This Show is Dead

Me: Ello, BBC, I wish to register a complaint. This show is dead.

BBC: We're closin' for lunch.

Me: Never mind that, my man. I wish to complain about this show what I tried to watch not half a week ago on this very channel.

BBC: Oh yes, the, uh, the Top Gear...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?

Me: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my man. It's dead, that's what's wrong with it!

BBC: No, no, It's uh,...it's resting.

Me: Look, matey, I know a dead show when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.

BBC: No no it's not dead, it's, it's restin'! Remarkable show, the Top Gear, isn'it, ay? Beautiful Cars!

Me: The cars don't enter into it. It's stone dead.

BBC: Nononono, no, no! It's resting!

Me: All right then, if it's restin', I'll wake it up! (shouting at the TV) 'Ello, Mister Clarkson! I've got a lovely fast Maserati for you if you come to the studio…

(BBC fires the presenter)

BBC: There, it's running!

Me: No, it isn't, that was the news. You fired the presenter!

BBC: I never!!

Me: Yes, you did!

BBC: I never, never did anything...

Me: (yelling and typing into Youtube repeatedly) 'ELLO Top Gear Presenter!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your Unemployment Channel interview call!

(Takes smartphone and thumps it on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)

Me: Now that's what I call a dead show.

BBC: No, no.....No, The Producer's stunned!

Me: The PRODUCER’S STUNNED?!?

BBC: Yeah! You must've stunned him, shoutin' like that, just as he was wakin' up from his bleedin' lip and two hour trek to Casualty! You don’t get much sleep when you spend a night in casualty you know. And Producers stun easily, Major.

Me: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That show is definitely deceased, and when I purchased my TV licence not six months ago, you assured me that its total lack of scheduling was due to it bein' tired and shagged out from the traumatic evacuation after the latest Top Gear Special!

BBC: Well, it's...it's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.

Me: PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that? Look, why did it vanish from the screen just as the series got going?

BBC: The Top Gear prefers bein’ off the screen! Remarkable show, innit, squire? Lovely cars!

Me: Look, I took the liberty of examining the press coverage before I left home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been knocked off its perch in the first place was that you'd suspended the presenter.

(Pause)

BBC: Well, o'course we'd suspended 'im! If we hadn't suspended 'im, e'd 'ave beaten up all the crew, shot them in front of their families, and got a number plate mocking them. So we're hiring new presenters. VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

Me: "VOOM"?!? Mate, without Clarkson and the gang this show wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! It's bleedin' demised!

BBC: No no! It's pining!

Me: It's not pinin'! It's passed on! This show is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! It's pushing up the daisies! If you hadn't kept the story in the news with comparisons with Jimmy Saville it would be out of the papers and off the telly! It's metabolic processes are now 'istory! It's off the twig! It's kicked the bucket, It's shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-SHOW!!

(Pause)

BBC: Well, I'd better replace it, then.