Time to talk trash I'm loathed to admit it, but after watching the so-so last Matrix movie, I switched channels and became engrossed in the season finale of ITV's paean to naked, trashy satire, Footballers' Wives



Besides the obvious allure of half-naked athletic bodies, the show is quite good fun. Camp acting, ludicrous storylines, and laugh-out-loud dramatic moments (the hemaphrodite baby!). Now that Jason's gone, I don't really think there are any fanciable men, but Zoe Lucker deserves an award for being so over-the-top trashy. Classic moment last night, Tanya discovering her dead sugar-daddy had been sabotaging their condoms. Fantastic.



Now, as penance, I'm going to have to read the entire oeuvre of French existentialism to redress an aesthetic balance, but it was worth it.