The Walking Dead… End

‘Woohoo The Walking Dead is back,’ said absolutely no one! Honestly, since the departure of Frank Darabont (despite a few episodes here and there) it has spiralled horrifically downward; with some of the worst acting I’ve ever seen, and the constant rehashing of story arcs and failed character deaths to boot. Considering this is probably the second biggest TV show in the world after Game of Thrones, they are a lifetime behind. Poor acting, poor writing, poor directing and, not one ounce of fucking fear!

Now I’ve not read the comics (because I’m a television boob) but I’d make the zombies the focus again. I don’t want an apartheid of drunken Wetherspoons patrons getting in the way, as the soulless cast traverse through every single desolated area of America. There’s been countless moments throughout when I’ve sympathised more with the walking dead than I have the overly paid dead, so let me feel for a human again; my God let me feel the love of another human again.

I’m sick to death of the Morgan’s, mullets and maelstrom that has poisoned the veins of this now rotting corpse of a television show. Maybe this is the artistic irony, the show has now become the barely functional braindead zombie that bumbles about in the background, like the Butler from Tomb Raider II. Hey, there’s a thought, why not drop Lara Croft into the mix? Maybe she will find some ancient Egyptian artefact buried deep in the catacombs of Priest Gabriel’s arse, or maybe that’s where he keeps his college acting degree. Saying that, he can act a billion times better than me, pretending there is an invisible man in the sky allowing the living dead to run rampant must be an impossible task. I’m half expecting Michonne to give birth to the Second Coming before sacrificing him/herself for our sins. Let’s face it, that Tony Jaa Jesus (martial arts fight in the woods with Morgan) wouldn’t crucify himself to save a mole hill, let alone the Hill Top community. Oh, and please don’t even get me started on “King” Ezekiel. I feel like I’m watching Shakespeare’s voyeuristic neighbour in the lead role of The Life of Pi, who uses that sadistic quill from Harry Potter to scrawl his brain farts into a high school amateur dramatics play, about chatting shit.

Why not make a select few zombies become conscious? Or make one some sort of King? Make the virus evolve for God’s sake! I want 95% of this cast dead, and the few alive afraid of these skin-shedding Terminator killing corpses. I want shock deaths, not taking Glenn out of most of the series before killing him off; that was like a soft Brexit. How about take the setting to the city, give it an Omega Man or Battle for the Planet of the Apes vibe, not just a Countryfile carnivorous calamity.

This show needs a complete Ainsley Harriott spicy mash up. I don’t want another Governor, or another Negan. I want some inbred zombie motherfucker with no heart, that would eat Rick’s baby in the blink of a glazed-over lifeless eye.

 

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