Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Money for nothing...

Words from a Bird.  Day 42

Today I have ventured downstairs, hauling my sorry carcass gingerly down the stairs, making a new camp in the lounge.  This has opened up to me the joy of day time TV.  I have decided that if you are of a certain age (probably somewhere over 75) then watching this drivel all day is just speeding up the process of shuffling off this mortal coil.

First up was Loose Women.  Looking at the four ladies on there today, there was nothing loose about them that I could see, unless you wanted to talk about their clothing.  Three of the four were into layering as I believe it's called.  I call this kind of dressing camouflage, as you are obviously trying to hide something, unsuccessfully it would appear.  The subjects they discussed today were kids being on their mobiles too much, which then morphed very neatly into mental illness.  All in the same sentence, as smooth as the Irish Sea in October.  How neatly it flowed...

Jeremy Kyle was next.  You all know how I feel about him and his co-stars (see 'Wasteland') so I only watched this for a couple of minutes, as my rib dictates that I am unable to throw anything at the TV or shout obscenities at the dreadful people on there.  This takes all the joy out of it, so I switched over to watch an orange man in a bad suit selling Chinese coins to an unsuspecting auction house on behalf of a fat bald man who had 'plenty more where they came from, Dave'.  China?  I don't think so my friend.  Turned out they were forgeries with less silver in them than in the orange man's hairdo.

The pinnacle of my wrist slashing afternoon was Come Dine with Me, where five strangers meet up over five consecutive nights and feed each other, with the best received meal winning £1000.  Watching this made me realise that they haven't quite got them all locked up yet.  A man who dressed as a woman, two women who obviously loathed each other, one man who fell asleep at the table after every meal and a woman who wouldn't eat the roasted duck set down in front of her, as it was the equivalent of a 'pet on a plate' do not make for a pleasant evening.

And now time for a small confession.  Tipping Point was the last thing I watched before the sensible stuff came back on.  I quite like Tipping Point as it reminds me of my misspent youth spent hanging around in various penny arcades in the south of England.  Admittedly, the coins are bigger and you're not allowed to kick the machine, but it's still OK. 

What really makes me laugh though, is the adverts between all these age and employment-specific programmes.  Funeral planning, accident claims, reclining furniture, Tena Lady, payday loans etc, etc, all these adverts come to an end at 6.00pm.  Obviously, their targeted audience do one of two things at that time.

1. Go to bed because all the good programmes are finished
2. Go to the pub because they're out of 'tins' and 'smokes'.

So after today, I am more determined than ever to get this battered old body moving.  One more afternoon of this kind of TV could send me over the edge...

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