If, like me, you have spent a day or two camped in front of the television during time off, you’ve no doubt encountered the rusty rollercoaster on offer from BBC1 during the hours of 9 and 5. Why do these programmes exist? Why do people make them? Why am I not outside enjoying the heatwave?
All of the excitement kicks off with fifteen minutes of “sensible journalists talk to some guy from an ageing rock band about a gig in a pub in Wiltshire” at the end of BBC Breakfast quickly gives way to the lo-fi office documentary of “bald blokes talk to old people about old people who died” or the rather less illuminating Heir Hunters. No this is not a load of super cool, Russian bounty hunters searching for the long lost relatives of Tsar Nicholas II. “I’ve not seen David since I was 45 in 348 A.D in the Visigoth kingdom so it is a shame that he’s dead,” said one mothball-agglutinating participant shortly before cackling to themselves about the money they’ve just inherited from a bloke they hated. Now I sit here waiting for my ageing angel to deposit unto me a slice of their semi-detached in Surrey.