I’ll put my hands up and admit I haven’t watched an episode of Breaking Bad yet. But, just like with Buffy, I like to stay modern and give it a go ten years down the line. From what I’ve heard though, it involves a regular Dad who shaves his head with electric shavers for men, makes homemade crystal meth to sell at dodgy car boot sales, with murder and gangster crime that infiltrates a happy home. It had an orgy of awards, and features the Dad from Malcolm In The Middle – what more could you ask for?
I was obsessed with Gogglebox. Mainly because I imagined myself being a perfect candidate for it. Lying on the floor with a delicate mountain of chicken dippers, ripping apart Tess Daly, and looking perplexed at adverts that made no sense. This show turned the tables on TV, celebrating and subtly mocking the viewers on their sofas. You have bitchy gays, posh families with a Taste The Difference cabinet of wine, naive mums who see something serious in The X Factor, and a crazy lady from Brixton who has a rampaged impression on EVERYTHING. Just feed her Pringles and she’ll calm down.
The Big Reunion
I live around the corner from Antony Costa from Blue. That means I have a biased view of this show, as we’re practically family. But the show continues to grip, unraveling the D-list life of celebrity, but also hinting at commendable signs of determination and the resilience to a neglectful industry. Liberty X won’t back down with their dominatrix sticks and Atomic Kitten are tripping out as emancipated tigers. Don’t diss though, as we all whack on B*witched at a house party, and we’d all like to be at the O2 seeing them live. Television that is both nostalgic – and the future!
Inbetweeners never did it for me. But Drifters is the antidote. Goofy girls we can all relate to, where they’re faced with that purgatory aftermath from education. Succumbing to jobs as a blow-up mobile phone along the High Street with flyers, like a technology prostitute of sorts. Then there’s the daily mishaps that you text your friend about, including dates that you made up in your head, and being sick in a bin while the man of your dreams looks on from the nearby bus. This show restores your faith that we’re not alone in this struggle.
Bluddy love a bouncer. A skin’ed bloke with a heart, pretending he’s served time, but secretly just loves serving his wife sticky toffee pudding for the Corrie omnibus. This show uncovered their ins and outs, showing the soppy side, and unfortunately for us, showing how embarrassing we are as a drink-craving nation. Expect girls in underwear as an intentional evening look, boys who like Bacardi Breezers, and the odd drunk Mum who thinks she’s all that still at the local O’Neill’s.
The iconic rebellion-and-real show about turbulent teenage life. We grew up associating with their illegal, explicit and emotional doings, but this show concluded with an uncharacteristic method – giving each signature character a future scenario, a lot of which were highly unexpected. Dark, mature, sinister, but with the skin of the show still in place, it was good to see an iconic program end with the surprise it started with.
The Call Centre
This show was priceless, mainly thanks to the tea and coffee girl who faffed around, turned up late, wore too much makeup, had a bizarre father-daughter relationship with the boss, and for the most part got her tea and coffee orders wrong! Enough said.
If Naomi Campbell is part of the process, I’m sold. I don’t care if she’s painting her nails, painting a wall as part of community service, oh, or painting the rest of the model world as peasants compared to her. She can do what she wants to do. Thankfully her command was to enlist wannabee runway girls, bully and build them up, in a competition against other judges that included Erin O Connor. The girls were completely clueless in comparison to their mentors, but I’m a fool for a photoshoot and odd concept editorial, so this was prime time trash with added pout.
Words: Charlie Matthews