I have a confession to make, that will shock and stun many of you, and I can only apologise for the trauma caused. I am not normally given to this level of public intimacy, but fear that my actions may be symptomatic of a decline into lower levels of consciousness that might detract from the value of the advice and counsel that you derive from these pages.
Many years ago, I experimented to see whether it was possible to sit through an entire evening of Saturday night ITV television programmes. I never made it. In fact, if the evening began with Ted Rogers and “3, 2, 1” I couldn’t last 10 minutes. I dismissed the whole lot as drivel, trash and crap, and went to watch a Samuel Beckett play on BBC2 or something. From what I can tell little has changed over the years. The schedules have been taken up by Bruce Forsyth, Cilla Black, Ant and Dec, game shows for the lobotomised, the dying remnants of what was called “Variety”, and latterly appalling celebrity shows. These are all to be avoided for the sake of one’s well being, in the same category as syphilis, English cuisine and the Tory party.
For the last few weeks, however, I have found myself watching a programme on Saturday evening ITV. There, I’ve said it. Please stay to help me redeem myself. It is at times such as these that friends are invaluable. The item in question is called “Harry Hill’s TV Burp”. I like it. It makes me laugh. On Saturday, I laughed out loud. My name is Vicus and I am a low-brow.
Thank you. Your advice will be welcomed and noted.
If you would like to read some first rate apology, then go over to my new friend Reg’s site.
If you would like to read something worthwhile, then see what Foilwoman has been up to. I read it regularly, but seldom sully her jottings with my dross.
13 comments:
I must admit I fell into the same category as you; I have never watched an entire Saturday night ITV show. Unlike you, though, I have not seen an entire edition of Burp (although I have watched the odd 10 minutes).
I am, therefore, unable to offer any help.
Dave, this is entirely with my expectations.
I am of an even lower brow. I occasionally watch a whole Sunday evening of ITV, especially if the title contains the word "Heart". I don't meditate but I am assured this is a very good substitute. Harry Hill makes me laugh too. I shouldn't really.
prizes? may I have a Crackerjack pencil please!
(that was probably the last time I watched TV for hours on end - it didn't make me laugh much, but I'd love one of the pencils anyhow)
more coffee or tea anyone? I've got pots of the stuff. . .
Harry Hill is not lowbrow. The man is a genius.
Harry Hill is not lowbrow. The man is a genius.
I am starting to feel a little less insecure. What is Harry Hill doing on Saturday evening ITV though?
I feel so unworthy. Perhaps Her Noodley Magnificence forced you to link to me? Anyway, thank you. Tonight: new sick and disturbing post about the Christian god as a serial killer. Or dating. One or the other. Really, there's not much difference.
Murph recently left a comment on my blog asking if I wrote for TV Burp. Having seen his remarks here, I can only assume he means "Harry Hill is not lowbrow. The man is a genius. However, the show's writers are a bunch of arseholes".
I don't watch telly. In fact, can you remind me what it looks like?
Dear Vicus,
I'm sorry, you have beaten me on this one. Not even H Hill and his digestive problems can make me stay in on a Saturday night these days. It all went tits up after they scrapped The Basil Brush Show, I seem to recall.
Post Thatcher and the advent of the "toil-harder-Sector-Seven-Work-Drone!" society, the TV schedulers know that all the fully cerebrally developed people in this country want to do on a Saturday night is to go out and become sophisticated, organic machines for converting alcohol into urine! As a result, they fill the evening's "entertainment" with programmes specifically aimed at the mollusc-brained. They know they can get away with it - ever heard of a mollusc writing to Points of View to complain about the standard of programming? QED.
No, Vicus, when the little hand is on the six and the big hand is on the o'clock on Saturdays, run, run for you life! Soon it will all be over and you can limp home, ready to watch some healthy, informative programmes on Sunday - like that bastard John Craven extolling the virtues of fox hunting, mole strangling, sparrow raping and deer beating on Country File!
As a wise man once said when told that a REAL woman could stop him drinking - "Yeah? It would have to be a REAL BIG woman."
Keep the faith,
Reg.
Reg. You are welcome here as cultural advisor.
You others, don't take Reg too seriously, I know you are far too sensible to imbibe alcohol of a Saturday evening.
Telly on a Saturday night? Channel Five is fine for me, from NCIS, through CSI then Law & Order.
321...what was that all about? Those riddles were so fucking stupid. And, if memory serves me right, they always won a boat, living in a terraced house in somewhere nowhere near the sea like Solihull!
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