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Hamster Ball
Feat. Horatio Nelson
My darlings, my freaks. It’s a warm welcome, once again, to Weirdtown! Put the graphic in here Gary, thi- yes, yup…once again t-to Weirdtown. Readers of some magazine recently voted our fearless, peerless journalism here on the show as London’s second most worthless new contribution to the godless hellscape where you and I now find ourselves marooned. It’s no one else’s fault you’re still watching this.
My name (forget last time) is, I think, Audrey Oswell. I am the founder, the editor-in-chief, and the Chef de Partie de Poulet de Pate de Fruit et cetera of this, what are we calling it, of this channel.
Before today I’ve never posted public video of my own face even once in my life — nah the guy last week was my brother, pour one out for a sweet boy lost — so I see no value in apologising for cringe now. Because the world already ended last week, as you already know; and because trying is pointless, as you are beginning to learn.
This being Weirdtown’s debut broadcast or stream or, man I don’t know how you’re watching this rubbish, we’re showing you losers some real leadership by making a maiden voyage bang and whimper, combined. Hold onto your mason jars, lads: our main story tonight boldly tackles the most talked about world event since they decommissioned the bendy bus. A special investigative report on the literal end…
