I had a deal with reality TV, which lasted for the first few years of the genre. I would agree to watch the show, and genuinely take an interest in the contestants’ fortunes for the duration of the show, on the proviso that, the instant the show finished, those contestants would fuck off and never be heard from again. But they Welshed on the deal, and we’re forced to put up with endless appearances on cookbooks, radio spots, Eurovision, and … umm … the arse ends of Corollas.
Although this sticker of that bogan who came second to that weird Christian virgin is perhaps not, of itself, exceptional, it instantly reminded me me of two simple but lovely Worsts from the olden days. I think this is sweet.
By Dave P. Freo.