The ugly reality of television
September 9, 2010
You’d think that it would be easy to have a telly-free night in New Zealand.
When the Buckwell and I first moved back, we moaned constantly about the dearth of good telly. We missed so many things about British TV. I think we moaned for about a year.
Then at some point, maybe a few months ago, or perhaps even earlier, we realised that we were turning on the television every night we were home – and not complaining.
We were just watching whatever rubbish was being dished up to us, gobbling it down, then waiting for the next instalment. We were like ducks being fattened up for fois gras. Yet it wasn’t our livers turning to fatty mush; it was our brains.
Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t stopping us going out and doing real things, actual things – going to festivals and theatre or out to dinner, behaving like normal people when we were outside the house. But another month could have tipped us over the edge.
Luckily we acted while we were still able; before the remote permanently migrated to the sofa and stayed there. We instigated a TV-free night once a week – and for a short while it lasted. Until a couple of weeks ago.
Against our better judgement, we allowed ourselves to watch one episode of reality TV. X-Factor Australia. (Just one episode can’t hurt, right? It’s winter – what else is there to do?)
It was quite enjoyable. More than that – we laughed out loud. And now tonight, ‘just one’ is about to become ‘just one more’. Which as we all know, is the beginning of the end.
And it’s all Kyle Sandilands fault.
My name is Susan Wills and I’m a tellyholic.
