WILLO TALK: Reach for the Sky

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AS a kid growing up in the 1980s, I have vivid memories of weekend TV.

There always used to be some talent programme on, or a Royal Variety Show, or a quiz show with crappy prizes.

Bruce Forsyth used to be on all the time, I remember Cilla Black doing Surprise, Surprise, Michael Aspel hosting something about not getting ran over and Jim Bowen handing out garden furniture to a pair of numpties who lived on the 18th floor of a tower block during his time hosting Bullseye.

I remember Dusty Bin on 3,2,1, with Ted Rogers doing that thing with his hand, and a host of other programmes used to be compulsary on a Saturday teatime.

Back in those days, you used to watch a whole programme from start to finish.

Not because they were any good, but because we didn’t have a remote for the telly and nobody could ever be bothered to get up and press the button to turn it over.

The reason for my little walk down memory lane is down to the fact that I had the misfortune to be stuck in on Saturday night with nothing but the TV remote for company.

I’ve been trying to get this new BT Sport package in time for the start of the new football season, and the supposedly simple process of adding it to my already extortionate bill somehow resulted in Dave in Delhi cancelling the vast majority of channels I pay to watch and leaving me with what is affectionately known as ‘Council Telly’.

As I watched streams of taxis out of my front window taking people out on the lash, I made myself comfortable and sat down to see what I pay my TV licence fee for.

Now I’ve seen some rubbish over the years, but it’s safe to say that on Saturday night, my TV viewing experience plummeted to new depths.

Did anyone else have the misfortune to see The Puppet Game Show?

I gave it the benefit of the doubt for a bit, longer than I should have really but only because Harry Potter And His Latest Crock Of Dung was on ITV, but in the end I had to turn it off before I put my foot through the screen.

I’ve checked my account this morning to see if the TV Licensing people have actually paid me this month rather than taking their direct debit, because that was just taking the mickey.

If Dave in Delhi doesn’t get my Sky back on by Saturday, then it’s a fair bet you’ll see me in court round-up next week if that TV detector van comes round my street.