bitful

There's nothing I like on TV these days.

Apart from the fantastic Flight of the Conchords, all saved up on the PVR for a rainy day marathon, all I record now is filler TV, the kind of stuff I play back at 1.5 speed while folding laundry (i.e. Project Runway, The X Factor and Ugly Betty).

Last night I folded laundry while watching The Secret Millionaire, that I had recorded after a hammering multi-media (including Facebook status updates) promotional campaign by Chig.

I shall not go into details in case you want to download it from 4OD or catch the next repeat. Let me just say that Terry George, the millionaire, is a very decent chap.

I managed to fight back the tears throughout the programme, but when it ended the PVR switched back to BBC3 and the All New House of Tiny Tearaways. All new because Dr Tanya Byron is not running it (she has been busy writing Vivienne Vyle with Jennifer Saunders)? Or all new because the latest set of families seeking help with unruly children are teenage pram faces lounging around, fag hanging from pinched lips, effing and blinding and declaring they're bored.

I felt I was watching Big Brother, a show in which I lost interest since they started putting borderline psychos in the house.

That's when I finally cried.

This entry was posted on Friday, November 30th, 2007 at 5:12 pm and is filed under rants, tv. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.