Damned if you do, damned it you don't, damned if you're Ricky Gervais

I could write a review on the red carpet fashions at yesterday's 69th Annual Golden Globes. Believe me, I have plenty of opinions to offer. But it all just seems like too much effort. And copyright infringement. And money and I don't have any money.

What I do have is the worst case of indigestion known to humanity. Seriously, it feels like a little man has abseiled down the front of my chest and is zapping it with a miniature taser gun every five seconds. I have tried every home-remedy Google has to offer. Heat, peppermint tea, apples, a strange abdomen exercise which is supposed to stimulate the bowel. Nothing has yet induced the all-encompassing burp (Lord, please let it be a burp...) which is festering in my stomach. .

So until that moment, I am going to remain a right, fat, grump.

Back to the Golden Globes...

You could read the review I'm not going to write or you could just go visit the Go Fug Yourself girls and read what they had to say instead. Infinitely more interesting, humorous and satirical. And that's coming from me.

If you don't know who Heather and Jessica of Go Fug Yourself are, you are forgiven for not being a long-term, dedicated reader of TKC (The KH Chronicles. I'm seeing if it will catch on). I gave them a shout-out way back in 2009. You can read it here. Or you can read about them there. Either way, it's high time you were introduced. They are ingenious. Opinionated, satirical, sarcastic, glorious genius. That's their scientific term.

Back to the Golden Globes...

All in all, I was a little disappointed, especially by Ricky G. I was pulling for some truly, disasterous, "Can't look away from the car crash" type TV. Instead, we were dished up a reined-in version of his usually brilliant word vormit. The Kardashian/Middleton reference was satisfactory. Okay, it was a little clever. But the rest was a bit 'blah'. I was refused the perverse delight I get in seeing celebrities squirm and instead, we got Ricky Gervais playing it safe in the shallow end with his Golden Globe floaties.

Where was the indecency? Where was the cringe-worthy? Where was the just, plain wrong?

Erin Wasson must have been wearing it. Or not wearing it.

Who knows? Maybe this means the lovely Erin Wasson will be invited to host next year's Golden Globes.

Tough gig, Ricky G.


KH.