OD on TV OD.

Since when was the sole purpose of writing to flatter the writer in his own estimation? A few weeks ago Samleck Durkmire in the Guardian’s Guide ‘TV OD’ column acerbically deconstructed a program that acerbically deconstructed a group of people gathered together to comment acerbically on the general public. I picture a queue of people each chewing on the turds of the one in front. It seems few of the Guardian’s crew of unpaid interns have the flare of the columns creator. I’m only being obtuse because I’ve forgotten his name. There was always some point to his ballet of images constructed from razor blades. And this week Trevor Twink turned his dull gaze on some food program. It appears we love watching programs about things we ignore in real life. Cash in the Attic, what’s in yours? Cooking, mine’s a Tesco’s cottage pie. Moving house, what! That’s the most stessful thing you can do without actually dieing. So with TV budgets only achievable by unpaid celebs glad of the exposure, intern directors, a dog on camera and the public for the price of a release form we have programs that aren’t worthy of commenting on let alone watching. This is of course a good thing, but it doesn’t absolve Trevor Twink of his duty to entertain more than his personal pronoun. But such is my love for Charlie Brooker’s, there I remembered it, wonderful images I turn to his page like Pavlovs dog each week hoping they’ve found another quality writer. Not yet.