Television has come quite some way in the last 50 years, from 425 line monochrome monstrosities which were fitted with thermonic valves that glow strongly in the infrared. Due to the wonderful efficiency inherent in these valves, they could easily produce enough heat to warm an auld fowk's hame for a year. Now we have sleek high defination screens which reveal warts an all and fail to emit enough heat to defrost the lounge lizards who are seemingly frozen to the spot.

Now then, the technological refinement of goggle boxes is all fine and dandy until you consider the pig swill that is fed to the viewing public through this medium. It's becoming all too apparent that the internet is going down the cluggie in the same manner. With the internet, we have filters for filters to filter the filter. Aye, nea wunder it is a right scunner to find anything that is of any use or makes any degree of sense. The only filter I ken't before awe this guff was the wan on the end of a fag.

Perhaps it won't be too long before the Internet and TV are fully intergrated and become known as Crapnet and are owned by Tesco. Just think, you be able to lose the use of yer legs and will be able to control your virtual and real world with a mini screen handheld tablet instead of usual 10 remotes that you can never find. Also, think of the good it will do the enviroment with less batteries to dispose of.

Now as for TV content, below I have provided a snapshot of what was being broadcast through the airwaves on the evening of Saturday 21st January 1961. I am sure, some of us will remember what we were doing on that particular evening, and others may wish to forget or are just too pished, young or auld to remember anything or gie a hoot. As for yours truly here, I was engaged in a few games of chases of hide n' seek up some very eerie and ghostly gas light closes.




As you can see from the entertainment schedule, there was a wealth of top quality programs on offer for the discerning public to enjoy, including one Presidential Inaugration. Bearing this schedule in mind, in 50 years of supposed programming advancement, has anything, other than the base technology improved?

has anything, other than the base technology improved?

aye the "brainwashings" in color noo

Also delivered in glorious steriods and dolby too. Ain't we the lucky ones.

By jings, that brought back some memories. Highway Patrol! I used to think that was so sophisticated. Dan Marshall of the Highway Patrol, "10-4 to Headquarters!" "-Headquarters by!"

And Wyatt Earp, golly how we used to run home on a Saturday evening to watch Hugh O'Brien as the eponymous sheriff. I still remember the theme song, not with the original words,

#Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp,
#Brave, courageous and bold!

but the words that for years I misheard as

#Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp,
#Played for Rangers in goal!

These days my telly is so full of keech that when August comes round, and my licence is due for renewal, I am seriously considering scrapping it and returning to radio instead.

Ed "Cookie" Byrnes did it for me on 77 Sunset strip along with Tom Lapaka.

STV 11.35-11.40 - The Epilogue
BBC 11.05-11.13 - Epilogue (Note THREE minutes longer!)

Now THATS whit ye call - N - TER - TAIN - MENT

BRING BACK THE WEE DOT! Sumbuddy start a petition

classic gold

goodnight all

"Evening all", he says, flexing his truncheon and twirling his knees. That's the right script Jack, ain't it?

Ahem, may I introduce a suggested panacea for televisual dross, which is alleged to be entertainment M'Lud?

A simple two step solution is proposed. No, no, no twa steps aff a pier, well no yit anyway.

Step (1) Petition for more interesting and informative content, such as shown. (Fig.1)


(Fig. 1)
Click to view attachment


Step (2) Judicious, prudent and swift use of the following pain and life saving device. (Fig 2)


(Fig.2)
Click to view attachment

If those simple steps fail, please revert to the pier.

Television is no better here. Local stations are awful so we pay for satellite. Usd to be 52 channels of crap now it is 102. Now and again a good movie but except for the sport..yuck

Rabbie,

On that particular day I was spending my fifth day in Oz after emigrating from Glasgow. Wugger, that's nearly fifty-one years ago and I'll bet I was enjoying the Aussie sunshine rather than being inside watching a telly, which I can't remember anyone on our temporary accommodation hostel owning anyway ! I was just coming up for eleven at the time !

Tombro

Aw Rabbie, what wouldn't we give to have that menu of programmes back on tonight? With the amount of rubbish and repeats they put on these days they should be paying us to watch it.
When we get any real drama we rave about it, such is the standard of the programmes these days. Who can forget the long gone Play for Today, The Wednesday Play and the likes. Quality not quantity would be nice.

Aye Melody. Quality, wit we awe widnea give for some decent dross to watch!

Being an aircraft engineer, I also always strongly advocate quality over quantity / profit and any greed driven motives, after all many fowks lives depend on the quality and completeness of any servicing / maintenance carried out. Every wee chit /docket you sign is a legal and binding instrument that can get you strung up in the most embarassing manner. When matters go pear shaped the management invoke witch hunting measures and don thier shitproof blame avoidance shoulderpads.

As is normal British working practice, the buck stops with the fitter's apprentice or teaboy. Naturally, the management are exonerated and you may think quite rightly so depending on which side of the boardroom table you get yer tea and biscuits.

Unfortunately, while filling a boring gap between Uni Sessions, I had the dubious pleasure of sitting in with ITV Digital for a wee while. This is when the buffons were embarking on the ill fated voyage of setting up their doomed Digital TV network system. Anyone with a modicum of common sense knew it was a dead duck, all except the management. None as blind as those who won't see,

Natually, the unfrastructure was incomplete and a disgrace of the first magnitude. As such they could not deliver a quality product to most or thier customers, yet the idiotic powers that were, blindly pushed this keech out to compete with Sky.

Not given a flying toss about this worthless occupation, and as an engineer at heart I was quite content with putting fowks off buying or subscribing to this fated keech, which it undoubtedly was. As a measure of thier business plan, they even had a scabby monkey for a mascot which they attempted to use to improve the peddleworthiness thier wares, says it all really. That particular monkey has now been ninja'd by PG Tips, and can currently be seen between programmed dross on ITV. Concider that a friendly warning, and avoid it at all costs!

During one particular non descript day, I was yapping away to a prospective custom.. er, victim even. I was describing the merits of opting for SKy Digital instead of ITV Digital. Whereupon, one pretentious, of the worst kind, and particularly irritating female manager muttered in some up it's ain erse Inglish twang. "Robert, you are not a salesperson, are you?"
I replied in my poshest Gleasga lilt. "Wit!?, ah'v wurked in the Barra's ye ken and ah'm an Avionics Ingineer and ken mair aboot aerials then ye ken aboot Ariel soap pooder that ye obviously dinnea use." She was telt that in no uncertain terms, under the pain of slow agonising death, that only ma Maw, or Psych nurse; same thing really, are permitted to address me as Robert!

My attempt at mild sarcasm, I duly noted, was wasted on this particular humourless, pucker moothed, soor faced troot. Well, it's better to have tried and failed .... I then quicky opted for ignore drongo mode. Honestly, where do some of these people come from, are they imported from another planet to plague humanity>

Between survival training and my hourly valium medications, I recieved a phone call for assistance which involved assisting an elderly lady in setting up her new telly and to attune her new set top digital box. One of the first things you had to ascertain was the manufacturer of the set top box, as procedures for tweaking them varied enormously, so much for universal standards and consistancy.

Anyway, no being one to comply with Politically Correct <DILLIGAF> protocols and the like I asked the elderly lady:-

"Can you gie us the name on the box please, Sweetiepie?" After a few minates of fumbling noises, she comes back and croaks in a cackling tone "Eh, wit was that Son?"
Thinking to meself with that crashing feelin gin the pit of me stomach whilst popping another pill with a swig of vodka out the water bottle, "Here we effing go again!"

Instantly bouyed up by the comforting warmth of the alcohol, I decided to attempt a new tack. "Ok, Mrs, can you see the name on the box?."
She cheerly answered, "Aye, Son I can see the name!" Thinking to myself, "Praise ye Gods, this could have taken a while."

A moment or two passed, slowly with more footering and mumbling noises. I then prompted her, "Brillaint Mrs., can you tell me the name on the box then?" She belted out, with some gusto, obviously pleased with herself. "Parcel Force."

I nearly wee'd meself with laffing, the auld biddy hadnea even opened boax, bless her support stoakings.

You ken that was not untypical of some of the issues I had to deal with when setting up that ITV Digital toly. Eventually, I told then to stuff their shite civvy joab were it hurt and a few weeks later ITV Digital went to the wall.

No great surprise there, to my great delight and many others, an ill concieved product of quanity over quality bit the dust. Justice prevailed and all was well with the world, for a day or two.

Now then, if ye didnea fancy that night in watching telly, here is wee cross section the alternative entertainment what was on offer in the flea pits and theatres across Glasgow on that evening.

Did anywan go to see Cliff!? I bet a few of the lassies here did!

A quiet night in the lodge appears to have been a popular pastime.

Click to view attachment

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A wiz a wee bit young tae see Cliff - however I DID see Ben Hur!

It seems to be that the more Channels we have on TV, the more rubbish that's shown.

Is it any wonder the Downton Abbey was so popular. I think it was also a reminder to those of us who were fans of Upstairs Downstairs.

Ah, and not forgetting the fabulous Armchair Theatre, many of which I think were broadcast live. About ten or fifteen years ago, some of these were repeated in an evening dedicated, I think, to the old ATV channel, and it was good to find that it wasn't mere nostalgia that gave my memories of these plays a rosy glow : they really were that good.

There is some good drama these days, but in the main it does seem to be 'safe' stuff, populist crowd pleasers to keep the viewers from channel-hopping, and a lot of 'me too' programming. Just look at the repetitiveness of so much 'reality TV' (irony in spades, as it's generally quite heavily contrived).

There's a lot of far better stuff on the wireless.

The Lone Ranger wis the guy for me, riding into some town in his mega intelligent steed Silver with his companion Tonto, sorting out some problem for some gormless ordinary person and riding into the sunset with the gormless ordinary person saying "who was that masked man"

Instead of getting the answer" how many punters are cutting aboot the wild west wi a skin tight blue suit, twin pearl handed revolvers, a mask and a big white hoarse?"- some equally gormless bystander would say "why thats the Lone Ranger?"

The modern day telly equivalent is the smart person from the telly driving into town in his big white van with the name of the show written on it and his companion the gay interior designer, sorting oot a problem for some gormless ordinary person who disnae know how to sell his hoose, the show ends with the smart person from the telly and the gay interior designer driving off into the sunset leaving the gormless ordinary person wi a beige hoose and none the wiser!

Smart people from the telly will also show the gormless ordinary person how to bring up their kids/dress themselves/clean the hoose/buy a hoose............. even the Lone Ranger couldnae dae that!

Yer right about the wireless, I prefer to listen to the wireless the BBC Online site has a wealth of programs to cater of all tastes, well nearly all as there is no accounting for some fowks.

The telly only goes on if watching a DVD or on the rare occasion that a good; documentary, natural history science proggie, drama threatens to hit the wee screen or the lassie is beating the crepe out of nefarious villains in a violent video game. With effer happened to the fairer sex who grew up playing with prams, dolls and clicking up and doon the street wearing thier Mammies best high heels. Sigh, a ghost of the past fleeted through my imagination.

I prefer the wireless as it far less intrusive when working or studying as you dont need to stop and gawk aroond, drolling like a glaikit haddie.

The seriously sad and deranged amoungst us may recall the delights of Mrs Dales Diary and have no real wish to.

Then there is Rump tee tump tee tump tee tump, rump tee tump tee tump tump. Now thats one occasion I do rotate the dial. It's amazing to think one that is still going strong on Radio 4.

Never a truer word said Rabbie.... the internet is now going the same way as the telly.... chalk full of the biggest load of mince that you can imagine. On these stupid facebook sights they post junk about what they did on while waiting for a bus??

Its getting like you cant find anything decent in among all the garbage!!

I say lets go back to the old more-is-less belief and then we will get more quality and wont have to put up with so much crap.

Looking at the schedule from the Sixties I see that there was more Scottish football on then on a Saturday night than we get today!!

'humourless, pucker moothed, soor faced troot'

Prime Rabbie! Priceless!

'Rump tee tump tee tump tee tump, rump tee tump tee tump tump'

Glad someone else loves The Magic Roundabout too!

Oh Aye, that was so far out man. Quality programming for weans and discerning adults, it was mair pyschodelic than the cover of Sgt Pepper's viewed through a kaleidoscope. Nearest thing we have now is Into the Night Garden.

Here follows a wee bit of education for us aulders "weans" concering "The Magic Shroom .. Roundabout."

QUOTE

Created by the French author Serge Danot in 1965, the Le Manège Enchanté (The Horse-Gear Magic) had over 500 episodes made between 1963 and 1967.

The programmes were filmed in a derelict house in Paris, where the fuses kept blowing because of the amount of electricity used by the lights on the set.

See ye learn something new on the telly effery day. Lights blaws fuses, priceless.

My name is Ashfield and I'm an Archers Addict

I was thinking about all this violence we have now on telly, it's not like the old days..........or is it. Have a look at this and clock the date

http://www.guardian.co.uk/news/2012/jan/16...it-for-toddlers

Your burden is heavy indeed!


Nothing like a good friendly neighbourhood hingin and gallow's humour in Sherwood Forest. The perfect set and surely, tea time family entertainment at it's prime?!

I wonder if he resumed reading fairy tales to his daughter to calm her down.

Stuff about wolves eating her grandmother, breaking down houses to eat the occupants, stories about little girls being terrified by spiders, or poisoned by their step-mothers.

Och aye, the good old days of happy, care-free childhood!

Good old Babelfish mistranslation! It really is 'The Magic Merry-go-Round'.

The stories were re-told in English by Eric Thompson, father of Emma Thompson. Eric, however, couldn't speak French and didn't know what the stories were about, so he just looked at the films and made up his own stories to match the animation, and in doing so, created a children's TV classic.

The Magic Roundabout was so popular with us that we (Bomber Command, Rabbie) used to rush back tae the billets as soon as our shift was finished so we could watch-with-mother (no' tellin' yea who he was) before goin' tae the airmen's mess for wur tea.
"Time for bed" said Zebiddy

Tomi, as you know RAF Bomber Command are shower of wufters, lightweights and arty farty pansies. Ye should have moved up to Strike Command, ye know. Where men are men and the other men were glad of it. Oops a fairy, did I let someit slip there

Now then RAF(O) Thumarait "Thuggieland" was a real working mans outfit. Here are a fairly typical pair of average Airworkees, just before hitting T3* for a mair than a few swallies.
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Colonel Manic (seated) has prepared himself for the return trip from the Mess. The wheelchair has been charged, primed and is ready for the affski.

Survival training was vital on return journeys from T3 or many of the Satellite Bars that sprung up on Elephant Park. There was a particulary nasty form of pebble dashing on the walls of the buildings. Plenty of unfortunates stolled into work sporting various degrees of facial gravel rash caused by colliding with the walls at night, it was also not unknown for this to occur in broad daylight as well.

Now if we could make a program about our antics, it would bring some light hearted entertainment to the small screen, well times are desperate.

Ah good times when we thought we didnea have a life, but in reality we did.

*The Sgts' Mess Bar was called T3 for the simple reason, at first it resembled Heathrow, Terminal 3. A barren sheethole devoid of any humanizing qualities. Subsequently, after the first burning doon that issue was redressed, yet the name stuck.

Rabbie, ma body moved on tae Strike Command (54: Fleet of Foot , ) where; upon arrival, I was immediately ordered tae buy TWO new uniforms ... bunch o' woofters indeed ... but my heart remained among the Victors and Vulcans.