I’m watching BBC2’s “The Big Read”. Two foul travesties have occured. Firstly, Jilly Cooper won the “Author’s Weakest Link”. That was bad enough. But she won about seven and a half thousand pounds for charity. And what’s she doing with it? She’s donating it to a society that wants to put up a statue in London, as a memoiral to all the animals that have been killed in wars. That’s just fucking sickening.
Point 1: I’m a damn sight more concerned about all the fucking people that have died in wars than their bastard cats.
Point 2: It’s not fucking helping anyone. Charityable donations should be making life better for people with a pulse. If you can’t manage the people part then fuck, I’ll settle anything with a pulse. A statue to dead things, and worse, dead fucking pets is not a charitable act, it’s a memorial. Gah!
And the second travesty? It turns out that I have to dump Fin, because Martine McCutcheon’s favourite book is Perfume by Patrick Suskind, and there’s no way I can date someone who shares their favourite book with Tiffany out of Eastenders. Sorry.