Early Saturday evenings in the Parrot houshold follow a familiar course. Mrs P parks herself on the sofa to watch whichever celebrity show is on at the time. Making an Arse of Yourself on Ice, Cricketers in Sequins or some folk you’ll never hear of again once they’ve had their 15 minutes of fame.

Me, I slope off to the PC for more cerebral research, like the “Bounceometer” for instance.

That changed tonight. I’d had the rugby match on the telly (bloody hell Jonny, Jason and Harry, you all played a blinder) and when it finished, “When Will I Be Famous” crept on. It was brilliant — a dog act, a vent, close-up magic, a bloke on a bike, a cortortionist and the obligatory cute singing kid.

But the best was Bruce Airhead. Cracking finish when he appeared out of the burst balloon in an Elvis wig and suit. Now that’s what I call entertainment.

I’m obviously a throw-back to the time of vaudeville, that or Hughie Green, God help me.

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

1 comment… Add yours
  • Yorkshire Pudding 4th February 2007

    Be careful you might become a couch potato and everyone will call you King Edward! Get Mrs P down the pub on a Saturday night -away from those awful shows! One night we’ll spend the whole programme waiting for “the result” – dramatic heart beating sounds, grim faces for thirty minutes and then “Tune in next week for the result!”


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