One of the luxuries of Christmas is being able to watch some telly. For the rest of the year I’m usually too busy to catch anything much more than Corrie on a regular basis. (One of the things that annoys me are these two-part dramas on consecutive nights — I invariably watch the first part and miss the second, or catch the second and wished I’d watched the first.)
So morning and afternoon I’ve been keeping up with the cricket and then sat through the Weakest Link and re-runs of old comedies such as Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em, Porridge etc. Tonight looks particularly promising on Five which has an evening of tacky Christmas specials with the Goodies, Robin’s Nest, George and Mildred, Morecambe and Wise and Steptoe and Son.
Okay, so it’s complete tosh for the most part, but its nostalgic tosh. And it certainly all that reality tv rubbish. (I read today that the tv companies have 176 of ’em planned for next year, everything from people prepared to have cosmetic surgery, paternity tests or sex for the benefit of the great British viewing public.)
But what gets me about festive telly is the things they try to sell you in the ad breaks. Okay, so holidays and rip-off Christmas hamper clubs are a staple for this time of year, and it might just be that your sofa is groaning so much under the extra weight gained at the dinner table that you desperately need to rush out on Boxing Day to buy a new one, but a sun awning? Or electric garage doors?
And why do they use John Stalker to recommend them? Does being the policeman who investigated the “shoot-to-kill” policy in the 1980s qualify him as an expert on household gizmos? Very odd.