Day Time TVMature

It all started when I appeared on This Morning. I was there to be ‘updated.’ Apparently my handlebar moustashio and lovely, long grey locks were not 21st Century and some poofta hairdresser was going to trendy me up and improve my life no end. Bollocks. I thought I had a rather fetching lone wolf look.

Fern and Phil were vile. Bloody do-gooders all of them, smiling away for the stay at home mums while the rest of us slave like office drones. They didn’t stop bloody smiling, insipid toothy grins fired at me like lasers. I smiled back just the once. I smiled as I said I’d kill the person who tried to take away my moustach. Oh how they laughed, they thought I was a riot, but I think they could see in my eyes that there I contained venom.

The hairdresser arrived and crikey he looked like Fara Fawcett with his bangs. A man with bangs, and I’m the weird one. I could feel my trigger finger twitching, I could feel my fangs flexing. I sat before the camera, on my swivel chair being swung around like an umbrella in a shower. I could see them approaching. Camera lenses, hair spray, tiny microphones and feathering scissors. My arteries could barely contain my pumping blood, eyes sharp and focus, the time is now.

I snapped that cocksuckers wrist and wrested the scissors from his limp hand, the sad look of realisation flitting across his eyes too late before the scissors sank into his jugular.

Ah now I am carefree, now I swing along in my swivel chair like a child.

‘Fernie, Fernie, Fernie’

There she is, in the corner, not smiling anymore, though I swear the corners of her mouth are still twitching, they cannot fully relax while the cameras roll. And now bring on my bloodbath, the TV carnage the blood spattered day time TV delight.

I am not a psychopath, I just believe we should be allowed to look they way we like. Now, how do I apply to get on Trinny and Susannah?

The End

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