Oh my sack! My body trembles as I write this. My legs are frozen to the ground. I have received two mind blowing things this morning. Firstly, we have recevied contact from the TBG…. and secondly……. he is somehow connected to David Hasselhof!

I know!

This is the email I received from the alleged TBG:

Wake up people, David Hasselhof is a legend.

It seems that we are on a pointless crusade, thoughtlessly fighting to fault the one man we have all, at some honest point in our lives, dreamt of being. We mock him for things which subconsciously we dream of.

I have known Michael for some time now. We met in the mid 80’s when I used to run for the sofa at 7pm, still chewing my last mouthful of dinner, launch from at least a meter and half away in order to beat my brother and make it just in time to feel the opening tune of Knight Rider pulsate through my body like a rush of adrenalin. It would run down my veins and pump through my heart transporting me into the bucket seat of what must be every boys dream. The talking car… a talking car… KITT (If you don’t know what that stands for you are a loser).

He gave us our very first injection of artificial intelligence right there. How many times have we fantasized: Setting off on the open road, darning a daring blood-red polar neck and jet-black leather jacket, KITT, armour-plated, chick-pulling, auto-piloted, gun-shielding, mach-speed bulleting, turbo-boost buttoning, black-talking Trans-fricken-Am, complete with red swishing unnecessarily spicy lights.

The TBG and The Hoff – UN BE LIEVABLE

Take a bow Michael, excellent first scene.

Curtains open.

Scene two.

Enter Mitch Buchannon. Time stood still, literally.

Leaving us (for what seemed like an eternity) in a trail of dark tight jeans, red polar necks, open necked shirts and shattered youthful dreams, he struck back. Coming in from the cold, like an explosion of sunshine, bringing a new form of red in the form of breath-takingly tight shorts despite obviously skinny legs. He found us again, and realizing that we were older, wiser and completely puberty stricken, he gave us California. He made it hot, and he put in right back in front of our KITT sofa.

He invested in Bay Watch himself and hence continued his influence on the shaping of our future. By rejuvenating a failed show, he gave us a reason to live, a reason to wake up every morning, a reason to look past the pimples reflecting in the rain drenched window. He gave us Pamela Anderson. He placed her, running, on a heavenly innocent, white, desolate beach, with a back-lit, shimmering sea like the sparkling of an angel’s blue eyes. He did all this just for us, and what’s more, he did it in slow-mo.

Then, as Bay Watch started to droop, David looked inside, deep inside, and touched the desire we all have, he wanted to be a rock star. David, knowing that his voice was somewhat shocking, traveled to where people wouldn’t know the difference between Kenny Rodgers and William Hung. He went to East Berlin before the wall came a crumbling down and there he sang those big hunky lungs out for those poor lost people. He gave them an anthem and an 8 week number one. Once again putting others first.

He has since earned a long over due star on the Hollywood Walk of fame, checked into the Betty Ford Clinic like all good rock stars and been personally fucked by OJ Simpson. The guy is hurting people.

As a final thought, let’s all walk down that childhood memory lane and remember David’s sprinkling of black Trans-Ams, polar-necks, leather, red shorts, beautiful woman, beautifully curly hair, white teeth, endless good times and all the sweet joy he has given to us.

Thank you David, you are indeed a legend.

– The TBG

I am finished….