YOU know you’re old when watching TV programmes involving, ‘well-known’ personalities, and you don’t recognise any of them.

And to ensure you have no bolt-hole excuse for this celebrity ignorance, even their names make no logical sense whatsoever.

¨On today’s programme we welcome four familiar faces, Grime artist; Moggy Dirtbox, Poolside influencer; Sleezy Snotball, Rick-Rock music critic, El Thicko, and finally just returned from a successful tour of his own £45 million country residence, religious rapper, and Dyno-Rod sewage consultant, Avery Greaseball.”

Same with quiz programme questions. ¨Who is the twice-removed, very distant cousin of Godzilla, and sidekick actor starring in the hit American Metflex, all action-drama series, ‘Who cut Muffin The Mule’s strings?”

TV commercials fare no better. How many ads have you watched and ended up wondering what it was all about?

Or why casting chose attractive, slim, able bodied elegant, middle aged females, moving around like models on a catwalk, to demonstrate immobility products ranging from scooters to walking frames and showers to seated baths. Who are they kidding!

Next, I cast my beady eyes on reality programmes with their `Real Housewives,´ and `Love Island´ type contestants.

I am sure the production team includes wardrobe by ‘Steptoe and Son’, complete from ragged, torn jeans to 1940’s Utility dresses.

Make up by ‘Dulux Paints’, personally applied by the Old English Sheepdog himself and hair-styling by the military team responsible for clearing patches of jungle for helicopter landings.

Then of course we have those wonderful two-hour episode crime mystery series such as, Midsummer Murders, Vera, Poirot, Marple and others.

Love them all and always start eagerly looking for subtle clues and red herrings.

But by the end, I emerge as ‘’, totally blitzed by a convolution of sub-plots, twists and turns to the point of not caring who dunnit and to whom.

And of course, that essential police series, ‘Line of Duty’, had me glued to the screen, irrespective of being lost in a ‘Bermuda Triangle’ of totally alien acronyms and ending up with a finale that reminded me of how I felt on my tenth birthday when I expected a brand new shiny bike, but ended up with a pair of hand-knitted socks and a balaclava.

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