Derren Brown The Not-So-White

These days I simply can’t go a whole day without some raving lunatic ranting to me about how Mr. Brown is the most incredible man alive. Even as I stay indoors and evade my family, the curse of the internet furthers my pain by screaming at me that Mr. Brown is a genius who deserves everyone’s love, a blowjob from Gordon Brown and a shit-load of money. So why DOESN’T he have that then? After all, for what feels to me like a few weeks ago, (I don’t know, maybe it was last year, I don’t have very good time perception), he ‘successfully predicted the lottery’. Of course he did. There’s no other logical explanation. He’s the glorious reincarnation of Hades, Lucifer and Shiva, all rolled into one. He’s the new not-so-Jesus deity that’s going to kind of save us all. With magic. If he can predict what underwear you’re wearing, then the lottery would be a breeze. So how come he’s never genuinely won the lottery. Why doesn’t he go out, buy a lottery ticket, and win like the smart-arsed, gay voiced bastard he is. ‘OH BECAUSE HE’S SUCH A NICE MAN AND DOESN’T WANT OTHER PEOPLE TO SUFFER DUE TO HIS GENIUS’, you may hear other people saying. So he wouldn’t even go out and win…not even one teeny weeny time?

Let’s not forget the week after that where he froze THE WHOLE GODDAMN COUNTRY WITH DISORIENTATING LINES. Let me elaborate my theory to you on that. It’s no doubt, what with the countless people saying ‘OMG I GOT STUCK TO MY CHAIR OMG IT FELT SO WEIRD LOLOLOLOL’, that some people did indeed, become ‘stuck’. Far as I’m concerned, there were no cynical bastards out there who sat there thinking ‘This isn’t going to work, this isn’t going to work, THIS ISN’T GOING TO WORK’ that suddenly got stuck and realized what fools there were for being so arrogant for not believing in sticky magic. While the more gullible of us gawped at the box while telling ourselves that yes, Mr. Brown can do anything, and so we WILL be frozen to our seats, whether we like it or not.

Well personally I damn hope I’m correct, otherwise give it a year or two, and Mr. Brown will be showing a new trick in which he possesses half the nation and commands them to brutally murder the other half, all the while England smiles and congratulates Mr. Brown for being such a smart man while they smash each other’s teeth out, preferably with sledgehammers. I guess it’s up to me and my like, the cynical bastards, to form a small resistance against the Evil overlord Mr. Brown, which should roughly last 3 minutes before he yells at us the colour of our underwear while we go cry in a small corner. Still, he’d probably be busy answering the shitloads of letters and e-mails he’s received asking him to predict the lottery for them.