Nuclear

Eastenders, BBC1, Friday
The One Show, BBC1, Monday
Elephant Diaries, BBC1, Thursday
Shameless, 4OD

Despite most people seeming to think I am a hardened, cynical type when they first meet me – probably because this is usually on nights out, where I am smoking like a train and swearing like a trooper – surprise is often expressed at further meetings that I am actually a trusting, gullible soul. I just, genuinely, really, don’t think people lie to me, because, despite my many (many) faults, I don’t usually lie to them. (I said usually. OK then, size does matter and your arse does look big in that, so there.)

A few of my friends have caught on to this in recent years and now take shameless advantage, telling me they once motorbiked across Australia in the nip, or that the word "gullibility" isn’t found in the dictionary. (Shane, hang your head in shame.) I think this is very poor form, much akin to making fun of the disabled. It’s not my fault that I can’t see why people would be bothered to lie, and so I generally believe what they say. (I’ll just quickly point out before Mr Editor goes bananas that this relates to personal interaction only and not a work situation where I have to interview a nasty corporate.)

But my tendency to believe what I hear means that people in the pub can have great fun at my expense, as my standard response to their claims that they’re a brain surgeon or that they were shot in the stomach when an innocent bystander to an armed robbery is to say "Really?", either out of not wanting to call someone a dirty stinking liar (occasionally), or because my poor naïve self actually believes their lies (often).

I was reminded of this while watching Eastenders last Friday, when poor Honey was sat down by evil Ronny and told that, while everyone in the Vic absolutely loved Honey, Billy and their two kids staying in the front room, it might be a bit dangerous for Billy as maneater Roxy was head over heels in love with him.

"Really?" said an open-mouthed Honey, making me cringe and hide under the duvet in embarrassment at my own more gullible moments. "Mind you, my Billy does have that effect on women." Ah, the power of lurve…
(And that’s all that will be said on the power of lurve for quite some time, as when I nipped over to the shop on Monday morning for milk and fags they had their Valentine’s display out already. Grr.)

I was internetless for most of the first two weeks in the new house, a state of affairs I would have assessed as showing how worryingly dependent I am on the web, if I hadn’t been so busy climbing the goddamn walls. I never realised before what a goggleboxing gap there is between 7 and 8pm (end of news to Eastenders). So I found myself watching The One Show and Elephant Diaries quite a bit, as it was easier than getting up and switching the TV off after Newsline. Yes, I know this lazy streak of mine is something I need to work on. That’s a resolution for 2009, after I spend this year quitting smoking, getting fit and becoming nice.

Both shows are not bad, both are fairly inoffensive, but both don’t need to be on quite so much. The One Show just reminds me that there is still an hour to go until Eastenders, and I now get a sinking feeling in my tum when the theme music starts, knowing it signals the start of an hour of fidgetiness waiting for the good stuff to start.

And Elephant Diaries. Again, not bad, but for the love of the gogglebox gods, who decided we needed a whole week’s worth of this stuff? We’re only saved on Tuesdays and Thursdays, when Eastenders is on at 730 instead of 8. I thought I’d seen the end of it last Friday, only to be tortured with it again on Monday. Enough with the elephants, BBC.

In other news, I am settling into the new house quite well, rattling around the 5 bedroomer like a loose pea on the one hand, and not having to put up with crappy techno music leaking under my door at 2am on the other. Five quid on a taxi to Lavery’s versus being just down the road from work and so able to stay in bed until 835. Swings and roundabouts.

I was shocked to discover that after all I don’t have cable, though this didn’t matter when I finally managed to hook up the internet and fix the bug that was plaguing my laptop’s access to 4OD. So I finally watched Shameless for the first time, spurred on by the new series 5 currently showing on Channel 4.

I know, I know – as a hotshot TV writer I should have seen Shameless years ago. I haven’t seen The Sopranos, 24 or The West Wing either, although in my defence I did used to work nights, so didn’t want to get into something and then miss it the week after. Ah, the days before internet catch up. What did we do with ourselves?

Anyhoo, Shameless was brilliant, and is one of the best things I have seen on the gogglebox, like, ever (I also got watching the first ever episode of Brookside, and the one where Beth and Margaret snog. Hee hee!). I now have all four series to catch up on, as well as watch all three series of one of the best wimmin’s programmes on ever, No Angels. And they’re now all free, compared to before Christmas when it was 99p a bally download.

The perfect thing to get over the dratted January blues. See you in March.