Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I c-cup dead people
NORKS! Ghost Whisperer, E4, 9.00pm
Oh, dear. When even the TV station's promos for a show make it out to be a huge pile of horseshit, you probably shouldn't expect much from it. Much in the same way that they did with Category 6: Day Of Destruction, E4's marketing team have decided to follow the "ho ho, we know it looks awful, but you'll watch it anyway, won't you?" style of advertising with this one. We have to say, our gut reaction seems to be "sure, as soon as we finish gouging our eyes out with rusty kitchen knives and wearing these lovely underpants made from honey and red ants". Because this show really looks like it might reek of Teh Awful.
Apparently, ever since she was a little girl, Jennifer Love Hewitt's Breasts have been able to see and talk to dead people, and they help them to find peace and cross to the other side. Unfortunately, these momentary sightings of the ill-at-rest do not always come at the most convenient time for Jennifer Love Hewitt's Breasts, especially now they are newly married and branching out into the antiques business. In this pilot episode, Jennifer Love Hewitt's Breasts are contacted by the ghost of a solider who says he is lost - possibly on his way to another rubbish television programme airing two hours later on E4, we don't know.
Okay, so we'll stop there before we run the Jennifer Love Hewitt's Breasts joke into the ground (not that that's ever stopped us before), but we're sure you've already made your mind up regarding whether this looks like your type of show or not. If it is, then mazel tov - we bear you no ill will, for the variety of human taste is what makes the world go round. But speaking on a personal level, we'd rather watch the test card for an hour. And the test card is fucking creepy, let's not forget.
Also tonight: Don't forget Modern Toss on Channel 4 at 11.00pm. It was one of the pilots in the Comedy Lab last year, and while we've still not seen the TV show, the comic on which it is based is a thing of pure excellence. We hope there'll be an appearance from Mr Tourette, Master Signwriter, or we'll be a right sour bunch of fucking cunts.
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