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...King of the remote.
Tonight, My boy is free to roam Soho.
Not
roam so much as
go there. To watch a FILM. At the cinema. About a car. Or something.
Anyway.
I have two clean-and-shiny-after-their-bath, sleepyhead boys upstairs with imaginary Z's floating above their heads, and, for one night only, I am King of the remote. Ruler of the telly. Oh yeaahh.
I don't have to endure Top Gear, or Grand Designs, or some historical abstract programme that makes me want to gouge my eyes out with spoons for entertainment. No siree. (Although I shouldn't complain..He
does watch Greys Anatomy with me and feeds me chocolate and hugs me when I cry. Its not
all bad :) )
No Cbeebies, or Phineas and Ferb, or Tom and Jerry for me. Uh-Uh.
I am going to watch traaaa-sh baby. Mindless, gossip filled, brainless TRASH.
While wearing my big ol' pyjama bottoms, and eating chinese takeaway.
And I really am THAT excited.
Because I'm THAT rock n' roll.