THE ON DEMAND

Please stop telling me about the on demand television. Enough already.

Who's demanding television? What am I - Mussolini? Slapping my palm against the desk, "I must have television! Bring me television! Get me Dick York episodes of Bewitched immediately!!!"

Really, TV people, here's the deal I'm offering - broadcast stuff I want to see and I'll tune in, okay? Broadcast stuff I'm not so interested in, I'll just switch off. Let's not overcomplicate the equation here.

And the interactive TV - pressing a red button - is this really "interacting"? Because, you see, pressing a button on my remote to watch something else - I'm pretty sure we've already got this concept. In the old days, we used to call that "switching over". I'm on the interactive stuff, and, really, I'm still just watching. It's very passive. My interactivity was a whole lot higher when I plugged my TV set in in the first place, if we can be honest with each other.

When you offer me an interactive TV service, I don't expect to just press a button and watch some wardrobe person choosing shirts. I expect to be there, in the kitchen with Darrin and Samantha Stephens, doing the dishes while they're talking over breakfast.

"Good morning, darling."

"Good morning, honey. You'll be pleased to know I haven’t used magic once so far today."

"That's just great, dear. But why is there a clown doing the washing up?"

"Don't mind me, bub, I'm just interacting with the TV."

"Well, you're getting soap suds all over the front of the cabinet, there."

"Eurgh! Tough crowd!"

You know, I'm turning on the TV, I'm going through the channels, I've got twelve property selling shows, half a dozen news channels warning me that there may or may not be a hosepipe ban next month, and an old episode of Friends to contend with. I don't seem to be finding a lot of on demand here - mostly what I'm getting is a glut of supply.

THE GUEST HOST

Hey-hey-hey, Krusty has been kind of busy lately, with no time to update the ol' Klown College. But this klown ain't so busy he hasn't been writing material for other people! Find new Krusty in a new time slot on a new station here: http://stevegoble.blogspot.com/2005/09/guest-host.html. But come back soon, I ain't done with you yet!

KRUSTY GETS DRAFTED

If I'm going to go to war, my choice would be to be drafted for a civil war. I've looked at the options, let me assure you, and I think civil war is the best of a bad bunch.

No war is good, except, of course, for Star Wars. All other forms of war are terrible. As I understand it, total war has the whole shebang, everything you're looking for in a war. Atomic war can be a blast, I'm sure. You have to pack thermals if you want to be involved in the Cold War. The war of attrition is really just a lot of waiting around. I'll accept that price wars can be fun, for a while, but really I don't want to be fighting over a two pence price drop in the cost of beans. And, knowing my luck, if I was at the war to end all wars I'd be looking in the wrong direction when it actually ended.

Yessireebob, the war for me is civil war. I assume that people are more civilised in civil war. They look out for each other, they think about the other people involved. Really, there are rules to the civil war - that what makes it civil. This is what people mean when they talk about killing someone with kindness.

They say war is hell. But, civil war is more a case of "war is brush yourself down, old chap, you'll be fine, do you need a hand up?"

THE PLAY HARD

"People who work hard... play hard" seems to be the popular philosophy these days. It's not just advertisers. Employers are using the phrase, or variations thereof, with what can only be described as gay abandon in their pep talks and job specs, I've noticed.

Working hard, I get. Do the job well, diligently, put in the hours. Oh, I'm fine with working hard.

Playing hard - not so much. Who's playing hard? I certainly don't want to play hard. Play's supposed to be fun, that's what play is. Not hard. Never hard. If it's difficult, it ceases to be play. If it's hard, that's work.

Any board game that takes a lot of setting up can be pretty hard. Remember Mouse Trap, with all the balancing of parts and the elastic bands and turning cogs that had to fit together just so? You had to set all that stuff up before the get-go, so that was pretty hard play, especially if you're impatient or, y'know, expected it to work.

So, I guess this is what the corporate go-getters are talking about. They work hard and they play Mouse Trap. Will I ever truly understand their mentality?

MY ONE CENTS...

Is 1.99 fooling anyone? It's £2. That's what you're paying there. Two pounds, two dollars, two euros. We're wise to the .99, now, friends. Let it go. Stop clogging up my pockets with your foul pennies.

When I say "my pockets" I'm actually using shorthand. What I really mean is my pockets, my desk, that drawer beside my bed, that strange little saucer by the door, my cupboard, any board game lacking a playing piece, the back of my sofa, and any other flat surface, partially hidden nook, or vessel that I can ignore in the general, day-to-day living at Klown College.

The pennies are gradually taking over the world by sheer weight of numbers. They're the insects of the monetary system. Even after a nuclear holocaust, there will still be the pennies, scrabbling around, filling our wallets and purses with their coppery misery.

"How much for the roast, irradiated rat?"

"One ninety-nine, guv."

"Eurgh!"

This has been the 200th Krusty entry, incidentally. And, hey - no change.