WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO OWN A JET SKI?
Sometimes in an idle moment I find myself getting sucked into those television channels that exist in between real channels. The ones that dig through the trenches of television history looking for expired or dirt cheap rerun rights to fill the dark hours between 1am and 6am. On a night when I can’t sleep and have exhausted the BBC’s almost infinite supply of current affairs programs I sometimes find myself dipping into such a channel. They’re the grouting that hold late night schedules together, formed of a curious mixture of pure chalky nostalgia, delivered in pale colours and wonky aspect ratios.
On a quiet night you may find yourself tempted to linger on such a channel. Absolutely do not do this.