1934: Across the Universe

I've been rewatching Star Trek recently and simultaneously introducing Andie to it. At the time of writing, we're coming up on the end of season six of The Next Generation and a few episodes deep in Deep Space Nine, because yes, I'm one of those people who likes to watch overlapping shows chronologically so the few-and-far-between crossover episodes happen at the "right" time.

I've been really enjoying them. I reached something of a saturation point with Star Trek in my late teens and early twenties as it was on TV an awful lot and it was one of those shows I liked to record every episode of on video. I started collecting the official videos at one point and even had some of the more ostentatious box sets — such as the awesome Data one which had a metallic mould of Brent Spiner's face — but eventually reached a point where I simply parted ways with it, not because I was no longer enjoying it or had seen it all — to date, there's a significant chunk of Deep Space Nine I've never seen, I've not seen beyond the first season of Voyager and I've been surprised how little I remember of The Next Generation — but simply because there were lots of other things vying for my attention.

With the modern age of video on demand, though, you can watch a show like Star Trek at your own pace when it's convenient to you, and with no fear of missing episodes because you're out on Wednesday nights at 6pm or whatever. This gives the shows a much greater feeling of coherence than if you're watching disjointed — and sometimes out-of-sequence — episodes once a week on the television, and makes it into a much more enjoyable experience as a result.

Although I'm enjoying revisiting The Next Generation — and, as noted above, have actually forgotten a significant amount of it, so rewatching these episodes feels quite "fresh" — the main thing I'm looking forward to is the completely new episodes of Deep Space Nine. For some reason, when I was younger, I and my family regarded Deep Space Nine as "the boring one" in the Star Trek pantheon, with it not getting truly interesting until the fourth season, when they sped up the theme tune a bit, gave Sisko a badass starship to fly around with and decided it was high time the Klingons started being villains again. Watching it with more mature eyes and — I like to think, anyway — refined tastes, I'm liking it a lot more than I used to for its emphasis on characterisation and relationships over tales of derring-do in space. It's a good complement to The Next Generation, and watching them in parallel as we have been really highlights this.

Also Odo is a work of genius, combining witty writing with some wonderfully deadpan delivery by Rene Auberjonois. I'm especially interested to find out more about his particular story arc, as that's something I've only seen dribs and drabs of here and there; I stopped collecting the videos and watching the show just as the Dominion storyline was getting underway.

There's still a long way to go before we've watched all of them, but I'm not complaining; the shows — with the possible exception of the first couple of seasons of The Next Generation — very much stand up to the test of time and, while occasionally cheesy (rocking camera shots while people throw themselves around the set ahoy!) remain some of the most interesting, enjoyable, dramatic, emotional and thought-provoking television there has ever been.

Here's to the final frontier.

1904: 21st Century TV

The Internet has brought with it many things both good and bad, but by far my favourite thing about it is to do with video.

No, I'm not talking about YouTube generally — the whole "anyone with a webcam can make videos!" culture it promotes feeds into modern youth's unhealthy obsession with "being famous" — but rather the fact that, between the various streaming services out there, both legitimate and… less legitimate, there is probably some way of watching all those programmes/adverts/movies you wish you still had 1) the VHS tapes for and 2) something to play them with.

This last week, for example, Andie and I have watched Police Squad!, the TV-based precursor to the Naked Gun movies. Only six episodes were made, and back at university, when I "discovered" the show for the first time, I had a VHS cassette with two of them on it, so I had only ever seen those two episodes. Now, however, some helpful Polish person has kindly uploaded the whole lot onto YouTube for anyone to enjoy at their leisure. No waiting for TV networks to license them and show them again. No tracking down video tapes and VCRs. Just click and go.

The ability to rediscover old favourites is one of the best things about streaming video, then, as my rewatch of Star Trek: The Next Generation for the first time in about ten years will attest. But the fact that streaming services makes new favourites easier than ever to discover, too, is rather wonderful. I doubt I'd have become so interested in anime without my Crunchyroll subscription, for example; prior to widespread streaming video, the only real way to get into anime was to buy VHS tapes or DVDs, and with anime being niche-interest and somewhat "exotic", particularly when it first hit these shores in the mid-90s, it was a rather expensive hobby. Anime DVDs and Blu-Rays still cost up to twice as much as a regular ol' Western film even today, making online services like Crunchyroll much better value.

This is the TV of the 21st century, then; it really is the vision of the future we had twenty, thirty years ago: decide what you want to watch, then just watch it. In most cases, that's possible to do, even if you have strange, bizarre and peculiar tastes. And even if you're more fucked up than most, I can almost guarantee that there's some dark corner of the Internet out there somewhere more than willing to cater to your particular interests, whatever they might be… for better or worse.

In these days of people seemingly constantly yelling at one another on social media and comments sections on large sites being widely (and, sometimes, justifiably) regarded as fetid cesspits, it's easy to forget the great and wonderful things that the Internet has brought to modern life. I'm a strong believer that its ability to "archive" — for future generations to be able to enjoy movies, TV shows, animations and other videos from years ago — is one of the best things about it. And as technology improves and we find more and more ways to interact with this world-wide network, I hope we never lose sight of these simple pleasures that it's allowed us to enjoy like never before.

1847: Your TV Is Not Trying to Kill You

So another outlandish "privacy scandal" looked set to erupt on Twitter earlier. For the benefit of anyone who might be considering sharing anything regarding Samsung Smart TVs sending your personal information to third parties, allow me to clarify a few things.

Samsung Smart TVs have a voice recognition feature. I know this because I have one. (I also never use it, because voice recognition is, for the most part, stupid and pointless when you have a remote control right there. Assuming you have hands, it is pretty much always just as quick to use the remote as it is to remember exactly how you're supposed to phrase a voice command.)

Anyway. The way this voice control works is very simple. You press a button on the "special" remote, not the "normal" one, and the microphone in the remote starts picking up your voice. When you've finished speaking, it sends what you said over the Internet to a speech recognition service (that more than likely converts the speech into computer-friendly text for more accurate processing) and then your TV receives an instruction based on what you said. The TV itself isn't doing any real processing; that all happens remotely, and the TV simply receives the instruction to do something based on what the speech recognition service thinks you said.

Astute iPhone-owning readers will know that this is exactly how Siri on Apple devices works — it's why you can't use Siri when you don't have an Internet connection, even to access information stored locally on your phone such as your address book and suchlike.

The reason these services work like this is to take some of the processing workload off the phone/TV/other device with voice recognition. It's not an ideal solution, but it does mean that the devices in question can be less expensive because they don't need hefty processing power or software to recognise voices pre-installed on them. One day we may have devices that can recognise our voices accurately without requiring an Internet connection — although chances are by the time we've perfected that, the Internet will be "everywhere", rather than just in Wi-Fi hotspots and mobile coverage areas — but until then, this is how voice recognition tends to work.

As such, a necessary part of the entire process involves sending a recording of what you said to the third-party speech recognition service. This means that if you press the microphone button on your Smart TV remote and then decide that the appropriate thing to say at that moment would be "My credit card number is…", a recording of you saying your credit card number will be sent to this speech recognition service. Chances are, nothing will happen with it, but as with any sort of unencrypted information transmitted across the Internet, there's a slim risk of nefarious types intercepting the transmission and taking advantage of it.

Because of this slim risk of stupid people telling their TV remote what their credit card number is, Samsung have had to put a disclaimer in their Smart TV documentation that the TV may send your personal information to a third party, and of course, people have misinterpreted this as the TV always listening to what you're saying, and it therefore being unsafe to share any personal information while within earshot of your TV. This is, of course, utter nonsense, because as I've outlined above, you have to specifically press a button in order to activate voice recognition mode, and the "third party" it's being sent to is doing nothing more than converting your babblings into something the computer in the TV can recognise as an instruction to do something.

That is it. Nothing more. Nothing sinister. And if you're still uneasy, you could 1) not buy a Smart TV, since technology clearly terrifies you, 2) not use the voice recognition function (which, in my experience, is patchy, slow and pointless anyway) or 3) not talk about credit card numbers or other personal information when you've pressed the button that specifically asks your TV to listen to you.

So there you go. This has been a public service announcement. I thank you.

1839: These Are the Voyages

Andie and I have been watching Star Trek: The Next Generation recently. We started watching from the very beginning (yes, even the dodgy early ones) a while back, but picked it up again recently. I've been delighted to discover 1) how well it holds up after all these years and 2) how many of the individual episodes I've forgotten about.

I mean, sure, I still remember particularly noteworthy episodes such as any involving Q, Data or the Borg, but I'm finding the episodes in between to be almost as if they're brand new to me. This is a good thing.

One of the big strengths of Star Trek: The Next Generation — and, indeed, many of the other Star Trek series — is the amount of variety there is between the different episodes. One week there might be an action-packed adventure with lots of space combat, zappy phasers and horrible alien monsters; the next there might be something like the one we watched this evening, which was skin-crawlingly creepy without veering into full-on horror; the next still there might be something that proves to be a genuinely emotional tearjerker.

Part of this variety comes from the fact that the series' setting has the whole universe to play with; any time things are getting boring, they can just warp the show to another part of the galaxy and bring in another alien race with their own quirks, variations on the "bumpy forehead" look and even, in some cases, languages. There are recurring cultures that have been around since the original '60s series, of course: the classic Klingons, the insidious Romulans, the devious Cardassians and the proud Vulcans all make numerous appearances. And there are new recurring cultures that have been introduced by The Next Generation: the empathic Betazoids, the symbiotic Trill (explored in considerably more depth in the follow-up series Deep Space Nine) and the deeply spiritual Bajorans (likewise), to name but three. And, of course, the rather upsetting Borg, who remain just as chilling as they did the first time they graced our screens with their biomechanical nature and curious, cube-shaped ships.

This aspect of Star Trek at large is one thing that the ambitious but flawed online RPG Star Trek Online didn't quite get right, despite doing a lot of other things very well indeed. That variety just wasn't there, though it was at least partly due to gameplay constraints rather than an unwillingness to be true to the source material. It's difficult — though not, as we've seen on several occasions, impossible — to make a compelling diplomacy simulator, for example; it's much more fun to give players control of a heavily armed starship and invite them to blow seven shades of snot out of anything that dares to cross their firing arc. (Star Trek Online's space combat is one hell of a lot of fun, if you've never tried it; while it's true Star Trek feel may be a little questionable, there's no denying that it's a fantastically enjoyable space game, pure and simple.)

So, to get back on point: I've been enjoying Star Trek: The Next Generation very much indeed, and when the time comes I'm looking forward to revisiting both Deep Space Nine and Voyager and watching them both through to their conclusions — something I've never done. Yes, even as someone who would consider himself a bit of a Trekkie/Trekker/whatever you want to call it, I've never seen Deep Space Nine beyond the fifth season, and I've never seen Voyager beyond I think the third season. While I know the latter in particular is nowhere near as fondly regarded as its two predecessors, I'm curious to finally explore the entire universe in full detail, and thanks to Netflix, I can now do just that without filling up an entire bookcase with VHS tapes.

1802: Merry Christmas!

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Merry Christmas to one and all! I hope you had a thoroughly pleasant and restful day — or, depending on your timezone, are still currently having a thoroughly pleasant and restful day. Andie and I spend ours over at her mother's house, and it was a fairly traditional family Christmas all round — get up late (I must confess that this wouldn't fly in my parents' house, since my mother insists we all get up early to open presents; out of all of us, she has always been the one who has actually managed to hold on to Christmas enthusiasm), eat food, eat more food, open presents, sit back and ponder how much food has been eaten, maybe pick at a bit more food (particularly that which has been acquired as a present, such as those boxes of chocolates and Danish butter cookies that you only ever seem to see around Christmas time) and then gradually sink in to perusing your presents in more detail, perhaps accompanied by some appropriately rubbish Christmas TV.

Neither Andie nor I watch much TV generally these days: we typically watch the things we want to watch at our own pace via on-demand services. As such, it was actually a semi-interesting experience to catch some real-time TV, and watch some of the sort of things that we'd probably never choose to watch deliberately.

First up was Professor Branestawm, a name which I recognised from my youth, but which I couldn't remember a whole lot about. If I remember correctly, the character was the star of a series of children's books, but the actual content of them hadn't stuck in my mind all that much. As I watched the new BBC adaptation, starring Harry Hill in the title role (and incorporating numerous other respected names like Charlie Higson, David Mitchell and numerous others), it came back to me, though; they were some enjoyably silly and distinctively British stories that retain their "children's story" feel even to this day (though inevitably, someone had to go and find the "social outsider" angle of the wacky professor problematic, joyless arses that modern entertainment journos are). The adaptation itself was a lot of fun: the cast was excellent, Hill played the title role with aplomb, and the whole thing didn't outstay its welcome, in fact arguably being over a little too quickly if anything.

Next up, today we caught an animated movie called Gnomeo and Juliet. It will probably not surprise you to discover that this was a retelling of Romeo and Juliet through the eyes of some garden gnomes, with the dispute between the Montagues and Capulets replaced by a bitter feud between the red- and blue-hatted gnomes in the gardens of two neighbours who disliked one another very much. It was an enjoyably silly affair with some nice animation and an excellent voice cast — including the masterful casting of Jason Statham as Tybalt — though I was slightly disappointed that they didn't have the guts to go through with the full tragic ending. At least it was lampshaded by a pleasingly witty statue of William Shakespeare, voiced wonderfully by the inimitable Patrick Stewart. And I guess you can't really have what is clearly a children's film ending with suicide. Probably a bad message to send to the young 'uns and all that.

Finally, we watched the Doctor Who Christmas special today. I haven't watched Doctor Who for ages; I got into it a little bit in the Christopher Ecclestone/David Tennant years and watched a few of the Matt Smith episodes — primarily for the vision of loveliness that is Karen Gillan, I must admit — but I haven't been following it closely for several years now, and haven't seen any of the Peter Capaldi episodes to date.

The episode in question was an enjoyable affair, albeit somewhat convoluted and totally ripping off Inception with the whole "dream within a dream" deal. It stood quite nicely by itself — I didn't feel like I needed to know much of the background about the characters, so even not having seen any Capaldi episodes I was able to feel like I could enjoy it on its own merits. I'm not sure it particularly made me want to jump on board the Doctor Who hype train — Capaldi's script in particular was a bit flat and uninteresting, with little of the Doctor's usual personality about it, and the tension between him and the female assistant character was entirely too predictable — but I don't feel like it wasted an hour of my life or anything; it was decent enough Christmas evening television and an appropriate enough accompaniment to biscuits and prawn rings.

Anyway. That's that. I hope you all had a suitably acceptable haul of presents to enjoy — I got a copy of the board game Betrayal at the House on the Hill, which I'm extremely excited to give a go soon, along with a bunch of other nice goodies.

And lots of food. I think we're good for snacks for the next six months or so.

Anyway. On that note, a merry Christmas to you, and to all a good night, or something.

1799: I Eat In a Lot of Italian Restaurants

I've mentioned this a few times before on these very pages, I think, but I'm not generally a fan of any sort of "reality TV", be it the utterly pointless like Big Brother, or the vapid sort of "talent" competition coupled with obviously over-scripted "drama" from stuff like The X-Factor or The Voice.

I make one exception, however, and that's The Apprentice.

I wouldn't say I'm a particularly dedicated viewer of it — out of the ten seasons to date, I certainly haven't watched all of them — but I always find it to be quite enjoyable television. It strikes a good balance between the guilty pleasure of just observing people with strong personalities clash with one another and a degree more "structure" than many of these sort of shows. There are clear tasks and objectives for the participants to strive towards — though on occasion the measurement of success is somewhat ambiguous — and, at the end of the whole process, the reward for the winner is genuinely meaningful rather than pointless. Originally it was to become Alan Sugar's apprentice — hence the name of the show — but in more recent seasons the winner has simply gone into business with Lord Sugar, with the main bulk of the "prize" being the combination of this opportunity and a substantial initial investment from the big man himself.

The most recent series came to a close last night, and it once again proved to be quite enjoyable. It's also been interesting to see, over the course of the last ten years, how the business world as viewed through the lens of this TV show has changed. This year's victor Mark is set to start running an online marketing business for Lord Sugar — an entry into a crowded market, for sure, but something which Mark himself clearly believes in… and also a kind of business that really didn't exist in the way it does today back when The Apprentice first launched. (It was quite telling to see in the You're Hired! segment of the final show that a lot of people seemed genuinely to have no idea what Mark's business would involve — Internet marketing and search engine optimisation is still largely black magic to a lot of people.)

I won't pretend to know anything about business, however, so the appeal elements of the show for me largely relate to people-watching. And this year's cast was made up of a pleasingly diverse array of different characters. There was the youthful exuberance of Solomon, the eccentricity and arrogance of Sarah, the almost-unflappable nature of Katie and, of course, the bromance between Mark and Daniel. Notably, unlike many other reality shows, there was a mix of both likeable and dislikeable people in there, meaning that most people watching would probably be able to find both someone they could relate to and someone they really wanted to see suffer at the hands of Lord Sugar and his aides in the boardroom.

It's disappointing to hear that Nick will be leaving the show after this series, but I thought it wouldn't quite be the same after Margaret left, too, so I'm sure it will adapt in next year's installment.

By far the best thing about this 10th year anniversary of the show, however, is that there's a brand-new Cassetteboy video in the same vein as the one at the beginning of this post — and so, what better way to sign off than with that very video? Enjoy!

1773: Panel Beater

It was fashionable a while back to hate on that staple of British TV, the comedy panel show. I'm not entirely sure what there was to complain about — aside from the sheer number of this type of show on our screens, of course — but I never quite fell in line with what appeared to be popular (well, Twitter) opinion.

Why? Well, because I really enjoy panel shows. They're simple, enjoyable, lightweight, eminently disposable entertainment that are perfect for vegging in front of the TV, watching over dinner or falling asleep in front of. They don't place any particular demands on the audience, though if they're a topical show they can be one means of viewing the week's happenings, albeit through a comedically skewed lens.

And some of them have been running for a very long time indeed, which is impressive in itself. Have I Got News For You is, I believe, one of the most long-running examples, but I was surprised to discover the other day that music quiz Never Mind the Buzzcocks has been running for double-digit years, too.

These shows have remained fairly true to their original format over the years, though Never Mind the Buzzcocks has degenerated into chaos in an extremely enjoyable manner as the years have passed, with the latest series fronted by Rhod Gilbert being more like a bunch of slightly drunk mates sitting around pissing about than an organised game show.

The format has given us some true greats of television in more recent years, too. Few could deny that the show now most readily associated with the plummy tones of Stephen Fry — Q.I., of course — is an absolute classic of entertaining, educational television that masterfully combines cheeky humour with genuinely interesting facts about the world we live in and the people we share it with.

I've even pondered experimenting with the format myself in the form of a video games podcast in the panel show style. I still think it has a ton of unexplored potential in non-mainstream TV spaces, and think it would be an interesting thing to do at some point. It would also require a ton of preparation, however, so I'm not sure how practical it would be to do on a regular basis. Something to ponder, though!

1748: Have You Met Ted?

Page_1Finally watched the end of How I Met Your Mother tonight — I'd managed to remain completely unspoiled on exactly what happens in the final two episodes, although I knew that quite a few people were a bit cheesed off about it when it originally aired.

How do I feel? Well, I don't necessarily feel that it was a bad ending as such, but it did feel like it was somewhat rushed.

Spoilers ahead, obviously.

As Ted's kids point out in the final moments of the final episode, Ted's ten-year long story about how he met their mother actually wasn't about how he met their mother at all: instead, it was about all the other things that happened over the course of his life — events that happened to culminate in him meeting their mother Tracy, having children with her, marrying her and eventually having to say goodbye to her as illness took her from him and the world. (This latter aspect was glossed over disappointingly quickly; there was the potential for some gratuitous but nonetheless effective tearjerking here, and the show blew it somewhat — though in the process it only proved Ted's kids' point that the story really wasn't about Tracy at all.)

In particular, it was a show about relationships. Not just the extremely rocky Ross and Rachel-style "will they, won't they" nature of the relationship between Ted and Robin — which ultimately reached a somewhat hasty resolution in the very last moments of the last episode, but which nonetheless provided some closure on the overall story — but also the dynamics between the various elements of the whole group.

Marshall and Lily are presented as the most grounded members of the group; they're already in a relationship when the show begins, and the other characters clearly look up to them as some sort of "gold standard" of what to strive for when seeking a successful relationship with another person. They're far from perfect, though; they fight, they're often unreasonable with one another and, in the last couple of seasons in particular, they keep things of such magnitude from one another that it puts the very foundation of their marriage at risk. They always manage to come through, though; ultimately, their role is to provide the stable basis for the rather more chaotic other members of the group.

Barney and Robin's relationship was an interesting case. Barney falling in love with and eventually wanting to marry Robin was an abrupt about-face for the character, but it demonstrated a certain degree of personal growth on his part, and it was fun to see him struggling between his old life and his new, one-woman future as the final series depicted the last few hours before their wedding day. While their subsequent breakup and divorce in the final episodes acknowledged the fact that even the most fairy-tale of relationships don't always last even a couple of years — believe me, I know that all too well from firsthand experience — it was a tad disappointing for this aspect, again, to be glossed over somewhat hastily.

As for Ted and Robin, the tension over whether or not they'd ever end up together formed the backbone of the show to a certain degree. While it all being wrapped up neatly with them coming together in the final moments — and, presumably, living happily ever after — was predictable and, to a certain degree, satisfying, I can't help but find myself wishing that things had gone just a little bit differently.

The ending, I feel, would have been a lot more effective had we seen more of Tracy's final moments. It's abundantly clear that, although Ted loved Robin, he genuinely loved Tracy too, and even though she wasn't directly involved in much of the overall story until towards the end — the fact his kids point out — the show generally did a good job of teasing a few tantalising pieces of information about her as it progressed — the yellow umbrella; the fact she was always out of sight for the longest time; the fact we never found out her name until the final episode. The show did a great job of building up their relationship, of making the audience feel that everything that had come before had somehow led Ted to this moment — Destiny, Fate, whatever you want to call it — and then squandered it somewhat with a throwaway comment about her getting sick, and Ted ending up with Robin.

I'm a sucker for a bittersweet, borderline tragic ending, but I feel it would have made a fitting end to the series; although ostensibly a "sitcom", the show had more than its fair share of genuinely heartfelt, emotional moments, and the passing of Tracy at the end of the final episode would have proven a fitting finale — and perhaps a way of bringing "the gang" all back together in shared grief after they all go their separate ways following Robin and Barney's doomed wedding.

Still, I didn't write the show so it can't be changed, and overall, despite my criticisms above, I enjoyed the whole thing pretty consistently. It's definitely one of the strongest American comedies that has been on TV in the last few years; while I'm not sure it'll ever quite occupy the same place in my heart as Friends does, I'm certainly glad I watched it, and I'm glad it managed to come to conclusion, even if it wasn't quite the one I would have gone for. It's just a pity the two-part last episode felt so utterly rushed; while it's not enough to spoil my memories of the show as a whole, I can understand why some people felt it was a letdown.

Onwards, though; I guess now it's time to find a new show to watch!

1665: Shock Value

I'm pretty open-minded, as longtime readers will already be aware. But last night I, for pretty much the first time I can remember, found myself genuinely shocked by something that had been not only allowed on TV in the first place, but deemed worthy of repeating on one of those "nothing but repeats" digital channels — in this case, quiz show specialist channel Challenge.

There were two shows broadcast last night, neither of which I'd ever heard of prior to seeing them. And, having seen them for the first time last night, I'm now in no hurry to do so again.

I lump them both together like this because they both approached the same subject matter from a slightly different angle — the concept of humiliating contestants, causing them physical and mental discomfort and even inflicting pain in some cases. The shows in question? Distraction and Killer Karaoke. Both parts of the episode of Distraction in question are embedded in this post; watch at your own risk!

Distraction first. This was a Channel 4 show hosted by Jimmy Carr, who I've always interpreted as "cheeky" and occasionally a little bit risque, but never outright mean. Distraction turned that perception on its head — but more on that in a moment.

Distraction was first broadcast in 2003 and continued until 2004, so it had a relatively short life compared to some other gameshows. The concept of the game was twofold: in the initial elimination stage of the game, four contestants would compete against one another to answer insultingly easy question (in the episode I saw last night, all of the questions were from Key Stage 1 junior school material) while being distracted through various means. In the second stage of the game, the last remaining player would be presented with their prize, which would be damaged in some way if they answered any of their final questions incorrectly. The grand prize would either be a car — which would have parts of it smashed or defaced for an incorrect answer — or a pile of money, which would be destroyed piece by piece somehow with every incorrect answer.

The twist was the distractions themselves: these weren't simple things like someone buzzing in your ear. In the episode I saw last night, the very first game saw all four contestants sitting in toilet cubicles, with the only means of them "buzzing in" to answer a question being to do a piss, which would cause a light to go on above their stall. Later stages saw the contestants being thrown around and pummelled by professional wrestlers while answering questions, and in the final pre-prize stage, getting piercings with every correct answer, causing them to suffer more and more pain and discomfort the more questions they got right.

Killer Karaoke, meanwhile, operated on a similar premise. Hosted by Steve-O, of Jackass fame — which should probably tell you something about what to expect — the show challenged contestants to sing their way through popular songs while being, there's no two ways about this, abused in various painful ways. One contestant was on a swing and was unpredictably "dipped" into a tank full of snakes over the course of her song. Another was forced to wear vision-impairing goggles and walk barefoot through a cactus-strewn obstacle course while singing. Another still was strapped into a suit with a dancer "puppetmaster", who pushed her around as she sang, smashed a bottle over her head, rubbed a raw eel over her face and finished the song by slamming her face into a cake.

I had exactly the same reaction to both shows: initial surprise and laughter at the seemingly slapstick nature of it, gradually giving way to feelings of unease, horror and even disgust at the fact that people were genuinely being hurt — both physically and psychologically — in the name of entertainment. Slapstick comedy is nothing new, but both of these shows felt like they crossed a line somewhat: that not everyone was "in on the joke" as a willing participant. In Distraction in particular, Carr's appallingly written material — at least I hope it was written and not delivered ad lib — didn't come across as the usual cheeky, light-hearted jabs you hear him making on shows like 8 Out of 10 Cats and its ilk: it came across as just plain mean.

It was pretty telling that we didn't see or hear most of the participants' reactions to his spiteful comments; one contestant — a woman named Gabriela Blandy, whom it just so happens that I was at university with, and who decided to chronicle her experience in this beautifully written blog post — just looked plain miserable; the very picture of despair. ("I finally realise how shameful all this is," writes Blandy, reliving the experience, "and why I was never able to tell them I wanted to be an actress. I would have been admitting I was prepared to do anything to make it. There’s no Steven Spielberg, sitting in the audience, thinking: wow, that girl has talent! Besides, the talented ones are at home, learning monologues, putting genuine work in.")

Both shows were certainly effective in their shock tactics and I don't doubt that I'll be remembering them both for some time to come — likely when I least want to. But, on reflection, even admitting the fact that both made me genuinely laugh several times, I don't think I ever want to see them — or anything like them — ever again. And it's not very often I say that.

1635: Badvertising, The Return

Andie and I often fall asleep with the TV on its sleep timer, typically tuned to the inoffensive endless repeats of late-night Dave or the '80s and '90s quiz shows of Challenge. This means that we're continually exposed to some of the most stupid adverts in the known universe, what with the majority of channels on Freeview being commercial rather than licensepayer-funded.

We've already discussed the utter bollocks that is Alpen's "Characters" series of skits that bookend most of Dave's late night comedy offerings, so I won't reiterate that too much, particularly since there doesn't appear to be any clips of it on YouTube.

I will, however, discuss a few other things. Let's begin with this.

This is clever, you see, because it's for Gaviscon Double Action, and it's got two people in it. One suffers from one of the things Gaviscon Double Action treats, and the other suffers from the other thing Gaviscon Double Action treats. Except when they suffer from the other thing instead. Or both of them. Making the whole "twins" thing inherently pointless and the whole advert just looking rather stupid.

Leaving aside the dreadful play on words "carfuffle", let's ponder the question this advert asks: "do the words 'headless' and 'chicken' spring to mind?"

No! No they do not! I can honestly say at no time in my life have I ever felt like a headless chicken when looking for a new car. It can be a tedious and time-consuming process, sure, but something that gets you running around in a panic? No.

Social media is big, right? Streaming video is big, right? Let's make a mockup social media site of women who make videos about getting stains out of clothes! That won't look at all patronising!

This is… just shit.

Look, it's funny because women worry about leaving shitstains on the toilet, too. And there's a "clever" play on words at the end.

"There's nothing nicer than waking from a great night's sleep," says Lenny Henry.

I beg to differ. Sleeping is great. And I particularly won't want to get out of bed if I wake up and find my bed is on a fucking beach. Or in the middle of a wedding party. I'm not entirely sure what point they're trying to make here. Perhaps when you go to sleep in a Premier Inn you feel like you're in the middle of a wedding party.

Confused.com have had some legendarily shit ad campaigns over the years, but "Brian" really takes the cake. This ad also highlights a bugbear I have with modern advertising: the age-old art of the jingle appears to be dead, on TV at least, with modern ads tending to bastardise old, often beloved pieces of music rather than come up with their own original music.

(Jingles are not entirely dead, mind you; if you want to hear some truly awful but hideously catchy advertising jingles, I recommend tuning in to your local radio station at the earliest available opportunity. Lovett's move on up! Lovett's move on up! Lovett's move on up… ahem.)

I think I've made my point for now. Adverts are shit. And inescapable. Good night.