Doris’s Digest #8: The Solitary Sin That Ruins Young Lives

image They are all up to it these days. Teenagers, and even younger than that. It’s a wonder that some of them don’t go blind, they do that much of it. Some of them seem to spend every waking moment at it. Their parents don’t seem to mind, in fact they ruddy well encourage it. They send them up to do it in their bedrooms, so that they aren’t getting under everyone else’s feet downstairs. It makes them tired and listless at school the next day. It makes it difficult for them to concentrate on anything else. It saps their energy. It depletes their imagination. It ought to be ruddy well outlawed, or at least something done to prevent them doing it too much. Watching television is a disgrace.
Well, alright. It’s ok in moderation. But what with all the channels they get these days, and broadcasting all hours, not to mention DVDs and digital recorders and internet catch up and whatever else they dream of. The kids of today don’t seem able to watch it in moderation. They just don’t know when, or even how to stop.
They have these new fangled earphones by Doctor Doom an’all these days, so you don’t even know when they are doing it. The Fantastic Four should have finished him off when they had the chance, but ohh no. Too busy trying to find a cure for Ben Grimm, and now we are losing generation after ruddy generation to the one eyed god in the corner.
I wouldn’t even mind if people watched it together, at least they could hold a conversation about it afterwards. But they don’t even do that any more. There’s one in every room now, and everyone watches what they like when they like, filling their heads full of ruddy rubbish like the “A Team” and “Come Dine in a House Like This.” Half the kiddies these days have watched more programmes about hot dinners than they have had hot dinners, because their ruddy parents are too glued to the box to cook them anything. You can’t expect kiddies to grow big and strong on crisp sandwiches, even if they are cheese and onion. Cheese and onion crisps aren’t going to count towards their ruddy five a day, are they?
When I was a lass, television hadn’t even been invented, and it didn’t do me any harm. We used to cut out pictures from magazines and do plays with them in our little toy theatres. You needed a bit of imagination to do that sort of thing. The kids today have it all on a plate. Spoon fed, they are. Straight from the ruddy satellite dish.
And even in the prisons. A colour television in every cell! You wouldn’t catch me on the telly for all the tea in tescos, not with all convicted murderers and child molesters slobbering all over me. In colour an’all. It takes the ruddy biscuit that does, twists it in half, licks the cream out of the middle, and throws the dry bits in the bin.

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