Here’s to orange pills and daytime TV by Brandon Faber

Posted on 29. Jul, 2009 by admin in Brandon Faber

I’m writing this, three days past deadline and infected by the Eish1 N1 (south) virus.

To my left sits Alfred the magic pig and, to my right, Fred the depressed donkey. Some might say these two abominations are creations of the bucket loads of medicine I’ve been taking – alas, I beg to differ. Alfred has taken the time to explain the inner workings of government and why nationalising our mines is actually a good idea. Fred pointed out that nothing is ever as good as it seems and that somewhere, the Pink Harpic Squad is waiting to invade our homes.

They are out there; patiently biding their time… pretty soon the emails will start flying – “Night of the Long Toilet brushes”. I suspect Zimbabwean war veterans and retired SABC board members are involved in this unprecedented attack on our way of life.

But I digress.

Combine the musings of Alfred and Fred with above mentioned new virus strain fighting for control of my frontal lobe which (for all those who failed biology, is supposed to control planning, organising, problem solving, selective attention, personality and a variety of “higher cognitive functions”, including behaviour and emotions) and you are left with a confused mess of a man that sees the value in Verimark veggie cutters and machines that mimic the sound of the ocean.
It is in this state of mental capitulation that I stumbled through the travesty that is daytime TV, and not just any daytime TV, mind you. Buckling under the pressure of morbid curiosity I descended into the dark, murky, world of the national broadcaster’s offerings:

- SABC 1 has some school education programme that I don’t understand. It has nothing to do with the language the episode is broadcast in and more to do with my level of intelligence – failing to grasp the true meaning of X and where you can find it on a cold winter’s day

- SABC 2 features a kid’s show about extreme sports where, in the audience, twenty “learners” were paid handsome bribes to be there. The host is doing a decent job but, in the front row of the two-rowed audience, the blonde chick with the nervous twitch is hogging all the attention. Lo and behold they allow her to speak. She’s into rock climbing – “nothing like it” she exclaims while her left leg seems to march to some beat only certain species of dog can hear.The camera moves to the dude sitting next to her but, unfortunately, her head has also started to swing from left to right. I fear for the safety of every person in the studio as clearly this lady is three tequilas short of a party. Someone gets a message to her because all of a sudden she quietens down. By the concentration on her face it’s clear she’s analysing the latest Julius Malema sound bite or, in fact, is holding back the world’s biggest fart

- SABC 3 and that Noleen lady is doing her thing, talking to strippers and strip club owners – at last, something I can identify with. On the couch two “dancers” are flanked by the owner of “The View”, a sexologist, and a huge woman that looks like something out of Starwars. “The mother of the stripping industry in SA” we are told. “Geez, nature can be very cruel” I think to myself as Noleen storms through a barrage of questions. “YAWN” I pop another two orange pills and was just about to see what delights the cretins at E-TV have in store when Noleen rescues the day.

“What kind of people can strip?” she asks Starwars lady. “Could I, for example, strip?”
Momma Whiteboots looks her up and down and then delivers a coup de grace for daytime viewing:

“Maybe if you charge by the kilo”. .

….I haven’t stopped laughing since.

If that is not something worth watching over and over again, nothing is. Bring on the flu and the whole animal farm to sit by my side. Bring on kak Harpic ads and those three idiots from Outsurance – this is what entertainment is all about.

Viva daytime TV!

Read more about the author: Brandon Faber