24: the greatest worst TV show debate continues

To: Keith
From: Nick
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: 24

Keith

I assume you didn't watch 24. I loved it. Every minute of it.

Nick

•••

To: Nick
From: Keith
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: 24

Nick

Didn't see it. Stopped watching it last year and haven't picked it up again. All I know is that Jack's changed his name and cut his hair and, based on his new and improved size, seems to have wolfed down an entire cow.

Snore. With a side order of zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Keith

•••

To: Keith
From: Nick
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: Re: 24

Keith

No no no, no no no. I understand your reluctance, but it’s a good haircut and a great new name and President Palmer was killed and Michelle was killed and Tony's in a coma (or maybe that's his acting style – ITHHHANNKKKYAAA). And Nixon is still in it and he's now got a nutty wife and his Aide is behind a huge conspiracy and Jack committed 40 (at least) acts that are not only counter to the Geneva Convention but also counter to any law ever.

And he's been framed for Palmer's murder and he wears Aviator shades throughout. And he kidnapped Kurt Cobain's little brother in a helicopter. And he emoted a little and his shades proved an extremely effective disguise for getting him into a building where 400 FBI agenst were hunting for him. Incredible.

Oh and Edgar, Chloe and some sinister new IT bod are involved in a love triangle...of fat and ugly and sinister proportions.

Oh you are missing greatness, my friend.

Nick

•••

To: Nick
From: Keith
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: 24

Nick

Unless it turns out that CTU is actually a secret hidden anti-terrorist "prison" hidden away in the wilds of Eastern Europe and that Jack is running the place with his own particular brand of vigilante justice (including but not limited to Mexican Stand-Offs and Swiss Army Knife amputations), I can't see the point when I've got Lost keeping me busy.

And America's Next Top Model gives me all the intrigue and convoluted plotlines I need.

Keith

•••

To: Keith
From: Nick
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: 24

Keith

Or if a gang of chavs came in and rearranged the letters on the CTU building and added an N and an S and then sat pointing at the building screaming really foul abuse until Jack arrived and garrotted them all. And then Jack breathed on the front window and drew a knob in the steamed up glass before running away giggling.

We could mix Lost, 24 and America's Next Top Model and have the greatest show in the world: "America's lost 24 top models”, a 24-part show where Jack from Lost and Jack from 24 have 24 hours to hunt down 24 missing top models in a weird island/metaphor setting a la Prisoner.

As they track down each model – Jack from 24 has to torture each one to find out where the next one is and then Jack from Lost has to use his doctoring skills to make her all well so Sawyer from Lost and Tony from 24 can get to go a date with her and then she has to choose who she wants to make the sweet sweet love with, while being shot at by Michelle Rodriguez (who may or may not be on the show, and could just be passing by). And the show would be presented by Lionel Blair and Louis Farrakhan.

Nick

•••

To: Nick
From: Keith
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: 24

Nick

OK, but only if the house orchestra is fronted by Hurley.

Keith

"He didn't know anything about me. Nothing. He didn't know who I was or anything."

To: Keith
From: Nick
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Talentless non-actress falls for man with misspelt nickname at the “World Cup of Breakin'” shocker!

Keith

According to CNN and, well, pretty much everybody, actress "Mena Suvari has found love with a breakdancer, following her split from cinematographer husband Robert Brinkmann in May. The American Beauty star, 26, and Mike 'Murda' Carrasco, 23, have been dating for "almost six months" after meeting at a breakdancing event. Suvari tells People magazine, '(We met) at an event, at Battle of the Year. He didn't know anything about me. Nothing. He didn't know who I was or anything.' Carrasco, who performs with Las Vegas, Nevada-based troupe Knucklehead Zoo, explains the event is 'like the World Cup of breakdancing, and the USA qualifications were in Los Angeles, and we won that.'"

Everything about this story is wrong - "this is like the World Cup for Breakdancing." So, America have qualified for the World Cup of Breakdancing - who else entered - The Spanish, The Dutch, The Togans?

As I said, just weird.

Nick

•••

To: Nick
From: Keith
Sent: 13 February 2006
SUBJECT: Re: Talentless non-actress falls for man with misspelt nickname at the “World Cup of Breakin'” shocker!

Nick

That's genius: "He didn't know anything about me. Nothing. He didn't know who I was or anything."

Imagine the scene: Mena Suvari (not to be confused with Mira Sorvino or Nana Mouskouri ) walks away from the arena (cardboard? Where the hell do they have these things?), all hot and sweaty from a solid eight minute freestyle, including two headspins and a fierce body pop sequence that left her competitor Angelo "PoodingPap" Terwilliger flat on his back. As she walks, she encounters a young Mike "Murda" Carrasco.

Murdoo: That was dope. You fierce. Phat n stuff. N ting.

Mena: Do you know who I am? Do you? Do you f**king know who I f**king am?

Murdoch: Yo yo yo, easy, ting, you soft and stuff and fierce, knowhatI'msayin' my bizzle? And that.

Mena: What? What the hell are you saying to me? Do you know who I am? DO YOU?!?!

Muldoono: Nah, but like I'm just saying that you wickid and stuff and ting.

Mena pauses for a moment, her deep brown eyes searching Mulduchachy's own.

Mena: I love you.

Mackaroo: Yo, that's dope, the shizzle, knowwhatI'msayin?

Mena: Yes, Moondog, I do know what you are saying. And you don't even know who I am, do you? Do you? You don't right? Because that could blow the whole f**king deal.

Mackerel: Listen bizz-dizzle, not even sure who, what where, how, knowwhatI'msayin? And ting?

And so on. Love blooms in the most unexpected of places my friend.

Keith

Sketch: The Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse

Sketch #539: Recruiting the fifth horseman

INT: Bleak-looking office

Two caped and hooded figures sit at a desk. They have name plates in front of them, which read Death and Famine. Two spaces are empty, their name plates reading War and Pestilence.

A third caped and hooded figure stands in the background, struggling with a photocopier. From time to time, he smashes it very aggressively with his fist, before shuffling through a sloppy handful of paper.

A horse whineying is heard outside.

Death: War, have you finished copying those CVs? You've been at that photocopier for two hours now.

War (smashing the machine again): I can't... it’s just not – wait I think that’s got it... nope, I can’t get it to work.

Death: Honestly, what are you good for?

Famine clicks his bony fingers together.

Famine (singing): Absolutely nothing, say it again.

War and Death (together) : Shut Up.

Horse whineys ouside.

Death: And you shut up too, you bloody horse. (points at War ) How do expect us to recruit quality staff if your pissing mare is neighing all day?

War (returns to desk and sits ): Sorry. And we’re just going to have to share.

War stacks the papers in front of him and Death and Famine shuffle their seats a bit closer to see them.

Famine: What time's lunch?

Death: That's all you think about! Food food food.

Famine: Sorry.

Death: And where the bloody hell is Pestilence?

War: He called in sick.

Death: Oh, just great – how do we recruit quality staff if one of us is always throwing sickies.

War: He didn't sound well on the phone. Very throaty.

Death: Oh for Christ sake, Famine, call the first interviewee.

Famine presses a little box on his desk and speaks into it.

Famine: Mrs Hydra, can you send the candidate in?

The speaker emits a deathly howl.

Famine: Thank you.

Into the office walks, a young nervous looking hoodie. Death points a bony finger in his direction and points to the chair. The candidate sits down.

Death: (in an ominous, echoing voice, with attendant thunder and lightning): Name?

Candidate: Steve Jenkins

Famine: Hello, Steve.

War: Hello Steve

Horse whineys outside.

Death: Shut up. So... (leans over to see CV, obviously irritated) Mr Jenkins. Why do you want to be the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.

Candidate: I really like working with people and I think I'd be perfect for the job, because I’m a real go-getter and –

War: What's your speciality?

Candidate: Making people stub their toes.

War and Famine wince and exchange nods of sympathetic agreement. Death looks non-plussed.

Death: Hmm. Mr Jenkins. Do you really think stubbing toes is, how can I put this – scary enough?

Candidate: Can be.

Death: You think people are really going to quake at the thought of the rumbling hooves of War, Famine, Pestilence, Death and Stubbing Your Toe.

Candidate: Er....

War: Oh come on, Death, give him a chance. He’s got his own hood, so that’s a money-saver right there. How about War, Famine, Pestilence, Death – and Steve?

Famine (giggling) : On bass.

War and Famine raise their hands in classic devil’s horns of rock poses.

Death: Thank you Mr Jenkins, but I’m afraid we’re looking for something a bit more... epic, shall we say, than toe stubbing.

Jenkins exits.

Death:(into speaker): Mrs Hydra, send in next interviewee.

The intercom speaker howls. Horse whineys outside. Death grabs the pile of papers from War, stands and walks towards the photocopier. He stubs his toe on the desk as he goes.

Death (hopping around the room wincing and grabbing his toe): I hate this job.

Famine: Is it lunchtime yet?

Fade out