Half-arsed TV critic. 

I’ve started watching stuff on Amazon Prime at last. Found Transparent Seasons 1 and 2 to be particularly enjoyable and practically perfect in every way and can thoroughly recommend same. 

I proclaimed loudly to Mrs ‘Baps as we lounged in bed binge-watching Season 2 that it was possibly the best tv I’d ever laid eyes on. A bold claim from the woman who half watches telly while plittering with her phone/iPad/dog and hardly gets to the end of a programme without exclaiming “well THIS is pish”

My attention (-span of a gnat) was turned to Mr Robot on Amazon Prime at 2am yesterday when I randomly woke up to what I thought was an earth tremor (damn those bloody tectonic plates!) but was actually just Tucker having a scratch and making the bed shoogle. Yes my dog sleeps on my bed; judge not, lest ye be judged. 

He’s really bugging my chi this week. I nipped home at lunchtime today and found a square of dark chocolate with canine teeth marks lying in the middle of the living room floor amidst a pile of chittered silver paper. He’d obviously been parkouring round the living room flinging himself from chair to table to shabby chic’d sideboard to get at my half a bar of special dark chocolate (fae Lidl, since you ask). 

A quick Google and phone call and subsequent visit to the vet later – I didn’t take him – I’ve got crippling vet phobia and would probably pee on the floor of the vet’s surgery if I took him.  I’m too traumatised following his drama queen antics and bad reputation at the previous vet whom I suspect hated both Tucker and me and wished he could just pop us both off to sleep and deny all knowledge of having seen us. No, the vet visits are undertaken by a third party – usually Mrs ‘Baps if she’s here. But she wasn’t, damn her, so I’d to beg my son-in-law to do the deed. 

Anyway he’s fine now but I did want to boot his furry little arse into next week for causing me momentary lunchtime grief. The dog; not the son-in-law. 

Back to the highly acclaimed Mr Robot on Amazon Prime: I had high hopes for it but I’m afraid I turned it off after twenty minutes. Young, socially awkward, possibly autistic computer wunderkind works in cyber security by day and hacker by night. Yawwwn. Heard it all before. Oh yes he’s clearly good at hammering commands in to a computer but can he crochet a granny square? Make a cheese soufflé? Poach an egg satisfactorily? I very much doubt it. Just because he’s good at computers and shit doesn’t make him a genius. Just different skills for different ummm… folks innit? I rest my case. 

And why do people on tv always work ridiculous hours? I’m not impressed by your presenteeism. Get home. Then you’ll have time to learn how to crochet a granny square. You’ll thank me.

Interestingly (arguably)  I’ve a bag full of crocheted granny squares somewhere. The gaps between my crocheting frenzies are so large I have to watch YouTube tutorials to refresh my memory every time I take the notion again. I can’t hack a massive corporation’s computer systems though, despite my Bachelor of Science status, so quid pro quo, Clarice, as my granny was wont to say. 

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