It's that time again, the time of year to avoid the television. I returned home from the walking the dog (through various pub tap rooms) last night to find the whole family sitting watching the preliminaries on Hermann telly. My chin hit the floor as I despise tellys in general and the "Grand Prix...." in particular. It did nothing for my mood when I noted that my Mother in Law, the queen of hell, was topping up her embalming fluid with a large glass of my Oban. I was unfortunate enough to catch the Irish entry, two skipping leprechauns, on acid and apparently dressed by chimps. Now I'm no fan of religion, but I now concur with the Holy Roman See, they do all need fucking up the arse..... Now is it just me, my illogical reaction to a fine seasonal entertainment. Or is it all a load of old shit?