Well if I'd know there was retro computers involved...finally Lost claims young Jimmny

I know it’s not the networks’ fault for wanting to want to make lots of money by stringing the punters along like deranged teenagers with their lads in their hands saying ‘what no more?’, but I cannot handle the lap-dancer predisposition of American television series. It's like Six Feet Under, as soon as I saw this brassy tart of a series I thought great, its going to be a going to be strung out for about ten series, as (I have just been discussing this with a Sandler Jimmy).

So because of my fear/attraction for/to glamorous American types I was weary of Lost as soon as I saw the first promos (I knew, because it was glossy and the because Terry O'Quinn was in it) it was going to last more than one series so I didn’t give a fuck if there was a polar bear, who rode who, if there was a September 11 subtext, if there some sort of mystical plot, if they were alive or dead I literally couldn’t give flying fuck. Because I’m an atheist, when there was the ‘oh my god they’re really in purgatory’ rumblings I couldn’t care, but then there was the hatch! once I saw trailers of the hatch I went fuck yeah! Give me some that old style sciencey fictiony style shite I’m there.

So this Sunday, I'm lying in bed still recovering from the party on Friday—I knew it was a debauched party when I even went to see the Da Vinci Code* on Saturday just to get out of the house, we thrashed the place so much—and watched some Lost on the Channel 4 ‘on demand’ system, if by on demand you mean watching grainy online TV for a limited period for free and for 99p a pop...

I watched the first episode of the second series and was immediately hooked, why? Because it involved a guy down a bunker who had to put the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 23, 42 every 108 minutes into a retro computer while Mama Cass's Make Your Own Kind of Music is playing. It was total Twilight Zone jazz, they could have just started the whole series with that instead of a $10 million pilot and I would have been hooked. Throw it a Cronenbergian 1970s mysterious scientific-military complex and I am practically jissing myself. Finally, I know what everyone's on about, just before that World Cup shite where I will proceed not to care about what everyone talking about, is there going to robots with big swords playing football? is it going to played by hot well-built women in tropical climes? no? oh well, shut the fuck up then it is truly the mostly boring game in the world...

*Actually I went to see Confetti but there were so many shitmunchers thronging around to see the Da Vinci Code when I left , I felt, fuck it! I’m hungover, I can’t be arsed to going back to the house and it’s not like the Da Vinci Code is going to flop if I sneak in, it’s a victimless crime, the minimum-wage ushers don’t care, there’s free seats there…fuck, if I’d paid in I’d feel ripped off, like the last time I snuck into a film…The Village, gawd, it’d nearly put you off sneaking into the movies.