I’ve written about a lot of coming-of-age stories on this blog. Harry Potter, Carrie, a Series of Unfortunate Events, Glee, Riverdale, Sugar Rush, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Skins, you name it – if it’s about adolescence, I’ve thrown myself at it with a cheerful abandon and an attempt to obliterate the memory of my own spectacularly awkward adolescence in the process.
I’m about to do something really, really stupid.
You know, sometimes, I just feel the need to watch something fucked up.
Hey, you want to feel old?
Ever since Bojack Horseman came into being, people have been trying to predict just how it would end. Spoilers ahead, for the final season and finale.
Ah, ’tis the season: if you’re British, like mine fine self-ine, you’ll be cracking out the box-sets and settling down in a haze of fizzy faux-booze and mince pies and suchlike to inject some comedy charm straight into your needy veins.
The Cutprice Guignol 