KEY POINTS:
I've had, pretty much, a five-week holiday from the telly. Instead, I've been having a holiday which, I thought, was like having the sort of holiday children have. What I really mean is that it was the sort of holiday children used to have and involved reading, playing
Scrabble, and mucking about in the garden with the hose (the grown-up version which also involves weeding).
Of course, children don't have holidays like that anymore.
Living in the suburbs you notice these things. You notice that kids who don't go away on hols sit in their lounges watching the telly instead, usually loud music videos - and their parents not only let them do this, they do it with them.
I think there should be a law against it, not because I care that they are stupid and going deaf but because other people live in the neighbourhood too - and we don't want to have to listen to their crap music videos.
All of which is a rather long preamble - five weeks at home living in close proximity to morons is a rather long time - to a telly show I stumbled across on the rare night I did turn the monster in the corner on.
This show was one of those idiotic reality shows called Never Did Me Any Harm about a woman who took her family back to the living conditions of her working class 1970s childhood. Which meant limited telly, and no telly in the kid's rooms, and no computer games or MP3 players. It also meant no microwaves or automatic washing machines which was plain daft, but the other bit of the experiment was actually rather interesting.
The mother had been in despair about her kids' lack of ability to have any meaningful interaction with the other members of the family. Her oldest boy, in his teens, who had no social skills, wept when told he couldn't play his computer games.
By the end of a few weeks, which involved the kids having to do chores, the family was in much better shape. They talked, and the kids learned how to play together.
At the risk of sounding like my old mate Garth "Bring Back the Birch" George, instead of the Government making stupid kids stay at school until they're 38, can't they just take their tellys away?
They can take mine too, if it means I won't have to watch Bring Your Husband To Heel again.
This was so ridiculous I watched it with growing, appalled, amazement. Annie Clayton is a dog trainer who has branched put into teaching women how to train their wayward husbands.
"Men and dogs," intoned the voice-over in a jolly hockey sticks sort of way, "both lovable, but have you ever noticed how alike they are?"
Mine didn't have a tail the last time I looked and I can't get him to pick up the newspaper from the letterbox in his teeth. So, no, I hadn't noticed.
"They can both be mucky pups, mischievous mutts ... maybe its time to teach your old dog new tricks!"
Annie does this by teaching the wife to train a dog then to go home to hubby and try the tricks minus the dog whistle but including the treats. This way you can get a bloke to, say shut cupboard doors and make the bed.
I gave my bloke a dog biscuit for making the bed, but he bit me.
I reckon this programme's a crock. But if Annie had any tips for training stupid people out of letting their kids sit inside all day watching crap, loud telly, I might say "good girl!" and give her a nice bit of dog roll as a reward.
