I Don't Watch Too Little TV, I Watch The Best TV. There's Difference...

If I stood up and announced that I was planning on selling my shins for medical research, I'd probably not get a strange look. Instead, people would probably point out that without shins, I should now be called Tony (toe-knee, get it? I'm here all week, try the beef). If I decided that I would now sell all my worldly possessions, set up in a tent and wear nothing but shoes on my ears, I'd barely get so much as a raised eye-brow. Even if I went so far as to declare that I will dive into the sea with a Great White Shark because I thought he wanted a hug, then you'd probably come up with a reason or two to agree with me. However if I tell people that at most I watch probably two or three hours of TV a week, they stand there gawping at me, their jaw sitting on the pavement three feet away from them, while they wonder if I've injected an extra strong dose of stupid. I might as well have said that 1+1= a jam sandwich, the reaction would probably have been better. But, honestly, I watch so little television simply because I am too busy doing other things, like working, studying and maybe using the screen to work my Xbox. If I do watch it, it's normally to watch one of the endless Top Gear re-runs on Dave, new Top Gear when it comes on, and sometimes Come Dine With Me.


This all started before my epic house-move recently, at my old flat where the aerial was so rusty, that it was now part of the wall. This meant it became more of a decorative ornament and we had to use something we bought from Argos. Once we'd got past the people who seem to buy all their jewellery from there, we plugged it into the TV, boosting our channels from 0 to..... 4. Not even the interesting ones either, just the first three BBCs, and some obscure Russian news deal. No matter how much moving, turning, spinning or elevating I did to the aerial, it still delivered nothing but fuzzy screen and fuzzy hats. Even moving here didn't help, as apparently sometimes when you buy a new house they don't install an aerial in the roof! That's like not having a front door, or plug sockets. It's as much of any new house as those springy door-stops that go brrdrrbrrdrrbrrdrrrrrrrr when you ping them. If you have no idea what I'm going on about, the Internet provideth, just click on the picture. Even the flat had one! It's not even like I can just swan up into the potential den that is the loft and plug a metal pole in, as they've designed it to, and I quote, "discourage access and use of the upper roof space". No, house-builders, it's my house! I know best! I will venture up there and store all manner of 15 year old artificial Christmas trees, old curtains, childhood board-games and bed-frames that every loft-space should have! I just won't be daft enough to store, say, fifty boxes of yachting magazines in there.

The problem with this, though, is that whenever anything happens on TV, I have absolutely no idea. I have no idea what a Gypsy wedding looks like, I don't know what the big deal is with Essex and their ways and whenever someone mentions Downton Abbey, I can only reply with "never been there". It's the same problem with never listening to Radio 1; I have no idea what a Nicky Minaj is, I've yet to catch Jessie J's full name, which direction this "One Direction" is, or if "Cher Lloyd" is the Cher that I'm thinking of. It's a confusing world or abbreviations and spelling errors that means that I've got to nod endlessly and pretend to fully understand what on earth is going on. Although people find this really weird as well (although not as jaw-dragging-on-the-carpet as no TV), it isn't too bad as I remind them that in five years, they will find the noises that emanate from Radio 1 scary and confusing. They will then issue the ultimate four words that marks any person as no longer "it": That's not real music". I've so far avoided this trap, and I dislike Radio 1 mostly for their insistence of playing the same three songs on repeat and the presenters being terminally painful to listen to, rather than any yearning for "my day". Were it not for wonders like Spotify or YouTube, I would not be able to cope. Thanks to these wonders, I can now listen to what I want without having to endure Chris Moyles' monotonous voice, or the fact that he seems to have borrowed all his wit, quirks and comedy from an under-prepared ham sandwich.

Which brings me neatly onto the TV version of these watch-what-you-want-even-if-it's-EastEnders-at-2:17am websites, that shows you anything that's been on TV recently. Not just things like iPlayer and 4OD, but some of the best of TV is to be found on random websites. The other day, I discovered that something called "cheaters" exists. Basically, it consists of a presenter, a film crew and a disgruntled spouse as they try and catch people playing a spot of "exchange the bodily fluids" with someone they shouldn't. Now, the idea of this in itself is hilarious in the way it takes what I would imagine to be a private issue and turns it into a strange cringe/comedy hybrid so the ad-breaks in the middle can sell more hair product, but, whatever. The reason I mention this is one specific part of one specific episode where they walked into a hotel room, only to catch some guy with another lady. Now, they weren't quite swapping DNA at this stage, but I can say that I can't describe in major details what was happening or post a link, lest the host of this blog start asking questions about the readership and slap a massive red NSFW (not safe for work) sticker on my scrawlings, but it involved a full-head mask, y-fronts made from cow-hide and something that would not be out of place at a horse-racing shop. Yeah, you can do the maths. After watching an exchange of a combo of "why is there a TV camera at my door" and "what is wrong with you", there was a quick arrest after the now probably quite cold man decided the presenter of the show was the one in the wrong here, and fisticuffs was the only way to add some dignity to this glorious mix.

And in that moment, I realised that I don't mind having never been to "Downton Abbey National" or "Hollyoaks Farm". I don't need to spend millions of hours watching TV for the best bits. The answer lies simply in waiting a short while, and someone will be kind enough to stick it on the internet. Best adverts from around the world? Nope: Chuck Testa (click on the link if you don't get it). A couple who haven't kissed anyone until their Wedding night try it out? Why not!

So it doesn't even phase me at all that someone doesn't watch TV much. No Internet connection, however? Now that's a whole new level of weird!

Tweet