As I looked out the window onto my balcony, I had the sneaking suspicion that the garden chairs I sit on are of Persian origin. A quick check of the mold tells me that they are, in fact, made by Homebase and that the supernatural levitation can be explained by the gale force winds that caused me to levitate back into my living room. By the time I pick myself up I’ve decided that the wind is an evil bastard.

Like most people, I own a TV. And this TV (in spite of my crippling financial status) has the benefit of a satellite connection where I am connected to over one hundred channels of television goodness. It’s good for after a day of hard work, or even a day doing no work, to sit back and relax with a good hour or two of mindless twaddle. But the wind! Oh the wind has its own plans to disrupt my mission of wasting my brain away, for two weeks ago the bloody wind blew my satellite off course, causing my television to be nonoperational for too long a time. My brother and I coped though. We honed our videogaming skills, we rewatched every single DVD we could find (apart from the bestiality movie that was a fantastic souvenir of mine from Barcelona*), and basically did everything that didn’t include reading a book.

So, for two weeks we were without TV. Numerous blunders with the TV repair men meant that our agonising wait seemed like forever. But lo and behold, they arrive, they fall off the roof twice (this is no joke, there were real dramatics up there), and they fix our TV! It was brilliant! I could waste the day again with a pizza box perched on my lap and the remote glued to my hand as I sequentially flicked through the channels at my disposal.

But the wind had other plans, that devious bastard.

I’m sitting at home, writing a bit and watching Jonathan Ross in the background, and the wind kicks up a fuss outside. I can hear it press against my windows in that pseudo-threatening roar it has, and my TV flickers. For a moment it becomes garbled, but soon returns to normal. I eye it suspiciously, but soon forget about it as Jonathan begins another witty anecdote. He builds up the joke, pauses for the punch line, and the screen garbles for a second before cutting out completely. The screen turns blue (oddly resembling the classic Windows blue screen of death) and “No signal being received” flashes up. I look on in dismay, but the picture returns to normal with Jonathan smiling and the audience laughing at whatever the great joke was.

I return to the show, waiting to laugh from the build up before to come, and sure enough there is another build up. I listen, waiting intently for another wacky story of his, when right at the punchline, it cuts out again.

It’s been doing this for two days now.

Every time I’m watching a funny program, sit-com, or cartoon, the wind blows a gust and cuts the signal out right at the punchline. And it’s ONLY with funny programs. I can watch two solid hours of the Dog Whisperer or some random documentary, and not a single interruption, but as soon as I flip on Robot Chicken or Scrubs, the signal cuts every minute or so.

I hate Scottish weather.

*I use the term bestiality loosely here. It’s forty minutes long, and twenty five of those minutes consist of three men in gimp masks having sex with a really fat woman before said fat woman molests a really, really unattractive dog. I mean, they could have picked any dog, but an unattractive one? Still, it was a good laugh to browse through.