My Dull Gothic Refuge

Interior brain shot - detail.

Give me strength: Somebody on Radio Scotland has been popping chemicals today in a big way, Drive-Time was filled with a selection of awful slow news filler items, each of which defied memorisation but each of which was delivered in such horrid, shouty and high frequency modulating tones that I was almost physically unwell whilst jogging home in the slow lane of the M90. These tedious stories were full of "amazings" and "fantastics", words that would be banned by any self respecting fascist state or tin pot news agency. It was like an acid fueled episode of Blue Peter in the nineties, all teeth, mascara, puppies and charity cardboard. They bodged up a bizarre item on dancing in the Barrowlands as part of the Cultural Olympics and then had surreal imported report from the inquest of the poor "death in a holdall spy" that sounded like some hyped up Enid Blyton story. All we need now are more of  the desperate slavers of Ali McCoist and the grizzled grumbled whispers of Walter Smith as they try to justify Glasgow Rangers' serially criminal business behaviour over the last twenty years. Perhaps of course I'm just a sad miserable soul and the chirpy sounds of radio friendly chit chat and trite current affairs are too much for the dark and gloomy Gothic innards of my brain's passages and my clogged up cynical consciousness. That and it being a wet Thursday as well.

And what's more: Ah yes (as above), it's that lamentable Ewan McGregor / Tom Kitchin / Dennis Lawson Scottish pretentious twerp accent and brogue. These guys live their lives in a perpetual mist of "amazing" and "wonderful" experiences, they must be knackered by it all really. You can just  imagine them exiting the privy and sharing the truth about their "incredible" daily bowel movement and "marvellous" bog roll wipe with their "gorgeous" wives and "brilliant" children...still a wet Thursday then.