Imagine if you will, a dreadful Sunday night BBC kitchen sink drama about a depressed Yorkshire family trundling haplessly along to a drearily tragic conclusion over three pointless and soul-destroying episodes. Imagine that same drama is struck by a bolt of magical s##t-lightning and is somehow spot-welded into the fevered imagination of a novice screenwriter just off a dramatic writing course who has just watched The Walking Dead and eaten lots of cheese just before bedtime. This is the crap that would result from this unfortunate and sorry incident. Avoid it at all costs.
Meanwhile, I'm off to write a sporting biopic crossed with elements of the movie Cloverfield.
Meanwhile, I'm off to write a sporting biopic crossed with elements of the movie Cloverfield.
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