I don’t normally read Daily Mail burrit were all thee ‘ad left ont rack.
It were when I were linin’ budgies cage wi’ it that this article caught me eye.
It seems the bloke who invented the television remote control had dade.
Ay were ninety four year ode. I ‘ave t’say his death caused a bit o’ confusion.
Well, they didna know whether to bury ‘im or stuff ‘im down t’ back o’ sofa.
I were a bit purout about ‘im ‘avin’ “invented” the remote control.
We ‘ad a remote in 1961. I used to sit on sofa an’ change channels wi’a snooker cue.
I have to say it weren’t very efficient. Y’see ‘r Harold played pool on Tuesdizz an’ Thozdees so it only wocked about 70 per cent o’ time. Still, wi’ didna waste money on batt’ries.
Actually, ‘ave just bin aht and bought a new tele, one o’ them wi’a 52” screen.
I didna want to but time an’ an electrical short meant it were necessary.
I say necessary... Its non’ a necessity for me. I ‘ardly watch it and when I do it’s documentaries an’ ‘istory.
No, it’s really for wife. She likes her tele and if it keeps ‘er ‘appy I’m ‘appy.
As I said I dint want to gerra another tele but, wick before last, way sat watchin’ Towerin’ Inferno, y’know, that film wi’ Steve McQueen an’ Paul Newman.
Any’ow the tower’s just got infernoin’ when smoke starts comin’ art o’ back o’ television.
I says to wife “By ‘eck this is realistic.”
At this point flames bost up’ards and scorched curtains.
I says to wife “I’m all for realism burra think that’s gooin’ a bit far.”
I dint spot that this new tele were 3D. At fost I wondered what glasses were for.
I thought thid ‘appen done a deal wi’ Spec Savers. I can’t say I am fligged wi’ it, 3D that is.
It’s bad enough watchin’ Wayne Rooney weeout ‘aving ‘is face comin’ art o’ screen at you. Fost time that ‘appened I spilt ‘ot tea in me lap.
Wayne Rooney want only one wi’ a groin injury that wickend.
I were watchin’ other day. It were dinner time an’ I were enjoyin’ a san’wich that comprised o’ ketchup an’ sugar. Ad just sin an episode o’ Crap In The Attic and were waitin’ for Gok Wan You Look Good Naked t’start when this advert comes on for wash powder.
You musta sin it. Thi show you ‘ow this particular wash powder’ll get blood out o’ your T shirt. It were rate graphic. I thought this is a pretty violent image.
As I chewed on mi san’wich I couldna help but think that if yad blood all ovver y’T shirt, int laundry least of y’problems. Surely y’priority should be gerrin’ rid o’ body.