I broke our TV the other night. I'd not long arrived back home after a really crappy night out with my mam auntie on account of my aunties 49th birthday. It had been a dull evening, my aunties drunkenness getting more irritating by the minute compounded by them playing bingo for half an hour and then a 2o minute walk home in the cold.
After arriving home, eating some mac n cheese and being grateful to be back in the safety and comfort of my own bedroom, I decided to postpone my tiredness for half an hour of DVD watching. It meant I had to go downstairs and grab the ps2 and untangle all the wires to bring it back upstairs, but I really really fancied watching that DVD.
So there I was, poised, bundle of playstation, wires, controller and doovde under my arm, hovering around the back of our very large very old and very very heavy tv, on its stand, attempting to pull out the scart lead from the back. Then it happened, the tv leered forwards, there was nothing I could because the damn thing weighs about twice as much as me. It just tipped off.
Then my mam starting shouting down the stairs asking what was going on. It was pretty funny though, and she wasn't at all pissed off. The next day we tried it but its completely dead. I am a moron.
Sacrificed my bedroom TV by way of replacement. Booo.
So there is my tale of TV destruction. Am I rock n roll?
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2 comments:
putting your mandolin through the screen would have been rock and roll...
true, but I think I can only do that once I've mastered playing it
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