About 10:15pm last night, I decided I was going to watch television. Maybe Big Brother, followed by Tears, Tiaras and Transsexuals; something to lull me into dreams about how lucky I am not to be an absolute attention whoring reality TV contestant and / or a pretty lady with manbits. Anyway. I got upstairs, switched on the TV and up popped the last channel I'd had on. Which was, apparently, Magic FM.
Now, I love Magic FM as much as the next drunk. In fact, at 3am in a cab home (if it's not on already) I'll actively request that the driver retune his radio into Magic FM's late night love songs; a back to back extravaganza of cheesey, romantic, golden oldies to sing along to before falling asleep until you have reached your destination.
But at 10:15pm on a sober Wednesday night, it's just not what I'm after. I wanted Big Brother, or some choice trash. Well, "want" is a strong word. A "quick sniff" is perhaps more apt. So I glanced about for the remote (can't change the channel without it on my digibox)...which was nowhere to be found. I played the "if I was a remote control, where would I hide?" game. It wasn't in my bed, on my bean bag, behind a speaker or on any cluttered surface. And "Yesterday Once More" by the Carpenters was not helping my plight.
I quickly turned my bedroom into something resembling Beirut circa 1990, scattering clothes, electrical equipment, bed covers and make up bags all over the gaff. No sign. By this point, it wasn't so much that I wanted to watch Big Brother, it was the fact that I couldn't watch Big Brother even if I wanted to. I couldn't watch anything - just the frozen Magic FM logo. I tried my sister's remote control. I switched the box on and off again. No luck. After 20 minutes of solid searching, I eventually found it in my unpacked suitcase, where I'd thrown it the night before. Game over, yes?
No. The damn thing still wouldn't work. The past 20 minutes had made me angry, but now I'm positively fuming. I'm pressing every god damn button on that piece of plastic, and no go. Batteries! Batteries! Now I'm downstairs, trying to find AAA batteries but of course there's none to be found. Eventually I do what any other irate frustrated woman denied her quota of trashy TV would do: went and nicked the ones from my sister's remote. AHA! Victory is mine!
Except it still didn't bloody work.
If there was a frustration richter scale, I'm now completely off the radar. I'm not just angry at not being able to change the channel, I'm pissed off with the makers of the digibox. I'm annoyed at my dad for buying me this model. I'm completely baffled and worse still, Leona Lewis is now crooning at me from the corner, telling me it'll get better with time. OH JESUS.
So I go to the back of my TV. Unplug everything that it's possible to unplug, switch off everything that can be switched off...and wait. Then I turn it all on again. And hey presto! It works. I revel in being able to change the channel, Channel 4 is my oyster.
To summarise:
30 minutes to find the remote.
5 seconds to realise Big Brother is still the vat of steaming silage I'd usually part with an organ to avoid.
Brilliant.
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11 comments:
You can actually buy something to attach to your remote control, and when you press a central button it beeps until you find it.
All that for Big Brother...good god.
I think I'm going to get a piece of string and tie it to my bed. I clearly cannot be trusted with one. Although, given my choice of programme...maybe losing it would have been the best choice.
I think there’s a new lost-iPhone-locator app. Maybe they can develop one for remotes. But still no remedy for Big Brother, I’m afraid.
Oh, wait a minute…there IS a remedy for Big Brother. The OFF switch!
I always thought there should be a pager button on your TV that makes your remote beep just like the ones they use for cordless phones.
You need a devise a 'Megatron' ala Peep Show. Just selotape every single remote you have together and hey presto you have one MASSIVE remote that will be too big to ever loose or misplace again :)
Unbearable - Ohhh, youuu! get off your high horse! I bet you've had a sniff of Big Brother before...even if it did make you want to vomit up your internal organs afterwards.
Misa101 - That is exactly what I was thinking as I hurumphed around my room last night in a remote rage. You used to be able to get a thing for your keys that beeped when you whistled...
Miss H - Genius. That may be a joke, but I kid you not...I may just try it.
O for the days when teles just had three channels and you actually had to get up (yes, GET UP OFF YOUR ARSE) to turn the channel, turn up the volume, etc., etc. Those days were also devoid of Big Brother too.
And they call this progress ... ?
I was actually pining for exactly that last night, MOT. "What happened to the days when I could just change the channel by pressing the buttons on the front of the telly?" I proclaimed to a row of watching cushions.
Doesn't the Digibox come with controls for changing channels built on to the box? Would that not of been easier?
Ahem
"So I glanced about for the remote (can't change the channel without it on my digibox)..."
*whistles*
;)
Sorry, every time you (or anyone else) mentions Big Brother I automatically miss the next two lines.
It took me a while to see where you had quoted then.
And I stick to this rule so much I haven't a clue what I've just wrote, apart from this sentence.
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