Now that I have a desk I can get under properly and plenty of space on it, I decided to get the TV out of the spare room and put it where I can actually watch it. It’s been about ten years since I last watched TV on anything like a regular basis, and it wasn’t often then.
Most of the programs I’ve found during my flicking fall into four categories:
1. Property finding.
2. Selling antiques and gubbins.
3. Cooking.
4. Being perfect.
Don’t get me wrong – of course there are soaps, dramas, comedies and documentaries around as well. But the big four seem to be the dominating flavour and weren’t so virulent last time I switched on.
I pass by the property ones, unlikely as I am to ever be able to buy or sell it. The antiques and paraphernalia are sometimes intriguing and enjoyable. The cooking gets my interest though it can be tricky when I am trying to lose weight and hear about some extravagant gorgeous sounding dish concocted by someone on Come Dine With Me.
But it’s the perfectionist piffle which really irritates me. I mean the kinds of programs where they ask strangers how attractive someone is and “pod” dooms them for evermore if they don’t make the grade; overweight people suffer the collective bitchiness of the others in the group if they don’t meet today’s shedding target. And in between they’ll blast you with ads for miracle products to make your house more sterile than an operating theatre, your face the most beautiful and town and every aspect of your life saved from the big bad world by the perfect insurance policy.
This is nothing new but TV in general does seem to have a more preachy, competitive feel to it than when I last watched. Most people are probably acclimatised to this but I am beginning to wonder whether I should have left the TV buried in the spare room.
Fifty minus Eight 