Every so often something comes along to make you laugh out loud, yet at the same time say ‘amen sister.’ This is one of those times. Thank you M for the heads up about this post. Mind you I am more of a Richard Armitage girl than a Benedict Cumberbatch groupie. No matter what leanings, this is a love letter to British TV fans everywhere.
Dear British Television,
Why are you trying to kill me? Between the anxiety you induce by making me wait forever for a new series of a show and then the heart wrenching you compel when the show finally comes back, I’m convinced you want me dead. Maybe I’m being a little paranoid and this should only be addressed to the shows you send my television all the way across the pond and not all of British Television… and I guess I can exclude the comedies, although some of them have made me laugh so hard I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing for a second, but still. It’s like you know what you’re doing to me and every other fan out there, and I can just picture some of you (ehm ehm Moffat) sitting in a dark room somewhere wringing your hands while you laugh evilly about what you’ll do to us next.
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