I’ve never been adventurous. I like films with stories and stories that are set now. I’m not brilliant with the past – I can handle as far back as the 1970s – and I’m only happy with the future if it’s pretty much like now, but with faster washing machines and we each have a small robot butler.
But I’ve realised that my viewing is rather limited, so I’ve decided to dip my toe in areas of telly that I wouldn’t normally go near. The genres I usually avoid are too numerous to mention. It’s easier to list the genres I like – sitcom, cooking, singing and dancing (including Glee), animals and some panel shows. The categories I’ll have a go at in the coming weeks are hospital, crime, the news, military drama and legal.
This week, much to my smiling husband’s pleasure, I asked him if we could watch something vaguely fantasy or sci-fi. I can’t tell the two apart. From what I can gather, fantasy has more boobs in it.
Having vowed to never watch Games of Thrones again, I did. Oh and I know it’s “Game” not “Games”, but I enjoy annoying nerds. One of my favourite games with my husband is to bring up my argument that the Bee Gees were as good as (and this is the killer), if not better than, the Beatles. I’ve never seen my massive Beatles fan of a husband’s eyes do the weird thing they did when I once asked why there were so many people on the cover of the Sgt Pepper album when there were only five of them in the band. The Famous Five, I said. That was a fun car journey. Nothing like winding each other up on a long drive to stop tiredness kicking in.
He said I was welcome to watch this week’s Games of Thrones with him as long as I didn’t talk. And I didn’t talk, though he did have to keep pausing it when I showed him kitten pictures off the internet. Within the first five minutes, a lady had been torn to pieces by dogs and by the end characters I’d only just learnt the names of were dead. I was genuinely impressed by the actors, though. As I said to my husband (during an ad break), “The actors are doing very well, considering everything they’re saying is gibberish.”
Next we tried Agents of SHIELD, which my fella summed up as “the police that help the superheroes”. I imagined that I was about to watch some middle-aged copper do admin. But again, it was so complicated it made me feel for the actors. “Oh no, the kleeglebinder has been sproingifiched.” I find I only understand the small words in any sentence. No one says, “What’s for tea?” or “Guess how much the parking was?” or “This shoe? Or this shoe?” I miss normal talking. During the episode that I watched, a lady alien/space person was controlling all men by talking to them and touching them. I know women like that. I had no idea they were aliens.
In order to control the lady alien, they used a Lady Thor, I think, who had armoured boobs and was pretty handy at jumping. I’m wondering why they didn’t just round up any gay men who would make short shrift of her seduction techniques and get her arrested in no time.
I’m digging fern’s show
Is it sad that I’m excited about Fern Britton’s The Big Allotment Challenge (Tuesdays, BBC2)? Do I care if it is? Nope.
The Sarah Millican Television Programme – Best of Series 1 & 2 is available on DVD at radiotimes.com/dvdshop