Watch television for half an hour or so. Get interested in what you’re viewing – news, drama, documentary, whatever – and curious to know what happens next. At some point before the program concludes, pour a glass of water into the TV’s innards. Wait for the inevitable results, whether a spectacular explosion or merely a silent cessation. Pretend you didn’t pour the water in. Continue to stare at the blank screen. Wonder what went wrong. Get bored, get frustrated, get anxious. Contemplate the reflective blankness. Feel the loss of the narrative. Explore the knowledge in your head that you can’t just walk away and ignore it, but that you don’t know what to do. Come to terms with the realisation that this phenomenon will have an unknown cost. Open the TV’s casing and let the water drain out. Press the on/off switch and wonder why nothing happens. Stare further at the screen because this is now the most important thing in your life. Let exercise, dinner, friends and family recede into the distance. Your plan is to sit there until the programme reappears.
Your partner comes home. What happened to the TV, they ask. I don’t know, you reply. Shall we call someone out to fix it, they ask. The TV’s broken, you reply. We’ll have to do something about it then, they tell you. No, you mumble, you don’t understand… it doesn’t work anymore. Let’s get a new one, they suggest. No, I want this one to work, you say. Obviously this one isn’t working, they point out, you can’t just sit there. But I want this one to work, you tell them uncertainly, I was watching a programme on it. You’re sad, so sad. And so you sit there on the sofa for a year or so, watching the blank screen because that seems like the best plan. Your partner has a different plan, but you know it won’t get your programme back. No, the best idea is to wait… this will eventually come right, somehow. Things will pick up exactly as they did before. That seems like the easiest approach. In the meantime, you need to sleep. You’ll wake eventually, but for now you’re tired. There are listings and schedules, but only one programme you want to see. You’ll wait as long as it takes.
The Breakdown
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Wow. All the more scary and affecting for being written in such a deadpan way. I hope it’s not autobiographic or at least more reminiscence than presence.
Oh my god. I think you nailed it. I once let a few drops sizzle into the TV’s wiring. It shorted. But then it came back.
But I’ve seen that year-long blank screen look once or twice before, on friends faces, and to have never been all the way there myself I count a lucky lucky thing.
Amazing stuff here, HG.
There’s the comical response – “well, there’s still iPlayer, eh?” – and the not so comical but far more appropriate response: brilliant.
I got this funny feeling of foreboding reading this.
In retrospect, one of the most radical TV programmes that I watched as a kid was Why Don’t You Just Switch Off Your Television Set And Go And Do Something Less Boring Instead? I didn’t know until this morning that Russell T Davies (Doctor Who) produced and directed it for a while.
is there an elephant in the room?
The elephant died a long time ago. We kept its skeleton in the cupboard for a while, but ground down its bones and scattered them on the garden as fertiliser about three years ago.
I’m pleased to here that.
Very scary ! Is this my life ???
Hope not…