The Post-TV Diaries (aka I Don’t See): part 3

This will be the first year I’ve not watched any Big Brother at all. Each year previously, my viewing has followed a similar pattern: resolution not to watch it at all, then grumbling, cynical half-watching, then horrified curiosity, then shouting at the TV, then sage ‘psychological insight’ and moral judgement, then finally tantrums when my favourite housemate gets evicted.

And the sense of relief this year that I won’t have to, indeed won’t be able to, put myself through the charade again is immense. That’s the devil of television: as long as it’s there we WILL end up avidly watching something we really didn’t think we wanted to have anything to do with, and justifying it to ourselves. I’m not sure what it says about me that I need to have the ‘choice’ removed from me, but I suspect it says just as much about TV itself.

We don’t need TV; TV needs us. And just like all good dependants, it knows how to get what it needs.

As Dave B advises, visit White Dot for further common sense/fascist assault on your freedom to be entertained (delete as applicable). Their UK base is just round the corner from my house, incidentally.