Written c. February 2005.
Remember when TV was good? That was a long time ago. It seems now that every show is a spin-off or a follow on. The endings are decided by SMS and the plot lines are written by a million monkeys working on a million typewriters. So that no-ones dares enjoy any of the current programming, I’ve travelled through time and can now take pleasure in ruining all your new favourites.
This week on Lost a chest washes ashore. After knocking out a lot of the lower amounts, Token Arab does a deal with the bank and opens it to find out he’s won the rotting remains of an expired person. After calling the team from CSI: Miami the team from CSI: New York arrives and declares wistfully that they can solve the mystery only after having a deep and meaningful with the evidence. After liaising with the gang from Without A Trace they determine that the Case has been put on the backburner but instead has turned Cold. Dicko admonishes them for this error and calls into question their method selection and their hollandaise source.
It turns out the sauce involved came from a less-than-delicious chicken kiev that the redhead made on Hysteria Lane. Sixty-two detectives from the 31 Law And Order departments show up undercover, performing hits from celebrities using their own voices, but are not able to continue to the next house until they have successfully completed a detour of Australian Colonial Times and found their next clue. Unbeknownst to the detectives, however, is that the clue was hidden in the mouth of that really ugly guy that lives in The O.C. The tribe wins this challenge by channelling the career of Patricia Arquette and using her Medium-range sexuality to Arrest the Development of any more mockumentaries. In celebration of this achievement they dance an improvised tango with Nikki Webster and Paul McDermott before voting Jerry Orbach permanently off the case.
With The Simpsons’ writers promoted to chief of police (they don’t seem to be doing anything else productive at the moment), the Third Watch District of the West Wing Division moves closer to the truth when God serendipitously tells Jordan of Arcadia Crossing to move into a house with lots of cameras where you sing covers and try to resist the sexual temptation of B-Grade celebrities who have undergone an Extreme Surprise Makeover and a bit of the ol’ Nip/Tuck. Jordan’s performance not only (Jennifer) Garners the highest price at auction and warrants selection in the Colonel’s XI, she also learns that the identity of the body and the Alias of the killer are located at the bottom of The Staircase in Joey’s new LA apartment.
Well, not exactly. You the viewer get to choose how this saga will end. All you have to do is send me an email at idon’tgiveashit.com. I promise I won’t read it.