It was 2013, the year that television reached its logical conclusion, and the first programme composed entirely of ‘coming up next week’ and ‘previously on the show’ segments aired. No-one voiced any objections; they were too busy checking twitter to see what other people thought about it.
I noticed, though, and decided that it was time to draw a line. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realised that the line was supposed to be figurative, and I hadn’t realised that the pen I had picked up was permanent. When my wife returned home to find our television set neatly bisected by a thick, black, horizontal line, she ordered me out of the lounge. I secretly suspected that she was feigning anger – she had always had a bit of a thing for moustaches - but decided to steer clear just in case. As the evening was young, I struggled to think what I could do; surfing the internet was out, since I put my foot down over getting broadband (again, how was I supposed to know that the foot in question should have been figurative?).
I would have liked to go out to a society. I used to have a great time as a member of Anonymous Alcoholics (you’d go to a bar, and get drunk while refusing to tell anyone your name), and missed the structure of ‘Taxonomists, Royal Society of, The’. But I was barred from both of those fine institutions, after a bit of a misunderstanding. You see, I had watched a documentary which said that ‘humans have the greatest aptitude for social bonding next to chimpanzees’. I thought that I would bring a chimpanzee to a meeting to test this.