If television is - as one Karl Marx subverting nineties rap act whose name now escapes me claimed – the drug of the nation, then it’s possible I’m a full-blown, if functioning, addict.
You may now take last week’s protests that I never turn the telly on during the day as my version of an alcoholic in denial protesting that they never drink alone, never miss work because of it, and certainly never touch a drop during the day.
Because, guys, it’s week two and I’ve been cheating on this challenge. It started casually enough. Mr. F wanted - nay needed - to see a few sports matches for work so he dropped into the pub to watch them.
I’ve never understood sport but I do like talking shit with the old fishermen who congregate in our locals so started going along and, um, actually quite enjoying the football.
Since then, it’s only gotten worse. We still have no TV or broadband at home and even though I’m inundated with work, I’ve been popping in during the day to watch Sky News. I’ve also taken headphones along to the café where I use the wifi connection to watch 4oD online.
I think we can all agree that this is a new low. Watching videos of sleepy kittens on YouTube between completing assignments is fine. Becoming so desperate for a fix that you deliberately watch three hours worth of a show you’ve previously slandered in the comments section of xoJane is not.
Yesterday, I even tried to download something illegally. It’s only the fact that I’m deathly afraid of being arrested or – worse - having to pay a fine if I got caught that stopped me. That, and a complete lack of technical ability.
That’s not even the worst of it. Correct me if I’m wrong but Saturday night television is dire. It’s the kind of programming that’s designed to make you feel that whoever’s in charge of weekend television schedules is constantly sneering at you.
“At your age,” they’re snickering, “you should be out enjoying yourself, not stuck in front of the telly watching this shit.” Despite this, on Saturday night I convoluted to go to a friend’s house, specifically so I could watch Strictly Come Dancing because Girls Aloud were appearing live, and I can’t get iPlayer to work in Dublin.
I feel dirty even admitting it.
It wouldn’t even be that bad if this was something I just did when I’m home alone, but it’s not. I’ve now taken to suggesting that rather than watch a DVD or spend our evenings deep in conversation, Mr. F and I vacate the premises to watch yet more sport.
A sure sign of addiction, yes?
Working at home, I’m usually in by myself. Though this is something I usually find incredibly productive, it means I never get to have the kind of conversations with colleagues that can make an office job so enjoyable.
That’s why I’m often found sprinkling non-sequiturs all over the xoJane comments section like manic pixie dream girl dust.
A lack of TV and Internet at home has made me realise that far from being the Norma No-Mates loner I’ve always thought of myself as - and was characterized as by my teachers and parents throughout my school years - I actually crave human interaction quite a lot. Mostly though, I just really wanna catch up on Corrie.
What have you all been watching this week? I just found out that those rappers were called The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. The lyrics included something about “feeding ignorance and breeding radiation”. Hmm.
I’m not watching TV on Twitter @AlisandeF.