Modern life is full of screaming atrocities that would unsettle anyone. Take, for example, Joe Pasquale's The Price is Right, Lembit Opik and Gerald Kaufman double dating the Cheeky Girls (Romania's finest proponents of bum touching), or the gangs of hooded government sponsored anal trauma inspectors who nightly trawl the streets of Britain's cities. But even in this horrific world, there can be no more alarming experience than acting as a receptacle for Owen Harper's man sex wee.
Diane has the roughest of rides. The majority of them taking place in Owen's pit.Poor Miss Diane, falling through a rift in time and space one day, then having Harper's over used knob rammed up her for most of the next.
She, out of the three, has the roughest of rides. The majority of them taking place in Owen's pit. Even a trip to ASDA, with their arse slapping bargain ethos, does little to settle her nerves especially when she presents a badly disguised pack of Embassy ciggies and asks, What does this mean?
Val Singleton was massaging through her clenched fists.She's not, of course, referring to the stark warning on the packet, but wondering why someone disguised the packaging so badly it looks like that time the Blue Peter mob were constructing a fairy tale theatre and used the tubes that KY Jelly's Bear Strength product comes in and made such a hash covering up the brand name that it actually resulted in 38 fatalities amongst the watching public when they realised what it was that Val Singleton was massaging through her clenched fists.
John has it bad with the realisation that his son is actually John Scott Martin.Owen's strange choice of advances women have made over the last 50 years should have started ringing bells with Diane (as opposed to bell ends) but it only appeared to make this force of lust even more appealing to her. You can just imagine him playing Big Money on Family Fortunes, and him doing abysmally badly when asked by Les Dennis, We asked 100 people to name the 5 greatest advances women have made in the last 50 years. I dread to think what sort of things he might place in a time capsule to represent life in the year 2006 for people in the future.
Probably a double Polaroid of his cock, the big rack edition of Nuts magazine (pages 3 thru 18 having been rendered unreadable after being stuck together because of moisture in the capsule [at least, according to boffins, that's what they hope caused it]) and a bumper pack of extra thick Marmite flavoured condoms.
Then there's and has spent his adult life shunting a trolley around a television studio. It was probably just his luck that he'd get stuck with the one with a mind of its own.
Still, it allowed him some protection when eating his egg, at least when there was a casing there he didn't drip egg down his shirt.
The hostel itself seems to be from the bleak end of the 1970's.
Emma-Louise has the least interesting time of the three of them, having been picked last to be on Team Gwen.Holed up in the Torchwood licenced doss house with Alesha and Jade, the mind shudders at what sort of creatures these two actually are beneath the flimsy human facade that's on display. They too must have fallen through the rift, probably pissed up right out of their brains too. The hostel itself seems to be from the bleak end of the 1970's with the sort of wall paper and furniture that's a must for any sneeringly retro Independent readers out there who have an unhealthy interest in G Plan.
Perhaps its agent suggested it for this part in order to get a longer stint, as a guest house, on the next series of Life on Mars?
Rather than attempt to reintegrate these three temporal refugees back into society they could have had a bit of sport at their expense. Feeding them misinformation about every single aspect of British life in the 21st century then pushing them out into the community and open a book on how long it would take them to go postal in a very traditional way.
If you can't abuse your position for your own entertainment then you might as well date a 24 year old Transylvanian pop star.
The Torchwood Bumper Book of Date Rape Techniques has this to say about Out of Time: Club 18-30 Holidays are attempting to licence rift travel from Torchwood because of the heightened sexual appetite caused by airborne travel through it. And as Torchwood have so far done cock all with alien technology they see this as the only way of retaining their core government funding.
You'll require a hyper-collider of circumference not less than 60 miles.The crux of the Uncertainty Principal is this: taking a pair of observables of a single particle, increasing the accuracy in measurement of one increases the uncertainty in the measurement of the other.
This is usually applied to the position and momentum of a particle.
Now. Scale that up and apply it to a television series (to do this you'll require a hyper-collider of circumference not less than 60 miles - you might need to ask an adult to help you with this).
Here's one I prepared earlier. Let's call it Torchwood. The Torchwood is a complex series of concepts that when viewed from distance appears to be positioned somewhere towards the adult-themed drama series end of the spectrum (exhibiting the so-called pink-shift effect).
And yet pinning its genre down to a specific measurement merely renders all other observations redundant. Similarly, measurements of character interactions merely confuses the matter further as you are then unable to determine what sort of entity it is.
Smash the glass on the emergency Blake's 7 wall cabinet.For all the good it'll do you you might as well just introduce a random factor and just go with that as a good enough guess as to what the hell all this is about. Star Trek circumvented this effect by utilizing Heisenberg Compensators (in addition to a well structured situation in which to tell coherent stories - but that's not for here). Created by Gene Eugene Roddenberry, the Compensators permitted the television series to evolve free of complicated and inconvenient theoretical physics and allowed for the free flow of technobabble.
Of course, placing factors such as Eugene and Heisenberg in close proximity to the Torchwood television series will only result in one of two outcomes, 1) an episode called Jack's Brain or 2) a weak rip off of an out of time episode where culture shock ensues for a group of people from a different time. Should either of these be detected then please smash the glass on the emergency Blake's 7 Wall Cabinet with the hammer provided. Otherwise the entire fabric of the Universe will be consumed by Happy Eater matter.
Put succinctly, it's your fault that it's shite.
None of this should be confused by the observer effect - which states that by merely observing something you change its nature. Should the Torchwood entity be viewed by precisely no-one, instead of millions of suckers, then we could safely suggest that it was a constantly ground breaking, bang up televisual feast of such eye-popping quality that you'd never understand how good it was if you saw it.
But we can't. Because the effect that millions of viewers has on the show has rendered its nature completely different to that intended.
Put succinctly, it's your fault - yes, you - that it's shite.
Apart from Random Shoes. Which was actually quite good.
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