The familiar rattle of the letterbox got me running this morning. What bills, for I presume they are bills, have been dropped in to induce mild panic now? Some crap about joining gyms and the like as ever but what’s this? An An Post marked envelope? I am intrigued. I open it slowly so as to increase the tension...and there it is. The greatest practical joke played by any national institution and fuck me, doesn’t it have competition. In my hands was a missal informing me that ‘Mr. Television Licence Inspector’ shall be targeting unlicensed households in my area. The Gene Hunt that does RTE’s bidding will soon sweep into my street in an Audi Quattro, shooting from the hip. “We’ve heard all the excuses and none of them work, for you are surrounded by armed bastards”. Have you really Mr. Inspector Man, have you really? While we’re at it have you actually watched or listened to RTE’s output of late? Because, if you did kind sir, you’d be taking the 74A back out of here with your tail between your legs.
Let me be your guide through what television is being offered up today Friday the 5th November on the flagship station RTE1 yet paid for by the you’s and I’s of this world. We’ll start at lunch time because the dross on offer mid-morning is just not worth commenting on and is even worse than TV3’s and that is saying something.
1.00:RTE News: Laugh-a-minute stuff from the good folk at Montrose informing us through relentless state-sponsored propaganda that the nation is indeed fucked and seeing as we’re fucked anyway, they’re going to talk us further down the drain as a result putting everyone into a state of mute hysteria . Sure don’t we have the GAA to lighten our pathetic lives? That’ll brighten things up.
1.25: Home And Away: “Relationship, relationship...let’s go live in a caravan. We’ll take strangers in and hang around a coffee shop discussing feelings and relationships and maybe go to the beach, you fucking drongo”
1.55: Neighbours: Someone has a row with someone else, Toadie gets fucked over by some girl or other, Paul Robinson forgets to limp, and someone leaves in a taxi with all their neighbours out to wave them off.
2.20: Eastenders: A load of cockneys shouting at each other followed by a dramatic drumbeat.
3.00: Fair City: A load of country-folk with bad Dublin accents shouting badly at each other non-dramatically cutting to a badly ripped-off version of an already badly written Eastenders theme tune.
3.30: How Clean Is Your House?: None of your fucking concern.
4.00: Four Live: Imaginative yet inaccurate title. It’s not live as we know it. A TD’s wife is bound to discuss cutting-edge matters such as ‘Does your dog have piles?’ with an obviously uninterested vet who’s just in it for the fee and maybe that he might get recognized on Bray Main Street on Saturday.
4.50. The Daily Show: Losing the will to live? Call Daithi O’Se and the other one who’ll do their best to pep you up somewhat by falling all over the autocue.
5.40. Nuacht: Twenty minutes of programming so some fucker in Galway who’s spent his day sitting on a stone wall and picking spuds can cling on to the past.
6.00. RTE News: Still feeling fucked? Let’s lash on a bit more misery followed by a report from the Roscommon Minor training camp. Who the fuck are Shamrock Rovers anyway?
7.00. Nationwide: The jewel in the crown. More from Roscommon Minor’s training camp ahead of the Connacht final and an insight into drug-dealing in Blanchardstown with Mary Kennedy.
7.30. Come West Along The Road(3/13): With fiddle player Denis McMahon and friends, no less. THIRTEEN episodes of a load of blokes sitting around in a pub with their eyes closed producing sounds that remind one of a cat being fucked onto the hot coals of a sauna.
8.00. Eastenders: If you couldn’t get home on your lunch to get your fix of this Cockney misery fest, fear not. Ian Beale ponces about as if he’s Alan fucking Sugar despite only owning a chipper and a snooker hall. Dot smokes a bit. Another fucking row. A pub goes on fire. But the good folk of Walford are no doubt setting themselves up for another Christmas Day wedding with the reception in the Queen Vic which will invariably go wrong with ‘tragic’ consequences.
8.30. The Reluctant Taoiseach: Comedy.
9.00 .RTE News: Still feeling fucked? Let’s lash on a bit more misery followed by a report from the Roscommon Minor training camp. Who the fuck are Shamrock Rovers anyway?
9.35. The Late Late Show: Ok, thank you, roll it there Colette, postal quiz, thousands of entries....oh fuck... it’s Tubridy. Switch it Off.
“We’ve heard all the excuses and none of them work”. See you in court so.... because I ain’t paying a single cent for that excuse for televisual programming. Put on a real-life documentary following that DJ who was caught wanking on a plane as he attempts to rebuild his life on the streets of Cork City and maybe, just maybe I’ll give your Call-Centre a bell. For that would make one fantastic television programme.
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