I spent the afternoon/evening with Other Patti and our friend Sally, watching several episodes of an absolutely brilliant British sitcom entitled “Black Books.” It follows the exploits of Bernard Black, a bookstore owner, his employee Manny, and Fran, who has the shop next door. I would describe it further, but I would only gum it up.
BBCAmerica has it on now in a sort of tentative fashion, but I discovered it when summering (well, “spring-ing” is more like it) in England a couple of summers back. And yes, I promise to like it still when everyone else loves it too, and Hollywood buys the American rights to it in order to do their own version and ruin the absolute hell out of it the way they’re currently doing with “The Office.”
American sitcoms have been trying so desperately hard for so many years to appeal to an ever stupider audience that they’re just not very amusing any longer. “Will and Grace” is about the only exception.
OK, gripe over.
:python:
white pebble 