My Emmerdale

July 14th 2006

I settled down  to watch a few more episodes of The Sopranos at about ten to seven.

“And what do you think your doing?” said the wife.

“Watching The Sopranos.”

“And what about my Emmerdale? And my Coronation Street? And my East Enders?” (My wife has many more television programs which she prefixes’s with the word ‘My’. Once she’s taken them to her bosom like this and made them hers they are then Sacrosanct and must be watched come what may. She once left the delayed Funeral of her favourite uncle wile they were carrying him up the aisle in a coffin because she didn’t want to miss Home and Away. A few more of her ‘My’ programs are my Footballer’s Wives, my Richard and Judy and my My Family. If it ever gets to my Ant and Dec I’m leaving her).

There’s a telly in the bedroom,” I said, “You can watch My Emmerdale and My Coronation Street and My East Enders on that.”

“You can watch The Supremos in the bedroom.”

“The DVD player is down here.”

“Well take it upstairs.”

“Look Vera love, I can do without this, I’ve had a difficult couple of days, I had to shoot a dog.”

“You enjoyed that.”

“It would be much, much easier if you got yourself upstairs to watch the telly.”

“Easier for you, you mean. Anyway I’ve got use to watching Corrie on a Plasma screen now, it’s a lot more realistic on a Plasma screen.”

“Coronation Street would be more realistic if The Hobbit took over the Rover’s Return and Conan the Barbarian walked in and fucked Shelley on the bar top while Emily and Rita formed a queue.”


I finally got down to watching The Sopranos after My Bad Girls.