Eye on the Box Round II - This Time It's (More) Personal

I’m back! Since my last Eye on the Box columns I’ve been marvelling at the crapness of Australian TV, been forced to watch Two and a Half Men, saw Julian reach unimagined levels of fawning and campness when he met the Queen, and traded my Big Brother hatred for X Factor loathing. (I hate both with an equal unhealthy passion, but at least we’ve seen an end to Big Brother. Now if only they would say the same for the bloody X Factor.)

And Eastenders. Oh dear Og where to start. My mind tries to explode when I think about more than just the past few months on Eastenders, when we had wild-haired Denise being kept captive RIGHT NEXT DOOR to her house, the departure of Chelsea (yay), the return of Kat (yay again), and the descent into hell of poor old Stacey. Honestly, scriptwriters, give the poor girl a break. In the past year you’ve had her raped by Archie, murder Archie (yay the third), be diagnosed as bipolar, still have to put up with her mad and maddening mum, and lose her husband of only a few hours when he fell off the roof  in a ginger and horrible jumpered flash trying to escape from the fuzz.  (And on that note, you can judge me with your eyes if you want, but when that happened and the daft Trekkie plummeted to the ground I actually GOL’d [gasped out loud]. And that, I think, should be the benchmark for Good TV.)

But this is mostly about bad TV, which is much more fun to write about even if it does frequently induce in me a level of rage similar to the average Lib Dem voter when Nick Clegg sold them all out. And just after I typed that I flicked through the channels to find some godawful trash on ITV2 called The Only Way is Essex, in which dim English millbags in leopard skin bras encasing football shaped tits are fluttering their eyelashes at preppy horse-faced businessmen. I’m hoping it’s a satire. Back soon.