the television.

The poo calls (but not literally, OK?).

And I need a shower and a shave and I’m going to have to leave in about an hour to check out the cross country course before making a decision on ‘go’ or ‘no go’.

So I’ll see you later, OK?

Keep ’em peeled!

🙂

B.