TV In A Coma (I Know, I Know It’s Serious)

As any cable subscriber will tell you television reception can be, at times, akin to a half shaken Etch A Sketch – a frozen mosaic of tiny squares with accompanying aural effects that sound remarkably close to Colonel Bogey being played under water by an asthmatic tuba lover.

Not so much oompah oompah as plain old bah.

This doesn’t happen often (t’otherwise nobody would pay for a cable service, would they?) but round where I live one sudden shock of cold weather is enough to make Virgin Media’s cable technology huddle up in a foetal position and refuse to play technological ball.

I’m sure Mr Branson would blame other adverse catalysts such as high tech mismatches of information packets and misdirected routings of fibre optic data but between you and me: it’s the cold. A bit of frost and News 24 resembles a kid’s finger painting. I’m so glad I invested in a widescreen TV.

Such a denial of service occurred on Sunday. No kid’s telly. No Dave. No UKLiving. No Catchup TV. Nothing.

Things looked glum for all of ten minutes.

And then we rediscovered the various and multifarious delights of (a) silence (b) music and (c) books.

It was amazing. Without the TV cracking its whip the day opened up into vast pastures of possibility. Suddenly time itself seemed to expand and cast off the shackles of enforced half hour slots of no-brainer entertainment. The day was pregnant with opportunity.

It made me realize how television – for all it can be a marvellous educational aid – also prevents you from thinking ‘outside the box’ (if you’ll pardon the pun). As soon as it is switched on the day seems to be mapped out and segmented according to what the various TV channels are broadcasting. You totally forget the many other home comforts that are available to enhance your living experience.

For most of Sunday we enjoyed a little quiet island of TV-less bliss.

Thanks to the efforts of the Virgin Media engineers the TV returned to life at the end of the day all mended and functioning normally... but, I have to say, looking a little bit nervous. A little bit insecure around the edges.

You see, we hadn’t missed it. We’d coped. We’d realized we could survive without it.

There was a New World Order.

The seeds of a comfortable rebellion have been sown...

Virgin Uma Downloads My Bits

To my everlasting shame and chagrin (given their totally pisspoor service) I have to admit to being an NTL customer. It is a cross I’ve borne with many a complaint over the last 7 years. I’ve stuck with them through thick and thin (or rather thin and thin) simply because I’ve heard loads of equally horrific customer-service related stories about every other ISP in the country so what was the point of changing? Better the devil, etc.

I’ve grinned and borne it. Even grunned and beared it. For 7 long years.

But help is now at hand. Virgin has bought out / merged with NTL to create a brand spanking new service called Virgin Media. They’re promising great things. They’re eradicating the name NTL in a vain attempt to eradicate the shame. They’re promising better customer service. They’re promising first class delivery of life’s essentials - better telephones, better TV, better broadband.

But most of all they’re promising Uma Thurman.

Their advertising campaign is currently hitting TV screens nationwide. It’s classy. It’s sexy. It’s Uma with a capital Ummmmmm!

Yes, Richard Branson has got Uma Thurman – coolest woman in Hollywood – to endorse his new media-tastic venture. The man’s undoubtedly a tosser but at times like these it’s just about possible to bathe in his massive toss fall-out and consider it worth while just to get your share of the glory that is Uma. Hell, you can have a bath later, can’t you? Or a cold shower if needs be?

Anyway, forget all the improved service crap and the money for old rope; the adverts plainly state that I can download Uma Thurman as many times as I want.

In fact Uma says so herself with that smoulderingly lethal look that finished off David Carradine in Kill Bill.

Now this is a service I will gladly pay for.

As I type I am eagerly awaiting the delivery of my brand new modem. It’s gonna have to be a big ‘un cos Uma’s a big girl. I’m not sure yet where I’m going to put her but my God am I going to have fun squeezing her in…

I’m polishing my sword as I speak. No word of a lie.

Richard Branson… occasionally, you’re a gent.