My heart is broken... er, by an 18th century Venetian

Casanova tonight broke my heart. I wept, then I was a bit icked with Casanova's son, and I wept. Then I wept some more. As the credits rolled over a beautiful moonlit Venetian scene, I was caught up in the beauty and the sadness of Casanova's life.

And it was right about there that Phil bloody Mitchell spewed forth a dire litany of threats for a promo for EastEnders.

And lo, my heart was filled with RAGE.

Not even Chrissie's perm could induce the vendetta for that bloody programme I have now.