I have been looking forward to this day for a long time.
Ten years in fact.
You see, Herself developed a fondness for the Late Late Show back in the glory days when it was inventing sex and generally causing outrage.
Then The Plank took over, but for some reason her fascination didn’t dwindle that much. Now she hates The Plank almost as much as I do, but every Friday night she has this strange compulsion to switch over ‘just to see what’s on’. When she does switch over it is nearly always The Plank making a complete arse of himself with some incredibly boring twat, but that doesn’t stop her doing it.
There have been many Friday evenings where the basball bat met the frying pan in a struggle for the remote control, and I suppose those fun days are over now.
Today, The Plank walks.
It is truly a momentous occasion for Irish Television, and for myself, as I will finally be able to come off my Friday doses of Prozac and Valium.
I will possibly even watch the last show.
I know it is going to have an astronomically high cringe factor, and doubtless lots of people are going to sing Plank’s praises. However I know that they are all just saying that for the cameras, and that underneath, they are as glad to see the back of him as I am.
We have yet to see what kind of fist young Twiglet Tubridy will make of it. He too will probably make a hames of the whole thing. Unfortunately, I shall miss his baptism as I shall be out of the country in September.
I shall miss The Plank.
His very presence raised the standards of all other programmes.