“Oi, you… yes, the bloke trying to dress like the Joker and in dire need of a shave. Yes, you… put those pissing pop-tarts down and listen. The Hills is on tonight. Seriously, if you like self-inflicted pain, you have to watch it. Sober.”

The scales fell from my eyes, and I felt envigorated by the revelation before me. Partly it was the confirmation that improbable-God speaks with a subtle Mancunian accent, combined with the fact that during this time, the afore-mentioned pop-tart had cooled down and I had been saved from third-degree tongue burns. Then the realisation dawned on me what lay before me.

And so, I am prepared. I have coffee, and have put the remote on the other side of the room so I can’t succumb to temptation and change the channel.

It begins:

Oh come on… there’s an hour of this??? A double bill? My God, why have you forsaken me?

Right, a nice little summary of the story so far… not that it is a story. These are real people you know. They just don’t have real personalities, jobs, or breasts.

So, excellent production values and it looks like someone’s used an Imax camera to film their mates sitting around talking about their weekends. This stuff is tedious on a bleeding camcorder, so why does a clear picture make a difference?

Heidi has been tasked to do something… organise a party I think. Now we cut to 2 girls discussing one of their friends moving into her own place. And then a bit of music, footage of skylines and landscapes.

[What the fuck is going on??? How is this entertainment?]

Now Audrina is in a bar/restaurant/film set talking to some herbert in a baseball cap. She’s just asked him to move in with her, and then we cut to commercial.

7 minutes. 420 seconds. and now we’re watching adverts. Can someone please explain to me how this is different to sitting in a pub and listening in to other punters’ conversations? At least there you’d hear more than 4 sentences before you are forced to eavesdrop on some other blabbering trollop.There is more character shown by Pablo the drugs mule dog than by any one of these “people”!

AAAANNND we’re back. Audrina’s showing her sister (face of a man, tattoos of 17 men) round her house. She must be a frigging drug dealer or very high-class prostitute to afford this! Oh goodo, more meaningful pauses in conversation before another music/landscape interlude.

Time for a re-structure of my approach for this blog. With such a disjointed programme, there’s nothing to analyse or critique in any meaningful way. I mean I’m watching 2 dolled up bints packing ornaments into boxes… all with full makeup, jewellery, and studio-quality lighting. The level of dialogue is like something out of a badly written porn film, but instead of getting it on they have pauses in conversation and try to remember their own names.

In that whole episode, the only thing that actually happened was Heidi getting fired for being pissed at a party she was professionally organising, and for having her boyfriend there. So how did she react when summarily dismissed from employment… you guessed it, she fell silent walked out and got her bag.

The only option left is to take the people (I can’t describe them as either characters or personalities, without some evidence of either) individually, and try and sum them up to remove the need for you to sit through this turgid goldfish bowl of arse.

Ok so first let’s deal with Audrina. Brunette, seems to be seeing some rugged looking bloke (i.e. he wears a vest and baseball cap in restaurants, and doesn’t shave) for about 5 minutes before asking him to move into her new place with her. No idea about what job she does, so I’m sticking with the dealer/hooker guess from above.

2 girls with dark blonde hair. No idea what their names are. They work in the fashion industry, and seem to be mates with Audrina. Maybe they pimp her out. Probably not. That’s it… can’t work out anything more about them.

Heidi… now unemployed, and not overly emotional about losing her supposed dream job of 3 years. who’d have thought that getting trolleyed and inviting your boyfriend (Spencer… see below) to a party your boss had been paid presumably thousands of dollars to organise could have a negative effect on your job security. Live and learn chuckles!

Last and by every means least, we have Spencer Pratt. That’s right… that really is his name. Seems to be the only regular (by which I mean he’s on screen often, not that he’s normal) man (I think) in the cast. He seems to be under the impression that he has significance or influence. He has the personality of a belch, approximately half the charisma of a Ken doll.

Sorry… that should have been this photo. What a mistake to make.

Words just escape me. I am genuinely struggling to understand how this has lasted so long on TV, particularly without some crazed stalker gutting one of these bimbos and wearing them as a hat, a la Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. It’s as if some unforseen hand is flicking between high-definition CCTV cameras, cutting between random bystanders having coffee and sampling conversations. The only rule is that the channel must change just before any of these dialogues reaches it’s conclusion, or justifies the carbon dioxide spewed out during it.

Will I be tuning in again? I don’t even believe I have ever tuned IN yet!

Tosser.

He has just been posessed, and re-enacted the ghost sustaining a stomach injury in the course of a play. He flounced round the stage, as if fencing (more accurately, as if fencing with a feather duster in gay cabaret), before acting as if he’d just been run through (again, possibly by a feather duster etc). The Ghost told him, via Sam the ethiopian spirit guide of course, that he lost his life in the theatre. The caption at the bottom of the screen confirmed that the actor with the similar name to the ghost identified actually died in hospital 4 weeks later. Still, not bad for a first stab (apologies for the pun)

Part 2, and Derek is detecting various psychic presences. Apparently the theatre is rife with poltergeist activity. Other than race riots, that’s the only sort of activity that actually occurs in Oldham!

He’s just identified the spirit of someone… gave a long physical description of this spiritual being (nice trick). Sadly, there is no record at all of anyone with that name. Ah well, it filled up 5 minutes of air time.

Well, there’s a bloody shock. He has detected a male presence, and worked out that they used to work in a mill. Lancashire is full of mill towns, so i think this is a ridiculously broad suggestion. It’s like saying “ooh… he had a good nature, but could get a bit angry at times.” Apparently, he used to make rude noises. I do that. If I die, I am going to haunt the hell out of Accorah, and terrify him with ghostly guffs!

And now we have switched to night vision. No idea why- it’s obvious that Yvette Fielding can see the peroxide pillock, so I guess the lights are still on.

Oh this is just shite. OK, had enough now. They aren’t spirit activity… they are bits of dust floating about. And the fact that a folding theatre seat falls down means nothing either. Other than the fact I have spent 30 minutes of my life watching this pile of toss, and that is time I will never get back!

Just remembered something from the last episode of this twoddle I endured. They had a ouija board session… always amusing… and the spook confessed to being gay. After that, they decided that he fancied one of the guys there. It was like you had a group of 12 year old kids trying to think of things to ask.

In Coronation Street.. possibly the only decent soap in the UK as it’s based in Manchester… we are building up for a murder trial. The portrayal of criminal lawyers on TV is one of my favourite things. It helps to remind myself the meaning of the word “fiction”.

I have to admit, I am often so bad when watching legal dramas that I have been officially banned from watching the likes of Judge John Deed. Mainly because it’s shit, but also because I have been known to throw things at the TV when he’s on.

Back to the point though. To update for anyone fortunate enough not to have watched Coronation Street, Charlie Stubbs (builder, dirty shagger and general all-round good quality character) has had his head caved in courtesy of his scheming and minging girlfriend Tracey Barlow. Worryingly, Techno Scouse took great interest in this plotline. For the record… If I am ever killed in supposed self-defence, it’s an elaborate plot so the little Scouse minxtress can try and get her hands on the flat.

Anyway… for some bizarre reason, Tracey wasn’t happy with her first solicitor. I was lucky enough to miss why, as I’m sure it was a very life-like scene. However, she has now instructed a second solicitor. To do this, her family are having to pay the fees directly. For some reason, the new solicitor has claimed that she will have to wait until the preliminary hearing before she can ask a judge to consider swicthing legal aid. Even more spectatularly, she has said that in the event the judge doesn’t grant the swap and they want her to do the whole trial it could cost £100,000.

It’s ridiculous shit like this that makes people think that working in criminal law is remotely financially rewarding! Last year, we ran a trial for an attempted murder case (not guilty…justice was done). Our fees for this were paid this week, and we received the exhorbitant sum of 2,500. This included 3 or 4 long meetings between me and the defendant, visiting an assortment of witnesses, and working my arse off making sure I had found every weakness in the Prosecution case (of which there were many).

I accept that for an actual murder, there would be a longer trial, and probably a bit more evidence to sift through. However, I somehow doubt that there would be any way in hell that we could run up fees of 15k. Add on fees for a barrister and  QC, and I think you would still be safely below 35k (and that is a generous estimate).

My current firm doesn’t bring in anywhere near 100 grand in a whole year, let alone for a single murder case!

And as for the whole bollocks about waiting for the prelim before applying to vary the Representation Order… utter tosh. You’d write a letter to the othe solicitors and the Court, and if necessary make a formal application in Court. At this stage of proceedings, then there would be no problem provided the defendant had a good reason for wanting to switch.

It just annoys me… if you’re going to try and have these plots, is it really so much to ask to do some bloody research?