1) The news that science does not vindicate the assumption of moral superiority by middle-class wendys who have nothing better to do with their time than wash nappies.
The last time I felt a similar sense of a just Creator with an excellent sense of humour was when I heard that the guy who invented jogging dropped dead of a heart-attack before his three score years and ten were up.
2) The news that some pile of excrement called "I'm a Celebrity Island, Please Tempt Me" or something has proved to be a ratings failure.
I'm not very well-acquainted with "reality TV". I shouldn't pretend the reason for this is because I'm too busy with more cultural pursuits. My telly gets amazingly crap reception: channel 5 is something I've only read about and the availability of the other four depends very much on the weather.
Anyway, one of the few times I've seen it was when some piece of public-school detritus called "Nasty Nick" was foiled in his dastardly scheme to achieve something, the precise details of which are completely lost to my long-term memory, I'm glad to say.
The subsequent confrontation with the other Big Brother house guest people was so tedious, I went off and rearranged my sock drawer. Could not believe the tabloids the next day; this was the highlight of the series, it turns out.
These trendy, post-modern cultural critics who seriously want us to believe that this sort of brainless cack is indicative of a democratic cultural sensibility, and anyone who disagrees with this pap are terrible elitist snobs, really could do with being killed.
It's low-risk, low-rent programme-making motivated by the concerns of advertising companies and the God of Bill Hicks will take his vengeance, you mark my words.