The Hell of it All by Charlie Brooker

The Hell of it All by Charlie Brooker

Author:Charlie Brooker [Brooker, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780571255528
Publisher: Faber and Faber Ltd
Published: 2010-05-31T14:00:00+00:00


And for the consumer, it's just one more layer of distracting crud - the bane of the 21st century. Distracting crud comes in countless forms - from the onscreen clutter of 24-hour news stations to the winking, blinking ads on every other web page. These days, each separate square inch of everything is simultaneously vying for your attention, and the overall effect is to leave you feeling bewildered, distanced, feverish and slightly insane. Or maybe that's just me, today.

Actually, it's definitely just me. Like I say, I'm ill, my brain's not working. Which is why opening this piece with a slew of hot search terms probably wasn't a brilliant wheeze.

Perhaps if I close with a selection of the LEAST searched-for terms ever, I can redress the balance. Worth a shot. Um ...

JOHN SELWYN GUMMER ... PATRICK KIELTY NUDE ... UNDERWHELMING KNITTING PATTERNS ... FULLY CLOTHED BABES.

There. That should do it.

On tonsillitis [28 July 2008]

Regular followers of my dismal 'existence' may recall last week that I broke off in the middle of a thrilling piece about internet search terms to complain I had some sort of fever and boo-hoo-hoo poor me. Turns out I had tonsillitis. Now, if you're anything like I was a fortnight ago, the mention of tonsillitis right there won't do anything for you. I mean, what is it anyway? A kiddywink illness? Bit of a sore throat? Pah. That's how people who've never had tonsillitis tend to think about it. I certainly did. Whereas now, I can confidently report that it's worse - far worse - than international terrorism and child abuse combined.

Why didn't I know this before? Either there's some sort of weird conspiracy going on that involves the general public collectively underplaying its horrors, or I just didn't listen whenever someone recounted what happened when they had it. I suspect the latter. I suspect each time they opened their mouth I thought: 'Boo-hoo, bit of a sore throat, yeah?' in a loop, trying to disguise my contempt as I stared at their stupid babbling face, waiting for my turn to speak. And I think everyone's done this. No one's listened to the sufferers, ever. Not even their own doctors. And that's why we all, as a nation, have failed to acknowledge how nasty tonsillitis actually is. Yup. I blame society. Now, it's possible we never 'got' tonsillitis because the survivors' descriptions weren't lurid enough. Let's redress the balance.

It starts with an achy throat. One day I went 'ahh' in the mirror, and glimpsed some kind of mouth ulcer at the back of my throat. Urgh, I thought, reaching for the antiseptic mouthwash. That should take care of it.

A week later, a heavy flu-like sensation suddenly descended; a sultry cloud locking itself into position over the sun. I've got a cold, guessed my idiot brain. I lay on my sofa, sweating and listlessly channel-surfing, until I realised I couldn't even follow the plot of Celebrity MasterChef. I crawled into bed at 9 p.m. Next morning I had to write last Monday's column, but the sweats and shivers were so bad I couldn't type properly.



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