Tear Off My Head and Throw It At The Morons

Watching "Just The Two Of Us" turned me into a wailing shell. If I had been closer to the television, and if my mum hadn't have been so into it, I would have kicked a foot deep into the tube, tearing out circuits and wires and brandishing them like so many electrical guts in a blooded fist. Second only to "Sheila's Wheels" in the "Red Rag To An Albie" stakes (it makes me want to kill everyONE and everyTHING), Team Kay-Daly sent me into a whirlwind of aggression. I became a tornado of abuse, sucking up empty sweet wrappers and copies of The Northern Scot and occasional tables in my journey from couch to Panasonic. I wanted their heads on poles outside the BBC, with a big note from the Director General that just said "SORRY. WE WERE WRONG. SO WRONG."