Dear TV programming people,
I am writing to thank you for providing me with some brilliant late-night television. Lonely? You bet I am! So thank you for the endless advertisements of "hot, sexy babes" that are either waiting to take my call, waiting to be downloaded onto my phone, or waiting to meet me for some romance. The only problem is that I wasn't sure if the person that I was talking to, downloading or texting was my ideal partner. But there you were again to lend your sweaty, hairy hand. No sooner had I wondered if "Mister Evil Breakfast" and "Jane" were soulmates that you offered me a service to that would make sure I was doing the right thing, simply by using signs of the Zodiac. And then another service that offered the same results, but by using ancient Chinese text messaging traditions. And then another one using a foolproof mathematical formula. And then one that doesn't use anything but a random number generator. After using all of these "Love Rating" sms lines, I have discovered that Jane just isn't for me. I'm glad I found that out before I spent any money on an actual relationship with her. I did, however, spend over $5,500 on sms fees, but I think assurance is worth that.
Another great thing about being a late-night tv viewer is that you get all sorts of great information about erectile dysfunction. A lot. As in, twice per ad break. And the commercials are always hilarious and well acted, and handle this delicate situation with great discretion. One day, I too hope to play the piano with my wang. Oh how I dream.
And please, don't worry about putting on dull programmes late at night, just make sure whatever you put on is repeated a week later, or even better, the next day. I love Dave Letterman, really, and am incredibly happy that his show is on every night. The same show. Every night. "Wow, George Clooney is on tonight!" "Hey look, George Clooney's back on." "Boy, Clooney and Letterman must be best friends." "Fucking Clooney." "This Top Ten sounds pretty familiar. I hope George Clooney is on tonight."
And the Infomercials... I love them. I really really really really do. I swear. They are ingeniously crafted so that if you stay awake and watch them, you'll suddenly find yourself on the phone whilst reaching for your credit card. If you fall asleep on the couch in front of them, you'll wake up with the phone in one hand, your credit card in the other and a sick feeling in your stomach. The longer you watch Infomercials, the more sense they make, and nothing, NOTHING should stop you from having perfectly sliced carrots, perfectly clear skin, perfectly smooth legs, perfectly sculpted abs and perfectly empty bank account.
Long live Vermin.
But seriously, if you show that fucking ad with Tara Reid on it again, I will stab you with my Rock'n'Chop before you can even marvel at the German engineered handle (made in Taiwan).
Thank you, and goodnight.
Mister Evil Breakfast