grand tv

Due to my over excitement watching Grand Designs last night, I accidentally drunk too much wine and have a hangover. I’d been preparing myself for my encounter with Kevin McCloud all evening, it was originally shown on Wednesday when I was out on the lash but repeated last night. I knew this. I had everything planned.

The evening begun exceptionally well, the Radio 4 comedy at 6.30, ‘The Ape that got Lucky’ was so funny I couldn’t concentrate on my bath wank. I urge you to listen to it; they’re even funny without using the F word or ‘cunt’. I programmed the rest of the evening around ‘architecture’ following the union of my fat arse and armchair –actually my arse isn’t fat, I’ve a tight pair of buns, girls- after a fucking heap of bloody hot chilli, which was delicious.

It started with a programme on Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin. I’ve always been a fan of medieval architecture and, indeed, it’s revival undertaken by this genius 150 years ago. I love Gothic, indeed, I have tickets for Fields of the Nephilim in May. Beat that so called Goth fans. What was appalling was the way this country has treated one of it’s finest sons, his house in Ramsgate designed and built by the great man himself had until recently been a ruined shithole. This single building was the yardstick for all housing to following; it is the epitome of the English Style yet the very fact his house was allowed to end up in this dreadful state is a prime example of the consume/destroy nature of my fellow cuntrymen. Mercifully the programme followed it’s restoration. Pugin was only 25 when he designed the interior of the House of Lords and by the time he died at 40 he’d built over 100 building of architectural note, but, until fairly recently was consigned to the slagheap of history due to the ego of his collaborator Sir Charles Barry. Boo.

Keeping the whole gothic theme intact Grand Designs featured a softly spoken architect who was converting a virtual ruin into a magnificent castle in Yorkshire. The programme is presented by the sublime Kevin McCloud, who, in my opinion deserves to be blown off my Mary Magdalene prior to ascending to hea’en to be seated on the right hand side of GOD. The project undertaken was immense, and what followed in the next hour and a half was a display of triumph in the face of near impossible adversity, all the while being spurred on by Kev who was fucking gobsmacked at the result. As I was (we have so much in common me and Kev)

Why on earth I love Grand Designs as much as I do is an anathema. Like 99.9% of the people watching it I live in very modest dwellings so why on earth I enjoy watching some bloke settling into a handmade castle with all the fucking trimmings and subsequent fortune is beyond me. I put it down to Kev, if I liked men’s bottoms I’d crawl naked through barbed wire just to lick the vomit off his doorstep.

Throughout the evening I laughed and cried with the victories and mishaps that unfolded before mine eyes, not noticing that my intake of vino was considerably more than what is expected of me on a school night. By the time I hit the hay sometime after midnight I was medically pissed, though cheery. I attempted to read more of Peggy Guggenheim’s biography but the words wouldn’t keep still.

Tonight one of my colleagues is leaving so I’ve been press ganged into after work drinks. Fucking hell.

It’s lovely day though, thank god for dark glasses.