Subtitles at Midnight

At what point did television execs sit down and decide that people wanted to hear about pension deficits and government party manifestos on a Sunday morning at 8:30? As a child, Sunday had the capacity to be the very best or the very worst of days for me. There is so much around that could put an instant dampener on a Sunday for a child. The long months of grey skies and cold winter rain meant you were more than likely locked indoors over weekends and then you were faced with political and religious programming liberally scattered across the then 4 television channels. Neither the kind of thing that any normal child would look forward to.

As a choice it was Thatcher or Archbishop of Canterbury who forever seemed to be presiding over some ridiculously boring Harvest Festival which owed less to religious observance and more to do with your mum and dad getting rid of the old unwanted tinned food that had sat in the cupboard since the last time you were told by your primary school teacher to pester them for their handouts. Sunday have always been a shitty day for me.

Next week: Why are signed programmes for deaf people only on at 2am in the morning? Are deaf people really all vampiric in nature? Does that explain why they sound so daft when they try to speak?