At least there’s a silver lining…

As regular readers of my erratic missives might realise, I have a sleep schedule that is also erratic. This means most nights I head to bed around 1am while the Seagull kicks me. Because that’s what co-sleeping and attachment parenting is all about: getting a size three to the fun bags.

Most nights are spent alternately haranguing or being harangued by the Intoxicating Dubliner who, it must be said, generously makes himself available thanks to his own erratic sleep schedule.

But tonight was different – tonight I bathed in a trinity of trashtastically fantastic programming.

First up: Batman Begins. One day I’ll even watch it with the sound on. I’ll get back to you on that. Notable for footage of Katie Holmes with the final flicker of life burning like a wavering ember.

Next up: Dog Soldiers. Oh come on, are you quibbling with me that this gruesomely funny film about some British soldiers up in a Scottish glen fighting off some hairy men in suits is the best of British cinema? Don’t make me arch my eyebrow at you. No. Don’t.

Then, just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, the programming gods blew me a kiss.

They played Pimp My Ride.

Things to note about Pimp My Ride:

• The board table meetings. So spontaneous. So lively. I’ve not seen such nodding since Sid and Nance last booked into the Chelsea.
• Why is it that it’s cool for men to wield a sewing machine in the name of upholstery but not in any other situation
• Buck: he fucking sucked.
• I still miss Aron.
• Admit it: you want to slap Mad Mike.
• But smoke a bowl with big fat white boy, piercing boy and Dane
• WHO THE FUCK NEEDS THREE PLAYSTATIONS IN ONE CAR?
• But doesn’t need space in their boot? No, that’s right, FILL IT WITH 17 TELEVISIONS. KYTHXBAI
• Featured car owners are normally economically disadvantaged in some way, hence why we’re all supposed to murmur soft words about West Coast’s largess. Until you ponder how these twits are going to afford car insurance.
• “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t think anything will ever beat that.” No, no. Nothing. He’ll be there in the delivery room, holding his newborn babe and wiping away a tear thinking “sure, he represents the miracle of life and untold potential but he’s no whored up car with 3 playstations, 17 tv screens, fridge and inseat fans for my sweaty arse.”