Every Tuesday, apart from national holiday times, the Radio Times thunders onto our doormat in its plastic bag - the latter also containing a great number of unsolicited and unwanted leaflets all of which have to go in the recycling box, the emptying of which we have to pay for via our Council Tax.
Every Tuesday we leaf through the Radio Times browsing through the programmes on offer from the BBC plus a myriad of other unknown and seemingly trashy stations ? channels ? or whatever the word is these days. How many stations repeating repeats can you have ?
Every Tuesday, and at intervals throughout the week, my blood pressure is raised to the possible detriment of my health and well being by embarrassing and naive programme summaries which seem to have been written by people who have received a poor general education. My father was a cigarette smoker all his life - he died of a coronary thrombosis, sudden and fatal - but at least he provided a ready supply of cigarette cards throughout my childhood which, alongside Arthur Mee's Children's Encyclopaedia (dating from the first decade of the 20th century) meant that I was usually insufferably high up on the results list when we had general a knowledge test at school. Do they still have these I wonder ? General knowledge now seems to be about "who played bass guitar in the Sewage Rats" or similar.
But the one that really gets me, really, really gets me, is the one that announces that Aloysius Airhead is going to somewhere to discover" what everyone knows "somewhere" is famous for. TV "personalities "discover" that Bath has Roman baths, that the Clyde used to build ships, that Caernarvon has a castle, the list is endless and grows in most weeks. However, sometimes we snigger, because the programme makers are beginning to run out of "discoveries" so that what Aloyisius Airhead "discovered" last month is now to be rediscovered by Brenda Braindead all over again.
Wasn't like this when we had our old 14" Matsui from Dixons. When it had to go out, all those lovely old TV programmes inside it went too. The Two Ronnies, Eric and Ernie, buried in some land fill site somewhere waiting for future archaeologists to dig them up and resuscitate them. Sad.
It's digital what done it.