Fuck TV some more

I’m very fond of Eddie Izzard because my sense of humour was shaped by the gut-busting, life-changing-and-affirming experience of reading 1066 and All That after getting into the academic history milieu. Sadly, Sexie was rubbish even after making the gorgonzola bechemel for the tortellini with reefer butter and smoking many pipefuls. But Circle was nice. Lovely in fact. Almost as good as Dress to Kill. I think my poor Figaro is having a moment – which he keeps inside, probably in the knowledge of how militant I can get – about life sans television. He had some sort of cable at the residential school he was teaching at in England and now has suddenly nothing. Except a girlf who thinks television is a massive government conspiracy to keep us all stupid, and a DVD player.

So we watch two Eddie Izzard specials in four days just so he gets to see the moving pictures. I was dissappointed by Sexie. Oh well. I still want to see My Super Ex-Girlfriend, mostly on the strength of him being in it and its writers working on the Simpsons.

Not much else to say this morning. We went garage-saling on Sunday and I got The Tale of the Genji, which I’ve wanted to read forever, but also The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks, which I’ve wanted to re-read forever, so it may be awhile yet. Boys make reading harder – I still have 30 pages left of Darrin McMahon’s Happiness, he’s up to Freud and I think he’s about to write something radical about something.