Mrs. Mangel

Imagine you’re watching Coronation Street.

It’s almost the end of part one, The Rovers Return is packed full in celebration of Tracy and Seth Armstrong’s marriage. Present at the bar is a drunken Mrs. Mangel, who lets slip sordid gossip about Tracy’s former lovers, one of which is nursing a lonely drink in the background. Watching events unfold with jealous rage, Tracy’s ex-lover challenges Mrs. Mangel to take back her words, but Amos Brearly intervenes and a fist-fight ensues.
Suddenly it’s the end of part one. The advertisements commence and you’re about to venture into the kitchen to make a cup of tea when something stops you in your tracks. From the television you hear a familiar voice, you look at the screen and see a person with blue hair and Pasquale-esque features, you see an on-screen caption explaining the terms and conditions to a British Gas Homecare package, you see Nigel tapping a pipe with a screwdriver whilst offering the merits of Homecare cover. You see Nigel, on an advert, on television.

This nearly happened!

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Guess who’ll be watching CBeebies* in the morning?

Without any interference (see what I did there?) from myself or Sky, my digibox is now receiving all of the available Freeview channels. I’m not quite sure how the change happened, all I know is that I’m currently watching CNN for the sake of it.

*Sarah-Jane Honeywell is very bendy.

Feed Me!

Once upon a time I used to watch lots of television. I used to schedule certain nights of the week as TV night; I’d sit in front of the television and absorb the latest sci-fi series or shark-infested documentary until my eyes bled, I’d channel-surf the hundreds of channels that cable television had to offer stopping only at stations which offered the brightest pleb-dazzling experience. Even my choice of abode was dictated by whether ntl: could run a cable up the driveway for digital television.

Nigel Skull: Couch Potato.

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