Grand Designs. A nice Victorian terrace row. Two... people erect a monstrous glass, steel, plastic pile of boxes. A “house” that dominates & insults & screams at everything around it, “I hate you, I hate history, I hate beauty, I hate myself, I hate.”
The host moons over their vandalism & asks questions about ideas in the “design” as if their behaviour wasn’t the stuff of violence, aggression, pathetic posture, madness indulged & rewarded. It’s revolting. The building. The show.
The poor neighbours. Oh, the poor neighbours.
The poor neighbours. Oh, the poor neighbours.
Oh, the house is a talking point! It’s like we’ve walked down the street naked!
No. It’s like you’ve reverted to toddler years, defecating noisily in the most awkward place & inviting applause for it.
And getting it.
No. It’s like you’ve reverted to toddler years, defecating noisily in the most awkward place & inviting applause for it.
And getting it.
On reflection & rereading the benefit of time shows me in retrospect that I held back on this.
On tonight’s episode a similar cowpat is being built on the rural Thames.
The neighbours were interviewed & said, “they’ve ignored what’s in keeping with their surroundings, they’ve ignored everyone, they’re so selfish. I hope it floods.”
I confess I cheered.
The neighbours were interviewed & said, “they’ve ignored what’s in keeping with their surroundings, they’ve ignored everyone, they’re so selfish. I hope it floods.”
I confess I cheered.
These people have splinters of hatred in their souls. 
In the weakest possible defence of it - it’s not as bad as the one on the Victorian street; not by a long shot.
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