I’ve been dumped, dear reader. Cruelly and unceremoniously dumped. It’s been 7 years since the relationship began and we’ve been inseparable ever since, curled up together night after night. Friends used to come over not just to see me, but to see us both. Sometimes I’d turn down a night out with them so we could have a little quality time, just the two of us. But I get home tonight and boom! It’s over.
No one should be abandoned like that. There should be some build-up, some subtle hint that things are drawing to an end: a furtive eyeroll at my efforts to channel-hop so efficiently I can watch two programs at once; a dismissive sigh as Buffy S4 goes in the dvd player again. True, there was that nagging problem with the right-hand speaker that would go off in a sulk every now and then. But I thought we were working through that! I compromised! I waggled that bloody SCART cable and twiddled the aerial and ignored how there wasn’t a second SCART socket so I had to stand on my head and perform spaghetti-unravelling every time I wanted to watch a video! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT, EH?
I do have a confession to make. Lately, I have been thinking of, well, ‘trading up’. I’ve been looking at other televisions: sleeker, slimmer televisions, with ‘on’ buttons that work first time. I felt guilty at first, but now? When that first advance cheque comes through, mister, expect to find yourself well and truly replaced. And don’t think I’ll be pining for you, either, because my new honey is going to be widescreen. Size matters, k?
Inappropriately attached to my telly? Moi?
Naturally, this happens after I spend a weekend chained to the laptop getting the (hopefully?) final draft of the book done and dusted, and thus at the precise moment where all I want to do is loll slack-jawed in front of due South repeats. But I’m less distraught than I was when my laptop performed the same trick back in May, which was frankly so upsetting that I almost considered buying one of Siralan’s Emailer phones. (I said almost.) I am suffering from the usual ‘there’s been a power cut’ goldfish mentality: can’t watch Neighbours, bugger, ah well, Friends is probably on E4 instead…oh, hang on… But between the laptop dvd player and the likes of TV Links, I have a pretend telly of sorts. Does this make me a desk potato?
Missing Flight of the Conchords and Charlie Brooker again, though. Second week in a row. I shall be making sure not to walk underneath any grand pianos next Tuesday…
Richard Morrison’s daft scaremongering in The Times: I knew this bloke who died in his 30s, therefore universities are evil.