With the revolution of alternative comedy, you'd think that this sordid collection of a mainstream master-race would be extinct, by now. Afterall, we are in the 21st century now. Mankind should've evolved enough, by now, not to celebrate Butterflies, with a documentary on the BBC, written by one of the dickheads duped by comedy hero, Chris Morris. But, we'll never learn, will we! Unless these corperate slimeballs are accidently get caught up in a nasty car accident, all of us bored, imaginative people are going to have our souls destroyed by all the Fred Barrons of the world. When The Royle Family came along, crushing the middle class, rose tinted image of family life, I kind of had a premenition that this would be the future for family sitcoms. God! I'm stupid. I thought once 2.4 Children and The Upper Hand were burning in creative hell. Sadly, someone had the idea of American sitcoms were the best in the world.

I find it hard not to mention, but this is what spurred this rant in the first place. A couple of years ago satin and mediocre spawned a love child. Lets do a sitcom, written by some idiotic trendies, about a trendy, middle class family. Now if My Family, doesn't make you thrash around, violently vommiting blood, Oh mercy! My illness got worse, when the lovely, hilarious, wacky "genius", won best newcomer at the British Comedy Awards. Luckily, his dignity was chainsawed by Saint Johny Vegas. The toffee-nosed void, who looks no stranger to a fox hunt, tried to be funny by saying, and I cringe: "Thanks for the BBC, for paying me", after Vegas said to the toff "You'll never be me!". After that, I felt better.

Things start to become clear: Zoe Wannamaker should just go back to voice-over work, there should be more Early Doors and less Keeping up Appearences, imaginative comedians and writers should mark the end of this joyful occasion of ITV giving up on comedy production, by burning Nigel Lythgoe and maybe as one human race, we can dream and explore the universe, without comedy charachters who are rich!