Christmas Present (or Nearly)

Nostalgia is probably the way a healthy mind rewrites the often difficult past with a positive tilt. The prism of  affection allows us to excuse mistakes, justify decisions and highlight enjoyments. The past is rationalised and settled.

So it was with Christmas telly 2022. I cheerfully dismissed the usual outrage at ancient repeated films, nodding my head resignedly at the seasonal parade of Spartacus, Sinbad, 1970's war films and three versions of Christmas Carol. I laughed at the deserted news studios running loop tapes of pre-recorded programmes, and blinked away the ritual tear at a melting snowman. Instead, I threw off the habits of a lifetime and embarked on a dangerous adventure.

I sat down and watched some of the most popular programmes available.

I watched SpongeBob Square Pants (if I remember the name correctly), then Dr. Pimple Popper (concerning a man with huge scrotum), followed by The Bad Skin Clinic (man with bulbous purple nose), a documentary about clinically obese sisters, a visit to a remand prison, forensic reviews of old mass murders, and a manic quizz programme in which desperate celebrities appeared to transform themselves into small children on a bouncy castle.

Shell shocked and drained, I put on the kettle....

 And Ben Hur.