Like me, you probably watch far too much television in the dark winter months. Life was a whole lot simpler when we had the Test Card, three channels, a snooker cue for a remote control and the disappearing black spot at the end of the night’s viewing saying “get to bed there is nothing else on!” However, it’s cold outside; the pub will be empty, and there are only so many times you can go to the gym.
Television seems immune to these recessionary times. It’s a little known fact that there are more people employed in the media than in UK manufacturing. Quite clearly, that’s not good for the Coalition’s plan for a manufacturing-led recovery. Perhaps one of the most disturbing results of this media explosion has been the advent of the specialist television presenter, presiding over a plethora of property, cookery or jumble sale programmes. They are never off the screens; it seems the only qualification required is the ability to memorise last week’s script, because, one week on, it really is the same programme.
Next Year We Will All Be Millionaires
Property is an easy option for TV producers. Brits are obsessed with it like no other nation. Channel 4 has a raft of programmes to satisfy our lust for all things bricks and mortar and to inject drama the presenters regularly confess how “really, really worried” they are that this week’s programme will not end with a happy ending. Nevertheless, we all need a happy ending and miraculously we always get one; the presenter leaves the subjects looking deliriously happy, whatever the cost. I cannot help but suspect that behind the brand new door sits a penniless couple wondering how soon they will have to sell up.
Consider Location, Location, Location, first aired in 2000. It could well be called London, London, London as it seldom shifts beyond the M25. The “stars” are Phil and Kirsty, a sort of middle aged couple happy to spend their remaining days gently bickering at each other.
In 2007, the format altered. Now two couples with different tastes look for a house in the same city. Yippee! Consequently, each episode was extended from 30 to 60. I love it when Phil stays behind in a room for a quiet intimate moment with the viewer, just to offer a snippet on how the day is going leading us gently to another commercial break. Of course after the break they have to tell us the “entire” plot, again, just in case any goldfish are watching.
The Legend of Sarah Beeny
Sarah Beeny is another 4 regular. Her original series, Property Ladder, was notable for every episode having at least one moment where, she would also confess to the nation how “really worried” she was that all was not going well. She seemed to worry and get pregnant in equal measure. That’s multi-tasking for you.
In 2011 we were treated to Sarah’s own restoration project, her family home, an ancient pile called Rise Hall near Hull. Every week, despite having no money, a houseful of kids and constant battles with the “not-on-our-manor” local planners, Sarah triumphed. Same script, same traumas, same inevitable success story. Small wonder everybody thinks they can be a property developer.
Then there is Gorgeous George Clark, architect presenter of Restoration Man. Admittedly his subject matter is a lot more interesting; parts of the country’s heritage are brought back to life, but the programme is really about George. Clad weekly in black shirt, blue jeans, teeth glistening and so gravely concerned you could be forgiven for thinking he was about to carry out heart surgery; usually, he is wondering whether to use grey slate or blue. If Hollywood ever picks up the film rights, his namesake Mr Clooney should audition; his years in ER would give him the edge.
Let’s Go To The Auction
Channel 4 is not alone and, in terms of the genre, it probably does it better than the opposition. However, there are notable gems elsewhere and I heartily recommend the Beeb’s Homes Under the Hammer fronted by Martin Roberts and Lucy Alexander. They follow house hunters who have bought at auctions; Martin’s rallying cry of “let’s go to the auction” often gets me cheering from my sofa: “go on son!”
Before the work starts they invite a couple of local estate agents to offer their “expert” advice. We can take comfort that valuations are, indeed, done on the back of a fag packet. Set to panto music they roll up with their shiny suits, bad shoes and the air of pure desperation to be on television. On completion they revisit and we see them peering nervously around doors looking as if they expect to see a ghost rather than more magnolia. Even without commercial breaks the BBC is no slouch in padding out the hour; recaps of the story to date are a regular feature.
Beauty and the Beast
Finally, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, consider Cowboy Builders. Formerly a daytime BBC show, it now has a prime time slot on Channel 5. If you haven’t seen it, the clue is in the title. Bad boy builders have taken pitiful but often dim victims to the cleaners. Eventually they get their homes remodelled and the presenters (more of them in a moment) claim justice will be done. You know it won’t. The cowboys will be saddled up as soon as the cameras leave town.
Formerly presented by a big bloke called Clive; we now have Beauty and the Beast, aka the diminutive Dominic Littlewood and former Page 3 girl Melinda Messenger. How can they fail?
Melinda’s job is to manage the budget for the renovation which always goes belly up. Never mind, she has other talents and can ham it up on camera imploring local tradesmen for freebies. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Dom whips himself into a fury as he tries to track down those naughty cowboys. Note the furrowed brow; the scrunched up eyebrows; the clenched fists; will he ever capture them and ride them back into town? Eventually, Dom gets to stick a microphone up their noses and seems to expect some sign of remorse as they eventually scamper off, never to be seen again … at least till Channel 5 leave town.
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