Telethon; so what’s on at the pub then?

The bastards who tugged the nostalgic heart-strings

Bringing back Telethon was a bigger mistake than that made by the animal rights activists who released the rage-infected monkey at the beginning of 28 Days Later.

It surely equals the decision to introduce the cane toad to Australia,  the wrong turn taken by Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s driver, and the decision of the Titanic’s radio operators to not relay “non-essential” ice messages to the bridge.

We should have left Telethon dead and buried in the 80s. And I can pinpoint the exact moment that this suddenly dawned on all involved, like a creeping collective discovery of subcutaneous parasites: It was mid-Sunday morning, right between items by the Pakuranga Book Club & Embroiders Choir and the Hokitika Trout Whistlers.

They all suddenly thought, in a hive-mind moment, ‘Oh yeah, that’s why we stopped doing them 16 years ago. This has to be the worst thing I’ve ever seen with my two eyes. Just keep smiling, just for 12 more hours, shit shit shit…’

Great cause – obviously I’m not having a go at that, bravo in fact. But I just think there are better ways to make money for charity. For example, NZers could have been given the opportunity to review Telethon’s of the past and then pay to have it kept off our screens. I’m sure that would have obliterated the $1,944,225 raised.

Personally, I would have taken donations to eat an old horse’s cock just to avoid another Telethon, sans tomato sauce.