I Don't Know Why I Bother.
So. I am watching Torchwood again.
Accidentally on purpose.
And I am a Torchwood Apologist, it seems. No, Apologist isn't quite the right word. I'm not defending it, I'm just sitting there saying, "Nope. This is awful. It makes no sense. DON'T ASK ME WHY I LOVE IT I COULDN'T EVEN TRY TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU. Yes, there's a pterodactyl. No, you won't find out about it for another 21 episodes. Yes, I know Jack has a gun trained on Ianto. It's fine. Their relationship is somehow magically true love soon enough. And here is the scene where, when under attack by a cyberman, their first line of defense is to make out with each other. No, no, no, we like Rhys. Stop it. He just wants Gwen to video Wife Swap. Really, it's the least she can do. Look, there's a rift in time, okay? Just. It happens sometimes. I don't know. Weevils. Shut up. Jack is an omnisexual. Om nom nom. That's what it means, sure, fine, go with that. No - he can die, he just doesn't stay that way. Don't even get me started on what happens to Owen. There's just darkness when you die. Lots of darkness. You probably don't get migraines and hangovers are a little easier. They're a secret organization. Ignore the lack of secret-keeping. They all wear shirts to the pub saying 'Ask Me About Torchwood.' And then they have sex. With everyone. Whatever. I'm done."
Seriously, what the HELL is this show?
Sherlock was much easier to explain.
"Detective. Doctor who can shoot stuff. Crimes. Homoerotic subtext. Tea."
They really enjoyed Sherlock.
Accidentally on purpose.
And I am a Torchwood Apologist, it seems. No, Apologist isn't quite the right word. I'm not defending it, I'm just sitting there saying, "Nope. This is awful. It makes no sense. DON'T ASK ME WHY I LOVE IT I COULDN'T EVEN TRY TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU. Yes, there's a pterodactyl. No, you won't find out about it for another 21 episodes. Yes, I know Jack has a gun trained on Ianto. It's fine. Their relationship is somehow magically true love soon enough. And here is the scene where, when under attack by a cyberman, their first line of defense is to make out with each other. No, no, no, we like Rhys. Stop it. He just wants Gwen to video Wife Swap. Really, it's the least she can do. Look, there's a rift in time, okay? Just. It happens sometimes. I don't know. Weevils. Shut up. Jack is an omnisexual. Om nom nom. That's what it means, sure, fine, go with that. No - he can die, he just doesn't stay that way. Don't even get me started on what happens to Owen. There's just darkness when you die. Lots of darkness. You probably don't get migraines and hangovers are a little easier. They're a secret organization. Ignore the lack of secret-keeping. They all wear shirts to the pub saying 'Ask Me About Torchwood.' And then they have sex. With everyone. Whatever. I'm done."
Seriously, what the HELL is this show?
Sherlock was much easier to explain.
"Detective. Doctor who can shoot stuff. Crimes. Homoerotic subtext. Tea."
They really enjoyed Sherlock.