I have finally figured it all out. I wondered why Patrick Moore – obviously most famous for being the Gamesmaster and shouting at precocious little kids for being gobby when asking for Sonic 2 cheats – wasn’t dead yet. Watching The Sky At Night just now has given me my answer.
Turns out he’s a combination of cyborg and clumsily-operated marionette, both of which combine to perfectly satirise an old (ollllld) fashioned English gentleman. You know the kind – they hate foreigns and women. Just as Patrick Moore genuinely, actually does. No, really – check it out. Maybe not hate, per se, but he has issues with them.
But yes, I was wondering just the other day how he hasn’t gone and been dead yet. The answer plopped out as quickly as I saw the amorphous blob, awkwardly gobbling his way through his script and looking as if he was the reanimated “JUSTICE!” corpse from The Day Today.
Now don’t be confused or offended: I have a great affection for Moore, as he was the Gamesmaster and Dexter Fletcher demanded to know what the next challenge was from him (for one series). I do not wish death on many people, especially not people I actually find interesting, and I am sure to be a bit miffed when he does eventually run out of batteries or whatever it is he’s going to do.
But at the same time – look at him. How the hell is he still going? He’s falling to pieces in front of our eyes, still presenting that damnable show as he is. His lips are literally blue. He can barely talk. He resembles the biggest egg wearing a monocle I’ve ever seen. My brain genuinely struggles to comprehend how someone who looks to be in such a state is not dead yet. I blame the NHS.
Anyway, I need to write to him to get some cheats for Streets Of Rage before he does go and die.