Out in the dark the world is still rolling, kids in their cars, cigarette smoking

I love a lazy day. A day designed for leggings, wine and bacon sandwiches. And of course what do all of these things orbit around? That's right...television. Whether it's Jamie's Food Revolution, Geordie Shore, or Misbehaving Mums to be, trashy television is at the center of my lazy days. I'll saunter out of bed around 11, make a half-arsed attempt at getting dressed (this usually involves swapping pajama bottoms for trackie bottoms), make a cup or tea and bacon sandwich (none of this BLT shit on a lazy day, I want squishy bread, bacon and ketcup, with maybe a drizzle of maple syrup, yum yum) and then plonk myself in the middle of the sofa and turn on the tv. I pointlessly flick through the channels, all the time knowing I'm going to end up watching a trashy Channel 4 or BBC3 documentary about drunks in Kings College Hospitals or binge eating pregnant women. 'God you disgusting fat slut, you don't deserve children!!' I shout to the range of young mothers smoking 20 a day, honestly believing this will strengthen their baby's heart, whilst munching self-righteously on last nights leftovers and gulping down the Pinot. 'How DARE you treat you body like that!' (gulp, gulp, munch, munch). Of course, it's ok when I do it, because it's just a one off! (ahem) and at least I know it's bad for me, I tell myself over and over again. As the disgust turns to boredom, I know I need to step up my game. 10pm on a Monday approaches and I cannot wait to chastise the snobby brats on E4's Made in Chelsea. How dare they have such nice clothes and money! I want to hate them, truly I do! But uhoh, what's this? Hugo, how could you do that to Millie? Spencer, why Frunda when you can have Caggie! How dare that pompous arse suggest Binky has cellulite!! And just like that...just like I got sucked in to The Only Way Is Essex and Jersey Shore, it's happened...I care. I know it's bad for me, but I can't help it. Like these teen mothers poisoning their babies, I'm poisoning my mind. What makes it worse is that I know it.
Monday night fizzles away in a mixture of excitement and disgust, like when you slump into McDonalds hungover and order not only a Big Mac but chicken nuggets as well. 'Tonight' I tell myself, 'I will watch the news. I shall LISTEN to and ENJOY the news'. Tuesday night arrives. I've swapped my wine for water, my trackies for trousers, and I'm ready to go. I turn on the telly, and disaster strikes. Two words I cannot ignore, under ANY circumstances. Geordie. Shore. No...it can't be...a Geordie Snooki? How can I possibly resist? Well, that's obvious...I can't. Faster than The Situation can sexually assult a girl, I am into my pj's and a bottle of wine. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.

"Totes man, totes, of course"-Fredrik, Made In Chelsea