Yes, I am fully aware that my job is a joke.
Last Friday, I woke up with a head cold that is likely to lead to my demise. Like any sensible person, I drafted a quick copy of my will and highlighted a general outline of my desired funeral arrangements.
For the record, I would like everyone to wear flesh-coloured clothes so I’m not the only one that looks deathly pale. I want a choir of schoolchildren to sing Highway To Hell, but choke up with tears unable to finish the final verse. I’d like the attendees to throw caramel Freddo bars on my coffin as it’s lowered into the ground, while a spokesperson for Cadbury’s reads out a formal apology for charging an extortionate 30p per Freddo.
After this, I realised that although my body had given up, my brain remained in impeccable condition. I couldn’t justify taking a day off work, so I decided that if this was to be my last day on earth, I may as well document it for the internet. Martyr? Your word, not mine.
My plan is simple. I’m going to watch telly all day and report my cocktail of cold and flu medication induced findings. Although legally unfit to operate heavy machinery at present, I can thankfully still note my every fleeting thought while watching and judging those willing to appear on daytime television. Here are my findings.
Homes Under The Hammer, BBC1
Initial observation: The name is dumb. A hammer would do very little in the way of renovating a house.
First, we go to a three-bed semi-detached house in Carlisle. Based on the opening shots, there appears to be very little panic on the streets, despite what The Smiths led us to believe. The house went for £51,000, won in the auction by some guy that’s been on the show renovating a house before and he’s going to do most of the work himself. My Mum would call him a cowboy. He knows what he’s doing and wants to get the house finished in 5 months before his sheep at home start to lamb. Presumably, he will sell them the house for a competitive yet fair price. The house itself is old, gross and for some reason, the presenter is obsessed with the bathroom. The guy fixing up the house brought his dog with him and he is a 10/10 pupper.
Next, we’re shown a 5th floor flat in a gated community in Manchester. It’s in good condition and I have decided that they are wasting everyone’s time here. The property developer who bought it after the auction spent £ like it ain’t no thang. He left early before it was auctioned, probably had to rush off to his job as a Chuckle Brother tribute act. (He looked like a Chuckle Brother). All he’s planning on doing is furnishing the place for £3k and thinks it’ll take 4-6 weeks. The presenter jokes that it’ll only take a weekend. Haha, property banter.
Three months later, we go back to Carlisle and the presenter goes looking for the new toilet straight away. It’s 100% a fetish at this point. From the outside, the house is still a shit hole. Inside, it looks better and seems to be pretty much finished. His sheep still haven’t given birth so that’s good to know. He’s on budget and his hair is longer now. He’s got a distant stare, longing for a simpler time when a bathroom-obsessed presenter wasn’t grilling him about his life choices. Smart looking men in suits say the house is now worth £90k.
The guy reveals that he’s renovated 11 properties in 2 years, confirming my previous suspicions that he is indeed a cowboy. Abruptly, my mind is cast back to reading an article recently that said millennials could buy a house if they stopped buying lattes. Utter bullshit. I rarely buy coffee and still can’t afford a caramel Freddo.
We go back to the flat in Manchester to waste our time again. It looks exactly the same but with curtains and a few lampshades added. “I painted the bathroom walls with a special bathroom paint”, is an actual thing that was said. I will never forgive this man for wasting my time. Not for as long as I live. He planned on spending £3,000 doing it up, but the cheapskate only spent £950. Another cowboy.
I thought about making a meme with Armie Hammer hovering over some houses beneath him, but I didn’t want to give this terrible programme another moment of my time.
Update: I did it and I’m sorry.
This Morning, ITV
After Homes Under The Hammer, I flicked over to ITV. I was disappointed to be met with Eamonn Holmes and his wife who are, let’s face it, a poor man’s Richard and Judy. Where the fuck are Holly and Phillip, I wondered with a severity that shocked me. Probably busy being squad goals or something.
Eamonn and Ruth have awkward parent banter, as if they’re only humouring each other because there are visitors in the house. They tease an upcoming segment about sausages and Eamonn says “Ruth, you are deadly serious about sausages”, to which Ruth replies, “I like quite a stubby sausage”; which is something I could have gone 1,000 years without ever needing to know.
A lesbian couple were on talking about taking turns to breastfeed their new baby. The woman who didn’t give birth was able to breastfeed which was something I didn’t know was possible, so at least I’ve learned that today. A doctor was on hand to explain the science behind it all, which was kind of boring.
The couple were Australian so joined the conversation via video link. There was a small delay which was kind of funny and reminded me of the SNL ‘Satellite Delay’ sketch. All the talk about breastfeeding also meant I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘Bitty’ sketch from Little Britain.
I got lost in a hole of SNL videos at this point, which meant it was time to put away the laptop and change the channel.
Live Athletics: European Indoor Championships, BBC2
I was oddly transfixed by the 3000m race. The girls were running for ages and it almost inspired me to set a goal of competing in the 2020 Olympic Games. Shortly after, reality set in and I remembered that I don’t really like exercise nor is that a remotely feasible goal.
One of the girls competing didn’t have her hair tied up and that really bothered me. It was bobbing up and down and I caught myself saying ‘idiot’ quietly, as I sat on the couch in my pyjamas on a workday, periodically letting out a weak little groan due to the stuffiness of my nose. Who’s the real idiot here?
There was some hurdling and high jumping going on also, but I was distracted by the fact that these events were being held in Belgrade. It’s a funny name, kind of sounds like it’s part of a music exam. Piano grade: A, violin grade: B, Belgrade: capital of Serbia.
Let’s see what else is on.
Bargain Hunt, BBC1
Ey up! There’s an antiques fair at Wetherby Racecourse. The red team is made up of two guys that are musician friends. The blues are two gal pals that used to work together, one of whom labels herself as a ‘visual merchandiser’, which transpires to simply be a shop window dresser. Immediately, I have taken against her.
Approximately 8 minutes in, I realise that all the stuff for sale at this fair is just shit from someone’s attic. The girls find two ornamental dogs they like. Their expert advisor calls them ‘tat’ and he’s livid because they spent £20 on them. Then they pick up a big ‘trunk’, or as I’d call it, a fancy box. It becomes apparent that they’re people who shouldn’t have been let loose in an open field, let alone an antiques fair.
The lads spy a lamp made out of an old camera they fancy for £48. They also nabbed some weird log thing and an ugly dresser table. Their advisor is really happy with them because they’re normal guys and don’t bullshit about their employment.
The gals go to the SAME lamp stall where the boys were earlier (what are the chances?) and buy one for £135 that’s made out of a hoover, so they’re absolutely not going to make the money back there. Let it never be said that daytime television is anything other than nail biting. After buying it, the more annoying of the two says “We’ve definitely won” and I sighed deeper than I ever knew my soft and shitty body could tolerate.
They go to auction and the tension is palpable. The lads lost £32 on the lamp, broke even on the log thing and also the ugly dresser table. The gals’ doubled their money on the dumb dog ornaments, made £15 profit on the stupid box and lost £59 on the hoover lamp (shocker).
God the show was so boring I wouldn’t wish an episode of Bargain Hunt on my worst enemy.
Countdown, Channel 4
Mostly due to chronic boredom, I decided I would participate in Countdown to see if I could win against the contestants. My opponents were Amraj and Karl, neither of whom phased me upon first impression.
The first round was tough, I got a solid 5 letter word, but the winner got 6. I got another 5 in the second round and decided that maybe Countdown wasn’t quite my thing. I have other strengths, like knowing when the microwave is going to ping without even looking at the timer.
I sat out the maths round because I’m not an absolute nerd.
The tea time teaser was ‘FREETORIP’, which I couldn’t solve because, again, I’m not an absolute nerd. The answer was ‘profiteer’, a word I’ve literally never heard of, thus proving once more that Countdown is for nerds.
I decided to do the next maths round and I absolutely nailed it. It was one of the easier combinations, obviously, but Amraj didn’t even get it. Idiot.
My luck continued. The second tea time teaser was ‘SOOTHEPAT’ and the clue was ‘Pat needed soothing, so she went here’ AND I GOT IT!! Osteopath. Bow before me, I am your all powerful and knowledgeable leader. I went looking for an application form to enter Countdown at this point, but the form was really long so I didn’t bother.
I became transfixed with the board. In the past few weeks, there’s been several instances where the letter selections unintentionally spelled rude words. I wanted to get a screenshot of the hat-trick first and secure the highly coveted 1k retweeted tweet. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. When the letters ‘UOGRE’ emerged, I did what I could:
Really hope Shrek was watching Countdown today pic.twitter.com/gqe0XSz3qM
— Ciara Knight (@Ciara_Knight) March 3, 2017
One thing I learned is that I’m much better at predicting whether the contestants would choose a consonant or vowel each time, as opposed to getting a high-scoring word, i.e. the whole point of the game. Whatever, I have other strengths.
A Place In The Sun, Channel 4
Bev has MS and wants to find a house in Cyprus. She was a nice lady and if I had to watch anyone with a budget of £90,000 buy a holiday home, I’d choose her every time.
It’s been pissing rain all day, so to see people squinting in the sun made me feel physically sick. But I’m not a begrudger, so I calmed myself.
Within minutes, I adopted a very rich persona and decided that I too was purchasing a second home. The first property had a pool that you had to share with 15 other apartments, which, being the snob that I am, made me recoil in horror. I am a multi-millionaire, I am not co-swimming with these peasants.
Bev brought her friend along to help pick out a house. Her friend was ten times the person I am because I would’ve been seething if my pal was able to buy a holiday home and they dragged me along to watch the entire process unfold.
I’m blaming this on the cold and flu medicine and that fact that I had recently read a series of conspiracy theories about Madeleine McCann, but I couldn’t help myself from evaluating every property in terms of kidnapability. If there was no mention of security measures, I immediately dismissed each place.
They visited a dog rescue facility which really redeemed the show for me. My mind was beginning to wander into dangerous territory, so it was a welcome distraction. The dogs were a joy to behold. Again, for the second time, 10/10 puppers have saved the day.
In the end, Bev didn’t pick any of the 5 properties that she visited. In summary: I wasted an hour of my life watching two women go window shopping for houses in the sun.
Overall, the show made me feel sad. Not only will I probably never be able to buy a house, but I will 100% never be able to buy a holiday home either. Also, it was way too long. Watching people not buying a house doesn’t require a full hour. In fact, considering they never actually bought a house, maybe they could’ve scrapped the episode altogether and not wasted my valuable and precious sick day time.
Come Dine With Me, Channel 4
Finally, a show that I was actually looking forward to seeing.
An entertainer (we’ll see), a rowdy businesswoman, a front of house manager and an estate agent/socialite walked into a bar, because it was set so low for Come Dine With Me contestants.
The entertainer was up first. He cooked Canarian chicken with sauce, some kind of soufflé for starter and a chocolate sponge with cream for dessert. I’d like to take a hard pass, please.
The estate agent/socialite complimented both the ladies’ eyes within minutes of meeting them, at which point my nose shrivelled up, bringing my face into a grimace I’m not sure I’ve ever pulled before. The group sleaze had very quickly identified himself.
I’ve never understood the part on Come Dine With Me when they go snooping through the house. It achieves so little and wastes valuable cooking disaster airtime. Plus, they never find anything deeply incriminating, it’s usually just a pair of fluffy handcuffs.
Next, the rowdy businesswoman cooked goats’ cheese and bacon, tuna and (store bought!!) meringues with raspberries and cream. Slightly nicer than the previous menu but still deeply vile. The estate agent/socialite swooped in on the host’s plate and robbed a mouthful of cheese, which was met with a stern telling off from the other diners. I didn’t understand the fuss. Also, that plane is still missing.
Front of house gal did lasagne for the main, which made me hungry, tiramisu for dessert, which made me hungry and deep-fried mozzarella for the starter, which made me hungry. The others were mean about her menu, but they can piss off because that’s some 10/10 grub. The creepy estate agent/socialite said ‘First time we’ve seen those beauties’, when she emerged in a short dress, cementing his place as the sleaze of the year.
Creepy estate agent/socialite dude cooked tapas, spicy chicken and some kind of custard with fruit. In fairness, he went to the most effort out of the four of them, but he’s still a massive creep.
The entertainer won overall and he deserved it because he was a nice guy. The gal who cooked lasagne fell victim of tactical voting, where everyone purposely voted the others quite low so they’d have a better chance of winning.
In summary, the corrupt voting system on Come Dine With Me is responsible for Brexit and many other societal problems facing Great Britain today.
Conclusion:
I’m thrilled that I somehow managed to spend a wonderful seven hours watching television as part of my job. There were highs (literally) and quite a few lows, but I’m a better person for it. Not to exaggerate my learnings, but I’m pretty sure I could now renovate a house on time and under budget, be the reigning Countdown champion for quite some time as long as they get rid of the numbers round, find Bev a suitable Place In The Sun without wasting her time again and I’m also 100% confident that I could vote tactically to secure a win on Come Dine With Me. Thank you, daytime TV, for helping me to learn how to love myself again.
