UnNews:TV Series The Wire Threatens Nothing Short of Middle Classes Extinction
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10 June 2009
YA YA's OLIVE SANTUARY, Notting Hill -- The sun lazily lifts it sorry self from its slumber. And in the quiet cul-de-sacs, modern apartments and red-bricked starter homes, occupants awake to the absence of the sound of crying babies. For childlessness is no longer a choice of the very few - it is the necessary occupation of the entire middle-classes.
Birth rates in English speaking countries have dropped by an average of over 80% in the Skinny Latte generation in the last five years, with many fearing that the whole population of those that own medium sized low-maintenance gardens will be wiped out by 2030.
And what pray tell is the plague that has sent the bourgeois barren? HBO drama ’The Wire’ is the guilty party sir. The middle-classes have been stubbonly unwilling to have intercourse since they became hooked watching this Baltimore drama, due to the perceived comparative weak characterisation of their partners.
Problems first became evident when it was noticed social gatherings of all kinds had become increasingly rare. 'In the beginning we couldn't get enough of going to Tapas Bars and Homeopathy clinics to tell those who hadn't seen The Wire that they "knew NOTHING about ANYTHING and simply HAD to watch it"' London PR consultant Richard Hedgemeadow commented. 'But then, as it became clear all of our peers were watching it, events such as barbeques and 'going into the office' became just plain painful, as the ensemble was patently not suitably Dickensian.'
Rachael Scone is typical of many victims of ‘The Wire’. She was a happy Seattle house-wife who was often naked, trying to fill her slow-cook oven with a shrivelled pink bun with the help of husband Scott’s intensely pungent off-white sperm. But then a friend sneezed her the box-set of the first series. 'It was just after episode 9 and Scott was penetrating me from behind, and I suddenly realised this act…this sex…was incapable of simultaneously exploring race, poverty and "the death of the American working class.". There seemed no point to it.'
Even those that still wished to procreate found their penis's compromised by this 'broadcast literature'. George Richbone, a Swindon, UK expression facilitator explains: 'All of my friends, all of my family - I'd incessantly barraged them all with laboured praise of The Wire until they'd all themselves become hooked on "what stories get told and what don't and why it is that things stay the same." There was no one left to convince, my life lost its rich and smug meaning. The only solution my wife and I could conceive was to have children of our own which we could bring up and then eulogise The Wire to.' Richbone pauses, his cramped neck allowing his head a brief glance down to his crotch, 'I just couldn't sustain an erection; my body had adapted, evolved; the blood that would normally be used to fill up my little champion was diverted to my brain to contemplate the multi-layered nature of the character Omar. My own cock was all too aware that it was superfluous in the pursuit of pressing 'play' on a DVD remote control.'