In the last series, one was in floods of tears as two valiant members of the Torchwood team died after a heroic battle to save earth. I was desperate to see the remainder of the team on one's screen, so I could be sure they were all bearing up after such tragedies.
Well, this week saw the return of our magnificent British masterpiece and this time in a 5 part story, over consecutive nights. A story about the mysterious 4-5-6 (possibly similar to the horrors of 3-2-1 but without Dusty Bin ... and Ted Rogers); The story planted its roots in the ground by children all over the world shouting in unison, "We are coming; we are coming!". I have to say it made one feel a little uncomfortable hearing that sort of thing from ones so young, until I realised that all children are evil anyway, so continued to watch.
Anyhoo .... last night, Crusty fell off the end of her chaise! At the end of our first episode we heard all the alarm bells go off when our dashing hero, Captain Jack (John sizzles Barrowman) held Gwen's hand as she searched for comfort after discovering she was pregnant. It was at this point that Jack realised there was something of considerable size inside him too. Government assassins had slipped it in him while he was unconscious and now it was about to explode. As Gwen and Ianto ran for their lives, the device went off and Torchwood was gone ... or was it?
Tonight's gripping follow up showed Captain Jack's severed hand sticking elegantly out of the resulting rubble (honestly! Even when he's in pieces he's still trying to cop a feel of passing tottie!). The enemy de jour picked up all the pieces of Jack they could find and carried him off to their headquarters in a plastic sack. By this time I was inconsolable; how would poor Ianto and Gwen save the day without our immortal love god.
I needn't have worried; back at the lair of the Government's assassins, I squealed with delight when I saw the CCTV image from his cell showing Captain Jack's sack starting to stir and the saggy sections inflate to semi plumptiouness. He was alive!! Our baddies realised the same thing and my theory of life was confirmed when a soldier entered the cell and pulled down Jack's zip. The guey mess inside wasn't particularly pleasing to the eye but at least there was growth occurring. Crusty Hall was shook by one's screams of delight.
Then - later - one's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and one had a slight spillage when the security screen in the baddies lair showed our hero chained to his bed NAKED!!! Yes ... completely and totally in the nuddy! His finely toned, well proportioned, velvety soft frame writhed from side to side as he tried to escape his shackles. Naturally, one's eyes were drawn to his downstairs area and frustration grew as the graphics on the screen had conveniently put an "X" over his sacred spot. All Crusty could cry to her inner self was "X? X? W-h-y?!!"
Only freeze framing my Sky+ and getting right up to the screen with a powerful magnifying glass helped. It was then that I made a mental note to oneself; The next time John Barrowman and his lovely husband are in the Newcastle area and come to stay at Crusty Hall, I'll need to give them a much bigger room ... if you catch my drift, poppets?
Then ... and Crusty doesn't normally use such language, but ... the bitch ... who "killed him", poured concrete into his prison cell and all over him to lock him in a solid tomb. Fortunately Gwen and the long suffering Rhys arrived on the scene. Through a miscalculation or misfortune things went wrong and just as both were about to be shot, Ianto turned up to pull Jack's concrete box out into the open, allowing our two love birds to run to their saviour and escape via a clearly very fast digger - concrete block still firmly attached to the front.
It was not until Ianto had the foresight to get Gwen and Rhys into the safety of a waiting car, that he dropped his load over the edge of a quarry and our timeless hunk was released from his concrete prison. As he rose from the shattered pieces, all one could see was Mr Barrowman's delightfully pert buttocks, jiggling about on my 32 incher. They were so magnificent that I have instructed Chu Me to be creative in his workshop and copy the design for the airbags in the main fleet of vehicles; GUSSET 1, GUSSET 2 and GUSSET 3.
Dangerous, I know; one would almost feel the urge to have an accident if one was slamming oneself face first into such cushioned buttockplumtiousness ... but what a way to go!!
Needless to say, Crusty is hooked and cannot wait for the third instalment.
PMSL That is a wonderful start to my morning reading this . . . it has put a smile on my face! You use words like my sis uses! "Buttockplumptiousness" - I like it!
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Rebecca
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