I love TV. This is no secret. I am unashamed of watching Most Haunted, America's Next Top Model and every possible cooking show. Apart from Jamie Oliver's obviously. Fat tongued fool makes shudder. All that phlegm in the food. Yuch.
I know a fair few who deny watching any TV at all: 'I'm just, like, too busy actually living life, yeah?' I have news for you hipster dudes. Watching endless boxsets or downloads of HBO shows COUNTS AS WATCHING TV. Just saying.
I love TV so much that I have it on every day when I'm working (still from my sofa, today in pyjamas)... oh hang on, do excuse me. Fatman is puking his little cat guts up all over the place. Cats being sick are painful to watch. They look like they're turning their bodies inside out with the effort... one sec... Christ, I had to 'remove the solid matter' before cleaning the area. I am now fighting my gag reflex. But I digress.
So yeah, TV is my friend. Which is why I found myself watching a man crying over macaroons at 2am. I got in from work after a tough shift during which I almost projectile vomited on various patrons' food due to being a tad under the weather. And all I wanted to do was watch The Great British Bake Off.
Which pretty much represents all the elements of my favourite TV: Sue Perkins, cooking under arbitrary time pressures, people falling apart over the quality of their macaroons like it's life or death... it's genius.
Last night a guy who'd presented some really shit looking macaroons in an 'artistic' manner visibly crumbled when the judge said they were badly presented. It was his 'thing'. You could see his entire sense of self worth melting. That's drama. THAT'S good TV. Outside during his interview after being booted off the show, he was holding back the tears like a good 'un. Mumbling about how proud everyone is of him and manfully smiling through the pain. IT WAS MACAROONS dude. Get a grip. No one even EATS macaroons anymore.
Anyway, I have to go now. Most Haunted is on.