Square eyes

I love television. I will watch anything, I’m not fussy. I only have two rules: no game shows and I’m not allowed to switch it on before six o’clock. I have been known to get round rule 2 by not switching it off. Sort of like drinking yourself sober. Rule 1 I bend because really Strictly Come Dancing is a game show but it’s for charity and it’s reality television as well. Therefore allowed. And come on, Anton du Beke? The man is a god.

Although I can not bear Big Brother. I can manage Celebrity Big Brother, but only if there are no civilians in it. If I want to expose myself to the detritus of humanity I will go to a Wetherspoons pub.

I have been known to turn down a perfectly respectable night on the town for a night in front of the great black teat in the corner of my living room. Flat, wide screen just gagging to reveal all the digital delights. Even a night on the town with Madame.

It is my love of television that makes me so incensed when presented with the shambolic programme making that the (Russell) Brand Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) are so fond of. No to Robin Hood, No to Doctor Who and No, sweet jesus no, to Torchwood. Who is responsible for these aberrations? Do they have no idea? You should put people who actually watch television in charge of making it, not people who only do the job so they can tell people at dinner parties.

They, the BBC, have redeemed themselves slightly by introducing Ros to Spooks – surely everyone loves Hermione – and the miracle hour that is The Amazing Mrs Pritchard. Fabulous. I can’t wait for the DVD.

Channel 4, what ever happened to them? they used to be so special. I mourn for them. I really do. More 4? less 4 more like.