25.7.13 Save Us From Nina - Royal Birth

What a terrible week for journalism and the media.  As if we needed proof that there are morons everywhere, both in decision making at management level and at broadcasting level, this week's royal birth gave fodder to the asses who then served up a mind-numbing dollop of shit, spread over many days.  Each day contained hours that seemed longer than hours, and minutes that dragged on painfully.  Coverage of the birth of Prince George was horrendous.

I groaned at the TV as for the fifth time, the producers of the news on ITV decided it was essential to get the input [quite how to describe the complete bollocks escapes me] of one Nina Nannar.  She chomped at the screen with wild enthusiasm, a state that marked her out as rather manic in comparison to everyone around her.  Her breathless rant with gnashing teeth and crazy eyes was a weird thing to behold.  "Save us from Nina," I shouted at the screen and lost another million brain cells as they all gave up in unison at having to cope with shite.

Aside from learning that outside Buckingham Palace the crowds were seven or eight deep [close inspection showed a couple of hundred people milling about and they were only this deep/shallow because they all veered to one side of the fountain] we were "treated" to updates from Bucklebury.  I say "treated" although after the woman who resembled Sarah Jessica Parker's stablemate wasted my time with shite, I needed treatment!  No, luv, there was fuck all happening in Bucklebury and there was NOT a mad party going on.  A few locals at a pub is simply irrelevant, and if the barman sold a few bottles of champagne, it was because a few well-heeled people wanted to be able to say they drank a toast there.  This is not news, let alone an accurate report on things - as if one were even needed.  Elsewhere we were served up with the views of tourists collared by the media, anxious to kill time and fill space.

I like William and Kate, to the extent that I can because I don't know them, but I fear the media bollocks will mean many react negatively.  I did not buy a newspaper yesterday, as I've no doubt there would have been at least 28 pages of baby stuff.  I feel I need a week to recover from Nauseating Nina, Wittering Witchell and the cringeworthy chuckling of Alastair Stewart, whose smug grin came across even when we could hear only his voice.  Julie Etchingham was no better, and interviews with a midwife and Eve Pollard almost caused me to suffer a stroke, they were so horrendous.  Luckily Mrs MWSC has seen the adverts and the 'FACT' advice on dealing with strokes, so I knew that even if ITV had its way and half killed me with this shit, I'd stand a good chance of staying alive.

By the way, in case you were encased in concrete and did not see them, here's a chance to relive the moment:

Instructions: stare at this photo for an hour without interruption, then close your eyes for five seconds. Open them quickly and you will see a haunting image of Nina.

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