Autodidact: self-taught


Black Books, How I Love Thee

by V. L. Craven


Because I have an unbelievably short attention span I have to be doing at least two things at once or else I can’t concentrate on anything. I’ve been working on adding notes and quotes from books to this site and that requires having something else happening in the background. Oh look, Black Books, the best show in the history of time. If you like books you must see this show. If you like British comedy, watch it. If neither of those things appeal to you I haven’t the foggiest why you’re reading my blog as we have nothing in common. Nothing, I tell you.

Of course, I’ve seen all three series many, many times, but it always makes me laugh. I watched it all a couple weeks ago, actually. So I thought I’d change it up a bit and put it on with the commentary, which is the three stars Dylan Moran, Bill Bailey and Tamsin Grieg talking about the show. Holy christ, I’ve been laughing my ass off. It’s mostly them saying, “Look how great/shite/thin/sick I look!”, talking about how great the extras were or bitching about how stupid the script is. (The show was written by Moran. I love people who can slag themselves off, which sounds naughty but isn’t.)

Of course, after this I’ll have to dig out my Dylan Moran CDs and Bill Bailey DVDs.

And I curse you people for only making three piddly series worth. In England, they hate themselves and they think everything they do is rubbish so they do stupidly short TV series–6 to 8 episodes per year is typical of comedies. Meanwhile, in the US they think everything they do is effing brilliant so they run some tired concept into the ground by doing a total of a hundred episodes when they ran out of steam aaaaages before.

More Black Books! Less Yank crap! (And I’m still pissed at the Brits for inventing Pop/American Idol. Don’t think brilliant shows like BB and Spaced gets you any slack.)

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