For around six months in my second year of University, I didn't watch television. The main reason for this was that myself and my two house mates had a borderline addiction to video games. There was absolutely no time for actual television programmes. We were too busy playing Call of Duty to care anyway.
Anyway, eventually we reinstated the television as a tool for watching programmes, after a gentle push from TV Licensing. Truth be told, we were a little bit excited about having access to Freeview for the first time in months, and we immediately plugged the aerial into the TV. We only had 9 channels. The heartbreak and disappointment that fell upon that cold living room in Cheltenham in 2010 will forever be instilled in my mind for years to come.
In many ways I think that's why, nearly two years later, me and television programmes rarely interact with each other. If it's not sport, or How I Met Your Mother, then I quite simply do not want to know what each channel has to offer. I used to like Top Gear, then it became a ridiculous parody of itself in an attempt to keep making people laugh. It didn't work. I used to like Friends, then it was on eight times a day for ten years. I used to watch television for more than one hour a day. Then reality programmes aimed at just about every aspect of reality came along. The bond was well and truly broken. If I'm ever to watch television now, it's only ever to be pedantic and sarcastic about almost everything that happens. I just sit in front of the box sneering 'well, that was clearly staged', or 'that wouldn't happen in real life'. No wonder I don't have any friends.
However, in the last couple of weeks the old box has been trying to redeem itself. More surprisingly, I think the attempt is working. It started a few weeks ago with Black Mirror, the mini series penned primarily by Charlie Brooker. The premise for the first episode being "a political thriller in which fictional Prime Minister Michael Callow faces a huge and shocking dilemma when Princess Susannah, a much-loved member of the Royal Family, is kidnapped." The dilemma in question was a sexual act with a pig. A sexual act with a pig. A sexual act with a pig. It doesn't matter how many times I write it, I'm still dumbfounded that such a seemingly crude and ridiculous premise can actually be one of the most gripping dramas I've seen for way to long. The second episode just as endearing. While a little more disengaged from the reality in which we live in at the moment, it served as a poignant warning of how the future will look if we stay so embroiled in the world of smart phones, reality TV and augmented reality.
Alarmingly though, Black Mirror wasn't the best thing on television in the last week or so. It wasn't even the best thing on Channel 4 in the last week or so, due entirely to the broadcasting of This Is England '88. Continuing the story of the youngsters originally from the film, the three part series was quite simply the best thing to be put on a television schedule this year. Drama doesn't get much better. I don't think an episode of a programme has ever made me well up so consistently as the final episode did on Thursday night - and I've watched the pseudo-acting in TOWIE. Furthermore, the soundtrack was brilliant, and since the series has finished, I've found myself revisiting The Smiths' back catalogue a little bit too frequently.
So, it would appear that my faith in television hasn't been shattered altogether. It's not quite fixed either though. I'm not going to quit my job just so I can watch repeats of Homes Under The Hammer, and I can't imagine anything worse than religiously watching 4 soaps on a weekday evening. For now I'll just have to make do with the final episode of Black Mirror tonight. Then I'll probably have to pick up my Playstation controller again.
Sunday, 18 December 2011
Monday, 12 December 2011
Not-So-Vital Statistics
I read an interesting statistic last week. I found it in the Journal of Applied Psychology, and this journal happened to tell me that when men are with their girlfriends, they eat 20% more food than usual.
Now, at this point I must confess that the above paragraph isn't strictly accurate. Men are still gluttonous little toe-rags who like nothing more than to stuff themselves 20% closer to obesity. But I didn't read the statistic in a journal. I read it in More! magazine. I'm not even ashamed to say I enjoy looking through More! and almost any other woman's magazine. I'll happily pick one up if I see one knocking about. They're all so unsure of how they feel about the opposite sex that they change their opinion from page to page, and quite frankly, it makes for very entertaining reading.
Anyway, back to the statistic. 20% more food. Believable? Well, at the moment I'm not entirely sure. I'm very much aware that even when I'm on my own, I can wolf down food with a great deal of conviction. One shining example of my insatiable appetite and inability to say no often comes when I work on a Sunday. I will more often than not end up having two roast meals. I don't know, and I'm not sure I ever will want to know the sort of calorie count that comes from eating that much food. Today was worse, I had a large meal from McDonald's while I was out shopping, and then came home to find leftovers from yesterday's aforementioned roast sitting on the table. If I keep this lifestyle up, my stomach will stretch so much that by the time my metabolism slows down to it's inevitable snail-like pace, I won't be able to fit through the small doors in my house without some sort of struggle.
That said though, I probably do eat more food when I'm with my girlfriend. It's not helped by the fact that we both have a mutual love of food. More specifically Nando's. Vegetarian's aside, I struggle to fathom how people can't find a meal from Nando's enjoyable. Yes, it's essentially just chicken, but that's what makes it great. Not only do you get great food, you get great background music. This comes in the form of Portugese style cover versions of Indie songs. What's not to love? My girlfriend and I have visited so many times together that we got a free chicken. We're now a quarter of the way to our second.
That's all very well, I hear you say. But that just means you eat more chicken than you usually would. This is again true. However, if I were on my own, I probably wouldn't buy myself another half chicken to eat the next day. I almost certainly wouldn't go straight to Krispy Kreme after and take a box of doughnuts home. No, I well and truly conform to the average male in a relationship by the sounds of it. For once I'm not that bothered either. I might be in years to come when I weigh 28 stone and can do nothing but lie in a hammock. I'm doomed.
Now, at this point I must confess that the above paragraph isn't strictly accurate. Men are still gluttonous little toe-rags who like nothing more than to stuff themselves 20% closer to obesity. But I didn't read the statistic in a journal. I read it in More! magazine. I'm not even ashamed to say I enjoy looking through More! and almost any other woman's magazine. I'll happily pick one up if I see one knocking about. They're all so unsure of how they feel about the opposite sex that they change their opinion from page to page, and quite frankly, it makes for very entertaining reading.
Anyway, back to the statistic. 20% more food. Believable? Well, at the moment I'm not entirely sure. I'm very much aware that even when I'm on my own, I can wolf down food with a great deal of conviction. One shining example of my insatiable appetite and inability to say no often comes when I work on a Sunday. I will more often than not end up having two roast meals. I don't know, and I'm not sure I ever will want to know the sort of calorie count that comes from eating that much food. Today was worse, I had a large meal from McDonald's while I was out shopping, and then came home to find leftovers from yesterday's aforementioned roast sitting on the table. If I keep this lifestyle up, my stomach will stretch so much that by the time my metabolism slows down to it's inevitable snail-like pace, I won't be able to fit through the small doors in my house without some sort of struggle.
That said though, I probably do eat more food when I'm with my girlfriend. It's not helped by the fact that we both have a mutual love of food. More specifically Nando's. Vegetarian's aside, I struggle to fathom how people can't find a meal from Nando's enjoyable. Yes, it's essentially just chicken, but that's what makes it great. Not only do you get great food, you get great background music. This comes in the form of Portugese style cover versions of Indie songs. What's not to love? My girlfriend and I have visited so many times together that we got a free chicken. We're now a quarter of the way to our second.
That's all very well, I hear you say. But that just means you eat more chicken than you usually would. This is again true. However, if I were on my own, I probably wouldn't buy myself another half chicken to eat the next day. I almost certainly wouldn't go straight to Krispy Kreme after and take a box of doughnuts home. No, I well and truly conform to the average male in a relationship by the sounds of it. For once I'm not that bothered either. I might be in years to come when I weigh 28 stone and can do nothing but lie in a hammock. I'm doomed.
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