Having been driven to restrict myself to uncontroversial nostrums by the fear of The Dole Queue, I have decided to strive for balance in all things, which will - allegedly - lead to serenity.
The effects are fearsome. I just read Charlie Brooker's latest missive, in which he condemns Christmas advertising ('Jamie Oliver tours Britain handing out free vol-au-vents to greedy members of the public, like a zookeeper throwing sprats to a load of barking seals'). Horrified to find my new self agreeing with him, my internal organs began to mutiny. They were placated only by extended exposure to the Anti-Brooker, despite my neurons pleading for sweet release.
Who could the Anti-Brooker be? Watch the video… if you dare. Poor Cynical will be sawing his ears from his head with whatever implement is nearest, and who could blame him? How long do you think this serene, calm me is going to last?
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