Reality Show Outrage! Dr Brian Cox in Neil Oliver Lara Croft Battering

Dr Brian Cox

I was woken up at no-such-o-clock this morning by the police, which is all rather hip and London of me only here in Tolly Maw we don’t have any police. We have a sort of militia or thief taker whose name I’ve yet to learn but who carries a stick, a pump torch and from what I hear thinks Batman comics are porn. And it was not he prowling the night as a bat, but proper police with flashing lights and chase-me sirens. All because of a domestic, and all because of reality television.

I honestly did not know that E4’s reality show The Big Bang Theory was filmed here, and up at the old Observatory in the Irritables. Things turned nasty, and from what little I could make out as a concerned citizen shuffling closer in a dressing gown (with others, to get a look at any blood) it was because Dr Brian Cox had said ‘Bazinga’ to Neil Oliver one too many times.



Neil Oliver Off Of Coast

Cox the girl-eyed expert of Magic Things Far Away (and more famously still the former singer with All About Eve in his youth) had just completed his studies into which of them had the most effect on women between the ages of 35-55. Oliver (presenter of Coast, grave robber and fighter for free-eee-eee-dom) on learning it was apparently Cox (famously former singer with The Eurythmics) beat him half wretched with a twelve-inch rubber Lara Croft action figure. Dr Cox (famously former drummer with Lieutenant Pigeon) managed to reveal his joke with his catch phrase ‘Bazinga’, but only through a wealth of broken teeth.

Neil Oliver was cautioned to appear before Tolly Maw assizes on charges of possession of fiery-yet-dead eyes, and bullying.

Housewives across Britain having witnessed live the floppy-haired tussle, tonight ejaculated. 

Peter Griff and I, the 'Nam

Mate, the crap piled up so fast in Cheltenham you needed wings to stay above it.

In this dirty old part of the city

Where the sun refused to shine

People tell me, there ain't no use in tryin'

The sound of the iron butterflies never ceases, Wessex and Westland all whirling blades and the thud-thud-thud as they pass overhead. The lock-ins don’t lock and tarts stand openly in the Regent Arcade, this pirate radio war with the sound right up so that soldiers and time-servers can learn how they’re doing. When it’s not hot, it’s raining. When it’s not raining, it will be soon. The air is the colour of a sputtering valve, the glass sooty. Here in the ‘Nam, Cheltenham, fortified and held against an enemy that owns all the land. Out there and Charles rides and roams, in the green these pleasant pasture seen. In the green, that most unpleasant land Charles watches and Charles hunts. The snort of the horse the baying of hounds. Invisible in their hunting pink and Charles knows the land in a way the corporals never can. The Animals are our backing music. We’re low over the ‘Shire and the streaks from the arrows of desire are painting the night, gold, divine as they ripple from the rocket drums of the iron butterflies.

We gotta get out of this place!

If it's the last thing we ever do ...

We gotta get out of this place,

'cause girl, there's a better life ... for me and you

This colonel? He's barmy, mate! He's worse than bonkers. He's evil. It's bloody' pagan idolatry. Look around you. Strewth! He's barmy... I ain't afraid of all them bloody' skulls and altars and nonsense. I used to think if I died in an evil place, then my soul wouldn't be able to make it to Heaven. But now? Bugger! I mean, I don't care where it goes, as long as it ain't here. So wossit you wanna do? I'll kill the wanker.

The horror, the horror. 

Art: John Wynne Hopkins.