Yes, that’s right, read it and weep- I managed another post without resorting to Fifty Shades of Grey, and that’s the way it’s going to be. I want to turn the focus back on TV and pop culture in general for a bit before I finish Grey, because the last thing I want is to become That Angry Chick who Blogs About EL James. Because I am better than that, god-damn.
Today, I want to delve into my television history. Yeah, that’s narcissistic as hell, but you knew that about me already. I’m going to have a look at how my viewing tastes changed since my televisual gestation up till now, as signposted by the people on TV I had the biggest crushes on at the time.
Phase One: British Comedies
A man flared of nostril and fine of posture, the crush the characterised this decade was Chris Barrie, better known as Rimmer from Red Dward, better known as this swoonsome heap of manhood:
No, seriously, not joking. On a side note, my boyfriend is quite offended by the fact that all my crushes aren’t particularly good-looking (to anyone else), and what that might insinuate about him.
Back when I first starting really taking notice of TV as an actual thing that I might want to spend four years blogging about, it was British comedy that pulled me in. Fawlty Towers, Father Ted, Black Books, The Office, Extras, Dad’s Amry, Rising Damp…if it was there, and it had a British accent, you could be sure I would plow through it in an obsessive weekend. Chris Barrie as Rimmer in Red Dwarf appealed not only to the deliberate contratian in me, but the sarcastic, rude, and unbearably snobby part. I hate to say it, but to this day he makes me much happier than he probably should.
Phase Two: Sitcoms
I think it was my dad who bought me my first Friends DVD, which had the first eight episodes of season three on it, eight episodes that caused me to fall, hard and fast, in love with Courtney Cox.
. I can still quote those damn episodes line-for-line till this day, after I spent months hunched over my shitty desktop computer, playing those discs until there was essentially nothing left. That led to the early-morning Channel Four episodes of Frasier, then the late-night reruns of How I Met Your Mother- hell, I’m ashamed to say Two and a Half Men often graced my viewing schedule, because I didn’t know any better please don’t hit me. My father and I shared a strong appreciation of The Big Bang Theory, mainly because of the resemblance in personalities between my brother and Sheldon. A love for Courtney Cox, once born, never dies.
Phase Three: Dramedy
It all started with Glee. Godamn fucking shitting stupid mother-titting Glee. And, fortunately, that led in to better things- things including Fresh Meat, and an unswervable affection for Zawe Ashton as Vod.
Sprinkle some dramedy with a sci-fi twist- hello, Being Human- and throw some Skins in there, and you’ve summed up what I was watching when I arrived fresh-faced in my university halls, not yet realizing I’d taken a joint degree by mistake. Ah, simpler days.
Phase Four: British Cookery Programmes
Look, fine, Paul Hollywood. It was a dark time in my life.
Phase Five: Serious Television
If I said anything other than Michael Rooker as Merle Dixon, I’d be lying through my teeth and we all know it.
I hit my big Serious Television phase a couple of years ago, and it carried me through everything-Breaking Bad when I was moving into my very first flat, The Walking Dead when I had to live on my best friend’s floor for a week, American Horror Story (you just want to keep up with Jessica Lange!) when I started smoking, Vikings when I quit. Hannibal also successfully ruined any good moments by being so utterly bloody horrible and compelling.
Phase Six: Clever Trash
You know the stuff I’m talking about. It’s rubbish. It’s fun. You hate it, but you love it. You roll your eyes at every plot development, but nod along with it because fuck it, you’re not here to actually engage your brain. Orphan Black. (the excellent) Wayward Pines. Sense 8. Misfits. Utopia. The stuff that threatens seriousness, but always peels back into stupid, entertaining crap. As Tatania Maslanay from Orphan Black is the queen of my heart across the board, Iwan Rheon defines this stage, judging by how often I find myself looking at pictures of his strange, handsome, strangely handsome face. Look, here comes one now:
So what were your big, TV-defining crushes? Do you share any of mine? Can you out-weird my choices? I dare you.
The Cutprice Guignol 