The Post-TV Diaries: part 4

During the English summer, there should be absolutely no need to watch TV. All our traditional activities such as attending car boot sales, playing amateur versions of cricket in turdy parks, erecting gazebos, and getting drunk and red on the beach come into their own. As for summer sporting fixtures: who needs to OWN a TV when you can go to the pub to watch them, and build beautiful new friendships with sweaty accountants and inebriated teenagers into the bargain?

Of course, a less traditional but equally popular summer activity is now watching OTHER people getting drunk and red, on Big Brother. And I have to confess, dear diary, that I deliberately started, and maintained, a Big Brother conversation yesterday. While on the beach. In my defence, I was talking to my dad, and we didn’t have anything else to talk about. And the only information I gleaned was that he strongly disapproves of someone called Kitten, so my BB5 innocence is still almost intact.