A sleek web-slacker with a chef's background. One finger on the pulse in every pie. I know know that life before this was preposterous. I know that life since is still to be decided...
Celebrity's tweets are put into the hands (and dramatic hearts) of a trio of fine thesbians (no thesbian jokes about Lindsay Lohan, now. Don't be cheap.)
Oh, wait... That wasn't so great. How did Chris Evans get away with that shit for so long? Oh, the 90s - so awful in hindsight. At least the 80s had the decency to flat up dreadful to your face...
And yet, for all the doubts and previous celluloid horrors committed in Alan Moore's name (From Hell, League of Extraodinary Gentlemen, V for Vendetta - every one a Rorschach blot on Hollywood's copy book), this film actually looks pretty goddamn promising.
But surely nothing Zack Snyder can deliver will be a patch on this:
Alright, so someone has decided that we, the people of London, don't talk to each other enough. That's right: we're a bunch of miserable, insular sods, so dread-afeared of human contact that we'd rather read the crappy free pamphlets that pass as newspapers than actually meet another individual and interact on some human level. And that's wrong!
What in the name of militant shit and all its soldiers was he thinking when he decided to put this together? I mean, not satisfied with just a YouTube video as a cry for help, but shit alive, a whole website? A campaign? I'll bet he's even sent out press releases. Oh, David, David, David.
Am I being unfair? Maybe. But, David, dude, when the ONLY comment in response to your video opus is from TURNTOCHRIST then you have to start questioning just how far you've strayed from the herd... Read TURNTOCHRIST's profile, my friends. I think we can all agree that there's no one - but no one - you'd rather have randomly strike up a conversation with you while pressed into undue proximity on the Northern Line. If that shit's wrong I don't ever want to be right.
But, wait - I'm having an epiphany! David's mission may not be so mental afterall. In fact, dear friends, having thought it over, I realise now that David L Sommers has but shed a searchlight upon the tip of the ice-breaking iceberg! There is more - so much more that we could do on the 17th December 2008 to free up the people of London. Witness the manifesto:
I hope that everyone out there will join me, David L Sommers and the muscular missionary TURNTOCHRIST in celebrating Touch Up The Tube Day 2008! (I plan to have T-shirts made bearing a Tube symbol and the words 'Mind The Grope'. Pre-order through Amazon now.)
Because it kills puppies, you charlie-addled dog-murderer! Cute little Columbian mountain hounds like Pablo. Dead. Evicerated. And why? All so you can meet targets and get your cheap disco kicks. You wanker. Look:
But, hey, brother - I'm no saint. Pablo is a wake up call to us all. I too had no idea that snorting six grams of mid-grade Bolivian toot up my schnozz would have this kind of bugger's backlash. I give to PAYE to the animal shelter, for christ's sake! I might as well have been pissing it into the eyes of a guide dog, such is my hypocrisy.
I feel sick. A septum flapping like a bleeding letterbox I can handle, but this... This is just too much. Pablo! Oh, Pablo what have we done to thee? I feel the weight of a nation's shame upon my junkie shoulders. And I'd only just recovered from the revelation that downloading movies is an act of social terrorism!
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