|It's all right, Miranda's on in a minute|
“I dunt watch the nooze right coziss like rilly depressin?” yawned Shelley Peters, a soon-to-be-redundant housing benefit clerk, as several channels she wasn’t watching continued to show angry citizens in repressive states like Yemen, Egypt and Tunisia risking their lives and liberty to end decades of injustice. “Now yerv made me miss the start uv EastEnders? Piss orf wilya.”
Husband Mark, a call-centre slave, suddenly yelled, “Yurss! Fucken avet!” from the bedroom, as a thick millionaire wearing a shirt he likes kicked a ball in a particularly pleasing way.
“This country’s fucked innit,” he grumbled, scratching an irritating testicle as he lurched down the stairs to extract another container of hop-flavoured water from the fridge. “Why dunt sumbdy do sumfin ‘bout it ay? See them student wankuz a few weeks back kickin off rite? Buncha poncy middle-class bastuds the lot uv um. Speshly that gobby scrounger twat inna wheelchair. Thas my fucken taxes payin for that yeah? Good on them coppuz, givenum a right kicken. Servum right.”
“Wankuz,” he added as he stumped back upstairs to exercise his brain some more on Facebook about the unfortunate absence of his two favourite bigots from the airwaves.
The BBC later apologised.